Ogres and Ogresses Ch. 25

"Make it...stop."

"...Alright."

Medean stood up.

Zyra watched as he undid the ties of his robe and placed it neatly on her chair. He wore a sleeveless soft leather shirt underneath. His stark white arms were more muscular than she had imagined. He was no Kail, but he was no weakling either by the looks of it.

Medean carefully removed his boots and placed them by the chair. Glancing at the door, he waved a hand towards it. She heard the lock snap back in place. The table had already been moved.

Then he came to her. She watched him from underneath the covers. Silently he gripped them and pulled them back. He slipped in beside her and placed the covers back down. She supposed it was to give her some form of decency.

She turned onto her side and Medean pulled her into his chest. Her body fit against his rather comfortably without the clasp of his bulky robe. She wrapped her arms around her breasts and stared ahead.

Without a word, he put a knee between her legs and put her hip on top of his. The cool air on her hot center made her eyes flutter.

Medean's hand slipped down her thigh, teasing her with his slow deliberate movements. His fingers brushed her inner thigh, sampling her skin's surface.

Abruptly, they went between her legs and to her clit. The sensation was too intense. Her legs squeezed and she bucked at him, but he kept her open with his knee.

"Relax...Relax."

"...sorry."

"It is fine, Miss. Work with me."

Zyra nodded, and forced herself to take a deep breath. She closed her eyes, and focused on what he was doing. The slow rhythmic motion of his hand began to calm the fire within her.

Seconds later, it began to build one. Zyra didn't mind. In fact—

"Ohh..."

She moaned, clamping her hand on his thigh as her body arched against his. She froze in a bend until the strong sensation passed. She quivered, returning against him. She did not moved her hand. If Medean thought anything about it, he said nothing. She was appreciative.

The only sounds were the rustle of their legs tangled in the sheets, Zyra's breathy pants, and Medean's hand moving inside of her.

Her orgasm came quick. Zyra fell off of the peak, crying out softly in relief. She released her chest and his knee, so she could turn her body enough to bury her moans in the sheets. She clawed at them, Medean increasing his pace to match the pulsing spasms of her pussy, pressing deep and holding when she clenched down.

"Ahh..." Zyra couldn't help herself. She let out a soft feminine coo when she calmed down, her body finally achieving what she desired.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

His voice was a whisper, Medean's hand rubbing her back in soft circles. She nodded. She shivered when Medean placed a soft, warm, kiss on her neck. He pulled her in again, and slowly, began to trail warm kisses down her neck onto her shoulder. Suddenly, he flipped her onto her back and his mouth encased a nipple.

"Ah! Med—"

She couldn't speak. His eyes were closed to her wide eyes. She gripped his head when his hand came up to stroke her breast. The other, disappeared back between her legs. Her intent to pull him off changed and she held him to her as a second wave of pleasure coursed through her.

She was grateful, in her own way. Greediness or not, she was unable to deny she needed more. Much more. He pressed his thumb to her clit, swirled it side to side as his fingers thrusted. His gentle, but firm technique made her cum, this time longer, more potent, than the previous one.

Her head lay back limply on her pillow, hands on either side of her head.

Medean didn't give her time to recover. Instead he pulled off the covers and sat up. He picked her up by her waist, her head the last to lift. Wrapping her arms around his neck, he pulled her into his lap. She moaned, resting her head on his shoulder. His hands began to wander, sliding along her burning skin. He moved as though he had no purpose or destination. He lingered on her waist, slid a single hand down her back across old scars. He explored her. Not even Kail had assessed her so curiously. His lust had prevented him from dallying. She suddenly wondered if Medean had sexual feelings for her at all. Was he completely unattracted to her? Did that give him the control needed? She tried to avoid feeling offended. It's not like she wanted him to like her. She just...wanted most people in general to like her.

"Tell me..."

His voice was seductive, soft and silky, no doubt part of her pleasure. His hand circled a scar on her lower back.

"How did you get this?" His other hand went back between her legs.

She thought back. It took several minutes for her mind to focus enough to answer him.

"A fight."

He chuckled. "How specific, Miss." Medean trailed down to another, this one supposedly on her butt. "How about this one?"

She hissed, his talents driving her insane. "I don't know," she cried.

"Really? And...here?"

His hand curled under her and joined the first hand's efforts. While one stroked, the other thrust. Her position on his lap was perfect.

