The tent flap spread open and a man stepped inside. From what she could see of him, his build was slightly smaller then Tagor’s. He was dark-complected and his hair was loose upon his head. His body was riddled with scars of battle, a testament to his status as a warrior of the Njada people.
He stopped a few feet from her and knelt down upon a knee before her, head bowed in respect.
“My name is Rangor, Ilyra of Njada.” His voice was very deep, but there was a hardness to it, unlike Tagor’s. “I come to pay honor to you and your unborn son.” He finished his introduction and waited.
“Tis a pleasure to meet one of Njada’s finest warriors, Rangor of Murtga. Please rise.” Ilyra smiled, giving nothing away. Her senses were screaming at her not to trust this man. She had learned over the years to trust those senses as it alerted her to when her masters were displeased. “What may the mate of Tagor and her servant do for you this day?”
Rangor rose up to standing as he was given the permission to do so. The mate of Tagor smiled warmly, but when Ragnor’s eyes flickered to that of Sharma, he got the feeling that the slave was not showing due respect to the warrior. He would deal with her later, but for now he concentrated on his target – IIyra. Keeping his arms to his side, hands open to show he was not holding anything that can be deemed a threat, he paid heed to her question in regards to how she might be able to do for him that day.
The warrior spoke in a monotone and addressed her with respect.
“One of my mare’s gave birth to a fine foal, that I wish for you to see. It would honor me to present this foal to you and your unborn son, to be trained to be the future ride of your child.”
He was offering a gift, which was not totally unheard of when it came to their horses. When good breeding takes place and a foal of worth is born from good lineage, they are reserved for the higher members of the Njada. Nothing was more beautiful than to see a young foal frolic with it’s mother.
“Would IIyra of Njada care to see this creature?” He asked, hoping she would say yes.
If there was one thing Ilyra was fond of, it was horses. And Njada horses were simply beautiful creatures, her own included.
“This is acceptable to me, Rangor. I would be honored to see your foal. I’m sure it would make a fine horse for my child. Thank you for your offer.” Ilyra nodded, getting to her feet. Sharma joined her, determined not to let the two of them be alone at any time. She had not been able to protect her mistress and friend once before. She was not going to let it happen again and the way Rangor was looking at her set her teeth on edge.
Rangor stepped back to allow IIyra and Sharma to leave the tent first, before he pivoted on his right foot to follow them. On reaching the outside of the tent, he gestured toward the chorale, which was to the right of the settlement. In a special paddock that had been fenced off by Rangor for his own horses and breeders, you could see that he was speaking the truth. A beautiful mare was feeding on the lush grasses, while a young foal, who was barely a day old, was jumping and skittering around it’s mother playfully, every so often stopping for a feed, then off again till settling in a place in the grass.
It truly was an adorable foal, that would melt the heart of any horse lover. The mare was still of a size from the birth, and the father was one of the leading breed stallions. Rangor leaned on the fence rung and waited to hear IIyra’s reaction to the foal and it’s mother.
“My gift.” Rangor said simply.
“He is a beautiful animal, Rangor. You should be proud.” Ilyra nodded, gracing the warrior with a small smile. “Does he have a name? For a horse of Njada should carry a strong name.”
“Yes, it should.” Sharma stated from her place at Ilyra’s side.
The foal was barely a day old, and this is where Rangor became devious. He simply turned his head to her, when IIyra asked if the foal had a name, and that if it were to have one, that it should be a strong name. Rangor’s expression softened, and then uttered.
“I thought it would be nice for you to name it, since it is to carry your Son.”
Now, what would she say to that?
“You have seen the horse’s playfulness, it’s will for life. Perhaps you can think of something…strong.”
Rangor was appealing to her sense of goodness and fun. This was more or less letting her have say over the horse from this moment on. Rangor would see to it, that the foal was fed and trained appropriately till such time her son could ride.
“Sargtlin” she stated. She turned her gray eyes on Rangor. “In the language of my people, it means ‘Little Warrior’. He looks like he’ll make a fine war horse.” Ilyra nodded, looking back at the foal, who was now nursing at his mother’s teat.
“Then that it is what the foal shall be. Sargtlin.” Rangor said firmly, as he went back to watching the foal, along with IIyra. But as they were watching, little did they realize that Tagor was coming up behind them. Seeing her out with another warrior, even with the slave Sharma in attendance, did nothing to settle Tagor’s jealousy.
“Rangor…what is this?”
Clearly, Tagor had not been told of the gift of the foal, and his dark eyes narrowed as he folded his arms. Perfect~ Rangor thought as he turned and made a gesture with his arm to his chest to show respect.
“My mare foaled and I have given it to your mate. A gift to honor your son.” Rangor said, knowing Sharma and IIyra would be listening. Tagor didn’t like the idea of gifts being given without word to him, or even being asked. For Tagor was going to do the same thing, only his mare had not yet foaled.
Rangor went on to say. “Mate of Tagor has even chosen the name. Sargtlin. It means in her language, “Little Warrior”.” Oh Rangor was a wiley bastard. Once the name was given, there could be no giving it back. The seeds planted, Rangor dismissed himself, walking off with a dark chuckle knowing that this was not going to go down well….at all.
