05-15-2018, 05:39 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-29-2018, 06:26 PM by kahzie.)
Arthas' words have lingered in my mind since his departure. He'd meant them as a promise, I know, but there was a heavy weight to them as well. With his promise, I can see all too clearly how my life will play out. I will return to Loess, to stand at his side, ready to avert my gaze whenever asked. It is the life my mother had lived; I have heard the story many times. Such is the life of royal women, serving at the wishes of their mates and masters.
That is what I'm in Sylva for, after all. I was young when Arthas sent me here, but I am not naive. I was a gift, a present, a concubine. He will come back for me in the fall, he says; he will come back just in time to ensure that Modicum Mortem does not sire a child on me. What happens in the meantime is of no concern, it seems, just as the women he chooses to dally with in my absence are supposed to be to no concern of me.
I lash out at a snowbank at the thought, kicking out with my heels. The motion makes me feel only minutely better, so I add a cow-kick at an elm for good measure. It is late in the evening and I have spent the day running, so there is little force behind my blows. Still, it is better than thinking.
As I tuck my legs back beneath me, I hear a sound behind me. I spin quickly, my blue wings flaring out in an instinctive effort to look larger than I am. My blue-grey eyes peer through the haze of evening darkness, and I recognize the tobiano stallion from our brief meeting with Jesper.
"Oh," I say, a little embarrassed at how easily I had startled. "Hey. Kwartz, right?"
Modicum had left no room for misinterpretation. And truthfully, I hadn't been surprised at the required action. This was a test, after all. I spent the afternoon wandering my old home, cautiously seeking out my old haunts. The golden woods seem darker now, though that could reasonably be attributed to the season.
Horefrost etches the tree trunks and crackles beneath my hooves, and my breaths come in misty clouds as I walk. Taking a moment to be grateful for the wings covering my sides, for the insulation they provide. They make the winter air a bit more bearable as I mull over the task set to me.
The sun is sinking past the horizon, letting the slivered moon take over with its weak echo of light. A little ways away comes the sound of hooves on wood, then the sound of snow crystals scattering forcefully. A bit vigorous for most of Sylva's current residents. I made the conscious decision to move quietly. Luck seems to be on my side tonight, as my quarry appears through the trees, facing away.
We'd met only briefly, in the company of Jesper, and it takes a moment for me to recall her name. But then it is there, along with her history. Lepis. A female not any older than I, yet she used to rule Loess while my mother ruled here, and left the throne around the same time. In the darkness she is diluted into shades of black and white, a whirl of violence against the elements around her. A pretty tableau. I watch her for a moment, quietly pleased at not having been noticed yet. Just for a moment longer, and then the spell must end.
I snort just loud enough to be heard. It's rather amazing that she doesn't break a hock spinning around like she does, wide eyes now fixed on me. Good. My face softens at her apparent disconcertion, a slight smile relaxing the muscles of my mouth from their sharp lines. After spending time with my father in Tephra, I have to wonder how it took me so long to realize our shared blood. I could be a paler copy of the man, charm and good looks includedE. Stepping closer, I turn my head to look at her with my good right eye, the dead white one staring out blankly. "Well remembered... Lepis, yes?" I inquired politely. My head dipped in an elegant bow, before offering my nose to her in greeting. "Something's got you bothered." I note mildly, nodding towards the churned up snow where she had been stomping. Perhaps she felt guilt over abandoning her kingdom to an unknown stallion...
@[Lepis]
Through the cloud that my breath leaves in the air, I see the Kwartz offers a remarkably polite greeting, something that I’d long ago abandoned expecting of any resident of these autumnal woods. Most of them seem content to cackle and dart off in the shadows, a habit that I assume they must feel is intimidating. In truth, it has left me with the opinion that I share this kingdom with a crowd of anti-social shadows and feelings of rather intense loneliness.
Loess had been a quiet kingdom during my childhood, but there had always been someone to talk to. Mother and Uncle Castile, and then for those few happy weeks - Arthas.
The thought of him stirs something sour in my belly, though I am also reminded of how concerned he had been that I ‘fulfill my duties’. I’ve not done so; Modicum Mortem seems far too wrapped up in his other women much the way that I assume Arthas has been.
The path of my life has been set already, but as I eye the handsome tobiano in front of me, it occurs to me that perhaps I might exercise my freedom in other ways. Surely sex must be entertaining; why would it happen otherwise? Why not pass my time in Sylva in ways that I choose, rather than those were chosen for me?