Zyra's head popped up and her eyes widened, her nerves racked with panic, but she wouldn't stop him. She lifted herself up higher and braced on his shoulders. He took this as an invitation to get a better angle. Her nipples, pebbled, jutting out shamelessly towards him as her voice took on a breathier octave, grow in volume. Medean paused in order to press her head into his shoulder. He didn't need to tell her she was being loud. She was glad he didn't try to stop her.

Wantonly, she moaned against his skin. She felt Medean shiver. It made her smile against him. He dug his fingers deeper and held her down as she twisted, a move on his part, no doubt spitefully intended.

Suddenly a powerful image popped into her mind. It was her in the same position, but instead of Medean's hands, she rode his light pink cock. He spread her hips, holding her ass, thrusting up as she pushed down, their bodies smacking sloppily against one another.

This daydream sent her over.

She screamed into the crook of Medean's neck, and silenced herself by sinking her teeth into his skin. He revealed his feelings audibly, a hissed moan that made her press into him harder. She shook, digging her nails into his shoulders, holding herself to him, until she regained control.

Zyra felt dizzy, but she didn't mind. Dizzy was better than burning. Much better.

When she pulled back and saw she had left tiny cuts on Medean's shoulders, and a sizable, pink bite mark on his neck. Her eyes widened as she stared at them.

"I'm sorry."

Medean shrugged, and rolled his shoulders. Black steam rose from the cuts, and she watched them close.

"You're a rough lover, Miss Zyra."

She blushed, averting the teasing in his eyes.

"I'm said I'm sorry."

"You'll need to remind me to cut your fingernails, Miss."

"I can cut my own fingernails, thank you." Zyra rolled her eyes and pulled back from him. She wrapped herself deep in her sheets before she glanced over at him.

Medean's dark black eyes were studying her again, searching for something, probing. She looked away, shivering.

Goodness, she hated that look.

"Better?"

"Yes...thank you."

"How do you feel, Miss?"

"Fine."

"Describe fine."

"Dizzy..." Pleased with myself for no apparent reason.

"Anything else, Miss?"

"Relaxed..." Sticky.

"...and?"

"Dehydrated." Curious. Wondering how big you are underneath your idiotic skirt.

Medean stood. She watched him washed his hands in her cleansing basin, before pouring her a cup of water. She took it and drank it as slowly as possible. Zyra could feel him looming with some sort of question. He was probably going to ask it as soon as she was done. How long could one pretend to drink water? The answer, was ten minutes.

"Zyra."

For the ever patient Medean, this was not long enough. Her eyes kept drifting between his skirt and the ceiling. When she glanced a few times in a row, she could make out the outline of something. Or maybe that was all in her head.

"I would like to ask you to do something for me."

Her eyes snapped up. What the hell was she doing?

"What?"

"Please do not eat anything unless I give it to you. I do not know how you contracted this poisoning, but I believe it was outside of my supervision. I sincerely apologize Miss."

Zyra's eyes widened. "You can't be blaming yourself for what just happened."

"I am," Medean replied, his smile back in place. "I will be sure to be more vigilant in the future."

Zyra glared. "I would rather be poisoned. The only way you could be more vigilant, is if you were tied upon my back."

He chuckled, his smile devoured by a smirk.

"Nonetheless, I will find a way."

Zyra stared at him and tried to muster up indignation, but she was too relaxed and embarrassed to do so. When she thought back to what she had just done, to what his lips had done, she wanted to climb under her sheets and never return. Instead, she laid back in her bed, her eyes involuntarily drifting back to the mystery beneath his skirts.

"Yes, Miss" Medean said.

Zyra looked up at him, startled. "Yes what?"

"Yes, I have an erection. Would you care to use it Miss?"

Zyra's jaw dropped, Medean's polite smile taking on a mischievous touch. She shot a finger towards the door.

"Get. Out."

"As you wish, Miss. Sleep pleasantly."

"Out!"

She could still feel Medean's smirk as he excused himself. She curse him mentally for several moments after. Zyra wondered how she was supposed to feel at the moment.

Happy?

Sad?

Confused? Like she had betrayed Kail? Like Kail had betrayed her?

No, she didn't feel any of those things. Not even love. She was empty, emotionally drained, but...in a good way. She felt peaceful, cleansed, good.

Zyra felt good. She could live with that.

