Within Tagor’s tent, Master and Slave joined as one. The grip at her hips tightened minutely as he jerked her down hard upon him a final three times. The third time, he groaned, pinning her in place, suckling at her breast once again. She felt him swell within her a moment before there was a pulsating warmth. Her head fell back and she cried to the heavens as she reached her peak.
“Usstan tlun elggor! Xal l’Quar’valsharess dormagyn uns’aa!” (“I am dying! May the Goddess save me!”)
Something quite unexpected happened as she reached her own orgasm…there was an itchy, spiky feeling that suffused her entire body that grew steadily worse the longer he pumped his seed into her.
She clenched around him tightly, as she experienced another gut-wrenching sensation and she cried out as a light glow, her magic, lit her skin like a candle. There was a snapping sound and the bracelets around her wrists snapped in two, falling to the ground with a light thud.
At the same time the glow was lighting Ilyra’s body, the Shaman woman’s cries of completion ended her spell, allowing for the bracelets that Ilyra had been wearing for 10 years to fall free. The Shaman collapsed beneath the Njada male behind her, breathing heavily, pleased that her spell had worked.
Free for the first time in over 10 years, Ilyra’s magic exploded within her, causing her to cry out in shock. The magical backlash she experienced, as her magical pathways regenerated and healed her body, mind and soul caused the poor slave girl to collapse in the arms of her Master, unconscious.
As she succumbed to the darkness…she sensed a second aura aside from her own. A tear slipped from her eye, as cool and bright as a snowflake. For the first time…she was to produce an issue from a union with a Master.
And that it was to be born of the man who freed her made her happier then she ever thought possible.
She could not return to her homeland. Tagor and his people…they were her people now.
Outside his tent Jamai was pacing back and forth, too scared to enter. This was so unlike Tagor. A few other men had not gotten up either to tend to their horses, and this was most uncommon. Jamai decided that the servants would have to put in the extra work load…at least for today. That in mind, he headed off to the stables, leaving the two guards stationed outside the Leader’s tent.
Back inside, Tagor was starting to stir. His eyelids opened, and then he felt the warmth of Ilyra’s body upon his. A smile creased his features, and he placed a kiss upon her head. This would be the first day of the rest of their lives together.
“Good Morrow, Master.” she whispered to him, unware of the fact that with her magic now free, they could understand one another. “Last night…was simply wonderful. I’ve never experienced such sensations before.” She then noticed her bracelets were missing and her eyes lit up with delight.
“I am free.” she stated in awe. Feeling brave, she pressed a light kiss to his chest in thanks for her newfound freedom. There were still some lingering aches from her magic being returned to her but for the most part, she was feeling grand. She gave herself a once over before something made her pause. She doublechecked…and discovered a second aura overlapping her own. Examining it more closely, her eyes went wide and the memories of what occured just before she collapsed flashed through her mind and she gasped, sitting up quickly beside him, a hand splayed over the still-flat planes of her stomach. She could feel the aura of the new life within her against her hand. She turned her head to look at him, eyes filled with wonder. “I’m to have a baby…”
She would be surprised to know that he understood every word she said.
Two young servants of the Njada came in, one carrying pitchers of water, the other with a bag of clothing and then they descended on their knees before Ilyra.
“Togar wants you clean and dressed, Ilyra of Njada.”
What would her reaction be?
Inside the tent, he had rolled her over, moving down her body until his lips and tongue feasted hungrily between her legs. She cried out in shock, a whole new set of feelings crashing against her as he lapped at her inner folds. Her fingers slid into his hair of their own volition, gripping tightly as she rode the wave of passion. Limp and sated, she could barely function as he turned her over and rode her hard to his own climax, filling her to the brim with his virile seed, roaring with completion.
They were both breathless, shivering and trembling against each other, his forehead pressed against her back, an arm around her waist as they came down from their clouds of desire. He pulled away from her after some time and began to dress. She watched him, her naked body covered in the furs of his bedroll. He looked at her one final time, a grin on his lips, before releasing the ties on tent flap and stepping out into the light of day. She could hear his deep voice ordering Jamai to have servants come and help her clean and dress.
A short while later, as she was finishing her breakfast, two young servants entered, one carrying a ewer of water, the other a bag of clothing as they knelt at her side with a short bow. She frowned at this. She was as much a slave as they were. Why would they show her such respect?
By claiming her as his, Tagor had effectively announced her changed status as his mate and mother of his future children. She was unaware of this fact however, something the servants that had come to her were sure to inform her of.
“Tagor wants you clean and dressed, Ilyra of Njada.” the one on the left spoke. Ilyra’s eyes widened.
“Why do you call me such?” she wondered, genuinely curious. The two servants looked at one another in surprise.
“You do not know?”
“No.” Ilyra shook her head.