I summon the same sensation I had used to make the red-nosed king more agreeable to my plans, though this time I am far more liberal in the dosage. Lust is suddenly thick in the air, the abruptness sending a shiver down my navy spine.
”Oh, I was just bored,” I lie, taking a step forward. Manufactured, the emotion feels no different than when it naturally occurs, and I find myself tracing the smooth slope of Kwartz’s pied neck and the thick plumage of his multi-colored neck with open admiration. He is as handsome as Arthas, and there is the satisfactory bonus that were Kwartz to find others ”note worthy” it would not burn me in the same way.
”Have you lived here long?” I ask as I meet his proffered muzzle with my own, using the opportunity to summon another wave of lust. It does not occur to me that he might not want this, because what stallion does not? I have looked at my reflection often enough to know that I am more than averagely pretty. I take another step forward to pluck a loose lavender feather from his wing, glancing over my shoulder to meet his gaze again when I ask: ”What is there to do for fun around here?”
05-18-2018, 11:47 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-18-2018, 11:48 AM by Kwartz.)
I cannot place the expression she wears. It is intense, and a bit volatile. Clearly, she is considering something, some course of action. For a brief moment I feel a twinge of worry. For all the we have met before, I know next to nothing about the girl. Except that she is here willingly. Perhaps I should have analyzed that fact further. After all, this new Sylva has attracted a rather odd breed of creatures, and... like morning dew, my worries evaporate.
What remains is a sensation foreign to me. There is a stirring in my gut, a desire beyond any I had experienced thus far. I want her. Lepis, the slim female before me, she is all I want. The scent of her, the taste. I want to drown myself in her essence, and my body is reacting accordingly. The sensation intensifies as she steps closer, touching the overly sensitive skin of my neck as she speaks. Just bored, eh? She certainly seems to have gotten over that in a hurry.
This desire has never struck me before, and I never imagined it would. At least not like this. Not with this single minded urge to fulfill the most basic of pleasures as I want to do now. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight that had shown me her in this new perspective. I almost miss the question, so caught up am I in the feeling of her skin grazing mine. "I... uh, I've lived in Sylva all my life... I was born here." And then she is no longer before me, but beside, deftly removing a feather from the sail of my wing. The want becomes a need. I need to have her, before I implode. To find release in her body.
A sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl emerges from my chest at her next question. It's bizarre, that sound. But she seems to have the same thing on her mind, and I find myself more than willing to oblige her thinly veiled invitation. "I could think of a few things..." the murmur of my voice rumbles from low in my chest. This is something I want desperately, and yet there is a quiet voice trying to be heard, begging me to reconsider. But I want this, don't I? And she clearly does. With a almost angry snort, take action. She has paraded herself before me with clear intention. And I think I may well die if I don't find some kind of release soon. I find myself reaching towards her. My lips caress the plane of her neck before opening to grip the base of her mane with the blades of my teeth. I am rough in my urgency, pulling harder than I ought to, but I am past caring. I want her, I need her. I will have her. She feels so fragile beside me, and I hesitate a moment, wondering if she'll bear my weight. My breath comes in short gasps now, as I attempt to mount her whilst maintaining my grip on her mane.
@[Lepis] let me know if this needs any editing
I know when the lust finds him; I recognize the sudden alertness in his bearing. I have seen it before, in Arthas, in Modicum Mortem, in a few of the shadowy Sylvans that linger for a look at my comely figure. I feel it as well, the side effect of such a heavy-handed use of my ability, and that is entirely novel. As a girl, I'd dreamt of becoming a wife, but the actual duties of such a position had never featured heavily in my daydreams. With Arthas, strong Arthas, I'd imagine him holding me tightly and a pleasant warmth would spread through me.
This is more than a warmth though, it is better. This is like a wildfire, and I suddenly find that I do not care at all about how long he has lived in Sylva. He is answering questions that I no longer care about knowing, for my world seems to have narrowed down to the places where he touches me. The fire is hotter there, burning so brightly I no longer feel the bite of the cold wind as he presses my lips to his neck. I glance back at him, at my Arthas, at my...no. Not Arthas.
This should be Arthas. Not Kwartz. What was I doing? What had I been thinking? The lust falls away, washed from my system by the sudden shock of realization. My emotions shift as quickly as the wind around us, but in my panic I cannot seem to settle on one to send to Kwartz. Instinct kicks in, and I freeze, caught between fight and flight.
Flight, my instincts decide.
My navy wings flare out as I lean back to shoot into the sky, only to crash against the bars of Kwartz's legs as they wrap around my ribcage. I try again, shifting back to try for a better angle, only to find that my rump presses firmly against his belly.
