Krond and Cyrilla Ch. 03

Cyrilla panicked. It was too much to think of. She couldn't kill him, couldn't go back to Bastigar. She'd be punished. Gods, was he watching them right now? Could she run? Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Krond's smile broke into worry. "I do too much? You do not want this? Cyrilla, I am sorry. Please."

Cyrilla slumped forward onto her hands, and her voice caught in her throat, "I'm... I'm... scared! Krond. I'm scared I'll be hurt again! I don't know what to do, I don't want to be hurt anymore!"

Krond lifted her to her feet and sat her on the bed. He crouched in front of her, a hand on her knee.

"I will not hurt you, Cyrilla. Stay with me. I will keep you safe."

She sobbed quietly, and he put his arms around her. Their wet mouths found each other again, and they fell back into the bed. He held her tenderly, and she curled into him, feeling protected. Feeling safe. Together, they fell asleep.

--

When she awoke, Cyrilla shot upright. She expected to be back in the Bloodbrick Tower, Bastigar screaming in her face. To be in chains. Whipped. To be Cyril again. Instead, sun was streaming in through a half-open shutter, and she could hear birds chirping. Silk sheets were draped over her legs, and Krond's naked, hulking body lay next her, half-covered. His broad, strong chest rose and fell, his hair splayed out behind his head. One arm was across his stomach, and the other was lying across the bed. She had slept there, in the crook between it and his warm, powerful body.

She looked down at herself. She was still a woman, still Cyrilla. How long would this magic last? What would Krond do if he woke up to some hideous slave boy in his bed?

He wouldn't hurt that boy. She didn't know why she was so sure of that, but she was. Krond wouldn't hurt Cyrilla, and he wouldn't hurt Cyril. She smiled down on Krond's sleeping form, and placed a hand delicately on his chest, feeling the warm, smooth muscle.

He was so powerful, but so gentle. He'd stopped when she was scared. That was so good of him, so unexpected. She leaned over him and kissed his chest. She inhaled his scent, rich with musk and leather and sweat. She exhaled with a shudder; his smell aroused something in her. She inhaled again, and kissed his body again, this time lower, near his ribs. Then his hand, then his belly. She lifted the silk from his lower body and revealed his manhood. It was half-engorged, lying against his leg. She kissed near it, on the rise of his pelvic bone, and his cock twitched. It was swelling. She looked up towards his face to see his eyes flicked open, lids still heavy with sleep.

"C-Cyrilla... you stayed..." He seemed surprised.

She whispered, "I'm here, Krond."

She rested her head against his side, and placed one of her hands on his growing cock. It was hot, and smooth. It felt soft and wonderful in her hand, and she wrapped her fingers around it, not quite able to fully encircle its massive girth. It was heavy with blood when she lifted it up, its muscle flexing against her grip as it stretched upwards. Krond groaned at her touch, and she felt his hand on her back. She looked up at him and smiled, then pulled on his cock, running her hand up then down his long shaft. A line of precum immediately streamed out, slicking Cyrilla's thumb. She twisted her fingers to get them all wet with his fluids, then began slowly stroking him, drawing a long moan from the gentle warrior.

Cyrilla could feel herself wet as well, her chest heaving with each breath, breasts pressed into Krond's leg. She'd never been so excited before, never felt this alive. She pushed herself up on one elbow, and swung a slender leg over one of his firm, muscular ones. She straddled it, sliding her warm, wet slit against his thigh, and wrapping both of her hands around Krond's thick shaft. She stroked it rhythmically, laughing to herself at how marvelous it felt to have this power over a cock so majestic.

"You are more beautiful in the morning. I did not think it could be true," Krond mumbled through a drunken smile.

Cyrilla had already made her decision. She knew what she wanted.

"Krond..." she whispered between deep strokes of his cock, "just... promise me... you won't... cum inside me."

"I will do nothing you do not ask for, Cyrilla."

Her heart expanded in her chest, thumping impossibly hard. She inched forward on her knees until she had a leg on either side of his torso, her swollen cunt above his stiff cock. She reached down and lifted it off his belly, strings of precum stretching between. She positioned the glistening head and began slowly lowering her body onto his. The slick tip kissed her slit, the fluids mingling, slippery and hot. It pressed into the outer folds of her sex, and she gasped, inhaling sharply. She pushed downwards, tentatively, feeling it spread her swollen layers, her hairless cunt slick and wet and red. It slid in deeper still, and Cyrilla felt the wondrous sensation Shivani had given her with her fingers but magnified. His massive cock pushed deeper, filling her, her breath running out of her ragged, her back slick with new sweat. She cried out in intense pleasure, her eyes wet and hungry, staring down into Krond's beautiful face.