With a yawn she rolled over, and closed her eyes, and her candles flickered into darkness.

--------------------------------------------------

"Good afternoon Miss."

Zyra jumped, and then looked directly ahead.

"Ugh, g-good afternoon."

Medean took a step forward, smiling pleasantly.

"How is your day going, Miss?"

"Fine."

"And your lesson with Etaceh?"

"Fine."

"Would you like to take your lunch outside? If so I can prepare a spot for you on the edge of the nymph outcropping. Any objections?" He put a hand on her shoulder and she turned to stone. Her lack of response was a response to him.

"Excellent. I will begin preparations." He disappeared as quickly as he had come, startling her once again.

Zyra rubbed her chest with her knuckles, willing her heart to calm. Lately, everything Medean did was scaring her.

He thought things would go back to the way they were? That after spending however long he did in her bed, between her legs, that she would what? Go back to yelling at him? Continue their little game of who can get under the other's skin? That might have worked for him, but it didn't for her.

Medean had her ultimate weakness. She had his ultimate "irritation." The balance of power had shifted. The servant was no longer a servant. He was despot. A horrifically anal despot with a sophisticated pallet and a desire to make her happy.

Especially if such happiness was against her will.

She could see him now, force feeding her favorite foods while she lay chained, quelling her protests with reminders of how he had "aided" her. A shiver ran down her spine. It took everything inside of her to treat him civilly, let alone tease him lightheartedly.

"Miss?"

"AH!"

Zyra knew she had jumped a considerable high because she landed.

"Oh Miss, I apologize. I didn't mean to scare you."

His apology didn't reach his eyes.

"The hell you didn't!" Zyra balled up her fists.

A week ago she would have punched him for this.

"Don't you have a spot to prepare?"

"Oh yes, Miss. I was merely coming to ask you if you wanted a flower salad or a sunset salad."

"How the fuck would I know?"

"Well, you have tasted both varieties, Miss."

She growled. "In case you haven't noticed Medean, I have more important things to worry about."

That reminded her. Zyra looked down at her left hand. It was healing, slower than the open air made comfortable. Definitely slower than she would have preferred.

Medean reached for her at once, holding the hand close to his eyes.

"How did you get this?"

"Fire."

"What?"

"Etaceh's lesson today was about absorbing elemental magic. I'm great with Earth. Not so good at fire."

"And you failed to mention this...why?"

"Medean, you're not my teacher. I'll get better with fire."

"I meant, the wound."

"Is it a big deal?"

Zyra watched as he while he performed some kind of spell above her hand.

"Hey, it's healing. Let it be already."

"Absolutely not. You are burned, Miss."

"Yeah I kind of noticed, but I'm fine."

"Stay still."

"Obey me, Medean."

"Yes, Miss. I shall do exactly as you ask, after I heal this burn."

"I hate you."

"All done."

Zyra eyed her healed hand with annoyance. It wasn't just healed, it was softer now too. She glared at him.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to build up the calluses on this hand?"

She pushed her left hand in his face. "Smooth! Like a child! Do you have any idea what your overachieving has accomplished? I'll have cuts all over now!"

For once Medean seemed confused. "But—"

"But nothing!" Zyra let out a sigh. "You call me naïve, you call me stubborn, but it is you who embodies both of these traits the best! You seem to have forgotten why I am here Medean." Zyra pointed to her tattoo. "I am here because I have a task to do. A task that will not require smooth hands and flower salads. A task that will require pain and sweat and tears."

"A task without pleasure?"

"Precisely."

Medean looked at her. His silent gaze made Zyra uncomfortable. She threw another barb.

"Coddling me will make me weak. You are making me weak, Medean. Weak...like you!Do you understand?"

His expression was emotionless. Still he did not speak.

He honestly had nothing to say?

Zyra sucked her teeth. "Forget lunch. I ate a hearty breakfast. I'm going to train."

Zyra picked up her sword and walked into the forest. She had very little time left before Caligula's lesson, an hour maybe. Zyra walked up as far as she could, allotting some return time, and sat down.

The hell she was going to train.

She rested her body against a tree, sighing heavily. Her eyes drifted shut. They jerked open when she heard a rustling in the trees.

Who would it be now? Caligula the magically reformed cretin? Medean the meddler? Etaceh the unstable bitch?

A blue leg slipped out into her view. Zyra's eyes widened when she saw Vine, at least, she hoped it was Vine.