"No." I say, quietly at first and then louder as I feel the panic begin to rise in my throat. "No, Kwartz, no, I didn't. I didn't mean. No." I try a third time, forward now, but I have always been weak when it comes to pain, and he holds me tightly at the neck. "No. Please."
It's like waking up from a bizarre dream, finding myself perched between her legs, the amorous feelings draining away as quickly as they'd arrived. For a moment I am dazed with the sudden shift. Her words penetrate the fog of my thoughts, and I realize with a shock that she's pleading with me. I almost oblige; then it dawns on me what's just happened. I'm being manipulated. Again. Suddenly the day goes icy cold, or perhaps its just me. I'm not attracted to Lepis. Not like this. But by some damn power, she had made it as though I was. My cold shock melts into a hot and sickened anger. Morty wants me to do something violent? Fine. Ill show him fucking violent.
I can feel her quake beneath me, still pleading for mercy. She picked the wrong day to fuck with my mind. Releasing the hank of her mane slowly, I lean forward until my lips are brushing the curve of her twisting ears. In parody of a lover's caress, I whisper. "Oh Lepis... you were careless. You really should have thought about where you are."
Kissing the point behind her poll, my forelegs clench around her barrel with a constrictor's grip. She's trying to escape, shifting this way and that, but I'm stronger than her. It's time this foolish girl was taught a lesson. Forcing her legs wider to accommodate me, I rock against her unwilling body seeking entrance. Maintaining my husky whisper I growl in her ears once more. "Remember, you wanted this. Wanted it enough to manipulate me to get it. Now I'm going to give it to you, you careless little whore." My teeth sank into the delicate skin behind her ears, biting into muscle of her neck. The taste of blood blooms in my mouth as the skin breaks beneath the pressure.
As I bite, my body rolls into hers, forcing past tight muscles until I am inside her. Ignoring everything except the her and the noises she makes, I push in again and again until warm fluid creates an easier passage. From there it is not long until my body has built enough pressure to bring about my climax. A moment of exhilaration spiking my already coursing adrenalin, and I ram myself deeply inside a final time. I hold that position for a long moment, wanting her to remember this day, and the actions which brought her to it. I want her to remember the feel of me for the rest of her life.
Releasing her neck from the uncomfortable angle I've held it at, I slide from her back. It is immediately clear that I had done more damage than I realized, with streaks of blood tinting the sweat on her thighs and my belly. I have left my mark, alright. It is evident in the marks on her skin, in the thick white liquid trickling down her thighs. In the violent power I feel over the fragile creature before me. Blandly, I notice that I am not feeling guilty over my actions. If anything, I am feeling satisfaction. As though my eyes have been opened for the first time, I realize. This is justice, and it is mine.
@[Lepis]
A little bit of powerplaying, I can remove it if you want
05-24-2018, 09:11 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-24-2018, 09:12 PM by Lepis.)
Despite my desperate struggling, Kwartz holds me too tightly for an escape. As he breathes words into my ears in a mockery of romance, the useless fluttering of my wings eventually stills. The fear that floods my system feels like ice, and my legs seem frozen to the ground. I shudder as he shifts behind me, forcing my still-frozen legs farther apart.
I wanted this, he reminds me, I asked for it. And I had, I know deep down, this is my fault.
This is my fault.
When he bites down on the tender skin behind my ears, I hold back all but a whimper, and when he forces himself against me I pull my tail aside. Give him what he wants, I can hear my Mother's voice in my head, reminding me of my place. I'd never imagined this is what she meant, but surely it was. I caused this; this is my fault. I have to deal with the consequences.
Kwartz slams against me, again and again and again until my body accepts what my mind already has. There is still no pleasure in it for me, but from the sounds of the stallion atop me, he certainly enjoys it. I would have hung my head, dejected as he labors over me, but he holds my neck too tightly and I am trapped until he at last releases me.
I do not turn around even as he slides off me; my hooves still feel as though they are encased in lead. I can feel the dampness of the back of my thighs, and even through the pain I know that it is more than just blood. A patch of bluebells shifts in the wind at my feet, a reminder that I should be grateful for the season. This is what Arthas wanted from me, after all, though he had meant for me to bear the weight of a different stallion.
The act itself was worse than my Mother had implied ('smile and bear it'; 'your husband might not care for your pleasure, his is the most important'; 'never say no'.) I'd broken that last one, but Kwartz is not my husband. No need to 'be sweet, demure, and respectful always' then, another of Mother's often-repeated lessons.
