The Apostate

Her breasts were small, much smaller than Cyra's, but were like blossoms atop a field of white flesh, capped with pale pink areola and nipples that seemed perpetually hard. Iliara's golden hair fell like a waterfall down her back and shoulders.

"Did you just wake up?" Cyra asked the elf with a throaty purr.

"You wore me out," Iliara said. Her voice was musical, like wind chimes. She smirked her pink lips at the red-skinned woman. "My cunny still aches from your hand."

"You're welcome," Cyra said. Her clothing was in a heap by her bedroll. It hadn't been disturbed since she'd shed it in a fit of passion. The walk had dried her flesh from the river water, and she brushed off the debris that had gathered on her feet during the walk before pulling on her tight gray linen pants, finely tailored, perfectly white shirt that she kept unbuttoned quite low so that the black leather underbust corset would push her bosoms up, amplifying her cleavage, and the tall black boots she wore over her pants.

She realized that Iliara had not grown any more clothed during her re-dressing, and she folded her arms over the leather corset, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow. "I'm not taking this off to fuck you again," she said. "It's too much work."

"Am I not worth it?" the elf said, smirking as she sauntered toward Cyra.

"You're worth all the effort in the world," Cyra said, putting her larger hands on the elf's slender shoulders. She kissed the elf, her lips hot against the elf's. "But your cunt is sore, and we have more hiking to do. We will be in Neverwinter this very night, and I'm dying to see our friends again."

"Then I shall stride alongside you bare-chested, with my fingers smelling of nectar that I know your keen dragon senses can smell," the elf said, smirking.

"Tease," the dragonspawn said. She walked over to where the elf's clothing was and threw her leather jerkin at her. "Put it on and let's go."

Iliara pouted, but that pout quickly broke into a smirk when Cyra added a promise she couldn't ignore.

"When we get to Neverwinter, I'll see to it that you are properly sexed," she said, sauntering toward the elf and running her fingers across the elf's small, athletic breasts. "By my mouth...by Lura...by Hammer..."

Iliara shuddered at the thought. Pure delight coursed through her mind as vivid images filled her thoughts. "Let us be off, my love."

"I thought so," Cyra said, laughing as Drax swooped down from the trees overhead. He roared, his throat emitting a youthful howl as a wolf cub learns to howl, and nuzzled his horned, spined head against Cyra.

*****

It was a strange thing to Hammer and Lura. They'd spent a handful of years in Neverwinter after the eruption of Mount Hotenow. They'd helped rebuild it, defend it, and even furthered the church of Sune in Neverwinter. Drow were not uncommon in this city, and were widely, if not begrudgingly, accepted by Neverwintans. Adventurers flooded the city for the pursuit of fame, fortune, and a general desire to help. It was a close knit community.

Yet these two had made few close friends since they had come here. It was not like Everlund or Silverymoon, where they were quickly accepted and bonded easily to the people around them. So many close friends in their past, yet none in their present. When the man and the drow woman left Neverwinter's gates to journey to Menzoberranzan and the Underdark, they said no fond farewells, save to a few of the city guards, a handful of harlots, and a great many street urchins.

Truly, it had been a life of much work, and little pleasure, save for that which they enjoyed with each other.

Hammer had his hand on the mask hanging from his belt, fingers running over the perfectly smooth, featureless surface, and his other hand on Lura's lower back as they walked. She looped her arm around his elbow, and they walked arm in arm out of the gate and into Neverwinter Wood.

"Do you remember when we first met?" the drow asked her barbarian.

"I do, as if it were yesterday," he said, smiling. "You had trouble all about you, but an undeniable passion and influence in your voice."

"Is that why you were so smitten with me right away?" Lura asked playfully.

Hammer laughed. He looked down at her and saw the flecks of gold glittering on her lips. "You know, your lips haven't stopped glittering gold since that day."

"I know," she said, smirking. "The first time I saw you, I had a sense of familiarity and trust. It was like coming home to an old friend."

"More than that," he jibed, and she squeezed his arm.

"If I had not left my homeland those years ago, I would have never met you," she said, almost sadly. "And now I bring you back to my homeland, where we both may meet our ends."

"I would rather end next to you than away from you."