“You are first woman, slave or not, who has captured our Master’s interest since previous woman died trying to give birth to his child.” Ilyra’s mouth dropped open in shock.
“How long ago was this?” she wondered.
“Many moons now. Woman long gone to dust beneath the earth.”
“And the child?”
“Died shortly afterward.” the servant on the right stated. Ilyra pressed a hand to her lips, saddened for her Master.
“Do not shed tears for Master, Ilyra of Njada. You are Tagor’s woman now. Bear him fine sons and daughters. Make Tagor happy again. We wash and dress you as befitting a mate of Njada.” Stunned with these revelations, she was subjected to their tender care. They washed her body with the finest of cloths, paying careful attention to her sex. He had been rough with her, but not too rough to cause injury but there was a lingering soreness. She would get used to that over time until it would no longer matter.
Once she was clean and dry, they dressed her in a free flowing gown of midnight blue that went beautifully with her skin and hair. It had no sleeves and draped in such a way as to show off her markings as a Winter Elf. Next they combed and treated her hair to scented oils until it glowed with a natural light, making her eyes stand out within her face.
One of the girls carried a small box, which she presented to Ilyra with a small bow. “As you are of Njada, you must wear this.” She opened the box to reveal a claw-shaped pendant. Etched along the side were protection runes.
“It’s lovely.” Ilyra nodded. The pendant was removed from the box and clasped around her neck and she was suffused with a sudden, familiar warmth. She touched a hand to it. “This is Tagor’s.” she stated with conviction. The servants shared another look.
“Yes. You will do, Ilyra of Njada, Elf of the Winter.” the young servant nodded. “Come. Master waits, for we begin our journey home. One day, one night we travel.” The girls waited for Ilyra to leave the tent before following behind her. It was something she wasn’t used to but she supposed she would have to, now that she knew what was expected.
As Illyra emerged from her tent, she was in full view of Tagor, who snapped his fingers and spoke in a dark tone.
“Bring her gift.”
A boy brought out the white horse and it was then paraded around in a circle as Tagor got up from his seat and walked across to the boy, who stopped and handed Tagor the leather reigns. Tagor then gestured to Illyra.
One word…that meant so much. To give her a steed that she would be riding home on. Riding along side the leader of the Njada. It was more than an honor…more than privilege. It elevated her status to that which would be like a Queen amongst the Njada.
Many of the Njada whispered. The woman now looked stunning in her blue gown and claw tooth necklace. No longer wearing the binds of slavery. The slaves themselves were in awe. How had she managed to attain this and with the leader of the Njada no doubt. It was sure to be the talk of the people as they prepared to head home later in the day.
“She’s beautiful.” Ilyra whispered, brushing a hand across the mare’s neck.
“Yours.” Tagor simply said. There were murmurs and gasps of surprise around them as the full meaning of what he stated hit home. A simple slave had gone from warming their leader’s furs and slaking his lusts, to having a horse of her own and riding at his side. There had to be some kind of magic involved with this. A few of the Njada women were glaring at Ilyra with outright hostility. She ignored all of this in favor of gracing Tagor with a bright smile.
“Thank you, Master.” she stated. More whispers surrounded him, those within hearing range surprised that she still called him “Master”. And yet she did not wear the binds of slavery. What was going on? Had she truly bewitched him? Or was there something more deeper going on between their leader and the Winter Elf?
As he was easily taller than her, she had to tug his beard in order to bring his head down to hers so she could give him a light kiss upon his lips.
Riding alongside Tagor, Ilyra was at the height of Njada society. Only his brother had ever held such an honor, and never a woman. What Tagor had not considered however, was one of the usual rites that happened on the return home of the caravans of trade. When Tagor had in the past brought home a slave, his brother was one of the first men, to share the woman around. This was a time honored tradition, and one that Tagor had not even considered, when he found himself falling for the Winter elf. Surely when they returned….Marmut would want his turn at Ilyra. The question was…would Tagor allow his mate to be sexed by another man, even if it was his brother?
The great train of horses and caravan were underway for the two day journey home. Tagor rode with his eyes looking straight ahead, only ever now and then stealing a glance at Ilyra as she rode. When he did watch her, seeing the movement of her hips upon the saddle, it made his groin heat significantly. No doubt when they camped for the night, Tagor was going to want to have his woman ride him….as hard as she could.
The day was pleasant and the ride was smooth and Ilyra had not been blind to the looks she was receiving from Tagor every once in a while. She could feel him undressing her with his eyes and her face was in a constant state of flushed under his heavy gaze. She had a feeling she would not be getting much sleep when they made camp for the night. If she had been privy to his thoughts as he looked at her, the saddle rubbing against her netheregions would most likely have been an issue.
What she was unaware of…was the practice he had with his brother upon their return of sharing their slaves…
What would happen when they reached home?