“I am looking for the lines.” I say, tossing my horns. “The Ley Lines. They will guide us.”
My lady skips lithely over a particularly soggy looking area. “I know about Ley Lines. I think.” Her brow furrows. “What are Ley Lines?”
“I can feel them.” I put my hand to my chest. “It is the way of the Brag.”
“Interesting. I would have called it heartburn,” she says, dodging around a puddle as we walk under a slab of overhanging rock. “But then this is…the Underhill. So, you lead the way, Warden.”
Her tone puzzles me. On the one hand, her words are positive, but I don’t feel any positivity coming from her. As I need to concentrate on the lines, I push the strangeness to the back of my mind and reach out.
There is one, but it is a long way away, its presence a mere whisper on the wind.
“We have a way to go, my lady.” I stamp my foot as I shift to my Brag form. “I would suggest it would be easier if you ride me.”
“Oh, I bet you would.” She stares at me and puts her hands on her hips. “Do you think I’m that sort of girl?”
With two strides, I have her up against the rock face, my hands planted either side of her head as I gaze down on her pretty form.
“You are no girl of any sort,” I hear myself rasp.
“Oh? Really.” She bunches up her lips and glares at me, pinned and unable to go anywhere. “I think you’ll find I’m the sort ofgirlwho’ll do unpleasant things to your private parts in your sleep.”
My rear legs do a dance at the thought of her doinganythingin the vicinity of my todger. The appendage itself pulses with a desire to grow I haven’t felt in a long time.
“Which makes you a formidable warrior,” I respond. “And I wouldn’t ask just anyone to ride me.”
For a second, she keeps up the glare, then her face softens slightly.
“And I won’t ride just anyone,” she says quietly. “But I need to get back to my tavern.”
“And I have prisoners to deal with.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Her mouth quirks in a smile and my todger swells.
I take a step back and offer her my arm.
“My lady.” I bow as she takes it and I swing her onto my back.
“Where do I hold on?” she asks, squirming around and grinding herself against my hide. “You’re slippery.”
I do my best to hold back a groan, reaching behind me to grab her hands and pull them around my abdomen.
“Hold on here,” I rasp through gritted teeth. My todger is all the way out now and aching terribly.
The damned thing always has a mind of its own, and now it is going to be incredibly uncomfortable when I move.
Lady Ryle’s hands clutch my abdomen, and my todger emits a glob of spend. I hear it hit the ground.
“Time to go, my lady,” I say. “Keep a tight hold.”
Unable to help myself, I rear, and then everything explodes, my hooves eating up the distance between where we fell throughthe portal towards the lines which should be able to lead us out of the Underhill.
On my back, my lady remains steady, her body pressed against my torso, her legs gripping me tightly. For the first hour, my todger remains as it began, swinging freely between my legs. I do not understand its reaction to the female riding me. The appendage has never been this unruly, and why would it? I have been around females many times.
Obviously I cannot take a mate while I am immortal, but this does not explain the behaviour of my todger. It bends to my will and not the other way around.
My thoughts are interrupted by a cry from my lady.
“Stop, Warden! Stop!”
