Sune's Chosen Ch. 03

"Oh, let the lad come," Anliva said in her gruff voice. Lura realized that her friends had stopped to watch the interaction. Except Miria, who was eyeing the Sundabar Gate impatiently. Lura looked up to the spires of Lady Alustriel's palace, then to Mikhail.

"Fine, but don't slow us down," she said sternly. "And stop calling me 'Lady.' I don't like it."

"Then what would you have me call you?" Mikhail asked. He fell into step as they began again toward the eastern gate.

"Lura," she said, pulling a strand of her red-tinged hair from her face.

"No title?" he asked, confused.

"I've done nothing to earn one," she said. "Well, actually, you could call me harlot, because apparently that's what we are."

"If so, then we're the best damned harlots in the Silver Marches," Shanara said over her shoulder.

"Seconded," Cyra added, winking over her shoulder.

Before long they approached the Sundabar Gate and were halted by the guards. "What business?" one asked.

"We're the Sunites that just got evicted from the city," Miria said. "I don't believe a further explanation is needed."

"Ah, that," the guard said. "You are Gundor the Hammer, are you not?"

"I am," the barbarian said. He had remained quiet most of the walk out of the city.

"I am Torden, Clan of the Axe. It is a pity to see you dishonored so," the guard said.

"I assure you my honor remains intact," Hammer said. "I have only been mistreated, but things will be put aright, I assure you."

"A good thing," Torden replied, clasping Hammer's forearm. "I will welcome your return. A safe journey to you all."

With that, the seven left the Gem of the North behind, sticking to the well-traveled road before them as it curved southward, toward Everlund. A tenday or more would pass before they saw any hint of civilization, and they rested only when they had to. The threat of bandits, highwaymen, and other wicked monsters pervaded as they traveled south, the Nether Mountains to the east and the River Rauvin west. On their third day, they stumbled upon that danger.

"Let me go!" the girl cried loudly. A loud smack followed swiftly thereafter.

"Highwaymen," Lura whispered to Cyra. The tiefling was adept at sneaking and scouting. Before her life in the Dancing Rose, she had been a thief-for-hire. "Let's get the rest."

"We can take them," Cyra whispered quickly. "There's only five of them."

"Hammer would never forgive us," Lura muttered. "Nor would Anliva."

"Hammer would forget as soon as Shanara started flirting with him again, and Anliva...well, she'd have to get over it," Cyra reasoned.

"What, was she too rough on you last time you had to make up for something?" Lura asked.

"Fine, but we have to be quick. Doesn't look like that girl or her comrades have much time left. By the bulge in that one's pants, I'd say she's in for a rape," Cyra said.

"Point made. How do you want to handle it?"

"Follow my lead," she said, untying her leather corset a bit to loosen her well-rounded breasts. She slid her daggers around to the back of her belt, and walked out onto the open path.

Lura was dressed in her usual gauzy skirt and tunic that hugged her curves, but shucked her sword belt to the ground and let her luxuriant mane of red-tinged white hair flow freely about her back and shoulders. Both females walked with swaying hips as Cyra called out to the highwaymen.

"Well, well," the tiefling said loudly, instantly drawing the attention of all five highwaymen. "What have we here, lovely?"

"Looks like some fun," Lura purred, putting her arm around the tiefling. For the moment, the girl was forgotten, and she slipped away unnoticed.

"Hold it there," a well-dressed highwayman said, pointing a rapier at the ruddy-skinned tiefling. She grinned a challenge at him, her short, pointed incisors poking against her lower lip. "What ya want?"

"Why, some entertainment and companionship," Cyra said, taking a step forward and pulling Lura with her. "You think that you and your boys could handle us?"

Some of the men muttered things to their leader, but he silenced them with a growled command. "Things are not as they seem," Lura whispered. Her lips did not even move.

"That a no?" Cyra asked. As if on cue, the face of the "human" began to elongate into a canine snout. All around him, his fellows underwent a similar transformation, all growing taller, sprouting fur and canine maws. A series of yelps followed and the five gnolls charged. "Yeah, I didn't think so either," Cyra muttered, drawing her two long daggers from behind her.

"You knew this would happen," Lura said as she separated herself from the tiefling.

"Maybe, where's your sword?"

