by Philip Read
Chapter 11
Asriel
The room is warm and well ventilated by the open window. The floor is laminated wood and furnished with wood as well. She leads me to the bed and I sit as she moves to a dresser against the wall and removes her earnings and bracelets. I remove my boots, already semi erect despite my misgivings.
Sleeping with dryads is very nice and all but It’s very tiring. It’s been a while since I’ve had a woman to myself for the entire night. Many years in fact, the last time being at the Brothel before taking my vows of Chastity.
Crysta places candles at certain places around the four pollster bed with green, white and red linens. I only notice as she places each candle that there is a magic circle under the bed that each circle aligns to. I use spacial awareness in case I miss anything else. The circle I’m not sure what it does but I’m confident in my defenses if she tries to attack me.
Though I doubt those are her intentions. The room is actually bigger that it looks, enhanced somehow by magic I know Zhen has no access to. There is a room here that isn’t visible from the outside, nor from the inside even. A very strange thing to have but sorcerers are known for wanting to work in seclusion.
She lights up an incense burner of sage and something else. Then removing her shoes and moving to the bed. I pull her closer gently and kiss her forehead, her cheek, her lips. Her arms go under my tunic and up my back. Her hands are warm and small.
I kiss her deeply as I undo her buttons of her shirt. Her small fingers deftly unwrapping the sash around my waste. I reveal her shoulder and kiss her warm skin from her neck to her shoulder. Her large breasts are held up by some sort of support brace that cups them up from underneath, making them purker and display her ripe nipples. Its ingenious really.
I feel her breast in my hand as I keep kissing her. Sensitive to any and all her movements and sounds to gauge what she enjoys most. Her head is arched back giving me room to her neck so I know she likes my tongue exploring here.
Her breathing increases as I flick her nipple so I know she’s sensitive there. I stand as she pulls my pants off, revealing my hard erection for her minister and she takes it in hand without hesitation. This isn’t some blushing dame. This is a real woman that knows what she wants.
Our lips meet again as my hands explore her smooth skin. Her soft belly, her generous thighs. Her pants go down as I push my hands into her behind. Cupping her bum cheeks and fondling them. She presses her groan hard into me and grinds gently, slightly moaning as I bite her neck.
The contraption under her breasts is released and the fall into my chest in all their glory. I fondle them and pinch her nipple until she’s grinding persistently into me, little mewing sounds coming out of her.
By the time we are both naked and I have her on the bed prostate she is on the cusp of her first climax and thoroughly wet and sticky. Keeping one hand on my cock constantly as the other roams all over my body. The size difference of her small hand on my hard cock is encouraging.
Traveling with Hiro and seeing how well endowed these tribesmen are isn’t a good confidence booster. But I received my sexual tutoring from the best of the best. The men and women of The Brothel. A cult dedicated to a goddess of lust, passion and fertility. I spent a month in their tender care as part of my training before taking the vows of the Chaste.
You cannot give up sex if you have no true concept of what you’re giving up. Many that spend their month there end up not taking their vows.
I kiss and bite all of the areas I’ve identified as sensitive on Crysta. Training her subconscious to associate my touch and bite with pleasure. Making her malleable to my every suggestion. A nudge to raise a leg here, a pull to fave forward there. And reward her every acquisition with pleasure and attention.
I keep her at the peak for over 15 minutes, making her quiver with bottlenecked pleasurable pressure and frustration. Her eyes are begging and her moans are deeper and louder. Our bodies sweating together before I even penetrate her. Before I have touch her soaking wet cleft between her thighs.
Her body is full of bite marks by the time my head gets closer to her warm cleft between her legs. Her skin pink but the marks disappearing rapidly as I make more. I bite her inner thigh and she spreads her legs wide as she moans and unsuccessfully tries pulling my head to where the pressure is, the exquisite pain is.
I bit higher up her thigh and deeper and she cries out, nearly climaxing as she feels my breath on her opening. It quivers in anticipation, spewing the clear thick nectar of life. I hold down her hips roughly and lick her cleft from bottom to top hard.
Her body seizes and shakes uncontrollably as a faucet is open in her sex. Gushing out her nectar uncontrollably. I lick again between squirts and her hand tried to push me away and she seizes again, and again as I repeat myself. Crying out loudly and begging for me to stop as she turns into a puddle.
I eventually do though, the line between pain and pleasure reached. My cock is throbbing and wet with my own semen. Yet to climax but spewing out it’s own lubricant excessively. I really enjoyed that. Crysta is lying on the bed prone and breathing deeply. Her eyes half closed and her face and chest flushed.
“That was the best I’ve ever experienced.” She says dreamily.
“That’s great praise coming from a woman of your beauty and age. Thank you.” I say taking the compliment and shifting forward to take advantage of her while she’s still plaint.
I have her between my legs and lean forward as though I will sit on her chest. She looks up at me as my cock reaches her face and bumps her lips. She licks them on reflex and then opens her mouth. I enter her warm lips gently and let her suckle for a little while while I watch her face.
I love watching beautiful women fill their mouths like this. I had tried to make myself forget, for the path of chastity isn’t an easy one. Even touching myself was forbidden.
