|
Woman of the Sword, Chapter 2
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Woman of the Sword
------------------
Chapter Two
------------------
A hushed silence fell over the assembled noviciates as Kia was led into
the Opening chamber. This grand hall, more glorious than any other room
in the Home, was reserved only for the most solemn of occasions, the
passage into full Sisterhood of a new Swordswoman. Escorted by elder
Sisters, Kia wore not the white tunic of a noviciate, but rather a
diaphonous scarlet wrap, reserved only for this occasion. It was only a
week since her eighteenth birthday, and today, she became a Swordswoman.
A strong sense of magic was in the room, so powerful that even the
youngest noviciate could sense it, as it touched all present. Not an
evil magic, this, but restorative, healing, blessing in its touch. Kia
was led to the dias, where a small stone pillar held a Sword. She
shuddered as she first saw it, for it seemed to call to her, the
faintest of whispers, a gentle inquiry. Her blood pounded within her as
the Ritual continued, the prayers and incantation a mere buzz in the
background as the Sword probed her mind, deeper now, judging her worth.
Finally, satisfied, the Sword spoke, to her alone, its name, sharing its
Power with her. She knew what she must now do.
Shrugging her shoulders, the scarlet wrap whispered to the floor.
Radiant in her nudity, she stepped forward, grasping the scabbarded
Sword by the hilt. A tiny Thrill began in her, spreading outward from
her palm like a lover's caress. Discarding the scabbard, she held the
gleaming steel high, for all to see, then lowered the hilt, blade
upright, until the pommel rested between her heaving breasts. Blade
steady before her face, she moved the hilt lower still, until her hands
were at the level of her hips and the butt of the Sword brushed her
mound. Slowly now, scarcely daring to breath, she allowed the
point of the Sword to slowly lower, until she held it vertically before
her, its hilt against her sex. Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, she
closed her eyes, and as her thighs spread of their own volition, she
spoke a Word.
The hilt of the Sword came alive in her hand, no longer cold, dead steel
but instead warm, living flesh, as it probed into her folds. Swelling
against her, it sought entrance, and with a surge, drove past her
maidenhead to fill her more completely than she had ever known. Her
maiden-blood flowed onto the Sword and now it came fully alive, pulsing,
and the Thrill exploded through Kia in all its glory, causing her to sink
slowly to her knees, crying out, tears streaming from her face.
The Sword had accepted her. She was a girl no longer. She was a
Swordswoman.
***
The smell of roasted meat, and woodsmoke, drifted across the small
forest campsite as night began its inexorable conquest of day. In the
lingering light, Kia smiled across the small cookfire at Petra, her
mentor and companion. The tall redheaded Sister was accompanying Kia on
her first few trips into the world, for no amount of classroom training,
no amount of role-play, could prepare a Swordswoman for the things that
would be required of her in performing her duties. Kia was nominally in
charge on this expedition, a simple trip to deliver a message, but Petra
stood close at hand, watching, ready to offer advice or aid.
The two had hit it off instantly when first introduced. Petra was an
active Swordswoman, and had many stories to tell, and much to teach Kia.
They had been on the road together for six months, and in that short
time had delivered their message to King Arkol in the north, dispatched
a small band of highwaymen, and settled a land dispute in one of the
small baronys they passed through. In that time, Kia's beauty had
blossomed, muscles firmed and shaped from the rigors of the road, and
she had gotten to know both herself and her Sword much better.
The night was warm, and both women were bare to the waist, tunics drying
next to the fire from the late afternoon rain they had encountered.
There was no modesty between them. They had already shared a bedroll on
more than one chill evening.
Petra leaned forward, about to serve herself another bite of the
delicious roast rabbit, when she suddenly froze. "What was that?," she
said, all senses keenly aware. An owl, out early, hooted plaintively.
"I didn't hear anything," Kia whispered, looking about.
"There!," Petra responded. "To the east..."
Now Kia heard it, the clatter of hooves, horses being ridden hard, some
distance up the road but approaching rapidly. Both women scrambled into
damp tunics and drew steel by hand rather than invoking the powers in
their Swords. No need to announce one's present with magic when facing
an unknown, each thought. Petra had taught Kia well. The women took up
positions alongside the road. It was too late to extinguish the
cookfire, for the lingering aroma would expose their presence anyway.
