Sex is a Job Description? Ch. 15

As the nearest archer met his gaze, Vendr raised his hand and flicked two of his fingers toward the fort. Hopefully, the surprise attack would work better this time than it had the last two. Arrows coated with pitch arced out of the forest and through the torches set on the walls, igniting in luminous bursts of flame. They fell inside the fort quietly and Vendr thrust himself from the trees, raising his axe high. Finally, it worked flawlessly!

"To me, brothers!" he called, and all at once a war cry from his company resounded all around him. He rushed to the gate and decapitated the nearest of the two guards with a downward stroke that cleaved through chainmail and pauldron alike. The second guard raised his sword, but Vendr nearly split him in half diagonally with a return stroke up from the ground.

With the guards dead, he grabbed the portcullis gate and started to lift it. The key to storming these forts was to break through before any actual infantry could be mobilized. As lethal as archers were, arrows were not quite as dangerous as swords for demons of Vendr's size.

Two arrows thudded against the giant's shoulder and he let out a roar in frustration. He was quickly braced by several of his men and two of his archers fired through the gate at his assailants. Slowly, the gate opened and Vendr held it up while his company poured into the camp, coming to life in confusion by now.

Ladders mounted the wall and very quickly arrows whistled through the tightly-packed tents inside. Vendr passed off holding the gate up to a few of his men and joined the growing fray in and around the tents, swinging his axe at soldiers who were in various states of preparation.

His attention was moved to the central barracks as its doors opened and fully-armed and armored soldiers poured out of it in formation, an expanding, gleaming row of shields in the firelight. Vendr quickly made for the line and his men gathered in his wake, preparing to charge.

Vendr gripped his axe with both hands and led the charge, letting loose a war cry as he bounded across the span between him and his foes. They braced against him, but it was of little use. His axe tore one shield away from its owner's hand and then spilled his entrails across the cold ground.

He blocked a stab at his head and returned with a chop that took the demon's arm off at the shoulder. A second strike removed both his legs. Vendr kicked aside a soldier who'd turned his back to engage another of his men, throwing him to the ground.

He was like a titan amongst gods.

"Face me in single combat, Vendr," shouted a voice over the din of battle and snapping of burning tents and bodies.

"Enough!" Vendr roared, causing the battlefield to slowly come to a halt. Both sides returned to their respective positions and Vendr turned to face his foe. To anyone other than a demon, such a happening would be considered absurd, but in Hell, honor duels were nothing to be scoffed at. Sacred tradition was to be followed, honor to be had, a reputation to be gained or upheld.

Vendr's foe was a good-sized demon wielding a broadsword. As a show of his skill with a blade, he wore no restricting helm, which made Vendr grin widely. The giant lowered his axe to the ground and extended his arm.

"I am Vendr, first captain of Lord Fentin's host."

The demon nodded and clasped forearms with Vendr. "I am Sten, captain of the eighth pass."

The two unclasped forearms and took their respective stances for combat. Vendr took a deep breath and shifted his weight to his back leg. He could end this quickly if he gauged his opponent's opening move right.

Sten lunged forward, the tip of his blade aimed at Vendr's navel. The larger demon twisted his frame away from the blade and swung his axe to parry. The weapons connected, and Sten was thrown to the left. However, he spun to keep the momentum of his attack and caught Vendr across the chest with his blade's deadly point.

Vendr grunted and swung at his foe's legs, surprised by Sten's quickness at leaping back and stabbing at his exposed arms. Vendr swung backwards to parry with the flat of his blade, catching Sten's hand with crushing force. The latter's blade slipped from his grasp and ended up on the ground.

Sten rolled under the whirwind blow the captain delivered and retrieved his sword with his left hand, as his right was bloodied and several of his fingers bent badly out of place. He swung at Vendr again, slashing across his midsection. The giant took the blow and smashed Sten in the side of the head with his fist.

The demon was sent to the ground with an audible thud. Vendr followed up with a strike straight down at his foe to finish the duel. However, Sten raised his blade and blocked the thunderous blow with both arms bracing his weapon above him. Steel grated against steel and shrieked as the two captain fought to overcome one another.

