I beat my wings, and sent him flying backward. His head struck a boulder, and he went still.
Seven elves clamored over the felled trees that divided our pocket. I rushed over to them with my wide manic smile; it almost seemed like a game! They charged me with their spears and swords, and I stopped abruptly, unfurled my wings, and—something hit me. A hollow thud shot through my chest cavity, and a great pain tore through me. I looked down. There was an arrow inside me, just above my left breast. Red blood leaked from the clean puncture wound, and spilled in rivulets down my nipple. The thrill left me. Coldness enveloped me. My pulse sounded in my ears. The motions of the world slowed. I saw the archer atop his horse reaching back for another arrow. I saw the seven men charging me. I saw my sons and daughters charge past me, expecting my wings to aid them, but I could not. Or rather, I did not. There was still strength enough in me to flex my mighty wings, but my mind was singularly focused on the intrusion of metal and wood stuck in my heart. I had never felt something so intimate, so visceral in all my life. Even greater than the thrill of murder, was this sensation. My body reacted violently, reversing all functions, moving every available resource to the sight of the catastrophe. Adrenaline was dumped into my mind, and shock locked my joints and muscles. It was though alarms were blaring in my head, but there was no instinct to compel me—only a paralyzing stillness. I was past the point of instinct. I was dying.
My daughters and sons charged the elves, then skidded to a halt when my wings did not aid them. They turned around and looked questioningly at me, then their gazes widened when they saw the haft protruding from me. They became as paralyzed as I was, staring at me with gazes filmed with horror. They realized then what I had known all along; we were all going to die. I watched them helplessly, my lips opening to scream my warning, but even as I formed the words, it was too late. The elves descended upon my children. Butterblossom was gored and sent toppling backwards. She screeched as she reached for the sword in her belly, then her scream became higher when the elf crudely tore it free, opening her soft tummy with a grotesque gash, freeing her entrails so that they unraveled in her hands. Willowflower jumped to her sister’s aid, and was decapitated. Swallowsong tried to run away, but the elves were too quick. They slashed across her back, and her shoulders pinned, her chest jutted, and she fell to her knees before me. A blade appeared through her belly, and another appeared through her breast, and then the top of her head was caved in by a mace. She stared at me from the tops of her eyes as blood dribbled from her nose and mouth, and though much of her brains had burst from her ears, she still had enough to recognize me before she pitched forward into the mud.
Then they came for me. I tried to flex my wings, but I no longer had the strength. I feebly raised my sword to defend myself, and the first strike broke it from my grip. The next elf put his steel into my side, and I folded over with a cry, feeling the cold metal piecing through my soft insides until it broke through my back, lacerating my liver. A spear drove through my belly, steeling the wind from my lungs. The flesh and fat molded around the haft as the tip bored through my guts, lanced off the blade already inside me, and grinded against its brethren metal until it burst from my back. My stomach ruptured. Blood and bile vomited up my clenching esophagus, and flowed freely from my nose and mouth. Tears glazed my eyes, but I still could see the axe come down. I screamed. The heavy blade cleaved my collar, separated my shoulder, and imbedded into my left breast. My arm went limp, my cloven trapezius muscle flapped with the broken tension of sinew, and the unsupported weight of my head caused it to roll onto the unwounded side. Another blade went in me, this one from the back. It cut through my left lung, burst through my sternum, and sprayed the man before me.
"Die, bitch!" they screamed gleefully.
"Go back to hell you fucking cunt!" they laughed.
"This ain’t the first time you’ve had five men inside you, is it Miss?" they jeered, and laughed.
I quivered for a moment, every muscle spasming, every neuron and nerve firing, my synapses ablaze with agony. They moved their blades beneath my flesh, cutting me from the inside, tearing through muscles and intestines, sawing through tendons and sinew, bursting organs. I shrieked and writhed, twisting and wrenching as the connective tissue within me was stretched and snapped. They laughed all the while, their manic grins and wide eyes filled with the thrill of my torture. They were aroused. I could see their erections through there trousers, their stiff cocks rising the higher I screamed. The axe-wielder tore his blade from my collar, and hacked off one wing, striking me once, twice, three times. My shoulders pinched back with the torment, and I thrusted my face skyward, my trembling lips uttering blood-soaked pleas. The others pushed and sawed their blade through me, cutting and tearing, opening my soft body so that the soft squishy parts spilled out. My intestines hung from my split belly, my breast swung from a loose swath of flesh, and my ruptured stomach poured acid into my opened bowels. I fell, but I did not land on my knees, for gravity caught me by the blades that were inside me, tearing me further. I was shrieking. I was devoid of all language, devoid of all thought at all but the pain. I was nothing but the pain. It ripped through me, blaring its warning at every mortal carving of my body. My hair was ripped back, my throat stretched, and the axe was raised over me. There was an arc of metal, and then I was suddenly on the ground. Wait. What was I? I was… there was… my body… my body was up there. My beautiful smooth purple flesh hand been gashed, shredded, and painted with blood, my profile had been mutilated, and… and it was headless. Where was my… oh.
