Return to Grace's End
On the southern edge of the Free Lands, where the human kingdoms, fiefdoms, tribes, and city-states jockeyed and schemed and warred for dominance, there was an expansive forest running through deep valleys and jagged mountains that all served as a natural barrier to the unified empire of the elves. At the center of this forest—halfway in, along the singular highway hewn through that rugged land—was Grace’s End, the sole elven settlement to be found in the in the Free Lands.
Riding along that dusty, well rutted, ever-shaded highway was a caravan; ten-wagon strong, with riders and carts and a not-insignificant cadre of armed guards and camp followers. Loaded on the wagons were goods and luxuries. Wines and liquors. Spiced cheeses. Rarefied herbs. Alchemical reagents. Things that were not easily produced in the unchanging empire of the elves.
It was in that caravan—riding within a chartered passenger carriage—that the mercenary swordsman, well-traveled adventurer, and all-around hero Kallen Blackblade was making a young harlot moan through her third climax. He held her throat as he pounded into her, watching her tongue loll and her eyes roll up as her cunt spasm around his shaft.
Unfortunately, her blissful, orgasmic delirium was not shared by Kallen. As he felt her climax slowly recede, he pulled out of her and sat on the edge of the bed, his manhood still erect and hard as steel, breathing steadily as he rode out his palpable frustration.
The young harlot, whose name she gave a Cella, raised her head to the renowned adventurer. "No... luck?" she said between ragged breaths.
"No luck," he said grimly.
Cella let out a soft groan as her head fell back. "I'm... gonna die."
Kallen chuckled at this, despite himself. "I've not managed to kill anyone that way. It'd make an interesting story."
"Not... for me..." she said, her head sunk between the plush red pillows of the carriage bed.
"Regardless, I wouldn't worry. I think I'm done for the day."
"Oh. OK," her voice, slightly muffled by the pillows, still bore a hint of disappointment. "I, uh, don't offer refunds..."
Kallen smirked at this, but the shapely blonde girl continued as she clawed her way back upright. "...but I could always come by again on the way back, hero... free of charge?"
"Thank you," he said. He wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded at the pretty young woman. "If I decide to... make another go at things, I'll be sure to come to you."
He saw her smile in the flickering candlelight, and saw the curiosity in her eyes, as well. She scooted over near him.
"Were you serious?" Cella said, her hand resting on his firm shoulder. "You've really never gotten off?"
"Not for a few decades that I can remember," he said with a sigh. "And I'm pretty sure I would remember."
Cella cocked her head. "Decades? How old are you, hero?"
Kallen paused, adding it up in his head. "I've seen forty-three summers, give or take a few."
She stared at him. "I don't believe you."
Kallen turned to glance at the mirror set on the wall of the carriage. Gray eyes stared back from a tan, firm-featured face with a trimmed mop of chocolate brown hair. Magic healing had kept the worst of the scarring away, but even with the weathering from years of combat, treacherous environs, and general acts of danger and recklessness, he looked like someone almost two decades younger.
"I guess a life of adventure has kept me young," he said, looking back at her. "Are you that surprised?"
She grinned. "More surprised that after all those years of ruins of combing through ruins, you never bothered finding something to help you cum."
Kallen Blackblade gave a rueful laugh. "I won't lie. It's definitely near the top of my list of things to look for."
Night fell on the forest. As vision waned, the caravan slowed to a stop and the various merchants, laborers, servants, and passengers quickly moved to set up a communal camp up and down the procession.
Kallen could see the glow of roaring campfires out the slatted window of his carriage; could hear the sounds of music and song from his traveling compatriots. He felt the carriage rolled to a halt in its place in the caravan line, and a moment later the door creaked open and the driver, a lanky woman with dark, wiry hair, poked her head inside.
"The festivities are ongoing, ser. I'm sure you'd like to join them?"
Kallen shook his head. "I'd rather sleep. Why don't you go?"
The driver tipped back her wide-brimmed hat, leveling a quizzical expression his way. "Are you sure, ser? I have a duty to stay with my carriage, while I'm sure many would delight in hearing your tales."
"There's plenty of delight to be had already without me. Go on." Kallen nodded to his intricately runed longsword, sheathed and propped against the corner. "No one will run off with your carriage while I'm in it, at any rate."
The driver considered this, for a moment. "Very well," she said at last. "Thank you, ser. May your rest be sound and sweet."
"I'm sure it will," he lied.
He laid in the carriage bed, listening to the steady murmur of revelry outside. As he lay there, he wondered how many had joined the caravan for the chance to see Grace's End and the supposed wonders it held. Wondered how many wouldn't return.
It was trade that had drawn his family to join, so many years ago, when he had only just become a man. Elven goods fetched exorbitant prices from the nobles who craved the status owning such items brought them. It had been that same trade that had brought the bandits who hid and camped in the forest in those times. The bandits who had attacked his caravan; killing, kidnapping, and looting with a merciless determination.
