Lost in the Light Ch. 07

"Rub this over thine skin," Grelwuf said and pushed the wooden bowl towards her. The clear, oily liquid sloshed around inside it. Riyarra did as instructed and dipped her fingers in the oil and spread it up and down her arms. With her arms coated, she brought one to her nose and sniffed it. It had a mild herbal fragrance that was neither repulsive nor attractive. "All overrr." Grelwuf added, but didn't look up from his task. He seemed almost sullen in his work.

"What is it?" Riyarra asked as she coated her face and neck.

"Tis a deterrent." Grelwuf said and looked up as she finished oiling up one long ear. Her face was titled down slightly and she gave him a curious look as her fingers continued to lightly massage the oil into her skin. "It tastes awful..." Grelwuf shuddered violently to accentuate his point. Riyarra couldn't help but taste the very tip of one of her oiled fingers. It had no flavor worth merit, but what it did have was a sudden rush of hotness that made her mouth feel like it was on fire.

"Hot sauce?" She asked incredulously, as her ears and cheeks started to turn a bright red from the flush of heat in her mouth. "An aphrodisiac was unnecessary. Unless you really are going to eat me..." She giggled coyly as the intoxicating effect of the spice put her in a playful mood.

"Eh?" Grelwuf stopped in his grinding, taken aback. His eyes were locked on her as she deliberately licked her tongue up one side of her finger in one long sensually fluid motion. It disappeared back between her lips where she sat and swayed pleasurably as the heat rushed in and filled her body. Her chest became as flushed as her cheeks and ears, and her hands moved down from her oiled face to her neck and rubbed the oil around her shoulders and the flushed parts of her upper chest. Dipping her cupped hands into the bowl once more to really load them up, she put on a show as she massaged her breasts. Each hand slowly slid the oil all around her ample breasts and ribs. She squeezed them together and moaned delightfully.

Grelwuf snorted and refocused on his work as he refilled her bowl with more of the stalk oil. But Riyarra seemed to take pleasure in teasing him as she spread the oil up one long, poised leg as it reached towards the ceiling. Her hands ran up her slender, toned thighs, to a muscular calf, and then to her arched foot. Cupping her hand into the bowl, she pooled some into her palm and carried it over to her other thigh as she stretched her leg out along the floor. Letting it spill from the back of her hand, she drew a bead along the length of her leg in a straight deliberation motion. In a display of incredible flexibility she leaned forward and started with her foot first, pressing her whole body against her leg, and her face to her shin. Slowly and delicately she worked the slick substance in between her toes as she shot Grelwuf sideways glances, sometimes her fingers worked on their own, without her supervision, as the traversed back up her leg, spreading the oil as they went.

The Furrel was not unaffected by her show, he sat up straight on his knees as he finished the last of his stalks. His gaze cycled from the plant as he pulverized it in the mortar, to the blond Eltharian beauty as she coated her naked skin in the plant's juice. It was so slight a change in his posture she did not always catch him looking at her, but when their eyes did meet she melted from his gaze. Whether it was the fever, the curse, or the Eltharian's unique reaction to spicy plants, Riyarra was making a point to show how aroused she was.

"Thine back." He pointed. "I cannot touch the stuff."

Riyarra grinned and made another show of protruding her chest forward as she arched her back, giving her hands room to work the slick stuff into her back muscles and shoulder blades. When she finished she leaned forward to find the Furrel crouched nearby. There was a sense of nervousness she detected as he seemed unsure of how to proceed. Riyarra wouldn't let him back out now and quickly took matters into her own hands quite literally by caressing his thighs. They ventured past his loincloth, untying the sides and tossed it away revealing how affective her show had been on him. His manhood stood up firm and proud. Gentle fingers touched his attentive flesh and took a hold of it. As she started to stroke him slightly, his breath came accompanied by short deep grunts. She marveled at the difference a Furrel's member had from most others she had seen. Very similar, yet more animalistic. Despite the differences it was just as responsive to her knowing touch, by the thrown back head and closed eyes of her captive audience.

Grelwuf's breath had started to come more forcefully. All the muscles of his body tensed and flexed as he leaned in to breathe against her neck. His maw was open and the drool from his fangs dripped against her skin. She fought the panic reflex caused from their last close encounter, and realized aggressive acts were sometimes erotic amongst Furrels. Yet with this ointment on her body, he was limited in his expressiveness – for her own safety.

