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His Redemption (TheCorsair and Xana)

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Aurianna couldn’t be sure if the fever was leaving her lethargic and disoriented or the heartbreak. The fever made more sense, of course, but the heartbreak was more poetic. Aurianna Kallekos, legendary Paladin warrior, died of a broken heart. Not of an infection. Not of a festering wound or an attack she should have been able to dodge, to block or avoid.

Pathetic, the dark part of her mind challenged. She was supposed to die on the battlefield. She was supposed to strike down a powerful foe, and give her life to save numerous others. Buy time for an escape or something. Instead she was numbly moved by her apprentice, hardly aware of her surroundings, or the pain of her arm dying. At some point, she was no longer walking, but lying on her back, in a bed. It only made sense to close her eyes.


“What’s wrong with her?” Clara shrieked, harrowingly aware her mistress’ state was deteriorating rapidly. “is the wound that bad?”

The Physiker looked down on the shivering women, who murmured nonsense, shuddered randomly and whose eys seemed to see the beyond, and only the beyond. Pressing a hand against her skin, the Physiker sucked in breath. “Her fever could take her, if we don’t act now. She needs a cool rag, on her head. And I need a bucket, to catch the blood.”

Clara moved swiftly, grabbing the needed items, drenching a rag to place against Lady Aurianna’s head. The Physiker grabbed the arm, turning it to examine the extent of the wound. Eyes caught on the scars there, especially around her wrist. He ran a finger down one, the one that had been opened several times, bumpy from old and new scar tissue.

“Has this happened before? Does she bleed herself already?” Physiker asked, looking up at clara. The girl froze, remembering the way her mistress had opened the vein, and fed her demon. She remembered how often that arm was wrapped, while they were at the temple, and realization hit her. She had been feeding Matthias the whole time. Was she fucking him the whole time as well?

“I...don’t know,” Clara whispered, borrowing her mistress’ ability to lie casually, just for the moment. The physiker opened the scar, squeezed the arm, watching as the black blood came out like sludge.


“I don’t understand why I can’t take my vows, Master. Justine took her vows, and she is hardly older than me!” Aurianna whined, arms crossed across her chest, kicking the dead imp body at her feet. Matthias wasn’t looking at her, investigating something on the ground by him. He only sighed an exasperated sigh.

“Ari, we have been over this. I will recommend you to face your trials when you are ready. You aren’t in competition with your friend,” he chided her, still not looking at her. Aurianna just exhaled hard.

She knew, vaguely, that this wasn’t real. That these were dreams or fantasies or memories, or one of those things that flashed before one’s eyes as they passed from this world to the next. Shivering and sweating all the same time, she could feel the heat and the coldness taking her. Competing over how she would end her existence.

“How am I supposed to prove myself when they send me on these stupid, easy missions?” Aurianna complained some more.

Matthias looked at her now, blue eyes furrowed in frustration. “Tell me, Aspirant Aurianna, what do you think is the point of this mission.” The tone he used, and the way he used her title made her cringe, reaffirming the difference in their stations. She wasn’t even a paladin, and was beneath him. She liked it better when he called her Ari, like her friends did. Using her title made her feel small, made her feel like a child

“I…” She wasn’t able to answer right away, just felt a wave of embarrassment run over her. She could feel herself turning red and the fact that he was looking at her, while she turned red from embarrassment made it worse. “It’s an investigation, Master.”

“No,” Lady Aurianna murmured, stirring, she head shaking form side to side.

“Shh, mistress, it’s okay,” Clara told her, reapplying the cold rag to her forehead. Clara pressed it down against her red skin, as the droplets rolled down the side of her face.

“Almost done,” The physiker announced, squeezing her upper arm now.


She had awoken, as the sun beamed down on her eyes, leaving her irritated. “Master?” she called as she sat up, rubbing her eyes, looking for him. Where was he? “Master?” she shouted a bit louder, standing now, stretching greatly. She walked a ways, remembering the pond they had passed. He was probably getting some water for the-

He was naked! In the water, with his back to her. Aurianna had nearly gasped as she saw him, coming her mouth to prevent the sound form escaping. She had seen him with his shirt off, a few times, but not like this. Not with water rolling down his well-defined shoulders, his muscles tensing and working just beneath the surface.

She had seen Jeoram, most of him, anyways, though not all at once like this. Besides, Jeoram didn’t look like that. Goddess, Matthias was a man. It was evident as she looked on, as she imagined herself slipping in the water with him. Splashing him playfully, watching as the water rolled down his abs and chest. Wrapping herself in his wet embrace, letting him kiss her, hard and deep like Jeoram did. She bet he could show her a thing or two about pleasure. Instead of fumbling about her body, like Jeoram.

Her hands slid into her tights, remembering what Justine had showed her, the other day. Fingers traveling down, finding her slit, seeking the sensitive nub just above the opening. “Master,” She moaned, as she slipped into her heat.



Scarlet blood dripped from her wrist, into the bucket with the dead blood. The Physiker nodded, a weak smile forming on his lips. “We just might save it.”

“Really?” Clara asked, wanting to hope, but knowing how fragile it was.

“Look, she tenses her arm, making a fist.” He explained, wrapping up the incision he had made. “She will need to bleed it offend. One a week at least, but possibly more, depending how deep the wound went. Otherwise, prayers, to Afodisia and Verrier, that she might yet keep it.” He applied a poultice to the wound on her shoulder, still cold and grey, but color was beginning to return. “You’ll want to stay with her, until the fever breaks. Make sure she eats well, when she wakes up. “
 
MFM Dream smut scene: Matthias, Aurianna, and Matthias' Demon
  • Index
    • "I'm afraid she can't stay, not now," Ingrud said, leaning against the door frame. "We need her now."

    "But Aunt Ingrud!" Clara protested, turning to meet her gaze. "Lady Aurianna..."

    "I'll have your cousin Elsa watch her," Ingrud stated. "She's apprenticed to Physiker Martin, and we need a Paladin now."

    Panic surged through Clara at those words. "I'm not a Paladin, Aunt Ingrud," she insisted. "I'm just..."

    "A young woman blessed by the Lady of Love and War, whi's slain demons," Ingrud interrupted. "Vows or not, you're the Paladin we have until your Mistress recovers." Her serious expresson softened, and her tone bjiecame bantering. "And you take after your mother. You may be all the Paladin we need."

    The mention of her mother sent a pang of guilt through Clara. Ashamed, she looked away. "I... broke her sword."

    "Really? How?"

    "Ah... fighting M.... fighting a demon." Trying to murder a demon.

    Ingrud tutted. "And you say you're not a Paladin. I'll have it reforged, Clara. But for now, come along - you'll need to tell the village council what you've seen."


    He had a weapon, now.

    Matthias had doubled back to the ferry, wanting to ensure that Aurianna and the girl had made their escapes, and had found a scene of battle. The rotting remains of two demons, one impaled on a harrow blade, sprawled amongst scorched craters and dried blood. The tattered remnants of the girl's jerkin lay on the ground as well. Was it she who had been wounded, or Aurianna?

    He used the jerkin to clean the harrow blade. Spears weren't his preferred weapon, but Mykel had driven him to learn them, along with sword and axe and mace. Then he stripped off his ill-fitting trousers, climbing down into the water. He was stained with black demon blood, and didn't feel like staying that way. He began rinsing himself off, until a voice gasping his name caught his attention.

    He turned to see Aurianna trying to conceal herself behind a tree, one hand down inside her trousers.     blinking, he shook his head. Where had that memory come from? He remembered it clearly, catching his Aspirant watching him bathe and mastrubating. He'd smiled at that, flattered and amused, and pretended he hadn't seen anything.

    Smiling, he emerged from the water. "Enjoying yourself, Ari?" he asked, slowly walking towards her. He stood before her, water trailing down his skin, grinning as she blushed and stared at his naked form. Kneeling before her, he raised her lips to his. "Why don't you come join me? I promise you'll enjoy it more..."
     
  • Index
    • Aurianna stirred, fighting to stay asleep, as the dream changed from memory to fantasy.


    "Why don't you come join me? I promise you'll enjoy it more..."


    “I…uh…I…” Goddess, was he really inviting her? He kissed the apprehension away, melting her in his warm embrace, his lips pressed hard against hers, opening her mouth with longing. Her tongue sought out his, sliding along the hot muscle, granting access to her mouth as she sought entrance to his.


    She had stopped fingering herself, when he caught her, but hadn't yet moved her hand away. The heat between her thighs grew searing, and wetter, as his naked chest pressed against hers, and his mouth tasted her. She was moving again, fingers filling her slit as he brought a hand down to cup her breast, filling his strong hands with her soft mound. Her nipple awoke to his touch, growing with excitement as he brushed against it with calloused fingers. The hand around his neck clung to him more tightly, as she fingered herself harder.

    He broke the seal of their lips, and she whimpered form the loss. He had his own plans, as he pulled her shirt over her head, his eyes moving down to gaze upon her bare chest. She blushed harder now, looking into his eyes as they washed over her bare skin, appreciating what he was seeing. He kissed her again harder, hungrier, as one strong hand moving down to join hers playing at her sex. She was moaning into the kiss now, working harder, feeling something powerful coming over her body. His hand joined hers now, a single thick finger pushing into her soaking womanhood, stretching her so pleasantly.

    “Master!” She cried, burying her head in his chest, her breath ragged and coming in gasps now. Her heart pounded, the blood racing through her body, a faint pink blush crawled along her complexion. She was tight around his finger and hers, throbbing way that made her breathless, and weak in his arms. “Master…” She exhaled, quivering against his touch.