I start moving in and out gently, after such a long buildup it doesn’t take long before I give her the signal with a grunt and am pleasantly surprised when she sucks harder. I grunt again and push in deeply one last time before spilling all over her face and in her mouth. I sigh contently as she pulls me back in and cleans my pipe thoroughly.
I pull out and use the bedding to wipe her face before kissing her deeply. She grins at me feeling my still erect cock in her hand.
“You can still go on?” She ask between licks of my face. To give a woman unimaginable pleasure is to bind her to you for life. At least that’s what one of the priestesses told me.
“Yes.” I say. Wholesome body, a skill I received through the path of Chastity making itself known. There are benefits to sacrifice, its all an investment. What’s 70 years with out sex if I get to be very good at it after.
“Good. I have friend that would like to come out and play.” Crysta says as her eyes change before me and I feel the circle activating. Her iris becomes a horizontal slit and her canines become slightly longer.
“Let’s see how much you can take.” She says in a different but very beautiful voice and kisses me again. She even tastes slightly different.
I pull her closer after my initial surprise, understanding why Zhen thought I needed luck.
It seems I’ll be pleasuring two women tonight. One a spirit, the other a woman of flesh.
Chapter 12
Sachihiro
I dance the dance of death with the other half of my soul. Communing with her as I never have before in a partnership of equals. She leads, then I lead, she hums within my head happily as I pull her close and spin around effortlessly. She is the perfect partner, finishing my moves for me. Being there when she is needed, a constant support.
Our dance is effortless and seamless, moving as though we were one person learning certain things the other is better at, learning each other’s current limitations. I’m having fun, this is play and it is amazing. Moving through the 36 forms like I never have before.
Why didn’t I understand before? The forms are fluid, ever chang
ing and making new things. Like alphabets, though there are only 36 of them they can combine to make thousands of words with many meanings. Combine those words further and you get entire sentences, extracting more meaning from suck basic building blocks.
So to are the kenjutsu forms as I move through them. Never just linear from one to two to three. But making my own words, my own meaning, conjoined with my partner that saw this before I did. I show her things too, I share with her pain for a blade has never known pain.
I share despair, betrayal, determination and with a thought of Saya I share love and something to fight for. We move from stance to stance, cutting ‘phantom’ opponent’s and getting a better understanding of our limits. Yes, how could I have missed that my beautiful monster is feminine.
Never have we been this close and I take the reigns suddenly, I lead the dance, she a tool in my hand. I start making mistakes but I press on teaching her frustration and helplessness. She lashes out at me somehow, psychic pain cutting into me but also into her.
We are one, even with me in the lead. We dance this dance of dominance for a while. Me taking over and her taking over, the combinations not as fluid, the dance not as deadly or fun. My body tiring, but that’s academic because my soul can continue. We eventually reach a stalemate where only together can we truly be whole.
And through this agreement something clicks within me, something just makes sense, and I suddenly understand the difference between kenjutsu, the art of the sword. And zanjutsu, the art of the soul-sword. Through this agreement I’m no longer just a swordsman, but now I’m a soul-swordsman.
My spiritual pressure increases as though from an outside source, I can feel the pressure of my spirit filling me physically. Filling my zanpakutō causing it joy and contentment. Just because she is a weapon, it doesn’t mean it’s only through death that she can find joy, that I can find joy, that we can find joy.
My spiritual pressure stabilizes and condenses, becoming less flashy, less active, less visible. But denser, with more depth and utility. This is the difference between a samurai and a soul samurai. Not different forms or skill levels, but a difference in spiritual depth and a connection with the physical manifestation of ones soul that brings enlightenments.
*
Om
I watch as Sachi unsheathes his long, shiny curved blade. It looks beautifully well made, and I can see the difference in the metal of the cutting edge and the rest of the sword. Sachi isn’t so tall that wielding such a big sword should be effortless but he carries it like it is.
There is no awkwardness at all or need to compensate for the size of it, or shape. It must be because it is a bound weapon. Spiritual weapons are very attuned to their wielders. They carry and use them seemingly effortlessly.
I am yet to get one though almost all the warriors that have proven themselves in battle have at this point. I’m a hammer user though, its my favourite weapon but it takes too much metal to make. Axes on the other hand are much cheaper, not even the entire axe head need be made of celestial ore for the weapon to be a bind-able, scalable spiritual weapon.
Sachihiro takes a stance I’ve never seen before. Huge ass sword held one handedly up above his head. Point facing forward, blade facing upward, one leg and arm forward. Standing slightly sideways as though facing an opponent with his side forward.
We all look at him with bated breathes. There is a seriousness to this moment, a depth of something… I look to the crazy old hermit sitting there looking nonchalant with his wolf sitting beside him looking all innocent. I discount nothing the crazy man starts anymore. A simple fight turns into a night of debauchery and shape shifting. I take nothing for granted-
Sachi moves and I immediately regret not seeing that first move because the second is sublime. His blade cuts the air in an arc as an underhand stroke that stops at eye level rings through the night. But even as if the blade is static, his body is mobile twisting in a way that makes no sense until I realise there is a sword that’s going to land not a kick or a punch.
