To Save a World Ch. 06

"Oh?" the young woman raised an eyebrow. "And I'm guessing tormenting Serche by being buried in that tight, wet, abused hole is doing wonders for your recovery?"

Aaron paused. He hadn't removed himself from Serche, his cock retaining a pleasant half-hard state inside her gooey embrace. "That's exactly right. It's the perfect place to recuperate." Perhaps understanding their banter, Serche whimpered again from beneath them, her eyes closed.

"Well, I can't say she doesn't deserve it. She almost broke my girly parts just a little while ago. Serves her right." Despite her harsh words, her eyes held a fondness as they smiled down at the unconscious silver-haired Shaman, tenderly rubbing the strange, fuzzy texture of her cheek. Minus the nudity, general depravity, and the sex fluids everywhere, it would have made for a remarkably domestic scene.

"What's wrong, Aaron? You seem to have something on your mind."

"Yeah." Aaron replied. "I'm figuring out how I'm going to lie down without having to remove myself from Serche's warm embrace, now that she's asleep."

Lydia laughed, blushing slightly. "Oh, master, what have you become. Here, let me help you." The happiness in her voice sounded like the tinkling of most pleasant, intricately crafted bells in the whole wide world.

It was the weirdest sensation. That moment, those precious few seconds of hearing her laughter, made warmth bloom in his chest like leaves unfurling to greet the coming spring. She looked even more perfect to him, then. Her smile, the twinkling of her eyes, even the explosion of her now neck-length, flame-hued hair seemed to frame her face just right to fill him with a sense of well-being. And all the while, his half-hard cock was still buried inside of Serche's well-fucked, cummy hole.

Shame suddenly filled him, as he realized the depths of his depravity. How could he feel something like that towards one person, while literally in the middle of the most intimate of acts with another?

But then Lydia was there, with her smile that beamed innocence but with her eyes that spoke of wisdom.

"What's wrong?" She asked him softly.

"Nothing, I just..."

"Started to think of something silly. So I'm going to hug you, and tell you that whatever that is, it's going to be all right." Lydia did just that, her arms went around him in a protective embrace.

Aaron self-consciously withdrew his cock from Serche's sheath with a squelch. Cum immediately gushed from her entrance, the creamy white thickness lost in her fine, silvery fur. Despite everything, he still found the sight thrilling to no end -- further fueling his internal conflict. He had just bathed himself a while ago -- but with all the sweat, cum, and other bodily fluids he felt... Not exactly filthy, but not exactly clean either.

"Is this really okay with you, Lydia?" He asked hesitantly, unable to look into her eyes.

Lydia cupped his cheeks with both of her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. Her digits still smelled like sex. "Yes, my Aaron." She said, simply. "I love it."

And then she kissed him. Tenderly. Chastely. Compared to everything that they've ever done, that has ever happened between the two of them and the three of them, it was really nothing more than two facial organs brushing together -- yet that small gesture took his breath away like nothing else ever did. Soothed his fears and hesitance like no amount of mindless rutting ever could.

"Yeah." He said, smiling. "Okay."

They laid down, making sure to place Serche in the middle like a worn out, sex-smelling stuffed toy. The weather was just warm enough to justify their nakedness as they cuddled against each other; skin to skin, limbs entangled, parts mashed into each other in post-coital bliss.

"Well, this wilding thing of hers is definitely something, huh?" Aaron whispered to Lydia. Lydia and Serche faced each other and somehow, despite the difference in size, the smaller woman had Serche tucked right under her chin, nuzzling her collar. Aaron lay on his side, his legs tangled with the women's, his arm encompassing them both.

"Don't worry, I have a feeling we'll be able to take care of her easily."

"Really now," Aaron closed his eyes.

"Yes," Lydia whispered back. "I'm sure. Everything will be all right."

And everything did go well. At least for the first three days.

One would think that a life composed solely of fucking and sleeping was something to dream about. Until recently, Aaron had been one of those who thought so. On the fourth day of Serche's wilding, however, Aaron had begun to think very differently.

Serche was beyond ravenous. She had ceased to be a creature of desire, and became a creature of need. Sex to her became as necessary as breathing, as eating. Indeed, it seemed to the two lucid youths that the Shaman never went more than an hour without a cock, pussy, breast, or other part of a body to quench her thirst.

