by S. D. Grady
The touch turned into a solid, warm hand. “Trust me."
She took a deep breath.
The warm hand began a slow, silken massage. At times, his rough hands barely touched her toes, only to return with a reassuring rub. Time began to drift in the silken darkness. Shayla strained for any sound. He made none.
No, not true. The regular huff of his breath could be heard and the distant trickle of the nearby stream. The fire popped. She sighed.
"Oh that's good, my dear,” he murmured just before the hands moved up towards the ankles.
His fingers traced the length of her calf, and then returned in a more imperative manner. Muscles relaxed. Bumps of pleasure popped up across Shayla's legs. She began to float. The hands created an haven of comfort and reassurance.
Just when Shayla's breathing relaxed, merely a sigh away from dipping into the softness of sleep, a hot wet tongue landed on her left thigh followed by a sharp nip.
"Oh!"
"Now, no falling asleep, my dear."
Nearly panting with the onslaught of that tongue, Shayla writhed and reached down for Grelig's head.
He slapped at her hands. “No, this is my gift.” His tongue returned to her thigh. It swirled higher and higher. His teeth bit into the soft joint of the hip. Lips fastened onto the spot, sucking hard.
Shayla bucked wildly.
The mouth began the soothing swirl again, deftly escaping down the right thigh disappearing behind the knee.
Shayla's cleft throbbed now. Her stomach clamped in a sweet torment. Her chest rose and fell in a panicked gasp. If only that tongue would just come back up...
It stopped. Everything. His hands, his mouth, his breath, the breeze ... Shayla felt that the earth paused. Her senses stretched, seeking some clue in the blankness of the cave.
The water still trickled. The fire hissed. The sand dug into her skin, indeed abrading her every nerve. Unable to deny her need any longer, “Please..."
Nothing.
Sure that her body would snap from the strain, Shayla raised her hand to the blindfold.
A steaming, sinuous tongue exploded into her clit; lapping, licking and diving into her. Large, demanding hands grasped her breasts; pinching her nipples, skating over the sensitive curves and flicking the painful peaks.
Shayla was unaware of her voice until the echoes of the fire were canceled by grunts, cries and screams. Her body tightened. The screw twisted one more time. Then again.
Nothing.
Grelig withdrew his body from hers. Shayla snarled, her body demanding completion.
"You can't do this to me."
It began all over again. The soft, tender touch on her toes that progressed to her calves and ended in persistent thumbs planted in the hollows of her hips.
Sweat dampened Shayla's brow as she bit her lip attempting to suppress her sobs. Her entire body was awash in an unending sensation. Her hips bucked in blatant entreaty.
She expected his torment to be never ending. She expected to be left begging for more.
She did not expect his hands and tongue to be replaced by his entire naked body engulfing her in flame. The kiss, one that invaded her mouth and soul, drew all her attention to the man riding her thigh. His cock was ridged. It inched ever closer to her clit. Even as she lapped at his wet kisses, her hips begged for more.
His invasion was sudden, driving her down into the sand.
Shayla gasped for air as her body adjusted. His cock tickled her womb.
Grelig drew back. Paused.
Shayla cried out, her legs wrapped about his waist, pulling him back.
He drove forward.
Again.
The pounding of his flesh meeting hers rang out into the vaulted ceiling of the cave. Shayla flew higher, grasping tighter, clawing, keening ... the end fluttered just beyond her reach.
Fire, fanned in the wind of his love, burned brighter. He came at her repeatedly with such ease, Shayla's passion slick pussy welcoming his rigid length again and again.
Anxious to keep Grelig's heat, Shayla cried out, her passage clenching him. Captured in her tight, dripping cunt Grelig called out his completion, driving deeper into her welcome. Their pulses beat together as they came.
Grelig rolled to the side, drawing a limp Shayla with him. She was asleep, except this time a smile played about her lips.
"I guess you liked your gift,” he murmured.