    “Go on, Clara, tell them what you know,” Ingrud instructed her, as she brought the girl before the village council. Six men and women sat before her, their concerned eyes burrowing into her soul, seeking answers she wasn’t sure she had.

    “A force… flying the banner of Hydranes, the Mistress of torment,” She announced, realizing she hadn’t even seen it. She could only go by what Matthias had said, before…

    “Could you see the size of the force? What do we need to prepare for?” An older man asked, his salt and pepper hair slicked behind his head neatly.

    “I…” What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t answer their questions, she wasn’t a Paladin. She didn’t even know what the demons who had inspired her to attack Matthias were called, except, what had he called them? “…Dark Choir. They, they controlled us. Made us fight among ourselves. Ma…” She coughed, leaving that name stuck in her throat, “My mistress’ beloved didn’t make it. I am afraid he was the one who saw the force, and knew more about it. I… can’t help you much more than that.”

    “It’s okay Clara. Tell us about the demon you broke your sword on,” Ingrud continued, hands folded into one another.

    I just did, Clara winced at the question, “We fought succubi, just outside the ferry. One used spells, slew my horse. The other had a spear, and she poisoned Lady Aurianna. We were able to defeat them, eventually.”

    “Is the Dark Choir still approaching?” a heavy set woman with dark blonde hair questioned.

    “I…I don’t know. It’s hard to tell, when they are active. The thoughts are inside you head. It’s hard to ignore them, it seems so real…” Clara was shaking now, guilt and fear rising up as she remembered how close she came to killing Matthias, to hurting her Mistress. How close he came, to hurting her, his hand groping her roughly.
     
    Desire and amusement twinkled in Matthias' blue eyes as she moaned out the word "Master". His finger stroked deeper, exploring the liquid heat of her sex. "Only if you're in that sort of mood, Ari..." he murmured, his lips finding hers once more. Gently his tongue slipped into her mouth, thrusting and exploring with the same lazy heat as his finger.

    He broke the kiss, trailing little kisses interspersed with gentle nips down her throat. "Goddess, I love you," he whispered against her skin, biting just hard enough to leave a little mark on her collarbone. His finger slipped over hers, withdrawing from her channel to circle her clit. "I never thought you might feel the same."

    "I don't. I just want you." The new voice was Matthias' as well, but with a hard edge. It came from behind her, hot on the nape of her neck. Hands slid up her sides, cupping her breasts and squeezing them as a body pressed up against her back. The hands were ashen, tipped with blunt talons and conered with a fine pattern of scaled.

    "You are such a hot little whore," the other Matthias growled into her ear, grinding his thick cock against her ass as Matthias knelt before her, taking one of her nipples in his mouth as the other offered him her breasts. He circled the hard little nub of flesh with his tongue, then scraoed it gently wilh his teeth. "I'm going to worship you, Ari," he whispered, slipping his finger from her sex and undoing her belt.

    "I'm going to fuck you raw, bitch," the other Matthias growled, roughly pinching her nipples. His thick meat slid against her cheeks as Matthias pulled her pants down and kissed his way down her stomach. "I'm going to fuck every hole you have, make you into nothing more than a nasty little Paladin cumslut for my demon cock."

    Matthias' mouth hovered over her sex, breath cool on her liquid heat. "You can't just have one of us, Ari," he whispered, looking up at her as blunt talons scraped over her stomach and along her hip. "You have to take us both." His hands slid over her bare thighs as the scaled hand slid between them from behind. And you will, you cunt. Over and over again." A blunt-taloned finger drove deep into her, and Matthias' tongue slid over her parted lips to toy with her clit."



    The council looked at one another. "Well, fuck," stated a burly man with greying red hair.

    Ingrud chuckled. "Succintly, if not helpfully, said. Are we certain they're coming for Monsford?"

    "No," Clara said, choosing her words carefully. "But... well, this is the obvious choice."

    The heavy-set blonde woman nodded agreement. "Monsford is the only reasonable crossing for a dozen leagues along the Sarn. And if they're coming in force, we have to assume they're planning to cross."

    "Then we need to evacuate the noncombatants," Ingrud said, voice flat. "Send them to Kirstad, both for safety and to warn the capital. And the rest of us will have to buy as much time as possible for the Housecarls to mobilize."

    A grim silence settled over the room as, one by one, the councellors nodded. "And... we should send a messenger to... to..." Ingrud's voice dropped to an awed whisper. "To Fearfire. To carry word to Lord Verrier."
     
    “Goddess, I love you”

    The words damn near broke her heart. Hearing them drawn from his lips made her hopeful and mournful. It was what she wanted, all she had wanted for a long time. And yet, hearing them now, in the context of the dream, left her empty. It wasn’t real, could never be real…

    "I don't. I just want you."

    That was what she expected to hear from him. It was something he would say, even when she was awake. It was the Matthias she had, and even that was enough, for her, and yet…

    The man and the monster. The one who could love her, and the one that possessed her.

    "You can't just have one of us, Ari."

    She couldn’t. And moreso, she didn’t want just one. She needed both of them. There was a darkness in her, and whether it was put there by what happened to her, or awaken by it, it couldn’t be denied. It was who she was now.

    She moaned against heir dual attention, as it drove her wild. The gentleness of his mouth on her sensitive nub of femininity, the roughness of the fingers parting her slit. It was an all-out assault on her resistance, and the two easily assailed her, bringing down her defenses. They would have her, all of her, and she would have them, both of them. The one before her lied down now, looking up at her with love and worship. “Make love to me, Ari. I am yours.”


    “I am going to take it from you, slut, because you are mine.” The cock against her ass was a threat, and a promise. He yanked her hair, pulling her head back. Fangs dug into her neck, as his talon fucked her fiercely. Finally, he released her, pushing her down towards the other Matthias. She crawled over him, as he embraced her, pulling her closer to him. She moved down his cock, letting him fill her with his love, gripping her fingers over his shoulders as her body accepted him. From behind, she was pushed down, until her breasts flattened against his chest, and a second cock was brushing against her sex. The tip pressed against the tight ring of muscles, until the head popped into her. Beneath her, he moved, slowly, igniting her passion.


    “Give in, relax. I’m here,” Mathias caressed her face, while his free hand massaged her thigh.


    "That’s right, whore. Give it to me,” He snarled into her ear, forcing his length within her. Both men moved in her, overwhelming her with pleasure and pain, arousal and agony, until there was no distinction.


    “Matthias…” She cried out, as both parts of him had her, and took her. Loved her, and fucked her.
     
    Hands and lips traced fire over her skin. The demon wrapped a fist in her hir, pulling her head back and making an offering of her breasts to Matthias. He suckled them tenderly, savoring and worshipping their softness. Then rough scaled hands shoved her down, flattening her against him, and Matthias' tongue filled her mouth as the demon's fangs tore at the skin of her back and neck.

    They made love to her and fucked her in an asynchronous rhythm, the demon's meat mercilessly violating her ass as Matthias rolled his hips, cock rubbing against her clit and pulsing within her with every slow upwards thrust. "Goddess, you feel so good..." Matthias groaned. "You like that? You like taking me in your ass, you little whore?"

    Their rhythms synchronized. Matthias' fingers dug into her hips, bruising her flesh as his hips bucked and he drove himself harder and deeper into her heat. The demon slowed, deliberately dragging his length along the tight ring that gripped his lenght before pushing back into her. They alternated kissing her now, cocks never stopping as the demon's fangs pierced her flesh as Matthias' hungry mouth found hers, and then the demon's serpentine tongue fucking her throat as Matthias nibbled at her ear.

    "Close, Ari!" "Gonna fill you up, slut!" Their voices merged into an erotic chorus as man and demon becamecthicker and harder within her. "Fuck Ari I'mI'm..." The demon's hands flattened her breasts as he pulled her back against him, and Matthias' nails drew spots if blood as he pulled her down onto him, and both man and demon thrust hard and deep into her one last time. Inarticulate cries of pleasure tore from their throats as cocks pulsed and thick, hot seed spurted deep into her body.


    "How is she?"

    "Still sleeping," Elsa told the Council's messenger. "A little flushed, and warm to the touch."



    "I'll go," Clara said.

    "But we neec you here," the heavyset woman said. "To bolster our defenses."

    Clara shook her head. "No. One Paladin Aspirant won't change the outcome of the battle. But I've got the best odds of making it to the Mountain. And..." She swallowed hard. "And," she whispered, "if need be, I can be Monsford's Offering to the dragon..."
     
    Aurianna stirred in the aftermath of her dream, disappointed to find herself waking up and not in his arms. Dammit, where was he? Her man? Her demon? Why wasn’t he…


    Then she remembered. Remembered what happened yesterday. What he had done, threatening Clara, after she tried to murder him. She remembered what she had done, leaving him for dead without even a weapon to defend himself, as Hydranes approached. Was he…? The thought of him dead or worse seized her, filled her with sorrow. What could she have done? She couldn’t take him with her…


    You’re being too hard on him. He was under the influence of the Dark Choir.


    You’re being too soft. He deserved death, for everything he has done.


    You still love him. You should have forgiven him.


    He betrayed you! He warranted his fate.


    She thought back to the times he could have hurt her, and didn’t. Had chosen not to, despite his demonic nature. Why Clara then? Goddess, she could forgive him if it had been her, but Clara…


    Clara attacked him first…


    Clara was right. She should have killed him.


