Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 27

When she reached out one strong hand to grab his wet erection, it became clear to Zhair'lo how his evening was planned.

As she stood up, he recognized, even in his inebriated state, the rock hard leg muscles of a Tight woman. She straddled him, as Aloe had, and pushed her tiny orange bikini bottom to the side of her genitals. She then impaled herself on him far more quickly than he had expected.

"Oh, she did get you nice and wet, Soldier-boy," the woman admired. "But it's my job to make you come."

'And yet,' Zhair'lo thought, 'Aloe told me to hold out as long as I could.'

The woman's immensely powerful thigh muscles locked around his back, embedding him as deeply inside as he could go. She'd had Within upgrades, too, and he felt those working at him, squeezing and trembling up his length.

"Swelling up," she murmured. "So good. What will they say of me, that I went first and made you come? I intend to disappoint the next in line."

Zhair'lo perceived a contest in progress, and blearily accepted it in his mind. The women wanted to force an orgasm from him and expected him to do his best to deny them.

For some uncountable length of time, they strove against each other, her legs and vaginal muscles against only his willpower.

"Come on!" the woman insisted. "Give me some of that come!"

Behind her, a few more women laughed and looked on with interest as the one on his erection continue to rock and violently twist at him.

"Aggie, Aggie!" one of the women mocked her. "Time's up."

"Gods damn it," the one they'd called Aggie removed herself from his erection abruptly and without ceremony.

Behind her was another woman in yellow. This one wore a stranded skirt in the more traditional style, where the strands were thin almost to the point of being grass. Zhair'lo noted she had already exposed one of her breasts, a nice handful. She wore the single sash of an Adept and had somehow lost the bikini top that should have been underneath it.

"Name's Atiya," she said curtly, her clipped tone telling him that this was all the introduction he'd be getting.

As Aloe and 'Aggie' before her, Atiya climbed over Zhair'lo to put her feet on the ground under the table at his back and sank herself down to envelope him.

The repeated penetrations, passing the tight ring of entry three times now, took their toll on Zhair'lo. How long could he fight this? Did the contest even have a point?

'No matter,' he thought. 'If they want to test me, I'll beat them.'

It occurred to him it might not be possible for anyone but a woman to claim victory. Eventually he would ejaculate inside one of them, wouldn't he? There had to be dozens of women and only the four newly graduated Soldiers to pass around.

At the very least, Atiya didn't have any Within upgrades. A distant part of his mind, operating behind the veil of alcohol, acknowledged one upgrade each of Abundance and Strength. He felt his senses going numb as Atiya's gyrations set her exposed breast bouncing up and down in his face.

'These women,' he noted, 'are all very tall.'

Zhair'lo knew her most potent weapons were her lips, and he could keep her from kissing him if he kept his head down. But that left him staring at that mesmerizing, oscillating breast with it's dark little nipple, stiffly at attention.

A raucous roar, of male and female voices, went up from some other corner of the room and a single female voice shrieked in triumph. Zhair'lo wondered which of his fellows had fallen already.

"Hup, hup," someone called from behind Atiya.

"Damn," she resigned, ceasing her gyrations.

"That's three!" someone else called out at Atiya gingerly removed herself from his cock.

Another woman, a grey-eyed blonde wearing orange double sashes across her slim chest and nothing below the waist, stepped into position.

"Four is quite enough for you, young man," she chastised in a deeply antagonistic teacher's voice. "It's time for you call it a night."

Zhair'lo took this for bravado and the mead gave him the courage to fight off such attempts at intimidation. Her experience caused him greater fear. The double sashes in orange meant an Acolyte II, which came with a whole host of upgrades in all sorts of Disciplines. Zhair'lo's eyes told him none of those had gone to increase the size of her breasts, but everything else about her was advanced far beyond anything in his experience.

Zhair'lo nearly choked as her vaginal muscles clamped down on his erection. She did things inside her body that no woman had ever managed before. Swirling sensations greeted him, even as her hips gyrated and she forced her tongue into his mouth. An overpowering scent assaulted his nostrils.

Surely this would break him. He felt a tingling sensation at the base of his erection, working it's way deeper into his body. He felt a deep desire to let it shiver up the length of his shaft. Never had such a fine body been presented to him as a place to release himself.

But Zhair'lo didn't let go. He wouldn't have it. His hatred for the Temple was stronger than his lust.

He sank his fingers into the woman's back, clinging to her body as he would hang on to the edge of a cliff. Greeted by the abyss of failure should he give up, he rode out the insane woman's attentions. He felt his brain shutting down. Could he pass out from this effort? His vision sparkled and he started to see black dots.

'I'm not breathing,' he realized and inhaled deeply, which vanquished the black spots.

"Hup, hup," another female voice called out, and he heard a cracking sound from behind the Acolyte II.

She harumphed and dismounted him in disappointment, rubbing at her rear where the next in line had just spanked her.

From another part of the room, he heard a screech of triumph and a cheer, which was quickly followed by another. Renzi, Kit and Z'rus had all given in, then? Only Zhair'lo remained.