They'd thought him dead when they left him. Those had been the first trails on the long roadmap of scars that covered his body, and they had been the hardest. The scars he had earned when he returned to purge the forest of the bandits—returned with years of training, experience, and the liquid ebony blade that he was now known by—had been far easier to bear.
Now, even two decades later, he would occasionally feel compelled to travel the road again to Grace's End, and the truth was he didn't really know why. To honor his family? To ensure the forest highway remained safe? To see Grace's End again, where he had first walked, alone, bloody, and broken to, only to emerge with a new purpose to his life?
It was a mystery to him, one he had long ago given up on understanding.
"The whims of adventurers," he murmured with a wry smile as he drifted off to sleep.
Kallen Blackblade's dream was the same dream he had every night—without fail—for as far back as his memory traveled. There was a door. Wooden. Ornate. Covered with runes. It opened, and then he was standing in a room. Everything around him was a strange smear of blurred color, but he knew he was somewhere nice. Curved wooden walls. A fireplace. A wide, wine-red couch.
Kallen could feel her beauty, a beauty that held warmth to that felt like rays of the sun. Beauty so strong her individual features melted into one another.
All save the eyes. Powerful, glowing violet eyes that burrowed into him. Saw into places inside him he wasn't even aware of.
"Kallen," she said with a voice like silk as she leans back in that couch, crossing her long, lovely legs. "You return to me again."
"Where am I?" he says every time. Every time, he receives no answer.
"Kallen," she repeats, saying his name like she savors it. "Come to me, Kallen."
He knew he should leave. Knew it dangerous. But he couldn't stop himself. He approached.
She pulled him down next to her, sliding her fingers—long, smooth, and soft fingers—along his shoulders. "So strong... So powerful... Have you missed me, Kallen?"
Kallen felt her touch along his scars, scars from battle and conflict and strife, and the aches in his body fade, aches he hadn't known was there till it was gone.
"I don't... know you..." he said, trying to focus beyond the delicate sensation of her touch.
"Oh..." she whispered, her lips just above his ear. He felt her supple chest pushing against his back. "That's not true. Part of you remembers."
Kallen didn't know he was naked in the dream. Didn't know she was reaching for his manhood till those gentle fingers wrapped around it, sliding slowly down his shaft with a sensation that took his breath away.
"This part of you always remembers..." she said, hot mirth in her voice. He arched back against her as she stroked his cock, the sensation like a bolt of lightning up his spine. Her other hand cupped his balls, massaging them gently as she pumped his shaft.
"Always," she whispered into his ear, her voice dripping with pleasure.
Kallen tried to reach behind himself. Tried to stop her. But he couldn't get his hands to work. In seconds his body was at the edge, the edge of ecstasy that rose and rose but never peaked.
"Please..." he choked, the exquisite torture already too much.
"But it's what you need, Kallen," she whispered. "You know it's what you need."
Her hands slide up to wrap around his chest, holding him as something shifts in the dream. He looks down to see the slender, beautiful form kneeling in front of him now as well. Her first form holds him in a tight embrace while the other wraps her lips around the tip of his cock and sinks down on it with a torturous slowness.
Kallen moaned, his hips shaking as the woman's slick tongue and hot, wet mouth sent his pleasure skyrocketing to levels he never thought imaginable.
"That's right," she giggled as his hips bucked involuntarily, slid his cock deeper into the waiting, eager mouth. "Do it. Give in to it. Fuck all your worries and fears and doubts all away..."
The form's mouth synchronized her movements with his, sinking her mouth down as he pushed until his throbbing manhood was pushing deep into her accepting throat. It went on and on like that, an unending machine of dark, tortured ecstasy.
Kallen tried to stop. To think. To remember that it was a dream and not real. But just like every night, he had no control. The pleasure ruled him. A pleasure that never stopped. Never crested. Just continued to build and build until he was lost in it; lost in the sensation of pleasure so intense it becomes pain—but he didn't care.
"Perfect," the voice cooed softly in his ear. "So perfect." But he didn't hear. His mind was lost to thought. Lost to sanity.
Lost to the dream that returned to him every night to torture him.
Kallen woke with a sharp, sneering grasp, the ache in his loins so deep and so acute he thought he might die from it. His fists balled around the sheets, pulling them taut as the sensation slowly faded.
He lay there panting in his carriage bed. The faint light of dawn seeped in through the slats of the windows. The caravan was moving. He had slept through its departure back to the road.
Kallen rose slowly, still feeling the pent up energy between his legs. It had been worse lately. Worse since he'd started the trip, like a wave of anticipation amplifying the sensation. It made him yearn for some ruin to explore or enemy general to assail. The challenge, danger, and strife, they all made the nightly torture not feel so bad.