Not wanting to draw it out any further, she turned around and presented her posterior to him with a seductive wiggle. The fierce look in those eyes told of the desire he was restraining. Grelwuf reached to the floor and picked up a scrap of leather, long enough to be a strap.

"Bind thy hands." He growled huskily and tossed it beside her. Riyarra smirked devilishly and did as commanded, wrapping the strap around her wrists until she couldn't free herself easily. Her host moved closer and dragged his claws down her backside causing a mixed sensation of pleasure and pain.

"Bite it." He growled. Riyarra pulled her wrists apart far enough to make the strap taut between them. She turned away, placing it between her teeth and bit down. In this submissive position she couldn't see what he was doing – and that excited her all the more. Something hot and wet tickled the sensitive folds of blonde flesh between her thighs – her beastly lover was breathing in the smell of her sex. Frustration was starting to overrule her playfulness as the overly prolonged foreplay was tempting the curse. She moaned in a pleading way, begging him for her release. But her patience was finally rewarded when she felt something warm, hard, and thick press against her wet womanhood from behind. Her body relaxed in wanton anticipation as she let her teeth grind out her tension on the leather.

Slowly he entered her. His hard man meat parted her pussy lips gently at first, only to recede and reenter deeper. But the more he pressed in, the larger she realized he truly was. He was bigger than any other male she'd had before, and as the peak of his girth parted her it was almost too much to bear and grew painful. Riyarra bit down hard on the leather.

Grelwuf seemed to settle into an undulating trance as his hips worked to slowly slide in and out of his petite lover. Each slow, forceful push caused her body to tense up as she grew accustomed to his girth. It wasn't until many tense moments later that she finally adjusted to their difference and let out a soft moan of pleasure. Strong arms grabbed her shoulders, and hot breath came to beat down against her neck. But something repelled them, despite her moaning protest at being denied a little affection, and he recoiled slowly.

Riyarra's body begged for a more intense lovemaking session, she tried to squirm under him in an alluring way, but the immense size of his thick member quickly quieted the disobedient lusts within her and she submitted to his control. Begrudgingly her desires slowed to match his pace and to enjoy the slow, savory release from her built up sexual tension...

*****

One of Lysia's eyes had swollen shut from the beatings. So it was shielded from the spunk that spewed from his throbbing member into her face. The spear wielding Zecarin spasmed as his release shot all over her face and chest. The ecstasy overruled his cruel nature and she felt his tight grip on her hair reflexively release.

"Lick it clean." He growled and grabbed her throat with one hand. Obediently she cleaned his messy cock with her tongue. Lysia's consciousness had retreated deep inside; she was just a shell responding to brutally enforced commands now.

"I want to hear her scream more," the other one growled from behind her as his man meat pistoned in and out of her battered pussy.

"I think I know of an idea. Let her ride your cock." The spearman chuckled. His companion pulled out of her, letting a miserable Lysia collapse to the ground and sob. The sadistic Zecarin lay down beside her, as his partner put the spear tip under her chin.

"If you don't want that pretty neck of yours sliced open, you'll mount that nice piece of Zek cock. It's more than you deserve pale bitch." Obediently, the terrified girl crawled over onto her captor and positioned the erect member between her thighs. The snarling dark-skinned elf under her grabbed her hips and thrust up into her wet pussy. His mouth attacked one of her nipples, biting it painfully until she cried out, as he pounded her sex with his cock.

It distracted her from the rough hands spreading her ass cheeks. It wasn't until the semi-erect man meat pressed against her asshole that she squirmed away in protest. A hard fist struck the back of her head to discipline her for resisting. Lysia slumped forward from the dazing blow, and was in no shape to resist further as her ass was penetrated by the Zecarin's stiffening cock. Together they thrusted in and out of her body, savoring in the half-conscious whimpers of pain that escaped her bloodied lips.

"Scream for me..." The soldier under her growled, as he pressed a knife to her throat. There was maliciousness in his eyes that she was beyond recognizing – something terrible she had not seen before. The sharp edge bit in slightly from their rough treatment of her, causing a splatter of blood to hit his face. He was rewarded by a high pitched scream – but it did not come from her.

