She was close to that ultimate pleasure, her cries becoming louder with each thrust of his hips. He pulled away from her after at that time and she nearly growled in reply. He reached for her shoulders, turning her to face him and she couldn’t help but look at his sex covered in her wetness and his own.
Before she could reach for him to continue their escapades, he lifted her and pulled her into his arms so they were face-to-face. He leaned in to kiss her (so she thought) but instead he nipped her bottom lip, tugging gently as he did so. She gasped at the feel of this.
His hands smoothed over her naked bottom and pulled her in until he was sheathed within her once more. Her breath left her in an explosive huff as she felt him throbbing against her womb. Her gaze was pinned in place by his and she could see the absolute love he had for her and their unborn son. He had been wrong to deny them their nightly pleasures and now they were paying the price for his negligence.
Neither one of them would be seen in the village for quite some time.
Grasping her hips, he slowly raised and lowered her upon him, nipping at her chin, neck and ears with his teeth. She shuddered in response, her eyes slipping closed as she allowed him to take what he desired and giving herself in return.
Her head fell back, giving him better access to her body as she hung on for dear life. This clearly wasn’t an act of sexual domination, as it had started out to be. This was love-making, a reaffirmation of a lifetime commitment between two people destined to be together until the end of time.
She whispered his name over and over again, saying in not so many words that she loved him.
Forgiveness. It was what Tagor needed and what his eyes implored when he turned her to face him. Yes, he had started off hard and heavy in an act to make reclamation of his mate and lover, but that all changed as his heart filled with love for her, and his instincts changed from the primal urges to needing to reaffirm their special bond.
Submissive, delicate…beautiful. Words that he could only think of as she gave herself over to him without complaint or angered fist. From the very dew that leaked between her folds, her body cried out for him as much as his hardness did for her.
Ilyra repeated his name in soft whispers as he nipped and marked her flesh, grazing with his teeth. It wasn’t part of play, no this was showing his dominance, but in a way that she knew she was the one and only for him. Tagor did not even look at other women, for they held no beauty or grace that his adored IIyra did. The winter fire that burns eternal in her soul shone through when she stood up for what she wanted, expected. This only made him love her all the more fiercely. IIyra was unique – a gem amongst a stream of pebbles.
Tagor’s lust would be all consuming. His gnarled hands wandering over her supple skin, kneading and searching, like tendrils that desire to learn every part of her body. Tagor’s face, right in front of her own, nose to nose, then stealing kisses before gasping for breath that he tried to hold tight within his lungs. She was so inexplicably tight. This only served to make him grow larger, thicker within her.
Their bodies rose and fell in a sweeping fashion as the two became reunited in spirit. Whole once more. A smile came to Tagor’s lips as he wanted to please her in so many ways. The joyful part was…they had all afternoon…and all night.
“IIyra…” Said with that deep baritone as his needs grew stronger. The friction between them heating his flesh. His dark pecs standing taut from the constant sweep of her own mounds across his. The feeling electric as it spread across his skin like wild fire. He just didn’t want this to end….
Several hours later…
Listening to the constant cries of passion from their leader’s tent for most of the day, many got bored and went back to their own works. Sharma remained a constant presence in front of their tent, sending the more curious away when they approached. She did not want the two of them disturbed for any reason.
She did send for food and drink, knowing that her mistress and mate would be famished once they concluded their activities and it was brought immediately.
There was a hard cry of delight (female) and a long groan of pleasure (male) from behind her before all went silent. She smiled.
“And all is right once more.” she murmured to herself.
Inside Tagor and Ilyra’s Tent
Ilyra clung to her mate, her entire body trembling with her emotions, he still throbbing within her at the completion of their lovemaking. She slowly drew back from him, her gray eyes wide. It had been an experience she never desired to share with any other for as long as there was breath in her body. They had connected on such an intimate level, she was almost sure she saw heaven.
“I love you, Tagor of Njada.” she whispered, breathless. She placed her hands on his cheeks. “You complete me in a way I have never experienced before. And I never want to be apart from you again. We are together…always. Don’t ever turn me away again. My heart will break.” A tear leaked from her eyes as she poured her heart out to him.
