A Paladin's Journey Ch. 11

"Let's take this to bed," the Gorn'elda suggested, his voice thick with arousal. He turned toward the bed, where the temporarily-forgotten half-Giant was still sitting on the floor. She was watching the scene with interest, one hand between her spread thighs, the fingers moving in small circles.

"Shall I stay, or leave, Master Berten?" The sexy creature asked, her hand continuing its task.

Berten shrugged. "Do as you please, my dear. Stay if you wish. I am sure the girls won't mind if you watch, or even join us."

Kyra and Lissitha both nodded at Tessamere encouragingly, and she blushed cutely.

"Or, you may leave and start work. I would be delighted to have you with us," Berten added as he stepped between Tessa's thighs and gave her another long kiss.

The half-Giant's face lit up. "Thank you, Master Berten! You will not be disappointed!" To show her appreciation, she bent her head slightly and took his throbbing erection between her lips. Kyra's eyebrows rose as she took him all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion. Berten's cock created a bulge in her throat, but it appeared to bother her not.

Berten groaned lustily and tangled his fists in her hair. "Oh, you are good! I think I'll get you to teach some of the other girls, Tessa!"

Tessamere moaned her assent, which brought another groan from Berten. "Alright!" he said finally, withdrawing his cock from the depths of the busty woman's throat. He moved to a low table which was covered by a plush fur carpet. "Who's first?"

Kyra shared a look with Lissitha, and the andrakin blushed shyly and stepped forward. She lay on the table gracefully, which put her at the ideal height for Berten to fuck her while standing. Her creamy skin glowed in the lamplight, contrasting with the strips of scales that adorned her here and there.

Kyra moved up to Lissitha's side and knelt by the table. She kneaded Lissitha's breast and watched as Berten lined himself up with her slit.

"Oh, I am really going to like this, my dear," he said softly as he pushed his cockhead up and down through her slick lips. "I've never had an andrakin."

Lissitha's hips were lifting, trying to obtain some penetration, but Berten teased her mercilessly. Kyra played, too, and took a stiff nipple between her lips, lashing it with her tongue and making her lover cry out in pleasurable agony.

Tessamere appeared on the opposite side of the table and knelt. She tentatively placed a large hand on Lissitha's belly and began to caress, sliding up to cup a breast before moving back down again. Lissitha's hand shot up and seized one of Tessamere's massive tits. With a tug, she encouraged the half-Giant to lean forward and present it for Lissitha's lips and tongue.

The andrakin devoured the huge bronze orb, focusing on the stiff nipple at its peak. Kyra's pussy was now completely flooded as she watched the display, and she made good use of Tessa's other breast, which was resting on Lissi's chest. It was heavy, but soft, silky and pliant, and Kyra explored it thoroughly with both her hands and lips.

There was a muffled cry from Lissi as Berten finally impaled her, splitting her smooth cunt around his meaty shaft. He was big, but Lissi was used to bigger. Berten may have been a good ten inches long and wrist-thick, but Marcos was more than a foot in length and thick as a forearm.

Berten gasped as Lissi's cunt swallowed him up. "She's so fucking tight!" He moaned as he sank all the way in. He held there for a moment, enjoying the sensation, and then he began to seriously fuck. Lissi wailed into Tessa's fat breast as Berten began to hammer his cock into her. His strong hands hooked under her thighs for leverage and he gave her everything he had, his brow drawn down, his strong jaw set.

Kyra's lips met Tessa's hungrily, and they kissed with abandon. The half-Giant's lips were plump and lush, perfect for kissing. "It's a shame you are staying here," Kyra whispered. "You would make a wonderful traveling companion."

Tessa giggled. "Maybe you can convince me." Their eyes met, and Kyra could tell the woman was only half-joking.

"Hey!" Berten said firmly, never slowing his pounding of Lissi's cunt. "Don't try and steal my girls!"

"I would never!" Kyra replied, playfully shocked. She reached beneath Lissi's thigh and cupped Berten's swinging sack. He groaned happily when she gently squeezed them, and when she pressed a finger against the skin behind his balls, he cried out wildly and began to come.

In a flash, he whipped his cock free of Lissi and Kyra seized it in her hand, stroking it as it fired long, thick ropes of come all over the three women. A strand hit Kyra's lips and she found that it tasted pleasant, almost fruity.

Kyra kept stroking and the come kept flying, until finally, after more than a dozen ropes had been delivered onto Lissi's tits and belly, Kyra's arm and face, and Tessa's arm, tits and face, the barrage ended with a few more trickles leaking from the slit at the tip of his cock.

Kyra rubbed those last few drops around the smooth skin with her thumb, bringing soft, satisfied noises from the well-hung Gorn'elda. "Impressive," she told him. "I've seen Giants that can't come like that."