Serche demanded so much sex that the three of them could hardly sleep. The previous night, it took a straight hour of hard fucking to tire the Shaman out sufficiently to slumber. Only for Lydia to almost drown in Serche's juices at the first crack of dawn, as she used Lydia's mouth even while the poor girl was still asleep.

The three of them would fuck well into noon, then, and when their stomachs started protesting, one of them would have to sacrifice themselves so that the other could prepare a meal. They couldn't get anything done without the other fully occupying Serche's attentions. Aaron had lost count of how many times he's prepared a meal with Lydia's face buried in Serche's crotch right in front of him (or vice-versa, really). Eating while his cock was stuffed in the Shaman's gullet became a norm, as was eating while she fucked herself on his cock, somehow.

They had to practically drag the woman to the river to bathe. And then, of course, they fucked on the riverbank, and waters, and even on the way back to the camp. Aaron had to carry Serche through the forest, impaled on his cock, legs and arms wrapped around him, just so he could walk. Otherwise, the Shaman would drag either of the two into the bushes and fuck there, and then they'd have to go back to the river so that they could get clean again.

It had begun to worry Aaron when his cock and balls started to ache. It was easy for Serche to notice, however, what with her mouth constantly finding its way into his dick. Good thing too, because Serche made the pain go away just like that, like a layer of sand wiped off a surface.

Serche had used healing magic to heal his cock, even as she sucked on it, all the while she stared at his eyes with those luminous golden orbs of hers. Now he knew how Serche could go on and on without tearing her poor pussy apart. She was probably doing the same to Lydia as well.

It was on the fourth day of Serche's wilding that Lydia began to protest -- but not about what he expected.

"Master... All this magic -- wait no... yes! Oh yes, honey, be gentle just a bit... This magic, it's all going to waste." Lydia panted. Interruptions in speech had become common to them that Aaron managed to tune them out unconsciously. At the moment, he was in the process of making a simple venison stew for brunch, but his attention was divided between his cooking and watching Serche chew on Lydia's poor, swollen clit.

"To waste?" Aaron inquired, unconsciously adjusting the hardness in his pants. The past few days, it seemed like his cock had never had the chance to go completely soft. Lydia was seated on the end of a log bench, facing sideways from him, so as to accommodate Serche who was on all fours on the ground in between her lewdly splayed legs, her face absolutely buried in Lydia's snatch.

"Mhmm." Lydia whimpered. She had started to pant a little, her eyes going blank.

Aaron waited a bit as Lydia climaxed with a stiff shudder, her whole body flexing fluidly as she ground into Serche's face in place. Serche barely batted an eye at this, riding out her orgasm with her lips firmly ensconced on Lydia's abused clit. "No. No more!" Lydia gasped, pushing Serche's head firmly away. "Go to Aaron, it's his turn. No! To master! You horny thing."

Serche gave her the stink eye, but seemed to get the message. She crawled on the ground to Aaron's place, literally pawed his trousers off, and despite his weak protestations had his half hard cock buried deep down her throat within the next five seconds. Serche physically turned him away from the fire, so he had to hand the stirring to Lydia with a helpless shrug.

"I can't absorb all of it anymore, even if I wanted to. And there's still so, so much. It's all going to waste, and it bothers me." Lydia said as soon as she got her breathing under control. She still had her legs wide open and was gently stroking her snatch, it seemed, in sympathy for its sufferings.

Aaron's cock slowly grew inside Serche's hot, willing orifice. Over the days, it seemed like the Shaman had trained herself to be a capable cocksucker, able to get him hard and have her way with him in the most efficient way possible. She buried the hardening rod to the root, applying a lot of spit and just the gentlest of suctions, all the while she slowly, soothingly fondled his hanging, overtaxed balls. "What," Aaron sighed, while rubbing the spot just behind Serche's ears in encouragement "Can we do about it?" Serche hummed in satisfaction from below, as if responding to their conversation.

"I dunno." Lydia replied. She closed her legs with a sigh. She sat most demurely now, straightened the shirt she wore as if it mattered at all. "It would be better if I can spend it on something else."