He glanced out the window and saw that they were nearly clear of the forest; the young smattering of trees slowly tapering out into a wide pastoral land of rolling hills and lush fields. Kallen watched the scenery pass by as they wound their way towards the elven town. As they crested a sloping hill, he could see the town laid out before him.
The settlement was built like a massive amphitheater; a circular indentation dug into the stone rising hill with buildings in and along carved indentation before rising to a hilltop covered in intricate garden structures and wide floral parks. The buildings themselves were tall, slender, and elegant, with large intricate pillars interwoven with the surrounding flora.
It was unlike any settlement found in the northern lands. Ancient. Flawless. Enchanting. And as he looked upon it, he felt something pulling in his mind. Drawing him like metal filings to a magnet.
Come to me, Kallen, the silken voice whispered in his mind.
His eyes went wide. His heart pounded. The voice. The voice from his dreams. He shuddered as the ache between his legs returned; his cock hardened almost instantly. He heard that laughter. That perfect, hypnotizing laughter slowly faded in his mind, leaving him slivering with desire.
Come to me...
Kallen felt like he was going to burst.
As the caravan drew closer to the town, he could hear the music—a gentle lilting melody that seemed to flow from the town itself. It was like nothing he'd found elsewhere, as if the town's very aura seemed to generate the sound. He could hear it; feel it; smell it. The tune was so lovely, so perfect, it made his heart yearn to be among it.
The carts came to a stop, and slowly, merchants disembarked to unload their goods in the marketplace built for trading with the humans at the edge of the settlement. Kallen felt his hands shake as the caravan came to a stop. He stared at them, confused. In his life, he'd faced death and worse more times than he could count. Why was he nervous now?
The dream wouldn't seem to leave him. He sat on the bed and focused until he felt some semblance of normalcy again, then grabbed his sword and stepped out of his carriage into the bustle.
A crowd of elves gathered in anticipation of their arrival. Elves, and a few humans as well—the humans who 'chose' to live in the elf town. Many wore clean, simple clothing, shuffling cargo and merchandise to stalls and shops. There, groups of elves in notably more elegant attire—their tunics and dresses light and thin and flowing like water—casually negotiated prices with the dusty, road-worn merchants.
Humans were often with these elves, and could easily be differentiated from the caravaners by the clothes they wore. They often held the elves' purchases, standing quietly with discrete silver collars tight around their necks.
He watched one elf couple, tall, lithe, and beautiful, playfully pet a human standing between them. The human's clothes were elegant, tailored to show off her ample breasts and shapely hips. More easily missed were the runes running up the back of the girl's neck—complex elven sigils that preserved their the youthful appearance of their pets while also dulling their senses.
Kallen shivered and turned away. He saw the young harlot Cella sitting atop a double stacked crate of herbs, lightly bouncing her leg off her knee.
"Hey there, hero," she said with a wave. "Find what you're looking for?"
He hesitated, then said, "No. What about you? Looking for clients?"
She shook her head. "Just watching the pretty people. The captain said we're not to work while we're embarked. Says it's not safe."
Kallen gave a small nod. "He's right. It's not."
She paused, staring down at him from her spot up on the crate. "Are you all right, hero? You look a bit... off."
Running his hand along his brow, Kallen found he was sweating. "Maybe not," he said.
He felt that magnetic pull again. Drawing him away.
"Hey. Where are you going?"
Kallen had to force himself to stop. He'd begun walking on his own. With a shake of his head, he gave a last look back at her. "I'm going into town."
He saw the look of worry on her face. "Isn't that dangerous, hero?"
"Very much so. But I don't think I have a choice," he said with a sigh. "Stay safe, Cella." She said nothing as he walked past the market, towards the settlement proper, but he felt her eyes on him the entire way.
It was an unreal experience, walking the streets of the elven settlement. Kallen was like a fish out of water; unable to keep his eyes off the buildings—the gardens—the people. It was like he'd stepped into a dream. Everything was so beautiful. So perfect.
Every time I come here. Every time I leave, and nothing has changed. Kallen thought, walking past two elf-women, their taut, lithe bodies almost glistening in the sun, their simple but masterfully made tunics clinging to every curve.
The dream. It came from here. Formed here. He didn't know how, but he knew that even if he were to try with all his might, he'd be unable to turn around.
The music continued to play, like a song from the sky itself.
Kallen, the voice echoed in his mind.
He finally felt like he understood. Someone had done something to him. Some elf thought to muddle his mind with a spell. His hand clenched, itching for his blade.
Is that why I keep coming back here? Have I been trying to break this fucking curse all this time?
Finally, he came to one of the rising buildings, build interwoven with a series of curling trees with feather-like, dangling leaves. His eyes narrowed when he saw it; the heavy wooden door, intricately carved with elven runes.
The door from his dreams. He'd found his way back.
