Barbarian Legends Ch. 04

Authors' note: This chapter is set shortly after the events of Chapter 2. While it's not strictly necessary to read Ch. 2 first, you should of course enjoy all of Valda's adventures! Also, we're sorry it took so long! Obviously this is a monster of a chapter-the longest you're going to see for some time.

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The Maratou. A beautiful race of demihumans from the virtually unknown island of Mara, these people, who still had a few dinosaur-like traits compared to humans from the mainlands, were unparalleled in beauty and power, at least as a group. They were a unique people, with a unique, matriarchal civilization to match. Particularly unique was the degree of casualness with which they treated sexual relations, their society placing none of the usual taboos on sex without commitment. Central to engraining this liberated attitude was an annual ritual in which their young adults were welcomed into their culture of casual and friendly intercourse. The ritual itself centered around deflowering the youths, and afterwards welcoming them to adulthood with a village-wide orgy. It was culturally significant fun and every year, the village invited outsiders to usher in the younger generations as "coaches" of sorts, easing the youngsters into casual sex by providing beautiful, experienced strangers who would pop their cherries and leave without anyone getting too attached.

That was why Valda was here. The islanders had somehow caught wind of her sexual prowess (the barbarian was unaware of it, but she was starting to become a bit of a folk legend-and not for her skills as a warrior as she would like). And after experiencing her firsthand, the village elders had invited her back every year since, making her the only outsider she knew of that had been invited more than once. Every time, she absolutely hated the period of celibacy required of her before the ritual orgy, especially since the aphrodisiac fruit their culture used in practically every part of their lives made her even more insatiably horny than usual. This year, she'd gotten to cheat a little when she came across a couple of mermaids, but it hadn't sated her lust like it usually would, thanks both to her knowledge of things to come and the inescapable fruit. The Love Fruit of Mara smelled incredibly strong as it sat in bins throughout the village, and Valda couldn't remember the last meal she'd had without it as an ingredient. The only thing keeping her coming back and suffering through this sexual fasting was the physiques, stamina, and general debauchery of the villagers, who never failed to deliver an unforgettable night of passion, totally eclipsing the period of celibacy and making every trip absolutely worth it. Still, she always regretted coming with every fiber of her being until that night came.

Tonight was the night. Any moment could have been the one where Valda heard a knock summoning her to the ceremony. But it still wasn't soon enough. The barbarian had been driven completely mad. Quiet, muffled moans escaped her lips as she sat masturbating in the dark corner of the room, working her starved, wet pussy with two quick fingers. She had done her best to resist the urge, but the air was heavy with the juices of the fruit, and she just had too much passion and not enough willpower to resist. She was getting so close to orgasm, but it just wouldn't come, making her flushed face scrunch up in fury until she was interrupted with a knock at the door.

"Lady Valda?" A low, feminine voice sounded from the other side of the door before it opened anyway.

The owner of the voice was taller than the barbarian, with obvious muscle and even more obvious endowments just barely wrapped up in a cloth and short skirt. Like all other Maratou, her hair had a strange, rock-like texture, which she wore braided into something like thick dreadlocks, all tied back into a ponytail. Her slitted red eyes were framed with darker skin than the rest of her body which was a dark, exotic purple and bony protrusions took the place of eyebrows. She had rough skin in extremities like her shoulders and forearms, which ended in large, strong, clawed hands that paled in comparison to her feet, which like other Maratou, had three toes, two in front, one at her heel. Looking back, it was a testament to their coordination and skill that Valda had never gotten a scratched.

Valda leapt up, her loincloth falling into place, attempting to hide her arousal. It didn't work, but the Maratou were used to foreigners having trouble waiting for the festivities. She simply smiled and went on, "We're ready for you, if you'd follow me."

She led Valda out to a busy room that served as a sort of backstage area. They were in the town's great hall, which although it was the most impressive building in the village, was not quite as imposing as the name suggested. There was one large room with several smaller rooms, all dimly lit due to the danger of setting the entire primitive building on fire. The large room had space in the front for a sort of stage, simply behind the corner from the one Valda currently found herself in. The inner walls were made out of a sort of exotically colored bamboo while the outer walls were made of a sturdier tree. The floors were mats made out of the same bamboo as the walls, carved down until they could be laid out in soft palettes and a little bouncy underfoot.