She smiled and kissed his thick arm. His drow armor left his arm bare for her lips. "I regret what we may both be forced to do in the near future," she said.

"We sacrifice for your sister. Whatever we must do will not be in vain," he said, but Lura kept her thoughts hidden from him this time. She knew the decadence and depravity of the drow, and the thought of one of her sisters, or her mother, or any other drow fucking him set her guts to churning.

"Do you know I love you," Lura said softly.

Hammer stopped in his tracks and turned her to face him. "And I love you. What troubles you, Lura?"

She willed the mist in her eyes away and looked up at him with a smile. She found solace in his steel blue eyes, his smile, the soft stubble of his beard, and the wild mane of brown hair cascading down at her. She put her hands on his face. "Nothing. I have you."

He smiled at her, and resumed walking, holding her arm tight in his own. "Know that whatever I am forced into, you will be the first in my heart, and I shall hate every moment of it, unless it involves slaying the wicked."

"I know," she said softly, smiling as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

The night was thick about them, and they should have been more wary. They knew better than most the dangers that lurked outside the city walls. But they were lost in each other's warmth, in their love for each other, and the soft words they spoke to warm their hearts.

The two lovers made camp toward the end of the night, as the sun began to lighten in the east. Hammer knew they would not get much sleep, but they unrolled their bedrolls and curled up with each other regardless. Despite their great passion for each other, they had no mind for sex. The next day hung over their head like a black, lightless cloud.

*****

Solafein had let the hunting party out of Gauntlgrym at the dawn of night. There were only three others: Amalzar, a slight man with a knack for invisibility, Szinvyr, a mage of middling power, but useful in a scrape, and Lirafey, the required priestess. She was with him now, whilst his other two companions scouted on their own. It was fortuitous for him that Lirafey had come along, for she had taken him as a lover many weeks ago, and they had more than a little physical chemistry, if nothing else.

It was the middle of their patrol, and Solafein hadn't had any reason to draw his long swords the whole night. Lirafey was similarly bored, her snake-headed whip writhing in agitation at her hip, her mace heavy on her belt, and her shield slumping her slender shoulders. Solafein had caught himself on several occasions eyeing the swell of her breasts through her chainmail, which was doing little to flatter her impressive endowments. She came from House Baensek, a House renowned in more lascivious circles for the endowments of its children. Her posterior was often in front of him as well, something that was certainly flattered by the leather leggings she wore. Her high-heeled boots—terrible for rough terrain—further amplified her posterior's dimensions, much to his delight.

"Fine, then," Lirafey said, sloughing off her shield and removing her belt—mace and whip along with it.

"Fine, then, what?" Solafein asked with an arched brow. He wasn't as big and muscular as her brothers, but he was well-built for a male. Tall and broad of shoulder, lean and skilled with the two swords as many of the drow males were. Moreover, he was possessed of a singular wit, dry, yet often lewd with certain companions of his.

"You've been eye-fucking me all night," she said, turning to face him with arms over her chest.

"As I am wont to do," he said, lifting his arms as if that was of no moment to either of them.

"Well, get on with it. Remove your garments."

"We're on patrol, Lira," he said, using a familiar name that, as he understood it, only he was allowed to use. "Besides, this is hardly the time and place—"

"Oh be silent," Lirafey said, putting her hands on his shoulders and kissing him, then biting his lower lip almost hard enough to break the skin. "I've been waiting for this all night. Those bumbling fools you brought with us have been following and hoping for a show all night until about thirty minutes ago. Now that we're alone, I want your seed in me."

"Yes, Mistress," Solafein said with a sly smirk. He stripped his leather hauberk off his chest and pealed his pants off, revealing a long, flaccid cock.

"Always the shower, never the grower," Lirafey said. Her voice conveyed disdain, but her eyes and the way she licked her lips was blatant hunger.

"I've never needed to grow larger than this," he said, gripping his member in his hand as the drow priestess made a long, slow show of removing her chainmail, going so far as to turn away from him and reveal on the sides of her breasts as the chainmail fell with an enchanted whisper to the ground. He watched, stroking himself, as she slid her pants down, her perfectly round, taut ass, and the delicious cleft that hid the dark star he had come to adore so much.

