“Oh, hells!” she purred as her buttocks touched down on his thighs. Pol was moving again, his hips pushing up into her, setting her back to bouncing on him. She had a hand down between her legs, flicking her clit back and forth as the thick cock slipped in and out of her ass. Her breath was starting to shorten, and she leaned back, resting on Pol’s chest, her eyes closing as his hands roamed her body, his breath hot in her ear.
A hand pulled hers away from her pussy, and a finger stroked up her outer lips, coating itself in her juices. It retracted for a moment, then pressed against her, pushing into her pussy. Kiera and Pol moaned in unison as Kiera’s body reacted to the intruder, then moaned again when a second finger joined the first, both of them finding their way to the most sensitive part of her cunt.
She opened her eyes, lifting herself slightly off Pol, and saw it was Heldi between her legs. She was kneeling before the chaise, between both Kiera’s and Pol’s legs, one hand attending to Kiera’s pussy while the other fondled Pol’s balls. Garen was driving into her, as hard as he possibly could.
Kiera’s moans were loud, as she stared down at Heldi’s face, the dark woman’s long tongue lashing her clit. When she looked up, Garen was staring at her, his hands on Heldi’s waist, plowing in and out of her ass. Heldi’s fingers plunged back and forth in her pussy, her thumb a blur on her own clit as she manipulated Kiera’s as best she could as Garen pounded into her from behind and Pol did the same to Kiera from below.
Kiera grabbed Heldi’s head again, pulling her tight and deep against her pussy, ensuring that Heldi’s tongue gave her clit strong, confident licks. She shuddered, and Pol groaned.
“Oh, Vash, let me feel—” Kiera began, and cut off into a giddy laugh of satisfaction as Pol erupted inside her, hot cum pouring into her body. She could feel every pulse of his cock, his seed gushing out with each one.
Heldi’s tongue hadn’t surrendered its assault, in the least, and Kiera’s pleasure came roaring back through her, the first waves of it breaking just as Pol’s orgasm was subsiding. She groaned and shouted again, and Heldi continued to suck on her clit until Kiera was quivering and struggling to get away.
She rolled onto her side, and Pol disengaged from her carefully, his cock slipping out of her ass with a soft mew from her. She rolled onto her back.
“Master Garen hasn’t finished yet,” Kiera observed. “He must have developed a fine control over the decades.”
“Master Garen is bewitched by a spell,” said Pol.
“An enchanted cock?” laughed Kiera. “I might like to try that.”
“Would you?” asked Heldi. “I will trade you.”
Kiera’s gaze flickered to Pol and he smiled at her.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll make that trade.”
“Good. Let me prepare him for you,” she said.
Heldi grinned, then waved her hand at a corner of the tent. A copper basin of water rose into the air, a spark igniting a fire underneath so hot steam began to rise out of it by the time it reached Heldi at the end of the chaise. The fire died and Heldi retrieved one of the bits of fabric she’d formerly worn as clothing. She dipped it in the water, then knelt before Garen and began to clean his body.
Kiera found her own discarded shirt, and dipped it in. Pol grinned at her, and took the shirt from her when she approached him.
“Won’t let me do it?” she asked, watching him drag the cloth across his long cock. He’d softened slightly in the aftermath, she couldn’t help but notice.
“I can clean myself,” he said, finishing and discarding the cloth.
Kiera leaned into him, kissing him hard. Her hand found his cock, giving him a few firm strokes, gratified to find him hardening in her palm.
“I know you can,” she whispered in his ear. “I saw you do it in that river.”
Heldi coughed, bringing Kiera back to where they were. She released Pol, then joined Garen on the other side of the chaise. He was just a hair shorter than her, and while his physique was more built up than Pol’s, he was no ox like Tau. He seemed to be only a few years older than her, and yet, there was an air to him of a much older man, at the end of the prime of his life. The steel blue pools of his eyes gazed into hers.
“Master Garen,” she said.
“Lady Kiera,” he acknowledged. She felt unsteady, unsure of what to say next.
