Spirited Away

It's good to be an adventurer.

My fur-lined hide boots fell on the muddy cobblestone street with a muffled clomping as my plate armor chafed ever so slightly against my joints. My trusty longbow hung on my back where it's always been, my arrows clacking together in a quiver hung by my hip. The frosty air wisped past my exposed head, nipping at me ears, but I smiled against it; I was in my own element, here in Iceburg. Growing up, I've smiled in the face of weather colder than this. Around me, cackling children played in snow-caked cottages while peasants stayed warm and comfortable under their homemade parkas, shuffling off to do one thing or another.

I smiled whenever I could. It's a nice sort of smile. It, along with my shining cascades of light brown hair and striking cobalt eyes, had caught the eyes of more than a few passing women that day alone. None of them had said anything to me, but that was hardly unusual.

Then, just as I prepared to leave town and continue my meandering journey east, one of them did.

The minute I saw her, I knew she was something special. While the rest of us were content to wear no fewer than two layers of thick, furry hide, she wore a set of delightfully skimpy cloth underclothes beneath a see-through dress that sparkled like newfallen snow in the sun. Her footwear looked like a cross between a sandal and a boot, adorned with a quartet of icy jewels, and a strange, deep blue flower accented her striking blonde hair. A strangely large, chipped jewel hung on a necklace around her neck.

Just looking at her made me cold. Then it made me hot. Yet, striding through the streets at a brisk pace, she seemed completely unaware of the effect her outfit had on half of the bystanders.

Just as I prepared to dismiss her, she spotted me, then dashed for me and slid to a stop.

"Are you Jens Ophthanørth?" she asked, in a voice light with exhaustion.

"That's not actually my surname," I corrected, embarrassed. "I just mentioned it at a party once and it stuck. No one realized that I was just kidding."

The woman tilted her head, not knowing what to think.

"Are you looking for the Jens who helped the knight of Snefolk reclaim the Sword of the Crystalmancers two years ago?"

"Yes, him!" the woman exclaimed.

"Then I'm your man," I affirmed.

On that line, the woman cracked a smile I couldn't decipher.

"What can I do for you?" I prompted.

"I'll explain it along the way," she promised, "but if you can go anywhere northeast, I need you to come with me now."

"Really?" I reacted. "Well, I can go that way. But I'd make better time if I could stop to have lunch first, though."

"Please, do so with all haste," she implored.

"There's a diner right there," I indicated. "I won't be long."

"I shall wait here."

"You don't want to come in?"

"I require no food," she excused.

I gave her a strange stare.

"Please hurry," she added.

Nodding, I jogged into the diner.

Just a few minutes later, I hurried out, my belly full and my muscles ready.

For a few seconds, I didn't see her. Looking around, I found her sitting against the wall of the diner, moving her hands carefully in front of her and chanting something with her eyes closed. When I stepped near her, my hair stood on end.

"I'm ready to go," I reported.

She shot to her feet.

"Excellent. Follow me."

Businesslike, I walked behind the strangely clad woman as she led me out of town, into the savage northeastern tundra.

"Let me tell you how this all began..." she offered.

"Finally," I thought.

* * *

Manya worked in her small shelter of ice perfectly hidden in a snowdrift. While the wind howled and the monsters prowled outside, she very carefully wove cosmic elements together and applied them, one by one, to the special herb that sat in a bowl on her table. All was going well.

Then Manya felt something strange in the air. At first, she dismissed it, then she felt a ringing in her ears. All at once, she put it together- it was a brewing teleportation spell.

With frantic haste, she put away her herb and started the lengthy incantation for a magic dispersion, but, even as she did, she knew it was fruitless. A third of the way through her attempt, her world flashed through a quick medley of colors, and she stumbled.

Manya looked around. She stood in an icy pit, its walls made of stone or perhaps even iron. Aside from a single dead tree in the middle, she was in an empty bowl. Above, there was nothing but cloudless, starry night sky.

Manya knew where she was. Confirming her fear, she saw the wraithlike forms of spirits glide overhead and descend upon her. She spooled up her meager repertoire of combat spells.

Landing in a ring around her, the spirits burrowed into the ground.

Manya stopped. She had never seen this before.

A moment later, a dozen pale, featureless human bodies rose from the ground, shuddered, then wandered toward her.

