MAGE 08 By Heck CHAPTER EIGHT Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk THE HOWLING GALE blasted a blizzard across the snowfield, swirling the big flakes into eddies that chased each other over the white landscape. An anaemic sun tried gamely to illuminate the surface, but was thwarted by the thick cloud cover, leaving the land in semi-darkness. Deep, powdery snow clad the ground, piling up in drifts wherever there was an irregularity in the hard-packed ice beneath. It was into this maelstrom that Brenhya and Yan Chou found themselves transported. Neither was dressed for the weather, and the sudden shock of cold brought a gasp as it stole the warrior woman's breath and chilled her bones. The giant seemed unaffected, almost as if he expected it, and ponderously swung his great sword in a scything arc that would have carried her head from her shoulders. Still suffering from the stunning cold, Brenhya's lightning fast reactions were slowed. As a result, the huge blade passed over her head by only fractions of an inch as she ducked. Startled, she danced away, shaking herself vigorously to get the blood flowing and speed the necessary rush of adrenalin. She held her sword defensively while she tried to orient herself in the blinding snowfall. Both combatants were equally hampered by the snowflakes which blasted across their eyes and blurred their vision. Brenhya had the larger target, easier to see, but even so the outline of her massive opponent was distorted and obscured by the storm. Yan Chou had the advantage of longer reach, but was much slower, even though Brenhya's reflexes were slowed by the cold. Dancing close, her feet hampered by the drifts, Brenhya slashed at the enormous hamstrings that were on a level with her chest. Yan Chou met her blade with his own, and the clash of metal rang out above the wailing wind. "Why are we doing this?", Brenhya yelled. Her voice was carried away on the gale, and it was doubtful that her adversary heard, even if he cared. Certainly his voice was inaudible to her, despite the fact that she could see the movements of his lips. She dodged his sword as it chopped downwards to cleave her, slashing upwards herself but missing the mark. She quickly realised that her best opportunity was to keep moving, relying on her speed to keep her safe. She knew that, in a direct contest of strength, she would be unlikely to best this leviathan of a man. His very size and weight [she guessed he must weigh close to half a ton] would give him an advantage in such a test, let alone the vastness of his muscles. In her eventful adult life, Brenhya had yet to meet a normal person who was her physical superior, but this monster was anything but normal. For a being of such size, Yan Chou was agile in an elephantine sort of way. He pivoted on one foot and arced his blade toward her ankles. Because of the snow, she was unable to leap over the steel. She jammed her own sword into the snow, blocking the blow with a clash that jarred her whole arm. The giant let his sword slide up hers, and she let go the hilt just in time to avoid losing her fingers. Yan Chou raised his immense arm to bring the sword down again. Brenhya snatched hers out of the snow and blocked the swing, bracing the flat of her blade against her free hand, elbows slightly bent to absorb the impact. Even so, the force of the blow drove her to her knees, and she struggled to resist the downward force. The splendid muscles of her arms and shoulders bunched and coiled as she pushed against the all but unstoppable power of the behemoth, and was pleased to find that she could withstand him for a time. Yan Chou looked surprised by her remarkable display of strength. Throwing herself to one side, she rolled away through the snow, taking her well out of reach for a moment. She came to her feet, covered in white and spitting snowflakes. Yan Chou was casting about, trying to locate her through the blizzard, and she could see his mouth opening as her yelled to her. She could only imagine the angry curses he hurled at her. Realising her momentary advantage, she crept round behind him, keeping out of his line of sight. She stepped up right behind him and tapped him on the back. Yan Chou twisted round, his huge ham of a hand clutching. The tremendous strength of Brenhya's thighs propelled her upwards in a terrific standing jump, sailing upwards despite the handicap of the snow. Her leap brought her level with the angry Mongoloid features, and her fist, wrapped tightly around the haft of her sword, smashed into the giant's face. Blood sprayed from his mouth and spattered over her chest as he toppled and measured his length in the snow. It seemed to Brenhya that he fell in slow motion, like a felled tree, as she landed lightly on her feet. She wasted no time in springing forward, alighting on her feet on his cavernous chest, raising her broadsword to stab at his throat. With a reaction speed that was startling in one so huge, Yan Chou reached up and seized the warrior by her strong wrists, his enormous hands wrapping tightly around. Desperately, she strove to drive her blade downwards to pierce his neck, and was pleased to note that she made a little progress against his massive arms, each