He walked up the steps, and the door opened as he approached. Just inside was a small foyer with curling stairs leading up and into the building. A human woman in a figure hugging tunic and a thin skirt slit up to her waist. Her golden hair was smooth as water; her face was long and delicate. There was something vacant in her eyes, however. Her thin, cord like collar glimmeringin the glowing globes of light illuminating the foyer.
He stared at the woman, but she merely smiled at him. "Good day, sir," she said with a slight bow of her head. "You wish to see the Mistress?"
"Yes," he said, his voice almost a growl. "I think I do." He ascended the spiral staircase, feeling the tug on his mind. Leading him to the source of his tormentor.
At the very top of the stairs sat a landing with one final set of doors. His heart pounded as he pushed them open, unable to believe that after all this time, it was just here.
A strange feeling of nausea fell over him as he stood in the room, like the image from his dreams wanted to melt into what was in front of him. It was the same room. The same shelves. The same wine-red couch.
The same form sitting there. Waiting on him.
"Hello, Kallen," the elf said, her liquid silk voice unmistakable. She sat with her long legs crossed, her long raven hair fell like a river of molten glass to her waist. Her eyes were like glittering amethysts. Her skin was like the purest white marble, contrasted by the bodice of black velvet she wore.
There were three others there, also elves, who sat at her feet around her. They could have been the dark-haired one's children—or her sisters, it was difficult to gauge with elves. All three had hair the color of rich chocolate, the eyes the dark gray of a stormy sky. The dark-haired one whispered something to each of them, and—with only a quick glance his way—they left.
"You," Kallen breathed, his heart pounding as the far door closed behind the elf's three children. "You're the person from my dream."
He felt his mouth curl into a sneer. "Who are you?"
A shadow of a smile played on the elf's full, perfect lips. "Come now, Kallen. As long as I've been inside you, you should know my name."
"I know you only as my tormentor!" he growled.
She laughed, the same one that sent shivers down his spine. "I certainly don't want to think of myself that way." She patted the seat next to her. "Come, Kallen. Let's talk."
Her smile grew. "I'll even answer your questions, should you have them."
Kallen yearned to draw his blade, but he knew better. Elves were extremely quick, and most wielded magic born of their very blood. He would have to be careful. He moved towards her slowly.
The pale-skinned elf patted the cushion beside her, but Kallen remained standing. He remembered the dream. But this memory didn't stop his cock from stiffening and throbbing in his pants.
"Please, Kallen," she said, her voice like honey and wine. "Sit down. I'll explain everything, if you wish."
Kallen couldn't take it anymore; he could see the luscious valley between her breasts; pert, ample, and utterly entrancing. When she reached up gingerly to take his hand, he let her draw him down beside her.
"Why am I here?" he said, feeling that same electric lust from her touch.
"You're here so that I can see you, Kallen," she said, her violet eyes locked on his. "So that I can see how you've grown. See how strong you've become."
"What do you care? I don't know you. You're... you're nothing to me."
She giggled softly, his entire body shaking to her entrancing voice. "Would I live in your dreams were that true? No, Kallen. It's part of our agreement."
"We have no—"
The elf edged next to him, the skin of her leg, her hip, pressing on his. "It's OK. I know you don't remember it. You don't need to."
"Agreement?" Kallen felt paralyzed against the elf's touch, like something had turned off his ability to move, helpless as the elf's hand's ran over his body. It was his dream. His dark dream pulled out into the waking world. "You will tell me," he demanded, his voice shaking.
"Oh, Kallen," she whispered, her had slipping down below his waist, sliding over the thick bulge in his breeches. "Do you really need to know? Wouldn't you rather just... let go? Let go, and enjoy yourself?"
Kallen groaned as the elf's fingers drew an obscene amount of pleasure just from stroking him over the fabric of his breeches. He wanted to do as she suggested. To let go. It's what his dream had trained him to do.
But he didn't. He grabbed the elf's wrist and pulled it away from his throbbing manhood. "No. You'll tell me. You'll tell me what you've done to me."
He expected anger. Expected the elf to weave some spell. Instead, she only murmured her approval. "Mmmm.... Good. It's not just your physical prowess that's grown in the intervening years..."
"Tell me," he hissed.
She opened her palm in a placating manner, and Kallen let go of her wrist. Her violet eyes almost glowed as they looked upon him. "Do you remember when you first came to Grace's End? When you first came to me?"
He tried. He tried as best he could. But there was nothing. "No," Kallen said, looking back at her.
"You were stumbling through the street, leaving a trail of blood. You were neither a man, nor a child, but transitioning from one to the other."
As she spoke, her hands moved to caress him. He meant to move away, but her voice had entranced him. He could only sit and listen while those perfect hands slid over his neck, his back, his chest.
Her hand slipped down between his legs again, and this time, he didn't have the strength to resist. She stroked him like a cat, her soft fingers finding the swollen head of his cock and teasing it playfully with unworldly skill. His cock grew painfully erect, like stone. Like steel.
