Cinder and the Season of Monsoons

The long strips of parchment reminded Cinder of the strange poem Barkhiya had given her, and the air was filled with the smell of beeswax from the multitude of lit tapers. Both of these things got Cinder inexplicably aroused, and resulted in her and Maeryll fingering each other surreptitiously under the table. This was made somewhat more challenging by the fact that the elves were also trying to hold a conversation with a group of scholars visiting Mansuriyahh from the western marshes, eager to experience the festival of Al-Rabea for themselves.

Given the candlelight chasing away the shadows in the crowded room, Cinder couldn't exactly shove a glass between her legs to catch her climax when it thundered through her. She settled instead for sucking Maeryll's fingers clean, which seemed to excite the traveling scholars quite a bit (many of which were pretty cute, in a bookish sort of way). Cinder eventually let Maeryll drag her away from them and back into the rain, but it was under protest.

They spent some time next in a bar called Written and Bound. The building had begun life as a small library, but some enterprising person had snapped it up and converted it into a pub. The walls were covered with shelves filled with books, and piles of them littered the floor to serve as both tables and seating. Yards of unfurled scrolls made from thick, cream-colored parchment hung from the ceiling, nearly touching the floor. The scrolls rustled as patrons passed among them, giving the sense of traveling through a paper forest.

Serving girls with eyelashes powdered with gold dust circulated through the groves of parchment, handing out steaming cups of aromatic apricot liqueur sweetened with honey to customers. The girls wore paper flowers in their hair made from the pages of books, and thin, jeweled belts encircled their slender waists. This time it was Cinder who had to pull a reluctant Maeryll away from the place, but not before drinking a glassful of her pleasure in a private nook surrounded by shoulder-high stacks of erotica novels.

A bar called The Easel seemed to be more artist commune than tavern, but wine and good company flowed freely along with the paint and Cinder took a shine to it. It mostly consisted of a single room, large and open, lit by enchanted floating globes which bobbed softly near the ceiling. The walls were adorned by colorful paintings. Sculptures made of bronze, glass and clay ringed the room, set in niches.

Patrons sat at tables surrounded by art supplies, some of them working on their own masterpieces while others simply watched, admired, and sipped their drinks. Naked men and women posed here and there, serving as inspiration for studies and maquettes. A few had the look of professional models, but many appeared to be customers who'd disrobed and struck a pose at the urging of their cheering, clapping friends.

Cinder and Maeryll made a bit of a stir as they walked in, although whether that was due to their elvish nature or the fact that their clothing had become little more than rain-soaked rags by this point was up for debate.

A short, rotund man with a bushy beard and twinkling eyes was giving out sketches at the door, and he spent a few furious minutes scribbling before he handed Cinder a piece of paper. Her brows creased as she looked down at the sketch, which seemed to be mostly a stick figure with two big circles on its chest.

Maeryll peered over her shoulder. "Points for accuracy."

"Fair enough," Cinder shrugged.

Several artists clamored for the elves to pose for them, and the two women eventually ended up lying naked and entwined upon a large divan splattered in gold paint. Cinder and Maeryll were already tangled up nude together on a bed, and adding in the heavy, hot weight of all those eyes focused on them got Cinder all kinds of tingly and excited. She was extremely grateful when she gave an experimental little grind of her pelvis and Maeryll responded in kind.

They had sex there on the divan in the center of the bar while a roomful of artists used paint and clay to try and capture the sinuous elegance of their bodies slithering together. The attention was thrilling. Maeryll borrowed a long-handled brush from one of the painters and used it to stroke a series of mind-blowing eruptions from Cinder's insatiable sex. They squirmed and strained against each other, flesh soon burnished in streaks of golden paint.

Cinder came in a fountainous spray. After lapping up the puddle of her come from the dimpled upholstery of the divan like an animal drinking at a watering hole, the curvy elf set her sights on payback. She nearly smothered Maeryll with her boobs while wearing her cunt like a glove. Come and sweat glistened on smooth skin sliding over lean muscle. Fingers gripped slopes and curves, squishing, kneading, teasing. Paint spread and dripped in golden rivers.

Alas, the artists ran out of gloss varnish before they could finish their work. Cinder kind of wanted to see what everyone came up with, but she and Maeryll quickly grew bored waiting, and were driven back into the storm by their restless vaginas.

