The Ring of Perliss Ch. 01: Queened

Arden was far from done, however. He rolled her over onto her back beneath him and thrust down into her. "Yes!" she cried out, making no effort to be quiet. "Yes! Fuck me! Harder!"

I took her nipple in my mouth, sucking, teasing it with my tongue, my fingers brushing against her clit, bringing her to a second climax, and a third, before Arden finished with a loud grunt of brief, intense pleasure, and I could feel his cock pulsing along its length as he emptied his balls into Lela's cunt.

"Feeling better?" I asked her.

She laughed. "Much. Is it bad that I want more?"

"In that case," I said, "I'm going to the wagon. Otherwise I'll never get any sleep."

I dressed quickly, kissed them both, and left them to their coupling.

*

"That was an interesting medicine," Fenizir said when we stopped for lunch, "but effective."

When Arden and Lela had slept late after their eventful night, and I emerged from the wagon dressed and ready for the new day, it didn't take long for the others to piece together the truth.

"No one survives an encounter with the vine unscathed and unchanged," Fenizir had said loudly to the company. "Be kind to her."

Perhaps she heard it too, for she emerged soon after, her cheeks flushed with shame. Not daring to meet anyone's eyes, she ran to the wagon and hid herself within, and I thought it best to give her time.

Arden, of course, was equal parts embarrassed and thrilled. What man wouldn't be, to be sharing his tent with two young women on a long journey?

"Good morning, beloved," he said, pulling me close -

- but I avoided his kiss this time. "Lela is your beloved now," I told him. "She needs you more than I do."

Which was true enough, though no less hurtful to him. I would miss his cock, but not his kisses.

"I liked what you said this morning," I said to Fenizir.

"I've seen what this vine does," he murmured. "I feared a far worse outcome than this."

I brought some food to Lela, who had clearly spent the whole morning in tears. "Come outside," I said. "Eat. Let me see your leg properly in the sunlight."

After a few minutes of further cajoling, she dressed herself in day clothes and followed me outside. I examined the bumps and the black-veined skin, but could see no change from before.

"Why did you do that?" Lela asked abruptly. "Why did you give me to him?" She burst into fresh tears. "What must you all think of me?"

I shrugged. "That you are a young woman who has lost everything, and that if you keep on like this you may very well end up with a new husband and maybe something more." I prodded her in the belly. "Although I can give you something to prevent that..."

Her eyes went wide as her hands covered her belly protectively. She shook her head, and for the first time in days I saw the glimmer of a smile. "Thank you, Lia," she said earnestly. "For everything."

Three Witches

The summer sun was bright, but the wind was fierce and cool in the mountains, and there were times I wished for trousers instead of a skirt. For someone whose life until two weeks previously had been restricted to an unremarkable lowland village, the view across Denkhar from the high vales of the northern mountains was spectacular.

The vegetation grew sparse as we climbed higher, making slow but steady progress. The weather had been reasonably warm and dry, and the mountain streams had kept our supply of water fresh and frequently replenished.

Spirits were high, despite the loss of Corvis to the vine. Though Lela had lost both wagon and husband in that disaster, the horses had been recovered safely. Neither had suffered critical injury in the fall, and they had helped to share the load on the long road up to the mountain pass. Arden had found in Lela the adoring girlfriend that I could never be, and there was no doubting their mutual passion at night.

I myself missed being the object of Arden's passion at night, but was grateful too to have escaped his more romantic kisses and flirtation in the day. At night, I was growing adept at bringing myself to a climax with my fingers, but during the day, the tension built swiftly. I had, perhaps foolishly, yielded my claim on Arden's cock, but there were other men in the company who might do as well.

Not Vigo and Razir, however. I had several times spied on this lusty couple. A pair of battle-scarred brutes to look at, but in the dark of night, while all others slept, I had glimpsed Vigo kneel and make love to Razir with his mouth. Razir's cock had an astonishing length, and yet Vigo could swallow it whole and did so repeatedly.

"How do you do it?" I'd dared to ask him one day as we walked together. "How can you even breathe with that thing in your throat?"

Vigo had laughed loudly. "You can't!" he said. "In fact, it's best to breathe out first, and then it's a case of using every trick of mouth and throat to make him finish, until you have no choice but to pull away and catch your breath." Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, "If you want a man to love you truly, you must make him believe that you adore every detail of his cock and relish the taste of it."