Aaron thought about it for a bit. It was, however, becoming increasingly hard to focus on things other than Serche's slow adoration of his cock. The Shaman woman slurped his meat like she wanted to memorize the placement of every vein with her tongue, savored the taste and texture of his cock so that she would remember it even in her dreams. A little bit of Lydia's words, however, managed to grab his pleasured mind's attention.

"Something else?" Aaron asked. "You've been using magic recently? What for?"

"Well, sometimes I couldn't control myself. When the three of us are together, I unwittingly... Fan the flames of our desire." She looked at the ground, smiling sheepishly. "Are you angry?"

Aaron shook his head. He'd figured as much, really. There has been something unnatural about the way he can rise up to the occasion literally each and every time Serche and Lydia demanded attention. He wasn't an expert in psychology, but it was within reason that a man eating the same meal, three times a day, every day for the past four days, is bound to tire of it eventually -- even if it was the most delicious meal in the world indeed.

But apparently, not when his mealtime friend was a being who can manipulate his very urges.

At the back of his mind, Aaron felt that the situation did require a little more serious consideration. But Serche was becoming very distracting (she's started to rub her face all over his hot, hard prick, spreading her spit and his precum all over her), so he just grunted and said "No harm done, right?"

Lydia grinned at him mischievously and replied, "I wouldn't dream of harming you, master."

"But although enflaming desire does normally take a lot of magic, I have so much now that it barely matters. And I don't have any other outlet, unless you want me to put everyone to sleep, or light a couple of fires everywhere." Lydia continued. In the background, the schlop, schlop, schlop of Serche's machinations down below provided a pleasant melody to Lydia's words.

Aaron hummed from somewhere deep in his chest. He wanted to sound contemplative but ended up just sounding supremely horny. Granted, it was quite difficult to be anything else while a busty, Valkyrie-amazon-goddess cross breed was positively worshipping your cock. "Making Serche sleep sounds kinda appealing."

"We tried that the first day, remember? We just ended up having even less sleep the next day."

Aaron moaned in acknowledgement. Serche had begun an intense routine on his tool. She would take it to the root, suck hard, and then slowly, slowly pull back out. When she had nothing but the head in her mouth, she would then swirl her tongue over it for a couple of seconds, and then release it with a plop for it to cool in the pleasant noon air. And then she would do it all over again, carefully and patiently. All the while those lidded, hungry golden orbs held Aaron's eyes. Lydia noted with interest how it set Aaron to boiling almost immediately, remembering the technique for future use.

"Anyway, I just feel like it's such a waste." Lydia concluded, a little bit forlornly. She'd lived a life of squalor up until the past few months -- not only bereft of basic necessities but also of her magic. To have this much magic almost felt like a sin.

But what was more obscene was letting the chance to gather magic slip away. For the past eighteen years, she had scrounged what little bit of magic she could amidst the broken desires of crumbling whorehouses in the unforgiving sprawl of Searle. Drop after pitiful drop of her barely understood magical essence came at the expense of other helpless women knowing no other comfort but the company of strangers, the familiarity of the beating and the regularity of the violation. She felt like she owed it to her past self, to those other women even, to be greedy.

Lydia sighed. She knew that by now her master wouldn't be listening, but she didn't really mind. She understood. The pot of stew boiled alluringly under the low fire. So did, apparently, Aaron's loins under Serche's care.

He grunted. Lydia timed it just right -- her magic enhanced both of her friends' emotions as Aaron released his first spurt of cum. For the young man, this translated to a devastatingly white-hot explosion of pleasure. For Serche, the moment his molten cream hit her mouth, she was rewarded with a toe-curling, nipple stiffening, eye rolling kind of orgasm. Serche panted heavily, her little moans muffled by Aaron's cock.

Lydia smiled at the spectacle contentedly. That took a lot of magic from her -- but the pure, loving desire that saturated the air more than made up for it. And there were still more. The air around her sang with potential, and it irked her that she could take in no more. She sighed again. Aaron groaned long and low across from her.

"Damn, again? " He asked, exasperated. Serche was climbing unto his lap eagerly, expertly positioning herself and inserting Aaron into her without preamble. "We haven't even... Eaten." Aaron began to protest, knowing it was no use.

