Ogres and Ogresses Ch. 25

Unfortunately Medean needed her to trust them. Despite their selfish reasons for enhancing her power, they were aiding her in some way. She would need the skills they helped her hone. He waited a beat, and then cast a spell on the flower in the corner of her room.

"Offspring of light, lend me your sight. Show me desires that strengthen her might. Unfold marked plans that villains dare boast, reveal the demons they conceal the most."

The flower quivered, whining at first at the foreign magic within her, and then she cooed, understanding that it was good. Her petals waved in acceptance of her purpose. Medean bowed in thankfulness. He gave her a protection charm should Caligula sense Zyra's ally, and walked towards the pool.

He was about to open the door when Zyra flung it open.

"I suppose, "wait here" was a bit vague."

He bowed. "Not at all Miss, I merely wished to assure you would not be late for your breakfast.

Zyra rolled her eyes. "Whatever Medean."

She followed him out of the Marble Tree, her hands in fists by her side. When would the magic pull her back? Did Medean really have the witch's permission? She waited for the mark of her servitude to restrain her. When she was a yard out she stopped. Medean walked four more steps before realizing.

"Miss?"

She fidgeted. "Are you sure I can go?"

Medean looked at her, his eyes filled with pity.

She sneered.

"Don't look at me that way."

He walked up to her and took her hand. "Trust me."

Zyra bit her lip and stared at the ground. She wanted to say something but she couldn't. Instead, she squeezed his hand. Medean led her forward, his eyes never leaving her form.

They kept walking.

The sky was a haze of blues blacks. He took her to the edge of the nymph forest. There was a simple log on its side and a blanket under a tree. He led her to sit on the log and with a wave of his hand food covered the blanket.

"I know it's not Rovian," he remarked, "but I believe these have been your favorite thus far from your time here."

He had picked out her favorite foods. He had given her as close as a Rovian setting as possible. She didn't know what to say. So she moved over.

"Sit."

"Miss..."

"I said sit!"

Slowly, he sat beside her. Then, she reached for the fruit that looked like tiny watermelons. As she ate she could see it lightening on the horizon. She and Medean had a perfect view of the sunrise. As the sun splattered the horizon with deep oranges, reds, and yellows, she felt at home.

"I guess, no matter where you go, the sunrise will always be the same."

"Of course, Miss."

She took a vial of drink and poured a full glass and passed it to him.

"So, what is the occasion again?"

Medean wanted to protest because he had only brought one glass. She picked up the vial and raised an eyebrow.

"Well?"

"I never gave you a gift for your...month-a-versary."

"You're joking."

"Well it's a bit pretentious of me to say I did this for no reason."

She laughed. "Yes, it is."

"Then...I shall say it is an attempt to earn your forgiveness."

Zyra looked at his cowed expression and felt herself soften.

"Alright, you've caught me on a good day. I forgive you." Zyra raised the vial to him. "To the unchanging sun."

He raised the glass. "To the merciful keromedio."

Medean drank from the glass, ignoring that she drank from the vial like she was a common drunkard, and not a magical Rovian Princess. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and he winced.

Then, she smiled at him, a precious rarity only accented by the rays of sunrise lingering in her hair. He smiled back at her.

This was his keromedio. He would accept her. He wouldn't change her if he could. Well, maybe a few of her manners, but in some ways, her rough charms were...charming.

"Hey Medean, are you gonna eat that?"

"No Miss, this is all for you."

"Oh thank you. I did not know I was such an insatiable pig."

"I never meant—"

"I can take a hint Medean, but I'm choosing to ignore it. I require vast quantities of food. If you wished to shame me you've failed. Feel free to take those weird yellow things and eat them. Unlike me, you're about one grape from dying."

"Thank you Miss."

"You are most welcome. And face the sun, you need some color."

Medean chuckled. Zyra was colorful enough for the both of them.

---****----****----****----****----****----****

Caligula walked through the halls of the Marble Tree, trying with difficulty to hide his excitement. Zyra's servant had been asked to fetch stones for the hot spring's rejuvenating powers. He would be far from Zyra. He pushed past her door without difficulty. It hadn't been locked, not that if it had it would have mattered.

As he eased inside he immediately sense remnants of her lust. So she was in fact attempting to rid herself of the sensations? No doubt she had fallen asleep unrequited, not knowing that the frustration would only build.

