The Exile (muscularguy4F X Saezra)

[Saezra]

A pair of young men from the village had found him by the side of the road, just toward the local wood. He was badly wounded, as far as they could see, and completely unconscious. They had brought him right to her.

She had been sitting in a chair on the veranda at the time, sewing. When she heard them shouting, she knew something had happened. Her healing skills had been in demand recently, after all. She rose from her seat, ushering the men and their cargo inside.

Ever since the Great Betrayer had seized the capitol, things like this seemed to be happening with worrying regularity. Still, she tried not to think about that. The capitol was far away, and there was plenty more immediate things to worry about.

The man's wounds were severe, she worked on him for hours on the night she received him, going to bed herself only when he was stabilised. Not that she resented such effort of course. She was a priestess of Mercy, the goddess of healing, kindness and purity. This was the work she'd been born to do.

A few days had passed since then, with no sign of her guest stirring. Even if he wasn't responsive, however, she was happy for the company, it got lonely in her small chapel. She'd been sent here when she was sixteen, her temple-academy training complete. Her role now was to maintain a small chapel on her own, a life of quiet contemplation. It had been three years since then, and the four rooms of her modest shrine often seemed unbearably small.

It wasn't often, as such, that she got visitors. Particularly men. And even rarer men like this. He seemed older to the priestess, perhaps as much as twice her age. He was solid, rugged, handsome. She felt a little flutter in her chest when she leant down to tend to his wounds, or listened to the powerful, rythmic thump of his heartbeat.

It wasn't long before she had impure thoughts.

She of course tried all the temple doctrine. Cold water, rest, prayer, a slap on the back of her hand every time such a thought arose. If anything the last one only made it worse. Quite subconsciously, she found herself putting more of an effort into her appearance. She had always kept herself free of body hair of course, that was doctrine, but now, when she went for groceries in the village, she picked up a little bit of lip rouge.

The grocer had offered her a cheeky smile "Aiming for a man, are we good sister?" she'd winked "I thought you priestesses weren't supposed to do such things?". The priestess had gone bright red at that, and hurriedly garbled an excuse about needing the make-up for medicine. The grocer just laughed and winked again, and the girl fled back to her chapel, red faced and embarrassed.

Things had only gotten worse from there. She knew she'd have to wash him some how, for the purposes of hygiene, otherwise infection was far more likely. She'd held off though, worrying about what it might lead her to do. After four days though, she knew it could wait no longer. She brought a wet sponge to the bed, and undressed what clothes she had not already had to remove. Her hands trembled as she did so, her cheeks flushed, and she could feel her timid heart thundering in her chest, in her ears even.

She ran her small hands across his broad torso and felt a thrill shuddering through her. She has paused a long moment, before steeling herself. Then, she gently began to scrub him clean, starting with the shoulders, and then tending to every part she could, other than the groin.

When it came to this place, she hesitated, but the desire was overwhelming. Besides...it was for the sake of his hygiene. She removed a towel she had quickly placed over him there, then stared for a long moment. She had seen such things before, in some anatomical books, and once when a young man from the village had hurt his upper thigh. She did not know they could get quite so big however. Her cheeks felt holt again.

She quickly covered him up and fled, moving from the infirmary to her own room.

She brought herself to release three times that night. The High Priestess had warned her of such times. Self pleasure was a sin, she had said, but sometimes a lesser sin is required to prevent a greater one.

It was morning now. A pale winter light spilled through the frosted windows of the small shrine. The young priestess stood in front of the infirmaries door, holding some fresh bandages and some water. She did her best to surpress her nerves, and the butterflies in her stomach, before gently, cautiously, pushing the door open.

When she entered, she screamed in surprise, and dropped what she was carrying. After all, she has not been expecting the figure in the bed to be sitting up.

 

[muscularguy4F]

Just weeks before Jerred had been one of the most powerful, respected and indeed, feared Lords in the realm. A Lord unlike any other, a Lord not born into lands or titles. One that didn't worry about collecting taxes from his subjects or whether their crop yield would see them through the winter. Instead, he was a Lord of War. The Lord of War. A title that had never been bestowed upon any man before him. It was one of the last orders even given by the old King. Made on his deathbed to ensure that it was Jerred not only continued to lead the armies after he was gone but would sit on the young Queen's counsel, advising and assisting.