His companion fell backwards clutching his groin as blood spurted from his cockless flesh. A second arrow pierced his neck and silenced his scream.

"FUCK!" The soldier shouted in alarm and threw Lysia off of him. Searing hot pain struck his cock before he could stand and he reached down to find it not attached. He didn't have long to consider it as something thudded into his forehead and oblivion claimed him.

The Eltharian girl collapsed in a sharp wail of agony and grief. A trembling hand reached up to her neck to find it just barely nicked. Her rescuer appeared from the dense bush nearby with bow in hand and another arrow armed as his eyes darted to every tree, rock, sapling and bush. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred but the convulsing girl on the ground.

"My lady?" he whispered. Her naked body trembled from emotion and pain as her consciousness struggled to come out. One vacant eye looked up at him. Their gazes met, and he calmly lowered his weapon and pulled the bandana that kept his long black hair from his face over his eyes. Blindfolded, he reclaimed his tattered cloak from the bushes he came from and approached her with it. "Here, please take this." He said soothingly. Lysia reached up and took hold timidly. She couldn't believe he simply happened to stumble on her during her moment of greatest need.

Firm yet gentle arms lifted her up when she paused after placing one hand on the garment. He placed it over her shoulders and fastened the catch around her neck. All this he did blindfolded. The heavy fabric fell around her, completely covering her. He pulled the hood up around her head, and only then, when it shadowed most of her face, did he replace his bandana and look at her.

One weary eye regarded him, as the other was swollen shut, and she met his serious brown eyes for only a moment. She fell forward and let her head crash into his chest. Trembling arms wrapped around his hard leather armor.

"You are real," She finally said. He placed hands on each side of her face and she felt a warm tingle from his touch. Slowly the pain in her face went away. It flowed into her neck and chest, chasing away the pain bit by bit. It felt good, and she sighed contently as he healed her with his magic.

"My name is Valel, of the Leafen Children." Valel said and moved his hands to her shoulders to gently push her away. "Our camp is not far, I will take you there."

"Leaf knights," Lysia said and blinked her healed eye open. "My name is Lysia... of the Yvarna." She pulled back the hood enough to show the mark on her neck. She watched his thin handsome face for a reaction. He didn't even blink.

"You are still Eltharian." Valel scowled. "Come, my lady, it's this way." Her cheeks couldn't help but blush ever so slightly. It had been a long time since she was in the company of a gentleman. Lysia followed as he led her away by the hand.

"I have a companion out here, but we were separated." Lysia said.

"I should see you to safety first," Valel replied after a moment of consideration. "I cannot guarantee your safety while searching for them. I am afraid your friend is on their own until we can send back out to look for them." Lysia nodded and fell into step with his cautious march through the wild.

They walked for the rest of the day, and through the night. Lysia wanted to ask to stop and rest many times, but felt the urgency of his pace was without question. By noon the next day, Valel finally stopped and let loose an odd sounding animal call, it wasn't one she had heard naturally. Not that she was an expert at animals at all, but hearing it come from him made it seem all the more unnatural.

An hour later they arrived at a friendly sight; Eltharian tree tents erected up in the first tier of branches. She had heard of them, and her patrol's own tents were similar in design, but none of the Yvarna were skilled at camping in branches – it took nimble limbs to operate at that elevation.

"Can you climb?" Valel asked and let loose a low whistle under one of the mottled brown and green tents. A knotted rope fell down and he handed it to Lysia. She wasn't the athletic type, but the more she lived out here the more she felt such tasks become less daunting. Taking the rope in hand, she climbed the knots. Her cloak did its job keeping her modesty as her hands and knees wrapped around the rope. The person at the other end was also pulling her up bit by bit. Before long strong arms took hold of hers and helped her over the edge and into the dark shade of the tent. She was surprised to find an Eltharian woman had hauled her inside.

"Greetings," she said quietly. "We can speak softly here, but outside maintain silence." The soldier instructed as she pulled up the rest of the rope and closed the fabric flap to the tent. "I am Iala," she said and kissed both of Lysia's cheeks in the greeting of noble women from Elthair. Iala had auburn hair, tightly braided into a bun at the back of her head, and dark brown eyes. She had the slim cheeks, and high cheekbones of a noble lady, yet her expression was friendly. It made the girl blush to the tips of her long ears.