So well hidden they were, that they recognized the rider before he saw
them. Spotting the fire, he reined his mount to a stop as both women
saw that it was young Akun, the free apprentice to the village smith in
a small community they had passed through earlier in the day. A
strapping young man of nineteen, his muscular build had interested them
both as he toiled, sweating, at his master's forge. They had
both grinned as he respectfully, without trying to touch, marvelled at
the beauty and craftsmanship of their Swords. They stepped out to greet
him, sheathing their Swords, as the young man stepped down from his
foaming mount. Two other horses stood panting alongside, riderless,
their leads tied to Akun's saddle.
"Swordswomen, I, uh, you must come quickly!" The young man was nearly
as breathless as his mount. "I hoped to find you, I've been riding
since noon...." He stumbled and collapsed, falling face down. Kia
gasped at the sight of the short crossbow bolt, impaled in his right
shoulder. The women rushed to his aid, Kia already murmuring the
beginnings of a Healing spell as Petra examined his wound.
An hour later, Akun was seated by the fire, a lingering stiffness in his
shoulder that would be gone by morn. He took a sip of the steaming cup
of tea Petra handed him, and continued his story.
"...and so, not long after you had left, the riders came. Eight, there
were, each on mounts as black as night. They came into town at once
from three directions, striking down any who would stand in their way.
At least twelve were killed, and many more wounded. Our small Guard
stood not a chance, though they fought valiantly, and the riders showed
no mercy. When it was over, they escaped to the north, bearing our
small treasury and the innkeeper's daughter. I fear, good Swordswomen,
that she is in alliance with them, for she seemed to go quite willingly.
And we were to be betrothed!," he spat.
The women exchanged glances. "Go on," Kia urged.
"At least their escape was not totally clean, for we killed one of the
bastards, and captured another. He lies in irons at my master's
smithy, awaiting your judgement."
"Excellent, and well done. That shall be our key to capturing the
rest," Kia exclaimed. "Fear not, Akun, this shall not go unpunished.
They can't have gotten far today. We ride in the morning."
"But, we must go NOW!," Akun stammered, "or we shall lose them for
sure."
"Trust us," purred Petra, still massaging the young man's shoulder. "No
one escapes Swordswomen when they put their minds, and their Swords, to
the task. Besides, I think you are not quite ready to ride. You are
still in need of healing." Giving a knowing glance to Kia, who had
already risen and stepped alongside, she pushed the dark-haired man back
onto a blanket.
"But, but...," he attempted to protest, but the words were cut off by
the soft press of Kia's lips against his, the insistent press of her
tongue. No man could resist a Swordswoman's will, much less
two of them, and he sighed, giving himself up to the pleasures they
offered. His manhood was painfully erect and throbbing by the time
Petra undid his leather jerkin and sucked him into her warm, velvety
mouth. Somehow, both women were suddenly naked, and the remainder of
his garb seemed to melt away as well when Kia turned and lowered her
musky sex to his mouth.
***
Had it been a dream? He wondered to himself as the three rode, fast, up
the forest road to his home village. He had to admit to himself, that,
if this was healing, then he was willing to be wounded again, anytime.
His shoulder felt perfectly normal, and he had never slept so well in
his life. Nor had he ever experienced an ecstacy such as that. He
recalled the blond woman sitting astride his hips, his manhood sheathed
in a canal so impossibly tight, warm and wet, the dark one kneeling
behind her, licking at their carnal juncture, her breath and tongue hot
against his swollen sac. The blond had leaned forward, pert breasts
bobbing before his face, and whispered a Word that he heard so clearly
and now could not remember. He recalled a flash of steel as her Sword
somehow appeared in her hand.
Then there was nothing but exquisite pleasure, coursing through him from
their hot joining, exploding into tiny pinpoints of light and wonder as
he came like never before, over and over, into the milking, pulsing,
radiant warmth, one orgasm becoming incredibly, endlessly, another.
Kia had shared with him, as a final act of healing, a tiny taste, a
sample, of the Thrill. Somehow, as they rode onward, he knew that his
life would never be the same, and he saw his fate forever linked with
that of the beautiful blond Swordswoman.
|
|