as thick as, and longer than, Brenhya's muscular legs. She raised a foot to stamp on his face, but Yan Chou gave a convulsive, twisting heave, and Brenhya felt herself catapulted from his body to land sprawling in the snow. Brenhya rolled and came to her feet in a fluid, easy motion, the exertion beginning to warm her chilled body. She knew she had to keep moving or the cold, which appeared to have little effect on her opponent, would get to her and it would all be over. Her instinct for self preservation was very strong, and she would keep fighting to her last breath, but that would come all the sooner if she allowed the freezing climate to slow her down. Yan Chou gathered up his sword, which could be used as a pike by any normal man, and Brenhya hurled herself backwards as the blade swung at her bare belly, slashing at it with her own, and danced away. The battle went on. The two strove together, first one having the advantage, then the other. Two very contrasting styles were evident; the lumbering style of the giant, relying on his size and reach, and the quick, graceful skill of the warrior. Brenhya's magnificent body, tall, extremely well muscled, and extraordinarily powerful, looked almost puny by contrast with the gigantic Yan Chou. At one point, the very tip of the giant's blade scored a red line along Brenhya's thigh, and a glancing blow from his foot raised a livid bruise over her ribs. Yan Chou was still bleeding from the mouth after Brenhya's mighty punch, the blood freezing in his long moustache. Brenhya skipped in and out, skilfully avoiding stumbling in the powdery snow, but the tremendous reach of the giant successfully fended her off most of the time. They had been fighting for what seemed an age, and even Brenhya, despite her enormous stamina, was beginning to tire. Yan Chou seemed to show no signs of fatigue, continuing to swing his sword with dogged and vicious determination. At last, Brenhya saw an opening. She stepped nimbly inside his swing, and her sword flashed as she swung at his arm. It clashed against his wrist, biting deep into the flesh, severing the wire-like tendons and embedding itself in the heavy bone. Yan Chou cried out with real pain as his weapon tumbled from his useless fingers, and Brenhya's sword was torn from her grasp by both the numbing impact and the wrench as the giant yanked his arm away. Somersaulting through the snow, Brenhya rolled to snatch up Yan Chou's weapon, almost as long as the warrior was tall. She hefted the mighty blade like a javelin, and cast it with tremendous force. Propelled by the immense strength of her arm, the blade skewered the giant through the belly, causing him to double over and collapse to his knees, moaning unheard under the screaming wind. He was down, but not out, and reached out to grab her with two massive hands. Brenhya dodged easily, leaping into the air to catch his neck in the crotch of her legs. Instantly, her stupendously strong thighs wrapped tight around his throat and clamped down hard, the great arching muscles shutting off his breath and the blood flow to his brain. Clutching with one hand at his abdominal wound, Yan Chou seized the steely hardness of her thigh with the other. His thick fingers dug deep into the flesh, leaving blue bruises and small red arcs where his nails sank in, but making no impression. Brenhya's biceps rolled and flexed into oak-hard mounds as she laid her hands round his forehead and heaved back, giving her legs even more purchase on his bull-like neck. His eyes rolled back in his head as he began to struggle for air, thrashing madly and tossing the warrior about like a rag doll. But desperation lent even more power to Brenhya's thighs, and they were more than equal to the task. Gritting her teeth, she grunted and growled with effort as she pitted every ounce of her great strength against him, squeezing ever harder. The giant gurgled horribly as his face began to turn blue and his thick tongue protruded. Hauling back on his head and crushing his neck with her thighs, Brenhya knew she did not dare relax the pressure for an instant. She was a little surprised that the strength of her thighs was proof against the mighty hand that tried to pull them away, and even when Yan Chou threw caution to the wind and brought his other hand into the struggle, she was able to resist his power and even increase her grip, pumping the power into her legs, exerting phenomenal strength, until she heard the neck bones grinding together with a sickening, gristly sound. At last, lack of blood to the brain and air starvation began to take its toll. Yan Chou's struggles started to weaken, becoming increasingly more feeble until, finally, she felt the huge body go limp between her legs. Brenhya did not relax, however, until she was absolutely sure that the giant was dead. Then she fell back, sucking great lungfuls of icy air into her exhausted body. A wrenching, twisting in her gut, feeling not unlike the sudden release of tautly stretched elastic, was the precursor to Brenhya finding herself gasping on the ground in front of the ruined barracks, her broadsword materialising at her side. She raised herself to her hands and knees, shivering with the cold, as the king and