As she strode into the backstage area Valda was greeted by about seven more villagers armed with paints and other tools meant for grooming. Also present were three other non-natives, two idly chatting women and a large man who radiated quiet intelligence. That was Kel, a large orc who had been invited for his physicality as well as, Valda noticed, his impressive endowment. Kel had the trademark dark skin of the orcs as well as their pointed ears, fangs in his lower jaw, and very short hair on his head. She'd spoken little to him, as he'd spent so much time taking care of the youths he was responsible for, as well as meditating in private to help quell his urges. Unfortunately he was quite the survivalist-once or twice Valda had tried to go "meditate" with him to deal with her own urges, however once he went into the forest it was almost impossible to find him. At any rate, his patience was impressive, especially after being raised in orcish culture, but all of those invited were special cases.

Next to Kel was a half-dragon woman named Deanna (Valda didn't know the story behind that despite desperately wanting to). She was similar to Kel in size, but also boasted impressive wings, claws, fangs, and a tail, all of which were a deep, bold red in contrast to the tan of her mostly human skin (an orange-red scale or two could still be seen here and there). She was invited due to her physical similarities to the Maratou, not least of which were her feminine curves. Her eyes, brown slits, peered back at the villagers as they readied her for the festivities, braiding her red hair into a style similar to that of the villagers. Valda had spoken with her a few times and she was nice enough, if not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Between Deanna and Valda was a drow. This drow, while tall for a woman, was shorter and less busty than Valda. On the other hand, her muscles were more clearly defined-in fact, to say she was cut would be an understatement. Her dark skin was covered in scars from numerous battles, even her feminine chest bore the marks of war. Her curves, while not as big as the amazon or the dragon lady's, were impressive given how muscular she was and her short hair and longer-than-average fangs made her look rougher than the average drow despite her fertile hips.

Valda had been shocked to see Grey when she arrived, as she actually already knew the drow. But that turned out to be why the drow had been invited. Through secret magics, the villagers' had seen the drow warrior in bed with Valda and they were impressed at her stamina, although the barbarian had won out that particular contest in the end. Her name was Grey, and unlike everyone else, she wasn't here to appreciate the delights of the village. That night with Valda had stuck with her, and as she secretly relived it through daydreams and lonely fantasies, had grown into an obsession. Unbeknownst to Valda, who would have been quite turned off by the prospect, Grey had come here with one thing in mind: rocking the barbarian's world so hard the amazon would become as fixated on her as the drow was on Valda. Grey wasn't sure what would happen after that, but she wanted it more than anything.

The short haired drow, her ear-length hair having already been braided as much as it could, perked up at the sight of Valda. The villagers didn't have to paint her skin any darker and her muscle definition was, by their standards, perfect, so all they really had to do with her was decoration, painting her face to more resemble the specific features of the Maratou and drawing a pattern down her back that drew attention to her shapely rear. She was nearly done, and one of the village elders stood by waiting patiently to deliver her back to her charges.

"Hey, Valda." Grey said with a smile, showing off her gleaming fangs.

Valda nodded, eyes wandering hungrily over the drow's familiar body. Grey noticed and a proud smile covered her lips as the last of her paint was laid on. Meanwhile, some of the other villagers positioned Valda so that they could start painting her. While she was obviously a specimen, Valda had a little more fat over her muscles than Grey, and lacked the draconian features the Maratou saw in Deanna. In short: while a beauty, Valda needed the most work to perfectly match local tastes. The art that the Maratou were painting on Valda's skin brought more attention to the musculature underneath her prodigious curves, whereas the art on Grey did the opposite.

"So," Grey spoke again, "Where's your pink friend?"

One villager was busy painting lines on Valda's stomach to show her abs while the other was taking sections of her hair to braid it. The former looked up annoyed as Valda chuckled lightly at the thought of her best friend Corella-if the tiefling were here, she'd have required more supervision than any of their charges had.