They didn't bother with their ruined clothing, and the rain washed the gold and come from their elvish flesh. The two women laughed as they dashed through the downpour, swept away by a monsoon of ecstatic fervor.

The rain fell, unceasing. The night wore on, but Cinder's thirst remained unquenched. They lost the coupe glass somewhere along the way, but found some sodden clothing hanging from a forgotten clothing line. They replaced the missing glass with a beer mug, lost that too, then in turn swapped it for a large tumbler of faceted crystal.

In each place they visited, the women banged each others' brains out, and in each place, Cinder guzzled down more and more of her own come. The night turned into a sort of jizz-soaked slurry in Cinder's mind. She surfed cresting waves of pleasure, mouth full of the sweet tang of her squirt, skin wet and fevered, ears ringing with the noise of rain falling on stone and the buzzing of bees. Maeryll's smirk and wonderfully cruel fingers were a constant, something to anchor herself to in the liquid dream of lust and riotous need.

Cinder drank and came and drank again, quaffing of herself until her belly sloshed with every step she took. At some point she looked down to find her stomach was visibly bulging. She might've been concerned, but quickly became distracted when she gazed past the caramel tanned swell of her tummy to see a dreamy-eyed Maeryll busy supping at the font of her cunt. They were both naked again—she wasn't mad about it, not with Maeryll looking all slippery and delicious, but how had it happened? Maybe the point was moot, since Cinder was pretty sure that the bars had closed by that point.

They were in some kind of park, wet grass between their toes and the rain falling on broad leaves. Dazed, Cinder didn't remember how they'd gotten there. The buzzing of bees filled her ears.

"Is there a hive nearby?" she murmured aloud, her voice thick and her brain foggy.

Maeryll ignored the question. "I wanna fuck you," she said, her breath hot against Cinder's vulva.

"What've you been doing for the past... How long have we been out here?"

"Oh, did you suddenly stop wanting it?"

"Hm. Good point."

The two elves stumbled in a kind of stupefied trance towards a fountain at the center of the park. The shooting jets of water seemed redundant with the deluge still pouring down from the sky, but the larger-than-life statue of a man standing in the center of it was neat.

"Oh," she said, blinking bleary eyes up at the statue. "Hey Barkhiya."

The statue didn't reply, which made sense. It was just a statue, although she would've sworn she'd seen that bearded grin in the oasis earlier that... what, had it only been a few hours ago? It felt like it might have been a lifetime. Or perhaps just a handful of minutes?

"Big fingers," Maeryll observed. She had her hands on her hips and was staring up at the effigy in the fountain thoughtfully.

"Wuh?"

"The statue has big fingers. I wanna fuck you with them."

That made a certain amount of sense to Cinder. Her belly was full and her pussy was sore, but somehow, unbelievably, the wood elf girl was still as randy as she'd been at the start of their pub crawl.

The two elves climbed into the fountain, and Cinder gave Maeryll a boost so she could clamber up to reach the statue's hands. It was the work of a few moments for the silver-tressed woman to break two of them free, and she came down to show Cinder her stony prize. The broken fingers were thick and certainly phallic, just the right size to Cinder's eyes.

The women spilled out of the fountain, tumbling onto the soft grass in a giddy entanglement of slippery, nubile flesh. Cinder lay on top of Maeryll, exploring her friend's mouth with her tongue while grinding her thigh into Maeryll's fair-haired cunt. They fell into a rhythm, hips rolling like a pair of finely crafted vessels on uncalm seas. They pressed into each other, Cinder's engorged belly nestled against Maeryll's slender stomach. The sight of Maeryll's sex face—cheeks and neck flushed, lips parted, eyes heavy, hair spread out on the wet grass like a silver fan—nearly made Cinder come all by itself.

Maeryll reached a crest of pleasure and drew Cinder in tight, then sank her teeth into Cinder's shoulder, screaming silently as the lithe power of her body spasmed in throes of ecstasy underneath the taller elf.

"Hey! Jeez, ow! You're really chomping on me!"

Maeryll didn't bother to reply to that. Instead she did some sort of assassin flip that Cinder couldn't really parse and that was also totally cheating. In a blur of limbs their positions were reversed, and Maeryll's damp silver hair tickled Cinder's face.

"Do you want it, Cin?" Maeryll asked, coyly teasing her fingers between Cinder's legs, stroking her folds. Cinder was treated to an immediate wave of gratification.

"Yeah," Cinder nodded, far too aroused for shame or pride.