her two companions raced to her side. Pabloth was there first, and grasped her arm with a helping hand as she regained her feet. She felt dizzy and a little shaky on her feet, and Pabloth steadied her as she gazed at him with confused eyes. A few minor cuts and bruises were all that met the man's concerned scrutiny. "Brenhya? You OK?" Her teeth chattered as she shivered her reply. "Mm-Hmm. What the fuck was all that about?" "I don't know", Pabloth confessed, draping a cloak around her shoulders. "You and Yan Chou disappeared, then you came back, and that's all we know. What happened to you?" "The bastard got his wish. We fought. I killed him. Tell you more later. Fuck, I'm cold!" "Let's get you inside. Wallaw!" Pabloth roared for the chamberlain, whose head appeared round the door jamb in an instant. "Sire?" "Get a fire going. And get somebody to heat some water for a hot bath. Quick as you like, man!" Leaning heavily on the king, Brenhya allowed herself to be guided into the palace and given a seat on a bench near the big open hearth, where servants were busily piling kindling in the grate. The king sat next to her, and her two companions sat nearby. "You sure you're OK?", Gurghan asked. "Only Gurghan has never seen you so shook up before!" "I'm fine", she smiled. "Just a bit disorientated, is all. I'll be all right in a minute". "That's how I feel every time ...", Oudreya began. She caught Pabloth's curious eye and looked away. "You know". The servants finished building the fire, and very soon there was a roaring blaze in the hearth. Brenhya's shivering subsided, and she began to feel a little more human. The king moved closer, sharing his body warmth, and they all sat in silence for several minutes. "Are you ready to talk about it yet?", Pabloth said at last. "Yes. I'm getting warmed through, now". "You said you killed Yan Chou", he said. "But only you came back. What happened to him". Brenhya shrugged. "Fucked if I know. We ended up in a pissing snowstorm, but he didn't seem bothered by it at all. The bastard just wanted to beat the shit out of me. Came fucking close once or twice, too". Pabloth raised an incredulous eyebrow, looking at her disbelievingly. "Are you sure?" "Of course I'm bloody sure". There was irritation in Brenhya's voice. She held out her arms, displaying some of her cuts and bruises. "Look at these. How the fuck do you think I got these?" Pabloth looked uncomfortable. "It's just that, well, I didn't think you'd had time for a battle. You were only gone a matter of a couple of moments". "What?" Brenhya's brows furrowed as she stared at him. "What the fuck are you talking about? I was fighting with the bastard for the best part of two hours". Gurghan laid a huge but gentle hand on her arm. "Brenhya, what iss wrong?" "Fuck all. Why?" "Lissen you yourself! Gurghan hass never heard you swear before! You are cursing like a matelot! Your language iss full off profanity!" "Am I? Is it? I hadn't fucking noticed" "There!", Pabloth pointed out. "You did it again". "Fuck! I'll have to watch that". "And again", Oudreya said. "I must admit, in the short time I've known you, I haven't heard you swear before, either". Brenhya looked puzzled, and shifted awkwardly in her chair as she scratched her head. Her hair was wet from the melted snow. "But I don't f... I don't swear. Well, not fucking much, anyway. Shit, I did it again! Fuck! And again!" She closed her eyes and appeared to concentrate. "I can't f... I can't stop it. Even in my head, I'm bloody swearing". "Something must have happened to you, while you were away", Pabloth commented. "There's something weird going on, here". "You're fuck... You're telling me. I always said there was nothing wrong with cursing, in it's place. But not when there's no fucking need. Crap! I have to get a hold on this". Pabloth got up and turned to Oudreya and Gurghan. "I need to talk to the 'champion'. If you two would go through to the back and see Wallaw, he will show you to the guest quarters, and make sure you get something to eat". Gurghan nodded, and turned to Brenhya as he rose. "You call Gurghan if you need anything. OK?" "Of course", Brenhya agreed. "Now fuck off. Oops!" She clapped a hand to her mouth, turning slightly red in the face. "Sorry, Gurghan. I can't help it". The big man smiled understandingly. "That iss OK! What about ..." He jerked his head at Oudreya. "She'll be fine. I f... I trust her". She smiled at Oudreya, who returned it in full measure. "That iss good enough for Gurghan!". The big man and the were-tigress took their leave. A special understanding passed between the king and the warrior as Pabloth took both of Brenhya's hands in his and smiled at her. "Hello, Brenhya". She smiled back at him, with a sudden light in her eyes. "Hello, Chthord". * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It was an extraordinary, if terrifying, experience. The hand closed around Lon's throat and, without pain, he was pulled physically through the very fabric of the wall. He shut his eyes tight and knew a moment of panic as his breath was shut off by his passage through the stone. His head emerged first, and he sucked in air as, incredulously, he observed the surreal sight of the rest of his body