"So true," she muttered under her breath as she turned sidelong to him, one hand extended in his direction. He admired her profile for a moment: the generous swell of her breasts capped by up-turned ebony nipples, thicker than he might have guessed, and much larger than her chainmail implied; the swell of her ass, so perfectly balancing her breasts; her long, sinuous legs, certainly not made for climbing or running, but fucking...most definitely.

Her shimmering veil of gold-tinted white hair covered most of her back, the ornate braids forming a spider's web over her scalp while the rest of her hair fell in a smooth taper to the small of her back.

"Come," she said in a low, sultry voice, one in no way laced with the command most females used with their male partners. Solafein had no illusion about his standing in her eyes, but Lirafey treated him as close to an equal as he'd ever known. In three steps he was against her, cock in her hand, her ass in his hand, and their lips pressed fervently into each other.

She squeezed his shaft, slowly stroking it as it filled with blood. It did expand somewhat, growing thicker if not greatly longer, and filled her hand with a pleasant firmness and warmth that had grown familiar and comforting to her. Not to mention arousing. Lira bit a his lip again, gnawing on his flesh as his hand dug into the cleft of her ass, fingers slipping down toward her shadowed rosebud. She arched her back into his hand, lifting her hips up for him. His agile fingers massaged at that dark hole, plying at the soft tissue to relax and welcome him home again. She let out a moan, teeth clenched as his fingertip dipped inside her asshole.

Solafein brought his hand up to her heavy breast, lifting it and massaging it with hands that could soothe knots out of a minotaur's ass. She whimpered against his neck as she pushed her entire body against his, still holding his cock and stroking it thoroughly, slowly. He was hard as adamantite in short order, but the priestess would not debase herself for a male. She knelt only to her Matron Mother, to Matron Baenre, and to Lolth herself.

His only lamentation was that this woman's skilled mouth would never grace his cock in such a way, but that was quickly erased from thought when she lifted one leg up over his hip, opening her pouting vulva to his cock. His finger slipped from her anus from the shift in position, but he made up for that loss by grasping her hips and lifting her up, pressing her back into the rough bark of a tree. She grunted as the wood formed abrasions on her back, but wrapped her legs instinctively around his hips as he drove his manhood into her weeping cunny.

"Fuck me, male," she groaned, her teeth biting down hard on his shoulder. He grunted in pain, but the decadent drow used the pain to fuel his lust. He drove into her harder, grinding the soft flesh of her back into the tree's bark. He spread her ass, reaching as far as he could with his fingers until he could feel her anus again, the middle fingers of both hands pulling the anal ring apart as he jammed his cock so deep into the priestess that he could feel her cervix against the head of his cock.

"Yes...yes!" she groaned in his hear, her fingernails clawing deep furrows into his muscular back. He arched his back, head falling away from the woman as he groaned in blissful pain. Again, it drove him to greater heights of passion. Her breasts mashed against his chest, the large orbs creating a lovely cushion for him to ram into over and over again.

Lirafey shuddered in pleasure, her cunny creaming pearly nectar all over his shaft as her loins spasmed, milking at his cock. She slapped at his back, biting down like a patient under the knife chomping down on a bit. He began to bleed from where she bit him, as well as a few places on his back where she'd scratched him. But the fuel to their lust had not been quashed.

She pushed him away, dismounted his cock, then turned to face the tree, arms wrapping around it as her large breasts crushed against the unrelenting wood. He knew the cue, and spat on his cock for good measure. Stroking her cream all over his shaft, he lined up with her asshole and slide the slickened meat into her anus.

Oh, and how she howled! He laughed with passionate mirth, hilting himself into the vice-like grip of her anus in one long, slow thrust. The pain associated with it quickly turned to pleasure for the priestess, who had suffered worse and more during her years in Arach-tinilith in Menzoberranzan, the school for priestesses of Lolth. This was as foreplay compared to the tribulations she and her fellow initiates endured with the mistresses of the academy.

And she loved every inch of it, every agonizing thrust, every blissful sensation of fullness Solafein's cock gave her.