It pleased him.

She wouldn't resist him, no, not after a night of fervent wanting. He closed the door behind him.

Chuckling, he took the cover in his hand, and slowly drew it back. His breath caught when he saw he bed was empty.

"Impossible...B-But how?"

The lust milk of Acaron was not a simple commodity. It was a rare item he had procured through much hardship. It not only aroused its recipient, but placed them in a tantric state, making them open to the advances of anyone skillful enough to give them their dark desires, which would be primitive pleasure. Once he drank of her moistness, he need only kiss her to be able to arouse her at will. A single gesture and she would be begging for him whenever he chose. But Zyra shouldn't have been able to wake. Not without assistance. Not without an elixir to numb the effects and a witch who—

His eyes drifted to the glass on the table. He went over and smelled it. Fury seeped into his bones. Medean. Once again the meddling bastard had dared interfere. No doubt he had taken her outside to drink of the sunrise and cleanse the milk from her system. She'd be ravenous once it cleared. A man as thorough as Medean was sure to have quite a spread prepared.

Caligula took several deep breaths.

He grinned.

Not to worry, it wouldn't be long now. Zyra was becoming more comfortable around him. The moment that she let down her guard he would be there to tempt her.

How could a mere human resist his body, his sexual prowess, his power? It was a simple ordeal. He might not even require magic.

Zyra was suspicious of him, but surely without Medean she would have no one but her instructors to guide her.

Once he showed her the way, Zyra would kowtow just as all others did.

Medean would not be able to change that. The dark witch had forgotten himself. Did he think he was special? Caligula chuckled and exited Zyra's room.

Soon Medean would learn, there was no witch darker, than himself.

----****----****----****----****----****----*

Zyra's lesson with Etaceh began strangely. She had been in the middle of her normal chipper greeting, when Etaceh stopped cold.

"Zyra darling! What a lovely—"

Etaceh looked at her with fear, and ran over to her. She looked into her eyes, opened her mouth and smelled her breath, and pulled down her shirt collar to look at her neck before Zyra pushed her off.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Zyra snapped.

"Zyra. Did anything happen to you?"

"Like what?"

"Anything!"

"That's pretty vague. Even for you Etaceh. What are you..."

"Oh, thank the Maker."

Etaceh enveloped her in a hug that would have touched her coming from anyone other than her. Since it was Etaceh, it left her unsettled.

"Etaceh..."she mumbled, eyes wide. "What are you doing?"

"You smell like..."

The witch pulled back, composing herself as best as she could, but it was too late. Zyra had seen genuine emotion from Etaceh and it only served to confuse her.

"Nothing dear," she chided. "Nothing. Now, on to your lesson. Oh and Zyra?"

"Yes?"

"Before you eat...do make sure Medean checks it first. There's been an outbreak of...sprite powder poisonings and I was afraid for a moment that you might have...well, you know."

Zyra frowned. "What are you symptoms of a sprite poisoning?"

"Has anything been out of the ordinary?"

Zyra's frown flattered even more. No way would she tell Etaceh that she had gotten randy out of the blue, last night.

"Not really."

"Good. Now, your lesson."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Caligula's lesson was even stranger than Etaceh. Zyra couldn't help but feel he was going uncharacteristically easy on her. Not to mention he kept asking her questions like...

"Do you need to take a break Zyra?"

Questions like that.

"Since when do we take breaks?" Zyra asked, her sword at the ready. "I've begged for rest in the past and you never allowed it."

"You've progressed at an acceptable rate as of late," he said. "It must be the use of the sword. The dynamics are similar to a spear, though you will need better training. You hold it awkwardly, and you would never beat another swordsman with that grip."

"Why would I need to beat a swordsman?"

"I am preparing you for all possibilities Zyra, not some of them. Now, would you like a break or not?"

Zyra shook her head. "No. I want to finish this lesson. I have plans this evening."

Caligula raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

Zyra nodded. "Yes."

"Doing what?"

"What does it concern you?"

"I'm simply making conversation Zyra."

"Wonderful. Is that part of the lesson?"

She hid a grin when he glared at her. He coughed and it was gone. What a carefully crafted façade.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Then come."