being dragged through the wall. Finally, he was dumped unceremoniously on a floor, not knowing where he was, or even if he was in the same building. Footsteps receded in his hearing. The experience left Lon with a gritty feeling in his eyes and a sandy taste in his mouth. He rubbed his eyes and spat as he heaved himself shaking to his hands and knees, and looked around. He found himself in a low, dark room lit by a few red candles that threw eerie shadows into the corners. A five pointed star, a pentagram, was inlaid in gold on the floor, with strange occult symbols inscribed in its points and valleys. The footsteps sounded again, this time coming closer. He looked toward the sound, and saw a tall, upright man pacing sedately toward him. He wore a silver skull cap and a high collared purple robe edged in black braid and embroidered with sigilli. A sculpted, pointed black beard adorned his face, and his aquiline nose and high, arched brows gave him a predatory look, despite his amused expression. Lon was sure he had never seen this man before, and yet there was something strangely familiar about him. The man smiled knowingly, the smile never reaching his eyes. His voice was strong and clear. "Spying! Is it? Trying to overhear what is not your business?!" Lon stammered and spluttered, trying to find his voice. The man lifted his arms to let them fall loosely to his sides in a gesture of resignation. "Hah!", he exclaimed. "Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time before you found out anyway". "Who ...who are you?", Lon blurted out, finding his voice at length. "And what are you doing here?" The man laughed. "You really don't know, do you?" His shape seemed to phase and shift under Lon's amazed stare, and Drosklyn Chaithe stood where he had been. "It's, um, me, doncher know?", he said, picking up his staff. Lon was awestruck by the ease with which Chaithe had performed the magic. "I thought the voice was familiar", he gasped. "Listen, I have to tell you, what you are doing is dangerous. I've read up about Shaitan. You're putting yourself at terrible risk". He did not add that the risk included the entire world. Chaithe draped his skinny arm over Lon's shoulder. The apprentice froze at the touch. "Tut tut". The old man shook his grizzled head. "Don't you think I, um, know that? I'm taking all the precautions, what? Yes. Quite. And, now that you know, let me tell you how far I've got". Lon tried to pull away, and was appalled by the steely strength in the wizened old arm. "I don't think I want to know". "Shush. Of course you do, eh? What wizard worth his salt wouldn't? Eh? Just think; the power of the Great Wizards, within our grasp! What we could do with that, eh? We could make a better world!" "No!", Lon shouted, twisting away from the old man. "It will corrupt you! You won't be able to handle it, and the whole world will be destroyed if, when you release Shaitan. And you will! You won't be able to prevent it!" "Tush, lad! All the wards and ties are in place, um, just in case, doncher know. Even if Lord Shaitan manifests, which I won't, um, allow, you know, he will be restrained within the pentagram, what? It's his power, you see, the power he once granted to the Great Wizards, that I seek. I do not plan to release him. That would be, um, foolish, eh?" "But the power corrupted them!" There was a desperate edge to Lon's voice, now. "They couldn't handle it, and there were scores of them! Now, there's just you! What makes you think you would to any better?" "And you, lad" Chaithe smiled. "And you. I will teach you, and together we will harness his power, eh? We can put an end to all the suffering in the world". The old man's voice sounded perfectly calm and reasonable, but Lon noticed a mad glint in his eye that unsettled the apprentice even more. "The Great Wizards were full of noble intentions, too, I expect", he said, gulping down his fear, trying to keep his voice calm. "But in the end, there were overtaken by greed and, and, er, greed. It destroyed them, and nearly destroyed the world in the process". "That won't happen to us, lad", Chaithe smiled. "Come on. What do you say?" Lon pushed himself away from the wizard in disgust. "No! It is evil and obscene, and I will be no part of it!" "Ah. Too bad". The old man gestured. There were no dramatic incantations, no flash of light or puff of smoke, but Lon found himself sitting on a stool against the far wall, surrounded by a stout iron cage. "Then you will have to stay in there for now. Don't worry, I have no intention of harming you". The phasing effect came over him again, and the tall, stern figure was there again. "That's better. That doddery old fool is a good disguise, lulls you into a false sense of security. But he is a bit tedious, don't you think?" Lon did not reply. Events had left him feeling more than a little stunned. Professionally, he could not help but admire the skill of the magician and the ease with which he had been imprisoned, but the admiration was tempered with a healthy fear and disgust for what Chaithe had planned. "Overwhelmed, are we?" Chaithe came to stand close to the cage. "Speechless, is it?" Lon swallowed his fear. He could not stand up in the cage, but he could turn