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  • Adventures of the Wolf Spiders Ch. 01

Adventures of the Wolf Spiders Ch. 01

12

The travelers' eyes were closing one by one as the sun waned from orange to pink and the fireflies emerged to float like lost ghosts. Her singing seemed to come from the forest all around them, far away. Lithe fingertips softly brushed the strings of her harp, and the scene in the quiet grotto blended their day's labors seamlessly into their dreams. The song's language was foreign to them, but as each of them drifted off it filled them with the treasured memories of their pasts and contentment that the future's mysteries would be happy ones. Her voice, the harp, and the ambiance of the forest were one wandering opera that did not cease until the travelers were asleep and the moon had bathed her in its pale blue light.

She let out a soft breath through her pale glistening lips and turned her face to the beams of the moon. She closed her eyes and let them wash over her. To her they were as the warming rays of the sun.

Tatiana was what they called her. She was a young half- drow, barely 57, and she favored her mother's elven features. Long slender ears pointed out from her frost- blue hair, wreathed in flowers. In the moonlight her skin was a pure snow white. Her delicate silken gown drifted about her silhouette in the breeze like the moon's own rays washing over her.

Tatiana placed her harp against the stone on which she languidly reposed and opened her eyes to the comforting sight of the full moon. Suddenly she gasped. The moon was dominating the horizon now as if it had bent down to the world to embrace her, but it was marred by the dark outline of the one who wouldn't be comforted by her song: the young human noble Severin of the House Greymor.

The figure was only a black shadow surrounded in the halo of the moon. Aside from the breeze swaying his wild hair and cape he was motionless. One hand rested on the pommel of his malevolent sword, its point against the earth, and the other held a rose to his face with two gloved fingertips. Presently he released the flower to tumble to the ground, and turned his face slightly toward her.

"It's time, drow." His voice dripped with the venom of arrogance and a core- deep hatred of her kind. She felt her pulse quicken and cold fear spreading outward from her heart. Tatiana glanced desperately at her comrades scattered in peaceful slumber in the grotto. She saw the dwarf Vlad's barrel chest rise and fall in the moonlight. Rictus was curled up with his wineskin, platinum hair wreathing his head. The ranger Thorne and the halfling Gnat were nowhere to be seen; dozing in the deepest shadows. Lyra the human wizard and Mouse the gnome were asleep together over the pages of some huge tome.

Reluctantly Tatiana turned her pale blue eyes back toward the fearsome warlock. Her lip quivered and she swallowed, then, accepting her fate, she extended her hand out to him. Severin reflexively turned his shoulders toward her, then stopped himself. Tatiana had calculated that his human traditions in a noble house would evoke his manners, and she was right. After a short battle between his contempt and his training, he extended a leather clad hand to hers and helped her to her feet.

"This way," he said coldly. She nodded with wide eyes and followed. The bells on her anklets were a merry sound, though her short walk was frightful. Her translucent gown swam over her pale curves as she followed the dreaded warlock into the forest.

Severin was young for a human, only 18. This was apparently his first journey from the house of his father into a world he regarded with condescension. He had brought with him his family's sense of superiority, their hereditary distrust of performers, and a bitterness for his fellows that was all his own. Still, Tatiana could tell that she disarmed him in some ephemeral way, and that whether for better or for worse, she was special to him. It was this last uncertain condition that she knew she must seize upon if she wanted to control what happened next.

It was only a short walk through the forest to where Severin had made his pyre. Pillars of moonlight penetrated the canopy and marked the way. Only the faraway sound of her bells filled the minutes. Soon she saw it; a stone ruin of some vulgar human structure on a small hilltop. The forest was reclaiming it. Severin's fire made it glow from the inside. Smoke with a curious green tint rose through great cracks in the roof.

Without offering an invitation, Severin entered and turned on a heel to face her. He stood, arms crossed, with his usual dour expression pointed at her as she hesitated in the door frame. Her wide blue eyes moved this way and that over the bare, ruined interior. The warlock was illuminated by the strange pyre flames and fully visible to the first time since the party had chosen that comforting clearing.