Tagor looked to IIyra and said. “You named it? Why?”
Yep, he was upset.
Rangor agreed to the name of the foal and they stood to watch him for a moment more before there was another interruption to Ilyra’s day – a welcome one, depending on how you looked at it.
“Rangor…what is this?” Tagor’s voice spoke behind them. Ilyra turned, a smile on her face, that was until she saw the expression on his. He did not look happy.
“My mare foaled and I have given it to your mate. A gift to honor your son. Mate of Tagor has even chosen the name. Sargtlin. It means in her language, “Little Warrior”.” Rangor explained. Rangor removed himself after a few moments of silence, yet Tagor only had eyes for Ilyra.
She was a bit uncomfortable under his regard and wondered why that was. His arms were crossed and he looked very imposing and unapproachable.
“You named it? Why? he asked. She frowned slightly.
“I was asked to. He presented the foal as a gift for our son. Was I to say no to such a gift? That would have been rude.” she stated. Seeing they were beginning to have an audience, Ilyra turned away from him and walked back to their tent. If he wanted to have an argument with her about a horse, they would do so privately.
Tagor and Ilyra’s Tent
Sharma followed along with her mistress into the tent where Ilyra waited for Tagor to appear. She was angry and agitated.
“Sharma, I wish to speak to my mate alone.”
“I will await you outside, My Lady.” Sharma bowed, moving to stand outside the tent so the two could speak alone.
Ilyra looked at Tagor, a frown marring her delicate features. It looked so out of place on her, it was quite striking.
But now that she had her freedom, she was going to exercise her right to speak her mind. He had treated her shabbily in the last week and she was going to find out why. His reasonings for the horse be damned.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/14/2014 10:59PM by LadyBelz.
Tagor was not happy, at all. For one, he never trusted Rangor’s motives especially when it came to gifting a foal that was worth far more in trade than to be given to IIyra’s son. Marching into the tent after IIyra, Sharma was asked to leave so that IIyra could speak to him privately. Oh this was just making things worse. That was HIS job to order the slaves. What had gotten into IIyra? Was this all steemed from his lack of attention? Couldn’t she see he was trying to protect her from himself and his urges?
Now seeing her in this annoyed state, she looked all the more ravishing. Damn her to bits. He folded his arms indignantly, like he was waiting for her to apologize…but, you could probably guess that she had no intention of doing that.
Big bad words from the Njada leader.
“You’re angry? If anything, I am the one who should be angry with you!” She paced away from him. “You have denied me your company and touch for almost fourteen eves. Have I displeased you in some way? If so, I wish you would tell me for I feel like you no longer want me as your mate. If that is your wish, then replace the bindings upon me and mark me as your slave once more. But make no mistake – I will no longer allow you to deny me.”
Not in all the time that they had been together, had IIyra EVER spoken to Tagor like this. It was simply unheard of, and in fact, it scared him. He stood there shell shocked, as she seemed to think that he didn’t want her. That couldn’t be further from the truth. He wanted her so bad it pained him both physically and emotionally, but he feared he would hurt the unborn child. Being…well, big as he was.
The part that really drove the knife in and twisted was about replacing her slave bindings, and mark her as a slave. There was no way in merry hell he would ever do that to her. Why couldn’t she understand his actions, his reasons? Why were they even fighting to begin with? Everything had been so perfect, right up to the point where he…..oooh. The penny started to drop with the large Njada male and he hated to admit that maybe he was wrong. Very wrong. His jealousy came out from his desire of her, and seeing her standing happily with Rangor only awoke the green giant within him.
“IIyra…mate…ugh.” He was having trouble expressing himself, not that he was ever really articulate. He raked his hand back over his head, trying to explain himself…about why he hadn’t touched her….then…he showed her.
He unceremoniously dropped his pants, revealing a massive erection…enough to make a woman faint.
“Tagor…too big…for…IIyra and son…” He stammered, a pink flush coming to his cheeks. He thought he would hurt his unborn child. The poor man.
His mouth opened and closed several times and garbled words tried to find purchase in the air between them, but between his anger and frustration he couldn’t seem to do so. He raked a hand back over his head before making a decision that would leave her stunned.
He dropped his pants, revealing a massive erection and a bewildered look upon his face.
“Tagor…too big…for…IIyra and son…” He stammered, waving a hand at himself.
The look on his face was so comical, Ilyra had to turn away, slapping a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling out loud.
Once she got herself under control, she turned to face him.
“Husband…mate…do you not recall how I became ripe with your child? I do not think your size was an issue at the time.” she tried to remind him. “And not once did I complain about your…considerable…attributes.” She let her gaze roam downward without any shame.
“Am I not mate of proud Njada Warrior? Am I not mate of fierce Njada Chieftan? Am I not strong Njada woman?” she demanded, striking her chest with a fist as she gave him a hard stare. “Am I your slave or am I your mate? You need to choose, for no longer shall I be denied your touch. Or do you wish others to taste what you so covet?”