* * * *
Shayla snuggled against Grelig's bare chest, her elbows resting on his massive thighs. Skin against skin, they stared blankly into the fire, watching the flames writhe and twine. Shayla knew this was a moment stolen in time. For once, she wallowed in the seductive and safe feeling of peace.
Grelig nuzzled Shayla's silken brown locks; his thoughts frozen for the moment. There was bliss, comfort and security.
The afternoon had been spent sating their rapacious appetites for each other. Now, all that remained was a longing for companionship.
"What will we do now?” she asked into the charged evening.
"Never leave..."
The wistful quality of the statement teased Shayla. “You know that is not possible,” she chided.
His chest rose in a sigh. Shayla closed her eyes, filling her senses with him. His smell, his feel, his passion; they salved her sore heart.
"Then we shall have to meet the demon in Erlic and defeat him."
Shayla twisted about. She studied Grelig for several minutes. “You really mean that, don't you?"
She searched within herself expecting to find a real wish to run away. Instead, she discovered a conviction and desire to follow her lover wherever he might go.
His lips warmed her cheek. “I wouldn't want for you to go back to the village if you don't wish it, my sweet. But I can't let Erlic continue to abuse those that serve him and our people."
"I'll come."
"Why?"
"Because I trust you."
Part IV
Grelig pulled Shayla into the dim interior of his cottage, the pale light of the dawn barely chasing the shadows from his home.
"Stay here while I find some clothes for you,” he said as he turned to leave.
Shayla refused to let go of his hand.
He paused at the door. “What is it?"
Her eyes were clouded with worry. Chewing on her lower lip she asked, “What if somebody comes looking for you? You've been gone from the village for a few days."
Grelig tugged, and Shayla eagerly sank into his embrace. “We've an agreement, don't we, sweet?"
She nodded, her nose buried in his wide, comforting chest.
"I'll trust you to be waiting for me if you'll trust me to come back.” His hands ran over her back and shoulders. He kissed the top of her head before putting her from him.
Shayla looked up to his beloved face, his eyes hard with confidence. She tried to smile, but after so many months of running and hiding from her master, it did not come easily. She wiped a tear even as her lips twisted into a worried line. “I trust you, Grelig. It's the general I fear."
"I know, sweet.” He bent and relieved her fears with a passionate kiss. When her breath came hard and fast and her hands gripped his arms in a desperate grasp, he broke off. Her eyes glittered with fire. “All better?” he teased.
Shayla blushed. “All better."
"I won't be long. Try to get some sleep."
The door closed. Shayla sighed before turning to the cot. She tried to convince herself it would be all right. As she lay down, she kept telling herself, “I must trust him."
Grelig returned as the sun climbed over the roof of the Village Hall, his arms laden with supplies. Shayla rose from the cot, looking entirely too rumpled for Grelig's peace of mind. Her gown continued to gape in a most pleasing fashion, a result of her adventures and his loving.
"You look smug,” she accused with a shy smile.
"I feel smug.” The heat in his gaze and bulge in his breeches could not be misunderstood.
Shayla turned away, afraid she would ignite under his avid attentions. “What did you bring home?” she asked as she began opening parcels tied with string.
The first flat package was wrapped in a piece of worn flannel. She unrolled the curious object until the dagger dropped onto the table.
"What is that for?"
Grelig picked up the weapon, weighing it absently in his hand. A few lightning-fast flicks of his wrist sent the dagger in an arc landing in the middle of the door. “I can't help thinking that General Erlic will not come meekly with me to stand before the Village Four for judgment."
Shayla sat down on the chair, twisting the flannel in her hands. “You don't mean to ... well...” her voice vanished in a whisper. “Kill him?"
Grelig watched the woman who had somehow stolen his heart for minutes. Finally, she looked up. “I won't be a murderer, sweet. That's not who I am."
He knelt before her, taking her clammy hands in his large, warm ones. “I want to make sure he is judged according to our law. I don't wish to be the law. But I also won't let him get away."
"You promise?” Shayla studied him for an eternity. “Yes, I know. Trust you."