    Aurianna tried to sit up, as intense pain shot up through her right arm. She cried out now, looking down at her limb, remembering what else had happened yesterday. It was enough to bring hot tears into her eyes, as she lamented the loss. However, pain was a good sign. Pain meant that her arm still fought to live, that it wasn’t a dead organ polluting her body with disease. She tensed it, wincing slightly as she formed a fist . She flexed, moving it at the elbow, with considerable effort and soreness. Moving the shoulder did nothing, Using her left she lifted it into her lap, examining the fresh bandage on her wrist. It seems they bleed her, in the same place she would bleed herself for Matthias.

    “Clara?” She called out, noticing her dark haired apprentice moving in the other room. Except that, the girl who came was slimmer, shorter, with softer features. Eyes that hadn’t yet seen the horror that men could wrought.


    “Clara is busy, getting ready for her trip. I am her cousin, Elsa,” the young woman introduced herself, smiling warmly in her direction, “How are you feeling this morning?”


    “Like shit,” Aurianna admitted frankly, in too much pain to put on a brave face, “Where is Clara going? Without my permission?”


    “To seek an audience with Lord Verrier,” An older woman declared, leaning against the doorframe. She also looked like Clara, albeit, an older, experienced worn version of her. “ And once you’re able, you are to get moving as well.”


    “To join her? Aurianna questioned as she moved her feet to hang off one side of the bed.


    “No. To go with the rest of the noncombatants to Kirstad,” The older woman informed her. Noncombatant. The word felt like a punch in the gut.


    “Like hell I am. I can fight,” Aurianna, protested, jumping to her feet.


    “You can’t even move your arm,” The woman countered, “and the spear you brought is a two handed weapon.”


    “Give me a sword. I can fight with my left.”


    “With your off hand?” The older asked incredulous.


    “From what I saw you need everyone who knows which end of a sword to hold to fight,” Aurianna asserted, “I can fight. I am not useless.” The older woman just sighed.


    “Fine, you can stay if you are so certain to charge into your death, “ The older woman offered her hand, “Ingrud Kelvasdottir, Clara’s Aunt, and Mayor of Monsford.”
     
    Later...

    Clara opened the door carefully, peeking in. Seeing Aurianna sitting on the edge of her bed, right arm in a sling and examining a sword with her left, she softly entered and closed the door behind her.

    The room was simple, all whitewashed walls and sturdy handmade furniture. A dresser, a wardrobe, a single bed with a mattress stuffed with straw and a comforter stuffed with down and goosefeathers. There was simplicity in the design that was calculated to allow the beauty of the wood itself to shine through. Clara was dressed to match, wearing a dark skirt of homespun wool, and a white blouse and a brocade vest in black and gold. All in all, she looked every inch a farm girl from a successful family.

    The scabbarded sword at her side, and the hard set of her eyes, did not suit that impression.

    "You... you're looking better..." she managed, trying to play it cool. Then her lip trembled, and her eyes watered, and the bed bounced as she threw herself down next to her Mistress and embraced her. "Lady be praised!" she cried out, voice cracking with the emotions she was trying to keep in check. "I thought... oh, Goddess, I didn't know if you'd make it!" Sniffling a little, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then, suddenly, she released Aurianna and shifted away, staring at her arm in alarm. "Oh... I forgot. I... I didn't hurt you, did I?"

    Pensive, she sat and stared at her Mistress. Then she looked away, twisting the fabric of her skirt anxiously. "I... uhm... I... need some... some advice."

    Clara fell silent again, gnawing her lip. Finally, she continued, voice brittle with strain. "Monsford is... it's probably... possibly... uh..." She swallowed hard. "The demons are coming. And... and everyone's... everyone's going to... to... to fight. To try and... and keep them... them back. Keep them out of the Kingdoms."

    She fell silent again, wiping her eyes and struggling with her voice. "I... they... there's no... no way, you know? My fa.... my people, they're... they're brave. And they're good fighters. But... but that Host... it outnumbers them. A lot."

    Shaking a little, Clara wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "So... so I'm going... to the Mountain. To... to the Dragon. Lord Verrier." Her head turned away, eyes closed tight. "And I... I don't... don't know... if... if I'll... be... coming... back..." She began rocking back and forth, voice falling to a whisper. "I'm scared, Mistress."
     
    Aurianna was surprised to see her apprentice looking so…cute. She smiled warmly at the girl, unable to miss the pained look in the girl’s eyes.


    "Lady be praised!" she cried out, voice cracking with the emotions she was trying to keep in check. "I thought... oh, Goddess, I didn't know if you'd make it!"


    Aurianna held Clara against her, with her good arm, running fingers through her hair. “I guess the Goddess isn’t ready to bring me home yet,” Aurianna joked, sensing there was still something bothering her apprentice.


    "Oh... I forgot. I... I didn't hurt you, did I?"


    “Not too much. Besides, the pain means I stand a chance to keep it.” She tried comforting the girl, patting her hand gently. Still Clara seemed troubled, as she spoke about the desperate situation her home town was in.


    “But Lord Verrier… You said he protects the mortals of his lands,” Aurianna tried to reassure her, not letting her own fears come up now. This was a huge force, larger than she had ever seen come for the Seraphim Wall. Once more she lamented her weakness, unable to fight with her true strength.


    "So... so I'm going... to the Mountain. To... to the Dragon. Lord Verrier." Her head turned away, eyes closed tight. "And I... I don't... don't know... if... if I'll... be... coming... back..." She began rocking back and forth, voice falling to a whisper. "I'm scared, Mistress."


    “Clara, what are you talking about?” Aurianna asked, grabbing her apprentice tightly, feeling as though everything was being taken from her, in such a short time.


    “I am…The offering…for the …for Lord Verrier…” Clara explained, shaking hard, barely able to speak the words.


    “What?!” Aurianna was on her feet, “Clara, no! I can’t…NO!” Clara was still on the bed, lost in her own pain. “Clara I… I won’t let you! As your Mistress!“


    “Mistress… there is no choice. We won’t be able to hold back the demon’s host, not without his help. And that demands an offering,” Clara shuddered through the words.


    “Then offer me! The world doesn’t need me anymore, a broken Paladin,” and the demon’s whore.


    “You wouldn’t make the trek, in your condition,” Clara answered, coldly. And then she sighed loudly. “Besides, you can heal. You can be a great warrior again. Afodisia isn’t done with you yet, remember?” Clara tried to smile, but tears just fell from her face.


    “Clara, it’s not fair. You have so much potential, you would be great. Greater than I ever was…” Aurianna raged, angry that her injuries prevented her from sacrificing herself for her apprentice.
     
    "I need to kill something with some fucking pants," Matthias grumbled, hitching up the waist again. Still grumbling, he sat down and examined the leather of his stolen belt, then managed to gnaw a new hole in it with his fang. Tightening it down, he managed to keep the pants from sliding low on his hips. Then he spat, trying to get the taste of old, cured leather out of his mouth.

    Flies buzzed in the background, hovering around demon corpses as if trying to decide if they could be eaten. After he'd finished cleaning himself off - and trying to make sense of his increasingly odd erotic daydreams - he'd gone back on the hunt. Less than a mile from the river, he'd stumbled across three more of the Dark Choir. Striking without warning, he'd killed all three before they could attempt to warp his mind. The third one he'd drank down, filling the gnawing emptiness with bitter metallic blood.

    A shadow flickered overhead. Glancing upwards, Matthias reached for his spear. Three black-winged demons soared overhead, bearing wickedly barbed cruciform lances. The one in the tail glanced downwards, then cried something in a harsh voice. As one, the three banked left and circled back towards him.

    Matthias didn't wait. Seizing his harrow spear and coming to his feet, he kicked it into the air and embedded it in the the abdomen of the lead demon. She shrieked in agony, clawing at her guts as she tumbled from the air, and he lept to meet her. Kicking her own weapon away, he tore his spear from her body and drove it into her throat. Blackish blood gushed from her mouth and nose, and then she lay still.

    Something tore into the flesh of his back, ripping and pulling as he stumbled forward. He tried to sag to his feet and couldn't, hooked by the barbs in his muscles. He grunted in agony as the barbs pulled, trying to drag him into the air, and he forced himself to reach up and catch the shaft. Razor-edged ridges grated the flesh of his fingers and palm as he pulled, and he screamed in agony as he released it once more. There was time for a quick impression of flayed flesh and red-black blood streaming down his fingers to soak the earth, and then the other surviving demon swooped down at him.

    In desperation he tore himself from the barbs in his back, screaming in agony as he felt pieces of muscle and skin rip away. Dodging the other lance was more luck than skill as he stumbled and fell to the ground beneath the swing of the demonic weapon. His left hand closed around the shaft of the harrow spear, and his fangs bit through his tongue as he forced himself not to cry out as he rolled and slashed with the blade. The demons beat their wings, rising away from his strike.

    Concentrating, allowing his demon more and more control as he fought the pain and the injuries, he rose to his feet once more. "You bitches want me?" he laughed, voice becoming cold and inhuman. "Come on, then. I'll tear your wings away and fuck your corpses!"

    One of the harpies laughed. "We will take our time on you, little lust demon." Then she sniffed the air. "You stink of the War-Whore, demon. Perhaps our Mistress will wish to play with you, instead."

    Matthias whirled as a shadow alerted him to the motions of the other demon, and he lashed out with his spear. His tattered back screamed in protest, and his strike fell short. The winged demon's blow did not, and barbs embedded in his left thigh. She jerked at the weapon as she soared past, and he was torn from his feet and dragged behind her. Before he could react, the other demon's lance embedded in his ribs, and he screamed aloud as he was pulled into the air.