Oh dear, was my last mortal thought. My vision blurred, then faded, and my mind slowly drifted to nothing.
Come back, the forest whispered, and I answered. I settled easily into the familiar place I had once occupied. The roots were my feet, the trunks were my limbs, the canopy was my hair, and… but these sensory metaphors were born from a smaller, more savage mind. No, the roots were simply the roots, the trunks were simply the trunks, and the canopy was simply thus. I was a part of it, but I was not it. I was the spirit to occupy the mind, I was the thought and the voice, I was the shepherd and the cultivator, I was the tender and the caregiver. I was the mother. Passion left me, ebbing away like dwindling coals. I grasped for it, and I kept just a little for myself. I had kept too much last time; I had let the succubus part of me take too much control of my decisions. I would not make that mistake again, nor would I make the mistake again of jettisoning her completely. She was flesh and blood, and I needed to be mindful of that side of life, for neglecting it was what had led me to this moment. Energy, serenity, peace; these were the tenants of nature, but so were fear, desire, and anger. Balance was the key, but it was obvious that one ethos was denser than the other. I had let myself be ruled in half by my passions, and my passions had taken me over. I only needed a small amount to stay connected with the fauna I shepherded.
As I adjusted myself once more to my place in the forest, I looked upon the battle that had tainted the Northern Pines. The elves had cornered the last of my children. Daisyfountain held out admirably against three men, and though she slew two of them, the third put his sword through her chest, and pinned her to the tree behind her. They were locked for a moment in an intimate embrace, and I could sense his arousal comingled with her agony. It was strange, was it not? I had felt something similar when I killed a man. When the thrill of life was at its peak, all instincts were brought to the forefront. The desire for sex overlapped with the need to kill and the fear of death, and even when I was dying in the throes of agony, so helpless and so terrified, I felt some womanly part of me open for the men taking me. And as I watched my killers laugh and toss my decapitated head amongst themselves, I did not feel a pang of rage; simply an understanding. They were terrible, but I had been terrible too. I wished them all good health and joy in their lives. As for my children… I would mourn them, yes, I would, but I would not raise another hatch for quite some time. This generation had been tainted—I had been tainted—and I would need time to reflect upon myself, and grow wiser. Perhaps Yavara had been right about me; perhaps I had let pride dull my mind. I used to think that mortal humanoids had nothing to offer me, but perhaps there was much wisdom to be gleaned from them. That being said, there was no wisdom to be found in the carnage I was witnessing. I was done with this war.
I turned my gaze away from the Northern Pines, and looked to the south. In the Maples, Rose walked beneath the autumn canopy, filling her nostrils with the sweet sap of the trees as she sought the muskier sap of a man. What wisdom could I glean from this creature that had been my daughter? I watched her saunter down the old paths, then perk her ears up, and whip her head around. Ah, she’d caught the scent of a ranging centaur. He would make a fine meal for her indeed. I smiled to myself (as much as a spirit could smile), and I found that I was oddly proud of the predatory prowess of the woman who had been my daughter. She was not an abomination like I once thought—no, she was a lioness, a tigress, a huntress of nature as graceful and spectacular as the deadliest of jungle cats. I would watch her for a long time, a silent witness to her life. She would never know me ever again, and though it was heartbreaking, it was OK. She was with me.
I felt another familiar presence, and turned my gaze northward. What I found there filled me with joy. Tulip (or Crystal as she was now known), my other lost daughter, had escaped the carnage the returning orc horde as suffered. Her daughters followed behind her, all of them accounted for, though poor Sapphire had lost an arm just below the shoulder. They struggled through the thick brush, devoid of all nymph arboreal dexterity. I chuckled to myself (as much as a spirt could chuckle), and I made their path easier by receding the bushes. They looked at each other, then looked at the sky, and smiled. Somehow, I knew they were smiling at me.
