Yrba's Travels Pt. 07

The witch smacked her lips and laughed. "Oh, it might not look like much now, but his dangly breeding bit sure can change its shape. Not while he's out cold like that, though. Mirca, search some more firewood and bring me a fresh bucket of water from the brook. No need to hurry. Take your time."

"Uh — Now?"

The witch patted her pupil's biceps, smiled and nodded.

"Now. Sweetie, I need some alone time with him. I'll soon teach you about m—Soon, but not now. Not yet." Yrba cracked her knuckles. "I need to do. You know. Some more of thesecretwitch stuff."

"Ah!"

~

Yrba dropped the wet rag back into the bucket of warm soap water and reached for a new towel. She carefully dried the unconscious man's genitals and gently rolled his sack in her hand.

"There, all patched up, and now you're nice and clean, too." Lifting the worn, scratched lute, she added, "Traveling bard, eh?" She patted down the pockets of his clothes. "And poor as a church mouse, just as I expected. So let's see, whatelsemight you be able to offer for my services, huh?"

She raised a tinted piece of crystal to her eyes and squinted. Through the looking glass, his skin shone in ever-changing colors. "Little underweight, been wandering a few days without much food, I guess." Her fingertips traveled over his skin and probed the tension of his sinewy arms, watching the rainbow streaks dance and settle after her hand moved on. "Handsome, and tall enough for a man. Skinny. Could well use a shave. Not much of a hard worker. Horny fingertips of a dedicated musician, though. So you're at least serious about your art, bard."

Yrba finished her inspection. "You're clean inside and out. Quite healthy, too. Oh yes, that'll be just the harvest I need. Don't worry, I'll be gentle—"

Yrba leaned in and held her hands at finger's length over his balls and his limp dick. She whispered, "Rise."

A twitch went through the contracted, wrinkly skin, and that was it. Yrba frowned and concentrated stronger. Her fingers bent into hooks.

"Elevare," she mumbled, with a little anger creeping in.

She sighed and grabbed the tip of his foreskin with two fingers, pulling at it. His dick stretched longer and thinner like dead meat — a sad sight. Yrba tilted her head in mock anger.

"Hey! I'm enticing you, but you've got to do a little by yourself, too! Come on! The tincture's almost used up, but there'sgotto be some response left in you—"

Like a spring, his cock almost retracted into his body as she let go of the foreskin. She narrowed her eyes just to see the last wisps of her tincture's ethereal charge evaporate out of his body, and groaned.

"Oh, so you don't want to work with me? Too bad. I'll have my way, buddy." Yrba's grin returned as she reached for a flat dish and a little wooden box with a neatly sorted, small set of vials. "Let's see," she muttered and licked her lips. "Essence of — no. Maybe — ah! Yes. Oh yes. Well, it's meant for reluctantbulls, but it won't bemyheadache come morning."

Squeak. Pop. — Drip. — Squeak.

"So maybe you've got no magic left in you, but there are herbs that work almost the same. Get ready for thestrongstuff, little man," giggled the witch as she dipped a hair-thin needle in the tiny blue puddle on the earthen disk. A single drop clung to the point as her steady fingers pulled taut a patch of his skin and pricked his flesh with the glistening silver.

The response was immediate. She smiled as the veins on his flaccid pipe fattened and bulged and the blueish skin tone was flushed away by spreading red and growing bulk that drew the foreskin back from the glans. Yrba smacked her lips while the elongating cock curved upwards and lifted itself easily from the sack until it pointed straight up at the ceiling.

"Good enough to eat. Pity I need your precious fluids for my preparations. Oh well, a little foreplay won't hurt —"

She pouted her lips and placed them on the smooth, silky skin of his hot glans.

"Ommmmgh."

Sllrp. Shlllp. Pllrrrb. Shlurrp.

The tight seal of her lips zoomed up and down the throbbing pillar. Her rough tongue tickled along the underside and enveloped the thin band.

"Mmmpfuah—!"

She felt the twitches and jerks as his tide came in. Yrba drew the pulsing flesh from her mouth, pressed the wide-open hole in his taut glans on an empty vial and milked the long spurts of his semen into the glass.

Raising the glass and watching the liquid against the backdrop of the oven's flames as it settled, Yrba wiped her lips and grinned. "A vial for a vial. See, now we're almost even, bard.Almost. Rest now. The next time, I want you to enjoy it."

She added a few drops from another flask and corked both well before she sorted them back into the grid of the wooden box.

~

Red. Red light. Flickering. Fire.