"In the grass, I don't need it for gnolls," she said. Lura began to sing, her voice melodic and harsh at the same time. Their foreheads glowed a dim blue, and things seemed to slow around them. To the gnolls, though, Cyra's first attacks, a duck under wildly swinging arms and two stabs to the attacking gnoll's kidneys, were lightning fast. The gnoll fell to the ground and she finished it with a stomp on the back of it's skull, her thick heels crushing the bone and brain within.

Lura finished her song and reached into her magical repertoire. She thrust her hand out at a charging dog-man and five bolts of energy erupted from her hand, soaring unerringly for the gnoll. They connected, the force of the attack knocking the gnoll onto its back and the magical energy searing deep into his chest cavity, stopping his heart. The drow used her innate ability and summoned a globe of darkness around herself, then stepped out the back, darting for the grass. Her magically enhanced speed had her back to the globe of darkness, sword in hand, at the same time the gnoll emerged from the back. She slide the blade through the top of the bull rushing gnoll's skull, all the way down the neck and into its torso before removing it.

Cyra had dispatched another gnoll by ducking another clumsy attack, circling around behind, and driving her daggers to the hilt into the gnoll's spine. It died instantly. The fifth gnoll looked panicked as the globe of darkness disappeared and the two femme fatales zeroed in on it.

"Tempus!" Hammer roared. A blacksmithing hammer soared through the air, between the women, and slammed into the gnoll's head. Its skull caved in and it fell to the ground, quite dead.

"Sune abhors violence," Anvila said angrily, punching Hammer in the gut. He was unfazed. "And Tempus for his warlike behavior."

"Violence is some times needed to resolve problems," Miria said, walking brusquely between the dwarf and the man, Shanara in tow. The human woman stopped and put her hand around Hammer's bicep affectionately. Of the seven, she was the only that did not have an extensive profession suited for adventuring. Before coming into the service of Sune, Shanara had been a librarian, translating ancient texts with her masterful linguistic skills. Mikhail came last, holding his short sword at the ready, eyes wide as he looked around in circles.

"Relax, laddy," Anliva said, putting a strong hand on his sword and pushing it down. "Trouble's gone now, eh ladies?"

"Aye," Cyra said, wiping her daggers clean on the torn tunic of a dead gnoll.

Miria strode forward and stopped in front of the grinning drow and tiefling. "What were you two thinking? You could have been killed!"

"We weren't," Cyra said, her grin diminishing. "There were only five of them."

"And two of you!" Miria shouted, eyes wide.

"Clearly you underestimate the might of the drow," Lura said, growing angry. "That is a mistake few make more than once."

"In case you forgot, there are only one of you, drow," Miria spat.

"Two," Cyra said, standing closer to Lura. "She's my sister. So are you, in case I have my facts wrong." That settled the paladin down some.

"My apologies," she said, backing away. "We've just lost so much, I did not want to lose more."

"Glad to see you still care," Lura said. The drow turned away abruptly and approached the girl who was hiding inside her wagon. Lura walked around behind the wagon, to the opening, and threw the flap open. The girl, a boy probably no more than 12 years old, a middle-aged man and woman, and an elderly man gasped at the site of the drow. Cyra's sudden appearance at her side did not ease their trepidation.

"Are any of you hurt?" Lura asked in slightly accented Common. They shook their heads silently "no." "Come here," Lura said to the girl. "How old are you?"

"Two decades in a tenday," she said sheepishly.

"Are you ok?" Cyra asked, putting her head gently to the girl's face. She brushed a dirty blonde lock of hair from her face, then removed a smudge of dirt with her thumb. Her face was slightly plumped, but not fat, and she had the figure of a well-rounded farm girl. Bounteous breasts, full swell of hips, and a slight belly. She was quite pretty, Cyra decided after appraising her with her expert eye.

"They hit me a few times, but none the worse fer wear," she said in a country accent. "They took the lot of our grain and the like, though."

"Anliva," Lura shouted. The dwarf trotted over. "Get with the older man, find out what they lost, where they're going, that kind of thing."

"Right," the dwarf cleric said.

"Is there anything I can do," Mikhail asked, sounding sheepish.

"No," Lura said, but bit her tongue and thought a moment. Sun was setting. "Actually, get a fire going. Prepare our rations and whatever else these people have brought to eat."

"Right away," he said, his face brightening.

"Men," Cyra said. "Easy to please." She grinned at the girl, who smiled back weakly. "What's your name, girl?"

"Ana," she said. "Ana Orsen."

