The Tease


The floating islands were places of peace and sanctuary. Green grass grew on most of them, and a few even had trees. Rarer still were islands with waterfalls mysteriously gushing out of their crested centers, pouring down to the grasslands far below. Strange powers kept the islands defying gravity, holding them mysteriously aloft. The warlock never questioned it, never spent a lot of time thinking about it. She wasn't there for the scientific education of plots of land floating stationary in mid air, far above the creatures and peoples of the land beneath. She came for other things.

Sitting carefully on her knees, she straddled the thighs of the person in front of her. She didn't look directly into his face as she pulled the skirt of her dress up to her waist. Scooting forward, she spread her legs so that one knee was on either side of each of his hips. Without pause, she drew the dress up over her head and let it slide off her arms, then tossed it lightly to the side. It landed in a satiny heap at the base of this island's stunted tree. She smiled at her companion, tilting her head as she watched his face.

He was not looking at her with his eyes, for he had none. Where typically white orbs, coloured irises and small black pupils would have stared out, her friend had empty and dark hollows. They were black as the void, the abyss. The only way she knew he saw her was his reaction to what he saw as his face moved up and down. He pulled his lipless mouth into a smile, showing his jagged teeth, and she sighed pleasantly as he admired her nakedness. Like many undead, he was not rotten and decaying. That part of his undeath had ended long ago. To many of his people it was a curse, how they could not decay, how their bodies remained as they were at the very moment life left their body. Bloodless and broken, they were nigh on immortal. A piece might fall off, a limb mangled in battle or severed from overuse could be reattached with little difficulty and time. For anyone who knew the undead of this land, it could take getting used to.

She was used to it though. An elf by heritage, the young warlock saw the value in understanding and accepting the many cultures she came into contact with. Much of it was politically oriented; she couldn't expect to be an emissary or ambassador for her people if every new cultural practice or racial quirk startled or dismayed her. No matter how repugnant the process each race practiced in order to survive, she had long ago learned to calm herself and smile. Just smile. Even now, as the undead man beneath her licked his teeth with his shadowy tongue, she simply smiled at him, appreciating his appraisal.

The elven woman moved her hands to his shoulders, stroking him through his thick brocade robes. She trailed her hands down his arms, noting how his face continued to move up and down. Then she put her hands to his almost skeletal claws and encouraged him to touch her. As his cool thin-skinned fingers met with her warm pale white fleshy hips, she stiffened almost imperceptibly and closed her eyes slowly. She knew if she continued to smile, pressing her lips hard together secretly, she could control her flip-flopping stomach. She could proceed as far as she dared. As far as she wanted.

There was no denying that she enjoyed his touch, relished her position in his lap. As she drew his hands over her flat stomach and up her ribcage, she slowly dropped her head back. Her long platinum hair fell off of her shoulders and slid down her bare back until the tips were grazing his robes over his legs. His muscle-bare grip moved to curve around her perfect young breasts, her flesh filling his palms easily. He gave each breast a squeeze, and she gasped, her eyes popping open and looking above her into the canopy of the tree he was leaning against. One thick branch stretched out a foot above her. If she wanted to, she could reach up and hold it, use it to maneuver herself over his groin.

But that, she knew, she would not do. She was here on the good graces of her husband, a hunter of great power and strength. It was only because he understood her appetite for intrigue and politics that she was able to sit in another man's lap, naked, wanton even. Teasing him to arousal, but averse to giving him release.

She sighed and lowered her head, her long bangs framing her face in a shadow as her glowing green eyes looked down. His almost gnarled fingers were still clutching her breasts, the thin bony thumb of each hand grazing over her dark areolas until each nipple was stiff and erect. The air around them was warm but her body had broken out in goose flesh, and she trembled as if chilled. The elven woman licked her lips and put her hands behind her on the man's thin thighs. She gripped him and lifted her hips, gasping as he drew a finger down the line between her breasts to her navel.