Back when I was a man, when I was Orin, the thought of two men fucking would have disgusted me. As Lia, I found it oddly sweet and no more unnatural than my transformed self, although I would have preferred to participate in this sweetness rather than merely watch from a distance. Not once had Arden offered his cock to my mouth, and I found myself wishing he had.

Fenizir frowned whenever Vigo or Razir showed affection for each other, which was rare during the day. "In Saruz," Vigo said, "no one bats an eyelid if two men declare their love. By the Accords of Veshla and Minarwe, there is greater honour in an honest man than in all tradition's robes and rituals."

I laughed. "There's a coin with two sides." Veshla's honesty was in open words and promises kept; Minarwe's honesty was in the balance of passion and payment.

"A coin with two heads, more like," Vigo said, and winked suggestively.

*

A fog descended on our camp that night. As high as we were, this was not unusual, but this was no natural fog. Laughter woke me. The laughter of women, but the voices writhed with whispering sibilance and fractured like winter's ice. They spoke words I knew, or almost knew. Words that Old Mother Baria would have known, for they were words of witchcraft and the voices that spoke them were ancient beyond measure.

I slipped out from my bed in the wagon. The fire that should have been embers burned with a bright, cold flame, and the guards that should have watched slept beneath a spidery veil of frost. Three dark figures in threadbare cloaks danced a circle about a kneeling and naked man. By his hair and by the visible length of erect cock, I took him for Razir, but as I crept closer, I saw that it was Fenizir.

I saw too that the pale fingers and white faces of the three witches were bone, not flesh, and as one reached out to touch Fenizir's jutting shaft, he cried out in dismay. His cum spurted out - and shattered against the icy ground.

No, he wasn't Razir, for Razir was one of the guards that slept. Carefully, quietly, I pulled his sword from its sheath, the handle bitterly cold. A witch caressed Fenizir 's nipples, making them swell between her skeletal fingers. Fenizir screamed denial as he climaxed a second time, an even greater quantity of cum launching out from his dancing cock. I was close enough to see the thick ropes of cream freeze mid-air before smashing against the ice-clad rocks.

The chanting was making me dizzy. It took all my strength to stay awake, to lift the sword at all, to bring it crashing down on the cloaked figure before me. I -

The night shattered into terrifying screams, mine amongst them. Perhaps they were all mine, because I was still screaming an age later when a hand covered my mouth to muffle their sound, and other hands wrenched my own hands from my ears. "Lia," he shouted. "It's over! They're gone!"

Somehow I stopped. Somehow I held it in and opened my eyes. To see Fenizir, a blanket about him, staring at me in fright. To see Vigo with his hand over my mouth, Razir holding my hands, Arden throwing branches onto the fire, and all the others staring in bewilderment.

The ice on the ground was thawing, and of the witches there was no sign, save for the ragged heap of a dark cloak. "They're gone," Fenizir repeated, calmer now, and gradually my heart slowed, and the urge to scream diminished. "They're gone," he soothed.

I nodded.

My hands were released. My mouth too. My knees hurt, for I had fallen to them after striking the witch. Such pure, cold hatred I had felt in that shattering instant. I had killed nothing, because the witch was long dead, but something of her, more than memory but less than life, lingered still in her bones.

Bones that were gone - from the camp, at least. Somewhere nearby, I had no doubt, there was a burial site that we might find if we dared to search.

Slowly the merchants drifted back to their tents, staring fearfully into the impenetrable shadows beyond the circle of firelight. Not the guards, though, who mounted a common watch, their backs to the fire for warmth. Lela hugged Arden tightly, not daring to leave his side. "You saw them," she said to me, more accusation than question. "What were they?"

With the melting of the ice, Fenizir's pearlescent cum could be seen spattered across the rocky ground. I glanced at the blanket he help wrapped tight about him and saw the distinct impression of his still erect cock. "Ghosts," I said. "Only ghosts."

Not that I was knowledgeable about such things, but I did have one area of expertise. "I should check that you're not injured," I said to Fenizir. "Come into the wagon with me."

He flushed bright red, and I had never seen him embarrassed before. "There is something you could help me with," he said.