"Well, Ana Orsen, why don't you come with Lura and me, and we'll all settle down together for the night, sound good?" Cyra asked, smiling kindly

"Y-yeah," she said, looking at the drow with trepidation.

"Relax," Lura said in a honey-sweet voice. "I won't bite. Too hard."

*****

Lura's hand was covered in her own nectar. Night had fallen fast, and Cyra had led the human girl well away from the wagon and the camp fire Mikhail had set. Instead, the three women sat around a dimly burning pile of wood, accompanied by the intoxicating vapors of incense, and the simmering pipe that Cyra had left sitting, still packed with Dreamdust, between two incense censers. The human woman had joined Cyra in breathing in the narcotic vapors, both naked.

As Ana had closed her eyes, taking a particularly deep breath, Cyra latched her lips around the human girl's large breast, sucking greedily on the stiff pink nipple. Ana had responded immediately, her hands digging into the pale hair on Cyra's head. Now, the human had a firm grip on Cyra's petite horns as the tiefling plunged her tongue in and out of the human girl's thick, and copiously aromatic sex, licking frantically to lap up all of her juices. Ana could feel the smoldering heat of Cyra's mouth, even as it pressed firmly against her steaming sex.

Lura, for her part, stayed out of all the fun, feeling more inclined to watch and pleasure herself as the tiefling tamed the woman's cunny. Ana's lusty moans filled the air as pervasively as the narcotic vapors of the ritual incense that was burning before Lura. She was naked, leaning against a tree so that the thick bark scraped pleasantly against her back. The drow's fingers were rubbing tight circles around the stiff bud of her clitoris as she simultaneously pinched and rolled her obsidian nipples.

Ana climaxed on Cyra's face. The tiefling felt Ana's pussy clenching around her long, sinewy tongue, and grinned wickedly. Acting quickly, she pulled herself from the heady aroma of the human's nexus, and mastered the girl by flipping her onto her stomach, then lifting her onto all fours. The human was facing Lura, hunger in her eyes as the drow, playing into Cyra's game, spread her legs lewdly and squatted down, spreading open the lips of her pussy wide for the human girl to gaze upon.

Cyra reached over to the small wooden box she carried with her at all times and opened it. It had room to carry the incense for communion with Sune and Sharess, a compartment for her own blend of fragrant, sometimes hallucinogenic herbs, and a small wooden vial with an everfull enchantment. It was at all times filled with walnut oil, and she took the vial and opened it, pouring a plentiful amount on the pale, broad bottom that Ana was blessed with.

Ana gasped as she felt the warming liquid trail down the musky valley of her bottom, over her tightened rosebud and into the honey pot of her sex. She felt the heat of Cyra's fingers slide down her crevasse, massage her rosebud loose, then move to fill her sex with one, then two fingers.

"Relax, girl," Cyra said with a throaty voice. "You're gonna love this."

Lura nodded excitedly as she buried three of her long, dexterous fingers into her seeping sex, grinding her palm against her sensitive pearl. Ana watched with excitement, then felt Cyra's fingers, pressed together in a cone, probing at her sex. She relaxed as best she could, but the oiled hand was broader than she had anticipated. Still, the walnut oil, also enchanted, did its job, and her sex, though almost uncomfortably stretched, accommodated Cyra's hand as it sank to the wrist.

Ana almost climaxed then and there, but something was missing, even as the pads of Cyra's fingers molested the sensitive walls of her canal. Then, a ruddy, oily finger slipped into her anus, and her world imploded in a haze of violent, earthshaking orgasm.

Lura closed her eyes, listening to the wails of orgasm and pleasure coming from Ana and rubbing herself furiously, seeking yet another orgasm. Then all sound fell away. She opened her eyes, alarmed for a moment, and saw a figure, feminine and swaying seductively, walking toward her. Lura knew she was in the same place, but the incense, the dim fire, and the two fucking women were gone.

In a blaze of red glory, the figure was directly in front of her, and Lura could smell the purest, sweetest scent of feminine musk. She looked into blazing eyes, pale-skinned face, and wildly flowing mane of red hair. In her heart, and her loins, she knew who this person was, but she could not voice it. She feared to utter the name, as if to do so would send this visage spiraling away into oblivion. Instead, the woman leaned forward and sank her tongue into Lura's waiting, compliant mouth, and wrapping her long, elegant arms around the drow's strong, vivacious form.