A heathen with no name and no family, he could never have been knighted. Nor could he have been given lands of any real meaning. Instead, he was rewarded by a King that recognised and valued his intelligence and skill. Though undoubtedly one of the best fighters in the Kingdom, it was his brains that stood out to the King. His ability to read situations and people belied his brutish appearance and, often enough, his demeanour.

But that had all changed with the death of one of the high priests. While he and Jerred did not always sing off the same hymn sheet, they had an understanding; a mutual respect through knowing that each were there by right and with the Queen's best interests at heart. But an illness had taken him, somewhat quickly, leaving a space at the table.

His immediate successor had been voted in by her fellow clergy by unanimous consent. A relative newcomer to the church, she had risen quickly largely due to abilities that she claimed were due to a higher level of faith. Jerred had instinctively distrusted her and made a move wrestle some of her power away from her position.

But it had failed and judgement was passed on him, exiling him from the capitol and relieving him of his title, his position and almost all of his affects. All he had accomplished, everything he had in his life taken away from him in an instant. Left with just his long and short swords, some basic clothes and a few personal belongings that few knew about, he was cast out.

As he wondered through the great woods, a large staff in his right hand and a cloak concealing his weapons, he found himself contemplating his fate. It was almost a fate worse than death, the nail in the coffin coming when he heard the words spoken by the young Queen. The same young lady whom he had helped nurture, guide and had cared for. He could hear from her voice that it wasn't truly her speaking, but it hurt just as deeply

He had taken a risk in travelling alone through the woods an area well covered by bands of thieves, but he knew he needed to keep well hidden. The sorceress would likely send men to try to finish him off and they would struggle to find him where he was headed.

But when he awoke in what seemed to be a small room that was poorly lit and smelled strongly of herbs, salts and incense he soon realised his risk had not paid off. Memories flooded back to him in snippets as if hearing every other line in the retelling of the story. He remembered how a group of mercenaries had found him and surrounded him. They were too well trained or armed to be thieves and certainly weren't part of his army - not one man would dare take that order. No, they were her men. Which meant they didn't know him as well as they should have. They had assumed he was unarmed with the exception of his staff. It made them cocky and they had dropped their guard just long enough for him to take out one with rapid high slash to his throat. He had moved quickly, never letting them truly corner him. He had parried thrust and slash and hit back with speed and skill. But he took cuts to his legs and his torso, the numbers eventually catching up to him. He had done just enough to create space, to buy himself time. He remembered heading towards a track..

That's where it all went blank. Now he lay in a strange room, his naked form covered by a series of bandages and a towel. Sitting up and inspecting himself he noticed each cut had healed well; as if given days rather than hours; and that the towel that covered his manhood was at an angle that suggested it had been moved after being placed there.
A scream rang through the chamber and he clamped his hands to his ears, turning to see the cause of the noise. "I'm not going to hurt you" he growled through annoyance and weakness. "So how about you stop that and explain to me where I am"

 

[Saezra]

The girl in front of him stood gaping for a moment, before blushing and quickly stooping to gather up the bandages and water (mercifully contained in a waterskin) she had dropped from the floor.

“Oh! Sorry-“ she stammered, red faced and averting eye contact. “I didn’t expect you to be awake.” She glanced up, and offered a shy smile “Oh- yes..er..you are at my shrine.” She blushed again, adjusting her headscarf “Well…not my shrine per say, a shrine to the goddess, Mercy, I am one of her faithful.”

The girl shuffled forward. She looked to be in her late teens, pale and petite. Her features seemed delicate, with a slight scattering of freckles over her otherwise alabaster complexion. Her eyes were hazel, though flecked with spots of green. They were wide and anxious.

The rest of her was hard to make out. She wore a headdress wrapped around her hair all the way down to her upper shoulders, exposing only her face. Her body was similarly hidden under an ill-fitting robe, unadorned and impractically large for her. As she moved towards him, she bundled up her sleeves above the elbow, exposing slender arms which seemed to suggest she was a good deal slimmer than her baggy attire hinted at.