Garen ignored it, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her tight into him. He kissed her, the bristle of his beard a surprise after Pol’s clean-shaven chin. She rubbed her hands along his body, feeling his skin.
Garen squeezed the cheek of her ass with one hand, then let it trail down to under her thigh, lifting her leg to just above his hips. She grabbed his biceps to steady herself, and Garen broke their kiss to lick along her neck. He took two fingers of the hand unoccupied by her leg and placed them at her lips, and she sucked them into her mouth, her tongue tasting the salt of his skin.
After a moment, he pulled his fingers out of her mouth, kissing her hard again , tugging at her lower lip with his teeth . His hand disappeared between them, and Kiera gasped into his mouth when she felt them shove up into her.
His wrist pushed harder and harder, and Kiera moaned aloud. Behind her she heard a Heldi cry out, the wanton lust palpable in her voice, but Kiera couldn’t turn to see what was going on. She reached down to Garen’s crotch, finding his cock and tugging on him, keeping pace with the hand in her pussy.
Garen groaned, and he pulled his fingers out of her body, then gripped her hips and spun her around, forcing her down to her knees so that she was kneeling on the floor, bent over the edge of the chaise. He dropped down behind her and she gave her own shout as Garen plunged his cock into her pussy, going as deep as he could on the first stroke. Kiera shook and reached out, her right hand touching warm skin, and she looked up at who it was.
Heldi was on her back beside her, her head facing the other direction, her legs lifted up over Pol’s shoulders. Kiera’s face was inches from Pol’s cock pushing back and forth between the other woman’s thighs, and Kiera groaned as she watched most of his length emerge, shining from Heldi’s pussy, then disappear back into her.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck her, Pol,” she urged. She was enraptured by it, her legs moving unconsciously, pushing back against Garen’s thrusts, trying to match her timing, as though each time Pol plunged into Heldi, he was fucking Kiera too. Heldi was moaning uncontrollably at the other side of the chaise, and Kiera could feel two sets of hands stroking her body, gripping her waist and kneading her buttocks.
Kiera lifted herself onto her elbows so she could watch Pol fuck Heldi better, pulling Heldi’s thigh down so her ankle fell off Pol’s shoulder and her foot rested on the floor, the other leg remaining stretched into the air. She rested her head on Heldi’s thigh, Pol’s torso battering the air in front of her nose. When she looked up, he was staring down at her.
She started to say something, but cried out at the sudden emptiness as Garen withdrew from her pussy, and Heldi’s moans immediately became muffled and softened as Garen pushed himself inside her mouth.
“Oh, fuck, Pol, finish in her. I want to see you fill that pussy full of cum,” Kiera moaned. She reached down, cupping his balls, her fingers pressing behind his scrotum to feel the very base of his cock, nestled between the muscle of his groin.
Pol groaned, his cock pulsing and Kiera gave him a delighted grin as she felt his cum pour out of him, feeling it rush through his cock through her fingertips as his balls tightened in her palm.
Garen’s cock pulled out of her, and she shot a glance behind her, just in time to see him bury himself between Heldi’s lips, his own grunts heralding his climax.
The Sorcerer moaned as both men came inside her at once, and Kiera dropped her head to lick at Heldi’s clit, watching the other woman’s hips shake as she did so. Kiera reached forward and pulled Pol’s still spurting cock from Heldi’s cunt, a rope of cum falling across Heldi’s groin. Kiera sucked his cock into her mouth, t
asting the last of his seed as it poured out of him, mixing with Heldi’s taste in her mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, staring down at the mess on Heldi’s torso. Pol and Garen were both sitting on the chaise next to them, and Pol bent to kiss Kiera one more time.
“I really hope I don’t die in the duel tomorrow,” she said.
“We all do,” said Heldi.
“No, I really hope I don’t die.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’d like to do that again.”
The other three glanced at each other.
“The night’s still young,” said Pol.
Chapter 17
“Fuck me,” said Kiera. She snapped her helmet’s visor closed and raised her shield.
Errah had been right. The Clans had come storming out of the gates of Tia Joi, ready and willing to fight, by all appearances. All the Vashili siege engines had been dragged up the road for nothing, which Kiera thought was something of a poor bargain. She’d never been in a siege before, and she had been mildly excited by the idea of a trebuchet smashing down the wall.