"Do you need it?"

Maerylls fingers left her cunt, and Cinder gritted her teeth with frustration. "Yes, okay? Fuck's sake, wring me dry already!"

"Mmm," Maeryll purred, wicked intent sparkling sapphire in her eyes.

The pale elf slid off Cinder, grabbing the other woman's legs. Cinder wasn't sure where this was going but if it meant she got to drink her own squirt again, she was willing to go along for the ride.

She let Maeryll maneuver her until she was lying on her back, shoulders pressed into the wet earth and hips raised. Spread in an upside-down split, Cinder's pussy was pointed up at the storm wracked sky. The rain felt warm and soothing on the lips of her vulva. It trickled down the crack of her ass, sliding around her swollen belly, distended from drinking vast amounts of her own come. She was exposed, obscenely open for Maeryll to feast upon.

Maeryll knelt and feathered kisses along her parted legs, licking her way towards the center of Cinder's sex while supporting her hips with an arm. All of Cinder's weight was on her shoulders, but the searing pleasure of Maeryll's tongue dancing across the spread lips of her pussy was enough to make the discomfort more than worth it.

Lightning spiderwebbed the night sky like cracked glass, and Cinder caught a glint of gray stone in the flash. Maeryll was holding one of the statue's broken fingers in her hand. Cinder watched, mesmerized, as Maeryll plunged the makeshift dildo into Cinder's sloppy cunt. The penetration was accompanied by a crash of thunder that drowned out Cinder's happy screams.

"GRaahhHHungghfffFFuck!"

Cinder grunted like a beast as Maeryll thrust the dildo into her, penetrating deep into what seemed like the very core of her being.

It was an intense sort of bliss, and it had Cinder's cunt quickly leaking. Little dribbles of ardor combined with the rain to slide down her body, sluicing away sweat and spit. Maeryll brought the second dildo to the party, and it was all Cinder could do to hold onto sanity. She eased it into the tight ring of Cinder's asshole, sinking inch after inch of unyielding stone into her butt until Cinder felt as full as a treasure chest in the final room of a dungeon delve.

Cinder's finger's dug furrows into the wet earth and tore up the grass. Her exhausted body quivered and trembled on the precipice as the double-penetration drove sweet agony into her willing flesh. Maeryll's tongue joined the thrusting symphony of the stone fingers, licking around and along her liquid folds. Cinder came, sticky gouts wrenched from her sodden, spasming pussy like the watery spray of the nearby fountain. Her squirt splashed up, then fell down onto her own face. She opened her mouth to catch it, gulp after greedy gulp.

She quickly lost count of the number of orgasms Maeryll fucked out of her, a tally told in spurts of cunt-dew and euphoric screeches which dissolved into wordless mumbles. Maeryll was merciless, and Cinder's body responded to her ministrations with a barrage of sweaty, desperate, ravenous jizzing. The snow elf mauled Cinder's tits, squeezing her nipples until she whimpered, but Cinder reveled in the way her body was being played like a rough instrument.

It went on for what felt like ages, there under the rain on the muddy grass of the park. Cinder felt like she was drowning in the sheer, gluttonous extravagance, plunging into the depths of an ocean of tension and release. Her belly was full to bursting, her skin so fever-hot she was surprised that the rain didn't sizzle when it fell on her flesh.

Maeryll finally fell back heavily, her bottom squelching into the wet earth. She was drenched up to her elbows in the viscous splatter of Cinder's many loads, and wore a triumphant smile on her face.

"Whoa," Cinder managed to sit up, dazed. "I think there's come in my ears." She spent a few moments shaking the effluvia out of her head. The jizz eventually trickled out of her ear canal, but the strange buzzing of bees remained.

More.

Cinder crawled across the grass, dragging herself through the mud to the crystal tumbler which lay heretofore forgotten on the ground. She picked it up and held it between her legs, then returned her fingers to her sex. She moaned, undulating with pleasure as she rubbed her clit, and drove herself to another wailing orgasm. It burst in a thick gush from her tortured pussy and flowed into the waiting glass.

Rain mingled with the spunk, and Cinder crooked a beckoning finger in Maeryll's direction.

"Really?" Maeryll asked, perhaps surprised by her friend's undimmed lust. "My forearms are aching."

"Yeah," Cinder insisted.