Alric frowned and regretted it the very next moment. Even the muscles on hisforeheadached. He carefully opened one eye only halfway and looked around. A log cabin. Two women, wrapped in blankets and kneeling on the floor, eyed him cautiously in the unsteady twilight of the fireplace. He felt bandages around his arms and his left leg.

The brown-skinned woman was by his side the very instant he tried to sit up. Her hands with the claw-like fingernails grabbed his arms and helped him to his feet. Alric stared at her. He had heard of the southern tribes, how they looked different, yet he had never seen one of them up close. The touch of her skin was a bit rougher than that of the ladies he had met so far. This close, she smelled enticingly of exotic herbs and woods.

"Thanks. Where's your husband? Your mate? Your master?"

She replied in the throaty sing-song of a language that Alric had never heard before, and offered him some kind of bowl with steaming broth in it. It didn't smell half bad, but he gently yet firmly pushed it away.

"No. Listen, woman, first I need to talk to your, oh whatever he is — to the Northsman who brought me here. Do you understand me? Do you speak my language?" He started gesticulating. "Me — talk — big — man?Gods, this headache is killing me!"

The dark-skinned, weird woman hesitated and then laughed whole-heartedly, pointing at him. He rubbed his temples, sighed and pressed on. "Big. Biiig. Do you get it? — No, you don't. — Biiig. Maaan. Yes? Yes!"

She raised her eyebrows and nodded towards the other woman in his back, with a questioning expression on her face. Then she lifted the soup bowl again. He shook his head.

"No. No!" Alric exhaled. "Man. Maaaaan." He was getting desperate, and so his next gestures were maybe a littletoodescriptive and would have had him thrown from most taverns. At least the roasted demon woman snorted with laughter instead.

"You know? Not wom— oh heavens!"

Mirca rose and stepped up to Yrba's side. Alric stared at the soaring, broad-shouldered giantess. His mouth fell open as finally his brain kicked in.

"That wasyou—?!"

He twitched as the brown-skinned woman patted his thigh, and then she turned her head to the tall girl and said, with a melodic and deep voice, "All right, Mirca. You need not keep quiet any more. I don't think he's a bandit or something."

~

Mirca nodded. "Hi there. Was a pretty dumb idea of you, walking alone and unarmed through the winter wood. So you're no hunter either, I'll wager. Heh, that's probably for the better, if you can't even tell a woman from a man, — uh — and you are?"

He put down the bowl and swallowed. Warmth returned to his body. "Name's Alric. You can call me Al. Yeah, well,yousneak through the winter woods like a bear and rip out wolves' limbs for fun. Doesn't seem very womanly to me either."

A moment of tense silence grew maybe a little too long. Then Mirca looked down and shrugged.

"Just can't stand wolves. They give me the creeps. Make me all itchy and angry. Things get broken when I'm angry. Can't help it." She glanced at him from under furrowed brows.

"Not that I'm complaining, mind you!" Alric hastened to add.

Yrba handed him another bowl. "Here, have some more of the soup. You're still cold and trembling. So what, she's a girl. What's your problem? You wanted to wait for the nextproperhero to come along? She saved your hide, man!"

"Yes, well, thanks a lot," he mumbled, sitting down by the fireplace and clutching the bowl. He drank some more while casting nervous glances at the giantess and the brown-skinned woman to his left and right.

Maybe if I jump up and run right now — no, the huge one would catch up with me before I even reach the woods. Oh heavens, how she tore those wolves apart —

He swallowed. The chowder didn't taste half bad, and while he chewed on the lumps of meat, he tried desperately to think of hare or lamb.

~

"Well, I — I better put on my clothes now, so, if you don't mind, would you please turn around while I—?"

Yrba laughed, put her left hand to her hip and gave him a dismissive wave with the other. "Turn around? Come on, don't act like you need to save us from going blind, staring at your manhood. I've seen bigger. Besides, how d'you think you got out of your rags in the first place?"

"Yes, well, I'd still feel better if —"

"There." She threw his clothes at him, and as he let got of his blanket to catch them, Yrba pulled it away. "Now get dressed, before your junk catches a cold. Oh, and the wolves did quite a number on your garb, you'll need to add some more patches. —What?!"

The bard stared down his naked body that was covered in a few scabs and many streaks of fresh, pink skin.

"That's not possible — I'm — These should be scars, or wounds — I should be — so, uh, you did —? Are you —?" he stuttered while his fingers jumped from streak to streak.