I mustn't let him touch me intimately, she chided herself as her nether parts throbbed anxiously in anticipation. That sort of touch, his undead flesh against her sex, was outside of what her husband would allow her. Just before his trailing finger went too low, she pulled his hand slowly upwards and put his palm against her cheek. She smiled at him and then closed her eyes, leaning into his palm.

"You are ssso beautiful," he spoke with a hiss. His voice was deep and rumbling, full of the dark potency a true undead warlock wouldn't be able to hide. His powers surpassed hers greatly, and the shadowy energy of souls and death were evident like a misty black aura all about him. Again, it was something she put to the side for the purpose of being here with him this very day.

"Thank you, my lord," the elf answered, her own voice soft and sultry. Flirtatious, tempting. Alluring even.

There was no doubting that she enjoyed exactly where she was. The elven warlock had admired this undead man the moment he had walked by her on the streets of the capital city of the elves. Strolling casually wearing nothing but a lovely black evening gown and carrying a whip, she had been looking for some of her fighting companions. She'd had every intention of whipping the two men who had wisely hidden from her. She was feigning wrath and rage as part of their game of hide and seek. The whipping wouldn't have been anything they would have disliked; they were very close comrades, sharing everything. And their clever roguish trick of disappearing into shadows served only to heighten their hunger for the inevitable. But, as is true in most cities, a lovely lady left alone on a street in nothing but a sheer black gown and carrying a most finely crafted whip will not find herself left alone for long at all.

That was when she had met her present companion. Their attraction had been instant, chemical almost, and she wondered if she had known him in some past existence or dimension. As polite as she tried to keep her conversation with him, she found herself quickly drawing him to quiet corners and dark places, seeking time alone with him. The mandate her husband had set for her told her she might indulge in certain things but not others. So it was that she came to be sitting in this man's lap now, straddling his legs with not a stitch of clothing on. He caressed her cheek and she smiled at him shyly. He seemed to gasp as a red flush started along her chest and worked its way up her pale slender neck to redden her cheeks.

"You have given me much to look on this night," he whispered, pulling his hands away from her face and body. "I am like a hero looting the greatest treasures, hidden from me for years upon years and at last brought into the light."

His flattery made her blush again, and she purposely turned her face up to the tree leaves and branches above them. The elf woman arched her back, curving her body so her breasts pressed out. She could feel his wicked breath on her as he moved and adjusted himself. When he suddenly gripped both her wrists in his and began to bind them with rope tightly, she was caught completely off guard. His mouth was grinning at her now, and she did not move to pull her hands away, still confused. The elf had no idea what he could be doing; she had told him of how far she was allowed to go and he had accepted it. Where did ropes fall in that category? Maybe it excited him to see her bound. Would that make her faithless, to let him bind her hands? She was sure he would not hurt her, would not force her to take him.

"What...what are you doing?"

"I'm doing what I want. Is that not what you intended to let me do? Whatever I wanted?"

She squinted at him.

"To a degree, that is truth. But-"

He chuckled, cutting her words off.

"But nothing. I'm going to do what ever it is I wish."

He quickly tossed one end of the rope up over the branch above their heads, grabbing it when gravity brought it back down. Then he tugged the rope, hard, and she squealed as her body was hoisted up, her arms straining above her head. Before she could utter a single incantation, he was wrapping a bandage or binding of some sort of linen around her head, pressing it between her lips and teeth. She screamed but it only came out muffled and incoherent.

For a moment, he leaned back against the tree's thick trunk behind him, cackling. His laughter was wicked and evil, and the elf glared at him angrily. She snorted, her breath hard as she struggled against the ropes. Her wrists were already throbbing, her shoulder joints aching. She ceased her pointless struggles and stared at him, blinking. And slowly, a cold fear crept up from her womb to make her stomach freeze and her heart begin to race.