"Other noble houses found you before I did. They were offering you food. A home. A life." She giggled. "As long as you took their collar."
Kallen shuddered at the thought, imagining himself living collared among the elves. Obeying their every command. Serving their every pleasure.
"I thought that so... pedestrian, though. For someone with such an interesting start. I saw your potential, Kallen. I saw more from you than a placid house pet."
With a pull of his belt-string, his breaches opened and his cock sprang forth into the warm air, eager and ready. The elf cooed her approval, her supple breasts pressing into his side, their nipples growing stiff with her own excitement.
His hips bucked as she stroked his throbbing tip. "Then what... hah... what did you do to me? The dreams... This pull in my mind..."
"Oh, Kallen... so much of strength... of power is just a frame of mind. I saw the inklings of greatness in you, unformed, though they may have been."
Precum beaded on his shaft, and the elf eagerly smeared down his shaft in long, slow strokes.
"You were like a fine piece of wood, Kallen; a block of marble—just waiting to be carved into the most exquisite work of art."
"If you... if you gave me such guidance, such aid, then why do I not—aaah...."
He writhed as she leaned forward and licked the precum from the tip of his shaft. The sensation set off an explosion in Kallen's brain. His hips bucked up, and the elf cooed her pleasure as she accepted his head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before drawing away.
He groaned, his entire body already aching for release. Aching to cum.
"I offered you to give you the things you needed. To infuse them into your mind," she said, her fingers teasing the underside of his cock as she ground her hips into him. He could feel her heat. Feel the wetness between her legs. "Not just to avenge your family... but to take glory for yourself. Greatness..."
He moaned, his body wracked with pleasure. "I don't... don't understand..."
"I gave you bravery. Fearlessness. Tenacity. The drive to become strong. To become powerful. I didn't make you, of course. But I gave you what you needed to make yourself."
Kallen struggled to think through the insane pleasure flowing through him. "You... you changed who I was... You warped my mind!"
"I augmented your mind," she said softly, ran her tongue slowly up his ear. "Just a tweak here. A nudge there. I removed your doubt. Your hesitation. Your uncertainty."
Kallen groaned as she began stroking him again. He jerked and writhed, his fingers digging into the couch. His other hand reached to do the same, but the elf took it and instead guided it towards her own thighs. His fingers found her slick sex, its lips parting like water to accept his delving fingers.
Her hips rocked against his fingers, her own hips moving with a practiced grace that made his cock throb with desire. "I offered you glory and valor, and you accepted it willingly. Enthusiastically."
"Why?" he blurted out, groaning as her hand slowed in time with his rising pleasure, making his whole body shake with need. "Why make me forget, then? For what purpose? Some twisted elven joke?"
"Oh, Kallen. I wouldn't do that to you." As if to stress the point, she increased her speed, making his cock electrify with his rising ecstasy. "I did it so you wouldn't try slip out from our agreement, silly."
"What?" he croaked.
"You wanted revenge. You wanted greatness." She giggled. "And I wanted something more than a pet. I have pets. I wanted someone powerful. Accomplished."
She squeezed his cock, his shaft so slick with his excitement her hand moved as if on ice. "Useful."
He gasped, trying to wrench against her, but with a single nimble movement, she was over him on the couch, her breasts in his face, her slick sex dripping her own excitement onto his cock. "And just like we agreed, when you'd gotten your revenge—as you have—and once you've become the great and powerful hero I saw in side you... then, Kallen, then you become mine."
With that word, she slammed down on his aching member, her molten channel engulfing him with the feel of liquid silk. The pleasure was something beyond sanity. Beyond reason. His mind dissolved into it, becoming an engine of pure lust.
He grabbed her slender hips and rose to meet her downward movements, sliding into her deep and hard, plunging up into her hot pussy until he struck her back walls, eliciting a lustful siren's moan from her lips.
"Oh, yes," she breathed. "Yes. Yes. Yes!"
Kallen thrust his hips up into her, pounding himself into her tight depths. "I burned myself into your dreams, Kallen," she said, her voice quavering with her dark ecstasy. "So that your body never forgets this pussy that it worships." She leaned forward, pressing the soft flesh of her bosom onto his face, drawing a moan from him as the supple softness covered his eyes. "So that you never forget these lovely breasts that control it."
Her words were like a spell; a dark enchantment that filled his mind with a lustful hunger that could never be sated.
"No," he panted as she ground herself against him, her hips rolling in a sensual rhythm. "I would never agree to that. Never agree to having my mind violated like this!"
She laughed, her voice thick and rich and dark as the void. "You... didn't... have to... I offered, and you accepted so quickly... So readily... Everything else I just... added... added... addaaaaah!"