Zyra ran at him, her sword in front of her. The magically conjured targets appeared and she struck them before they could strike her. She fell on her knees as she was attacked from behind but an unseen foe. She rolled forward and sprung back to her feet, charging none other than Caligula. She sliced at his barriers as he chuckled. Zyra smirked. She would wipe that smirk right off of his face.

She jumped up and let out a battle cry as she drove the sword downwards. Caligula created a barrier above him and she pushed the sword down with all of her might. His cocky smirk disappeared when purple sparks erupted from the barrier as it sliced open. Caligula abandoned it, stepping to the side as she landed, having cut it in two.

She swung at him and he barely blocked. With a hand he sent a wave of magic that knocked her several feet backwards.

"I thought we were practicing barriers!" Zyra protested, scrambling up.

"You learned how to defend yourself from more than barriers, haven't you?"

"You're a cheat Caligula."

"My apologies Zyra. Next time, I'll allow you to chop my head off."

"Thank you!"

Caligula laughed, and some of Zyra's fury left her. It sounded genuine, without a dual meaning, or at her expense, for once.

It was low, and soft, dare she say nice?

His face lit up when he laughed, as though the evil inside of him had hidden for a bright sparkling moment of truth. She didn't know he could look like that.

"Is something unsightly on my face, keromedio? Or are you admiring my beauty?"

And then it was gone.

"Nothing as unsightly as your face, Caligula."

He responded by conjuring up five more opponents. They all looked like him. Zyra rolled her eyes. How wonderfully mature.

She charged forward, happy to destroy them.

When the lesson finished, Zyra was dripping in sweat and could barely stand, but she felt good. Caligula hadn't abused her in a cruel manner, and she had chosen to push herself. She could live with the repercussions of her own choices.

"Good work," Caligula said. He strode over and patted her on the shoulder. He extended her a glass and she accepted it gratefully. "I expect the same amount of effort tomorrow. Enjoy your plans."

Zyra nodded and began to take a sip, when a chill raced down her spine. She froze when her body began to feel fuzzy, strange.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Zyra grumbled. She stared at the glass. "I mean...do you...what are the symptoms of sprite powder poisoning?"

"Of what?"

"Never mind. I'm done with this. Bye."

Zyra handed the glass to him as he protested about how wasteful she was being. She ignored him. It had been water. Etaceh had warned her and she was so thirsty she'd forgotten. The poison was probably still in her system. Certain foods probably exacerbated it.

Zyra ran away, unhappy when the feelings intensified. What the hell was wrong with her? Something inside her suddenly rang with arousing urgency, She hadn't felt so peculiar since...since well, Scallen had poisoned her. Her eyes narrowed. If that snake was behind this she'd turn him into a belt. She sighed. She had been planning to visit Vine this evening.

Now, all she wanted to do was...well a visit to Vine would...no.

How could she even consider...

Ugh.

She needed a bath. Where was a cold river when you needed one?

Zyra rushed to the hot spring. Her quick, hot, bath only worsened her condition. When she went back to her room, Medean was setting down her dinner.

"Miss, I was just—"

"Medean, leave."

The witch looked hurt. "Miss, I thought you had forgiven me."

She forced herself to pause. "I am sorry. I did not mean to speak to you in that manner. You are forgiven, but I currently need space. Please leave."

Medean tried to study her but she turned from him, and growled viciously.

"I'm giving you an order! As your keromedio I demand you obey me. Now go! GO!"

She was breathless by the end of her scream.

"...yes, Miss."

She turned and saw Medean withdraw. Stumbling, she locked the door behind him. Then she pulled the table over and blocked the door. There, she was safe.

Running to the bed, she stripped and lay down, catching her breath. It was getting worse, like a diluted basilisk bite, but unlike that bite it wasn't peaking. It was only getting worse and worse with each moment. Zyra lay underneath the covers and urged her body to relax.

"Calm down. It's alright," she whispered. "Calm down. You can beat this."

Shakily, she put her hand between her legs and stroked.

Zyra exhaled in relief. Gently, she rubbed her clit, wiggling her fingers in her soaking folds until she was begging for more. Time went by in droves of soft exhales that grew into muffled whines as her hand rubbed quicker, and quicker.

The relief she initially felt did not last. She did everything, she usually did to bring herself off, but nothing works.

Nothing.

She pinched her nipples and stroked harder.

Nothing.

Groaning in frustration she put both hands between her legs and thrust with her fingers while she stroked. It felt good, so good, but she wasn't climaxing. She wasn't falling over the cliff.