"Causing trouble back on the continent somewhere," Valda said. If there was one blanket statement she could make about the tiefling, it was that.

"I see." Grey said, not seeming to care particular about Valda's answer, just that the tiefling was not here.

The villagers that had been painting Grey stood, looking over their handiwork. The paint on Grey's face made her more resemble the Maratou, but also showed off her specific features, painting her scars a lighter teal color to show them off. Her short hair was braided in sections, but wasn't long enough to tie back into a ponytail like the villagers, so it was left hanging, a definite contrast to how she usually wore it which was a very butch, spiky style.

"Alright, we've finished preparing you, Miss Grey," said a young woman with orange colored eyes and relatively soft looking skin for a Maratou.

"Right this way, they're ready for you," said the more chiseled elder before leading the drow to her room.

Before she left, the drow looked back to wave flirtatiously at Valda, but the barbarian was looking away with a dazed expression. Grey opened her mouth to say something, but was ushered on by the elder.

If the moisture between Valda's legs was any indication, the topic of her daydream was somewhat obvious. There were two villagers braiding her long, dark locks while another painted her way down her toned stomach, coming down to her hips and finally noticing the wetness.

The Maratou giggled, showing her slightly sharp teeth. "Looking forward to this?" She asked.

Valda was distracted with her own thoughts, "What was that?" She asked, looking down.

The villager caught Valda's gaze before looking down at her glistening womanhood again and looking back up, "Having a hard time waiting?"

"Yeah, well..." Valda said, clearing her throat as she looked away. "Aren't you?"

The Maratou gave a knowing chuckle as she continued to paint Valda, working down to her legs, mainly just painting them darker until she got to her shins and calves, where she started adding patterns that reminded one faintly of the taloned feet the villagers had. After that she came up to Valda's chest, looking up to Valda's face before looking back down with a mischievous smirk.

The villager dipped her fingers into the jars of paint again and started applying a slightly lighter shade meant to accent Valda's breasts, although it was still darker than the barbarian's normal skin. The woman seemed to take glee in her art as she rubbed Valda's breasts until they were all but covered in the paint save for her pink nipples, hard from the daydreaming and sensuous painting. Next, the woman got another jar with an even lighter shade and dipped two fingers into it, bringing the paint-soaked digits to Valda's hard nipple, rubbing it in more than a little suggestively before blowing it dry, giggling softly as Valda fluttered her eyelashes and gently bit her lip at the teasing.

The barbarian shot the villager a look and the Maratou shrugged back. Having had her fun, she went around to move behind Valda and do her back, taking a special interest in painting the barbarian's shapely rear. Meanwhile, one that had been braiding her hair came back around and began applying special paint to Valda's face, accentuating her eyes while still giving her the features her people liked most. She added reds and oranges around Valda's eyes to make up for her lack of warm color in her irises and painted her lips a bright red as well. Her eyebrows and cheekbones were given extra edges and painted to look like they extended. All in all, Valda looked quite exotic by the time they were done, as head-turning a sight there ever was.

"Alright, that should be it." The one who'd braided Valda's hair said, "Your charges should be ready, what about you?" She asked the barbarian. Although she was meant to bring Valda to her charges, she seemed just a little remiss of the idea. Probably because the night's events were destined to smudge and smear all her hard work beyond recognition. And maybe a little because she didn't want Valda to leave.

"Yeah, I'm ready." Valda said with a bit of an impatient edge. It was about time to get to the good stuff.

The villager led Valda down the hallway in relative silence, passing by a door to a room filled with grunting and the moaning of a certain drow, interrupted every so often with a militant order to go faster and harder. Judging from how many must have been in there, it seemed as though Grey had gotten more virile young men than the barbarian herself was used to this year. Valda could certainly outlast and even outfuck Grey, but she didn't have any sort of fetish for the hard, fast way that the drow liked it, at least not to the exclusion of other kinds of sex like the drow did. Grey liked to be fucked long and hard until she passed out, no need for foreplay, just getting down to brass tacks and getting what she wanted. The men in her room, around five of of the Maratou, were picked for their strength and stamina, but Valda couldn't help but feel sorry for them, their entrance into sexual adulthood would be rough and uncompromising.