"Vine?"

"Yes," he answered. "You did not meet me."

"I'm sorry. Some things came up."

"I see. I am surprised to see you here. Usually you wander much closer to the Marble Tree."

"I needed some space."

"I...see."

Vine sat beside her. "There have been no attacks since my own. The nymphs and I wish to thank you for what you have done with a celebration in your honor."

"I'm not sure I've done anything," Zyra answered honestly. "I spoke to the witches about it, but I'm not certain if they actually acted upon my request."

"Nonetheless you have spoken up for us. At the very least we can prove our gratitude in this way."

Zyra smiled at the nymph and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm honored. Truly, but—"

"You decline."

Zyra grimaced. So direct. No wonder he and Gharla had hit it off.

"It's not that I'm not honored. Simply..."

You're nymphs and you'll rape me.

"...I am not sure the type of celebration you have in mind will be something I could be a part of."

"I am familiar with your type of celebration," Vine said. "Gharla and I spoke much on the topic. The Celebration of Life, I believe is what your people, the Rovians refer to it as, is a time of merriment, food, and coupling. This will be much like that."

"Did she mention I don't much care for our celebration either?"

Vine paused, seemingly confused. He leaned into her, closer than she comfortable with.

"Um, Vine. What are you doing?"

"...trying to understand."

"Understand...what? My face?"

"Why."

"Why what? My face?"

"Not your face. Why you..."

Vine shook his head. "Never mind. Interfering may summon the others here, and it is against my nature to stop them if you give the invitation."

Zyra stood up, picking up her sword. "Well then, I believe I should get going."

"You need not fear us Zyra," Vine laughed, standing as well. "Nor, what we and our celebrations represent."

Zyra's eyes narrowed. "Which is?"

"Sex," Vine said, matter-of-factly.

"I am not afraid of sex," Zyra snapped. "I will have you know, Nymph boy, that I am not a virgin."

Vine leaned against the tree, his expression coy as he rested slightly above her. "Is that so?"

"Yes!"

"And, how many people have you slept with since your grand deflowering?"

Zyra flushed. "I've had sex numerous times."

"With how many partners?"

"What does that matter?"

"You are a prude." Vine chuckled, running a hand through his green hair. "I knew this the first time I laid eyes on you. I know it now. You do not approve of me because I am a nymph, and nymphs have lots of unrestrained sex."

"I don't have to approve of you. Gharla does and that is all I am concerned with. You can do what you please, as can everyone else."

"But not with you?"

"No."

"So what happens when you do want someone to please you? You sit in the middle of the forest? Brooding?"

Zyra's eyes widened.

That was exactly what she did.

Vine laughed at the girl's perplexed expression.

"Confused little Sprout? Don't be. A lifetime of denying oneself cannot be cured by one partner. It is perfectly natural to feel trepidation when you've never fully experienced true acceptance. You need to explore. Sex is no different from any other unknown activity. If you involve yourself in the activity, it will become less daunting."

"I'm not here to fuck, Vine, I'm here to kick ass. And who are you calling sprout?"

"What are you here for?"

"To do the two tasks assigned to me by—"

"I mean in general, Sprout. What is your purpose? What do you want out of your life?"

She paused. What did she want? She used to want to be the best lead huntress she could be, guiding the Rovian sisterhood with Kyzu by her side. That dream seemed so...outdated.

"I'm not sure what my purpose is, but...I want...happiness. I suppose."

Vine grinned. "What is happier in this world, than crying out in ecstasy, churning wildly from the orgasm your skilled lover has given you?"

Zyra sighed. Well, she agreed with some of that.

"Solid advice from a nymph. Am I to fall any lower?"

"I doubt it. You've already been instructed by a witch."

"Well said."

They chuckled together, basking in the sun that filtered through the highest of the blue green branches.

"I won't promise anything," Zyra said finally. "I don't like the idea of being held down and attacked on all sides with sex. It pretty much sounds like a nightmare."

"What if I gave you the assurance of one of two partners? Only?"

Zyra rubbed her temples. "I will... consider it. I still promise nothing. And it will most likely be in the distant future."

Vine put a hand firmly on the tree, smirking.

"Look at that. From a blatant no, to open mindedness. Not bad, Sprout."

"Why are you calling me that?"

"You are green and inexperienced. Like a child. A well-developed child with a large bottom."