    Gasping in pain, wishing he could pass out, he watched helplessly as the harpies bore him west.
     
    Aurianna vented her frustration on a wooden training dummy. Or should would have been, if trying to fight with her off hand wasn’t creating even more frustration. Oh she wasn’t terrible. She was merely mediocre. Below average. The left arm was sluggish compared to its twin. It wasn’t used to leading, to driving the attack. When it followed its partner, and it thrived. But with her right arm hanging limply at her side…

    “I had heard there was a Paladin here, but I wasn’t expecting Afodisia herself!” A voice called from behind her. Aurianna sighed loudly, ensuring however was behind her heard it. She remembered the first time Jeoram had compared her to the Goddess. It was incredibly flattering, to the 17 year old newly vowed Paladin. Over the years he had used the compliment so often it had lost much of it power until it could only entice a polite smile from her lips. Hearing it now, from the stranger, grated on her.


    “You shouldn’t blaspheme. I doubt the Goddess appreciates the comparison to a broken woman,” She replied sharply, sheathing her sword for the time. She didn’t want to get the urge to stab some innocent bystander through. Or embarrass herself by trying to and failing. She turned to face the unwanted interruption.


    “Well, she wouldn’t have given you those eyes, if she did not want her children to see herself in you,” The older man teased, something twinkling in his worn blue eyes. Aurianna’s expression was not impressed, just stern. “Not a fan of flattery then?” He laughed softly, and sighed. Aurianna rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her boredom. This was slightly less frustrating than fighting poorly with her off hand. The man was certainly a strange case. Taller than her and thinner as well, he must have been well into his sixties. His hair was frayed silver, and probably hadn’t been brushed in months.


    “Shouldn’t you be evacuating?” Aurianna asked, leaning against a nearby post.


    “Oh no, I have far too much work to do to evacuate. Speaking of evacuating, what are you still doing here, broken Paladin?” He shot back of her. She stiffened at his remark.


    “I can fight,” she argued, clenching both fists, despite the pain in her right arm.


    “Oh like a green boy. Or girl in your case,” He laughed, a little too loudly to be appropriate, “Tell me, girl, you want to be really useful?”


    Aurianna scowled as he threw insults at her, hurt by their accuracy. And yet, his last question caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”


    “You don’t have to be broken. I think I could fix you,” The old man asserted, rubbing his chin. “Almost certain I could.”


    “I…don’t understand. Are you some kind of healer?”


    “Hmm? Oh no, nothing like that,” The old man laughed once more, as though her remark was amusing.


    “So…How could you help me?” Aurianna was feeling frustration replacing the brief tremor of hope.


    “Oh, well, yes, your shoulder is injured. Why wait for it to heal when you can just replace it?” he asked, as though his question made any sense.


    “I...uh.. .what?” Aurianna was almost out of patience.


    “I have a few pieces that I could imbed there, should return you to full movability. Then you could actually be an asset to my town,” he explained smirking slightly. Aurianna’s blank expression said more than she could possibly, so the old man, continued, “Follow me to my workshop, I’ll show you what I mean. I’m Otis by the way…”


    “Aurianna.”





    Hydranes stared down at the tribute presented to her, cruel eyes laced with a hint of curiosity. She was quite certain she had taken account of all the demons in the area, so an errant one was quite unexpected. She had him strung up by chains hooked into the meat of his arms, hang a few feet off the ground, currently.


    “What is Baath Me’el’s rebellious slave doing all the way out here?” She questioned. Before he could even answer, two of her servants drove heated rods into his thighs, preemptively ensuring his honesty. Once he answered, he was offered a freshly torn off human arm, it’s owner still screaming off to the side. Blood dripped off the limb, and Hydranes doubted that the demon would have the strength to reject it. Worse still it would active his healing abilities, which would be agonizing, giving the ongoing damage she was dealing to him. It was one of her favorite pastimes, watching a being crave the thing that was actively wounding it.


    “Where is that Paladin cunt I smell on you? Baath Me’el wants her back so badly. I have to admit, I really want to see what all the fuss is about,” Hydranes demanded almost casually. Another heated rod was thrust into him, his abdomen this time. A bloody foot was held just out of reach, dribbling its precious fluids on the ground, until he gave answer.
     
    Matthias felt no shame as he screamed in agony. He'd learned, a decade ago, that it actually made torture easier to bear. Slightly. And so he shrieked in anguish as iron rods pierced his thigh and pressed into his bones, sliwly heating them. "Killing... your... demons..." he gasped in answer to the Demon Lord's question. Then he retched at the scent of burning meat.

    Hydranes laughed, then gestured. Bloody meat was forced into his mouth, and he drank it down by reflex. His wounds spasmed around the barbs and hooks in his flesh, trying to heal, and he whimpered in agony as the wounds sealed and tore open once more.

    And then Hydranes asked about Aurianna. He went mad for a second, screaming and struggling against his chains, headless of the new injuries he inflicted. The hissing kiss of sharp, hot iron driving into his belly stopped him short. "Mine, bitch! She's mine! I'll kill you! I'll rape your corpse in front-!"

    The rant cut off in a high, keening wail of utter agony. The barbed spike in his gut twisted and pulled, and he screamed again as it tore from his flesh and dragged a perforated loop of intestine behind it. Laughing, Hydranes seated herself on a chair shaped from a living human body. "Oh, I do so love the strong ones." Negligently, she gestured at an attending demon. "Fetch the worms."


    "A dance?" Clara exclaimed, stunned. "You must be joking!"

    She sat at a kitchen table, knife in ine hand and a half-peeled apple in the other, staring at her aunt as if the older woman had grown a second head. Ingrud, not stopping as she peeled an apple as well, shook her head.

    "No. It's the way of it in Gulder." She tossed the peel in a bucket of scraps. "We celebrate the sacrifice. When your aunt Helga..."

    "There is an army of demons less than a week from here!" Clara interrupted.

    "When your aunt Helga was chosen as one of the two sacrifices to the Dragon," Ingrud cintinued, "the kingdom celebrated for a day. And here, we celebrated a week."

    "We don't have time!" Clara insisted.

    Her aunt's gaze was like steel. "We will not dishonor you or Lord Verrier, Clara." The gaze softened. "Besides, your sword won't be finished before tomorrow anyway. And we can't hurry the evacuation any faster than that. So you, young lady, are going to have a fest in your honor like it or not!"

    Nodding glumly, Clara looked past her aunt and outside. Already, workmen were erecting a stage in the town hall.
     
    “FUCK!” Aurianna screamed as Otis had her strapped down in his chair, applying the metal join directly to the bone. It was far more painful that the injury she had sustained to gain the wound he was trying to “fix.” And Fix was a rather appropriate term for it, as he used the same tools a blacksmith would use to fix one’s armor. As it turned out, his brilliant plan was to attach armor directly to the joints, enchanted by dragon magic to be under her control. A rather roundabout way to regain use of her arm, but what other chance did she have?


    “You really should try to stay still. And quiet. The procedure is rather delicate,” The eccentric craftsman chided her. Then he stopped for a moment, looking down on here, a curious expression on his face. “I forgot to offer you something for the pain, didn’t I?”


    “ARGH! Fuck! Yes! Fuck!” Aurianna cried out, aware of the cold metal bonding with the bone. Otis walked away for a moment, bring back a thick leather strip.


    “Here, bite down on this,” the artisan instructed, oblivious to to the incredulous look on his subjects face. Nevertheless, Aurianna accepted, screaming into the leather as he attached a bolt to her elbow.


    Later that evening…


    Clara stood stiffly as the festivities played out around her, fingers wrapped tightly to the wine goblet in her hand. Some people were feast, but Clara found she had no stomach for it, despite the days she barely ate as she approached her home town. The combination of her impending sacrifice, and concern it wouldn’t even be enough to help her hometown against the demons, made her vaguely nauseous.


    Oh she wanted to enjoy the party, the celebration thrown in her honor. But how could she? The demon host was approaching, even now. How could anyone enjoy themselves while death waited just outside the walls? So she just sipped at her wine, politely, fighting the angry tears that even now threatened tp come up.


    “Clara?” A voice called behind her. A voice that was familiar, just altered. Like it sounded different, the last time she heard it…


    “Sigurd?” Clara called, shocked by the man she saw before her now. He was two years older than her, yet while they were growing up, he was hardly ever as tall as her. Somewhere, in the past four years, he had shot up in height, now almost half a foot taller than her. His pale blonde hair was still as wispy as she remembered, but the rest of his features seemed sharpened, as the baby fat had melted away, revealing the strong jaw. His brown eyes were warm, as warm as his boyish smile. He laughed nervously as their eyes met, and she found her face growing hot.


    “It’s so good to see you, Clara,” He said, seeming to savor her name as it rested on his tongue. The way he said it made her shiver, wondering if he would call it out like that-No! stop, now isn’t the time for those thoughts. Just because it would be easy to get lost in his eyes, didn’t mean she should! “Are you…are you a Paladin now?” He asked, unable to hide the reverence in his tone.


    “I…no, I am still in training,” Clara admitted sheepishly, rubbing her neck as she did. Was he always so handsome, or was that new? Goddess, why couldn’t she think of anything else but how his mouth might feel against hers?