"You do me too much grace, my lady," Lysia protested. "I...I am marked." She was hesitant to say. She pulled back her cowl and exposed the side of her neck branded by the Yvarna.

"So I see," Iala said sternly and her warm gaze turned to a scowl. "You are not the first exile we have pulled back into the light." She commented. "The Yvarna was meant to teach, not to abandon. I would know your crime before I embarrass myself again." The lady sat back and crossed her toned arms over a form-fitting brown leather vest. Twin tattoos spiraled up from her wrists to her shoulders. Lysia had never seen a tattoo that was not the Yvarna. She looked to the side to keep from staring as her mind tried to find the words. Beside Iala, within quick reach, lay a slender sword and the remains of her leather armor that the vest was part of.

"I cannot lie to you, my lady." Lysia said calmly. "That is my punishment."

"Well, that's no fun." Iala smiled mischievously, to ease the tension, "but do continue." She motioned.

"I lied to protect my lover," Lysia continued with a profound sigh. She had repeated this story too many times lately. It was painful to relive each time, but such was her curse. "I was a bookkeeper for the Academy. I discovered an... an error in my lover's heritage that would cost his family their noble standing. I tried to bury it to protect him, but that drew more attention to it. When it was brought to light, he claimed that I had fabricated it out of revenge for being spurned. I was convicted on his word alone, for he was a Majister's son."

"Tsk," Iala scoffed. "Have things really become so petty in the capital?" Her sentiment confused Lysia who looked up to meet her gaze for the first time. Iala's face was stern but compassionate still – like a scolding mother. "We have been gone too long it seems. The voice of reason needs to be returned to our kin." Iala took a deep centering breath and uncrossed her arms, to place her hands on her hips. Something about this woman's presence scared Lysia – she imagined Iala could storm Elthair by herself and force the King to see things her way... while he sniveled at her feet. "You will be in Valel's care while here. We have many rules here, and one of them is: You find it, you care for it. He and I share this space as we exchange watches. Once he finishes his report to the captain, I'll be taking his place. Make yourself comfortable. I will go and get ready then." Iala crawled past Lysia and opened the flap. The girl was amazed at the coordination and grace at which this woman moved. She made no sound, and the taut fabric that made up the tent's floor didn't flex with her movement. Lysia was left alone for only a moment before Iala's head poked back in. "In the corner is a small bucket with clean water and a cloth, please use that to refresh yourself. It will remove unwanted odors, which is important here. We must mask our presence" And with that the lady disappeared again.

Suddenly Lysia became very self conscious of her appearance. She must have looked so pathetic and beggarly. She hoped she hadn't offended the woman, but what was done was done. The cloak was shed, and she approached the bucket cautiously. Unsure of her footing in the tree tent, she found she could cause items inside to shake and wobble if she didn't get her balance right. The bucket wasn't that far away in the small space. She took the clean white cloth and soaked it, it was cool to the touch and smelled crisp and clear. As she wiped her arms, the effect was amazing as all the dirt, grime, and dried blood wiped away easily. The cloth rinsed clean in the bucket and each wipe was as clean as the last. Her face seemed to hold the worst of it. It felt so good on her skin, and seemed to revitalize her. Perhaps it was just the relief of being safely among her own people again, but she suspected there was some magic involved in this. Finally she washed away the Zecarin soil lingering between her legs. It brought a twinge of anger, and all the old hatreds she had been raised with suddenly came to the surface. For Riyarra's sake, and her own survival, she had tucked them away when they had been caught. But for now she allowed herself a moment of hate. Her imagination wandered to what it would be like to serve in a unit such as this, to work at hunting Zecarins, the real enemy, instead of rogue Eltharians. She would willingly suffer more unpleasantries if it meant slitting a few dark skinned necks in repayment.

Her cloth finished the back of her neck and returned to the bucket. A soft cough behind her startled her, and she looked behind her to see Valel's back to her. Lost to her thoughts, she hadn't noticed his entrance. Yet considering the stealth with which Iala left, she wouldn't have unless she was watching the front. Valel turned his head, and she could see the bandana that blindfolded him. He was intent on protecting her modesty while in his care. It was an endearing sentiment, and she smiled.