Why? Was it because she had felt the real thing? Were her fingers no longer enough?

Zyra scanned around to find something bigger to play with. Nothing seemed safe. The closest things were the candles which were hot, for one, and melting. She would only create a terrible mess.

She let out an involuntary cry, ringing the walls with despair. She closed her eyes and saw Kail, his charming smile, his roguish demeanor. In her mind she could see his thick, longer fingers as they touched her in the most intimate of places. She imagined his fingers digging into her waist. It had the wrong effect. Now she was horny, and sad.

She hadn't cried for a while and now the tears threatened to come again. Why could emotions feel so painful? Zyra missed him, missed everyone so much. She felt so alone.

She felt—

Zyra let out a terrified cry when the bed beside her dipped. Her arms flailed out behind her as she tried to flip over, but a solid mass stopped her. A hand snaked over her top thigh and between her legs. Gasping, she jerked her head back and saw...

Medean.

His glasses were off, his gaze concentrated, as his fingers tried to slip between her squeezed thighs.

"Medean?" she shrieked. How had he gotten in?

His thin fingers managed to curl upwards and she shrieked when his fingers pressed her entrance.

"N-No."

Zyra yanked herself away to the edge of the bed, when she realized she was naked.

In the seconds it took her to battle between pride and decency, Medean wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back into his chest. With a more secure grip, he began to stroke her soaking center, slowly, up and down with three warm fingers. She shivered in his arms, her body feeling vulnerable against his clothed body.

It felt so good, but it had stop. It had to.

"Medean—"

"Please bear it Miss."

Medean's lips were on her ear, blowing warm, moist air. "I heard you. For hours. I know the signs. You've been poisoned."

"P-Poi...the sprite powder poisoning?"

Medean hesitated, and then asked, "Who told you that?"

"Etaceh. She said that there was an outbreak. You were to watch my food before I—"

"Fine."

Before she could ask why he had spoken in that manner, he slipped a finger inside her. Zyra cried out, placing her hand on his to pull him from her. He had gone inside her with embarrassing ease.

Zyra knew she was dripping all over his hands. She could feel her moistness leak between his fingers. She pulled at his arm and pushed him back with her other hand and he shushed her like a fussing child.

"Shh...Please Miss. Let me relieve you. Allow me to give you pleasure."

"I...I won't let you fuck me Medean."

"I am not trying to fuck you, Miss."

Zyra's eyes widened when Medean added another finger. Hooking his fingers upward, he began a slow delicious thrusting, pressing her clit with his palm. He reached his thin fingers deep inside her. She arched, letting out a shaky sigh of huntress curses.

"Why are you...doing this?" she breathed. This wasn't fair. It was so easy for him. Her eyes were threatening to cross.

"I want nothing but your happiness Zyra," he said in a clipped tone, his patience growing thin.

This situation was getting out of hand. He was frustrated for allowing her to be taken advantage of twice, and she was irritating him with her distrust. Between that and her naivety, he wasn't sure whether to be impressed of her renowned feats, or incredulous.

"You should know that by now."

"But—"

"Will you bear this Miss, or would you like me to stop?"

Medean's hand stopped moving. Her pussy immediately clenched down on his fingers, as though her body was trying to coax him on, with or without her consent. Panic reared its ugly head as the heat began to flow through her again, worse than before.

"Shall I stop?" Medean asked.

Zyra didn't answer.

Medean let out a heavy sigh and pulled back his hand.

She grabbed it. Her heart had fearfully skipped a beat. The dark witch pulled his hand back, releasing her waist. She turned, holding the covers to herself.

Medean's hand was covered in her sticky wet arousal. He spread his fingers to show her, his eyes lidded with a cross of irritation and tiredness.

"I will not beg, Zyra," he said. "This is not for my benefit."

He scanned her as she lay in the bed and took her hand. She was shaking, her fingertips pruned due to the amount of time she had spent stroking her sopping folds.

Zyra pulled her hand back in shame.

"I don't want to feel this way," she whispered, holding herself.

"I am not here to quell your wants Zyra." Medean let out a sigh, softening his tone. "Zyra...what do you need me to do? Please tell me."

Zyra closed her eyes and exhaled brokenly. Forget pride, what was she fighting for? Her virginity was long gone.