Vendr let the head of his axe slide up and hooked Sten's blade beneath its head. He pulled down with incredible force and his axe sank through armor and muscle and bones alike, burying itself in Sten's entrails.

Vendr pushed up and raked his axe through Sten's torso up to his neck, ending his life in a matter of moments. Sten's arms went slack and his blade slid away from Vendr's axe, protruding from his ruined and bloody breastplate.

The victorious captain stood and removed his weapon from Sten's body with a sickening slurp. He turned and faced the soldiers standing in a line before him, shields locked together and gleaming against the firelight as they had before.

He glanced down at their captain's corpse, ruined and disemboweled.

"Well fought, noble foe."

The battle ended quickly afterwards, with Vendr's forces overpowering and massacring what was left of the garrison in a matter of minutes. Everything of value was looted and every scrap of food and drink taken from the fort as the fires spread and consumed the larger part of its innards.

Vendr's company returned to their staging camp and distributed the loot and supplies amongst themselves. Vendr returned to his quarters, if one could call it that. Four posts staked in the ground with tanned hide draped across them to act as walls. It was open to the sky, but still provided enough privacy for the captain and his companion.

He entered his quarters and sighed at the sight of Naia, his baphomet, curled up in a bundle of furs next to the small fire he'd made to keep her warm before leaving earlier. In the time it had taken this small blaze to use most of its fuel, he'd sacked four forts and broken open two passes for other companies to continue through to further holdouts. This put him ahead of schedule and afforded him some time to rest.

The baphomet suddenly sat bolt upright. "My lord, you're hurt!"

"I am fine," the demon replied, motioning for Naia to lie back down. She did, though reluctantly as her eyes darted back and forth from his shoulder to his chest and his thigh. She shivered again.

Vendr took the fur blanket off his own bedroll and laid it over Naia's body.

"I'm sorry for the lack of accommodations. Such is a soldier's plight."

Naia smiled at his joke. "It is of no great concern, my lord."

"I would have left you in my quarters in the war camp, but Mefur and the Lord have made a habit of taking things from me as of late." Vendr suppressed the dissatisfaction at being denied a duel with Usher Lanos many months ago.

"Yes lord," Naia replied obediently, sitting up. She shivered visibly, even under the padding and furs that were supposed to keep her warm. Vendr opted to sit down behind her and pull her into his lap in order to keep her warm.

She was tiny against him, like a little mouse nestled against a bear. Even covered up, she looked fragile enough to break just by grazing her with his fingertips. It was as if even touching her at all would break her into a thousand little pieces, in stark contrast to his unbreakable, immovable frame.

"Do you wish for me to provide a tune?" the baphomet asked, turning her head to him.

"A lullaby," the demon answered back. Naia took a deep, clear breath and then tilted her head up and began to hum a slow, calming tune. Vendr almost had to strain to hear it, but he felt its simple beauty through her small body.

He embraced her more gently, their bodies relaxing against one another as her tune drifted through the small enclosure and wound around its perimeter like a hand with fingers curling slowly. The furs fell from Naia's body, but she seemed not to notice as Vendr's arms snaked around her frame and secured her warmly against his muscled, tired form.

After the melody's hand had enclosed them both in its gentle grasp, Vendr began to notice Naia's body moving very slowly. Her hips rolled in the same slow, drifting way the notes in her voice did, aligning her entire being with one aim. The demon's desires started to stir, like a beast from a long winter, regaining its senses bit by bit.

In the rhythm of her sweet, soft lullaby, Naia said, "If you wish for me to change the tune, you need only ask."

Vendr breathed almost inaudibly, "Faster."

The baphomet responded by drawing more notes into the tune, filling in long, slow spins of notes with crisper, quicker ones. Her hips matched the quickening pace, fueling the desires in Vendr's body exponentially. His arousal became apparent to the baphomet, but she didn't seem to care or mind as her tune carried on unhindered.

While his needs were being met, he reasoned that for her good work he should reward her. But with such a frail and fragile body, he couldn't do as he had done in the past with his late wife, a baphomet of considerable build for one of her race. However, Naia was no child, and himself no brute.

Vendr slipped his hand down between the baphomet's pale thighs and rimmed her sex with his fingertip, listening to how smooth and steady her tune remained despite the growing feeling coming from within her.