She spoke true, having witnessed many men of the Njada slaking their lusts upon other women of the tribe, whether they were mated or not. She would never do such a thing to Tagor, for she loved him with her whole heart and soul, but neither would she allow him to shove her to the side, thinking he needed to protect her from himself.
“It pains my heart you would place so little faith in me…in us…” she frowned, angry all over again. “Tis like you are shamed of me, our child and our bond.”
She was speaking from her heart, hoping to get her point across. Tagor was a proud man…but he had gotten himself a proud and fierce woman for his mate. She had seen and done things in her life that would scare the most fierce of warriors and had come out stronger for it.
A massive…attribute…was nothing to her. And she was sure it would not harm the babe she carried.
She had seen similar actions taking place when her mother was large and swollen with her sister. If her cries of passionate joy were to be believed, her father lavished her mother with all the love she could stand…and then some.
Have you ever really seen a woman fly off the handle, and act…well, like they were the dominant one? Beating her chest, questioning her mate’s motives, his actions? Putting him on trial for failure to treat her as the woman and mate that she was. She was not wanting to be wrapped in furs and stuck in a corner till she gave birth. She was a proud Njada who wanted to experience everything, just as she had done from the moment she had been taken from the Slave markets. If you think that this parade of her fury would dampen Tagor’s libido…well, if anything it made him all the more rigid. In fact, he was practically twitching, even showing drops of pre. IIyra’s voice had carried so far, that practically half the village was listening…especially Rangor and Sharma. This was like a soap opera, but the question was, would Tagor be sent packing? Was he going to man up and be the proud Njada warrior that took her to the furs and rutted her senseless?
“Tis like you are shamed of me, our child and our bond.”
Oh..when this was said, something inside Tagor snapped…literally. He thundered over and unceremoniously placed (yes, placed not threw) her on the furs on all fours. He ripped off his leather vest and then knelt down behind her, his shaft practically ready to explode.
And with that, he gripped her hips without warning and forced the head of his engorged cock deep inside her, whether she was ready for it or not. This was the start of some…serious…and I mean, serious hard fucking, that would have her see stars..the moon…possibly Uranus.
He grabbed her hips and without warning, he forced his thick shaft into her. She gasped out loud at the tight burn before her body succumbed to his wishes, her womanly juices aiding in his endeavours. But he gave her no time to catch her breath, beginning a hard series of thrust that caused her eyes to close and a loud cry of passion to ease from her mouth.
Outside the tent, where she was standing guard, Sharma’s eyes sparkled in amusement and she silently cheered Ilyra on for making her mate see sense in denying them both their couples pleasures. She saw a few of the other Njada women covering their mouths and whispering to each other, small smiles on their faces. It wasn’t often something could break through their leader’s hard-won control and it looked like an outsider, a Winter Elf, one he’d taken as his mate had done just that.
Even a few of the men folk were cheering on their leader as he took his mate. They could hear his loud grunts of pleasure and her cries of delight from where they stood. There was no such thing as discretion in their village. Tagor’s actions solidified his position as their Chieftan, one they were proud to follow.
Rangor would most likely have a very difficult time with whatever he was planning at this rate.
Back inside the tent, Ilyra was giving as good as she was getting, pushing back against Tagor as he thrust forward, her fingers gripped tightly into the furs beneath her hands. Her slickness slipped down her thighs as he took her from behind and she moaned his name, begging for more, begging him to mark her and claim her and do whatever he liked to her in a very loud voice.
She would deny him nothing.
What Tagor failed to realize was that his lovemaking coupled with the cries of his mate; IIyra was now so loud that it was amplified beyond the interior of the tent. Slaves, Warriors…hell even the elderly came out and stood listening to the chorus cries of passion that were coming from the Njada leader’s tent. Why…it was enough to make Chuck Norris even give the thumbs up.
The week of denial of sexual favour had left Tagor so incredibly horny that the moment he entered IIyra, he roared with his insatiable need. If only he could see the face that she was making, it was enough to either make him laugh or get rather angry. IIyra was bucking back as hard as he was giving it to her, which surprised him. She must have felt the same as her, and now he realized he had been going about protecting her all wrong. Pregnant winter elves WANT sex, not to be shelved for fear of being broken by their Lover’s shaft. One thing was safe to say – their baby was getting one hell of a rocking session.
Tagor pulled back for a moment, and then reached for her shoulders, to bring her up and then turn to face him. His mammoth length was still engorged and dripping with her sex as well as his own pre. Tagor’s chest was rising and falling fast and she would be able to see the determination on his face. He had overcome his fear of hurting her, but wanted to see her face as he made love to her. She had cried that she wanted to be marked again as his love…his only.
Tagor lifted her and brought her into an embrace, so that their faces were inches apart. He lent in to kiss, but nipped at her bottom lip, tugging it. Pulling it back. His hands reached around to pick her up by her rounded globes and place her upon his waiting member, so they were once again joined – coupled. She should be able to see by the look in his eyes, the absolute love he had for her and their child. He was ready to admit he was wrong, by showing her he could take her now, and bring her to the fulfillment she craved. Slowly he raised and lowered her upon his glistening shaft, while nipping at her chin, her neck and then to her ear.