Hear us now, the thrice-scarred youth
The Mistress of the Wolves
Night had fully engulfed the land when the Percin caravan hauled itself into the small roadside dell Rendrick had ear-marked for their first night’s camp. The ranger, Keira, and Tiberius led the way into the sheltered space, guarded on all sides by high outcroppings of stone and roofed by the canopies of great oaks that had taken root there. All three were exhausted, their fronts covered in mud, evidence of their recent labors of dislodging the latest wagon wheel.
With beast she met on glen on fen
Soft whispers, soft touches
You hungry for more? I ask as I pump The salty, thick serum You lust for throughout your quivering, firm body Slick from night duties Performed with a care Most would deem rare.
It was the strange sounds that roused the man from his slumber. The snuffling of inquisitive noses as well as the soft crunching of careful footsteps in fresh fallen snow. Through small spaces in the walls of his cabin, the light of the full moon shone but every now and then one of these meager sources of light would go dark for but a moment as some hulking form passed.
With feather-soft touches kissing flesh, I need you,
I kneel before you, thusly knighted, Betwixt slick, smooth thighs I dine delighted,
Though my scars knit together with reluctant ease I must consider which drive within myself I must appease Be it lust, wrath, or self destruction All must be fulfilled within mine minds construction Droplets of blood spilt here and there Hold but a knives edge to true despair What darkness lurks beyond belief Hold me … Continue reading Past’s Plea