"You need practice." I say, taking my gaze from the little blue flowers and looking over my shoulder at the stallion with my best attempt at an expression of disappointment. It was my fault, and it does hurt, but mockery feels safer than tears.
"You're never going to make a woman happy with a performance like that." At that I turn around, wincing at the pain when I twist my neck and readjust my sore hind legs. "I can't vouch for how happy His Majesty will be about this though," I add, tilting my head as though I am unconcerned. "I think King Arthas had intended me as an unsullied gift from Loess, but who knows. Maybe he'll appreciate you breaking me in."
@[Kwartz]
no worries about the powerplaying; had to happen
it seems like her response to trauma is sarcasm? who knows! :P
There's anguish in her eyes, though she's doing her best to disguise it. Listening to her attempts at sarcasm, I can't help but smirk. Letting her finish her rambling, I step close enough to touch her sweat dampened skin. Blood stains her milky skin in half a dozen places. The rounded lacerations where my teeth split the satin of her neck, the scraping marks and bruises my hooves carved over her ribs. And of course, the smears of crimson that had tricked from her abraded sex.
"I need practice, eh? Very well. I somehow don't think Modicum will begrudge me your keeping." I held her gaze a moment before shrugging carelessly. "If King Arthas wanted you safe, he should have kept you close." Pressing against her side, my mouth touched the wound behind her ears gently. My tongue drew long, slow tracks against the injury, removing the blood stains carefully.
Moving down the length of her body, I repeated the process with each mark. At last I reached the worst of it, the place where I had damaged her with intention. The salty-metallic taste of blood, semen and sweat mixed in my mouth as I lavaged the roughed up flesh with due delicacy. I'm taking my time, not leaving a spot on her creamy skin. "This doesn't have hurt, you know..." I commented before plunging my tongue within the swollen canal. More blood, more semen. That wouldn't do. With the same slow care, I cleansed her channel thoroughly, sucking occasionally to tease pleasure. "We have several months until the end of your stay. I'm sure we'll find plenty of time to practice my skills, darling Lepis." I assured her when I emerged. Sex. I found myself not looking forward to that part, but it seemed like it would be the most effective method of bringing this little bitch to heel.
@[Lepis]
As he reaches out for me I lean away, but it is not enough to stop him. He reaches for my head, but despite the bravado of moments ago I make no effort to stop him. It takes more strength than I'd expected, but I do not cower away as I feel his warm breath near my bleeding poll. Ready for the sting of teeth, I am at first bewildered by his gentle touch. It does sting, but not with fresh pain. His mention of Arthas is met with a steely glare, though I still dared not react with Kwartz so near.
His attentions are careful and delicate, but as I turn a cautious head back to watch him I cannot help but anticipate the next attack. My nerves are already frayed, yet now they quiver beneath my skin. Alert. Wary. I cannot admit to myself that it is out of fear.
Despite my tone earlier, he had not lashed out. His touch remains soft and soothing, and with the amount of damage he has done, there is much soothing to be done. Though I know the decision is not wise, I force the emotion of calmness down the myriad of synapses in my mind. Relax, I tell myself, pressing the fear from my mind.
I am good at my tricks; I've been practicing since childhood after all. It takes only a moment, and the cool sensation trickles from the central knots of my head and heart down to the very ends of my feet. I sigh, my eyes half-closed in relief that is made all the sweeter by how short I know it must be.
The rumble of his voice rouses me somewhat, but there is nothing threatening in his tone and I begin to drift away again. Kwartz's breath is warm, and the little hairs along his lips tickle at the delicate skin along my thigh. I smother a giggle, flicking my tail to discourage him.
Oh.
Oh.
The relaxation drains away instantly, and I feel each of my weary nerves stand on end. My hooves feel frozen again, each locked to the forest floor. I should move away, I think, but I rock back instead. My traitorous hooves are willing to move if it is toward him, I find. The strength it takes to me to swallow a moan is also enough to lift a hindleg in a kick toward his yellow and purple chest. There's not enough space between us for it to gain momentum, but it does succeed in getting me away from his too soothing tongue for just long enough to think again.
"Don't do that again." I tell him. I mean any of it, all of it, the abuse and the aftercare. I must mean it. I have sworn that I am not like my mother, not in this way. I will not let a man hurt me and then forgive him the instant he plies me with tender words (or in my case, caresses). As if to assure myself of this, I stamp a blue-striped leg firmly on the leaf-strewn ground before turning to face him.
"I mean it."
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