Before Manya could decide what to do, one of the bodies lunged after her, snagging her wrist and pulling her toward the rim of the pit. As it did, her other arm flung out, only to be seized by another one of her antagonists and pulled with equal force, yanking her taught.

Just as it occurred to her to kick, unbreakable hands clamped around her ankles and pulled her legs apart, her feet sliding on the icy dirt as her spreading legs lifted up her skirt.

Despite her predicament, she could not help but be embarrassed.

All at once, the four human bodies holding her halted, then turned to stone with a crackling noise, the warmth of the hands dissipating in an instant. The rest of the bodies vanished.

Trapped in a macabre stone frame, Manya struggled uselessly for a few moments, then fell limp.

The spirits reappeared. Swirling together in front of her, they coalesced into one spinning, glowing column, then stopped. Where they had vanished stood a man, remarkably tall and with broad shoulders, but with thin limbs and a narrow face. His hair was black and long, tied back in a braid that ended at the small of his back. A subtle, sinister grin permeated his calm face.

Reaching forward, the man effortlessly pulled down her underwear, leaving her helplessly spread womanhood visible through her dress, caressed by the cool air.

For one moment, Manya pulled once more against the stone hands that held her limbs apart, offering her sex to him. Then she felt the warmth of his flesh press against her. Letting out a gasp, she stared into the eyes of the mysterious human form. They gazed calmly back at her over that same predatory smile.

"What?" she gasped. "What are you- oooh... mmmph..."

She felt his fingers apply a smooth pressure on her femininity, and a web of pleasure radiated from his push, causing her to moan softly. Artfully, the man continued to massage her until, inevitably, he felt her moisture on his hand. Pulling it out, he showed it to her, smiling evilly, then licking it suggestively.

"...more..." Manya airily whispered, briefly forgetting herself.

Just as she said this, she felt a smooth, oblong object pushed into her, driving all coherent thought from her mind as pleasure washed through her brain.

Then she felt the object move.

"Wh... what?"

In stunned silence, she felt the thing move on its own up into her body, seeming to melt as it did, deforming into a smooth trickle as it slithered into her deepest recesses.

"Yessssss," the spirit man hissed, seeing her reaction. "The Träldom Jewel. It is in you."

"What's it... what did you do?" she whimpered, panting.

"It will control you," uttered the man, his grin deepening. "You must obey its urges, or it will dominate you."

"I don't understand..."

The man chuckled.

"You will," he sinisterly promised. "Now, I return you to your domain. But first, a reward for your submission."

"Submission? No... I didn't... ohhhhhhhh..."

Before she could make her case, her back arched and she groand rapturously as a forceful orgasm rolled through her body, moistening her dress. Her mind descended into a fog.

When she lifted from the mental obscurity, her limbs were free again, and most of her clothes were on, but her pussy was bare. Looking around, she saw the familiar sight of her den.

"Remember," the voice echoed in her ears, "obey the urges."

Manya sat still, baffled, trying to grasp what she had just experienced, before shaking her head and standing up to continue her research. It occurred to her to cover her vagina, but, for some reason, she did not want to.

Studiously, Manya returned to her spellcrafting, but she could not focus. She was uncomfortably hot. At first, she suspected a malfunction in the spell she had been using to stay warm. Eventually, however, she realized that the heat was coming in rippling waves from within. Without thinking, she brought her hand down to the source.

Half of an hour later, she sat back against the wall of her den, a hot, throbbing, soaked mess, her hand buried in her womanhood. She let out a frustrated moan; after all that, she had had no orgasm. She began to wonder if something was wrong with her.

Reluctantly, she hobbled back up to her feet, then lurched to her desk, where she found her little-used tome of curses. Pulling it out, she flipped frantically to the index.

"What had he called it?" she thought to herself, struggling to maintain coherent thought while her pussy cried out for satiation.

"Yes, that's it," she said aloud, "The Träldom jewel."

With shaking hands, she found that name, then paged to it, quickly scanning through the variety of curses it could impart. Only one of them seemed to match her symptoms.

"Oh dear," she moaned, reading it.