Kallen felt the elf's cunt tighten around his cock as she came—her body spasming with pleasure; her inner walls rippling around him in a way that drove him mad with need. She pressed down hard on him, her breasts squashing against his face, her hips grinding against his as she writhed in pleasure.
"And..." her pleasure drunk voice went on as she continued to fuck. "I put a nice little lock on your mind so that you can only ever cum if I... say... so...!" With each last word, she rose and slammed down upon him.
The words hit like a blow; the truth of them hitting him like a hammer. His body shuddered with pleasure—his cock throbbing wildly in her tight depths—but his mind was a roiling storm of confusion.
"Why?" he cried out, the maddening ache, the unholy yearning inside him all the more unbearable. "Why?"
The elf sorceress giggled, rolling her hips back and forth, grinding down on his cock. "To train your mind, of course." She leaned forward, kissing him. "You spend your waking hours training your body, earning glory. Building your strength." She kissed him again; her tongue probing into his mouth like a serpent. "And in your dreams, my magic slowly twists your mind so that you crave me. Worships me. That you yearn to obey with every fiber of your being."
"No!" he cried out—the pain of his denial mingling with the pleasure of her body. "You can't do this! You can't!"
She laughed, slowing her movements till she was still. "Oh? I suppose I could always let you go..."
He groaned as as his aching cock screamed for attention. For release. Looking up, the elf's grin was evil as sin. "But I'm afraid there's nothing to be done for the changes I've made to your mind... I'm afraid your poor body is just never going to be able to cum without my..." she pushed her hips forward, kissing the tip of his cock with her cervix, "express permission..."
Kallen's mind filled with despair, the ungodly need in him rising to levels he never knew possible. He moaned as she rose off of him, leaving him feeling utterly empty inside. He looked up at her, his anger building, his hands balling into fists.
She stepped back to look down on him, her pussy glistening with her obscene pleasure. She cocked her head, a leering smile on her face, her raven hair clinging to her sweat-slick body. "Something on your mind, Kallen?"
He shook with an unearthly anger, and with all the strength he had tore himself from whatever control she had over him that kept him still. With a roar born of rage and frustration, of utter indignation, he leaped from the couch and charged at her. "I won't let you control me! No one controls me!"
Kallen reached up and drew out his sword, a pitch black blade whose surface glistened with a wet sheen. It was a material of the ancients, before humans fell to the world in their now broken void ships. Before even the elves came through their great portals.
"You've used me. Tortured me. Warped me. It ends here. You end here."
He charged at her, rage fueling his movements.
Had Kallen been calmer. Had he been stable of mind, he would have known the folly of his actions. Of letting his anger drive him. Make him sloppy. He swung his blade at her, only to come to an instant stop when she danced aside, caught his wrist and, with far more strength than her slender form should allow, flipped his sturdy frame to smash upon the ground.
The pain was considerable, but Kallen had felt worse, he rose, fury in his eyes, but as he reached for the accursed elf, said a single word and made a smooth, twisting motion of her wrist, and Kallen fell immediately to the ground, bands of glowing energy binding his wrists and ankles.
She tutted softly, kneeling down over his prone form. He strained against his bonds, trying to reach up for her throat, but she sidestepped, planting her foot down hard on his wrists, pinning them to the floor above his head.
Gingerly, she reached down and plucked up the liquid ebony blade. "I gave you this, you know," she said lightly. "The second time you came to me. More than a reward. It was a gift, Kallen. Of my affection for you. I knew you would put it to such good use, and you didn't disappoint me."
She let the blade fall, its edge sinking deep into the floor a few inches from Kallen's head. He saw the black ice spreading out from the puncture, and he desperately tried to draw away from it, lest it boil away his skin like he'd seen it do to so many men and monsters that he had lost count.
"Oh, Kallen," she cooed, dragging him a safe distance before kneeling down on him. "Don't worry. I'm not mad at you." Her face drew next to his, her nose lightly sliding across his. "I won't even punish you. It has to be difficult learning your entire life has been one long training session to be my perfect, obedient servant."
"I'll never serve you!" he swore up at her, spittle rising from his reddened face.
"I know it's difficult to imagine right now," she murmured as slipped over to straddle him, still easily holding him down with one hand. "But that's because you're not done yet."
He bucked up, trying to throw her off, but she rode him as easily as she would ride a horse; her hips grinding against his, her legs straddling his waist.
"But, you know... I think if we adjust things just a bit, everything will be so much easier," she said, and with her free hand, traced a rune across his forehead. He felt the lines burning into his flesh, and when she finished—when the rune was complete—he felt his entire brain erupt.
Kallen howled with pain, his mind burning. He thrashed and writhed; the elf smoothly shifting with each movement. "I know it doesn't feel good," she cooed. "But you'll feel so much better when we're done. Just a little shift here... an extra connection there..."
But all Kell felt was the fire. Burning. Searing. Scorching lines through his mind. He felt sure the elf was killing him. Ending him as some cruel punchline to the farce she had committed upon him.