Yrba sighed, raised her eyebrows and pinched the root of her nose. "Yes. I'm a gypsy, I'm a traveling healer, I'm a witch. Did I miss anything? I'll probably regret it, but you're welcome to winter with us, if you dare to stick around and don't mind sleeping in the stable.No fooling with the horse,okay? And you better work on earning our trust, stranger, or we'll throw you out to die."

"Aw, Yrba!" Mirca protested. "He doesn't look evil."

The witch pensively cocked her head. "Evil isn't in looking. Evil is indoing. Remember Berry's night."

Alric jerked as Mirca's whole body language changed tone. Her stare grew cold, her shoulders rose and her hands clenched into fists to the grinding of her knuckles.

Yrba nodded at him. "Whatever you're afraid of now, bard, you don't knowhalfof it."

~

"—And that's it. Her husband noticed, the guards chased me out of town, and I tried to make it to the next village."

Yrba looked him up and down. "Was another pretty stupid thing to do, Alric."

"Yeah, well, I usually score a steady job by the end of fall and earn my stay by playing music at a palace, or an inn, or something. Always worked out, until now."

Mirca prodded him. "Hey, lemme see that." She picked the lute from his lap. "You pluck the stringy things and music comes out, right? I saw this before, at the castle. So, you any good with it?"

"I don't want to boast, but, actually — uh, watch it!" He winced as she turned the delicate instrument in her fingers, ran her fingernails over the strings and wrangled an undead, painful yowl from the lute.

Mirca dropped it back into his lap, jumped to her feet and posed with her hip slowly gyrating. "Well, play us a song, then! It's been so quiet and boring! Yrba, command him! Now I can show you what you taught me about dancing."

The witch chuckled and gave him a playful jab. "You better do as she says, Al! And don't you start with a tired old ballad. You've met traveling folk before, don't you? I guess you know a few fiery tunes as well."

~

"Fiery" didn't even get close to describe Mirca's whirling and bounding. Alric's fingers moved all by themselves, honed by hours of practicing, while his eyes just stared at the hulking young woman whose body now twisted and bent like a snake to the rhythm. Yrba nodded approvingly, clapped the beat with her hands and smiled. Mirca's dreamlike precision when it came to all things wood and axe had spilled over into the motions of the dance steps that the witch had taught her. She made love to the air around her as she whirled through the cabin.

Alric kept his thighs pressed close, hiding his raging hard-on. He had witnessed a lot of scantily-clad dancers, especially in temples that needed to advertise. Mirca's performance beat them all, hands down. Her hips swayed, her toned legs twitched and stomped, and on her chest the heavy weight of her breasts swung and quivered as her body undulated. His eyes clung to the hard nipples as Yrba's rhythm grew faster and faster. Mirca panted now, and drops of sweat glistened in her cleavage that steadily grew darker anddeeper. And then the witch stopped clapping. Mirca let herself fall down on her knees and sat on her haunches, gasping for air and laughing.

"Oh — oops!" Mirca giggled and weighed her pumpkins in her hands. "Almost let my puppies out too far." Her breasts, their bulk at least twice as large now, spilled out of the struggling hemline that was caught against the erect nipples and let half her areolae out in the open. She grabbed her resilient protrusions and pushed on them, flattening her mammaries just enough to squeeze them back into her dress. "Fixed!"

"Did — did you see that?" he gasped and raised a finger, pointing at the straining wrapper of taut-pulled cloth. "She — oh gods, shegrewright before my eyes! You two — you'redemonsafter all! Oh please, mercy —Yeeaaaarggh!"

He jerked and screamed when he felt Yrba's hand.

"Maybe it's time to explain a few things, darling," she cooed as she patted on his shoulder and smiled at him from the corner of her eyes.

~

Chapter 35: Two For The Price Of One

~

Wood creaked, and the faint whisper of the wind in the trees outside grew louder as the cabin door swung open. Yrba looked up. "So where's Alric now?"

Mirca hung her thick fur coat on a hook by the door. "Done feeding the horse, now he's out on that errand of yours." She combed snow out her hair and turned around, only to stop and frown. "Yrba, what are you doing with all that milk?"

The witch smiled, licked her lips and raised the milk bucket to her mouth again. She drew a couple of long gulps from it before she put it down to answer.

"Getting ready for your big night, sweetie. I'll show you how to have fun withmen. Alric's just the right one, I think. Nice guy, not much of an attitude. You like him, too, don't you? You wouldn't mind him putting his dangly breeding bit into you, eh?"