'Can I stop, then? Is this victory?'

But he couldn't stop and he knew it. All of his strength and willpower would deny them, because the Temple brought this to him as a contest of wills. As much as he might like the players themselves, this game didn't belong to them as individuals. The women who took their turns at his erection constituted pieces on a board, pawns to be used and discarded. His battle remained with the ones in charge, the ones who'd made the rules keeping Talla from him. Through his drunken, sexually charged haze, this crystal clear fact held fast.

He meant to win this.

Zhair'lo faded in and out as women took their turns straddling him and taking his erection inside their bodies. Occasionally, just before fucking him, one would lean down to taste the myriad juices that had been left on him. The small bits of his mind that still functioned kept track of the numbers they shouted every time a woman left him.

There was an unusually long respite after he distinctly heard the number "eight".

"There's barely anything left of you in there," a deep rumbling voice came from the dark-skinned woman who had appeared in front of him.

"Ji'ann," he mumbled in recognition, unable to remember the proper honorific for the situation.

'Should I use 'Mistress' or 'Chief' when an endless string of women are fucking me in the mess hall?' he wondered.

Zhair'lo felt no surprise when the large woman mounted him, sliding her dark skin around his body and locking him into place. As an Officer she had countless unknown upgrades which she put quickly to work. She opened her blouse to him, first burying his head in her breasts before giving him her black nipples to suckle upon.

But still, he wouldn't come. His cock had numbed from the work they'd put into him. Heavy handed vaginal twisting and turning simply couldn't do the job.

Ji'ann took his chin in hand.

"He's done, Mistress," a soft voice came in from the side. "Let him know."

A light exhale that somehow indicated respect came out of the larger woman and she stood up and off of him.

"Who, then?" Ji'ann rumbled.

"Me," the soft voice answered. "I started it."

He recognized Aloe. Sweet, soft Aloe appeared in front of him again.

"Zhair'lo," she said. "It's okay. You're done. That's nine and no one ever does nine. It's okay now. You win."

A smile crossed his lips, but he really felt like exploding, or possibly just dying.

'Dying would be comfortable,' he thought. 'Peaceful and quiet.'

Aloe knelt on the floor.

"It's okay, now, Zhair'lo," she whispered. "You can come."

The juices of nine woman adorned his erection, and he knew Aloe tasted them all when she took him into her mouth. The tight, hard working muscles of the Form women had numbed him, but the gentle tongue work of a Facial woman could bring him to orgasm.

The head of his shaft pushed at the back of her throat and he felt her tongue go wide and lively against the sensitive spot on the underside.

Zhair'lo sighed in relief. Orgasm would finally come to him.

"Poor bastard," someone said, but it was respect.

He relented then, knowing he'd beaten the Temple, at least at this one ridiculous game, and let Aloe's effort succeed.

He felt his body jerk and he grunted, feeling his semen launch itself directly into the gentle woman's throat. She didn't miss a beat, continuing to work him with hand, lips and tongue until she'd drained him completely.

"Poor thing," Aloe lamented, putting his underwear back in place.

A couple of the older men patted him on the back and a round of applause saluted him

A glass of water made its way into his hand. Zhair'lo tried to make some gesture of gratitude, but his parched throat made more urgent demands so he drank instead.

His vision started to glaze over and he stared mindlessly across several tables at a torch on the wall. It been lit near the beginning of Master Kendrick's speech, so it burned steadily now and Zhair'lo let its colours mesmerize him.

Once, a long time ago, he'd apprenticed to a blacksmith, so he knew a thing or two about fires and what fed them and why they burned. Zhair'lo remembered his old Master explaining the importance of air flow in maintaining a fire. You couldn't have a flame without fresh air coming in, but at the same time you didn't want to lose all the heat generated.

Getting air to a torch didn't cause anyone a problem, of course. The heat took the smoke and flame upwards and easily available fresh air swooped in. Campfires could be tricky, if particularly dumb campers built them in a really poorly shaped pit.

'But with the right air flow,' Zhair'lo thought, 'you could burn just about - '

He gulped down a mouthful of water and sat bolt up right.

'Talla!' he shouted in his mind. 'Talla!'

A burning pain shot back at him from over forests and Temple walls.

'Gods damn it, Zhair'lo! What the hell?' Talla's protested with a shriek inside his head.

'It's a furnace!'

'What?'

'Nine hells, Talla. It's a furnace!'

Not only did Talla clearly not understand what he meant, she also began to doubt his mental condition.

'Are you drunk?'

'Very, but that doesn't matter.'

'Then what about a furnace?'

'Talla, we've been thinking all wrong. You've been trying to find a way to steal the Synergist and you don't need to.'

'I don't?'

'No. You just need to destroy it.'

There was a pause and he felt the mill stone grinding its way around as her mind realized the conclusion he had reached.

'You just need to destroy the Synergist, Talla,' he repeated. 'And they've done half the work for you because they've built a gods damned furnace right underneath it!'