Chronicles of a Drow Templar Ch. 01

A click around one of Æiristus' wrists got her attention and green eyes snapped open. Weight dropped in from above as a forearm sought its way to her neck. Her free hand clawed upward latching onto a face, holding much of the aggressor off of her throat.

Unable to get the other manacle locked on to that living marble arm of hers, Baravti winced into the tightening fingers of her hand and sent his other hand snaking its way beneath the woman's armored skirt tearing out her leather breachcloth and smallclothes followed by a knee pushing its way between her thighs forcing her legs open.

"Not gonna work!" Æiristus growled twisting and bucking beneath the determined male.

"Only way you're taking me back is as your mate!"

Æiristus' teeth grit. She should have tied his feet together and put the shackles behind his back! Damn House prince!

She stiffened, feeling her head go back reflexively. Fighting the low gurgle building from the back of her throat she urged her head back up, little by little, focusing her gaze on the standing veins of the back of her hand rather than let her eyes roll to the back of her head in acquiescence. No! You do not!

A hand clasped her beneath her skirt, reaching within her and without at the same time. It became everything she could to not to relax, to reach for more. Her shoulders fought to curl in warming to the intoxication, not unlike warming to strong alcohol in the blood. An unexpected need, a near blinding firestorm, blazed its way from the male's touch to her scalp into her mind. Every nerve ending surged with life. Her braid grew heavy, it needed to be loosened, what hair was loose tickled her skin where it kissed her. Her hips shuddered with the flood of warmth summoned by his hand. Kicking worsened it.

"Stop! Stop it now!"

Baravti grinned into her palm. Nails cut into his face, dug into his forehead, scraping down. Was that sweat or blood? He drove his head forward into the onslaught, draining her strength, meeting her power, exerting shivers down her arm. He couldn't see much of her. But her response! Holding her down wasn't quite as difficult as a moment ago. Her hand on his face wasn't quite as firm. Just the touch of his finger on the underside of her pleasure center as she squirmed eased the dampness forward. Her strong spirit was going to make claiming her as mate a delight.

The forearm on Æiristus' throat pressed deeper. It was hard to breathe. A thumb joined the finger, rotating, gently coaxing her into a more receptive state. Primal urges and her call to duty conflicted. Her arm shook. Her other arm was pinned somehow. Leverage was against her. Emotions and craving vied for dominance inside her. She knew the man's intent as he worked to get her body to betray her.

A masculine chuckle sounded above her, one pleased with himself. The finger slid deeper inside her seeking more of her secrets, draining her strength, making her shiver, convincing her body to relax. He danced on provoking her feminine 'kill' instinct. She had to control that and make sure he didn't win. He couldn't win! It was a strain to hold her head up. "No," she groaned.

Her hand fell away from his face. Such weakness he was causing with just a touch! Most females took much more work than this. This one was hungry. One finger became two as he dipped into her warm, creamy folds. Her continued "No"s contradicted her responses.

His fingertips touched on a barrier buried inside. His eyes widened. He grew painfully thick.

"By Vhaeraun! A virgin!"

The distraction was all she needed.

Renewed energy flooded her. Æiristus slammed her fisted free hand into the side of the House prince's head bodily dislodging him from her. The prince rolled onto the cold fire pit. Pain speared his back from the jagged stones beneath him. Pain wracked his head from her unexpected blow backed up by her steel vambrace. Looking up, he saw the templar on her feet staring him down. Her eyes burned brilliant red in absolute loathing and fury. "Vhaeraun!" she roared. "You dare utter a false god in the presence of Lolth's representative!"

She swooped down, her curved sword materialized in her hand. "Where is your false god to help you now, og'elend?"

The sword whooshed before her making Baravti panic and roll away. He was on his feet, woozy from the blow to his head. He bleed where she hit him. He jumped back from another swing of her sword. There was no place to run in the small cave!

"Is that how you committed sedition upon your own House?" the virago snarled. "Is that how you entered the beds of your House's women and then killed them? Did you take the lives of the lytling females as well, before their chance at life? Is this then the sweetness of corruption that Lolth will feast upon when your twisted soul is presented to Her Handmaidens in ceremony? Is this what you had to offer by fleeing to the Surface World?"

