Chronicles of the Black Swords Ch. 04

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MSTarot
MSTarot
3,093 Followers

Her legs hold her to me now pulling me into her as I send lash after lash against her bare breast. The nipples seem to swell as they draw blow after blow across them. Her screams run the full gambit of pleasure to pain.

I feel it then. The building pressure at the base of my cock. I scream in denial at it. I do not want this to end. I want to take her hot sweet flesh for all time, whipping her till the skin peals back.

"No! No No! NO! NO!" My cries rip my throat as I feel myself start to cum in her. It's wonderful and not enough to slake the firers of lust that devour me now. With the tip still spewing I push her thighs from around my waist, letting her fall to swing on the chains.

With all my strength I send the lash at her now. The multiple strand striking all of her body with terribly brutal power.

"Master have mercy!" she cries out to me, but that is but fuel to the fires that consume my mind.

Blow after blow I land, my mind reeling Scream after scream leaves her. Begging pleas for mercy go unheard then cries of pain do as well. I feel myself hardening even as my arm fall limp with use.

Catching her, I pull her too me again. The whip held to the back of her head pressed into the soft sweaty hair. Our faces touch just inches apart. I breath in the hot panting breaths from her mouth.

"Mine forever." I say then.

"Yes...oh my yes. By the Hand of the Maker I am your, Simon."

Above me I hear the chains break then her arms are around me, her lips pulling me tighter, sucking me in. I feel almost a falling sensation then as if I'm being consumed by the power of her mouth. I care not in the least. Let her consume me. Let her take all she wishes and discard the rest.

The red waves of lust builds then to unholy levels.

I must have her again. I must take this sweet bruised flesh, have it again, then again, then again till the world shatters and my heart stops.

My eyes open to the pale light of the moon enveloping me. Panting for breath I look up at that round orb. Though hours feel like they have passed I can see that it's but moments.

Both of my hands are clutched around the top of the black cross.

Nay...not top... Hilt.

With a scream I pull the massive black war blade from the cairn I feel it's terrible power filling me, it's a familiar feeling though. That red fire lust I felt is now all that I feel. No other thought can compete with that need. I hold that massive blade to the heaven challenging even the moon to deny it is mine.

Everything is mine if I wish it!

My eyes go from the blade off towards the far distant edge of the swamp. It's far to far away but by some trick I can see the yellow lit windows of the lords castle. I know that he is sleeping his soft bed, his belly filled with roasted deer I killed.

A hunger come to me then. It cannot compete with the lust, but it is there all the same. A ravenous desire to fill my belly with rich red meat, succulent flesh torn from the bone with my teeth.

But the lust! It's there as well. A powerful desire to drive hard into soft and wet and hear screams! Like acid in my veins it is. I lift the massive war blade and look down it's dark length.

"Yours forever my lover." I hear Shandrell's voice come to me then. "Use me to fill thy needs, my master. Let them scream, let their papered flesh feel the lash. Let their wives and daughters slake your lust! USE ME!"

Shivering with desire I lift the war blade in both hand.

"ARIZE!"

The power of my voice is starling. I know its commanding scream is being heard all across tithe swamp.

I see the stir in the still water in the soft bluish light of the moon. Draped in muck, dripping water and moss they stir from the watery mire.

"ARIZE!"

The very swamp begins to boil as those souls long given to Shandrell heed my call. Long rotted flesh stirs mud stained bone. Draped in the tatters of clothing and rusted armor they stand. First in dozens, then in hundreds they rise form the water. Then in the thousands they answer.

Around me, closest to the blade I see them then. The captains of old, war leaders. Men that Shandrell make her slaves. Who gave themselves to her whipping rather than hurt her. They hold power to themselves but it power given not taken. Among them I see others as well. Their hands bound in chains.

Far less than slaves are they. Mindless creature of lust driven rage, they failed her test. Little more than beast driven by hunger till madness took them. I know they will feed upon anything.

I hear stone stir behind me. Looking back I see him rise. The last one to wield the war blade. The Hell blade.

Shandrell.

A massive man he was and powerful of spirit and character. Even little more than bones that power still fills him. His eyes go to me in judgment, then I feel his will fall upon me. To take Shandrell from me.

The red fires answer.

Shaking with rage I lift the six foot of midnight steel till it's tip is right in front of his eyes. Looking down the length of Shandrell we stare with hate at each other till one of us looks away.

It is not me.

As I lower the sword I know the reason. I find it in my mind, not my thought but hers, it is glowing with the heat of old hatred.

He used the whip to tame Shandrell. She was his slave.

With me? I used it to drive her lust and my own to greater heights.

Shandrell is mine, but I am hers. I feel her laughter within me at that though. No...we are one. One body, twin souls

At my..or is it her command? The enslaved ones pick up the banners. New cloth unfurl from the standards. They lift the banners high into the moonlight.

My eyes look to the very edges of the swamp. Then beyond to the farm, the little houses with the tired sleeping farmers, their fat wives,and their dozen workers, children, and slaves. Fires, damped for the night, sleep as well. There embers will not be awoken with the coming dawn to prepare food.

There will be no dawn!

As I lift my hand great clouds of fog begin to blow upwards from the surface of the swamp. Great smoking columns of it rise into the night to grab at the racing clouds and tear them down. The moon, tryign to warn the world of what is coming, lets her last light touch the rusted armor of my growing army even as great war horns are being sounded.

Far away in the night the lord of the manor awakens to shiver. He know not what has awaken him but it grows with a steady sense of terror till he manages to calm his nerves with brandy wine. Even as sleep is taking hold of him again the first waves of the hideous undead are crossing the water towards him and his lands.

In their midst rides Simon the Poacher? No longer by that name will he be known to the world... other names will he carry now.

The Red Butcher.

The Sun Slayer.

The Unholy!

MSTarot
MSTarot
3,093 Followers
12
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4 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
W*** the F***

This is some serious s***

Needs an editor. Imaginative plot lines with lots of potential.

Harry: Potter better look out.

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Third option....

Nice touch having a third option. Reminds me of the story of the lady and the tiger. Doomed man can only choose one door. One holds his bride to be, the other holds the tiger who will kill him. he can only choose one door. You allowed a thrid option in your story and I like that very much.

Sincerely, Payenbrant

Shadowreader7Shadowreader7about 10 years ago
New chapter

Nice a new chapter:) looking forward to the next one

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