Elven Mage's Submissive Passion

by Reed James

  That shuddering bliss.

  But Marcus's command held her back.

  Why am I obeying that command, and not the other, whispered through her mind? Just tell him so we can cum, or disobey him. Just do something.

  He does not deserve to be burdened by my enemy, the other half of her whispered back. Be strong. Savor the agony of denial. He will relent before us. He's human. He doesn't have an elf's will. Let alone ours.

  Kulrigiizhai closed her eyes. She felt the Arcane Lash whipping her again. What she had learned in pain and suffering at his hands. He had scoured all emotions from her. He had freed her from it all, or so he had claimed. He had never scraped out her rage. Her black anger that festered in the depths of her soul. Her desire for revenge would destroy her. She knew it.

  Why take Marcus Aurelius with her?

  The flap rustled. She steeled herself for him. She could smell his musk, drenched in Twist's spicy cream. He padded to her, naked. She heard his balls, stuck to his inner thigh, peel from his skin as he walked. The grass rustled about his toes, whisking across the soles of his feet.

  “That bear concerned you, didn't it?” Marcus said.

  His words startled her. “It was just a normal animal, Marcus Aurelius. Maddened. It did not need to attack us.”

  “It was innocent?”

  She gave a slow nod. “It did not deserve to suffer, Marcus Aurelius.”

  “You aren't one for sentimentality.”

  “I don't understand it myself,” Kulri admitted.

  Marcus studied her. The elf met him. The bear's pain filled her with that strange sadness. A grief for something lost. Something innocent and pure. The blight had twisted the bear into something it wasn't meant to be. A berserk animal.

  “Are you okay?” the human asked her, his voice soft.

  “I am fine, Marcus Aurelius.” She pushed down the sadness. She was feeling too much lately. “It was just a bear.”

  He sighed and shook his head. She did not understand why.

  Then his hand pressed between her legs. His touch on her pussy lips reawakened that aching fire. It blazed hot through her. She gasped, throwing back her head. Her ears twitched as his fingers stroked up and down her flesh. Her juices soaked him.

  “And how is your pussy holding up?” he asked, that grin returning.

  “This elf is denying herself any pleasure as you commanded,” Kulrigiizhai answered. She could cum just from those few strokes, but she batted away her release.

  “Want to tell me why that elf mage bothered you so much?” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Why you hate him?”

  She hesitated. His fingers felt so good. She could just surrender to the desires of her flesh. She could reveal her secrets to him and accept the bliss. She wanted to. Ached to. But her will was strong. She could endure this.

  She shook her head.

  He pulled his fingers from her pussy and thrust them into his mouth. He sucked on them, savoring the taste of her. She quivered then, but she held firm, fighting that lust that would blaze through her body.

  He popped his fingers out. “Elf, back in the tent. I'm sure one of them in there has a use for your body. Serve them however they want.”

  His command sent a shiver through her. She groaned, “This elf shall give her all to please your other women, Marcus Aurelius.”

  He gave a single nod of his head.

  Frustrated, her body begging and aching and craving her orgasm, she headed back inside the tent, leaving the man to stand naked in the misty night. She knelt down, finding Twist slumping off of Dëshoma's body.

  “This elf is ready to please any of you,” Kulrigiizhai said.

  “And what about you?” Maria asked.

  “This elf is not allowed any pleasure.” Her ears twitched. Her pussy clenched in envy of Dëshoma's flushed face. “Servicing is all this elf needs.”

  But it wasn't. She needed Marcus. Where did this weakness come from?

  * * / *

  I spent some time in the mist. It was cool out here, my body hot from the fun. I stared out at the darkness. The moon's silvery light penetrated through. A violet haze stretched across the horizon, the glowing barrier that surrounded this part of the shattered world.

  “Phaw,” a cheery voice groaned. “It is stuffy in there. All that pussy in one tent. Not good. Our passion's going to rot it from the inside.”

  I snorted.

  Éjyona padded up to me. The halfling stood not much higher than my hip. She rocked on her feet, her round breasts swaying. I studied her, more questions dancing through my mind. So much to understand.