“I’m Tayree.” She explained, pulling a stool up beside him, and offering the waterskin after a moments hesitation. Her accent was local, sing-song and lilting, though perhaps a little rustic. “Some boys from the village found you wounded nearby and brought you here to me.” She explained, before furrowing her brow with concern “How are you feeling?”

 

[muscularguy4F]

"Mercy!" He grunted, nodding his head as if to agreeing with her answer. She was indeed a goddess that would encourage healing, but then he didn't really care for specifics. There were far too many deities for his liking.

He shifted slightly in his seating position to look around the shrine. It was small and modest, though he knew shrines were always better equipped than most taverns or healers' lodges. He didn't worship of even believe in most of the gods, yet he knew they were necessary. They gave people hope and strength and for the most part their buildings and their faithful were highly valuable.

He watched the young priestess as she came closer, his eyes studying her movements. After a few steps he relaxed, noting the obvious nervousness in her demeanour. He loose clothing could easily has concealed a knife or blade, but no trained killer would seem so worried about approaching a wounded man.
Once relaxed, he noted how her attire though large, would cling to certain parts of he body as she moved. From what he could see of her she was attractive, not that he had the time to act on it. But old habits died hard.

He tested his leg, stretching it out and then tensing it to see if he could put his weight on it. Despite the large ugly wound that was beginning to scar across his thigh, the leg was strong. It was a good sign, he couldn't afford to be in one place for too long. He needed to reach the ancient forest sooner rather than later.

"The leg feels strong enough" he replied, nodding at her. "I don't have much to offer, but in the future I will repay your kindness with offerings to your temple and your goddess." His voice was deep and kind, but had raspy undertone that reminded people that he could be dangerous. "I am grateful for all you have done, but I should move on. People will be looking to finish the job and staying here will do neither you nor I any good. Where are my possessions? My clothes and my weapons?"

 

[Saezra]

Tayree smiled softly at his words “That’s good to hear. If I’m honest the speed of your recovery has been remarkable, I suppose you’re just robust!” she pulled her stool a little closer, offering the waterskin again.

“Your possessions are just in the other room.” She smiled, her cheeks colouring a little “I…er…washed them if you don’t mind, your clothes that is. I didn’t mean to be rude, but they were dusty, I assume you were a long time on the road…” she trailed off, her smile becoming a tad more apologetic in nature “I did my best to repair your trousers but I didn’t have thread in the right colour, so they might look a little odd.”

She regarded him a moment, glancing down to his wound. “I don’t think it would be wise to head away so soon. I know you must be worried your attackers will come again, but I’m certain not even such brigands would attack a holy place.” She punctuated her statement with a confident nod. “As for now, I’d be best placed cleaning your wound again if you’ll allow me, and you really should drink. It will help you keep your strength up.”

 

[muscularguy4F]

A rough, toughened hand more like a bear paw reached out and took the water skin from the young priestess. He out it to his lips, looking at her and nodding in thanks before taking a deep gulp. The water swilled around in his dry mouth, washing away the feeling of dirt and stale saliva.
Refreshed, he drank again water dripping out of his mouth and from his beard as he greedily emptied the skin.

For a moment he just sat there, his body awakening and his strength starting to return as the water began to course through his body. He could feel his hearth thumping louder in his chest, the feelings in his extremities returning. He clenched his fist a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of power in his grip and shifted his head from side to side, cracking out the stiffness.

Jerred's gaze turned to Tayree, meeting her eyes with his own deep blues. The colouring on her cheeks was obvious and it made him chuckle internally. He was accustomed to getting similar reactions from women and he always enjoyed that feeling of power. He was not, however, used to getting such an obvious reaction of embarrassment from quite so easily. It was quite enjoyable.

"I thank you and do not worry about the appearance of my trousers. I should look like a common villager." He wiped the water from his mouth and beard with the back of his hand. "Indeed, I was on the road for too long without somewhere to rest, it would be good to bathe properly before I dress." He paused, turning his head from side to side as his acute hearing picked up the sound of water. "You have a bath of some kind?" He asked, though it was more of a statement. "Show me to it." He said before she could answer, slowly standing to his full, towering height, making no effort at all to stop the towel covering his groin from dropping to the floor.

 

[Saezra]

Tayree tensed, politely averting her eyes. “Oh! Er- yes…I do but, the tub isn’t very-“ she made a strange waggling motion with her hands “-large. You wouldn’t be able to fit- even I find it a bit cramped.”