If you are going to do something, you do it right. That is what Tagor and IIyra spent many hours doing in the solitude of their tent. Hour upon hour of love making, that even outdid the patience of those who listened. Their audience dissipating as their constant cries and groans went into a marathon of hours.
When it was all said and done, Tagor rolled his back onto the furs, laying there both covered in sweat and physically exhausted. It was not often that a woman had ever kept Tagor going for hours on end but needless to say it was not only needed, it was very much enjoyed. IIyra had professed her love once more, instilling the fact that she did not want to be turned away ever again. Her heart though strong simply could not take such an event.
Tagor…then and there swore on his life that he would never turn his back on her, and promised to always keep her close physically. Their hearts one, they were now back on track as a couple, though completely exhausted from their tryst.
Tagor sung out for Sharma.
“SHARMA! Tagor….needs….Drink….eat. Mate of Tagor and I hungry.”
Safe to say they both had would need a good meal and some wine after all that.
Hearing her master call for food, Sharma was on her feet in an instant, the platters of food she had sent for earlier still warm upon their dishes. She collected them carefully and brought them inside.
It was hotter then a sauna inside the tent but she did not let that deter her from her duties. She caught a glimpse of her master and mistress upon their furs, their skin gleaming in the firelight with the manifestation of their all-day exertions and she was pleased by this. Ilyra had a contented smile upon her face as she lay within her mate’s arms, one of her legs thrown over his hip and an arm across his chest. The look on Tagor’s face was one of great pride, as if he had done something extraordinary and was celebrating his victory.
It was as it should be between them.
Sharma was not embarassed by the fact that both of them were naked. She could have cared less. She poured mead and dished up food for her charges, bringing them to their side and kneeling before them with her offerings.
“I kept it warm for you, Master, Mistress.” she stated. Ilyra sat up, not bothering to cover herself, as she was beyond such things as modesty, and took her food and drink with a smile of thanks. She waited for Tagor to attend his own meal before Ilyra began to eat. She was famished.
“When do we begin our journey, My Lord to visit the newborn princess?” Ilyra asked as she ate her meal.
Tagor was literally starving. All that effort does drain a man of his….energy. Seeing Sharma enter the tent so quickly and with meals, he could not take the smile from his face. Still glistening in the sweat of his exertions, he looked a right sight. The tent was like a sauna, and no doubt the tent flaps would need to be pulled back to let some of the cool air in.
“I kept it warm for you, Master, Mistress.”
Kneeling before them Sharma had the hot dishes along with poured mugs of mead. Both Tagor and his mate sat up, though Tagor was still taken in deep by his mate’s beauty. She smelt heavenly even after hours of sex. He nipped at her bare shoulder before taking up the mug of mead and chugging it down like a man….would. He let out a loud “ARRRHHHHHH!” since it quenched his thirst, then gestured for Sharma to refill it, as he took up a morsel of meat. Boy, when he ate and drank, he wasn’t one for table manners. No, this was done right where he had taken his woman. His smile was lopsided, almost still a bit heady from their love making. No doubt this would have amused Sharma, to see her Master so happy…and hungry.
When IIyra started to eat, Tagor pointed to the spare mug for Sharma – he wanted her to join them in this feast. “Sharma…eat with…Tagor and IIyra.” He knew she had been keeping a vigil outside the tent, and he now treated her more like a sister if anything. Another mug of mead and he was happily chugging away, only to then hear IIyra speak of the journey to the newborn Princess. Tagor hadn’t forgotten.
“When Sun rise….we go.”
As simple as that, they would leave at the dawning of the next day, but now…he just wanted to eat his fill.
Tagor didn’t seem to hear Sharma when she stated she had kept their food warm. He was staring at Ilyra, a besotted look on his face, one even Sharma had never seen from him before. Ilyra giggled when he leaned in to nip at her shoulder, pressing a kiss to his head in return before she turned to her meal. Sharma had to hide her face when Tagor downed his drink, smacking his lips and making delighted sounds when he finished or she would have started laughing.