Then another move that makes no sense until a foot flies where a head would be. His moves compliment each other. One leading to another leading to another. His centre of gravity either a suggestion he disregarded or constantly moving around his hips. In complete contrast to my more solid style his feet are hardly ever on the ground at the same time.
And if they are one of them is on the toes or the heel. His blade a complete extension on himself. Even when I’m sure he’s about to cut himself the blade hums as it cuts through the air.
I have never seen a Barbarian move this way. Every single one of us is memorized at the display. He seems to know the exact length of his sword and its position as it cuts blades of grass in half but doesn’t drag on the ground. He doesn’t even seem to realise we are still here as he moves.
Then his tempo changes, becoming more erratic and unfocused but his moves are still deadly if a bit awkward as though he is pulling against something heavy. He grits his teeth and his feet stay solidly on the ground only shifting left to right, back to front. Making circles on the ground with his feet, sweat starting to fall in droplets from his brow.
This feels different, harder, but still he pushes on. Moving and moving and moving. If we had camped within the city he definitely would have an audience of people besides us by now. His current struggle seems to be going his way then not, then his way then not.
Ten minutes turns to twenty, twenty turns to thirty. We hardly breath loudly for fear of disturbing his trance. Watching as though in a ritual chamber of the seers.
Then something happens and pressure like the heat of a glaring sun blasts from Sachi buffeting us. Eliciting a surprised squill from my ma who is sitting besides Divina and Damage comfortably. Sachi’s uncle Brian grunts and his cousin’s eyes bulge in surprise. The wolf also lifts its head as the force keeps increasing.
The speed with which he moves increases, his movement more fluid again but in a different way. Some forms more ugly and seemingly done clumsily, with less beauty. But also seemingly more destructive somehow even without an opponent to gauge that on. The air around Sachi is moving erratically and his aura is pure white around him like a raggered second skin.
I can actually see it spreading and bloating, Sachi makes sounds with each stroke. Crying out loudly as though facing an actual opponent.
Then the aura starts retreating back into him. But now getting whiter and thicker as it tries to fit itself in a smaller space until it’s barely covering his skin, but looks impenetrable.
He suddenly stops, heaving heavily and holding that big beautiful blade gingerly. That thing is very deadly and very fast, and I have no chance whatsoever in facing this Sachi. Not at my current skill level, I need to train and I need to train hard.
The hermit starts clapping, breaking the sanctity of the moment and Sachi laughs happily and scratches his head awkwardly. He bows his head and says something in a strange tongue before sheathing to sword.
Only when its sheathed and the night sounds return do we realise it was still ringing, making a background buzz we didn’t even realise was there until it was silenced.
“Well done my boy, that was beautifully done.” The hermit says putting on his blindfold.
I still wonder what that man sees. I grunt my ascent as everyone praises his growing skills and beautiful swords. That’s the other thing, there are two such weapons. Though Sachi claims one I’d more than the other but hasn’t explained how yet.
Throughout his entire performance his ‘o-kata’ never left his hip. Nor once did it get in his way. I think its time I got myself a spiritual weapon.
Chapter 13
“It is said that spiritual beings do not have the same moral values as humans. No concept of good or evil. Death is but another doorway, torture but a fleeting experience that can teach profound wisdom.
To place our views and values on spirits is to be eternally disappointed.”
Except from: The Book Of Tears
> Written by: Atticus The Bold
Aaron
I walk into the Red Forest as power comes off me in waves. Broadcasting myself to every creature perceptive enough within 20kms. ‘I am here.’ I broadcast to the forest and it’s inhabitants walking deeper and looking around.
The Red Forest is amply named as the glow beneath the trees is a deep dark red. The light of the sun not touching the soggy ground I walk on. The leaves crunching under my feet, snakes, scorpions, baths, killer bees and tigers stalk me as I travel deeper. None daring to get too close but all unleashing their aura’s to threaten and intimate.
Awakened and magical beasts all. Protecting their vast territory in the middle of a rainforest the local people call Woodland Province. The Red forest is a wide territory permeated by a permanent red miasma that has changed the local inhabitants and attracted many creatures that have low affinity for the sun.
I travel deep looking at the beautiful exotic flora, from man eating trees to flowers that trap flies and small insects. This forest is an alchemist’s dream but it is very hostile to humanoid creatures. Most humanoid creatures, I sense a woman coming to greet me with a great white mist tiger at her side that stands at least 3 meters at the shoulder.
Too large to be able to move comfortably in this dense forest yet it moves with ease as the fauna and flora seems to make a path for the huge creature. Its eyes are considering me intelligently.
“Why have you come” comes a message in my head. Not as a voice like telepathic communication but as a sense of the question that transcends language and ambiguity.
I look to the large beautiful beast. It’s white coat looking bloody from the disembodied glow coming from everything within the forest. The Ancient beast isn’t the true power in this forest but it is also a force of nature, one whose power and wisdom cannot be underestimated.
“I have come to treaty with the forest and its inhabitants. I am new yo this land and wondering whether or not I could make a home outside the Red but within it’s shadow.” I say without preamble out loud.