With great care to keep her gaze directed towards the rough wooden floor, she stooped down and gently retrieved the towel, offering it up to him. He seemed so much taller, now he was standing. She felt a little thrill flutter its way through her chest.

“There is a river nearby, just behind the shrine really, but I must protest you using it just yet. You’ve only just woken up, going for a swim is too dangerous, you’ll be weaker than you think. Please, sit, rest. You haven’t eaten since I received you…let me get you something.”

She glanced up briefly, before she could stop herself, before swiftly turning her head away. The urge was hard to resist. “When you’ve gotten your strength back up, I’ll be happy to help you down. Until then...I can er….I can bring you a sponge?”

Without giving him a chance to answer she turned, and attempted to hurry towards the door. She felt frustrated, confused, and ashamed. Why did she have to be such a babbling, idiot child? Before he had woken, she had pictured herself conversing with him, imaging her witty remarks, her soothing comments. She had been confident, erudite and charming. In her imagination at least. Here and now though, she wasn't even able to meet his eye.

 

[muscularguy4F]

It was all the former Lord could do to prevent himself from laughing audibly as he watched the young priestess scurry from the chamber. The whole encounter brought a little resurgence to his injured body, indeed he felt his manhood stir because of it. Yet again, the ease with which he could make her feel aroused and embarrassed about it gave him a surge of power. He looked down at the towel that she had passed up to him and discarded it on the floor

The priestess's footprints were still visible, damp patches on the wooden floor that lead out of the room. The shone slightly, reflecting the light from the room; to Jerred eyes they looked like a series of guarding stars.

He tested his legs, bending his knees and dropping to a squat position over and over. They weren't as strong as he was accustomed to feeling, but they were as strong as any normal man's. He smiled wryly. He wasn't sure why or how, but he had a gift for recovery; often healing faster and rehabilitating sooner than anyone could ever expect. Confident with his strength, he followed the route that Tayree had led from the chamber. Not wanting to sneak up on her, he moved quite deliberately ensuring each footstep was audible and he kept himself out of the shadows.
"Are you well, priestess?" He asked as soon as he was near her. "Do I scare or offend you?"

 

[Saezra]

Tayree felt a slight prickle along the back of her neck as he spoke. She did not turn, keeping her eyes forward instead. "N-not at all sir." She took a deep breath, urging herself to turn and face him. Slowly she did so, glancing up briefly to meet his eye, but otherwise looking directly at the floor. "You must understand, I am a priestess...my sect are not accustomed to being around men. I....would appreciate it if you remained clothed."

She folded her arms, forcing away the urge to look at his groin. "For now, I do recommend you head back towards your bed and rest. You're making a remarkable recovery, but I should really get you something to eat, and some more water perhaps. After that, if you'd still like to wash...I could bring you a sponge."

 

[muscularguy4F]

As she turned, Jerred saw a new side to the priestess. The nature of her initial reaction had been slightly predictable; she was nervous and if not intimidated, at least slightly daunted by the situation. But she seemed to have dug deeper, reaching for a new found strength and courage as she tried to take control of the situation. He was certainly impressed. But it took far more than that to worry him. He had been a Lord of War. He had led armies into battle, he had dined with Kings and Queens and he had tamed and claimed women far stronger willed than Tayree.

Without hesitation, he took a confident step forwards, closing the distance between himself and Tayree so that there was barely a pace between them. "I understand priestess, but you should also understand that I am not accustomed to being clothed around such attractive ladies." He looked her up and down appreciatively and reached out with a hand to gently take some of her robe between two fingers and a thumb as if examining the material. "Nor am I accustomed to they being clothed around me". He towered over her so he tilted his head down so that he met her eyes with his; a deep blue like a celestial body of water; and stepped closer, his naked body now touching her robes.

"I would respect your request if your actions supported your words. How can you ask me to be clothed if you have not brought me my clothes? They are not in here, so you were not fetching them for me." He said gesturing with his free hand to parts of the chamber in which they now stood.
"And do not expect me to cover myself with a garment that you yourself have gazed underneath" he added, referring to how the cloth that had been misplaced over his groin when he awoke.