on the stool, partly turning his back to his captor, ostensibly showing disdain. The words of a fire spell, the only offensive magic he knew he had the skill to accomplish, formed on his lips. "Ah-a-Ah", Chaithe smiled, wagging an admonishing finger. "No magic. The bars, you see, are made of iron which, as you know, has a natural dampening effect. In addition, I have treated them with a spell of my own, which makes them impervious to hostile magic. And besides". He turned away with a careless gesture. "Your pathetic abilities could have no possible effect on me. I am so close to gaining the power of the Mages, I am all but invincible". He turned back to Lon, stroking his neatly pointed beard. "That is not a conceit, by the way. Merely a statement of fact. Now, shall we see what your lady friend has been up to?" A heavy rectangular drape hung against the opposite wall. Chaithe twitched it aside, to reveal a large mirror of highly polished tin, over which he made some complicated passes with his hands. Like oil on water, colours swirled and boiled in the reflective surface, coalescing into a clear image. To Lon, it was as if the mirror had become a window. A window into a large hall, with long tables down each side and an open hearth with a blazing fire in the centre. The viewpoint swung around, to focus on two tall figures sitting on a low bench. A man and a woman, hands clasped together and gazing deep into each other's eyes. A physically imposing and beautifully muscled woman with glossy, copper coloured hair, instantly recognisable to Lon. "Brenhya!", he breathed, concern chasing delight across his narrow face. Concern, because he was sure that the wizard was not showing him this for amusement. There was something unpleasant in store for his lovely friend. The man was familiar, too, and he remembered an encounter many months ago. Brenhya and he, together with a dwarven friend, had been trailing a daemon and had got into a skirmish with a band of fanatics. This man, he seemed to remember, had helped them rout their attackers and, much to Lon's chagrin, had enjoyed a brief liaison with Brenhya. He had a strange name, what was it? Chth...something? "Yes". Chaithe smiled a conspiratorial smile. "You thought I wasn't paying attention to her, on the docks, didn't you? But she is an integral part of the whole thing, you see. The final ritual calls for the, how shall I say, participation of a perfect human specimen". He began to pace back and forth, using expansive gestures as he harangued his captive audience. "And while it is a truism that absolute perfection is unattainable, I think you will agree that your friend is as close as makes no difference, what?" "What kind of participation?", Lon asked anxiously. "All in good time, all in good time. You may be rightly proud of her, though. She has passed all the tests I have set her, and passed them well, I might say". "Tests? What sort of tests?" "Ah-Hah, I see your professional curiosity can't be stilled, eh? Good, good. Such a pity that you decided to oppose me. Ah, well. The tests. Well, you see, she has to be perfect in ways other than the physical, what? I have been quite ingenious, you know. To begin with, I tested her sense of duty and loyalty. That started, oh, months ago. Shortly after you came here, in fact. I visited Anusol with, shall we say, certain difficulties". Chaithe dragged a chair and sat before Lon's cage, as if he was visiting a friend and chatting by the fire. He leaned close. "You see, I knew that the king could not cope without help. I also knew of his past, er, relationship with Brenhya". He held up a finger to silence Lon's question. "How I knew is not important. I surmised, rightly, that His Majesty would seek assistance from the Sisterhood, and that Brenhya would be the one to respond. She did and, you will be pleased to know, without hesitation. "The second trial involved her reaction to a surprise attack. I 'induced' two ne'er-do-wells to ambush her as she emerged from an inn, early in the morning. She handled the situation as well as I expected but then, of course, she is a trained warrior. I expected nothing less. "Next, I decided to test her reaction to the unexpected. And, I think you'll agree, this was rather clever of me. In the hills near here, a were- tigress has made her home. Very secretive, and keeping herself very much to herself. I gave her an overwhelming urge to attack your friend. Not too difficult when you know how, you know. "In this, Brenhya exceeded my expectations, I must say. She not only overcame the beast, but she actually befriended her. I was most impressed. "Most recently, I tested her prowess in battle. I conjured a giant, and pitted her against him. He was twice her size, and many times her weight. And just to make things more tasking, I placed them both in a blizzard!" Chaithe laughed wickedly at his own ingenuity. Despite himself, Lon was on the edge of his stool, caught up in the narrative. "She acquitted herself very well indeed", Chaithe went on. "She fulfilled my every expectation. "Presently, I have removed from her certain inhibitions, just to see how she copes with that. I have left her with her moral sense, and I hope she will use that to overcome