Another soul caught my attention. The presence of this creature awoke such a violent reaction within my succubus-self that I almost felt mortal again. Though she wore an illusion spell upon her flesh cast by the amputee riding in her arms, I knew her immediately for who she was. Master—or Elena, rather—was on horseback, staring out at the wreckage I’d made of my forest. She surveyed the bodies of my children, then looked up.
Arbor? she asked telepathically. How could she speak telepathically if she—ah, there was a predator within her. The vampire beneath her flesh was obvious to me now, and I could detect Adrianna’s blood within it. That was certainly a mystery, but not one that I cared to solve. Elena Straltaira was a good woman, a compelling woman, a temptress and a warrior, and she was the single reason for everything that had transpired today. History would balance Yavara and Leveria, but the fulcrum of the two was Elena, who brought chaos with her where ever she went. It did not actually surprise me that she was alive. In fact, it made perfect sense, for chaos had preceded her.
Arbor? she asked again.
I did not answer. Of all the mortals in the world, Elena Straltaira was perhaps the most interesting, but I could glean no wisdom from talking with her. She was too dangerous. I turned my gaze away from her, and looked east. There was only one other mortal who was worth my undivided attention, but I would have to wait. I would not have to wait long.
YAVARA
Leveria and I were on a secluded balcony overlooking the bay. The fog precluding the Lowland navy hadn’t yet crept into the waters, but we knew it was a matter of minutes, not hours. With what time we had before the fighting started, I set myself to training Leveria’s magic. Zander had offered his assistance, but my unique experience with Alkandi’s powers made me a more natural teacher for my sister. The old wizard just sat on a stool, and watched us. And he did look old. He looked like he’d aged a decade in a matter of hours, and though his skin hung looser on his face, he seemed to radiate with contentedness. I was almost worried for the treacherous bastard.
Leveria had a natural proclivity for telepathy, which made sense for her. She constantly tested my mind’s defenses, and delighted in every counterattack I used against her. For her, getting punched in the face by her own fist was a small price to pay to unlock the secrets of mental dominance. I made sure to teach her only the basics. She was decent enough at telekinesis, though she didn’t seem too interested in it. She only really wanted to learn how to fly, and since I couldn’t teach her that in the short amount of time we had, she was content with being able to catch and throw objects with her mind. Inferno was something she picked up frighteningly quickly, and she was soon making advanced patterns of flame with just a twirl of her fingertips. With her transforming ability already unlocked upon her metamorphosis, she only had healing left to learn, and there was nothing—and I mean nothing—about healing that came naturally to Leveria. It seemed to be against her very nature.
"I’m starting to think you’re just looking for an excuse to cut me," Leveria growled as I drew my blade across her palm.
"The fastest way to learn healing is on yourself," I said, pressing the blade harder than I needed to, "only you can feel your pain, so only you will know the true extent of the damage."
"That sounds like a load of bullshit."
"I don’t have time to play games with you now!" I snapped at her, and she shut her mouth.
You’re so fucking sexy when you’re mad, she purred into my mind.
Holy shit, what did we just talk about?!
I can’t read your mind, but I can glimpse it. You keep calling upon the way Prestira taught you magic. There’s this reoccurring memory you’re having of her… you’re bound to the mast of a ship, and she’s teaching you telekinesis by magically shoving dildos up your cunt. Why can’t we learn like that?
Because we don’t have time, stupid!
We have time enough, little sister. It could be all the time we have left. She wiggled her eyebrows.
You really thought that line would work on me, didn’t you?
I can see that it had the intended effect. You can’t help yourself.
"Is that so?" I asked, and put the knife against her codpiece. She became so violently aroused that the force of her erection broke the strap of her codpiece, and the silvery dragon flopped on her belly in the wake of her ballooning cock. I blinked. "That is one hell of a magic trick, Leveria."
"Oh… fuck!" She growled, her jaw grinding, "Can’t you just… can’t you just give me a handjob or something?"
"No."
"Then… then…" she took my wrist gingerly in her hand, guided the edge of the blade to her shaft, and gave me a coy smile.
I gave her a questioning look. "You want me to cut it off?"
"NO! I just… I just want you to cut it a little. Just a little. It’ll… it’ll help me learn healing."
"I can’t believe you’re into this shit."
"Alkandi didn’t give me my kinks, Yavara." Leveria said, pulling out a cigarette, and lighting it with her thumb, "I was born fucked up. Now cut me."
I narrowed my eyes at her, then looked down at the blade shining against her shaft. God, she had a good-looking penis. It was somehow pretty. A little pink bow around its neck would look lovely.