    “Would you care to dance? I understand if you don’t want to, but I was hoping…” He asked, his nerves coming through as he tried to frame the question appropriately. He was cute, like that, and she felt herself grow warm at the thought she could make a man stumble over his words. Especially a man as attractive as him…


    “I would like that,” she admitted, deciding to let herself get lost in the revelry, at least for one song. Lightning shot through her fingers as his hands interlocked with hers, and she wrapped her arm around his shoulder, shivering at the touch of his hand on her waist. She felt lighter than air, as he twirled her along the dance floor.
     
    There was cheering and shouting and stamping of feet as Sigurd escorted Clara out into the square. Her cheeks, already pink from his attention, flamed scarlet. Then the band struck up a lively tune, and the caller began calling the steps, and suddenly she was too busy to do anything but spin and twirl and try to keep up with the music. Soon enough, despite her fears, she was laughing and enjoying herself.

    From the sidelines, Ingrud watched her neice's obvious pleasure with a contented smile. Arms slipped around her waist, and a scratchy, stubbly face nuzzled the back of her neck, and she leaned back into a broad,strong chest. "You look pleased with yourself," her husband murmured.

    "Do I?" she murmured back, turning her head slightly to kiss him. "Must be because my nefarious scheme worked."

    Arthur watched Clara fall into Sigurds arms as the caller called out to swing partners. "Did it now?" he grinned, returning the kiss. "And here I thought your nefarious schemes involved gerring me alone..?"

    She ground back against him. "Not all of them," she purred. "Just most of them."

    Arthur laughed. "What would you have done if she hadn't been interested?"

    "I'd have sent him back round. This time with his fiancee," she answered, laughing. "Hell, if she's anything like her mother I might need to anyway."



    Clara flushed a little as she whirled into Sigurd's arms, skirts flying. His arms went about her waist, and for a moment all she was aware if was his strong, lean body hard against hers. Then she whirled out as they linked arms, spinning around one another.

    He was taller than Willam, she noted, and fairer. Not stronger, surely - like herself, Willam had received the Mantle - but older and better defined. She wondered what his lips would taste like, and shivered deliciously at the thouught of his erection in her hand, and felt heat curling in her abdomen as that thought combined with memories of Aurianna and the demon...

    That thought started to sour her a little, but then the music stopped. "Bow to the band," announced the caller. "And bow to your partner!" She did, and then froze at the final, traditional call of each song. "Kiss your partner!"

    Suddenly, Sigurd's arms were around her and his lips were on hers. Her hands slid over his back, and she gasped a little in pleased surprise as one of his hands cupped her rear and his tongue slipped into her mouth. She clung to him, suddenly weak-kneed, and little inarticulate sounds of pleasure escaped her. And then, frustratingly, it was over.

    "May I have the next dance?" he whispered, eyes twinkling.

    All she could do was nod. Eagerly.
     
    “Oh Sigurd, that is hardly fair,” Another familiar voice called out now, rich and playfully in it’s tone. A fire haired girl peaked her face around where Clara could see. “You can’t keep her to yourself all night.”


    “Thora?” Clara acknowledged, recognizing her as one of her closest friends, before she left for her training. Goddess, she had grown far more beautiful as well, her tight, lowcut dress perfectly suit to show off those lovely curves. Clara couldn’t help herself from getting lost in the rolling cleavage of her creamy breasts.


    “The choice is yours, of course my Dear Clara. Sigurd is a fine dancer, and I am sure you would have a wonderful time with him, but there is no need to limit yourself to a single partner,” Thora told her, her eyes suggestive, as though the word dance had many meanings in this situation. Clara’s only response was to blush heavily, and imagine her lovely friend pressed up against her, both nude as their soft forms moved along one another.


    “Well, Clara, would you like to dance with Thora this song? We could take turns with you,” Sigurd suggested, taking a few strand of her hair and sliding it along his hand. The idea made her shiver, before Sigurd continued, “I hate the idea of relinquishing you, but I think I would enjoy watching. In this case.” There was a sparkle in his eyes and smile as he spoke the words, as though he and Thora had some plan about her that Clara was not privy to.


    “I…would like that,” Clara confessed, remembering her fantasy of lying with Sue and Willam at the same time, tasting her friend while Willam took her. Only now, she could see Sigurd and Thora in their places, seemingly offering her all the pleasures a man and a woman could. She took Thora into her arms now, placing her hands on the girl’s slender waist, while Thora wrapped her arms around Clara’s neck. She could smell her soft scent, with their faces this close, their bodies this close, their breasts pressing up against one another’s.


    Dancing with her small friend was just as pleasing and dizzying as dancing with Sigurd had been, and she found herself looking forward to that last call, and pressing hot lips against Thora’s delicious mouth, tasting her tongue as it slid into Clara’s welcoming mouth. Except, she wasn’t just fantasizing now, as Thora’s hands caressed her face, pulling her into the delicate embrace, a quick, moist kiss and left Clara longing for more. She could hardly process the loss of Thora’s body against hers, before Sigurd stepped back in to replace it.
     
    FFM Smut Scene: Clara, Thora and Sigurd.
  • Index
    • The next few dances passed in a whirlwind blur for Clara. Her pulse raced, and she felt as if she were having trouble breathing, and she hoped it would never end. Sigurd and Thora had been her best friends, back before she'd been taken to the Temple for training, and it was wonderful to see them again! And they were amazing, Sigurd was so handsome now and Thora was gorgeous and they were kissing and Sigurd was letting his hands 'accidentally' explore her as they danced and Thora had 'accidentally' cupped her breasts when they'd spun together once, and damn but she was feeling flustered and hot and damp and...

    And now they were dancing a wild reel, all three of them, passing from one to the other with all of them and none of them taking the lead. Thora linked arms with Sigurd as they spun wildly, then he spun to her and they caught hands and raised them high as Thora slipped between them - taking pains to rub against both of her partners as she did. Then she turned, catching Clara's hand and the three of them moved together to the music before Clara found herself pressed against Thora's back and Sigurd's chest.

    The music ended. "Bow to the musicians!" the caller demanded. Giggling, the three managed to bow together without disentangling. "Kiss your partners!" Thora turned her head, finding Clara's lips as Sigurd joined them, and for a moment three sets of lips moved together in a dance as intricate as their steps had been. Hands moved over bodies as the kisses deepened and parted and changed orientations, and Clara was shocked at her daring as her own hands slid over Sigurd's rear and the skin of Thora's exposed cleavage.

    "Maybe," Sigurd whispered, voice thick and husky, "maybe we should go somewhere else?"

    Clara started to speak, then shuddered with delight as Thora's lips found her ear. "Somewhere were we can dance?" the older girl murmured.

    Nodding, barely trusting herself to speak, Clara managed to say "Yes" with a shaky voice. "I'd... like that. Dancing."


    Ingrud and Arthur watched with interest as the three teens made their way out of the square, hand in hand. "It's about time," he grinned, leaning into his wife.

    She laughed, slipping an arm around his shoulders. "You're not kidding," she agreed. "At the rate they were going, I thought they'd end up humping right there in the square."

    "What would you have done then?"

    "At a Sacrifice Fest?" She shrugged. "Hell, it'd probably have turned into an orgy."

    Slyly, he cupped her breast. "You say that like it would have been a bad thing..."

    Giggling a little, she slapped his hand playfully. "Behave!"

    He kissed her ear. "I am behaving..."



    The trio found their way to one of their old childhood hangouts, a low stone building built half-undeground. Once it had been a root cellar, but now it was used as a place to store sacking and sailcloth and nets and the like. As children, they'd played there at being kings and queens, or river pirates, or bold warriors setting off on a quest to slay demons. And for a moment, as Clara looked at the old boxes and heaps of cloth and the like, happy memories of those childhood games flooded back.

    Then Thora was kissing her, tongue slick in her mouth and soft breasts pressing against her chest, and all thoughts of children's games evaporated. Clara met the kiss as well as she could, exploring her friend's body with her hands. More hands caressed her shoulders and moved her long hair, and Sigurd's lips slid over the back of her neck as he pressed into her from behind. "Goddess, Clara," Thora murmured, breaking the kiss and begining to unlace the ties of Clara's blouse. "You've gotten so beautiful..."

    Clara shook her head. "No," she whispered, shivering as Sigurd pulled the tails of her blouse from her skirts and slid his hands over the bare skin of her stomach. "No I'm not. Not like you. I'm plain and flat-chested and..." Her voice died away as Thora slid her fingers over the skin of her small breasts, above the bindings that supported them.

    Thora kissed her again. "Hush," she whispered. "Tell her she's being stupid, Sigurd." Her fingers whispered over Clara's abdomen.

    "You're gorgeous, Clara," Sigurd murmured, slipping her shirt and vest from her shoulders. "Lovely little breasts like ripe apples in cream, and a nice, firm ass." He cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples through the binding.

    "I wish I had an ass like yours," Thora agreed, planting gentle kisses on Clara's throat and slowly working on the buttons of her skirt. "Tight and hard - mine's too big, even with all the work I do."

    Clara found the laces of Thora's dress, tugging at the knots as she rocked her rear back into Sigurd's hips and enjoying the feel of his erection. "Uh-uh... you've got all these curves, and I just look like a boy..." She kissed Thora back, tasting the traces of cider on her lips as she explored the wet heat of her friend's mouth. Then she sighed as Sigurd's hand slid between their bodies and cupped her mound.

    "No boy has beautiful little tits like these," Sigurd whispered, squeezing a breast gently. "Or a sweet little peach like this." His fingers pressed into her cleft, through the layer of her woolen skirt and her underwear, and she ground herself against his hand. "Does it taste as good as it feels?"

