Chronicles of Hemlear Pt. 01

She shifted her waist and ground her hips against him, seeking the thick rod that she could feel pressing against her, needing to be filled. Another of the things she had inherited from her elfin mother was her naturally hairless sex, elves had no body hair whatsoever. But she had the larger labia and more pronounced clitoris of a human and they were very sensitive, more so when she was this aroused. As the swollen, wet lips brushed over the head of his cock she groaned in need. He laughed and his hands went to her hips and lifted her slightly, the head of his thick cock coming to rest against her pussy teasingly as he held her easily away from the object of her desire. She squirmed in his grip and fought to impale herself on his tool as he laughed and watched. Finally he relented when she snarled at him in her unanswered need and he pressed her against the wall as he rolled his hips and practically slammed into her all at once. He wasn't going slow, wasn't being gentle with her, he knew that she could take him, that he wouldn't hurt her doing this. Well... not hurt her too badly at any rate. And she could take it, and the feel of him slamming into her like a fist made her snarl turn into a loud cry as her back arched and her legs gripped him even harder and he snarled right back at her.

Averill gasped at the size of him, he stretched her walls and pressed against her cervix heavily. She climaxed quickly and arched her back as he took advantage of the moment to let her full weight rest down on his cock as his arms hooked her knees and he almost folded her in half, clearly familiar with how flexible she was. She was pressed back against the wall as his hips ground up into her, lifting her and pressing deep into her slick sex. Then he drew back slowly, stopping when just the head of his cock was still within her and he paused, watching her face. Averill was still in the throes of her orgasm and her teeth were bared at him in a snarl and her breath was raspy, coming in gasps and gulps. And as the last reverberations of her orgasm faded, he brought her down as his hips slammed up, driving his rod into her forcefully, her backside slapping against his thighs and she could feel his balls swing up and slap against her flesh as she cried out in ecstasy. There was no keeping her silence, no muffling her voice, she screamed in pleasure at the feel of him filling her so brutally and he was clearly pleased at the reaction as he rolled his hips and slammed back into her again, making her body jump and her canal clench at him and he laughed as he manhandled her, easily shifting her weight where he wanted her, keeping her nearly folded in half against the wall as his hips thrust up and ground his thick rod deeply into her aching, welcoming sex. Each thrust slapped their flesh together, and slammed the head of his shaft against her cervix like a fist slamming into her body, and she cried out once... twice... three times before she lost her voice, eyes rolled back in her head and unable to gain her breath as he drove into her, his strength and stamina overwhelming and the level of borderline brutality was as arousing to her as the impalement.

She felt her world going dim and the dream returned, those three women feeding on her blood, on her life and her energy. Her pussy convulsed wildly around him and he groaned as she squeezed him tight and clamped down and then she regained her breath and her voice with a howl of ecstasy. Her breast throbbed over her heart where the slender elf...

...Lillethe...

...had bitten her; her sex seemed to be on fire as her lover stepped from the wall, unable to move through the tight clamp of her sex and he stepped toward the bedstand as she sobbed in joy at the feeling... but the joy was sort lived as she laced her hands together and bit hard at her wrist where the third vampire had bitten her in the dream, hard enough to draw blood as her orgasm just seemed to turn to ashes. It had been a momentary surcease, a moment when she was whole and complete, but she still craved... she still desired... she still needed more than just that momentary respite. His hard fucking was good and she had enjoyed it, but she was already losing interest in him, already turning her mind to the next tryst, the next lover, the next... the next what? What was she seeking? What was she hungering for?

He shifted and she felt him slip out of her body, releasing one leg and then shifting her so her feet were on the floor and she practically slumped over the nightstand, lying beside the basin and ewer, which he swept off to crash to the floor as he stepped around behind her. She stood on trembling legs, knees just bent as his hands settled at her waist and the thickness of his cock came to rest in the cleft of her backside. She panicked for a moment, the thought of his thick rod spearing her there was both arousing and terrifying; she'd had lovers take her that way before and she had enjoyed it but she thought he would bring her more pain than anything else if he tried it. Thankfully he shifted and she felt his hips grinding against her for a moment before one hand left her waist and the head of his cock came to rest at her aching pussy. Eyes wide she looked back over her shoulder at him and bit her lower lip in anticipation. He reached forward and grasped her wrists, drawing her arms behind her back and managing to hold both with one broad hand as the other reached out to tangle in her hair as he pulled her back onto his thick rod.