“Fuck me!” she shouted as Varomar came hurtling at her, roaring. His cleaver dug into her shield, and she at least had the forethought to lift it higher to accommodate the height of his swing, which meant it only cut halfway into shield itself, rather than her arm.
For a giant, he was fast, dodging her counterattack with something approaching grace. She swung again and he danced away, and she had to shift quickly to keep from losing him out of sight of the visor.
For something called the “Combat of Champions” there hadn’t been much prelude. As the Clans had arrayed themselves for battle, Varomar had ridden out from the massive horde. Errah, dressed in an ill-fitting suit of chain and a helmet to disguise his true nature had given her a push.
“Do I say anything?” she’d asked.
“He’ll talk. Just agree and then kill him.”
“Fuck! Shit! Vash damn!” Kiera screamed as she brought the battle to Varomar this time, not giving him the space to ready an attack. She’d always gotten a caution from the judges on her language during competitions. Not that Varomar minded, probably. And he was certainly not here just to compete. He was good with his cleaver, turning it catch her blows on the flat. She worried slightly about her sword. It was just Vashili steel. Varomar’s blade was dragon jade from tip to handle.
He’d met her in the middle of the field, away from both armies.
“Are you prepared to die?” he’d asked her.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she’d answered. Varomar had dismounted, and Kiera had done the same, lifting her shield off Blade’s saddle and pulling her sword free from its scabbard.
“You’ve come to fight,” he’d observed. “Last time I faced an Easterner, he was a greybeard without a sword. He thought he could defeat the Clans with words.”
“Well, I’m not here to defeat the Clans,” she’d said. “I’m here to defeat you.”
Varomar had chuckled at her, grinning broadly. If he hadn’t been a giant barbarian he would almost have been darkly handsome.
“When do we start?” she’d asked.
Varomar had answered her by raising his weapon.
A lightning blow from his cleaver against her arm faced a feeble attempt at blocking and Kiera’s arm rang from the impact. Her family’s armor held fast against the strike, though, resisting any damage. Varomar swung again, and Kiera raised her shield to block it, the blow separating the wood into two clean pieces.
She threw the wreckage of her shield at Varomar, forcing him to dodge it. Kiera barreled forward at him, swinging her sword down in a vicious chop from above her head, the gauntleted hand not holding her hilt grabbing the base of the blade to deliver more speed.
Varomar reacted just in time, managing to catch the blade on his, just above his head. Kiera pulled it away, then swung a short chop at his side. He jerked out of the way, hissing as the tip of Kiera’s sword went slicing across his exposed stomach, a bright red scratch opening slightly. He backed away quickly, pressing a hand to the wound and examining the thin dotted line of blood that came up on his palm.
“First blood,” said Kiera.
“The only blood that matters is your dying blood,” said Varomar. But his voice was a little less steady than it had been.
“Well, you’re welcome to come try to claim it,” said Kiera.
That turned out to be something of a mistake, as Varomar came rushing at her again. He was, Kiera had to admit, quite a bit stronger than her. Her saving grace was that his cleaver was much heavier than her longsword and he had trouble bringing it around fast enough to follow up on a strike. Kiera gave ground grudgingly as she parried his blows one by one.
Finally Varomar’s arm grew tired, and Kiera countered, coming on as strong and fast as she could. Varomar’s fatigue seemed to get the better of him, and he battled to meet her strikes, especially as Kiera slipped each blocked blow, sending jabs and slashes in equal measure, testing his defenses, discovering where he reacted slower. A poor block opened up a small gash on his calf and second bit into his shoulder. The Dragon Clan Warmaster was shouting with each block and blow, and Kiera was cursing up a storm at him in response.
She tried for a killing strike, a slicing blow that aimed to cut him apart from shoulder to groin. Varomar caught her blade on his, using both his hands on the flat of the cleaver to brace it as Kiera struggled to break the block. She reached her weaker hand up, grabbing her blade in her gauntlet, pushing it hard back.