His finger found her clit. She was already prepared to go through with whatever he wanted, holding her voice away from what was happening to her body. In the months that he'd had her as a companion, she had not once been his bedmate, though it didn't stop her from being the only slave he truly cared anything about.

His finger began its delicate ring of motion, rubbing Naia's clit in little circles over and over again. Her body temperature rose sharply at his ministrations, causing a red flush to spread across her cheeks and neck. Her tune changed slightly, taking on a deeper and huskier tone as they continued to work each other up

As they teased and prodded each others' self-control, Vendr began to hear whispers in Naia's voice, meandering between the tones she sang. They danced across the very limits of his hearing, staying in the shadowy depths her voice created. Vendr stared blankly into the fire, not seeing it as much as he was looking at his body intertwined with the baphomet's.

She whispered deeper things to him than satisfying desires. Her voice offered him resolution, acceptance, completion. He unconsciously slipped his finger insider her core and started to pump it in and out of her slowly, feeling the change in her voice as words became more concrete in his mind, spinning like dancers upon ideas that made themselves comfortable in his daydreaming.

She removed the barriers between them. No more flesh and blood and bone separated their souls, only the reluctance to let go of all else that held them shackled to the world. Together, they wandered slowly, deeper into the melody she brought forth from times when creation looked like a wave of life sweeping across nothingness, leaving dreams and stars in its wake.

Vendr removed his finger from her and lifted Naia slowly off his lap. He placed his cockhead at the cleft of her thighs as it rose to meet her body, desiring nothing more than to make them one being with one soul and purpose.

"Do not break rhythm," he whispered. Naia nodded and he began to lower her body to his again, sinking his throbbing arousal into her core with agonizing slowness. He continued to brace her with his hands, unsure as to how far she could take him. It took every ounce of strength in his body not to thrust up into her and fuck her body until he was satisfied.

His head still floated amongst the heavens, making it double difficult to maintain composure with the object of his desire literally in his hands and trembling with pleasure. Lower she sank, unceasing in her sensual melody even as her insides gripped him as if to cling to life. His member easily parted soft, wet fold after fold, sending shivers up to the base of his skull.

His eyelids nearly closed as his eyes began to roll back. It was simply intoxicating to feel this once again. Her voice rang like the finest crystal glass' thrum, melting away his earthly thoughts and ascending him into another world of pleasure.

He didn't realize that she'd reached the base of his erection until she began to roll her hips again, sending tendrils of pleasure spiraling up his body and through the core of his being. He bit back a groan and started to roll against her as well, placing his hands on her waist to keep his body in rhythm with hers.

It tested them, the slow and easy pace they took. Her moreso than him, as she continued to let her voice ebb and flow with an unearthly tune. Vendr's body begged his mind to let loose and fuck her, but he refused, taking the route he'd chosen from the beginning. He was not going to break her or end this beautiful melody, not after she'd built it up so far from scratch.

She pulled his arousal through an especially long cycle and pierced his thoughts with her voice, guiding his mind to where she wanted it. He followed phantom whispers that rose and fell along a tide of heartfelt hymns of desire and passion. His body still rocked with Naia's slowly, bringing him closer to climax with every slow cycle.

Naia began to tremble as Vendr neared his limit, the tune slowing down to a crawl and dropping in tone to something like a lusty moan. She held it though, to her credit. Vendr prepared for his imminent orgasm, and closed his eyes to concentrate on Naia's voice. He reached the apex of another arc into the baphomet's small body and every nerve ending in his glans felt a current of electric pleasure flow through it.

Vendr's thoughts were thrown to the far corners of the earth and his body seemed to disconnect from them. Something like a blade piercing the back of his skull hit him and he lost his ability to hold his orgasm back any longer. A voice struck through his head like a bolt of lightning to send a flash of light before his eyes. His vision filled with thousands of sparks.

He came hard enough for his eyes to cross and his mouth to open in awe. His erection throbbed wholeheartedly each time a ropey strand of semen burbled forth from its head, filling Naia's body again and again and again. Vendr couldn't rub two thoughts together if his life depended on it. The only thing that stuck was the image of Naia with her head tilted toward the darkened sky, her back arched and clawed hands tearing into his thighs as his hands gripped her hips with white knuckles.