  “Soooo...” the halfling said, hands clasped behind her back. She squirmed. “What are we doing? Just staring at mist? It's... uh... mist.”

  “What is between you and that Warrior?” I asked. “You didn't hesitate to fire at him on the hill.”

  “Don't know the Blue Plumed Warrior personally,” she said. “Just hate what he serves.”

  “Pushijer? One of the Gods of Light and Order?”

  “He lets his followers do terrible things in his name. Why shouldn't I curse him?”

  “You used to believe, didn't you?”

  “Devout as they came. But the priests stole it from me.”

  “How utterly sad.”

  I turned my head to spot Dëshoma. She had also slipped out of the tent. She padded over to us. She took my arm on the other side, rubbing her breasts against me.

  “I feel such pity for thee, Éjyona.”

  “They'll steal it from you, too,” the halfling said. “Your goddess will only disappoint you. You'll see her for what she is.”

  “Ëshuxeri shall not betray me.”

  “The Gods are not what you think they are.” Éjyona kicked at the grass, tearing up a few blades that caught between her toes. “They pretend to be good and loving and caring, but it's all a farce.”

  “Or is it Their mortal followers who have disappointed thee?” Dëshoma asked. “After all, it was us frail and flawed creatures who did fail the Gods a hundred years ago. It is why the noble Hierophant judged our peoples and asked the Gods to shatter our world. Is it surprising that we still fail them?

  “Or that they have failed thee, Éjyona.”

  “I wish it were that simple,” Éjyona said. “But the corruption in Pushijer's church is too complete. Greed. Selfishness. This is why I fight them. Stand up against them. They ruin everything. They need to be opposed. So I'll do it. I'll oppose them.”

  “Oppose the flawed followers, but do not close thine heart to the Gods of Light and Order. They do love thee and care for thee.”

  The halfling snorted and marched back to the tent. She paused. “I won't gloat when they disappoint you, Dëshoma. I'll be there for you. I'll understand.”

  “As I, too, shall be there for thee.”

  Éjyona vanished back inside. I cleared my throat. “You have no doubts.”

  “None.” She smiled up at me. “Neither should thou. Didst not Shuwëmeri place her blessing upon thy cock and gift thee that marvelous piercing?”

  “Not that it does much good.”

  She stroked it and rubbed the tip. “One day, I am certain it shall.” She leaned in and kissed me. “Shalt we return? I fear I still am feeling...”

  “Horny.”

  She smiled.

  * * / *

  Maria du Marne

  It was quiet in the tent but Maria found sleep elusive. A restlessness gripped her. She sat up. Tonight was so much fun. She didn't want to give it up, but her village needed her. She closed her eyes, struggling to picture the hamlet of Gastin and those who lived there. Her friends. Derrick. All the men who needed her success.

  The only Shardhunter ever born in their village. The only one to leave the village behind and travel to the other parts of the world. They were counting on her, and yet she felt like dragging her feet. Coating them in lead to put off the day she could return.

  She stepped outside to pass her water. After she fi
nished, she headed back inside, hoping that with an empty bladder, she could finally find the sleep she needed. She settled down beside Marcus, placed her head on her pillow.

  Sighed.

  “I know that sound,” Marcus said. His arms pulled her to him. “That's the 'I want to sleep but my body sucks and won't let me' sigh.”

  “Yeah,” Maria said.

  “What's wrong?”

  She hesitated. She didn't want to talk about it, to admit out loud the truth she didn't want to face. So, instead, she asked, “Why did you choose to be a Paladin and not a Warrior? That seemed more your style.”

  “The pure Strength Path?” He smiled in the dark. “That is definitely my play... my style. How I expected to develop as a Shardhunter.”

  “And yet you chose Paladin? Why?”

  He stared up at the tent's ceiling for a moment. “Traveling through the temple of Shuwëmeri showed me there was more to this world than just going out and having a fun adventure with a bunch of sexy women. Not to say I don't enjoy that, but this world is broken. There's suffering in it. I realize I can't just stand by and do nothing.”

