tagSci-Fi & FantasyThe Song of Roland Ch. 02

The Song of Roland Ch. 02

byHookedonPhoenix©

Roland held onto Kelsea's purplish hips tightly as he drove into her, their bareback dalliance eliciting screams from the lusty Succubus as he took her doggy style. The red-maned mercenary growled as he ploughed into her, leaning his hips back at the same time she drew forward, before brutally shoving himself forward, plunging the entirety of his length into her willing, supplicant body. Her face was in the dirt, rubbing hard against the ground as her long, prehensile tongue lolled out from it and licked the filthy ground.

"Ahn!" She cried out, "Harder! Harder!" He acquiesced, ramming himself tight against her with such force that her ass slapped loudly against his hips, their bodies making the music of sex as he used his strength to ram deep into her. His pace was immediate and all-encompassing, and the Succubus responded with an equally relentless assault from her insides: squeezing and rippling around his cock with near-inhuman levels of intensity. Unwilling to let the woman gain too much leverage over him, Roland pulled out, his wet cock making a loud schlicking sound and bouncing as it freed itself from Kelsea's pink, twitching prison.

Kelsea let out a tortured whine, jilling herself back against him, "No! More, more you dashboard!"

"I think you mean 'bastard.'" Roland replied, grunting in displeasure at Kelsea's strange fixation on not cursing. He hot-dogged her ample bottom, sliding his length up and dragging the skin of his sex across her two orifices. His balls connected with a wet slap against her clenching vagina, causing the Succubus to let out a yelp and shove against him again.


"C'mon, c'mon!" She said, an eager-beaver for him to fuck her beaver. She twisted her hips upwards, giving him an ideal angle to shove within her. Her tail curled protectively around his waist, gently tugging at his body as her breasts squashed against the ground. "You're an awful tease." She groaned.

"No, I'm a clever man who knows you'd like this more, ya fervent whore." Roland grabbed his girth, pointing it and pressing against the wrinkled, winking asshole that sat above her dripping vagina. With a rough press he sank himself into her rectum, pressing deep in a thrust nearly down to his base. Kelsea's back arched as she lifted herself off the ground, her coitus interrupted by the sudden, unexpected sensation that jolted up her spine.

"Oh Gods!" She howled, "H-how did you kno-Ooooh!" Instead of retreating from the intrusion, she shivered and shoved back against it, pressing her soft, cushiony ass tight against his muscled abs in blatant entreaty. Roland could feel her hips moving, making micro-movements across his skin as her over-heated body scraped against his own. He grabbed her tail and yanked it, causing her to cry out again. "You're a beast!" She screamed, letting loose a spray of tainted girlcum onto his legs and the ground. "Don't stop!"

He stood off the ground, giving himself an even steeper angle to drive down into her. Stepping over to either side of her legs and adopting a rough bulldog position. In response Kelsea closed her legs together and squeezed her thighs tight, creating an even tighter confine in which to ravish her. She couldn't hold herself up and fell back down onto the ground, drooling in unholy pleasure. Roland pounded against her, her asscheeks clenching as several small orgasms ripped themselves across her body. Roland clocked her rear hard with an open palm, causing small quakes to ripple across her skin as she screamed in pleasure. His other hand removed itself from its tight, intimate grip against her flanks and drew a nails-on-chalkboard line down her back, marking her as his own property. The feminine curve of her spine trembled as he did it.


Once he felt a pressure building in his prostate, Roland let out a growl and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Kelsea's prone body and pulling it up, forcing her to lift her back up into his body, pressing tightly against his chest. She tilted her head back, her reddish eyes connecting with his as he finished the last short, strong thrusts and began to ejaculate. She opened her mouth and gasped as she saw his brow furrow and his breathing shorten. Casually, a purple hand reached back and pulled his head down onto her shoulder; she clumsily laid a wet kiss on the side of his head, getting some of his red hair in her mouth as she licked at him.

"Ahn!" She squealed, her hips pressing back against him as he humped against her. He let loose a blast into her insides, coating her ass with his cum and sending her into her own, bone-shaking orgasm. Her tail thrashed madly as it became untamably overstimulated. They held themselves there for several seconds, alone in the woods just off the path to their next destination. Roland continued to clutch her, keeping her artificially warm body pressed tight against him until at last he reluctantly pulled free, scootching back with his knees and allowing him to see her well-worn bottom and soaked inner thighs, a large trickle of cum leaking out of her abused hole.

"Yikes..." Kelsea said, her hand unconsciously moving to her rear and swiping a bit of the leaking fluid. She licked her fingers. "You never disappoint, do you?"

Roland, his needs sated, began to reach for his armor, mirroring their earlier affair the previous afternoon. "I have, in the past. Now I'm more used to it." He smacked her bare bottom again, sending shivers up the coy Succubus' spine, "Not that you're too hard to figure out. Pretty sure a micro-penis could get your juices flowing."