    "This is your night, Clara," Thora whispered, fingers trailing up Clara's sides. The skirt, unbuttoned now, slipped down her hips and remained in place only from Sigurd's hand on her crotch and the two bodies pressed against her. "And I'm going to spend it all showing you just how beautiful you are." She kissed her friend, biting gently at Clara's lower lip, and then gave her a devilish grin. "Should we let Sigurd join in? Or just make him watch?"
     
  • Index
    • With both of them caressing her skin, it was hard for Clara to think. To focus on Thora’s questions, to form an answers that were more than just “uhh,” or “ahh,” or even “hmm.” All she could process was the suppleness of Thora’s skin, the throbbing of Sigurd’s erection rubbing against her ass, the demanding fervor that consumed her thighs.

    “I want…I want…both, ahhh,” Clara tried to answer, unable able to help the greed in her words or tone. Dammit, they had been teasing her all night! How could she not want to feel both of them pressed against her, both of their mouths savoring her body?

    “You will have us both then, however you wish,” Thora promised, between deep kisses, helping Clara slip her out of her dress, adding it to the pool of clothing forming on the floor. Clara’s hands grew bolder, reaching out to palm one of her full breasts, feeling how it yielded to her fingers, loving how the nipple responded to her touch. “Who gets to taste you first? Who do you want to taste first?”

    Sigurd’s fingers still played at her slit, massaging her clit in a way that made thinking even harder than it already was. Clara leaned her head back against his chest, pushing her chest forward, lost in the sensation of their attention. Thora took this as an invitation, bringing her mouth forward to lick at Clara’s breasts. Clara’s only response was to moan, and run her free hand through Thora’s orange hair, letting Sigurd hold her up while she surrendered to pleasure.

    Sigurd continued to kiss her neck, the hot tongue running over the column of muscle, finding a vein to nibble on. Suddenly Clara was flooded with a vision of her Mistress, moaning happily as her demon bit into her, and drank the blood dribbled down. Clara couldn’t believe that Lady Aurianna enjoyed that, but feeling Sigurd work at her tender ski, alternating between the sharpness of his teeth and the soothing heat of his tongue drove her wild. Thora was similarly experimenting, licking sucking and even grazing teeth over Clara’s nipples.

    “Goddess!” Clara managed to cry out, shuddering as her two friends adored every inch of her body. She Pulled Thora away from her breast, devouring her mouth in a hungry kiss, sighing into her mouth as Sigurd slipped a thick finger into her tight channel. He moved slow, letting her juices drip down his finger, tracing her trembling lips before fitting the finger to the first knuckle, then the second before stopping.

    “Clara, is this…Is this your first time?” Sigurd asked, unable to contain the twitching in his pants. Thora broke off the kis,s trailing her lips along Clara’s cheek to her ear.

    “Yuh..Yuhhh…yes…”Clara groaned, part answer, part pleasured cry.

    “Oh, that simply won’t do!” Thora declared in her friend’s her, letting her tongue run along the outer earlobe. She pressed her body against Clara’s, each girl’s breasts and nipples rubbing against the other’s. “We are going to make love to you all night!”

    “Please…” Clara could only beg, taking advantage of Thora’s closeness to kiss her neck now, taking her pent up desire out on her delicate throat. The moans and sighs Thora were just lovely, and it drove Clara to greater heights, feeling the frantic heartbeat pulsing within her veins.

    Sigurd moved away now, as and much as Clara missed the heat of his muscles pressed against her, she was lost in the silky smoothness of Thora’s flesh to protest. She didn’t see him laying down some cloth, making up a makeshift bedding for the three of them to enjoy shortly.

    “Why don’t you to lie down, than we can decide who gets to do what to whom first,” Sigurd suggested, With arms around both women as they kissed each other. He took a deep kiss form each before releasing them to lie down. The girls lied in each other’s arms, freeing fondling one another, while Sigurd stripped out of his clothes. Clara gleefully drank in the deep indentations of his musculature, absently caressing Thora’s breasts and stomach and hips. She could feel her mouthwatering as he pulled down her trousers, his hardness spring out to meet her as soon as it was free form his clothes. Thora was Kissing Clara’s neck and running fingers along her stomach, her soft digits finding the sultry slit just begging for some consideration.

    “So, who gets you first, Clara?,” Thora whispered into her ear, as her fingers moved up and down her sopping sex.
     
    "Both of you," Clara gasped as Thora traced the sopping lips of her sex. "I... I don't know how -OH! - that would... would work... but... I waUUOOOHH... want both of you... my first time..."

    Thora glanced at Sigurd, thoughtfully eyeing his delicious nudity. "Both of us, hmm?" she purred, slipping her finger into Clara's heat and feeling her own loins pulse as the younger girl moaned in response. "I think I've got a few ideas." She slipped her finger back out, slick with Clara's juices, and sucked it gently. "Goddess, you taste good."

    Eyes dark with lust, Clara pushed her friend onto her back, kissing her desperately. Her tongue slipped and explored, tasting herself on Clara's tongue, and her hips ground against Thora's as she straddled the older girl. "Tell me about these ideas..." she murmured against Thora's skin, kissing her way down the pale skin of her throat. "How... would you both have me?" She slithered down Thora's body, moaning a little as her smooth flesh teased her skin. Lips and tongue traced the contours of her shoulder, her collar bone, and the swell of her breast before finding the hardened bud of Thora's brown nipple. She tensed a little as she felt Sigurd's hands caress her back and rear, then sighed and continued tonguing her friend's nipple.

    Sigurd knelt behind Clara, between both women's legs, teeth scraping gently over the smooth skin of her behind. "Well," he said, stroking her dripping sex as he nibbled along her thigh. "I could fuck you like this, while you ride Thora." His fingers parted her lips and his tongue slipped into her from behind. Clara threw her head back, moaning in pleasure as his tongue laved her clit and thrust deep into her soaking channel.

    Thora caught her hair, drawing her back to her abandoned breast. "Or, we could... oh, Gods, do that..." She took one of Clara's hands with her own, placing it on the unused breast. "Don't forget this one..." For a long minute she was lost in the pleasure of Clara's inexperienced but enthusiastic mouth on her nipple and her hand on her breast, and Sigurd's chin pressing into her sex as he lapped at Clara's slit. "We could... I could take you with... with my mouth... while Sigurd... fucks you..." He hands roamed Clara's back, scratching and caressing gently, reveling in the hard muscle beneath her friend's skin.

    Clara moaned again, feeling her channel clench around Sigurd's tongue. The memory of seeing Matthias fuck her Mistress with his tongue flooded through her mind, mingling with the sensations of Thora and and Sigurd moving against and within her. "Both," she moaned, remembering Matthias mounting her Mistress like an animal. "Goddess... both of them..."
     
    “We have all night,” Thora reminded her, “I’m sure we can find time do it all…”She groaned as Sigurd added two fingers to her pussy, fingering her in time with his tongue fucking Clara. The three moved in tandem, all working towards the same exhilarating goal of mutual satisfaction.

    Both women moaned under the attention of Sigurd who alternating and fingering and licking each one, until both were driven close to their climax. Clara wanted to Feel Thora’s release, so she brought her fingers down to her womanhood, fingering her while still enjoying the salty sweat flavor of her breasts. Sigurd focus his attentions on Clara then, using two fingers to gently stretch her in preparation to take him, while he kissed her clit passionately.

    “I’m…I’m cumming…AHHH! Clara cried out, her body trembling in sweet bliss.

    “Don’t stop Clara, I am cumming too!” Thora told her, as her fold tighten around the Paladin’s fingers. The girls kissed hard and deep, moaning into each other’s mouths as both shook with passion racing their bodies. Clara pushed all her euphoria into Thora’s cunt, hard deep thrust as her outlet for the powerful sensation of orgasm.

    Clara would have collapsed into her friend, were Sigurd not there to hold her up, pulling her back against his chest to let her taste her bliss on his tongue. His hands held her breasts tights, teasing the nipple as his tongue fucked her eager mouth. Beneath them, Thora shimmied into position, sitting before Clara with legs spread wide, playing with her own clit as she watched Sigurd and Clara kiss.

    “I want your tongue inside me,” Thora demanded, slipping fingers inside herself, moaning out her pleasure. Clara had no qualms with that, the sight of Thora’s slick nether lips too inviting to decline. She pulled herself away from Sigurd, lapping at the honey between Thora’s thighs, inching closer to the woman’s sultry core. Thora’s legs formed a hallway that lead directly to her hungry slit, and it was only inevitable that Clara might end up there. The taste of her friend’s desire was divine, and Clara ate hungrily, seeking her depths.

    Sigurd watched the lovely display before, hand stroking his own excited cock. He brushed it against Clara’s wetness, slowing collecting her longing from her blossoming lips, pressing the tip against her swollen clit. Gently, he pushed into her sex, groaning as her tightness enveloped him.

    “Goddess…” her murmured, eyes rolling in the back of his head as took him. He was careful, so careful, never dreaming of hurting the beautiful woman before him, wanting to bring her only pleasure this night. Clara cried out into Thora’s slit as she felt herself stretch around his cock, fingers digging into her friends hips as she tried to get a hold of the situation. Tenderly, Sigurd filled her with his adoration, and his cock, stopping for a moment as he met the resistance of her virginity. He moved against it a few times, easing against the thin barrier. Finally, there was but a moment of opposition, before her womanhood opened to him, accepting his length within her walls. “I Didn’t hurt you , did I?” He asked softly, not moving now, just feeling her body absorb him.