It was a long, silent moment before Vendr's ears stopped ringing enough for him to hear the panting and ragged breathing that filled his small tent with noise. He looked blearily down his chest at Naia, who sat motionless on his throbbing arousal with her arms hanging loosely to her sides and head tilted skyward. That was her breathing, the ragged noise.

Vendr shook his head to clear it. That was some kind of psychic scream that had sent him to the ground with enough force to break his thoughts. Watching Naia's heavy, labored breathing, he realized what had happened. His lips split into a wide, mirthful grin.

"I..." Naia began in utter confusion.

Vendr sat up and hugged her body to his, panting wearily. "I've made a chanter out of you." To that, Naia's looked straight up at him from his lap and furrowed her brow.

"That was a chant?" she questioned, a twinge of hope in her voice.

Vendr chuckled, amused. "One syllable does not a chant make." Naia's hope faded with that, but Vendr only grinned wider. "But a chanter it does."

The baphomet's lips split into a grin to match his own and they sat in their small world of still breathing and silent company for a long while, not needing words to fill the air, not needing actions to carry thoughts adrift.

But, it was not to last forever. Vendr lifted Naia off his fading arousal gingerly and set her back down on the various pelts and skins she'd been huddled beneath earlier. He wrapped her up in them and put his hand on her head.

"Ple..." the baphomet paused as Vendr tilted his head to the side. "Please return, lord."

Vendr stood up and nodded down at the girl. "I expect progress when I return." He grabbed his pack and rummaged through it for a bulb of torridroot, handing it to Naia. "It may help ease your mind."

She nodded. "Yes lord. Thank you, lord." Vendr fastened the pelts and furs over his body again and left his small, simple quarters without further interaction with the baphomet. He picked up his axe again and called for the fresh, rested half of his troops to assemble. Half his cavalry company and the auxiliaries Fentin had put under his command stood at attention.

"We move to block Two-Tails' retreat through the mountains now. Fentin is in pursuit already. We may have a chance to snap our jaws shut on Two-Tails before he can escape."

They affirmed with a low reply and gathered their weapons and the lighter armor. Vendr would have liked to outfit his men with heavy plate and chainmail, but the situation didn't allow for safety, only silence. Leather jerkins and skullcaps were the most common amongst his men now, and even sandals had been done away with in favor of bare feet. Vendr himself wore no armor at all and had only his two pelts to keep him from freezing in the cold of the night's cycle.

When they were ready, the company and auxiliaries began their march south through the mountainous terrain to catch Two Tails' column on the Old Road that ran the inner side of the southern ridge of the mountains. With luck, they'd be able to hook the head of the column and stop it in its entirety.

Leaving the small camp's firelight, the night enveloped them, closing in around the group as they moved. At the raiding party's head, Vendr was met by one of his subordinates, Grial. The demon wasn't very physically imposing, and his accent was less-than-suited for being a member of minor nobility. His normal toothy grin was gone now, replaced with the serious look he drew about himself when he dwelled on upcoming combat.

"Itta been better fer you if y'd rested, m'lord," he said.

Vendr arched a brow at the small demon. "War does not allow rest when it is needed, only when it is permitted."

Grial grunted. "Still, a night's turn wi' no sleep, draws outa giant faster 'n'a mouse."

"Duly noted," Vendr replied, feeling an edge in his tone.

Grial fell off a bit after that and left Vendr's presence completely shortly thereafter. The captain was in no mood to be lectured by the demon who considered himself to be the company's conscience. Even if he was right, Vendr had no interest in being told he should have slept rather than give Naia a voice.

He pushed on with his troops without further interruptions. The night dragged on as they marched across inhospitable terrain and scaled two solid cliff faces to reach their destination on time. It seemed like years before they could hear the low rumble of an army on the march in the distance.

Almost as soon as the familiar rumble reached their ears, every demon in the party tightened up physically and dropped into a low crouch. Vendr even caught himself doing it. It was nearly an instinct after so many hundreds of years of warfare, to assume the stance of a night raider about to meet his foes. A low crouch with arms tucked in and head driven forward.