Then, suddenly, like the extinguishing of a candle, the pain was gone. Kellen let out a surprised, shuddering gasp, blinking rapidly as spots rose in and out of his vision.
"Better?" she said softly.
He sneered up at her. "It doesn't matter what you do to me," he growled. "Torture me. Kill me. I'll never serve you. I'll never—aaah, aaaaah.....!"
Kellen's voice devolved to a low moan as the elf, smiling serenely, slid her hips back and slowly sank her silky cunt down on his still-turgid manhood. The experience flowing down from his shaft wasn't pleasure anymore. It had become something else. Something darker. Something more intense than he ever thought possible.
His vision flashed white as his voice failed. The intensity of the ecstasy was such that his entire brain overloaded with it.
The blinding flashes continued as she slid, inch by inch, down his cock. "I went ahead and tripled the amount of pleasure your body can feel in relation to me." She stopped mid-descent, slowly rising and falling up and down his shaft as she put tapped her chin. "Or was it sextuple? I wasn't paying that close attention. I might have just rose it to the absolute maximum of what your human nervous system could transmit..."
He tried to speak. To beg her to stop, but nothing in his body worked. It felt like his entire existence was his cock, and that he was melting into her hot, molten pussy, utterly subsumed by her will.
She caressed his face. "Now don't worry, your mind will adjust momentarily. You don't think I'd make you this sensitive and leave you unable to endure it, did you?" Her pert tits bouncing as she rose and fell with increased speed. "How could you serve me then, if I did something awful like that to you?"
And slowly, as the unbearable intensity of it all ebbed away, it was only then that he understood she was right. Understood, and despaired.
With shaking eyes, he watched her wet slit slide up and down his shaft. The pleasure flowing down from his cock was of a kind he never knew possible. It was more than bliss. More than ecstasy. A pleasure so intense it fell into the realm of the obscene.
No, no, no, no... his thoughts ran, even as he felt them dissolving. Reforming. Realigning to the new need in his body. A need as powerful as thirst. As demanding as the drive to breathe.
I would serve for this feeling, his mind said, because it was true. I would die for it. I would kill for it.
His voice was cracked and hoarse as it rose from his lips. "So good... so good... by the gods, it's so goood...."
"No, Kallen," she giggled, sinking down, taking all of him inside her and grinding back and forth on him. "By me, is it so good."
His eyes rolled back, his hands came forward, unbound, to take her hips, to help her ride him. To support her as she fucked him exactly as she wished. His lips parted, his voice rose.
Mistress, he thought.
"Goddess," he said.
"There we are," she said, looking down at him with a wicked smile. "See, Kallen, you did know my name." Her hands slid up his chest, drawing an unholy pleasure from his flesh that he never thought possible.
"Now, tell me Kallen," she said. "Why do we strive? We do we grow?"
"To feel your flesh on my cock, Goddess."
"Then why do we fuck?"
"So the body knows to obey without question, Goddess."
"And why do we cum?"
"To worship. To show how complete my devotion is. To know how much you love me, Goddess."
"Gooood boy," she crooned.
She slowly rode him like that for hours. She fucked him, fucked him till there was nothing left in him but complete and utter obedience. He felt her love. Felt it flowing down into him with each thrust of her hips. Felt it in the heat of her flesh. In the wetness of her thighs. In the warmth of her breath. In the sweet smell of her pussy. He felt it in his very soul. A soul that was no longer belonged to him.
"Now, Kallen," she said, after an eternity in the dark heaven her pussy sent him to. "I'm going to let you cum. And when you do, you're going to forget all of this. You'll forget it all and return to your little convoy. You still have more you must accomplish before you're ready to stay by my side."
His protest was soft. Weak. "Please, Goddess. No," he whispered. "I can't forget this. I can't lose it. I can't live without it."
Her soft, wet lips fell into a sympathetic pout. "Oh, I know you can't, Kallen. And you won't. I'm always with you now. Right here," she tapped on his forehead with her long, slender finger. "Your human dreams no longer exist. To dream, Kallen, is to exist in my power. To swim in my will. In your dreams, you will worship. You will learn. You will train. And with each night, you thoughts will slowly become inseparable from mine. Each night will be one more step towards becoming a pure instrument of my will."
She smiled as she ground into his cock. It was a smile of dark triumph. Of twisted joy. "And you will never know it. Not until I call you back. When you are perfect. And strong. And powerful. All just for me."
"Yes, Goddess," he said, his heart swelling. He could feel his old self deep inside his mind. Screaming, raging, trying to wrest back control. Control would soon return to that part of him, he knew.
But with an almost beatific joy, he understood that this version of him—his true, perfect self—would settle into his dreams. And there, he would slowly supplant his old self. Dream, after dream, after dream.