She cried out, the sentiment fake but the feelings very real as he filled her so easily and completely and then he was drawing her back into his hammering cock, grunting with each thrust and making her grunt as he pounded into her again and again, his fist in her hair yanking hard and the pain arousing her a little once more so she moaned as she felt their flesh coming together, her rear slapping against his thighs, his balls swinging up to slap against her mound with each almost brutal thrust. He used his cock like a weapon on her and she didn't mind, he could try to hurt her all he wanted but she was tougher than she looked and he was hardly the most brutal of her lovers to date. But he was grunting with the effort of holding his pleasure as she looked back at him again and gritted her teeth.

"Not in me." She rasped. Much as she enjoyed... needed sex she didn't want a child by this man, and she had already slipped enough while drunk.

"Yer in no position to make demands, elfling." He said with a broad grin, baring his teeth and his slightly pronounced canines, indicative of his orc heritage and she gasped at the flash of fever-dream memory they brought. But she smiled her wickedest smile and shrugged.

"Your choice, but I wanted to taste you." She said, trying to sound resigned.

It worked, and his reaction was astonishing, his hands released her and he stepped back so quickly that her knees buckled and the first tremor of another orgasm made her thighs quake as she tried to get her balance back and control herself. The fleeting pleasure fled and she felt the familiar ache of need that seemed to be always there. She got control of herself, stood and turned to face him, still leaning on the nightstand for support, but a hand went to her aching, empty sex and she caressed herself as she looked him over. His impressive rod was standing straight out and his eyes were wide with anticipation. She smiled that wicked smile again and knelt to the floor, her knees spread wide and her eyes fixated upon him as she beckoned him closer, licking her lips and smiling as her hand went from her pussy to her lips and the other took its place. As he stepped close, she reached out to circle his shaft with her hands and stroked him slowly as she looked up into his eyes as she slowly sank to her knees.

She enjoyed pleasuring others with her mouth, men and women alike, and his truly impressive manhood made her heart skip a beat and her breath come faster. Her hand at her pussy was wet with juices so she reached up with that hand and stroked him as the other returned to her sex and she caressed her lips and delved a finger into herself as she sought to get back the fleeting pleasure of the lost orgasm. She kissed the head of his cock and rubbed her lips with the tip, tasting the familiar flavour of herself on him and she felt him twitch in her hand as she smiled and licked over his shaft, watching his face to see his reaction. She made eye contact with him as she leaned forward and guided the thick head of his member into her waiting mouth. He groaned as the moist heat of her mouth enveloped him and her sopping hand came from her sex to cup his sac. The feel of his stones, heavy and round in her hand, was good and she fondled him gently, but a flash from her fever dream came of the woman with the long blonde hair feasting between her thighs, teeth sunk deep into her flesh and painful pleasure tearing through her. Averill had to fight the sudden, powerful urge to bite his cock off and swallow it, to sink her hard teeth into his soft flesh, to drink his blood and tear his flesh.

As soon as the urge came it was gone again and she quickly forgot the dark urge as she licked the juices from him, savouring every drop and every moment, but she did her best to close off her nose to him. She was grateful for the size and stamina his orc blood gave him, but the stink of his heritage was strongest here, and the oily stink was hard to ignore. As she suckled him, she fondled his balls with her free hand and took a little more of him into her mouth with each passing moment as she moaned around his shaft. The pleasing vibrations had him off balance and she felt him slipping from her mouth. She let him free with a little pop as he cleared her lips and watched as he staggered back and sat down heavily on the bed. With her best impish grin, she cat-crawled over to him, weaving a wide S pattern so he could watch, her sweat-slick naked form, lithe and very agile. As she approached, he licked his lips and blinked, her hands came to rest on his knees and she slowly pushed his legs farther apart.