The woman was mad! She swung her sword at him again and again, a murderous glee in her glowing red eyes.

"Y-you want me dead now? I-is that it?" Baravti backed up against the cave wall, inching upwards.

Æiristus grinned; the corner of her mouth crept high on the left side. The lopsidedness of it with her purpling scar and fiery eyes sent a rending shiver from the back of the prince's neck to his heels.

"You are not very good at this, are you?" She sheathed her sword. Her eyes began to cool, their brilliance dimming from bright red, toning down to a low sanguine burn, until they lost their glow and were back to green. She dug a key from her pocket and unlocked the dangling manacle from her wrist.

"It was an act?" Baravti demanded.

"No, I was asleep. You were rude. And, you are going back."

Baravti's eyes began a burn of their own, building very quickly from magenta to red. While the templar unlocked her manacle he drew in a quick breath and rushed her.

Æiristus heard the prince, ignoring him until the last moment, pivoted and slammed her armored forearm into his face. Baravti's feet flew up from under him as he fell to the cave floor. His head rang with the impact of black steel vambrace into his face and rock floor to the back of his skull. The templar stepped casually away from the fallen man.

"Second time this eve you tasted this thing. Let me know when you have had enough," she flouted.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"This is my favorite place. It provides an outlet for you and others like you to vent your energies."

Baravti lay on the floor where he landed, holding his smarting head with a hand, and twisted his neck so he could see her. "You are indeed cruel."

An arched, black latticed metal munnion lifted with a shoulder as she shrugged. "Not everyone chooses to torment themselves as you. Many are well-behaved and accept a quiet eve with a palatable meal and a chance to rest knowing no prize hunter or assassin will take their turn on them in here. It is safe," she told him. "Of those who thought to be my suitors, you almost became death number eight. Count yourself lucky." She thought about her words, this one was on his way to tortuous death, "Or not. But, know this, try again and I will injure you. You are going back alive to serve penance. And I will be without a lifemate."

"I hate you."

She smiled. "As it should be. Get up."

Baravti, head still ringing, faltered to his feet.

"Turn around. Hands behind your back."

He groaned as he felt the metal cuffs snap around his wrists. "How am I supposed to rest with these on like this now?"

"Your problem, not mine. Over there." She pointed to his original spot in the cave, then she sat down where her place was. "You see, you were naughty and I now have a little problem of my own to work out."

"What do you mean?"

She leaned back on her travel pack and lifted her leather and chain battle skirt. Her panties long gone having been ripped away from her. She might find them later, she might not.

"Oh no! You're not…" He kicked at the cinders.

"Do not mind me. You started this. I hate going to sleep all frustrated." She unbuckled and slid off her vambraces and set them aside.

The night-dark female stretched one athletic, booted leg out before her. The metal spur at her heel rang softly against stone dragged beneath it. She brought the other leg up, bending it at the knee. A small valance formed of her armored skirt between her opened thighs. She focused her gaze at the cave floor just slightly away as, with painful slowness, she traced the inner flesh of her upraised thigh from the knee in. Air hissed lightly through red-violet lips and white teeth as she leisurely inched her way toward more delicate treasures.

A barely audible whimper across the room urged her mouth into a smirk.

Bringing one hand to her mouth, Æiristus drew her tongue lazily along the flat of her fingers. Her eyes hooded, she focused on herself. Her silver bangs drifted low over her forehead and wisped softly along the sides of her face framing the darkness within. She reached around bringing her braid forward to let it drape across her thigh. Her hair was silken on her skin.

She heard a foot across the room scoot in frustration as she brought her hand down to her bare feminine mound, eased it across the smooth ebony surface spreading her fingers around the tip of her just peeking ruby clitoris. Her hand arched forward, following the curve of female pubic bone, sending her dark fingers into inky lips, opening the soft pillows seeking the deeper lush red-violet inner petal folds that matched in hue to the lips murmuring pleasantly and shaping an "O" on her face.

The tail of her moonlight braid tickled softly, whispering to her skin the talents that it had for bare flesh. She wrapped it around her wrist and drew it up along the tender inside of her thigh. Silver sheen rope twisted once, twice, around onyx flesh. The free hanging silk of the tail, like a wisp brush, trailed upward along the inside of her thigh where she shivered as it met and caressed the rounds and valleys of sensitive feminine territory untrodden yet by males.