We both stood, but struck by a sudden caution, I lifted the witch's cloak, intending to throw it on the fire. A book fell from the pocket. A small book, ancient and worn, with a leather cover and parchment for pages. I considered throwing it into the flames along with the cloak, but the tingling of magical mischief was too seductive.

*

"Don't take this the wrong way," he said. "I'm grateful you stopped them. You may have saved my life. All our lives. But how is it you weren't affected? The others fell under a spell of sleep, and I -"

He let his blanket fall. "I was helpless. I couldn't move. As if my flesh were ice, and yet aflame with desire."

Fenizir's beautifully long cock was rigid and throbbing visibly, precum dripping from the soft, bulbous head. His nipples too were swollen, and huge like a woman's. Bigger than mine. "I know some words of witchcraft," I said, and when Fenizir's eyes widened in alarm, I added quickly, "for making medicines. Only that. I'm no witch."

He nodded warily. "Have you medicine for this?"

We were alone in the wagon where I made my bed. There was no one to see as I knelt before him, touching his hard cock with fingertips as if to inspect it. "Perhaps," I said, and did what I had seen Vigo do so sweetly.

Fenizir gave a startled sigh as I wrapped my lips about the shaft, the huge head filling my mouth, and filling my senses too. "If you want a man to love you truly," Vigo had whispered, "you must make him believe that you adore every detail of his cock and relish the taste of it."

I looked up into Fenizir's eyes and hummed with happiness. The taste of him was slightly salty, but not unpleasant. Unnatural as it was to use my mouth like this, the sense of power in it was a thrill. Fenizir had been helpless before the witches, and seemed just as helpless now as I sucked on his cock and teased him with my tongue.

"Oh, you are a witch to cast a spell like this," he said with a laugh, and tried instinctively to thrust deeper into my mouth.

I pulled back quickly, unprepared and a little alarmed. Seeing this intimate act and doing it were two very different things. "I've never done this before," I explained with a wry smile.

"Neither have I," he admitted, "although I have often wondered what it would be like."

Tentatively I resumed my licking and teasing of his cock, kissing the head and the long, smooth shaft, caressing his balls gently with my hand. I no longer had testicles myself, but I remembered how painful their mishandling was, and remembered too just where my own cock had been most sensitive. My cock had been nothing compared to Fenizir's, but I felt no envy about that; I preferred having none at all.

As my confidence built, so also Fenizir's sighs of pleasure deepened and his intermittent thrusting grew more urgent. Determined to master this delightful art, I breathed out and allowed the soft, thick head to press into my throat - and despite having witnessed Vigo's skillful engulfing of Razir's cock, I was surprised to find it was possible for my throat to encompass such a large intruder.

I made the mistake of trying to breathe, and pulled away sharply, choking and coughing - and, after a minute, laughing too as Fenizir stared down at me anxiously. "Let me try that again," I said with a grin, and soon had his cock in my throat again, taking more of it with each attempt, and for longer too.

I loved how gentle he was being when I could sense the impatient hunger within. His hands grabbed restlessly at my head, encouraging me to take more of him, to take all of him, until my nose was pressed against his belly. "Oh, this is witchcraft indeed," he said, and suddenly his cock stiffened, and kicked, hurling stream after stream of cum into my belly as he moaned in blissful release, his grip on my head fierce and denying my need for air.

I wrenched myself off him, only for his cock to spit cum across my face instead as I sat gasping. He made no effort to direct it elsewhere, so that a last few feeble spurts splashed across my lips and chin, as I marvelled at the sheer quantity he had produced. I felt quite full from all I had swallowed, and still he was dripping more, though his cock was wilting at last.

"Thank you, Lia," he said, wrapping himself in the blanket again. "You are a skilled healer indeed."

I smiled up at him, wondering what my face must look like, all wet with his cum. I saw only affection in his eyes. "I may need to take another look tomorrow," I said.

He grinned. "I do hope so."

*

I dream I am Perliss, a young, dark-skinned man beneath me on the bed, his head trapped between my knees, my cunt pressed against his mouth. His tongue dances roughly but skilfully across my clit as I suck on his thick, hard cock.

His restless hips urge his cock deeper, and with consummate ease I take him into my throat, for I have done this a thousand times. My mouth adores the taste and texture of a passionate cock. Suddenly his muscular hands are holding my head firmly in place as the cock thrusts deep, fucking my throat as if my mouth were my cunt, while his tongue continues its delightful play across my clit.