Alas, he did not last long. His cock filled her rectum with his seed, and she was momentarily sad that her womb would not taste that particular load. Reason washed away that thought abruptly, and she basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Several moments passed, with Solafein leaning against Lirafey, embedded in her ass, both of them leaking bliss. It wasn't until they both opened their eyes to appreciate each other that they noticed the campfire not far away.

And by that point, the sun was starting to rise.

*****

Hammer awoke around midday, their small fire a pitiful pile of smoldering embers. It was distinctly cooler, a sign of the seasons growing closer to winter. He put his hand over Lura's waist, pulling her tight against him. She made a sleepy noise in her throat and rolled over, nuzzling into his broad chest. He wished they had been able to sleep naked, as was their norm, but it was imprudent to do so in the wilds.

"Lura," he said softly, kissing her forehead. She nuzzled harder in defiance. "Lura, awaken. We should begin our march again soon."

"Make love to me first," she purred into his chest, her hand reaching down between his thighs to grip his manhood. It was flaccid and small, but the prospect of the thing growing into the pillar of virility she knew it to be set her to squeezing and massaging the soft flesh.

"Orcs could fall upon us at any moment," Hammer cautioned her, putting his hand to the back of her head.

"Then we will slay them with our blood aflame with lust, and you can properly fuck me afterward," she said with a voice suddenly thick with life. She slithered down along his body, pulling his cock from his trousers and putting her lips to work sucking blood into the flaccid meat. Hammer lost the will to argue with her and resigned himself to a pleasure-filled groan as he felt her suck all of his limp cock into her mouth.

Blood surged into the organ, and it grew exponentially with every stroke of her tongue. The suction from her mouth stretched the flesh of his cock. He put his hand to the back of her head, watching her gold-flecked lips glisten with her own saliva as his cock slid in and out of her mouth, thickening and lengthening to potent dimensions. Soon enough, it became a challenge for her to take much of it into her mouth, skilled as she may be. Her fingers slid through the trimmed hair around his cock, then cradled the sack underneath, massaging it as she set her attention to the broad head of his cock.

"Lura," he groaned, and she withdrew her mouth from his member. "I would taste you."

"No," she said, climbing up his body and pushing him onto his back. Somehow she had surreptitiously pushed her thin leggings off her body, though she still wore her red robe. It was soft and velvety right now, not the way she would wear it as a proper drow priestess. She pulled it apart to reveal her lush breasts and upturned nipples. Straddling her barbarian, she wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked it a few more times before she slid the fattened head against her labia.

She smeared her own saliva over her already moist pussy, then positioned his cock right at her entrance. One hand cradling her own breast, one hand on his cock, she slowly slid herself down his engorged member, feeling the hardness and thickness stretching her supple loins wide. After she overcame the sensation and mild discomfort of his cock spreading her, she got to enjoy the slow, beautiful agony of his cock utterly filling her canal. She could feel every thick vein, the ridge of his glans, all grinding and sliding against the inner walls of her pussy. Lura couldn't contain a loud moan of pleasure as she sat fully on his cock, filled to bursting with the barbarian's big cock.

"Hammer...Hammer..." she breathed urgently, eyes screwed shut as he struggled to come to terms with the absolute bliss her body brought him. He put his hands on her hips just as she began to writhe atop him, at first sliding up and down his length slowly, shortly, then undulating side to side, before she began a spiraling dance with her hips. She stroked his cock so perfectly with her cunny that he simply laid back, eyes shut, mouth agape and tried with all his might not to lose control of his loins.

Her hand found her clitoris and began peppering it with circular strokes with the tips of her fingers. It wouldn't take much, not now. Her pussy was creaming his cock with copious amounts of her bliss. And Hammer could smell it: this was not the pure, clean scent of Lura after a long sensual bath. This was the scent of freshly awoken Lura, after a long day of hiking and sleeping. It was potent to his nostrils, but far from unpleasant. The drow had a knack for pleasantness, and that translated to all facets of her body.

"Lura!" he said when she roughly slammed down on his cock. The movement took him by surprise. He watched her jill herself with furious movements, her breasts wobbling and bouncing as she rode his cock like a master equestrian. She bounced and spiraled, twisted and rocked to and fro. Her body was a symphony of muscle and passion. He couldn't contain himself.