her lack of restraint. And, finally and very soon, I shall test her strength. "But now, I am tired, and must rest. You, my friend, may return to your room. You will not be allowed to leave, of course. You will find my safeguards more than adequate". * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The air almost crackled between them as they sat together. "What's all this fu.. Damn! What's all this King Pabloth business? I thought you name was Chthord". "It is", the king replied. He looked deeply into Brenhya's startlingly intelligent eyes. "But it's a tradition of my country that, when the heir takes up the throne, he assumes the name that has been used by his forefathers". "But you're only Pabloth the third". "It's a short tradition", Chthord smiled. "Every tradition has to start somewhere. This one was started by my grandfather. He said it would give the people a sense of continuity. That may be true but, secretly, I think it was just an old man's vanity". "When we met on the road, that day, you said you were on your way home because your father was dying, and you had family duties. But you never let on that you were a prince of any sort, let alone a Crown Prince". "It was my way", he shrugged. "My father married late in life. My mother died during childbirth. So I always knew I had only a limited time for a life of my own, for adventure and suchlike. So I travelled for years as a sort of errant, getting into trouble and making my own way in life, but I never told anybody who I was, in case they used it against Anusol. You can understand that, I imagine". Brenhya shifted slightly on the bench. Her thigh snuggled up to the king's with warm and gentle pressure, causing a growing tightness in his groin. "Maybe. I should be asking you about your troubles and the reason you asked for me". She gave him one of her incandescent smiles, loading it with lasciviousness. "But I can't help thinking about the last time we met". Chthord gave a short laugh and returned her smile with one just as intense. "I've thought of little else since I sent the message". His face came very close to hers and his gaze intensified. The pitch of his voice dropped an octave and became quiet and breathy. "You were, you are, the most amazing woman I ever met. So incredibly strong, so muscular, so astounding in battle, yet so beautifully womanly. So hard and soft at the same time, like silk over steel. I just want to..." Brenhya stilled his lips with an elegant finger. "Just shut the fuck up and kiss me, you idiot". Chthord did not need to be told twice. He gathered her in his arms and brushed her lips lightly with his own. Brenhya made a slight tut noise. Her hand went to the back of his head and crushed his lips on hers, forcing her tongue between his teeth. Their tongues met and writhed about each other, probing deep and sliding together. The man's hands roamed freely over her magnificent body, exploring every square inch of exposed skin. Without breaking contact with his lips, Brenhya expertly shucked off her hard leather pauldron, and one of his hands found her splendid breast, raising a firm mound under her soft chamois halter. The other hand found her upper arm and, to his delight, Brenhya repeatedly flexed and relaxed her superb bicep, giving him alternating handfuls of granite hardness and feminine softness. Brenhya was feeling distinctly moist, and continued kissing him deeply as she rose to her feet, drawing him up him her. He stood very close, and she felt the fully tumescent hardness of him, pressing against her. Never losing contact for an instant, the woman removed her halter and short skirt together with her brief undergarment. His hands met the nakedness of her body with delight, filling him with wonder as his fingers explored. Reluctantly, he stepped away from her to remove his own clothing, letting his eyes wander over her as he did so. She smiled coquettishly and raised her arms, lifting the heavy curtain of her chestnut hair to let it tumble in cascades around her shoulders. The muscles in her arms and shoulders rolled and flexed into full bellied mounds as she moved, lifting her breasts high on the solid slabs of pectorals. She cocked a hip and tensed her belly, bringing the perfect squares of her abdomen into relief. Chthord sighed deeply, fighting to stop himself from drooling, as he let his gaze travel down her body to alight on the long, long legs that seemed to go on forever. The stupendous strength that could be generated by those legs was clearly visible in the flared musculature, and the overall power of the woman was almost palpable. The firelight flickered across her body as she placed her hands on her hips, causing Chthord to suck in a breath through his teeth. Naked too, now, his body was almost as pleasing to her as hers was to him. Matching her in height, he was well muscled and lightly covered in dark hair on his chest, arms and legs. His proud phallus thrust out before him like a bowsprit, and Brenhya licked her lips as her eyes rested upon it. "Come here", she whispered, taking his hand and drawing him down to kneel in the warmth of the fire, oblivious to the discomfort of the hard packed earth floor. He kissed her hard but briefly, before lowering