She pushed down as hard as she could, her cunt swallowing every inch until her pubic mound was pressed into his. She shuddered, and fell on her hands, catching herself against his rippling chest.

"By the gods, Cyrilla..." Krond exhaled, his face twisting with intensity.

"Krond! I-I... it's so good! I've never felt... so good!"

"Move... with me," he managed through a clenched jaw.

He put his hands on her hips and moved his torso in a gentle wave, lowering then rising, his thick cock straining into her wet cunt, expanding into her in all directions with every slow rise. She caught his rhythm quickly, rolling her hips in time with him, her eyes rolling back in profound pleasure.

Krond's strong arms lifted her ass, the shaft of his cock sliding out, then driving back in. Cyrilla gasped and whispered, "More, Krond. Like that. But harder."

He did as he was told, and held her at the waist, tiny in his massive grip, and thrust into Cyrilla deeper, pulling out further, then back in, harder. She cried out with every thrust, her cries compelling him to thrust even harder. Harder, faster. She balanced herself and held her bouncing breasts, squeezing them while Krond pounded into her, wet clapping as their bodies met with growing intensity.

The look on his face was pure animalistic lust. She returned his heady gaze with her own, through thick lashes and her half-open mouth, breathing hard and fast as she rode his cock. Waves of pleasure poured into her, and she lost track of time, her conscious mind lost in the glory of their sex.

He slowed her down, breathing sharply. "Cyrilla... I'm close. We must go slow."

She pushed down hard until her slick, swollen clit was pressed into his damp cock hair. She ground into him this way, unable to control herself any longer. She was approaching something. She knew it, and she couldn't stop now. She closed her eyes, and gripped his huge shoulders, leaning forward, her nipples brushing his chest as she kept twisting her hips. She squeezed her eyes tighter, desperate to keep going; she was so close now. She whimpered into his neck, her hair in his face.

And there it was, a blinding flash of white light, an explosion of heat in her belly, waves of almost pain as her cunt spasmed, clutching Krond's huge, hardened cock in sharp, fierce clenches as she screamed in ascendant glory. Her mind swam in pleasure, her mouth agape, fingers dug into Krond's shoulders so tightly she left marks. And before the waves of shattering orgasm subsided, he quickly lifted her off his cock, which drew another cry from her lips.

"Ahhhhh! Fuck!" Krond shouted as his slickened cock slipped from her cunt's pulsing grip. It hit his belly with a slap and exploded, a rope of white cum slinging itself across his chest. Then another. With each muscle spasm, his cock strained against its own skin and loosed still more ejaculate. Krond groaned as he held Cyrilla away from his gushing cock.

They both watched his seed pump out, then looked into each other's eyes. He had not cum inside her, as she had begged. He had listened to her, treated her with kindness and respect. She had asked him not to cum inside her and so he didn't. Bastigar's spell wouldn't be made permanent; Cyrilla could still be Cyril. Somehow. And yet, when their eyes locked, Cyrilla knew that not only could she not go back to Cyril's life, she did not want to. She wanted to be Cyrilla, to feel what Cyrilla felt. To be this woman, in this moment, forever.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly, before brushing her hair to one side and holding it in one hand. She leaned towards his chest, towards a long, pearly rope of semen that had splashed across his nipple and put her open mouth on it. She sucked and licked, slurping the still-hot cum into her mouth. She sucked his nipple clean, ran her tongue up his chest, gathered his semen into her mouth. It was salty, sweet, intoxicating. She swallowed it. She felt nothing. Nothing magical happened. She lapped up more, cleaning his belly and chest, her chin and lips sticky with drying fluid, swallowing every drop, while Krond's cock began to stiffen again as he watched.

She raised her head, and fixed him with a sex-drunk grin, "Thank you, Krond."

"Leave here with me. I want you with me. No one will hurt you again."

"They... someone... may come for me. They're powerful..."

"You are powerful, Cyrilla. You have magic."

Cyrilla looked down. "I don't know..."

"I do know. I see it. You are stronger than any man. Together, no one will defeat us."

"Together," she smiled.

"Let us go now, and leave this place. We will ride to the mountains, to my home."

Cyrilla had never seen mountains. She had never seen so many things. She forgot her fears, pushed her concerns from her mind; together, they would not be defeated.

"Take me there, Krond."

--

The end.