Lura felt a sense of falling, then of gently settling onto soft grass. She realized that the pale legs of this divine woman were wrapped around her, and that her sex was grinding with maddening pleasure against her own. Seizing the opportunity, falling into the passion, Lura reached out and locked her lips with the woman, clasping one delicate, pale shoulder with one hand and with the other molesting an exposed, freely swaying breast, larger than Lura's own, with a rigid red nipple for her fingers to pinch and twist. The woman moaned in her mouth, and they began to buck their hips together furiously, their sexes crashing together with wet, slick noises.

"Say my name!" the woman shouted, breaking the kiss and staring Lura in the eyes. The drow's voice caught in her throat.

"Say it! Now!"

"SUNE!" Lura cried out, and her orgasm took her by force. She felt her sex emit a strong fount of nectar, but it was overpowered as the woman, Sune, also took her orgasm.

Sune's sex, bare and spread lewdly, ushered forth a thick, viscous jet of cum that smelled like a woman's musk, but with the consistency of male semen. "By my sex you take my essence into your loins," she declared, her breath throaty and thick with arousal. She stood, leaving Lura sitting, rubbing herself, beneath her. Sune seemed to grow taller and began vigorously rubbing her clitoris with one perfect hand.

"By my sex you take my essence into your core," she cried, and another jet of her divine nectar erupted forth, coating Lura's face even as it found her mouth. Lura swallowed the sweet juice down, trying to get as much of it as she could, sparing not one drop.

"But by my heart, my passion, and my love, you are my Chosen Lover."

*****

"Lura!" Cyra shouted. The drow woke to the tiefling smacking her hard across the face.

"What?" Lura shouted. The sun had risen.

"You've been out for hours," Cyra said. "What happened to your hair, are you bleeding?"

Lura knew that she was not, and knew, instinctively, that the lone crimson streak that marked her now purely white hair was a mark from Sune herself. "I think we need to talk," Lura said, looking sheepishly to Ana.

*****

"Take more!" the man growled. Miria, tears streaking her face, tried to take in more of the man's foul-tasting member. He clearly had not bathed in a tenday. She loosened her throat and forced her face down. The elf got about half way, and the man, frustrated, grabbed her head and forced her nose into the thick tangle of pubic hair at the root of his cock.

"Good bitch," he said. "I knew when I found out you were a Sunite this would end well. After me, you can service my wife, and then the old man."

"We agreed," she said, pulling her mouth off the foul member, "that I would pleasure you, and you would give us supplies."

"True, but I have the knife, now, don't I?" the man said. He grinned, yellow teeth glaring down at her beneath sallow eyes. "Now get on your hands and knees. I'm gonna pump you full of my juice."

She swallowed her pride. She had to take care of her sisters and brother. For Sune. For the Fest Hall. Her duty was her passion, and she would fulfill that, even if it meant whoring herself out for supplies. Or anything else. She bent over, bracing herself on her hands as the man positioned himself behind her. He roughly pulled her leather breeches down, revealing her small, round ass.

The man poked around at her pussy until it was wet from his fingers, then sniffed loudly. "Smells like a whore," he said, grinning again. "Oh, but I'm gonna be leaving that little pussy alone. I want me some elf ass."

Miria bit her lip, brushed away tears of humiliation, and felt the man's member, slathered in spit and what juice he could get from her pussy, press against her anus. She loosened it as much as she could, trying to relax, but Miria felt only searing pain as his member tore into her ass. Without regard to her, he began pumping furiously, making loud slapping noises against her ass. Her breasts bounced back and forth painfully from within her tight tunic, but, to her dismay, her nipples were beginning to harden in arousal. The scraping of the stiff buds against her starchy blouse sent electrified sensations straight to her loins, and she felt herself getting wet. She almost wept to herself when she realized her body was enjoying the abuse.

Then her mind broke.

She was enjoying it. Being taken roughly by a stranger, even the thought of being paid a meager sum of supplies was in a strange way arousing to her. She felt cheapened, but at the same time excited. Sorrow mixed with pleasure. Miria, the once proud elven paladin, wanted to get off on this man's dick. But she would not, she realized, as she felt his hot seed burst into her ass. He spasmed a few times inside her, then pulled out. The man pulled his pants up and told her to get out. She straightened her clothing before any of her charges could see her, and wiped the tears away.

She had sacrificed her dignity, her sacred vows to Sune, for her brethren. For her, for now, that was enough.