his mouth to her breasts, alternately licking and sucking at her erect, cherry sized nipples. She arched her head back as a wave of pleasure coursed through her. "Oh, that's good", she gasped. "That's fucking good. Oops! Sorry". "It's OK. Don't try to control your language just now". "Right. Fucking right. Get your arse up here". Her large and powerful hands went under his buttocks and, with little effort, lifted him to his feet. Chthord gave a small gasp, both at her casual display of strength, and the fact that his penis was now brushing her face. Brenhya let out a low moan as her mouth enfolded the engorged head, licking and kissing at the purple tip, occasionally letting her sinuous tongue slide down the impressive length of the underside. Her strong hands cupped his buttocks and drew him even closer, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. He could not restrain a gasp as the warm moistness began to move. She sucked firmly, feeling the throbbing tumescence filling her mouth. Chthord's fingers knotted in Brenhya's chestnut tresses as she began to move more rapidly. Her head bobbed back and forth, and her powerful hands controlled the movement of the man's body, her arm muscles providing a visual display of her strength. Chthord could not help but let a hand stray to her shoulder, letting his fingers explore the extraordinarily feminine hardness. Both hands were on her shoulders, now, in an effort to steady himself as his passion mounted. He felt his knees buckle slightly, but felt perfectly safe with the woman's hands on his backside; he trusted her strength completely, knowing she was more than capable of holding him upright, no matter how unsteady he became, and gave himself up entirely to her ministrations. Brenhya liked the feeling of having this man under her control. Although she was physically capable of dominating any man, she was by no means a controlling or dominating person, and gave of herself in love joyously and without restraint. But she had to admit that this was stimulating, and felt her own wetness growing at her groin. For his part, Chthord found the sensation of being with a woman who had the strength to utterly dominate him, but who chose not to do so, who seemed to be as interested in his pleasure as she was in her own, to be the most fantastic sexual experience of his life. Chthord felt the beginnings of an orgasm welling up within him. He began to thrust his hips against her, and in response Brenhya began to suck harder. She tightened her grip on his buttocks, preventing any withdrawal he may have had in mind. Nothing could have been further from his mind, though, and he leaned into her, thrusting faster and faster. "Oh, gods, Brenhya! Brenhya! Oh, my! I'm coming! I'm coming!" Chthord's hard body went rigid as the first spasm of his climactic orgasm claimed him. Brenhya held him close, taking his full length into her mouth as his jism began to spurt, covering her tongue with hot, salty fluid. She swallowed hard, but the semen overflowed, running down her chin in a glutinous stream. Chthord grunted and sucked air through his tightly clenched teeth as wave after wave of sheer pleasure washed through him. "Aah! Aah! Agh! Nnnnngh! Ah, Brenhya, you're fantas..oh! Ooooooh!" He slumped forward, letting her take his whole weight. She held his phallus in her mouth until his spasms subsided entirely, and a little longer, just because she liked the sensation. She ran her hands up his back, scratching lightly with her nails, sending little tingling waves of pleasure skittering across his skin. Her stupendous thigh muscles bunched as she stood, effortlessly taking his weight across her broad shoulder. Chthord's eyes opened wide as he felt his feet leave the ground. A great smile spread across his face as he was carried the few paces to the low bench and was lowered gently and tenderly to the seat. He looked up at the magnificent woman towering above him, looking stunningly beautiful with the firelight playing across her golden skin. "Don't get too fucking comfortable", she smiled. "I'm not finished with you, yet. I need to be fucked, and well fucked, before I'm much older". "You'll get fucked". The wideness of Chthord's grin matched her own. "Just give me a minute". Brenhya bent forward, her splendid breasts swaying slightly, and planted a long, tender kiss on his willing mouth. Her cupped her breasts in both hands, surrendering to the moment and already feeling, to his evident delight, the beginnings of fresh stirrings in his loins. She moved away and stood before him, allowing his hungry eyes to devour her tremendous physique. "Gods, Brenhya, you're beautiful!" "So you say", she said, raising her arms to lift the heavy curtain of hair from her face. The perfect domes of her biceps rose as she did so. "So others say. Never fucking saw it, myself". Brenhya wiped her sticky chin with the back of one large, elegant hand. She held out her hands, taking both of his, and raised him to his feet. She tickled playfully at his groin. "Let's see if we can breathe some life into that big boy". Standing with only inches between them, Brenhya began to display her terrific muscularity. She cocked both her arms, and the biceps rolled up into