Just as he had done every night since his first bargain with the Goddess. Slowly shaping himself into her perfect servant. Her gift was so strong now. So empowering. She would be impossible to resist now. The need—the unholy pleasure—from his cock would be too great.
He would finally become his true self. A perfect tool. A perfect slave.
His body shook like a leaf as she slowly rose off him, her glistening slit dripping as she rose. "It's time, Kallen. Are you ready?"
She kneeled on her knees beside him, leaning down to take his large, throbbing member—his tool to worship her—in her hand. She held it gently. Lovingly.
And then slowly, starting from the base of his cock, she ran her tongue up the length of its underside. Her amethyst eyes locked on his as she did. Those burning green eyes that would be with him every night until he returned to her side.
At the top, she sucked on his tip, her tongue teasing it back and forth. Once, twice. And then it was done.
His entire body seemed to contract. So many years of pent up energy, desire, and lust—all of it rushing down to his cock.
She stroked his cock slowly as it began, a violent spasm of his shaft, so hard it hurt. Hurt like heaven. His balls contracted, and his cock erupted gout after gout of his hot, sticky seed. She held it so that it spilled across her face. Across her breasts. After three thick ropes of it painted her, she slid her mouth down on it to swallow the remaining dozen or so spurts.
Kallen was gone by then. Completely empty. Completely hollow. A wide, contented smile on his face.
That evening, the trade caravan loaded up the goods they had exchanged and made the final preparations to leave. It was standard procedure to travel a ways away from the settlement before settling down for the night—it was never a good idea to stay in extended proximity to the elves and the ensorcelling music that rose from their settlement.
Kallen stood near his carriage, his sword on his back, waiting for his driver to make the final preparations. He felt... strange. Almost as though he was not really there. He didn't understand the thought, but there it was.
It was of little meaning. He'd had such thoughts before. Usually, it was simply a sign that it was time to get back to what he was good at. This side-dalliance was a pleasant enough break from things, but the world was waiting for him out there. There was power to be earned. Glory to be claimed.
"Say, hero," came a voice from behind. He looked back to see Cella standing near him. "I'd heard that you made it back from the city. Did you find what you were looking for?"
He considered her words. Had he? Nothing notable happened on his expedition inside the elven settlement. But that wasn't new. It had been like that every single time he'd made the long trip to Grace's End.
And yet, he still felt better, somehow. Like things made more sense. Like his purpose had returned. "Maybe," he settled on. "Who's to say?"
She arched a brow, but didn't push. "Whatever the case, I'm glad you got back alright," she said with a smile.
He returned the smile, watching the pretty young woman turn to leave. It was then he saw her tight little ass that the thought occurred to him.
"Cella," he called after her.
She looked back. "Yes?"
"Your offer. Is it still on the table?"
"What? You mean... Oh." a smile spread on her face. "Of course, hero."
"Good," he said, and tossed her a pouch of coins. It jingled when it landed in her hands. "And I'd like you for the rest of the trip as well," he said evenly. "I think I could use the company for the trip back to the Freelands."
With two fingers, she opened the couch to look at the coins inside and let out a surprised laugh. "Oh. Yeah, hero." She looked up at him, her eyes glinting with eager anticipation. "I think this will work just fine."
That night, with a naked and thoroughly well fucked Cella draped over his chest, Kallen fell into dream, the same dream he had always had, as far back as he could remember.
He was in that warm, open room with the curved wooden walls. The sanctum of his Goddess. He dropped to his knees and crawled to where she was waiting. His Goddess, her perfect, lithe body standing naked and pale and beautiful beyond imagining. Her violet eyes were like amethyst suns. Her skin was like the finest silk, her long raven hair was like the darkness of the void itself.
She smiled down at him. Kind. Loving. Beatific. It made him ache to see. He wanted her. He worshiped her. Belonged to her.
"Why have you come, Kallen?" she said, softly.
"To give myself to you, Goddess. One piece at a time."
Her full, wet lips drew into a gentle smile. "Show me."
He did. Sitting up, his cock rose, hard and obedient and worshipful. She took it in her hand—her delicate fingers like velvet wrapped around his hardness. Her eyes locked onto his as she did. Her gaze searing him like a holy brand.
"You are mine," she said, stroking him slowly.
"Yes, Goddess." he said, his voice trembling. "I am yours." He moaned as she stroked him harder, faster. He wanted to cum so badly. Wanted it so badly. But that was the point.
As she lowered her head, her supple lips sliding down his engorged member, his brain quickly descended into a near-alien ecstasy. His cock slid up into her mouth; into her throat, until Kallen's mind became unmoored, and all control left him.
And for an eternity in that dream place, Kallen sat, utterly empty, as his Goddess sucked his cock. Slowly, bit by bit, what remained of the person he once was—the person who had once bargained his mind away for glory and valor and power—melted away. This night. And the next night. And the next.
On, and on, and on, and on. Until he was perfect for her.