"You are wondering now, my dear, what exactly I intend to do with you," the undead warlock said. "I could sacrifice you to the Lord of Shadows perhaps. Eviscerate you while you still breathe. Lay you out on an altar of stone and use your living bowels to scry the future perhaps?"

She gulped hard, whimpering as he smiled viciously at her.

"No, I will not do anything such as these to you. What I intend, well, it is much more pleasssant. I do not think you will complain much."

The elf woman had no choice except to wait for him to act, to find out what horrendous fate he had in store for her.

"Of course," he said, slowly undoing his belt and loosening his robes, "with a gag in your mouth as such, how could you complain about anything?"

Her green eyes went to where his fingers were unfastening his clothing further, undoing the buttons that held his leggings closed. She began to shake her head 'no', suddenly very much aware of what he intended to do. Her action only made him laugh again, his cackle like a death rattle in her ears.

"Oh come now. I am not an ignorant young man like you surely are used to. You have flaunted yourself around your city, acting as if you are careless of your effect on the men around you. In truth, you know full well the arousal and desire you illicit in even the coldest among us."

His hands reached out and stroked the insides of her thighs, long deadly fingers trailing along the sensitive skin and making her moan in despair.

"And, I know you like it."

There was no denying it, not with a gag in her mouth. Had he placed it there to keep her from being able to cast the spells that would help her defend herself? Or had he done it to keep her from telling lies she was obligated to tell? Of course she enjoyed the attention of the men around her, how they drooled and ogled her. Just because she was recently married to a man with the physical strength to tear any of the young ambitious and eager males she found herself surrounded by to pieces with his bare hands, didn't mean she would stop calling them to her. She was a lady, true to this faction of the elven society of the land. And she enjoyed and reveled in the attention and pleasant flattery doled upon her in sweet sugary heaps. Truth, some of those around her she would let closer than just a few spoken compliments. She was not above stealing kisses in secret or letting a man whisper hot sweet clandestine stories against her ear and neck.

Though she often fantasized about taking such relationships further, she had never dared to in the past. Not merely out of respect for the sanctity of marriage; no, it would be a lie to say it was only to respect the authority and legality of her contract of matrimony that she did not give herself to another man completely. The truth of it was, she was quite in love with her husband. Other men might be able to stir her emotions, her flesh, cause her to tremble or to hunger. Her husband, though, completed her in every way. And when he had given his permission for her to continue her intimate little escapades to at least some degree, she couldn't have loved him more than that exact moment.

She had never intended to find herself in this particular position though. She groaned as the undead warlock's fingers dragged over her naked hairless mons, her eyes squeezing shut as he lowered his fingers, tickling over her quickly swelling folds. He stopped and she opened her eyes quickly.

"You want more, do you not? You have wanted this as much as I have, since we first met. You are not any more ssssatisfied with ssstolen kisses than I am." His grin was confident, his voice soothing as he began to expose himself to her. She told herself she would look only at his face, barring that she would look away, or close her eyes. But soon she found herself looking down, her gaze drawn to where his hands slowly stroked and manipulated his penis.

His cock was as grey coloured as the rest of him, and his groin was as hairless as his skull-like scalp. There was no decay and she breathed a sigh of relief at that, causing him to chuckle as he mistook her sound for a sigh of lust.

"Mmm? You like what you sssee? I knew you would."

He reached out with one of his hands, reaching around her body and gripping one of her rounded buttocks. His fingers dug in almost painfully as he drew her body forward. The tension on the rope, which disappeared underneath and behind him somewhere, made it so her arms were long above her head but her knees were still just barely resting on the ground. As he pulled her towards him, her body tilted almost lewdly and her legs spread around his hips. He did not look up as he watched himself teasing the head of his cock against her sex. Her juices were flowing and she began to weep, more in shame than anything else. She had been tricked. She should have considered him to be intelligent enough as this, that he would fashion some way that would serve them both without making her culpable for what was about to happen. The part she was ashamed of though was that she had not expected it or seen it coming. She dropped her head back in humiliation, telling herself she would pretend it was not happening. No matter how much she knew she wanted it to happen, just like this.