Finally they came to where Valda's charges were waiting. The Maratou opened it for the barbarian and she stepped in, greeted in polite unison by her charges, three boys and two girls, all magnificently beautiful, better endowed and in the elders' opinion holding more potential than the other groups. Since their abilities laid in their potential as lovers and not in their physical shape like Grey's charges, the tribe had trusted Valda's skill in the lustful arts to give them a taste of what the future could be like if they really wanted it. The liberated sexuality of the Maratou made the decadence and finesse of people like Valda precious to them and every year, they tried to plant the seeds of more like her within their own ranks.

Sitting cheerfully among Valda's charges was the chief of the village, a woman hundreds of years old, but with looks no older than Valda herself. This was Ke'shonda, chief organizer of the festival. She looked up at Valda with a warm smile. She was here to look after Valda's charges while she was being prepared, and had struck up some conversation to soothe their anxious, hormone-tortured nerves. Ke'shonda had that sort of charm, she was wise and intelligent, warm and social-but also stubborn and ambitious.

She waved to the barbarian, "Why, hello Valda!" She said cheerily, standing up to reveal that she was wearing even less than the barbarian herself, who was only wearing paint. She participated in the festival every year as well and was clearly ready for it. "It looks like you're ready. They really did a good job on you this year, you look great. Well," She said, casting a glance downwards as she looked over Valda's body, "It looks like I might just be in your way, so I'll leave you to it."

The Maratou leader stepped towards the door. She cut a rather imposing figure-she was the boss for a reason, after all- with robust muscles, bombastic curves, and not to mention, a full head of height over the barbarian. Valda wouldn't want to meet her in a dark alley unless it was to share the privacy.

Ke'shonda leaned in close to Valda's ear as she passed, stopping briefly to whisper a warning, "I'm going to outlast you this year, I promise." Valda shot her a confident look as if to say "Bring it on!" before she passed through the door, ass swaying with an arrogant swagger.

The anxious youths were all wearing simple robes, short and easy to take off. Valda looked these clothes over in contempt like she did every year, a useless barrier that symbolized their immaturity, their only use to be cast off in favor of sexual liberation. "Alright, take them off." Valda said with authority.

The Maratou in the room looked to one another even more nervously, especially the guys as their gaze lingered awkwardly on the girls in their group. The first to disrobe was one of the the two girls, a somewhat tall and leggy young Maratou around the same height as Valda. She was followed closely by one of the guys and in short order, they were all naked, bountiful breasts and rock-hard abs exposed to the air, along with three deliciously large cocks. Everyone was standing at attention, so to speak, as Valda walked over and inspected them. She'd seen them naked before, but only as a result of shared living quarters, and it had sadly been her job to make sure nothing ever came of them being nude. It had been a tough few weeks, she thought, licking her painted lips.

Seriously, this year's crop of young villagers sent to Valda were even better than usual. Their features were perfect, their endowments unreal, but then again, that's why Valda loved coming back here, the line that showed what was unrealistic was somewhere else entirely. Valda was a little more touchy-feely than she usually was off the island and this was made clear as her fingers danced over the skin of each villager that she passed by, each exquisitely soft or hard exactly where they needed to be.

The last one to disrobe was a young lady by the name of Da'kiya, she'd been nervous and had done so slowly, almost sheepishly. Valda decided to start with her. "Come here," Valda said softly, but with an edge of desire.

The Maratou timidly stepped forth and Valda brought her over to a soft mat, laying her down smoothly with one hand on her hip and the other on her shoulder. Her dark cheeks were flushed even darker as she lay bare to the group with all eyes on her. Da'kiya looked up to Valda with frightened eyes, but Valda returned her gaze with gentleness... and lust. The barbarian kneeled over Da'kiya, straddling her waist, but not sitting down. The smaller Maratou still looked afraid, but soon Valda spoke and the attention was back on her, if only for a moment.