steely balls of power. At the same time, she extended a leg and tensed the muscles so that the limb became a column of polished oak, while she exhaled and flexed her belly into a flat sheet of iron. Chthord knew he did not have to be bashful with this glorious woman. He did not hesitate to lift his hands to wrap them around the mounds of her biceps, squeezing hard to test their resilience and finding that his probing fingers made no impression. He let his hands slide onto her shoulders and down across her chest to fondle her amazing breasts, rolling her sensitive cherry-sized nipples between finger and thumb. Brenhya moaned at the sensation. "Mmm. That's fucking good", she breathed. "Keep going". His hands slid round to her back, tracing the outline of the muscles. She rolled her shoulders, and the muscles coiled smoothly under his hands. He sighed as he felt his manhood begin to stir. Brenhya slowly turned, leaning back against him, letting her hand trail across his penis, sending a tiny thrill up his body. He reached around, cupping her breasts and letting his face snuggle into the soft glossy chestnut waves of her hair, breathing in the smell of her. With a tiny laugh, Brenhya clamped her arms to her sides, trapping his inextricably and causing him to laugh as he tried to in vain to extract them. Bending from the waist, she lifted him from the ground, his feet dangling uselessly, her hard round buttocks pressing against his manhood. She felt the hardness of his swollen phallus nestling in the cleft between the twin moons of her behind. "Feels like you're ready", she smiled. Keeping him clamped to her back, she knelt down. She released him, and lowered herself to elbows and knees, raising her perfect backside. "Fuck me", she instructed. "Fuck me from behind". Chthord needed no second bidding. Kneeling behind her, he positioned himself at her rear, laying his penis against the hot wetness of her vagina. Without penetrating, he began slowly to move, rubbing his thick, long member across her swollen clitoris. "Oh fuck!" Brenhya breathed. "Fuck, that's good. Nobody did that to me before. More!" With pleasure, he complied, his fingers hooking around her hips for purchase. His partner began to moan as her throbbing clit responded to the stimulation, sending shivers of joy through her as her juices flowed. "Mmm! Now!", she demanded. "Fuck me now! Fuck me hard!" The swollen head of Chthord's impressive penis nudged the open lips of Brenhya's vagina. She pressed herself back against him, admitting him to her warm, wet depths, and he rammed inside to his full length. "Oh, yes!" Brenhya cried out. "Again! Fuck me harder!" Chthord began to move in earnest, now, slamming himself repeatedly against her full, hard buttocks and steely columns of her thighs. Grunting with effort, he pumped his pelvis back and forth, driving deep inside the welcoming tunnel with each thrust. Because he had so recently climaxed, he was able to last longer, long enough to satisfy this incredible woman, he hoped. Brenhya was the most astounding woman he had ever met, and he desperately wanted to fulfil her needs as well as his own. In addition, he was also a very fit and athletic man, so he was able to continue banging into her as hard as she needed for as long as she needed. Brenhya threw back her head and opened her mouth wide as the urgency began to rise in her. She slammed herself backwards as hard as Chthord thrust forwards, and their skins slapped moistly together. Sweat glistened on their two bodies, illuminated by the flickering fire, and their breathing came in short, rapid gasps. The climax was building in her, now, and Chthord knew it. He increased the rate of his thrusts even more as he tried to time their orgasms so they came together. Brenhya moaned through chewed lips, squeezing tightly with her inner muscles on each thrust, spurring her man on to even greater efforts. Thoroughly disinhibited, she yelled his name as her climax neared. "Chthord! Oh fuck, Chthord! Yes! Oh, Goddess! Yes! Yes!" Chthord himself felt his own orgasm welling up, and shouted wordlessly in his ecstasy. "Yah! Ohaah! Nyegh! Naaaaagh! His last clear thought, before the shuddering ecstasy claimed him, was that sex with a powerful woman, and this powerful woman in particular, was, without doubt, the most wonderful and exciting thing in the world. Finally, cataclysmically, they both came together, howling their joy to the rafters, not caring who heard. The waves of Brenhya's climax flooded her body, her belly clenching rhythmically with each wave, while Chthord went rigid as he pumped his hot semen deep into her body. Just as they thought the climax would go on forever and they would end their days in everlasting orgasm, the waves began to subside, diminishing over many long seconds into the tiny, popping orgasms that follow good sex, and trailing off to a relaxed, warm silence filled with the panting of their breath. Chthord collapsed across her back, resting his exhausted cheek against her, while Brenhya let her head fall forward onto her hands with a satisfied grin on her lovely face. "Chthord?" "Mm?" "I know I said I was going to try to avoid the profanity. But, just one last time - that was the fucking best!"