Baravti groaned as he watched the vixen move her long hair along the circumference of her obsidian nether lips. Circling lightly along smooth outer lips of black satin, whimpering almost imperceptibly as she drew silk in to the dewy velvet of red-violet inner. His teeth ground together as she slipped a finger inside and slowly pulled that damp tail upward, letting it lick the sweet blushing crevasse all the way to the button of her clit and up. She let her head fall back as she dangled her wettened braid-tail over her face and opened her mouth to sample her own nectar from the silver paint brush there on. What he wouldn't give to have it wrapped tightly around his cock, tighter than she had it about her wrist!

He moved to get to his feet to be near her.

"Do not make me hurt you," the scarred beauty warned without moving her head or stopping her slow deliberations.

"You're killing me," the prince groaned, trying to adjust an uncomfortable package.

Æiristus wrapped her mouth around her sweetened braid-tail, moaning satisfaction as she let her head fall to the side. Her fingers ran lightly in tiny circles at the delicate dark red flesh at the summit between her thighs. She gently pulled the braid-tail from her mouth, her cheeks drawn in slightly as she sucked precious liquids from her hair and let the braid drop. Her head dipped, her mouth fell open, her lower lip glistened.

Feet scooted in the cinders and dirt.

"Think about it."

"A taste?"

Fingers picked up the pace. She fell forward bracing herself with one hand. Blood warmed and ran hot through her veins. A whimper escaped dewy lips.

"Gods, your scent! I can smell you from here!"

"Live with it!" she growled. She dropped forward in the cinders, grimacing as bliss began to shatter her.

Shackles rattled. "C'mon! I'm a condemned man!"

"Rightly so," she hissed. Heat curled her toes inside her boots. Her heart assumed a rapid steady-fire in her chest. She bit into her lower lip.

"Please!"

"Dammit!" She pushed herself up digging into her pocket for the key and tossed it at him. "Touch me, you die!"

He licked his lips. Desperately seeking the fallen key, Baravti had the worst time keeping his eyes off her as she resumed her sweet torment, having moved beyond soothing circular strokes over smooth female flesh to flying over her swollen pussy dripping with lust.

Æiristus' body curled in on itself. Her head ducked. The shudder began with a low molten fire deep within. Spasms of rapture in time with her powerful heartbeat shook her inside and out. The sound of a metal click sounded off to her left. She snarled as fingers buried into her hair locking onto her braid and pulled her up. A gruff voice demanded satisfaction as the curved pillar of male muscle found its way into her mouth.

She brought a hand up to her face raking her fingers into the male flesh before her making him flinch but hardly stop. Her own scent and semi-sweet tang covering her fingers accompanied the heat of the male thrusting between her lips grazing her teeth as he plunged in through her dampened fist. His heat rose. His life-giving ball sac gently slapped at her, bounced against her, against her fist, her chin, swelling, filling quickly firm. Her lips tingled as they stretched over his eager member. She considered biting for the affront, but the fleeting thought escaped her as her own blood rushed. Her face flushed. Hands warmed. Urgency demanded more!

Saliva trickled from his captor's mouth to her fist. She lapped her tongue along his length, moaning against him. Her breath came audible, clipped. He rumbled deep in his throat, then clutching her head with both hands drove faster into that sweet slippery friction ignoring the incidental edges of her teeth. She jerked, mindless suddenly with an all-over shiver. Baravti stiffened as the suction on his cock became abruptly hard, her grip tightened. Very tight!

She tensed. Æiristus panted, screaming onto the cock as throbbing exploded within her. Her pussy pulsed in her hand spilling its sweet inner heat seeking more than anxious fingers. Her knees slipped wider apart until the coolness of the cave floor radiated up against her molten sex. Its chill sent a quaking shooting upward forcing her to near fold in half from delicious pleasure. Gasping, she launched forward sending the cock down her throat so she near choked on it. Baravti hissed, holding her against him for precious moments before re-doubling his efforts.