He watched her with wide eyes as she bit her lower lip again, something that most lovers had told her was quite fetching, and lowered down to kiss his shaft, never breaking eye contact with him as she kissed his length several times and licked along the bottom before capturing him with her slender hands and covering the head with her mouth. He looked back at her, speechless as she took him deeper and deeper into her small mouth. She couldn't take all of him, not when he was this well-endowed, but the feel of his cock in her mouth was very arousing. She closed her eyes, moaned and bobbed her head a little faster with each passing moment. She heard his breath quicken and she could feel the tension building in the length of his cock as she reached down with one hand and furiously masturbated herself. She moaned as her heat rose quickly and aggressively, but it never quite crested, never really reached the pinnacle that she craved.

He gave a cry moments later and his seed spilled into her mouth, washing across her tongue to be swallowed down quickly, as if she were dying of thirst. The wash of it quelled the need in her some, let the burning need cool slightly and she gasped and panted as she drank it all down until the last of it spurted, velvety smooth on her tongue. Smiling, she licked him slowly and lovingly, one of her hands never leaving her pussy as her head came to rest on his thigh and her other hand continued to fondle him. His hand stroked her hair and she looked up at him. He was staring off into space, but a moment later he looked down at her and smiled, bending to scoop her from the floor and lay her in the bed again. He laid down next to her and enfolded her in his arms. Despite her recent rest, she felt like sleeping again, as she usually did after sex and her eyes closed. She felt his hand at her bare breast, holding possessively to pull her back against his broad chest, the feel of his half-flaccid cock against her back and she smiled as she wiggled her bottom against him teasingly. Perhaps he would wake her with his rod for one last toss, or so she hoped as she drifted into sleep haunted by dreams of elven eyes shining like lanterns in the mist.

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Averill woke to an empty bed. She looked around for her unnamed lover, but he was nowhere to be seen. She stretched on the bed, smiling contentedly in the still baking afterglow and rose to dress. It was always nice when they just left without a word, it avoided complications. Her appetite for sex lately had taken a very strong turn for the rough and often, and she was getting less and less picky about her partners. Yet despite the constant companionship, she was feeling unfulfilled more often, which led to her seeking additional partners more often. It was easy enough for her to find them when she went looking, she knew she was attractive and she knew how to use her looks to get her choice of men or women into her bed. The trouble was getting what she needed from them in return. Orgasms weren't enough anymore and what her most recent partner had taunted about a shaajan ka came back to her. But she pushed that idea aside roughly. She was never going to be a mother, it didn't suit her.

As she washed up, her fingers lingered at her sex and the feel of even that light, casual caress made her moan in need. She gritted her teeth against it and against the desire to just lay in bed and masturbate herself back to unconsciousness. She finished washing as much as the simple room allowed and then reached for her clothes. As she pulled the tight leather pants up her strong legs and sighed at the caress of her skin and the feel of the seam against her sex. She hadn't worn smallclothes in as long as she could remember, but with the way she had been aroused by the slightest thing lately she was considering it. She had ruined three pairs of pants in the last few months with stains, and she had switched from brown to black leather to try and abate that at least for a while.

Next she reached for her shirt; matching the pants it left her midriff bare and her flat tone tummy was a source of attention, and she liked that. Her boots came to mid-thigh and concealed a dagger and some of her tools. Averill was no thief, but often the jobs she took meant she had to gain entry to locked places and not all of her tools were strictly legal in the purest sense of the word so she kept some of the more common tools on her at all times. She was very skilled with her tools and not for the first time she thought of seeking out the Trapbreakers tower in the northlands and seeing if she had what it took to gain entry and learn from the masters that resided there. Being recognized by the guild would mean a lot more money for her in her work and she could always use more money. Most of her tools were custom, they had to be because most of the locks and traps she ran across were purpose built and common tools just wouldn't work for them, so she made her own tools and scavenged others and traded for the illegal ones from others she knew in the same line.