  “You could still do that as a Warrior,” she pointed out.

  “True. But it's a statement. By choosing to be a Paladin, I'm telling myself that protecting and defending is more important than my desire to satisfy my selfish desires. That this is bigger than me. I should choose something that will see me accomplish something.”

  “Responsibility,” Maria whispered.

  “I bought... I became a Shardhunter to escape it, and yet here I am embracing it.” He chuckled. “But this one feels important. This is something that I would gladly choose to do. To give up some of my own wants to do something grand. To help this world.”

  Maria sighed. It was all so clear now. Why she would have to leave. Marcus was right. Her village's needs were more important than her own wants. She had made oaths and promises. She'd broken one of them, but the others she could still keep. Would still keep.

  “Thank you, Marcus,” she said. She felt it now, sleep beckoning. Strangely, her worry relaxed. She still dreaded the day when she'd have to leave, but she had accepted her choice. She no longer feared it. She would do what she had to for her village.

  That was important.

  It wasn't about herself.

  “Good night,” she said.

  “Sweet dreams. Don't let the bedbugs bite.”

  “Bed... bugs?” Her brow furrowed. “You say the strangest things, Marcus. It makes me wonder about where you came from.”

  He chuckled. “That's a way too complicated story for right now. I'm too tired.”

  “Mmm,” she said, her eyes closing.

  She found herself drifting off to sleep, coming closer and closer to that moment of blissful oblivion, when a sound echoed from outside. A tremor itched through her mind. The skill every Fighter learned at Level 1 snapped her wide awake.

  “Fuck,” Marcus spat, sitting up. “We're under attack!”

  Blades slashed through the walls of the canvas tent.

  Chapter Fifteen: Night Attack

  Twist

  Marcus's roar snapped the dragonborn awake.

  Twist's eyes opened to see the canvas tent slashing open above her. Then a figure leaped in, swathed in black. Hissing, Twist Vanished. She went invisible and rolled to the right, a dagger slamming down and cutting into her bedroll. She gained her feet and looked around. She needed gear.

  Other figures clothed in black were in the tent, attacking the others. It was chaos. Pink light flared as Iris leaped into the air. Her body glittered, illuminating the figures slashing at the various party members with daggers.

  Hit Points bled from many of Twist's companions.

  Twist snagged up her sacrificial dagger. Her naked tits heaved as she plunged a Blood Strike into the lower back of one figure. A spurt of crimson splashed across her hand and belly. The satisfaction of hurting her enemy rippled through her.

  She rippled into sight as the enemy turned around. Eyes glazed through the slits in his mask. He slashed with hard strokes, a flurry attack. Twist leaped back, big tits heaving. The knife scored across her tits, pain bursting from them.

  Twist launched into her own Knife Flurry, her blade slicing and slashing open the front of the enemy Thief's black clothes. She hissed, using her newest ability, upgraded to inflict more damage when she'd hit Level 13.

  The enemy cried in pain and staggered. She hissed in satisfaction at the damage she'd inflicted. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, gray ball. He slammed it at his feet.

  Smoke exploded through the tent.

  * * / *

  “Fuck!” I growled as the knife sliced over my ribs.

  I didn't have my armor on to blunt attacks. With a loud snarl, I unleashed a Hard Strike with my bare hand. I slammed into the ninja's head. I didn't know if he was a real ninja, but he dressed like one. The blow staggered him back.

  “Marcus!” Maria shouted.

  I glanced at her. She tossed my ax to me. I snagged it and nodded. She whirled and thrust her rapier at a rogue, running him through the throat. Éjyona Vanished while Dëshoma picked up her bible, squeaking in fright.

  She hit one of the attackers with her bible. “Hast thou no shame! There are naked maidens present! Scalawag!”

  She hit him again, doing little damage. He whirled and stabbed his dagger hard into her stomach. Blood spurted. She screamed; her Hit Points, already the second-lowest in the group, plummeted. More bled from her as she spurted crimson, a bleeding DoT. The rogue snarled and slashed at her again.

  “Lord Marcus!” she cried.