    “No,” Clara said, too lost in the musky aroma of Thora to notice any pain. Goddess, it felt good, to be filled by him, while his hands massaged her back and spine. Every twitch of his member sent lightning pulsing through her veins, leaving Clara humming against Thora’s throbbing clit.
     
    Sigurd's back and hips shook with the effort of restraining himself. He'd nearly cum along with Thora and Clara, and the feel of the Paladin's walls clenching around his length left him wanting to do nothing more than pound himself into her in a frenzy, finding release within her slick tunnel. He actually had to close his eyes, unable to watch Clara's tongue working on Thora's slit and not go wild. So he squeezed his eyes tight and concentrated on finding a steady rhythm within her. And with every thrust, he could hear Clara gasp and Thora sigh.

    Clara moaned against her friend's lips, tasting the musky flavor of her arousal as she explored the woman. There was no expertise in her actions, just lust and a desire to taste and feel her pleasure, and her mouth made wet, sloppy sounds as she probed and licked. Little cries of pleasure escaped her, making her tongue jerk and dance within Thora's cunt as Sigurd thrust into her. She slid her hands up the other woman's body, cupping and kneading her breasts in time with the motions of her tongue. "Fuck," she gasped, "Goddess, fuck me!"

    Thora spread her legs wider, giving Clara more access, and arched her hips against the Paladin's tongue. One hand stroked gently through the younger girl's hair, gently guiding her and encouraging her, making her moan with pleasure as Clara found the most sensitive spots of her dripping sex. She sighed, a wordless noise of pleasure as Clara's hands cupped her breasts, and her free hand fisted in the rough cloth beneath her body. "Mmmm... like that...." she gasped out, hips rolling against Clara's mouth in time with Sigurd's thrusts. "Goddess... get... get me off... with your... your tongue..."

    Clara's tongue moved faster, thrusting deeper and savoring Thora's depths. Aching with the slow-building need in her loins, she began thrusting back into Sigurd, impaling herself on his cock with every thrust. The feel of his thick cock stretching her walls and his head bumping against her womb broke her concentration, leaving her moaning and swearing gently against Thora's cunt. Dimly aware that the redhead's hand was spreading her lips and circling her clit, Clara tried to return her attentions to her friend and her delicious slit once more. Fingers tangled in her hair, pressing her mouth in to the other girl's dripping mound, and somehow she still managed to fuck herself on the cock buried in her as she slurped and licked.

    Sigurd couldn't take it, not any longer. His fingers dug into Clara's hips for leverage, and the sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the air as he abandoned gentleness and pounded himself into the brunette's slit as hard and fast as he could go. "Fucking good," he sobbed out, voice thick and harsh with his rising pleasure. "So fucking good! And tight! Fuck!" Clara threw her head back, moaning with pleasure, and the sight of her face glistening with Thora's juices in the moonlight made him take her harder and faster yet. Thora dragged her face back down, her own cries of building pleasure coming in time with the desperate motions of Sigurd pleasuring himself with Clara's tight sex. He couldn't speak any longer, just cry out as his belly slapped her ass and his cock penetrated her deeper and deeper. With a final wild cry, his cock pulsed within her walls and the heat of his seed flooded her womb.
     
    The three crumpled into one another as their orgasm took over, Clara resting her head against Thora’s pillowy breasts, perfectly suited for this very purpose. Thora planted lazy kisses on her forehead, brushing back her sweat drenched hair behind her ears. Sigurd lied beside them, wrapping an arm around Clara, kissing her to sample Thora’s desire on Clara’s tongue. He caressed her face, his dreamy brown eyes meeting hers, leaving her shuddering against her buxom friend.

    “You felt so good,” he whispered to her, breathing hard still.

    “Are you done Clara? You don’t have to be, just because he is,” Thora teased, pulling the younger girl to her mouth to kiss some more.

    “Hey! I am not done, just taking a break. After bring you both to orgasm, I’d say I deserve one,” Sigurd defend himself, sitting up on his elbows.

    “Yes, yes, you earned a bit of a breather. But I want to go again!” Thora announced, kissing Sigurd, nibbling on his lip as he tried to pull away to catch his breath some more.

    “Of course you do. You were on your back the whole time!” Sigurd smacked her thigh playfully. The couple laughed, and Clara felt jealous for a moment. It was just like Her mistress and Matthias, laughing together after fucking each other’s brains out. There was such intimacy between them then, and now too, between Thora and Sigurd, if made Clara’s heart ache. Thora caught the darkening look in her friend’s eyes, and chased the grief away with a swift smack on the ass. Clara squealed, pulled away from her troublesome thinking.

    “Why don’t you take a turn on your back, while I service you, then Sigurd can take a turn there too,“ Thora decided, sitting up with Clara. Clara wasn’t given much of a chance to protest, before Thora pushed her down and Sigurd pulled her down, both of them kissing her neck and fondling her breasts.

    “Afodisia…” Clara whimpered, closing her eyes, memorizing the feel of both of their bodies against her, both of their mouths devouring her, both of their hands feeling her. Thora moved down her body, her soft hands caressing her stomach and lower. Thora’s mouth was on her breast once more, and Sigurd joined her now, both of them showing her nipples sweet affection. Working together, yet apart was incredible, the different sensation of their mouths, one licking, while the other bit, and then one sucking while the other traced the areola.

    “Yes! Yes, it’s so good!” Clara exulted, arched under their tenderness, until she felt Thora’s feminine hands teasing her clit once more. “Oh fuck yeah!” She bucked her hips against Thora’s fingers, pushing two into her eager slit. Lubed with Sigurd’s seed and her own climaxes, two fingers moved easily within her, so Thora added a third, her thumb playing at the clit.

    Sigurd engulfed her mouth and her moans, as Thora moved lower. Clara felt her friend’s hot breath on her womanhood, three finger still stroking her , increasing in speed and strength, driving Clara mad with bliss. Sigurd moved down her cheek to her neck, lapping and nipping at her sensitive neck. “So beautiful Clara, I was so glad to have you…” He exhaled into her ear, as Thora pressed her three fingers against each of Clara’s silken inner walls, twisting more than thrusting now. The slim digit massaging her insides felt incredible, and Clara dug her nails into Sigurd as an outlet for her indulgence. Sigurd smiled at her.

    “Tell her you like that, Clara,” Sigurd instructed, teeth grazing her collarbone.

    “I..I like...that!” Clara cried out, grinding her cunt into Thora’s fingers and face, “So much! More! More please!!!” Clara begged, hips pumping against her, gasping desperately.

    Thora did as she was told, twirling into Clara’s depths, until the tightness became too much, and Clara gave into sheer nirvana. Thora sat up now, licking a finger coated with both Clara and Sigurd’s juices, and she brought a second finger to Clara’s lips, so she could taste too.
     
    Still panting with the effort of her release, Clara caught her friend's wrist and sucked greedily at her fingers. The taste of her pleasure and Sigurd's mingled, making her pleasantly-aching pussy flutter with desire again. Sighing, she collapsed back onto the sacking and Sigurd's warmth once more. "Thora?" she asked, watching as the redhead crawled up beside her. "Can... can I ask you something?"

    Lazy hands caressed her body and she returned the favor, exploring the newly-familiar shapes of her childhood friends. "What is it?" Thora asked.

    Clara closed her eyes, sighing as Sigurd gently bit her shoulder. "Why... why aren't you jealous?"

    "Because she's gotten off as many times as you have?" Sigurd teased, squeezing her thigh.

    Clara rolled her eyes and slapped at his hand. "I'm serious!"

    Thora's arms slid around her, pulling her into an embrace. "Because we agreed," she whispered. "I'd have been furious if he did this without asking me first."

    Sigurd snuggled into Clara from the other side, one hand catching both her's and Thira's. "It was even her idea, when we found out who the fest was for, and why."

    Clara thought about that. "But... what if I didn't... uhm... like men? You know, that way?"

    "Then it would have just been us girls all night," Thora whispered with a devilish gleam in her eyes. "And Sigurd here would have jerked himself raw watching."

    "No I wouldn't have!" Sigurd insisted. Both girls gave him a the same dry, skeptical look, and he sniggered. "A little oil in my hand would have kept me smooth and supple."

    Clara snickered first, and soon both girls were laughing. Then, with a sudden hungry look, Thora slud over Clara and pushed her fiancee on his back. "I am, however," she growled, kissing her way down his chest, "a little jealous of the fact that this thick cock hasn't been in me, yet." She moved down between his thighs, gripping his semi-hard length with one hand and wrapping her lips around his head. Clara watch with hungry fascination as his cock began to stiffen and her mouth swallowed more and more of him. Then, with a soft pop, his meat slid from her lips. "Well, Clara?" she asked, looking up. "Aren't you going to help?"
     
    Clara crawled over to Thora, as she threw lips to Sigurd’s cock. Clara brought her head low, licking up from the bottom of the shaft with timid motions, Sigurd’s moans driving her to go even bolder. The aroma of their shared desire was enthralling, and Clara found herself kissing up his length, drinking in the fragrance. When Thora came up off him again, Clara brought her mouth over to replace hers, wrapping her mouth around the bulbous head and licking just under the crown.

    She liked the way Sigurd threw his head back in elation, as she teased the tip of his meat with her virgin tongue. Thora took up her job now, licking and lightly nibbling on the sides, tracing the veins with a warm wet tongue. Clara pushed more into her mouth, filling the sultry orifice with as much cock as she could handle. Long strings of saliva stuck to him as she pulled off once more, Letting Thora plunge him back into her more experienced mouth. Both Girls kept up this pattern, licking and sucking, never leaving Sigurd dick exposed to the night air for too long. He was clean, and hard and throbbing as both women licked his in tandem, two pairs of hungry eyes looking up at him while they coated his member in saliva.