I can't breathe, and cannot escape. My blood pounds in my ears as that cock rams into my face, and just when I can stand it no more -

*

I awoke with a mighty gasp, my heart hammering, my clit throbbing with a desperate need - and as I worked myself with my fingers to an intense and blissful climax, I knew I would soon be doing far more than merely sucking Fenizir's cock.

The Troll King

The witch's book was thickly inscribed with sketches of plants and diagrams of apparatuses, annotated with symbols that baffled the mind. One might seem to glow red, another blue. One conjured up the smell of aniseed, another the taste of lemon. One prickled at my senses like a cat's tongue, another had the cruelty of hawthorn. Here and there were words in some forgotten alphabet, but I heard them in my mind, that same language of witchcraft that I had learned from Old Mother Baria and had heard the three ghosts muttering.

What it all meant was a harder puzzle to solve, but it fascinated me all the same. From time to time as I walked, I would pause and return to some page in the book, struck by a sudden inspiration that connected a word with a thought with an intent. Like a child playing with a deadly weapon, I could see only the surface of its significance, but I understood that there was a dark and dangerous purpose lurking beneath.

The book was old, and should have faded and crumbled long ago. There was a tale I had once heard, so oft retold down the generations that it was more myth than history, that Queen Perliss herself, while still an adventuring princess in search of a destiny, had travelled far to consult with three ancient witches blessed with oracular vision.

The first witch, seeing only the past, told of the murder of Perliss's mother. The second witch, seeing only the present, told of her father's scheming to put her younger sister (with whom he shared an incestuous love) on the throne after his death. The third, seeing only the future, told of Perliss kneeling in honour before the goddess Veshla. Armed thus with knowledge, Perliss had knelt in Veshla's temple and received the goddesses blessing, and in time, at the head of a mighty army, had gone on to execute her father and banish her sister.

But perhaps it was more than myth, and perhaps it was those same three witches whose shades had cast a spell of extraordinary virility on Fenizir's cock.

The day after that terrifying experience, no sooner had the wagon train stopped at midday for a lunch break than Fenizir grabbed me by the arm and more or less forced me into the wagon where I slept at night. I was not unaware of the hard bulge in his trousers, and complained only at the roughness of his treatment of me, but his own distress was clear in his eyes.

"I need your help again," he pleaded, thrusting his trousers down hurriedly to reveal his rampant weapon. "I can hardly think beyond the aching need to feel your lips again."

While I was glad my lips seemed to inspire such devotion, I knew there was a cruel magic at work. And if I hadn't, I would have known for sure the moment I brought him to climax. Such was his desperate need, I had barely begun to enjoy the act itself, loving as before the sense of intimate power at having his long, beautiful cock between my teeth, when he finished with a muted cry that sounded as much like pain as pleasure.

I knew better than to pull away at this critical instant. I swallowed what I could of the flood of cum that burst into my mouth, but such was the volume, and so quickly delivered, that much of it escaped my lips and ran down my chin. Arden had never produced so much in one go; he had only ever finished in my cunt, but I would surely have noticed afterwards. As Orin I had certainly never produced so much in one go.

Fenizir's cock wilted at last, and he sighed with blissful relief. "Will you share my tent tonight, Lia?" he asked, the words polite and almost formal, but his expression revealed his fear that I would deny him.

"I will," I said, wiping his cum from my chin and knees. "But it had better not be just my mouth you're after."

Fenizir laughed. "Trust me. It won't be."

*

Midmorning, two days later, our wagon train reached the highest point of the pass, only to draw to an abrupt halt. There ahead of us was a wall of rough-hewn blocks of stone, stretching from the eastern cliff face to a tower on the western slope.

We studied it from a safe distance, aware that we too were being studied, and by figures too large to be merely men. "Trolls," Fenizir said, his tone making the word into a curse.

"I see only two of them," Arden said. "Perhaps we can fight our way through. It is daytime, after all, and trolls dislike the sun."

"It would take more than two to build such a wall," Fenizir replied after a moment's thought, "and we know nothing of what is beyond it." He sighed wearily. "At least now we know why this road has been so quiet."