Lydia laughed at the scene, her worries momentarily pushed aside by the adorable conflicted look on her master's face, almost drowned by Serche's abundant tit flesh. He noticed and squinted at her. "Come here." He demanded. Lydia obeyed with a smile, and their lips met. They kissed tenderly, even as Serche began to smoothly rock in Aaron's lap, stirring her insides with his thick rod. His hand reached behind her to caress her neck, her back, and to settle in her tiny little ass. The all too familiar tingles of desire awoke in Lydia once again.

"And don't worry," Aaron whispered against her lips. He darted a glance east, to the direction of the river. "I think I know of a way we can use your magic. I'd hate to waste the opportunity, as well."

He smiled at her reassuringly, and Lydia melted on the inside.

"Well," Aaron frowned. Serche seemed to have lost her patience and was starting to really go to town on him. "At least as soon as we can calm this freaking sex demon down."

* * *

Everything was going all right for Old Hunter.

At least, that's what he kept on telling himself, as he stood stock still, hands spread wide and knees a little bent in readiness. Beastmen did not sweat, but they breathed more and longer. That's what he did. His breathing was calm and deep -- despite the rapid, strong beats of his heart. His catch for the day lay forgotten at his feet, the deer carcass discarded a little to the side so that he wouldn't trip on it. His bow, arrows, and spear were scattered about as well.

In front of him stood a massive bear.

It was perched on its hind legs, towering twice as tall as a man, and was a creature of such girth that it would take about two full grown men to encircle it with their arms. Its fur was a deep, dark brown, and its ponderous body was leaning against a huge tree. Trasnu had disturbed it as it was marking the bark, testing its claws.

Bears are not aggressive creatures by nature. This one stared down at him curiously. Black, beady eyes scanned his body -- so diminutive compared to its own. It looked at the stone dagger on Trasnu's right hand and snorted, as if in laughter, and went back to scanning him. Threats would make them react, to either run or fight, but Trasnu did not even seem to register to the bear as a threatening thing. That was good -- it means he's being underestimated. He'd have the advantage of surprise.

I'm all right, Trasnu told himself once again.

His scouting expedition wasn't really just for scouting, everyone knew that. Lydia and Aaron would by now think that he left because of Serche's wilding, to give them privacy. It was a nice sentiment, but they'd be wrong. Trasnu did not really care one way or another, it would have been perfectly fine for him seeing all three of them rutting about everywhere. Such things did not affect him anymore. It made for a great excuse, though.

Serche, on the other hand, thought that he left to die.

And that wasn't true. Not really. He did plan to return, bearing valuable information and more meat and skins that they could ever dream of. But if he succumbed to his cursed wound while alone in the forest, or if he met an accident, or maybe even met his match in, say, a bear -- now, nobody would be able to do anything about that. Such was the nature of things. Such was the nature of the test.

Even he, really, did not have a clear idea on why he wanted to be alone. Not until he felt the presence of a giant bear somewhere near him. And then he was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. Now, facing this giant of muscle and claws, he knew.

He left to test himself.

The death of his wife had affected him greatly, had made him face the brutal reality of his own mortality. He could train his body to be the fastest, the strongest, but it would eventually wither and die. He could hone his instincts, make him a force to be reckoned with in combat, or a prodigy of navigation and survival, and yet he would still be powerless against happenstance and chance. He could open his mind to the knowledge of their forefathers, to learn about all of the things under the sun, and yet he would still be defenseless against a million other unseen threats.

His wife was one of the greatest treesingers, better than even Leiyis, the Shaman of his generation -- and yet she was laid waste by a simple sickness. His people were survivors, and created an unmatched, unique civilization in the deep wilderness, yet they were brought low by a fortuitous storm. They were the fiercest warriors, yet they were caught, and were enslaved.

Life was fragile, and the world was unpredictable. Trasnu wondered how other people could live so blissfully uncaring of their imminent death. Could they not see that their lives were naked candle lights amidst a storm?

Trasnu was aware, of course, that it was an unreasonable fear. Might as well worry that the earth might open up and swallow him whole.

But still... If the earth did open up, he wasn't going to be caught unawares. He would climb right back out with all of his strength, using all the knowledge he's gained, using the instincts he's honed. The Old Hunter wasn't just going to lie there and silently pass into the dark.