"Tonight?!" Mirca giggled and hid her mouth behind her clenched hands as she bobbed in place. "Oh, yes, he's been soooo sweet all week! He sang songs to me when we were out making firewood, and he's so funny! Uh-huh, he can show me how to do men, anytime." She leaned in and whispered, "Thatfunstuff with men — it's not at all like the fighting stuff Li taught me, right? Because I'd snap him in half if I did anything like that. He's a little brittle, I think."

"Oh Mirca, compared to you,I'mbrittle as well. Now there might be alittlewrestling involved, but it's mostly just rubbing and pushing in the right places." Yrba nodded towards her cart that stood embedded in the wall of the cabin. "Hide quietly in there and peek through the little hole that I showed you, Mirca."

Yrba uncorked a few of her vials and swallowed the colored liquids. Her face contorted in disgust, and she shivered. Mirca frowned.

"And why areyoudrinking these potions? You always said they won't work on you."

The witch pulled her garment's neckline down and rolled her shoulders while she kneaded her heavy breasts. Goosebumps spread over Yrba's dark chocolate skin as her glands noticed the rich supply of milk coursing through her body and woke to their task. The black nipples contracted in anticipation as her spongy ducts filled, and Yrba gulped and gasped for air.

"Mmmh. Oh wow.Oh wow!It's kickin' in mightily fast this time." Her fingers rolled her breasts' dark, supple flesh that firmed up in her grip. "Huhhh. Oh yes!Ungh!Mirca, these are herbs, not magical potions. This broth of four-leafed milkman's friend here works wonders for me, and the boiled root of bullweed, well, it does nothing for us women, but I can keep it nice and warm for our bard to tap, and he'll surely like what it does forhim." She pinched one of her hard nipples. "Oh, he'll not forget this night in a hurry! Well? Go and hide now, he's just closed the stable door! I'll make sure you get a good view of the action."

~

The last rays of sunlight slipped behind the dark silhouettes of the distant mountains. Alric carried a bucket of freezing water with a few chunks of ice in it back to the shed.

"And like the sun, it warms my heart, it fills me with delight / your face it shines with love for me, oh something something something / night.Dammit. Doesn't work."

He knocked on the hut's door.

"Yrba, I've fed the horse and here's the ice water you asked for. Can I come in now?"

"It's unlocked," answered her voice. He pushed the door open and froze, despite the rush of warm air that washed over him.

Yrba laid on the floor, resting on her right side, with her head propped up on her right hand. She wore a fiery red dress he had neither seen before nor expected her to own. Its silken gloss and flow of pleats accentuated the curves of her body, and a wide belt with gold decorations made sure her trim waist did not go unnoticed. One of her toned legs showed through a long gap in the smooth textile, and the glow of a golden pendant cast sparkling reflexes of the fireplace from the dark brown depths of her cleavage. Her left hand traced the contour of her hip and pulled the cloth's folds higher, revealing the shapely form of her leg. The single, almost healed scar on her thigh only served to heighten her feral, wicked allure.

After a few seconds, he tore his stare from her seductive figure. "Uh — Mirca's not around?"

"Asleep already, my dear. Here, come and sit with me for a while. Let's talk."

He sat down on the warm blanket of wolf pelts that covered most of the floor in front of the fireplace. Keeping his distance, he stared into the flames and cleared his throat. "So ... what do you want to talk about?"

Yrba looked at him from the corner of her eyes, raised an eyebrow and ran her fingertips along the groove where her dress' straining neckline dug into the swelling flesh of her overflowing breasts. Oh, howfullshe already felt.

He had noticed her bulging, taut mammaries as well.

"Yrba, let's talk tomorrow, I — I think I need to catch up on sleep —"

She grabbed his belt and pulled him down on the warm rug just as he tried to rise. He stumbled and rolled on his back right in front of her.

"Isn't it time you truly earned your stay, bard?" Yrba breathed into his ear as she crawled over him and pushed him to the ground, with her drawn-up knee on his chest. "Isn't it so that all you traveling songsmiths have a way with the ladies, huh?" Her hands fumbled along the buttons of her dress, and each freed button gave way to more of her chocolate breasts as they squeezed to freedom through the growing gap.

"Gods, I've not felt so horny for weeks! Come on, bard, tell me, isn't your kind supposed to be the ruin of many a woman? So ruin me already! Ruin me a couple o' times!" She pulled on her belt. "Don't just stare! Help me undress! Oh dammit, I can't get that belt buckle open.Mmmngh!Oh shit, I'm soaking my dress already. Well?!"