Berten grinned smugly. "It's a gift, my dear." He stretched lazily and yawned. Kyra was half expecting him to announce that he was retiring for the night, but all he said was: "Who's next?"

Kyra licked her lips and helped a woozy Lissi from the table before taking her place, spreading her legs wide for the still-erect truncheon between Berten's thighs.

It looked to be the start of a long night, but if they had to wait till morning for a ship, they may as well have fun doing it.

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11.4: Purity of Blood

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RODRIC EAMES -- LORD COMMANDER OF THE HERALDS OF DAWN, MARALON, EKISTAIR

Eames sat at the centre of the arced table in the Grand Hall of Maralon. The table occupied a raised dais and was the centre point of power in this city. The Council of Maralon meted justice and made decisions in this enormous, high-ceilinged hall with its fluted columns and stained-glass windows high enough for a Giant to stand in.

Of course, the Council of Maralon looked much different now. Unfortunate accidents had befallen the lords and ladies that previously occupied these chairs. Unfortunate, indeed. Now, Eames and four hand-picked Heralds -- three men and one woman, all of whom Eames trusted as much as he dared -- comprised the Council, and Maralon was firmly in their grasp.

In reality, it was in Eames' grasp alone, but the illusion of democracy had to be maintained, hence keeping the Council rather than disbanding the structure and forging a new, totalitarian system. Even so, there had been rebellion in the streets. The riots, however, had been promptly squashed, and violently so.

Things had been peaceful, since. Well, at least in Maralon. Reports of happenings elsewhere in the world were disturbing, but nothing the Heralds could not handle. Eames suspected he may have earned a place in the High Council of the Dawn, but no word had been delivered yet.

"Repeat what you just said, boy," Eames commanded of the skinny, big-eared lad standing before the dais. The boy repeated himself, and Eames suppressed a grimace.

Berrigan Stallen was dead, which meant Ironshire would need a new commander, and quickly. On the other hand, with Berrigan gone, there was less opposition to Eames' philosophy regarding the arohim. Capture and study was much more beneficial than killing on sight. Some of his peers were beginning to see this, while others were still blind.

With Berrigan and his outdated methods out of the way, Eames not only had more room to push his agenda, but was also more likely to be promoted. The High Council was a clandestine society, and its members did not advertise their position. Eames strongly suspected that Stallen was on the Council, however, and if he was, then a position had just become available.

"Full report!" Eames barked at the boy, making him start nervously.

As the boy reported, Eames listened intently, and despite his thorough mastery over his own emotions, he felt his expression begin to darken. Four arohim on the Sorral Plain? Hanging Heralds as if they had any right? Evacuating villages under the pretense of saving people?

If only those villagers knew the truth, they would have remained in their homes and waited for the Heralds to arrive, and welcomed them.

Eames clenched his fist beneath the table when the messenger tallied off the losses. Three hundred Heralds dead! Stallen was a blind fool! He'd led them right into a slaughter because of his own hubris. That Elves had aided the arohim surprised Eames not. Both were creatures of darkness and perversion; it made sense for them to unite, as they had in times past.

In addition, a hundred or so fresh recruits had deserted the morning of the battle for reasons unknown. They would be found, and they would answer for their cowardice.

"How did this information come to you, boy?" Eames asked suddenly, stopping the report mid-sentence. Eames wanted to verify before acting.

The young Herald swallowed. "Herald Brandon from Ironshire, my Lord Commander. He survived the battle, just barely. He managed to get to a horse and flee the forest. He was found near Rostin, almost bled to death."

"So, the arohim are hiding in the Emerin, then?" Eames asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, my Lord. According to Herald Brandon, they have a building deep in the forest."

It made sense. The Emerin was vast, the biggest forest in the world. A man could get lost in there and never find his way out. It would take months to search it, even with a full legion of Heralds. Perhaps there was a way to bring the arohim out.

"Thank you, Herald," Eames told the boy. "Is there anything else we should know?"

The boy paled, then, and stammered when he answered. "Only that-" He took a deep breath. "Only that Lord Stallen's son Kedron was reportedly an arohim himself, my Lord Commander."

The Councilors to either side of Eames shifted uncomfortably in their seats. From the corner of his eyes, Eames could see them glancing at each other. Fools. Never show uncertainty, especially before those you are leading.

Still, this news was not something any Herald would swallow easily. Purity of blood was everything, and such a highly regarded Herald spawning an arohim was unthinkable. Stallen was a fifth generation Herald, one of the longest serving families in the entire order, and he'd taken the lives of three arohim in his long years wearing the sunburst.

Was it Stallen's blood that was flawed? Or was it something else? Yet another reason for further studies on the arohim.

Done with the messenger, Eames dismissed him, but not before ordering him to whip his own back seven times for believing everything he heard. Then, Eames began not-so-gently encouraging his fellow Councilors to forget what they'd just heard.

It would not do for that particular fact to leak through the ranks.

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END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN

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