Grelig nodded. “Come, I brought some other things you'll be interested in."
Other things included enough food to fill the empty pantry and start the pot simmering with an aromatic breakfast, rope, a punched lantern, some soft leather shoes for Grelig and...
"Oh! It's wonderful!” Shayla spun about the cottage holding the red gown up to her. It was surely the finest thing she had ever seen. Rich lace, trimming, tiny stitches, a narrow waist and a low bodice gave the velvet gown an ineffable air of elegance. “Surely only one of the ladies of the Four would have something so fine!"
"You are my lady, and you will only have the finest."
Shayla stopped her feminine twirling, her blood draining from her face. “And what am I to give you, Grelig?"
"Just you will do, thank you."
She considered that given the appropriate response he might just take her ... now. Life would surely never be dull with this man next to her. She wondered why when the General made such comments it had always felt so sordid. Grelig made her want to sing.
Avoiding his unspoken question, she asked, “Where am I supposed to wear this?"
"At the slave barracks tonight."
"What?!"
Grelig chuckled. “Actually I borrowed it from your friend Chastine. I looked for her at the army dining hall at breakfast, as I returned some armor. I wished to thank her for helping you.” He swallowed, remembering Shayla's life-threatening injuries. Clearing his throat he continued, “She has several in her wardrobe. But this, I thought, would look rather fine on you.” His hands rubbed a fold of the luxurious fabric between his thumb and finger.
Suddenly all humor left Shayla. “Just what do you want me to do?"
* * * *
"I can't do this,” Shayla quailed as she stared at the door to the slave barracks.
Raucous music and bawdy laughter drifted into the night, an indication of the many pursuits being enjoyed by the officers within.
"You must.” Grelig's hands rested on her bare shoulders. “It's the only way to find the General without raising an alarm."
"I'll be recognized.” The frightened waif returned in force after Grelig outlined what he expected Shayla to do.
"Nobody will see the abused girl that ran away.” He gently turned her stiff body around. His lips moistened as he took in her barely concealed breasts, the tight bodice of the red gown thrusting them out as an offering to his hungry gaze. “But tonight they will only see a beautiful courtesan."
"I'm not beautiful,” she denied.
Grelig considered convincing Shayla she was mistaken, but there was little enough time. “Come on then. I need you to be my guardian tonight. What should I be doing?"
Shayla eyed Grelig's poorly fitted lieutenant's uniform. She couldn't imagine where he got it from. Probably the washing woman, she deduced from the number of stains on the dull, brown tunic.
For a moment, she remembered the feel of Grelig; his warm, loving hands, tongue and cock as he made glorious love to her. That is what a soldier should be doing.
"In for a pound, I guess,” she muttered. “Come, hold me close."
Grelig draped an arm about her shoulders.
Shayla looked at the entirely too proper manner of her man. “No! Dangle your hand ... there.” She pulled his hand down so that his fingers hovered over the valley of her breasts. A single twitch of a finger and her flesh shivered under his touch. “Now, lean into me."
"You'll fall!"
"No, I won't. Trust me."
When Grelig remained upright, Shayla bumped his hip with hers. He staggered a moment before straightening up again.
"You're drunk, you oaf! Or at least you're supposed to be!” she hissed at him.
Sheepishly, Grelig followed her directions.
"Now, follow me. I know exactly where the General likes to take his pleasure."
Grelig wanted to chuckle as he followed Shayla into the barracks.
The building was low and long, split down the middle with a narrow hallway. Light from candle wall sconces danced upon the rough-hewn lumber that made up the walls of the hall. The floors were much the same. Every eight feet or so the walls were interrupted by doors.
Feminine giggles, male laughter and the rhythmic thumps of passion ignited the dull environs with an urgent energy.
Shayla began to walk down the hall, her hand wrapped about Grelig's. Her sweating palms belied the air of eager confidence she tried to portray. The marvels of the woman were many, Grelig thought. He only hoped he would have enough time in his life to discover them all.