She had never seen Tagor in such a state…and it seemed it was all due to the young woman at his side.
“Sharma…eat with…Tagor and IIyra.”
The request came from nowhere, causing Sharma to freeze in place. Even Ilyra was staring at Tagor in wonder. Sharma looked at Ilyra, wondering if the offer was genuine. Ilyra smiled and nodded the look on her face saying “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Sharma sat back and dished herself some food, pleased at her master’s offer.
Ilyra asked after their journey and Tagor said they would leave at sunrise the following morning before he returned to his meal. They ate in companionable silence, interspersed with Ilyra and Sharma talking about nothing of great importance but having a conversation between friends.
Ilyra ate her fill and fell to her back with a pleased sigh, lightly rubbing her expanding stomach. Sharma was surprised to see the slight swell of the baby growing. Seeing her look, Ilyra gave a slight smile.
“Elves breed faster then normal people do. Tis hard to explain.”
“How long?” Sharma wondered.
“Hmm…four cycles of the moon**, give or take.” she stated. Sharma’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. The women of the village would have been envious to hear that.
“Any ill feelings yet?”
Ilyra shook her head, “Not of yet. It’s rare for us when that happens. Our bodies adapt so quickly to the babe there really isn’t many health effects.” she explained. Sharma nodded. Yep, those women would be so jealous.
**four moon cycles = four months. Ilyra is the equivalent to being a month pregnant.
The Games of Slaves
The day of the Games of Slaves had come, with many of the City of Tsumal making their way from every street and thoroughfare to gain entry to the Colosseum of Champions. Regardless of title from the nobles, to the Slave masters, the common people adored these games as much as the Slave masters loved hosting them. Much money and gold would change hands this day, though many a slave would die as entertainment of the masses.
Arriving on a special horse drawn chariot, was none other than Marsala who was dressed in a large robe adorned in gold and silver, his wealth shown off ostentatiously. He had with him two loyal guards, which was not surprising, since he was considered a target by many a merc. But as he rode past the gathering crowds, he waved and smiled for he knew that they were all to pay for this event, and make even more money for him.
Nerboti would be further back, in a special covered carriage that was carried by six muscular slaves – all bronzed and glistening, wearing just small loin cloths and sandals. Behind the veils that shielded her from public gaze, she rode along with a bored expression. She was as always a fixture in her father’s box. One that he liked to show off, but yet to let her marry. He had his reasons of course. A man with a large purse and huge tracks of land to bargain for her. She would die old and barren if he didn’t find one that measured up to his expectations.
Passing through the massive gates the chariot and then the carriage both stopped close to each other, and the Slave Master and his daughter, were led inside by the Colluseum’s officials, whilst the crowds continued to file in. The numbers that were to watch was in the tens of thousands.
The moment that Tagor had eaten his fill, he asked Sharma to take away their dishes and then prepare the bedding for himself and his fair Ilyra. He had been listening to the two women converse about the pregnancy cycle before he gave Sharma her instructions, and though he didn’t appear to want to get into women’s talk, he was still greatly interested in how his woman would carry their son for far less time than that of Njada.
As soon as Sharma had completed her tasks and prepared the furs he acknowledged her with a nod of the head, well pleased with her efforts. She was good for IIyra and Tagor knew that women folk needed each other just like men needed the commerardery of other men be it in battle or in a social setting.
When alone, Tagor raised his wife to her feet, and blessed her by kissing the top of her head. She was so much smaller than he and he believed her to be like a delicate flower, even with child. Sure, she was feisty but he wanted her to feel his love.
Taking her to the furs, he laid her down so he could lay beside her – spooning into a comfortable position. Every so often he would kiss her neck, or let his coarse hands smooth over her swollen belly. There was no doubt that he loved her a great deal and the comfort from his whole body with hers may help ease her off into sleep.
~The Next Morning~
There was much excitement as a large contingent of the Njada would be making the trek to celebrate the birth of the Princess in the far off land within Noriand. Tagor was up early, inspecting the horses that he would have to ride on the long journey, and of course making sure that the Njada would be in good hands while their leaders were gone. He spoke with his Grandfather early and told him of how much his mate was pleasing him. Ripe with the future leader of the Njada people.