Maeryll crawled into her lap, and Cinder dragged the elf woman's hand back to her cunt, wiping the sweat from her brow. She took the brimming tumbler in a trembling hand and put it to her lips, spilling some on her wrist and neck. Then she was breathlessly chugging another pint of her own cum, while Maeryll just kept right on fingerblasting her, her bare tits shaking on her chest to the snow elf's unyielding rhythm.

Cinder closed her eyes and put the glass back between her legs. She was coming again—or maybe she hadn't really stopped—and another soaking convulsion erupted from deep inside her. Her hips shook so violently she splashed all over the place, covering Maeryll and watering the grass, but only managing to fill the tumbler up a little over halfway. Before she'd even come down from the high of the climax, she was tipping the tumbler against Maeryll's glossy wet lips.

Maeryll drank it down, the needy sounds she made bringing a smile to Cinder's mouth.

"More..." the redheaded elf murmured.

Maeryll looked up from the glass. "Huh?"

"I got more," Cinder panted, shakily standing up, mud squelching through bare toes. She planted the glass on the ground and squatted over it.

"I wanna watch you do it," Maeryll whispered, wiping her sweaty face with the back of her hand, and leaning back to run her fingers through the silver hair frosting her cunt.

"Ahh... Okay," Cinder whimpered, one hand gripping her breasts, mauling, pinching, squeezing.

Her belly bulged and her blood thundered in her head, veins buzzing with sweet, anguished need. With her other hand, she slid three fingers into her pussy from the back, and began to thrust.

Part 6: The Cup Bearer

Cinder awoke with the dawn, the light of the sun falling like a warm blanket on her recumbent nudity.

She smacked her lips together and rose to one elbow, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with the heel of a hand. There was a strange taste in her mouth, like the faded memory of honey and sex. Maeryll stirred next to her. She mumbled something in her sleep before turning over and putting an arm across her face.

"What happened last night?" Cinder muttered.

She and Maeryll were lying on a patch of grass in a lush garden. The rain had stopped and the sun was climbing, golden and bright, through the pale blue of a fresh washed sky. Cinder took a breath, inhaling the smell of rich, dark loam and growing things.

The garden was filled with flowering vines and fruit trees. Small birds perched on the spiked, fleshy leaves of aloe, singing to greet the morning. Obelisk cypresses reached finger-like for the sky, and water played and babbled in a fountain nearby.

At the sight of the fountain and the broken-fingered statue atop it, the events of the night before came crashing back to her. Cinder sucked a breath through her teeth and looked down with more than a little trepidation, but her belly had returned to its normal proportions.

She reached between her legs and gave her pussy a reassuring pat. Given last night's debauchery, Cinder expected to feel like a dishrag passed through a laundry press. Instead, she felt invigorated and refreshed, ready to take on whatever the day might bring with a clear head and boundless energy.

Cinder combed her fingers through the tangle of her ruddy hair. She sat up, and noticed that she and Maeryll were surrounded by flowers. Blossoms grew in concentric circles in the grass around where the elves lay—bright pink star-clover and fragrant jasmine along with a rainbow of desert roses. Bees flitted from bloom to bloom, filling the waking garden with the noise of their dance.

Cinder stared cross-eyed at a bee that landed on her nose. It took a few steps, its tiny feet tickling her, before flying off in search of nectar.

"Huh," Cinder giggled, "would you look at that?"

"Cinder."

The voice was deep and familiar, and it sent a shiver of recognition (and more) racing through the elf's body. She looked up to find Barkhiya staring down at her. It was a little difficult to see his face because of the rising sun framing his head like a halo of molten metal, but she would've recognized that broad smile anywhere.

"I knew I didn't just hallucinate you in the desert!" she said happily. "So, what's up?"

"You've done very well," Barkhiya chuckled. The sound was warm and inviting, rumbling up from somewhere deep in his chest. "This season will be long and fecund. It promises to become a time of growth, renewal and abundance. The Voiceless Ribbon will flow deep and strong, and the land will remember it for many years to come."

"Hey, that's great," Cinder said, letting a suggestive smirk spread across her face. "I think I know how you could pay me back."

Barkhiya laughed again, and the golden halo of the sun eclipsed everything except the mischevious slash of his smile. "Thank you again, little elf."

Cinder sensed the conversation was at an end, but she still had questions. "Wait a second," she protested, "who are you really, anyway?"

"My name is Sergeant Khalina of the Mansuriyahh City Watch," came the reply, "and you and your friend are under arrest."