    “We better stop, before he blows his load like this!” Thora declared, biting into his delicious hip bones.

    “Why, you can just start over if that happens! I promise I won’t mind,” a panting Sigurd assured them, unable to resist thrust himself at the took women showing love to this manhood. Clara grabbed onto him now, stroking him the same way she had stroked Willam in the Cathedral, feeling the blood pump into Sigurd’s cock and get him even harder. “Goddess, you are strong!” Sigurd exhaled, clenching the improvised bedding beneath him.

    Thora stood now, over his pulsating cock, spreading her lips as she engulfed him in the liquid heat of her body. Clara watched in awe, learning all sorts of new information this evening. Women can be on top, she nodded approvingly. She kissed Thora as Thora rested for a moment on Sigurd girth, groping at her friend’s plentiful breasts. Thora began to move, slowly at first, rolling her hips along her fiancé’s . Clara took notice of the small, smooth motions Thora did, and how each of them sighed longingly from the pleasure of it. Clara could have masturbated, but she was tender from all the attention she had already received, so she just observed, enjoying the show and the lesson.

    Sigurd’s hand clenched Thora’s hips, bridging his hipbones to seek the depths of her heat. Thora came off a bit more, revealing the sight of her slit devouring his meat. It was a wet resonance, as Thora sheathed him, and Sigurd filled her, Thora bucking him harder, riding him like a prize stallion, digging her nails into his chest as the fucking grew hotter.

    “Fuck me!” Sigurd told her, pleaded, gasped. Thora smirked, slamming her fat ass into him causing him to quake in exultation. Her breast bounced wildly as she rode him for all her was worth, and she grabbed his hands to cup and support them, so she could focus on milking his cock dry. Both of them were crying out for release, deep grunts of exertion escaping Thora’s lips. She threw her head back, mouth open wide as she praised the Goddess, Lord Verrier and everything else remotely sacred. Sigurd joined in her religious enrapture, pumping his seed into her, spraying her walls with the proof of his love. Thora tumbled down into the waiting arms of her friends, kissing both of them lazily as she tried to catch her breath. Clara found a comfortable place on Thora’s breast and fell into a blissful sleep, Sigurd and Thora not too far behind.
     
    Matthias hung in the frame, body limp and head sagging against his chest. Blood, his own black blood, covered his chest and limbs, obscuring the network of partially-healed wounds tracing the planes of his muscles. Even hanging limp was no relief from the agony, as he was supported by hooks anchored in his ribs and his forearms and lower legs. The scent of cooking flesh, his own, wafted through the air as the coals beneath him burned his skin.

    The frame rotated. "Now, Matthias," asked the Demon Lord Hydranes, "where is Baath-Me'el's plaything? I wish to look upon her."

    "I... don't... know..." The voice was harsh, ill-suited to human speech.

    Almost lazily a whip cracked, barbs in the ends tearing flesh. "Then where do you believe she went?"

    "Monsford. That... was our... destination..."

    Hydranes leaned back, gently caressing the arm of her throne - a hideous mound of chitin and scales and talons the color of corpses and ash. "Ah, what a coincidence. That was, I believe, our destination as well."

    The throne stirred, and a slitted eye the size of a shield opened to regard her. "Then, my love, shall we march?"

    She laughed at that, rubbing back against a seat that seemed to resolve itself into a scaled limb. The metallic plates of her ruach armor screeched and scraped against the adamant scales. "Bored, my darling?"

    "I grow weary of inaction."

    A mailed fist caressed a ridge of exposed bone above the great eye. "You must be patient a little longer, sweet Yarost'cherv. It pleases me to have this Aurianna brought to me. To spite Baath-Me'el, and to spite the War-Whore herself if I may." She kissed the scaled lid, exploring the warty protrusions with a tender tongue. "And there is Verrier to..."

    "Verrier? Bah. Do not speak to me of the runt of my clutch." The ground shook with the rumble of dark laughter. "I will deal with him, should he dare to face us."

    Hanging in his frame, Matthias watched with blank, dead eyes as Hydranes' stripped her armor away and spread herself for the dripping tongue of the misshapen dragon...


    Dawn...

    Clara shivered in the grey light of the early morning, longing with all her heart to be back in her old hideout, snuggled into the naked bodies of her friends for warmth. Accustomed to the discipline of the Temple she had awoken with the first glimmering of dawn, and had carefully disengaged herself from the limbs and bodies of Sigurd and Thora. Carefully, working not to wake them, she had kissed each one gently on the forehead. She didn't weep as she gathered her clothes and dressed hurridly, but even now she mourned what might have been.

    There hadn't been time for the village smithy to forge a new breastplate to replace the one she'd lost battling Matthias, but she had been able to fit a brigandine to her, and provided her with an oak shield bound with iron. More importantly, in Clara's mind, her mother's sword had been repaired. She was going to her death, but at least her mother's spirit would travel with her.

    "Clara?" Her Aunt Ingrud drew near, and she busied herself with checking the saddle belt on the chestnut gelding she'd been given. "I... brought you something."

    She turned mutely, not trusting herself to speak. Her Aunt held out a bundle of cloth. A tabard of grey wool, embrodried with the shield of Afodisia. But instead of the familiar golden sword wreathed with roses, it bore two intertwined dragons - one of mixed black and red threads and the other of mixed silver and gold. "What... what is it?" she asked.

    "Your mother wore it," Ingrud said. "She served the Lord of Fearfire and the Lady of Love and War as well. I was going to give it to you, when you were ordained. But now..." her voice broke. "Now..."

    Unable to hold her emotions in check any longer, Clara fell into her aunts arms and sobbed. Her aunt held her close, serving as a comforting presence until the girl's sorrow was spent. "You... you don't have to go, Clara," she whispered.

    "I do," Clara answered, wiping her eyes and shrugging into the tabard. "Look after my Mistress, please? Until she is well once more? And... and... tell Thora... and Sigurd..." her voice cracked again, and she couldn't continue.

    "I will," Ingrud told her, watching in pride and fear as her niece mounted her steed and slowly rode towards the western gate. "I will..." Only when Clara was out of sight did she sink to her knees and shake as sorrow wracked her body. "Oh Gods," she prayed, "watch over Your servant, and bring her back safe. I beg you."
     
    Aurianna woke stiffly, vaguely concerned with the strange workshop she had fallen asleep in. She didn’t remember going to sleep, and least not willingly. As she rubbed her eye, cold metal greeted her, shocking her far more awake. She looked down at her right arm, now encased in metal armor that was tight against her skin, and not unlike plate mail. Mostly, was amazed at how easily she moved it, as though it were part of her body, and not a bizarre prosthetic bracer.

    “Oh, good, you awoke. I was half worried the pain overtook your will to live. Just about to call the Physiker Martin in to check on you.” His aloof tone did not suit her, but she was grateful that his crazy plan had managed to work. “I altered the armor you brought with you, to wear it with your new addition. Put it on so I can make the last minute alterations.”

    Aurianna didn’t argue, too pleased with eh ease with which the new limb moved, not finding any trouble donning her gear. Otis put on the finishing touches and handed her the golden spear. Aurianna tried a few maneuvers, excited by the new found strength and speed her was able to harness.

    “I can’t believe it worked, Otis you crazy bastard!” A familiar voice called form the doorway of the shop. Aurianna Turn to see Clara’s Aunt Ingrud standing there, a pleased smile plastered on her face.

    “And the first time I tried it on a human! I must be getting better! The old man laughed hard, so hard he began coughing. Those words did not soothe the Paladin, but she shook away the dread. However stupid she might have been with agreeing with this experiment, it had paid off. Her impulsiveness might get the better of her someday, but not today.

    “I want to go to Fearfire. In place of Clara,” Aurianna demanded, holding her spear at her side.

    “Not going to happen,” Ingrud declared, standing firm against Aurianna. “We need you here, storing up our defense. My people need to see you, fighting like the Goddess upon high.” Aurianna scowled and sighed, knowing her vows required her to stand in defense of mortals against the demons. If she disobeyed and followed Clara, she was liable to lose her divine gifts.

    “Is there a reason you are so eager to die? Is it related to the lover of yours that Clara told us didn’t make it?” Ingrud prodded, striking Aurianna at her core. Denying it would be pointless, as her concerned features spoke the truth.

    “Matthias… We had to leave him behind. He was driven mad by the Dark Choir. It would have been too dangerous to bring him here like that,” Aurianna explained, guilt gnawing at her.

    “So, you don’t know that he is dead,” Ingrud clarified.

    “And if Hydranes has him, he probably isn’t yet. Though I am sure he wishes he were,” Aurianna continued, fingers digging into her palms. Ingrud noted her struggling within herself.

    “Well, we need a better idea of what it is we are dealing with. I imagine scouting our enemy’s holdings is an appropriate task for a veteran Paladin? Maybe you get close enough to where he is held to free him, whatever is left of him anyways. Or give him some mercy, if it comes to that.” Ingrud suggested, sizing up the woman before her. Aurianna stiffened at the mention of mercy, but she knew what would have to be done. “I’ll have five of my best scout to assist you within the hour. Just don’t get yourself killed recklessly.”

    “Me, reckless? Never,” Aurianna replied with a dark grin.
     
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