Coming back to the tent, Tagor opened the flap and stared down at his sleeping mate. He gave her the chance to get as much rest as she needed, so that she was fresh and energized for the ride.
“Awaken my heart, Queen of Njada.”
His voice had a deep rich tone, and he already had a sheen across his skin from working so early in the morning. If Sharma came by he would ask her to fetch IIyra some breakfast to help her get ready faster. Another two girls would pack for IIyra so that the horses were ready to start the trek.
Standing a few tents away was Rangor, who had a scowl on his face. He had heard the wild love making of Tagor and his mate and hated every second of it. How he wished he had gotten his chance sooner, but Sharma helped the couple find each other again. Tagor had been avoiding Rangor as well, and so Rangor had to plot in the shadows, having already raped Tagor’s mother and got her to be submissive to his wishes.
Rangor was not going on this trek, for he was not deemed fit as a warrior to protect the leaders. With eyes narrowing into slits, his mind ticked over what he was going to do while Tagor and Ilyra were away.
Needless to say…..they would be in for a shock when they returned.
Meal finished, and Ilyra comfortably sleepy, Tagor announced it was time for sleep. They were due to ride early in the morning and they needed to be well rested for the journey ahead. Once their furs were prepared and Sharma was gone, Tagor pulled her to her feet, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She agreed, yawning delicately behind her hand. Their all-day activities combined with their meal had made her drowsy. She made no complaints when he spooned up behind her, running rough fingers over the swell of her stomach. Smiling, she rested her hands over his, the last thought in her mind before sleep stole her away was that of their unborn son. He would have his father’s eyes.
~The Next Morning~
Ilyra was still asleep when Tagor woke to start the day. The horses were being prepared and their tents were being packed. The journey would be long, but worth it.
Ilya slowly came awake as Tagor whispered above her.
“Awaken my heart, Queen of Njada.”
She mumbled something, rolling onto her back beneath the furs. Her eyes opened to see him standing above her and she smiled.
“Good morrow, my mate.” she greeted him in her musical voice. Sharma stepped into their tent with her breakfast. Ilyra sat up, accepting the dish she was handed, getting her fill before Sharma helped her dress for the journey.
Once she was dressed and ready, she followed from their tent, ready to leave. Her horse was waiting for her, ready to go. With her mate’s help, she was placed in the saddle and handed the reigns. She was ready.
With the horses lined up in two long rows that were mounted by both warriors and elders of the Njada, the procession would start off at the blasting of the horn. Under strict instructions, Sharma was to ride as a free woman close to that of IIyra. Many were shocked by this decision made by the Leader Tagor, but he did so in the knowledge that if IIyra had complications along the way that she had a midwife at hand. Tents were packed into carts and towed along behind pack horses, while prize horses for trade and gifts were also part of the long procession.
Tagor rode proudly in front with his second, a striking man named Vagar. He was yet to take a woman, but often had eyes for Sharma. Had she noticed it before? One would wonder as she was often so caught up in her duties.
And so they moved out, leaving behind Tagor’s grandfather in charge of the Njada that remained behind. He stood at the edge of the camp waving them off as he held the ceremonial staff. In behind him, his daughter and Tagor’s mother who was sporting a very nasty looking bruise to her face. Slowly she tried to cover it up, as she slunk back from her father. As she did so, she felt a blade stick its pointed edge into her back. Rangor whispering in her ear.
“You would be foolish to leave now. Stay with your father till I give the word.” Rangor jabbed Thiras with the blade slightly so it made her understand that Rangor had no qualms in sticking it in further should she disobey. Raising her head she swallowed sharply and held her place as Rangor withdrew the blade and sheathed it back in its keep.
“He is my father.” Thiras hissed under her breath, to which Rangor whispered back. “He has to die sometime. What is more fitting is that…you do the honours of sending him to the Gods.”
Thiras gritted her teeth and trembled with rage and fear as Rangor smirked in behind her. Everything was going to plan.