He had a shock of jet black hair, with locks that somehow formed sharp points and covered half of his pale face. His features were all cold, fine, and hard as though they had been chipped from flint, though they were the color of memorial marble. Below his thin neck he was clad to his toes in black leather armor crisscrossed in buckled straps.

He sighed impatiently. "Come in, drow. If I wanted to kill you..." he drew his wicked sword, "...I would have done it already."

Tatiana was the picture of helplessness and innocence with her pouting lower lip as she took a few steps into the bare ruin. She did her best to widen her eyes and swing her shoulders as she stepped over a few fallen stones.

"Now," he held the ugly weapon between them in both hands, "as I commanded. Blood, and hair."

Tatiana's wide eyes shifted to the pyre beside them. Between the dancing flames, could she make out a figure? It burned in green, barely visible if she focused on it, yet she was sure she could see something as insubstantial as the flames themselves.

"Is that..." her voice nearly cracked.

"My patron," he replied. "This is so he knows who you are. That's the only way I can ever trust you."

She took one more step toward the warlock, her head down, eyes wide and fixed on the blade that hovered before her face.

"As you wish, m'lord," she purred softly. Her full lips parted and she extended the tip of her tongue to the blade's edge. Severin expression hardened and he raised one eyebrow. her eyes never left his as she gave the blade a quick, gentle lick and a single drop of her dark ruby blood raced down the edge. At this he blinked and took half a step back before straightening up and clearing his throat.

"And now..." he began. Interrupting him, she took a thin lock of her sky colored hair and sheared it off on the blade.

"They are yours, my lord." Turning her eyes to the fire, she said, "and yours."

Severin's eyes narrowed and he seemed stuck to the floor for a moment. Then he frowned and turned his eyes to the flames. He cut through the air with his blade, whipping her blood drop into the fire. She followed by tossing in the severed blue lock. At this the flames rose higher, greener, and the shape of two bat like wings seemed to rise from the pyre wood and disappear into the night sky above. From the flames came a gravelly voice that said just one word, in Tatiana's native under- common language.

It said, "Aunrae," and was gone.

When Severin heard this an evil grin spread across his thin lips and he spun around to face her. He found her closer and he stalled for a moment as his eyes met hers. She took another step and pressed herself totally against him. Her shift was as gossamer and despite his leather shell, he could feel her body as if the two of them were bare. Before he could even react, her hand was coiling around his, which was in turn clutching the pommel of his sword. Her other hand was already smoothly working loose of the buckles that crossed his slim form.

"Amongst my people," he could feel her breath, her words on his lips, "we have other ways of making peace." His sword clattered to the stone floor. "They are more pleasant than yours," the buckle popped open and his jerkin, strapped so tightly to his form, yawned open to reveal his hard, lithe chest. "...for both of us." Her last words here a whisper, her lips only barely brushing against his own.

Severin could barely muster a protest as she slid her gentle hand against his chest. She breathed a sigh of pleasure as she caressed it, fingertips gliding over the taut muscles. Her other hand worked loose another buckle and she slid the thick leather down over his shoulders. His form was slight, but wiry. The firelight glowed over his chest and seemed to make it even more defined.

The warlock took a step back and found himself against the wall. "What... what is the meaning..."

She put one bare foot before the other as though she were walking a tight rope, and she knew that in a way she was. Her eyes had taken on the demeanor of a hungry wolf as she wrapped both hands around his waist belt. Their eyes locked, a scant few inches apart, she opened his trousers and began to work them down his slender hips.

"Not like this... not... with a drow..."

Tatiana was sliding the glove from his sword hand. "Then touch only my human side," she placed his naked hand over her breast and relished his moan. It was working; even this vile human would soon be swooning for her and begging. Careful, she thought. No one knows what could happen with an emotional, sensitive young human.

She leaned back to study his face in the firelight. His eyes were darting over her generous curves, searching for where the fabric clung close enough to her body, or to the edges to see even just a little more of her exotic skin.

He caught her gaze and she returned her most gentle smile. She moistened her lips with her tongue slowly. He withdrew his hand with reluctance, and Tatiana reached down to grasp his open belt again. She struggled to pull them lower while he panted.