Æiristus shivered as she pried the male away enough that her annoyance would not get the best of her so as not to kill him. The throbbing on its delicious ebb, she had her physical release, this now was for him. Encourage him to be more pliant. She opened her eyes and looked up, watching her handsome prisoner. His face paused in momentary rapturous repose, his eyes lightly closed; white lashes fluttered along his the tops of his ebony cheeks in a trust that shouldn't be there. White brows drawn slightly inward, concentrating on hands and lips that he did not know entreating him to sweet torment. His dark violet lips parted slightly almost forgetting to breathe. She caused that.

And she could stop it in a heart's fleeting beat.

Her gazed lowered, looking at Baravti's dark arms as they held her head against his hips, Æiristus made up her mind. She flexed her fingers along his lower abdomen just above the saddle of his cock petting down, scraping her nails lightly along tender skin ripping a growl from his throat, negating his rhythm. She laughed lowly onto his member and tickled the underside of the head with the tip of her tongue.

Baravti's whole body skipped a beat, stiffening with the vibrations and sensations of the woman's teasing. He stared down on her seeing her looking up at him; her teeth flashed wickedly against him reminding him of the danger he flirted with. Red-violet lips stretched over those teeth smoothing over him making for an exquisitely snug glide. This was a virgin?

She pulled him forward in her hand, and down. Panting on him, she wouldn't release him from her mouth. She reached up with her other hand enveloping everything before her, exploring his balls, working the whole as a confection, a sugared sweetmeat, smothering it all in recent pleasures saturated from her own body.

Baravti failed to realize that he stopped. The hands were magic. Hands that had beaten him unmercifully into submission were now uplifting with a touch like no other. The mouth that cursed and disdained him, now coddled and soothed, wantonly seeking pleasure pressure points and creases of deep intimacies that urged him unknowingly forward onto his toes.

"Ah-h!" he groaned agonized, arching, near falling back down, shoving deep inside the female's mouth as he realized the tip of her tongue danced along the sensitive under fringe of his member. He braced, beginning the frenzy anew. She laughed, proud of the deliria she provoked in him even as he slammed bodily again and again against her face. More vibrations bringing on more wild rousting from him.

She adjusted her grip, growling, joining the fray more aggressively. Hips pounded hard mashing her lips and nose, striking her chin, driving the member deep into her open throat. He growled, ragged above her. She heard him hissing through his teeth. The rich violet-black flesh of his balls swirled, tightening beneath her fingers as she pressed up and in encouraging the already blazing sensations making him want to shoot down her throat in ecstasy. With her mouth already deep on his cock she reached out with her tongue to lash at the tender rounded flesh between his thighs.

Baravti whole body clenched holding her head tightly against him. His head flew back as his knees bent forward threatening to buckle beneath him. Her strong hand reached around grasping him from behind as she hugged him to her.

One splash followed another in warm torrents filling the back of Æiristus' throat as her handsome prisoner could hold back no more.

Baravti staggered back. Æiristus allowed him. He blinked unsure of what had happened. The templar brought the back of her hand to her mouth and stood. He watched as she turned and retrieved her waterskin. She up-ended the skin once for a drink and capped it.

"Key," she ordered.

The House prince looked bewildered, then remembered the shackles. He was a prisoner. He shook his head. "I don't know."

"With or without that key, the shackles are going back on," she told him. "It is in your best interest that you find it."

"You're taking me back?"

"That is my job, yes."

"But you just… How can you…? After you…?"

"After I what?"

"Goddess! No one's ever been so good to me before!"

"Try not to blaspheme around me. I find it rather vexing when a dissident trifles Her Name or Spirit."

"You're serious?" Baravti asserted. "By the Great Abyss, woman, had my mistress been half as-"

"I am not your mistress!" The templar whirled on the prince knocking him to the cinders. "My lenity with you is at its end, prisoner. Shackles! Now!"

Baravti glowered up at the female, looked around the floor of the cave and snatched up the manacles. The key for them was actually in his boot, but no way in the black abyss was he going to admit it. If there was still a chance for his escape he was going to take it.

Æiristus gruffly took the handcuffs from the House prince and turned him away from her. "Hands!" she commanded.

He obliged.

"Over there, where you were."

He sat on the far side of the cold fire pit.

"Sleep."