* * *

"The curse caused my arousal," Manya narrated. "That was no surprise. But what I wasn't expecting was the condition. I could not masturbate, but I could still have sex, even though I was sterile. Every time I slept with a man, it dispelled the effect, and I could think straight again. But the arousal did not go away for long. It was usually a week before I needed another man."

"So where do I come in?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"I can't keep leaving my hovel for more sex," she explained. "I've gotten almost nothing done since those spirits put that jewel in me. We are to raid their lair and eradicate them. If that alone does not depower the jewel, there will be materials there that can."

"Sounds good," I approved. "How far are they?"

"A few days' march," Manya explained.

"And you've slept around recently?" I asked.

"Um... yes."

"You'll be good to go, then?" I deduced. "Excellent."

With that, we dropped the subject. For the rest of the day, we made sporadic conversation about our respective trades. I told Manya of my adventures all across the land, and the many strange people I had met. She, in turn, told me about magic and its mechanics, about the history of magic and the confusing forms it takes depending on the nature of the being using it. Then, she told me about spirits, her voice quivering at first. She told me of all the chaos they had caused and the power they had amassed. When I asked her if anyone else fully knew of their threat or was fighting them, she merely shrugged her shoulders.

On the first night, I slept beneath an old, travel-worn blanket. I considered offering this to Manya, but she merely strengthened her warmth spell and slept in her thin, airy garb.

The next morning, she seemed tired, and she walked as though her feet were sore. She spoke sparsely, but only seemed to want me to talk more than ever. I obliged her.

Then, that night, something strange happened. I drifted halfway between wakefulness and sleep, comfortable as always, sleeping under the stars as I had a thousand times before. Not far from me, I heard Manya shuffling, but thought nothing of it. Then, I heard her sit up.

Looking lazily over, I saw her kneel and place her hand low directly in front of her. She then pumped her arm quickly. Realizing what she was doing, I rolled over to give her some privacy and thought nothing more of it.

A few minutes later, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Startled, I looked up, only to see relax upon seeing Manya. Just as I lay my head back down, I felt her other hand on me, a circle of heat against my skin.

"Manya?" I uttered. "What is it?"

Hot breath huffed onto my skin. Once she had me on my back, Manya clambered like a spider down my body.

"Manya?" I repeated, "What are you doing?"

She pulled at my codpiece.

"Manya, wake up!" I urged. "You're sleepwalking!"

"Ohhhh," I heard her breathe. "Too hot... please..."

Crab-walking backwards, I hurried away from her grasp and stood up.

"Manya, can you hear me?" I appealed. "Snap out of it!"

"Jens, please," Manya groaned, her legs trembling. "I can't control it anymore."

"I'll have sex with you if you want," I offered, "but you need to control yourself while we do."

As her answer, Manya lunged at me. Bracing myself, I brought up my arms to stop her, only to see a bright, magical flash, followed by the sensation of a paralyzing shock rippling through me. I stiffened up, then collapsed.

My body would not respond. Helpless, I listened as Manya clawed at my codpiece, then pulled it away, before grabbing my manhood with both hands and pulling at it. Despite her excessive forcefulness, it rose for her. The very next moment, she brought her soaked caldera down on me, sending a rolling wave of forced pleasure coursing through my nonresponsive body. With the vigor of a woman on fire, she bucked up and down furiously, causing me to convulse slightly every time she came down on me. Her juice got everywhere.

Finally, after a length of time that could not have been more than a few minutes but felt like half of an hour, she pitched back and screamed as an orgasm finally escaped her, gushing more of her liquids onto my still-defenseless body.

For a few precious seconds, she stopped, panting and gripping her forehead, before starting up again, piling onto me over and over, making more noise than was safe until, at last, she loudly came again, then slumped over me. Her body seethed with lasting heat and dripped with sweat. Her breath was irregular and almost painfully hot, condensing into a dense cloud of fog every time she exhaled.

After a few breaths, Manya rolled off of me. As she did, I felt control of my nervous system returning to me, followed by the immediate sensation of my penis clenching as the muscles just above my testicles tightened. My face contorted and I curled up slightly, clenching the snowy grass in my fists as, belatedly, my masculinity emptied itself into the air, squirting for at least a second, lathering my already-soaked tunic and leggings. A soon as I finished, I collapsed again.

A few seconds passed.