"Now that you mention it..." Kelsea said, licking her lips and chuckling. "I enjoy sex of all kinds! What's the deal with making a distinction between who you do it with?"

"True enough." The mercenary said, pulling his pants up and beginning to strap on his armor, "Hence why you're here."

She giggled, "I like to think I'm better than the average streetwalker. Sure I can't interest you in another go?"

"No." The merc said, pulling on his chainmail shirt and strapping the leather cuffs to his armor. "We've got some traveling to do, yet. We're near three days distant from the next town, and those gold pieces I fished from you and the village aren't gonna last long. I need the work."

"We need the work." She retorted, standing up and curling her tail around her leg. "I'm coming with you, remember?"

Roland let out a brusque chortle. "Was wondering if you were really serious about that. And what do you think my chances are of getting work with a demon trailing along behind me?"

She closed her eyes, whispering something on the edge of hearing. Roland could tell the song-like sound of a spell being cast. He instinctively reached for his sword, expecting traditional demonic mind-rapery. Instead, the purplish hue of the Demoness began to fade. Her horns receded into her skull and her hair shortened, becoming a small crop of black hair atop her head. Her physical assets shrank as well, her tail disappearing into her back as though it were being eaten. Her face softened and became more humanlike, youthful and unblemished. When her eyes opened, normal, bluish orbs gazed back at him. "Will that do?" She said, her voice remained thick and syrupy like a Succubus.

He shrugged, "Still naked. And now I gotta explain why I got a tagalong."

"I'm your daughter." She said, flashing him a lusty grin. "You bedded a prostitute and took me in while I was a babe. Now I follow you to learn the tools of the trade."

"And I bed you every now and again, yeah? Preferably while some poor tavern wench listens through the door?" Roland blew contemptuous air out of his lips. "You demons can never make anything that ain't spoiled, can you?"

She curled a finger, beckoning him closer with her more native looking nudity, "I'll call you 'daddy' if you'd like."

"-I'll cut your head off, most like." He retorted, strapping his weapon belt around his waist. "I got some extra clothes in my pack. Prolly wont fit a wee thing like you, but it'll have to do till we get to the next town. Put it on."

"I love it when you make me play dress up." She teased, pumping her hips out to display her swaying rear as she fished through his pack. She pulled on a too-large shirt and a set of baggy slacks, keeping her feet bare once she realized he had no extras. "Don't I just look a sight?" She said, lifting her shirt and baring her midriff, displaying her soft ribline and belly button. "I can still feel the claw-marks on my back, you know."

"We just humped like a pair of cattle in the fields and you still want more?" The merc shook his head, brushing past her to lift his pack onto his shoulders. "What kind of madness has taken me, that I take a hussy with a skin disease for a traveling comrade?" As he strode past her, a hand reached out and took his wrist. He stopped, turning to look at her surprisingly human-like expression. "What do you want?"

"A kiss." She said, leaning up and plumping her lips. "For good luck." He laughed, pulling out of her grip and stepping past her. He didn't see the strange expression that built upon her face before she moved to follow him.

They trekked westwards, following the forest trail and moving out into the greater plains of the local city-states. They sidled past farms, the rough-cut mercenary trudging ahead with his female companion trailing along behind by a wide margin. They said little in the days that followed, their campfire discussions based solely around whether or not Roland was in the mood (he wasn't) and whether or not she could share his bedroll at night (she couldn't.)

At last they came to a town, near the outskirts of a major city. After purchasing more appropriate clothing and supplies for his unsought cohort, the two took a new contract, one from the local lord. "A ghost has settled into a family mausoleum, makin' it impossible to visit their dearly departed." Roland explained to the uninformed Demoness as they walked through the local graveyard, stopping short in front of a large, tomb-like complex.

"I wish you'd let me talk with the lord, too." Kelsea pouted, "His son looked cute, training outside in the courtyard."

Ignoring her, Roland carefully peeled his sword out of its scabbard and reached for something in one of his belt pockets. "I'm gonna have to kill it."

"With what? Your words?" She said, "Even I know a ghost is incorporeal."

"Concentrated ectoplasm." The mercenary replied, kneeling and gently rubbing at his notched blade with a small, damp cloth. After a few careful strokes, the edge began to shine with a pale glow. "Slay em with their own juices."

"... Is that a come-on?" She asked, her voice dripping with innuendo.

Roland laughed, genuinely this time. "Next time a demon dies of sex, you let me know, yeah? That's like watching a fish drown. Now stay here, I won't be more'n a minute."