Finally the swollen head of his young, thirsty cock wriggled into view above his waist. At this he threw his head back and moaned out loud. Tatiana suppressed a giggle at this. Human boys are so fragile. They want you to believe they are fearless warriors, but they can be controlled completely by only a small patch of their flesh. Well, not so small... she smiled.

She raised her index finger to his lips. His eyes were glassy and his bare hairless chest rose and fell quickly.

"You are... a witch..." he struggled with the words.

"And you are my warlock," came her soft retort. She softly pressed her finger between his lips and he closed them around it, sucking and licking it despite himself. Soon she withdrew it and traced it down the front of his heaving chest. First, over his heartbeat pounding like horse's hooves. Still slick with his spit, it slid over his washboard stomach and to his sensitive navel.

She hesitated just before it reached the tip of his eager cock, and gasped theatrically at the lewd drop of precum that had formed there. Severin bit his lip. After what seemed like an eternity to his juvenile mind, she descended, and did nothing more than to place her fingertip to cover the slit there.

Severin moaned and clutched her waist with both hands, greedily pulling her body against his. She let him and felt his rock hard cockhead press into her soft flesh. She obliged him by rolling her hips against him, causing his breath to catch in his throat. A man is easier to play than a harp, she thought.

His leather trousers and scabbard fell to the floor and the warlock nearly toppled with them. This didn't slow him down in the least, and soon he was burying his face against her exposed collarbone. His lips closed in small, wet kisses against her skin, and soon her eyes were closing slowly. As her hand traveled down the small of his back and over his smooth, dimpled ass, she let out an earnest moan.

This inexperienced young human was exciting her after all with his eagerness and shameless exploration of her body. She admired the sight of his well muscled form, hairless and pale like a statue in the flickering firelight. Perhaps she could drain him again and again throughout the night, until the sun rose on the smoking embers of the pyre, or until he simply lost consciousness in her tender embrace. She imagined him, bleary eyed and staggering on the road tomorrow. Yes, she thought. I'll milk him until his legs are as sure as a newborn calf's. I'll please him until his ecstasy turns to painful spasms.

Tatiana moistened and ground her sex against his erection. Their wetness joined and soon he was bucking his hips against her through her silken gown. She clutched his buttock and encouraged his thrusts with earnest moans of her own. He gripped her gown and pulled at it desperately.

"Be careful young master," she whispered. "You'll only tear my clothes. They're very expensive, you know." Although found it hard to care, so tickled was she by his passion.

"Please," was his response. She smiled.

Tatiana turned him to face the fire and ran her hands up and down his pale, naked body. Her fingers closed around his throbbing cock and she began to stroke it slowly, slathering his precum up and down his shaft. "Shall we give your patron something to know you by?"

She turned her head to look up at him. With her lips slightly parted, blue hair framing her lovely face, and deep blue eyes searching his, his body rebelled. He let her stroke him, and it was only a few heartbeats before his mind went blank and his ejaculation shot like a torrent in great arcs into the fire.

The coals hissed and smoked where it landed, again and again, as he gripped the back of her head and moaned. The green flames rose for a second time and the unholy voice bellowed "Severin!"

The warlock looked down at her with glassy eyes and panted. She closed her eyes and opened them slowly, letting him see a genuine smile. Her hand continued to slide up and down his tender wet cock. It was extra sensitive now, but had not softened in the least.

Tatiana planted kisses on his angular hips and felt her own excitement flow down her lap. This will be fun she imagined, regarding his insatiable lust in her hand. What will this tireless boy feel like inside me?

Finally she stood and placed a hand firmly on his chest, pushing him back. There is something terribly erotic about an insatiable young virgin, she thought, eyes traveling down his body to his throbbing cock. He let her push him to the bare stone floor. She dragged her hand down his body and let it slide over his penis, wet and sticky from them both.

Her hand rested below it, gently kneading his sack and deliberately neglecting his leaking cock sticking straight up into the brisk night air. His thin hips rose and fell in small, involuntary thrusts. She brought her face close to his cock and stared into his half- closed eyes, letting her lips part slightly and her breaths only barely reach his twitching head.

Slowly, she licked her full, pouting lips. Then, staring into his face, she leaned in ever so slightly and gave the underside of his cock a wet kiss.