I can give it lipstick too if that means you’ll kiss it.
Get out of my head!
Your thoughts are so much easier for me to read now. I know I’m good, but I’m not nearly so powerful that I can breach your defenses. You’re letting your guard down.
You’re just not worth the trouble.
Leveria’s hand moved from my wrist, slid up my bicep, and rested on my shoulder. She left goosebumps all along my arm in her wake, and I shivered when her fingers stopped just short of my neck. We don’t have to keep playing these children’s games.
I tried to narrow my eyes at her, but I only barely managed to avoid gazing longingly into her cruel orange irises. I’m not playing any games at all.
Leveria slid her fingers around my throat. I didn’t stop her. I could choke you, she cooed huskily in my mind, I could rip your hair back, pin you down, and hurt you until you begged me to stop.
I shuddered from head to toe.
Her eyes flashed dangerously. Alkandi’s greatest crime was hiding your submissiveness. She thought your coyness and masochism were weaknesses, but she was so wrong. It’s your allure. It’s your power. Leveria’s fingers slid up to my cheek, and she touched my lips with her thumb. She was the wedge between us. She made us hate each other so that you would stay far away from me, lest we find the truth. Leveria pushed her thumb into my mouth. I sucked it, and moaned. What a duo we would’ve made together. My cunning and ruthlessness, your meekness and charm; we would’ve had the world in our hands.
Though I was spellbound by her silky words, and the way she gently dominated me, I maintained my autonomy. I bit tenderly on her thumb, and grinned. The world in our hands, Leveria? You would never have shared power with me.
But you would’ve known just how to steal it from me. She smirked, It’s obvious that I can’t resist you. It’s not just your magnetic masochism; it’s you, Yavara. You are my greatest opponent. We stole each other’s toys when we were children, we flaunted our beauty against each other as adolescents, then we waged war as queens, fought over the same woman, slaughtered each other’s armies, took each other’s lives, exchanged each other’s identities, and now… now we stand as partners.
I pulled her thumb out, and laughed. "Partners? You’re already plotting your next ten moves against me."
Leveria winked. "But of course I am. It’s the game we play, but to what end do we now play the game? War and death? No, we’ve done that. We’re past that."
"We’re not." I hissed, "I know what you’re planning. I don’t need to read your mind to see it. I saw it when you raised your fists before the people. I once raised my fists and prophesized conquest, but it was a lie! You weren’t lying!"
"Ah yes, because you were so merciful to my soldiers."
"I could’ve rolled your nation over in a day, and you know it!"
"Of course I knew it. I kept waiting for you to finally do it, but you never did, and I realized in the end that Elena was always right about you." Leveria’s fingers played with the hair on the back of my neck. "Yes, you were violent and brutal, but you didn’t really mean it. You were a pretender, and I wasn’t. That’s why I destroyed you." She sighed, and dropped her head, touching our brows, "I am a conqueror. When I want something, I take it. When you want something, you give it. That is the difference between us."
"If all goes as planned, what’s to stop me from ordering Peter Shordian to level Alkandra to dust?"
Leveria grinned. "Nothing at all, except you."
"You really think I won’t?"
"No," she whispered, her black-sheened lips inches from my own, "because this is your home, and one day, you will come back to it."
"I will be the queen of the Highlands!"
"The last queen of the Highlands." She said, her breath in my mouth, in my nostrils, so sweet, "I crippled that nation with debt. Once the army is disbanded, you’ll smelt their armor for the worth of the metal, dismantle siege engines for the lumber, and sell the horses for meat, and even then, you will not have covered a fraction of what you owe Balamora and the Bearded Peaks. You won’t be able to raise more than ten-thousand men for the next fifty years."
"Then I should destroy you while I still have the chance." I whispered against her lips; so plump and moist.
