Ogres and Ogresses Ch. 26

Zyra had fallen to the ground a total of fifty-six times in the last seven days. Out of those times, Medean had failed to catch her four times.

Two of the incidents occurred because she had bounced off an air current, causing her to fly off into a random direction. The third happened because Medean had been called away for a moment.

"Go," Caligula said shrugging. "We will wait to resume the lesson."

Medean gave him a look and shuffled away. Zyra might have been on the ground for a minute before he vaulted her into the air. The last time had been pure misfortune, Medean just wasn't quick enough.

Currently she was lying on the forest floor, wondering what she had done to deserve this. Honestly Zyra wasn't sure whom this exercise was punishing more, her bruised and abused body, or Medean's sense of self worth. There was a haunted look in his eyes every time he had come to retrieve her as she cursed Caligula back through his generations. She had gotten pretty far. As of late she cursed his great great grandfather's father.

"Mistress!" Medean burst through the trees that she had landed near, narrowly missing the trunks themselves. "Dear Maker...!"

He reached down to her and pulled her into a sitting position.

Zyra groaned pitifully."Medean...if you have any love for me at all, please..."

"Please what, Miss?"

"Kill him."

"Aren't you dramatic? Clearly spending too much time with Etaceh."

They both frowned as Caligula walked into the clearing. He waved a hand and Zyra floated out of Medean's arms to fly in front of him. Before either of them could protest, Medean made a claw with his hand and turned his wrist in a circle. She shrieked as her bones crunched.

"There," he said smirking. "Back in place. That should do it, no?"

He placed her on the ground and she stood shakily, glaring at him with hate.

"Tell me one more time why this is important?" Zyra challenged. "Tell me just one more time."

Caligula rolled his eyes. "If you don't learn how to get down, how could I teach you how to fly?"

"Why...the fuck would I need to fly?"

Caligula sighed. "Humans. One day it's all you can think about, and now you couldn't care less. Creating devices to fly, gluing wings to yourself, fickle. That's what you all are."

Zyra hated when he talked like that. "What are you saying?"

"Ignore it girl, it's beyond you."

Zyra tried to strike him, but she was slower than normal. Caligula side-stepped her, snorting at her pathetic attempt.

"Go rest Zyra. We will continue to do this until you get it right. Etaceh says you are progressing in elemental magic. It is in your best interest to learn flight. Then, perhaps we can begin preparations for your first mission."

She growled at him, considering if she could muster a burst of energy.

Medean's cool hand rested on her shoulder.

"Come Miss," he said softly. "I will prepare dinner for you while you soak in the hot spring."

Zyra looked at him and her expression softened. With a heavy sigh she followed him out of the forest.

Caligula watched this exchange with disdain. There was something different about Medean and Zyra's relationship as of late. They had gotten closer somehow. The ease in which Medean touched her, in which he caught her without resistance or grudge from either party implied...

No, he dared not contemplate what it implied. The idea that Medean could succeed where he had failed was impossible. He was power personified. Even Zyra could not deny that. Let her sow her wild oats. Soon enough she would be his.

-

"No...it hurts...do it slower...not like that...not like that!"

"Miss, you need to hold still."

"But it hurts."

"Surely it doesn't hurt unbearably."

"Almost!"

"Which is why this is necessary."

"...is that your elbow?"

"Yes, Miss."

Medean kneaded Zyra's sore achy back with steady purposeful hands. Apparently, their purpose was to kill her.

She groaned, rolling her head side to side. "If I had known you were going to finish me off, I would have kept my clothes on."

Medean chuckled. "Caligula was right. You have been spending too much time with Etaceh."

The hot water of the spring lapped at her waist as she leaned on the moist stone edge. Medean pressed his hands into her back, easing up the pressure. Sleeping with him had lowered her guard considerably. Now Zyra no longer cared if he followed her to her bath. She wasn't open with him viewing her body, but she wasn't actively avoiding him either. They had long platonic talks that he quite enjoyed.

Medean hadn't expected to have this kind of relationship with Zyra, but he could see she benefited from it. Above all her needs, Zyra needed companionship, someone to keep her grounded, to touch her, to hold her. The more she told him about upbringing, the more he understood that Zyra had never been alone. They were like a pack of wolves. Zyra could pretend to be a lone wolf, but she had no idea what being a lone wolf was like.

