Isaac nearly shrieked.His cock was unbearably sensitive,almost to the point of agony, and he tried resisting for the first time sincethey started.In response, she grabbed him by the shoulder, lifted his entiretorso from the floor, and shoved his face between her breasts.Her chest furwas soft and fluffy.His world became nothing but her.
“Almost there, love.”
She alternated between pounding and grinding, using himpurely for her own sake.The sensitivity was excruciating, and Isaac would haveyelled if his face wasn’t muffled by the valley of her breasts.When he triedto pull away, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight, stopping himfrom squirming, her claws digging into his back as her thrusts became moreerratic and needful.Finally, without a word of warning, her breath hitched,her body shook, and she squeezed him so tightly that the breath fled from hislungs.Her insides clenched and rolled.Her cry echoed over the chapel walls.With a carpet of fur in his face, and all her muscles flexing around him, hecould only groan into her chest as she rode through her pleasure.
Gradually, with a dying of sound and motion, she relaxed,her grip on his shoulder loosening more and more until he was dropped back tothe floor like a heavy sack of grain.After a few stupefied blinks, she lookeddown at him, giving a sharp sigh of satisfaction.He looked away.She bentdown, gripped his head, and held his face perfectly stillwhile she dragged her tongue laboriously across his cheek, as if painting himfor ownership.
“You know,” she whispered.“I like the way you moan,squire.”
Isaac could only breathe and watch the ceiling.
Without ceremony, she lifted herself off his cock andclimbed back to her feet.“All the fight pounded out of you, then?”
He made a ragged sound.
She glanced back towards the darkened stairway leading outof the chapel.After sparing him another glance, she began to walk down theaisle of pews with casual confidence, her ass still exposed, her thighsglistening wet, her tail perked and wagging.
“Don’t go nowhere!”she called, disappearing up the stairs.
Isaac didn’t get up off the floor.He didn’t feel capable ofmoving at all.The ache in his pelvis was growing in intensity, and he felt asif he’d attempted to sprint across a mile of sand.There was no part of hisbody that was not covered in some combination ofsweat, blood, saliva, and both of their emissions.
Instead, as his body convalesced, his mind drifted away.Hefelt his thoughts drifting away from the tomb, away from the desert, as if hecould suddenly see through the rock and sand and bone.He had never felt soclear of mind.
He imagined fields of wheat shining in the sun.He imaginedtowns of stone and brick, towers and castles, palaces and temples.He imagineduncharted jungles teeming with life and danger.He imagined frigates sailingthrough storms, horsemen galloping through mountain passes, airborne machinesflying through the heavens with magic and metal.
He imagined meeting friends at a tavern.He imaginedfighting duels with bandits, their swords clashing in mud and rain.He imaginedmeeting grand sorcerers so wizened and old they marked generations of people asmost do the seasons.He imagined holding audience with the kings and queens ofthe realm, leading to a fight against fabled knights on the pitched field ofbattle.Most of all, he imagined bedding many women, of all shapes and species,showing them the wonders he had just experienced.
The old shame burned on his face.These were his usualdreams.They had been a comfort to him all his life.Every night, he had lainin bed, tired and wounded, imagining the things he might accomplish.But hewould always tell himself, bitterly, that these were only fantasies, somethinghe would be punished for if he ever spoke them aloud.Year by year, he would sleep and wake and study, and the dreams had recededfrom his mind.
Only his father mattered.Only his training mattered.Thatwas his purpose.That was his duty.
That was why he was born.
But now, lying before the altar of a mortuary chapel,staring up into a ceiling buttressed with giant vertebrae, Isaac dreamed hisold dreams.They were just as rich and strong and vivid as they had been whenhe was a boy.
On the edge of tears, he finally allowed himself to want.
Footsteps echoed through the chapel.Zaria emerged from thedarkness with her poleaxe in hand, which was still impaled into the screamingface of the shibboleth.She was trying to yank the axe blade free.After a fewmore attempts, she struck the human head into the floor, braced her footagainst it, and yanked the blade from its face.
“Come now,” she called, strolling between the pews, her sexand thighs still exposed.“Up you go.Quit lyin’ about.”
He didn’t move.He didn’t feel ready to stand.She continuedto saunter across the chapel, pausing only to grab at the carpet lying in theaisle.She wiped the ancient fabric between her legs.Cum streaked the fabric.
Isaac grimaced at the sight.
“What?”she asked.“Think the sorceress’ll be mad?”
He leaned his head back against the floor, returning hisfocus to the present.
She came over and stood above him, the green firelightshining on her leather armor.“Sheathe yourself, at the very least.”
He pulled his robes back to their proper position.She helddown an open hand, flicking her head upwards.He shoved it away and climbedback to his feet, wincing at the pain in his groin.He would be amazed if hispelvis wasn’t cracked.He was certainly amazed she hadn’t bitten through thearteries in his neck.Frankly, he was amazed that he had survived theexperience at all.
“Oh, come on,” Zaria said.“Don’t look so mallow.I’m clean.Won’t be no pus out your piss hole.”
He shook his head and looked away.
“Hey,” she said, clamping an arm on his shoulder.“Youfucked me first, and I had to even things.It’s standard business.”She paused.“Well, mostly.”