She smiled, flicked the ash from her cigarette, and sucked from it, teasing me with those black-sheened lips of hers. The embers glowed hot from the end of the square when she pulled it from her mouth, and blew smoke into my eyes. "Alkandi may not be with you, Yavara, but you are still Alkandran." She whispered, and lowered the cigarette between us, "When you go back to the Highlands and squat on Peter Shordian’s limp cock, you’ll close your eyes and remember how you used to get fucked." Her face illuminated from beneath, the orange embers complimenting the captivating glow of her evil eyes. "You’ll have a couple of children, settle into your role as queen and mother, and let the time roll by. But there will always be something. An itch you can’t scratch. A hunger you can’t satiate." Leveria opened my leather cutout, and pulled out my breast. I hardly noticed. I was entranced by her mouth as it formed her evil, delicious words. "One day, you will come to me all dressed in modest royal garb, and you’ll present yourself with the nobility and propriety expected of you. Perhaps you’ll say it is a diplomatic mission, or maybe a show of strength in the Dark Queen’s own court, but you and I will know why you really came to me." She pinched my nipple, and rolled it between her thumb and finger until I was purring like a kitten for her. "And you’ll know, Yavara, when I reveal the apparatus that I prepared for you, that I have not spent my time idly." Leveria laughed to herself. "It’s strange, when I was queen of the Highlands, I often fantasized about how I would torture you. I suppose this will be different." Her smirk turned wicked. "But not much different."
She pressed the hot embers to my nipple, and I cried out, flinging my head skyward. The pain lanced through my breast like a searing blade, and drew a line through my chest, my core, my pelvis, and into my pulsing nethers. My eyes welled with tears, my throat constricted with tension, and my pussy salivated with desire. My clit thrummed and ached with such need that the brush of fabric against it was such exquisite torture, and I rubbed my thighs together to make that torture worse. Leveria held me close, embracing me with such affection as she twisted the cigarette against my abused nipple. Her breath was rapid and hot against me, and her cock was bulging into my pelvis, throbbing wildly. My cry sputtered out into a whimper, and then a moan of pure lust crawled straight from my chest. Leveria was there to intercept the moan with her mouth, and her tongue slipped past my lips to paint saliva into my mouth. I kissed her back, moaning mindlessly, wilting into her arms, melting into her breasts. Her hard cock slipped between my leather-bound legs, and I felt it bare against the cutout in my crotch, the tantalizing hard heat of it sliding along my drooling slit. She could have me. She could have all of me. She could play out her darkest desires upon my flesh, and I would weep with joy to be so degraded. My thighs pillowed around her seeking shaft, and she thrusted as though fucking them, sliding her cock back and forth through my petals, smearing her juices with mine. I was ready. I was beyond ready. My pride didn’t mean shit, my autonomy was worth trash. I would be her slave! I would crawl like a dog at her heel and wallow endlessly in masochistic pleasure!
"No!" I gasped, and pushed her away.
Leveria looked perplexed. She took a step toward me, and I sent her sprawling on her ass with a telekinetic blast.
"Stay back!" I yelled.
She raised her head from the stones, and rubbed at her battered elbows. Behind her, Zander’s staff glowed a threatening shade of red.
"It’s your damn succubus-incubus-whatever-the-fuck magic; that’s all it is!" I snarled, pointing an accusing finger at her, "I’m not immune to it anymore. I am not Alkandran! I never fucking was! Stay back, Fredeon, or I’ll fucking crisp you!"
Zander stopped in his tracks. Leveria got to her feet, and splayed her hands out defensively. "Yavara, you need to—"
"I don’t need to do a fucking thing you say, Leveria!" I growled, and leveled my finger at her, "I won’t be one of your tools. When all this is over, we are through, you understand? I will leave with the army, and you will stay behind, and I will never see your face again."
"What about our deal?"
"Fuck our deal! Any deal with you is a fucking trap, but you… oh you, arrogant bitch; you tried to spring your trap early on me! You thought you could seduce me like I’m some desperate virgin slut? You thought I would just give in to you?! YOU?!" I spat on the stones between us, "You said we were square yesterday. Fine, we’re square. We’re done. We don’t owe each other shit, not a year from now, not ten years from now."
Leveria’s face drew gaunt with impending tears. Lies, all lies with her. "Yavara," she said softly, "don’t make us enemies again."
"You shameless cunt." I laughed disbelievingly, "I never wanted to be your enemy! It wasn’t Alkandi that made us enemies! It was you! It was always YOU! I spent my whole life trying to get away from you, but you wouldn’t fucking let me go! Well, Leveria, guess what? I’m fucking leaving! I’m not coming back! And if I even get a whiff that you’re raising an army against me, then you’ll see how much of a ‘pretender’ I fucking am!"
Leveria raised her hand, then faltered. Her gaze drew from me, to the place over my shoulder. I felt the wrath leave me, and the residual arousal filtered away with it. A chill crawled up my spine. I turned around. Out over the Alkandran Bay, before the spiny outline of the Alkandran Horn, a dense fog was rolling steadily towards us.
This story was taken from one these sites, check them out to find more sex stories:
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