"Ugh," I heard Manya groan. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Exhausted, I did not respond, trusting my appearance to speak for itself.

"Oh gods!" Manya exclaimed, seeing me. "Are you hurt?"

Letting out a long grunt of exertion as I sat up, I grabbed my discarded codpiece and strapped it back onto my armor.

"Just how long have you gone without getting laid?" I grumbled, palming my eyes.

Manya looked guilty.

"Well... I thought I could handle it..." she lamely excused.

"Yeah, but how long has it been?" I pursued.

Manya bowed her head.

"Ten days," she whispered, quiet as a mouse.

"Ten days?" I repeated. "Look, if you can't control yourself after seven, you shouldn't come out here without a release and- I cannot stress this enough- I would have helped you with that when you were still lucid."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I really wanted to be stronger than the curse."

"I understand that," I sympathized, "but curses can't be beaten like that. Playing by their rules is nothing to be ashamed of- especially not while you're working to dispel them."

"Okay," Manya demurely accepted.

"Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes."

"Alright then," I concluded. "Let's get some more sleep."

With that, I wiped the juices from my clothes as well as I could, recovered my blanket and tried to sleep again, feeling Manya's eyes on me for minutes until she, too, reclined in the snow. Silence reigned again.

The next morning, guilt lingered on Manya's complexion while I stood up, but she made no mention of last night's incident.

"Shall we go?" I offered.

"Yes," Manya accepted. "It should be within a day's march."

"Good."

We marched with little conversation. This far northeast, the skies looked wrong, and the terrain was desolate, featuring even fewer trees than before. The trees that did grow in these lands looked twisted and sickly. The wind picked up and whisked thin clouds of dusty snow across the steppes as the terrain grew more and more jagged.

At some seemingly random point, Manya stopped and announced, "We're here."

Looking around, I started, seeing us to be standing it exactly the same basin that Manya had described.

"What do we do now?" I asked.

"Put your hands together behind you."

Complying, I heard a flash of magic, then felt my wrists bound together by some cold, solid substance.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

Grabbing my wrists, she planted her foot on the back of my knees, causing them to buckle and forcing me to kneel. The very next moment, my ankles were locked together by the same device.

"What is this?" I demanded. "We're here to fight the spirits!"

With a snap of Manya's finger, something round and slightly plush filled my mouth, reducing my speech to grunts and moans.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "but we're not here to fight. You can't fight spirits. When I was first here, they told me that I could cure the curse by offering them a sacrifice."

My eyes narrowed. Looking up, I saw the wispy white forms of spirits gliding in from beyond.

Manya opened her arms and shouted, "I have done as you commanded! Your tribute is here!"

I struggled uselessly, trying to look dignified as the spirits all drifted to the ground about twenty paces in front of us and morphed into nude human forms. For a few seconds, they whispered to one another incomprehensibly.

Three wispy rings formed in the air around Manya, then slowly contracted. She put up no resistance until they tightened around her wrists, ankles and mouth, then solidified. She fell to her knees.

"MMMMH!" she furiously protested, "MPHHRRRRPH!"

"Ha," I thought.

The spirits lumbered toward us, the men trending toward her and the women toward me. The leading male spirit held his erect penis and pressed it tauntingly to Manya's cheek.

"Foolish girl," he mumbled, his voice echoing and reverberating. "You thought we would just let you leave?"

Some of the female spirits stroked themselves as they stared down at me.

"To the Chamber of Playthings!" announced one of them.

There was a white flash, and, suddenly, Manya and I knelt in a small crystal cave, mysterious structures rising to the ceiling around us. My bonds had teleported with me, I noticed, but my clothes had not.

On the other side of the cavern, the male spirits gathered around Manya and, I moan heard moans drift from their midst. In front of me, the female spirits grabbed my limbs, effortlessly separating my bonds into bracelets and anklets, before laying me down. As soon as the cold rings contacted the smooth, clear crystal floor, they fused with it. Immobilized, I could only look up as the first of the female spirits climbed on top of me.

With a little yelp of pleasure, she slid herself onto my erection and started pumping up and down, sending sensational waves rushing through my already clouded mind.

Feeling my gag lift away, I looked up hopefully, only to see another female spirit lowering her warm pussy onto my mouth, smothering me in her moist musk.