  Shield of Faith burst from me and engulfed Dëshoma. A bubble of crystalline force blocked the blow. The rogue hissed while Dëshoma stumbled back. She hugged her bible to her. White light spilled over her as she Healing Touched herself. It didn't fix the DoT, but it cured much of the damage she'd taken.

  I swung my ax at my foe. He slashed, his dagger cutting into my thigh and stomach, ripping at muscle. The blade of my ax struck his shoulder, pain burning up my body. Some of it retreated as I regained a small amount of HP with each blow.

  “Let mine understanding of the positive energy of this world flow out...” chanted Dëshoma. Shield of Faith didn't stop her from healing, only attacking. “...and heal my companion!”

  The miracle swept over me, restoring my Hit Points as my ax slammed into the ninja's head. Skull crunched. The enemy fell dead to the ground, twitching and flopping. I growled and whirled around to find my next foe.

  Smoke erupted through the tent.

  * * / *

  Maria du Marne

  Smoke filled the pavilion.

  The enemy Maria fought vanished from her sight, swallowed by thick gray. She coughed and staggered back. Arcane energy exploded through the center of the tent from Kulri's staff. The enemy before Maria screamed in pain. She lunged at that spot and rammed her rapier through flesh, skipping off ribs. She heard a gurgling sigh and a body thump to the ground.

  “Where's the enemy?” Maria shouted.

  “There is one attacking me!” Kulri cried out. Her Hit Points bled away.

  Maria snapped her head around and rushed in that direction. A figure appeared out of the smoke. She used the last of her TP on a Precise Strike. She rammed it into the figure's kidney. He cried out in pain and whirled around to attack her.

  Arcane purple slammed into his back. The bright flash illuminated Kulri for a moment in the smoke. The struck enemy staggered into Maria. He planted his face between her naked breasts before sliding down her body. She stumbled back and tripped, falling down.

  With a groan, the tent collapsed.

  Smoke and canvas engulfed her. It pressed down on her. She gasped and kicked, struggling to get free. Dëshoma cried out. Éjyona hissed. Her gun boomed. A ripple of hot air washed over Maria. A man screamed.

  “Fuck!” Marcus snarled and then fresh air flowed from her right.

  She
crawled towards it and spilled out of the rent in the tent to find Marcus running into the mist after one of the attackers. He raised his ax and buried it in the Thief's back. The enemy screamed and hit the ground hard, flopping on the grass.

  “Is that all of them?” Maria gasped. It had happened so fast. And then it seemed to be over.

  She spun around to the tent. It writhed as her fellow party members struggled to get out. Thick smoke billowed from holes. Kulri popped her head out, her ears twitching. Tears spilled down from her reddened eyes.

  “You okay?” Maria gasped, racing to the elf and helping her out.

  “Just my eyes,” she panted, blinking them. Tears streamed down her face. “The smoke irritated them.”

  “You poor thing,” Maria said and hugged her tight. “I'm glad you're safe.”

  The elf hesitated, then returned the embrace. Maria smiled.

  “Lord Marcus!” Dëshoma shrieked.

  * * / *

  Dëshoma

  She kicked. Thrashed. Screamed.

  She was surrounded. Engulfed. Smoke and darkness and heavy cloth wrapped around her. It strangled her. She clutched her bible to her breasts, thrashing. She had to get out of this constraining prison. She kicked hard.

  Cloth ripped. A rush of cool air spilled over her.

  A strong hand seized her. She gasped as Marcus pulled her out and against him. She pressed her face into his chest, coughing and sobbing. She gripped him hard, not sure why it had terrified her. She should be stronger, but it had been all around her. Clinging to her.

  “It's okay,” Marcus said. “They're dead. You're free.”

  “I... I...” She struggled to regain her composure.

  “Claustrophobic, eh?” he asked, sounding so compassionate. So understanding.

  “W-what is that?”

  “Means you're afraid of tight, dark places.”

  She nodded. Squeezed her eyes shut. “The canvas was just squeezing around me. I could not draw breath. I had grown so tangled that I feared I wouldst never be free. That I would smother to death.”