Varomar kicked her hard in the stomach.
The armor took most of the blow, but even so, the world darkened for a moment and she went tumbling over on her back. In a second she was in panic. She’d been trained for this, falling like a turtle turned on its shell, but she’d never had to do it with her life on the line and in an instant she was panicking.
It didn’t help matters to have Varomar charging down on her, trying to lop off her important bits with his cleaver. Kiera’s blade rose in defense, managing to catch his hammer blows.
Varomar lowered his cleaver, hooking it under her blade and ripping it out her grasp, sending it flying across the mud.
“Fuck!” screamed Kiera. It seemed to her both armies were echoing her words, a roar that rippled through the hosts.
Varomar swung down to slice her open. Sparks burst from her chest as the cleaver failed to separate the thick plates that armored her. Varomar tried another blow, and in desperation, Kiera raised her hands to block it.
The blow stung like fire, and she knew she’d have a bruise but right now that seemed a lot less awful than losing an arm as the armor held together, barely even scratched by Varomar’s attempt.
“Kili curse you! The men of the East are cowards!” roared Varomar. He hammered down another blow that set Kiera’s head to ringing when it connected with her full helm. Her hand gripped at the dirt without thinking. He looked around, trying to determine how he could kill her.
His gaze fell on her sword, the long narrow point made to slip through the chinks in plate.
Varomar started to move toward Kiera’s lost weapon and she hurled the clod of dirt in her hand at his face. He shouted in surprise, and Kiera lumbered to her feet, running after him as soon as she’d regained her balance.
She caught him a moment before he managed to close a hand on the hilt of her sword, bearing him to the ground, the hand with the cleaver tucked under her as she landed on top of him. Varomar rolled, hacking at her back, the sword making dull, ineffectual blows at her shoulder plates. Kiera punched him as hard as she could in the side, striking him over and over. He grunted and tried to push her away, but she struck him hard in the chin and he shouted in pain, dropping her sword. In an instant, she grabbed it, pressing the blade against his throat.
The fight went out of Varomar, his eyes staring up at her, and for the very first time, she saw a real fear behind them.
“Yield,” she offered.
Sh
e felt every muscle in his body tense and she began to press the blade tighter against his throat, a thin line opening up in his skin as she readied herself to kill him when he tried to break free. Varomar’s eyes were racing around in his skull, his gaze desperate to find a way through her helmet’s visor and measure her resolve.
“I yield,” he rasped.
Kiera stood up, still holding her sword out against Varomar’s throat, letting him rise to his knees before her. He bent low, kissing the ground at her feet.
“My life is yours, warrior,” he said. “As Kili calls Vash ‘Master,’ so will I, the mite, call you, the dragon, ‘Master,’ until the end of creation. I am your servant, until the end of your days or mine.”
No one but Kiera could hear Varomar’s surrender, but both sides could see him prostrating himself at her feet. A wail went up from the Clans, met in turn by a roar from the allies.
There was a shocking loud noise, like someone ripping apart the air, and Kiera barely had time to look up to see a fireball bearing down on her and Varomar. She instinctively turned, dropping her sword and shielding the Warmaster as the fire washed over them.
Blade and Varomar’s horse were streaming away, startled by the fire. Kiera’s sword was a melted mess, and half of Varomar’s jade jewelry had fallen apart. But his cleaver, and above all, Kiera’s armor, was untouched.
“Was that Jorga?” she asked.
“Yes!” cried Varomar. He was on his feet again, and turning to run. “He wanted me to die if I were to lose. He said it would bring him power.” He began to sprint towards the Vashili-Coulanian lines.
They seemed to be miles away as Kiera plodded after him, the rain of arrows that started only helping add to the distance.
Kiera cleared the range of their bows, closing the narrow gap to the line of Vashili spearmen in front of her, their weapons held at the ready. The spearmen parted to allow her entrance, grabbing Varomar as he entered after her.
“Take him to Lady Elina,” she commanded.
“I won’t cause you trouble,” said Varomar. “Unhand me.”
Dragon Jade Chronicle: The Warlock And The Warrior Page 45