He was jolted out of his train of thought when he felt Zyra wriggling in protest.

"Have your hands always been this hard?" she whined.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, I release you."

Zyra sighed in relief. "Thank you."

She turned around, the tops of her breasts treading the water.

Medean felt himself stir at the sight of her. There was one thing that had also occurred after he'd pleasured her. She hadn't let him enter her again. He wondered if she had lost all urges due to some misstep in his technique. The thought made him want to prove himself to her. He watched as she dunked underwater, shaking herself like a canine.

"Do you feel better?"

She glared at him. "Your elbow was in my back. What do you think?"

He took a tiny step forward.

"If you are sore miss I can apply a cooling spell."

She scoffed. "I tire of you witches and your spells." She watched as he took another step forward and put a hand against the wall beside her. He put a hand on her cheek, his eyes filled with concern and...ill intentions? She wasn't sure anymore.

"Are you in pain Miss?"

She swallowed, his nakedness making her more aware of her own.

"I'm fine Medean," she barked. She pushed his hand away and swam out farther. "Now lay off."

"I believe you need something to help you relax," he hummed. "Perhaps a stretch would benefit you."

Her head snapped in his direction. "I swear to the Maker and all that he stands for that is you make any such attempt I will not hesitate to drown you."

Medean chuckled. "Are you not in pain Mistress? Or is it less severe than I supposed?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I fell hundreds of feet from the sky. I should be dead! I hurt...everywhere."

"Oh dear, everywhere?"

"Yes everywhere you fuckta manu..." Her insults were cut off when Medean lifted her out of the water. She covered herself, furious.

"Medean! Have you lost your mind!" The air was humid, but cooler than the pool. Her nipples pebbled immediately.

Medean stepped between her legs, his head level with her pussy.

"If I do not have leave to stretch you, perhaps I might offer my services in another way?"

Zyra pushed a hand on his head. "Medean—"

"Increasing your blood flow will assist your recovery, and flooding your system with endorphins will ease the pain."

Her body began to sing with arousal. Dammit, not now.

Medean's perfect mask looked up at her innocently. She wondered what he really felt.

"Is any of your babble speak true? You just want me for you own selfish desires don't you?"

Medean smiled. "Why mistress, you think so little of me."

Before she could say the horrid retort he had set up so easily for her, he ducked his head between her legs.

Zyra gasped, her body quivering in pleasure. She tried to glare at Medean, but she began sliding backwards. She placed her hands behind her, covering her breasts from his sight. Like that would make any difference. She must have looked ridiculous. Of course it was then that Medean decided to look at her.

Eying her he chuckled, the vibrations humming against her clit.

"Oh..."

Medean lifted her legs over his shoulders and slid her towards him. He pressed his face down, his tongue swirling in her folds, his nose brushing her clit. She shook, her orgasm coming fast.

"Medean..." Zyra breathed. "Stop...someone will see us."

He didn't respond, continuing to work. She looked into his calm, rational eyes and groaned in frustration. It was like being pleasured by a slab of marble; emotionless, effective marble. It infuriated her. He was never fazed. He had barely blushed when he'd fucked her, and every time he touched her she cried out like a hungry child. He pressed a finger inside her and she hissed.

"Mistress?"

Damn him, damn him and his talented hands. She pushed him back down.

"Less talking servant, more blood flow."

"Yes, mistress."

With her approval, Medean began to move in a hypnotizing rhythm, and she lost herself in it. Pleasure, its pure sweetness pulled gasps from the bottom of her toes straight through her spine. And back again. Medean had a way with her, she couldn't deny it.

Zyra didn't know how to define her and Medean's relationship. Master and Servant didn't sum it up, no matter how he tried to assure her that's what it was. They weren't Lovers, she wasn't sure if they were even on equal footing. Or if she was the one above him. The selfish part of her luxuriated in the fact that he was dedicated to her pleasure. She wasn't sure about her guilt. He said that pleasure was a necessary part of life. But Zyra knew there were no emotions in what he did to her, no love on either side. She wondered if that made it wrong.

Seeing that he was losing her to thought, Medean lifted her hips even higher and pressed three fingers deep inside her. Mechanically, he began pumping. She cried out, her thoughts killed in a fell swoop. Medean's free hand struck out, covering her mouth.

"There is no barrier against the sound Mistress," he whispered. "And I cannot make one at this time. You must not be so loud."