The dagger was strapped to his hip in a worn sheath. Nobody would think it odd that the young lieutenant forgot to remove his weapon when presented with such a beautiful woman for the night. The lantern he had left just outside the door. The rope was tied about his waist, concealed beneath his long tunic.
A door to their left swung open. A girl ran into the hall clad in a sheet; her panic obvious. The captain that followed her out was in a rage.
"Get back in here, you little bitch! You'll take what's coming to you and like it!"
Shayla stopped in her tracks. The dark, voluptuous girl sporting a swollen eye and a nasty gash on her leg stared back.
"Chastine!” Shayla cried.
Grelig picked Shayla up and kissed her, her feet dangling.
"Let go!” she protested.
Abruptly, Grelig's body slammed into something.
Shayla looked up, over Grelig's shoulder, into the black gaze of the irate captain.
"Look where you're going, you idiot!"
Grelig turned and dropped Shayla. “Oi! Sorry, sir! I didn't see you!"
As Grelig continued a litany of groveling and apology, he blocked the hall with his immense body, shielding Shayla and Chastine.
Just as Shayla became bored with the predictable dressing down her amorous lieutenant was receiving, she realized that Chastine was nowhere to be seen.
"Now look what you've done!” The captain turned purple in rage. The loss of his evening's entertainment appeared to be even direr than the discourtesy of being walked on by a giant.
Grelig smiled at the diatribe. “Now, see here captain, if you got her willing, then there wouldn't be so much fuss..."
The light went out for Shayla. Grelig's arms, his chest, his breath, his legs all crushed her in an embrace against the wall. She struggled to meet the demands of this latest charade.
His hands began a leisurely trip over the curves of her breasts, dipping into the valley and tugging at her bodice. It dropped away with little difficulty. His hot breath and tongue tangled with hers. Shayla dimly thought she heard the captain stomp away, muttering curses under his breath, before she lost herself in the vortex of Grelig's kiss.
The charade was forgotten.
Desire, intense and hot swept over th
e pair. The candles guttered in a stiff breeze.
The flickering light drew Shayla out of the black, velvet depths of Grelig's embrace. “Why does it always do that?” she wondered.
Grelig's hands continued to tease, caress and pinch Shayla's breasts. “Hmmm?"
His mouth descended upon a nipple.
The moment Shayla threw back her head; the wind snuffed the sconce next to her.
"There!” she pointed at the smoking wick. She stared intently at Grelig for several seconds. “What is it that you do?"
He blushed, even as his hands continued to roam over Shayla's pleasantly exposed flesh. “I'm afraid I rather lose myself when enjoying you."
She shrugged her confusion.
Finally, Grelig paused. “I'm of the Elemental Body. I thought you knew that."
Shayla shook her head, even as she cast back over all of her interactions with Grelig.
He nibbled at her ear some more, his swollen cock rubbing her thigh in an urgent reminder of what they both desired. A warm breeze rose with his deepening breaths.
Shayla smiled, smug with understanding. “You have the Gift of Air?"
He nodded, running his teeth over her neck and collarbone. The breeze rose some more and the other sconces began a dance.
She tugged at his hands, her brow furrowed. “The storm ... that was you, wasn't it?” The enormity of Grelig's crimes against the Army thundered down upon Shayla. “Mother and Sun! Do you know what you've done to the General?"
Grelig wrapped his arms about her, pulling her close. “Yes, I'm afraid I do. I've stolen the General's slave, and aided in the escape of that slave and a declared enemy of the Sun by using my powers."
"The Four could exile you! Your powers could be stripped ... Grelig! You've got to go!"
"No, my sweet. There's something very wrong in this village, and I've got to make it right. That's what a blacksmith does, after all. I fix things."
The sounds of the barracks vanished as Shayla conceived just how magnificent her giant was. She reached up, grasping his neck and pulled his head down to her. “I don't deserve you,” she cried before thrusting her love, passion and devotion into the kiss.
When the hall was dark with their fire, Shayla and Grelig smiled.