 

[Saezra]

Tayree opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She trembled slightly before him. He was so close, she could smell his slight musk, feel the heat coming off him almost. He seemed so much taller, now he was directly above her. She gaped up, face burning hot.

It took every fibre of her being to bring herself to speak. The racket of the pounding in her ears, of the frenzied pumping of her heart, made her voice sounds strange and distant to her. "Sir-" she squeaked "I am a priestess...sworn to celibacy. Such insinuations a...are not appropriate. I request you step away."

She shuddered, forcing herself to plough on. As he stepped closer still she could feel his body...his cock...brushing against her robes. She visibly tensed, not daring to move her gaze away from his eyes.

"You...must be hungry. I'll get you something to eat, and your clothes too...if that's what you want." She finished, her voiced stilted and breathy.

 

[muscularguy4F]

"Such promises are easily broken." He replied with a glint in his eye, one hand placed into her hip, pressing the overly large robe against her body. "I speak from experience when I tell you this. And from experience I tell you that they are broken with great pleasure. You will find that worshipping a God of the flesh will bring you far more joy than worshipping one of the false gods."
His other hand also sat on her hip, between them he held her authoritatively, yet did so with no great force his mere confidence and presence enough to take charge of the situation

One hand traced it's path down her hip and thigh, feeling the shape of her leg. It was slightly more shapely than he had expected, though certainly not thick like that of the standard tavern whore. It had been a while since he had bedded a lady so young and lithe.
"I am indeed hungry. But my current hunger is not one that will be satisfied by bread or fruit or meat."
His hand, still exploring the shape of her body, uncovered the gap in her robe where the two ends of the fabric crossed and pressed through. His toughened, leather-like palm caressed the smooth skin of her thigh and he stepped forwards again, pushing her back to the cold wall behind her.

He grinned at her as his hand found no underclothes beneath her robe, just bare skin. He knew that in a temple such as this - with little air and no men - that it was common place, but still he teased her. "Sworn to celibacy yet you have no garments under your robe! Are you taking your oaths seriously?" His hand continued where it pleased, caring little whether she consented or not. Sliding between her legs, he found her bare crotch and his fingers moved slowly back and forth, her body moistening his fingertips
"Is this what I do to you priestess? Do I arouse you? Or does your God arouse you and keep you wet like this?"
He asked, knowing the answer all too well as two fingers eased themselves into her wetness

 

[Saezra]

Tayree gasped, her breath low and shuddering, but otherwise was silent but for her rapid, anxious breathing. She hadn't had anybody elses' digits inside her before, only her own. His fingers were much thicker, rougher. Where hers were smooth, his felt course, leathery, rough. She swallowed, suddenly she was unwilling...unable to meet his eye. She fixed her gaze on the floor, one hand shooting out to wrap around his wrist and pull his hand away. And yet she didn't, and her hand settled there, unmoving, but for the rapid trembling.

She couldn't remember a time she was this wet, this aroused. She ached. Still, her stomach felt full of butterflies, and the frenzy of their fluttering made her head swim. He was teasing her, she could hear him teasing her, but she couldn't think of a retort, or a protest. She tried to speak, but only a small grunt emerged, half way between a sigh of pleasure and suprise. She steeled herself, then tried again.

"But I'm a priestess." she managed lamely. Her voice seemed thick, distant. It didn't sound like her, to her ear.

 

[muscularguy4F]

Jerred ignored the pathetic, half-hearted pleas of the young priestess. He had experienced this all before and was all too well aware that she would put up a fight, if only to tell herself that she had tried to stop him. Her morals and teachings told her that she wanted no part of this. But her body, her very being, yearned for it.

He moved his spare hand up her body, pressing the baggy clothing to her flesh so that his fingers could squeeze and judge. It continued until his fingers were around her throat, gripping tightly enough to assert his power and dominance, but not so tight as to restrict her breathing. He pressed his fingers deeper into her wetness, feeling her body push against them. It was only natural, her body was not accustomed to this and his fingers, long and thick as they were, stretched her.

His cock throbbed and began to swell at the very thought of her young, tight, untarnished body. He could see in her eyes that while she wished to deny him, she wanted him. The two sides were at war within her. Both aroused him further

"Tell me little priestess, why did you look under the cloth that covered me? What did you think about?"