The feel of his restraining hand didn't help. It sent a violent shiver down her spine.

"Mmfagh MMygh Mm!"

"But, I thought you enjoyed it when I did that."

"HhrgMm! Mmr GrhgRm!"

"Hey!"

"JBHMNAGUI MHM!"

Medean's face took on irritation as he increased his pace.

"There's no reason to insult me, Mistress."

He released her and lifted himself out of the water, laying above her. Her eyes widened when she saw his pink member.

"Medean, no."

"Just put your face in my shoulder Miss. I'll finish you off now, sans the insults if you would."

Medean reached down between her legs as she stared in indignation. Before Zyra went to show him what an insult really was, a potent wave of pleasure flowed through her. His lips dipped to her breasts, teasing the soft nipples with his teeth.

"Ughh..."

She buried her face in his shoulder, forcing him to pull away from them.

Medean could feel her cries, her moans the hummed in the crook of his shoulder. Her pulse quickened as the passion that overwhelmed her. He wondered when her restraint would crumble.

He slipped out a finger to circle her clit. Zyra let out a broken sob and came undone. He gritted his teeth trying not to look at her. Her eyes were watering, and her lips were moist from biting them.

Suddenly Zyra pulled back from his neck, gasping like a fish. She shook wordlessly, her mouth wording screams, her fingernails scratching down his sides. She flopped onto the wet tile, and lay there catching her breath. Medean waited.

She sighed, and turned her head towards him.

"Get off me," she said breathlessly. "I'm serious."

Medean didn't understand, but he supposed he wasn't supposed to. Still, he had to ask.

"Are you disgusted by me Miss?"

She didn't answer, catching her breath.

"Zyra..."

"No."

She pushed away from him and scooped up her towel. "It's going to take more than magical dick to make me change."

He shook his head, seeing a black blur from the corner of his eye. So someone did see after all.

"I'm not trying to change you Miss. I am simply trying to please you."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You want to please me, you pleased me."

"I can do a better job."

She gave him an odd look. "There's nothing to improve. This isn't about you."

Medean's lips thinned. He didn't believe her. "I understand. Forgive my forwardness. Please, allow me to fetch you clean clothes before you depart."

"It's fine," she tutted, wrapping herself in her large fluffy towel. "If you want to fetch something, fetch my dinner."

"Yes mistress."

She watched as he walked forward, a cloud of black smoke engulfing him and dressing him in his robes. He walked out the door and she rubbed her temple.

Oh boy.

-

Etaceh covered her mouth, a horrified gasp halted before it could pierce the air.

She had heard that Caligula had done quite the number on Zyra and had intended to join her for some bonding. She had scented oils and tea ready, hoping to find some common ground with the moody human girl. Surely even Zyra could appreciate her advice while drinking healing tea in a hot spring.

Etaceh opened the door and walked inside. Zyra was nowhere to be found.

"Surely you haven't drowned," she huffed, walking deeper into the room. As she passed the narrow swirling pool, soft tell-tale pants came from behind the mood rock. She frowned, ready to shoo away the witches that were ruining her and Zyra's plans. She walked closer, her mouth open to scold. She was left with her mouth open, gaping like a fish.

She saw Medean's pale, lean body, his butt resting above a pair of open brown legs, its owner quivering in the crook of his neck. His hand moved furiously between them, and Zyra tossed her head back and moaned.

Etaceh took a step back. Dear God.

She flew from the room. As she stood outside the door, she heard a rustle from inside. They were leaving. Etaceh teleported herself into her room and sat on her bed. So...Zyra was fucking Medean. And...apparently, the sex was good.

Etaceh felt something crawl onto her face that she hadn't felt in a long time. Crimson heat, settling right on her cheeks. She blushed and began to giggle.

"I do love it when a plan comes together."

One point for the witches, zero points for the Ogre. Now all she had to do was bleed her for details. Etaceh waited until the evening before summoning Zyra. Then, with a combination of tears, begging, and threatening, she had her where she wanted her. Between her own legs.

-

"So, how is life treating you Zyra?"

"As well as to be expected."

"Ah. And do you find your accommodations comfortable?"

"Not really."

"And your...service?"

"Your food is still strange, but I haven't turned into anything, so I suppose I should be grateful."