"No no, my dear," the warlock master said, painfully digging his claws into her rounded out bottom. She could feel little welts raising up beneath his grip. "I want you to watch, every inch, every preciousss inch as I enter you."

He licked his teeth again and she pulled her head forward, looking down. Biting on the gag, she winced ever so slightly as he positioned himself, then gripped both of her hips and held her over him. Slowly but surely, he penetrated her. The thickness wasn't too much for her to handle. The coolness of his skin felt strange. But the idea of having him, this man in particular, inside her...knowing her husband had forbidden such an act but that at this very moment she was not culpable for what was happening. Tears rolled down her cheeks, soaking the bandage stuffed in her mouth. They were evidence of her pleasure, because the feeling of being taken by him, like this, was divine.

She worked hard not to move her hips, to not make it obvious how she felt about what he was doing. She couldn't help herself though. Even as his hands drew her downwards, causing her shoulders to creak with the strain, she was rolling her pelvis towards him. Taking him in, taking him as deeply as she could. There was nothing left to do but enjoy what was happening. He had known she would want it, wanted him to fuck her. And he had known she would never intentionally disobey her husband. Tease and torment, she was permitted that. This, she was not allowed to do.

But, here she was. The warlock female rolled her hips back and away, looking at her new lover's face, into the hollows of his eyes. He was grimacing, also lost in the depths of pleasure as he penetrated her sex, her pussy. The entire length of him disappeared inside her again. She could feel the thicker part of him, the head of him, pressing against her womb. She gasped against her gag as he withdrew, his rhythmic movements coming faster now. She stared at him, watching as he bit his tongue. His fingers dug so deep into her hips that he was gripping her bones now, his thumbs pressing the softer inside of her navel area as he held onto her. He was the one moving her, he was the one fucking her. But she moved over him, making use of every inch of slack the rope offered.

It didn't take long before both of them were releasing. He leaned forward, his tongue licking along her neck, tasting her sweat-soaked skin and lapping along the curve of her breasts. She panted, her pussy tightly clenching him. And it occurred to her yet again that she knew nothing about the ways of the undead. What wicked seed was dripping out of her now, along the insides of her thighs? She looked down and saw something dark like ichor running in small rivulets down her legs, coating his own grey skin and staining his pale robes.

His fingers moved to her chin as he looked at her, studying her face. Then he pulled the gag free, stroking her cheeks. She was flushed, her face felt hot as coals in a fire as he caressed her.

"Was it everything you wanted, my sssweet lady?"

She dared not respond, fearful of how much she had wanted it. He seemed to understand, and smiled. Then he carefully released the rope, holding her as she collapsed with a whimper into his arms.

"I am sorry it had to hurt you so," he apologized, undoing her binds. Immediately she pulled away from him, scooting so far back so fast that she almost slid off the edge of the floating island. She was breathing heavily now, blinking at him, unsure of what to do next. He did not cover himself, his penis half hard still as it rested against his thigh. The sight of him so at ease after what they had done somehow gave her comfort.

I haven't done something wrong, she told herself. And if she had to tell her husband anything, he would understand. He would know it wasn't her. Wouldn't he?

"You do not have to tell him anything, you realize," the undead warlock said softly, beckoning her closer. "I did not want you to have to keep from enjoying what passion we shared. And I ssso wanted to experience you, my dear. The sweetness of your body. I could not give yourself to me with a clear conscience. Now? There is nothing to worry about."

On hands and knees, she crept over to him. With no idea of why she was doing it, she found herself straddling his thighs again. He seemed to look at her, tilting his head. She put her wrists together, gulping, surprised for a change at her own boldness, and presented her hands to him. Nodding, he understood and reached for the ropes. This time, he knew, he would not need the gag.

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