The fines for some of them were steep if she was caught, and adventurers were hardly above the law, but as a tool of her trade she was willing to risk it. A wide belt went around her waist and she buckled the clasp and settled her long knives into their sheaths. Then she stretched to settle everything in place and groaned and smiled, feeling good. She was very agile and flexible, and as she straightened herself she looked around the room and saw the little brown pouch on the bed stand. She quirked an eyebrow as she walked over and picked it up, but then hissed and cursed when she saw what was in it. Shouldering her pack she stalked down the stairs to the main room and looked around, but didn't see the big man anywhere.

She walked over to the barman, who had a smirk on his face as she approached. "The big man I was with, where did he go?"

"He left an hour ago, headed on the west road." As Averill went to turn away the bar man caught her wrist. "We charge ten slivers for whores to use this place."

She moved fast, twisting out of his grip while her other hand brought the long blade of her knife around to bear, stopping as she stropped it along the side of his throat. "Is it so forbidden for a woman to enjoy sex in these parts that you treat them like whores, or do you think all women are whores?" She asked him, his beard along the right side of his neck shaved clean by the precise, magically sharpened edge of the blade. The barman swallowed heavily and that was enough for the edge of the blade to cut his skin as her arm held perfectly steady. "I am many things, swine. But I am not a whore." A flash of her arm sliced the beard from the left side of his neck and the blade snapped back into the sheath at her hip as she turned away, dismissing the man as she walked from the door to seek her horse.

She hefted the little pouch of coins in her hand as she walked and vowed to carve her name in that orc-blooded bastards hide before she slit him from neck to navel. He had paid her... PAID her like she was some common street whore spreading her legs for coin, and she was not to be bought for coin. But she knew that she had been moaning and calling out enough to attract attention and that was what it got her. But she was no whore, she had too much pride in herself for that and in truth she should be the one paying him. She didn't even know his name, and had only chosen him because the need was too strong to ignore. And as she walked toward the stables she could still feel that need inside of her, that gnawing, desperate desire to be filled.

She bit her lower lip again, this time in indecision as she walked to the stables and paid the boarding and feed for her horse. The stable boy saddled it for her and she lashed her gear in place before leading the mare out of the stable. But she turned to the boy, a human of about sixteen summers who she saw ogling her backside and tummy and she spared him a smile and flashed him a sliver.

"Did a big man stable a horse here, six and a half feet, dark hair, broad shoulders and orc-blooded?" At that last, the boy nodded.

"Yes, he left here about an hour or so ago, headed west with four others. He steal something from you too?" The boy asked. "He made off with five pounds of feed; the stable master will take those six slivers out of my hide."

She opened the little brown pouch and took out eight slivers and passed them to the boy with the one she had shown him before. "There, he paid now and you don't have to tell your master." She ran a hand along his neck and offered up her best smile in additional payment. Perhaps when she came back this way she would stop here and make the boy into a man. She shook her head at her own lascivious thoughts and smiled again as she gave her backside an extra sway as she took up the reigns again and led her horse toward the gates. She had never been this open with her body before. Sure, sex was as good as coin in some places, and you could get a lot with a look and a bit of skin that no amount of gold could net you. But she had never been this free with her skin, or this lecherous with her thoughts.

The day was in full swing by now, and she had to thread through wagons and vendors, fend off urchins and beggars and dodge the watch at least twice before she made it to the west gate. It was called the herdsmens gate, and she could see... and smell... why. Livestock were lined up for a good distance and she groaned at the thought of passing through them all. She was going to lose some real distance. This was why she hated the gates when the city was busy. It stank here and just lately the banal stink seemed to affect her more than usual. She led her horse through the press and finally managed to make her way out, stopping to ask one of the gate watchmen if he had seen the group leave. He pointed her along the main road to Hardor's Crossing, a city a few days ride away and she thanked him before mounting and giving chase, she had to make up ground somehow, and she pushed her horse to a gallop to catch up to them.