Stepping through the desiccated halls of the dead, Roland spotted the ghostly, pale reflection of a half-formed face in the distance. He stalked forward, brandishing his sword boldly and swinging hard for the thing's white, incorporeal body. The thing turned, its inscrutable expression widening and emitting a loud screech. Roland grimaced and fell to his knees, the sound shattering against his ear drums and making it impossible to keep his balance.

"Fucking incorporeal gobshite!" He shouted, his ears ringing and his body swaying as the creature advanced upon him. The little lord of the manor hadn't mentioned that his ghost was a banshee. It flew forward, shrieking in its impossibly high tone and sending Roland's teeth to rattling in his skull. He tried to lift his blade but found his body unable or unwilling to respond to his commands. The ghost raked its unsubstantial claws across his face, causing a deep gash to sear into his skin; by sheer luck the warrior staggered back, avoiding the second upswing of its hand as it moved to gut him. Tripping back on his heels, Roland avoided the next blow and stumbled to the ground, rolling quickly as the thing shouted in its unearthly voice again.

"Hey!" He heard the Demoness' voice shout from down the hall of the tomb. The thing shifted its attention momentarily, a ball of balefire slapping upon its shoulder as the young Succubus tried to cast a spell upon it. The banshee merely shrugged it off, its mouth opening again and belting out another cry. Roland, gritting his teeth, dragged his blade upwards and slashed into the thing's immaterial, cutting its form in two like a knife to paper. The banshee screamed, its essence fading away in seconds as the power that kept it in this world dissipated. Roland let out a pained sigh and staggered to his feet.

"Gods, that was close." Kelsea said behind him, stepping forward. Her spell had reverted her back to her natural state, her purple skin stretching over the tighter traveling clothes she now wore as her tail swayed out from behind her shirt.

"It's not over. Banshee's don't die like normal undead." The mercenary wiped a hand across his face, feeling the red splash of blood across his cheek. "I told you to wait outside."

"For all the good that would have done you!" She said, moving close and touching his face. "I know you like it rough, but geez." Shaking her off, he stepped toward where he had last seen the apparition.

"Pipe down for a minute. This thing's still around." He stepped around, coming to the foot of a large stone cadaver tomb with a stone effigy of a armor-shrouded knight atop it, looking scornfully prim with his sword in his hand and his eyes closed. Atop the dais next to the effigy's elbow sat a small, open locket within which sat a painted image of two people: a young man and woman on opposite sides of the casing. "Of course." He muttered, smashing the thing hard with the pommel of his sword. It cracked and broke, splitting into pieces of shattered fragment. "Some stupid fool left a hook to draw the ghost in; probably this old corpse's love."

A loud scream echoed up the hallway, and Roland spun around, spotting the reforming Banshee rise up from the other side of the room and charge, straight at the Demoness. Kelsea cast another spell that sent blue rivulets of flame at the thing, which did nothing to slow her down. "Oh shnikes." She whispered, her back scrunching as she tried to shy away from the oncoming blow. In a blur Roland shoved her out of the way, pushing her roughly to the ground against the wall as he stepped forward, jabbing with his sword at the reconstituted spectre. It spitted itself atop his blade, the haunted claws coming within inches of his face as it screeched a death-cry. This time, when it dissipated, it looked more like it was melting, the ectoplasm of its form sagging and drooping to the ground. Some of it wicked onto the Succubus' skin and she brushed it off.

"Gross!" She exclaimed, wiping at the sticky substance.

"It's colder than an a Witch's teat, yeah?" Roland said, chuckling and sheathing his sword. He offered his hand, and she took it from him, lifting herself up off the ground.

"Worse," She said, "At least that would be fun to fondle." She wiped hurriedly against her pant leg. "This is just..."

"Don't get too worked up, now." Roland said, "You're gonna have to get used to these kinda things if you're really planning on taggin' along. Speaking of which, lesson one: ghosts and undead don't give a wicks care for magic. Straight steel is always a safer bet."


"I don't have a blade." She said. Unthinkingly Roland drew his second dagger from the back of his boot and handed it to her.

"You do now. Anytime your parlor tricks don't work, keep that handy." He roughly rubbed against his cut cheek, grimacing at the sharp pain it induced. "It might just save your purple arse."

Without speaking Kelsea reached over, pushing Roland up against the wall of the tomb. She whispered in a low voice, casting yet another spell. Unbidden she roughly kissed the wound, licking and slurping with her long tongue all across the length of the injury. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt, instead leaving a simple tingle on his face. "What are you-" He said, but she pulled back, licking her lips of the stray droplets of blood that had gotten onto her. She gave a sly grin.

"Feel your face." She said, keeping uncomfortably close to him as he did. The back of his hand streaked across the side of his face, an unblemished, empty space where a wound had been. Her smile deepened. "Cost me a bit of 'fluid' if you catch my drift. Care to top a girl off again?"

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