Zyra sat on the ground in front of Etaceh. She had been forced to drink a hair growth potion so Etaceh could braid her long locks while they "shared." The witch's bony thighs lay on either side of her and she sighed.

She wondered if anyone she'd been intimate with had been cut by them.

Zyra sighed. "Is this absolutely necessary?"

"You do not understand the significance of the braiding ritual," Etaceh snapped. "It has been passed from female to female for generations. During the sharing of secrets and council, women braided one another's hair to instill goodwill and faith."

"What about for practicality? To keep one's hair neat and presentable?"

"That is less important. It is more important that you entrust your friends to do so for you."

"I see. Why are you braiding my hair then?"

"Oh ha ha, your sarcasm is not lost on me Rovian."

I wasn't being sarcastic.

"You really are a clever one aren't you Zyra?"

"...Thanks."

They sat in silence, Etaceh humming to herself a simple repetitive tune. It began to catch Zyra's interest.

"What is that song you hum Etaceh?"

Etaceh's fingers stilled. "Oh, a song from the days before the Purge. It is very old, holding many secrets for life."

Zyra's interest rose. She knew she was in trouble when she wanted the council of a witch. Still, she needed to listen.

"What secrets does this song hold?"

She could feel Etaceh's grin baring into her skull.

"It's like this Zyra," she cooed. "There was once a human woman who traveled the world, an explorer who traveled the seven seas. She gazed over humanity and found but one truth. Her story was recorded in song. In fact, it is even sung today, sometimes in the farther valleys, ones with less...civilized tendencies. Do you want to know what she said Zyra?"

Normally she would have said no, but this time Zyra genuinely wanted to know, and if Etaceh did decide not to tell her, for the first time, she would actually be disappointed.

"What did she say?"

Etaceh cackled, releasing the hair so Zyra could turn toward her. "She said this: "Sweet dreams are made of these. Who am I to disagree? I traveled the world and the seven seas. Every body is looking for something."

"It sounds like bragging—"

"I am not done! Hm...your manners Zyra, honestly. All you need to know is this of the song. She said this: Some of them want to use you, some of them want to be used by you. Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused. Clever isn't it?"

Zyra sighed. A waste of time. "It doesn't even rhyme. Aren't the wise fables supposed to rhyme? And who are them? And why are there only four options?"

Etaceh let out a long sigh and turned her back, her spider fingers weaving their web on her head.

"Zyra, I can never tell if you're exciting or dull."

"Why thank you Etaceh."

Fuck you too.

"Done!"

Etaceh took Zyra over to the mirror and allowed her to admire her handiwork. An intricate series of braids collected to form a flower on the side of her head. Zyra whistled. Even she could not help but be impressed.

"Wow Etaceh...it's beautiful."

Etaceh squeezed her in response. "Oh! Thank you! Finally, you understand the virtues of long hair!"

"It is very pretty."

"Oh! Just wait until tomorrow, I'll show you—"

"Etaceh, I'm not keeping my hair this long."

"—part of the London scene—"

"Etaceh."

"—cherry on top! Oh Zyra!"

She hugged her again and Zyra sighed. In one ear and destroyed on impact.

"You know Etaceh, you never explained you know. You never told me the purpose of the parable."

Etaceh pulled back, her lips sliding into a smirk. "Well frankly it's obvious. Everyone is looking for something. You and I, Kail and Scallen, even your precious Medean. And when they say everybody, she means every body.

Zyra's eyes widened. She knew.

"What the traveler discovered was that there are two types of people Zyra, rulers and subjects. The used and the user. The abused and the abuser. Together, they complete the balance, and create a sweet dream."

Etaceh put a sharp finger gently under her chin, her eyes dark. "So, tell me my dear. What are you?"

Zyra stepped back, hating when this side of Etaceh surfaced. "Neither," she said. "And I'm not going to let some dead traveler tell me what I am."

She opened the door, her hair swirling behind her. "I'd rather have nightmares." Zyra bowed to Etaceh and departed, leaving the witch cackling in glee.

Zyra wasn't sure whether Etaceh was trying to warn her, threaten her, or just irritated her. The old bat was bored. Medean...well he hadn't been the same since she'd slept with him. Maybe that was a mistake. Or maybe, she was being irrational, but she didn't love him. And, she wasn't sure he even desired her. How could she be vulnerable with someone who was never vulnerable? Who always wore a mask?