Instantly he cried out and his cum arced through the air for a second time. Tatiana cried "oh!" and simply watched in lurid fascination as the young lord shot jet after jet of thick cum up onto his own heaving chest.

Severin's knuckles whitened and his orgasm never seemed to end. Her eyes widened and she marveled at its protraction. She finally had the presence of mind to squeeze his balls softly, as if to empty him.

At last he lay naked on the bare stone floor, wearing only a shine of sweat and streaks of his own seed. Tatiana moaned and planted gentle kisses on the inside of his thighs. Her fingertips caressed his legs as his cock made it's last few leaps. She rose above him and reached for the single clasp that held her sheer frock around her body. She was positively soaked after the warlock's shameless display. Her own heart pounded in her chest.

Severin's cock was still as hard as ever. Her eyes narrowed wickedly on it. "And now Master Greymor, you'll know what a woman's body feels like." He rose to his elbows when a great shadow covered them both. Severin's eyes widened in terror and before Tatiana could even turn around, a great clatter filled the ruin.

Tatiana spun and there stood the hulking form of the orc Gedmog, the forest paladin. He had cast his rusted and broken armor to the floor and now stood in a loincloth. His dark skin was stuck with thorns here and there and crisscrossed with scratches from the underbrush. Leaves and vines still clung to his huge muscular frame.

Gedmog's voice was a terrifying rumble that shattered the still of the early summer's night. "That's the witch that charmed me at Bystone!" He bellowed. Tatiana tried to scramble away from him, but his strong arm lanced out and gripped her wrist.

Severin leapt to his feet, nubile tender cock still hard, eyes searching for his sword. He cursed when he saw it lay by the pyre on the other side of the furious orc. Gedmog battered him back to the floor with the back of his other hand.

Without sparing a word for the warlock, he turned back to Tatiana. He grabbed her other arm and held both of her wrists in one massive fist. The feral orc lifted her up off the floor like a puppet and regarded her. She whimpered in fear.

"I'll teach you to take control of the mind of a paladin!"

"Gedmog!" she pleaded. "Don't kill me! I was only..."

"You only forced your way into my mind! I cannot violate your mind as you did to me, but I can violate your body!"

Severin descended on the orc, battering his frame with bare fists. He may as well have been pummeling the stone wall. Gedmog didn't even release the elf as he grabbed Severin's head and threw it back. The boy's body bounced over what had been the ruin's hearth. The wind was knocked out of him, and he found he couldn't open his left eye.

"Now stay there, human! Don't move, or I'll kill you both."

Severin could only cough blood and struggle. He tried to protest, but Gedmog roared over him.

"Stay right where you are and watch what I do to your elf whore."

"N... no..." struggled Severin. Despite it all, his young dick was still hard as the hearthstones beneath him.

Gedmog used his free hand to tear away the ratty loincloth he wore. His great thick orcish cock swung into the air and landed with a splat onto Tatiana's cleavage.

She shouted in dismay. The thing was long and thick as her arm, and coated in the slime of his arousal. Pulsing just inches from her helpless face, it smelled like the earth. Tatiana's eyes begged the orc, but he only grinned and slid it back and forth across her heaving breasts.

Her breath caught in her throat and she found herself mesmerized by it. Tatiana's mouth began to water and she arched her back slightly to raise her heaving breasts to him. When it slid across her stone-hard nipples she couldn't suppress a low moan.

Tatiana couldn't help that she was still hot from her tryst with the young warlock. She dreaded what would happen if Gedmog discovered this. Begging didn't seem like it would get her out of this situation. She had only one option left to her if she didn't want to be savagely violated by this huge angry monster.

Her lips moved in a whisper, quickly in the native tongue of her people in the underdark. Woven into her words was an enchantment to charm the paladin. Perhaps her full heart wasn't in the incantation, because his angry eyes widened when he realized what she was doing.

"Get out of my mind, elf!" he bellowed and cast her to the flagstones. His orc fist closed around some of her fine, sheer shift and in one swift motion he tore the single garment from her body. Tatiana was on her knees facing away from him now. Her curves made the shape of her heart toward him and her arousal was apparent as it ran down her legs.

12
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