Yrba's Travels Pt. 03

Yrba frowned. "O—kay. Like I said, not that I'd even have tried to do that with you. I don't even have dangly bits, sweetie. So what's your problem then?"

"With dangly bits? No problem. I'm just afraid of the sexing."

The witch pinched her eyes.

"But — hold it, we're talking at cross purposes here. Tell me, what do you mean when you say sexing?"

And then Mirca told her, facing away, talking into the dark room, her voice a brittle whisper and devoid of any emotion. She told her of a night long ago, a few weeks after she had first walked through the castle's gates at the hand of a brute solider, when she had woken, couldn't get to sleep and aimlessly wandered through the sparsely lit corridors until she heard something and followed the sounds.

After five minutes of listening, Yrba beckoned her to stop. She gulped hard to force down the bile in her throat and shook her head. Her brown skin had taken on an ashen sheen.

Mirca stared down on her hands. "And ... and then ... the blood, everywhere, and that woman, she was still alive, for a while, and ... "

Her voice failed. She just sat there in the flickering candlelight, cross-legged, stooped, staring at her palms that rested on her knees.

Yrba made her way over on all fours, clutched the trembling hulk of a girl and cupped Mirca's head against her shoulder. The cold wetness of the blonde's tears crept into her skin.

"No! No, that's all wrong! Mirca, they lied to you. That's not sexing. What you saw ... that wasn't ... I," she stammered through gnashed teeth, "they — Gods, may those sick bastards burn!"

She held the angelic face gently in her hands and looked into Mirca's fearful eyes.

"Trust me, they lied to you. They only wanted to be mean. I will teach you better than those filthy pigs. Oh gods, what have they done to you. They've got your mind all twisted and mixed-up. I won't have that. No, I won't, for the life of me. You deserve better, much better. Now come back to the bed. First lesson. Being close is okay. Come with me, girl. I'll keep you safe. You'll feel better in no time."

She spooned up against the shivering, huge body and drew a tiny sigil on Mirca's sweaty skin. The shiver died down as the huge girl drifted into a peaceful sleep.

"And remember," she whispered into Mirca's hair, "whatever you want or need of me, just ask. I'll be there for you."

--

Chapter 14: For A Fistful Of Ooze

--

Fast, quiet knocking came from the back door, followed by a whisper.

"Quick! Open the door! Oh heavens, open the door before someone sees me!"

Red drummed a short staccato on one of the wooden supports and listened until the hushed noises of Mirca hiding up the attic subsided before she let the veiled, nervous woman in. The cheap cloak of the visitor parted and revealed expensive clothes.

"Lady Mayor, welcome. Is it that time again?"

The woman grabbed Red's arm. "Yes! Yes! I need it. I need it so bad! Oh please, I'll pay whatever you want! Just let the little yellow-skin have me!"

Red nodded and cupped the middle aged woman's face. "My dear, you know the price is the same as always. Up front, as always, too."

A handful of gold coins quickly changed pockets. Red nodded.

"Thank you. Li! Your favorite client! The special stuff! If you'll follow me, I'll show you to her room."

"Don't bother, I know the way."

The bawd nodded. "Of course you do. Enjoy your stay!"

--

"Uh, okay," muttered Yrba, who had followed the conversation hiding behind the kitchen's open door, as Red entered the room again. "I'm not sure I'm getting it. That was a woman, mighty important one, judging from her clothes. Shouldn't men come here?"

"Should. Some still do. But most of them are pressed into Lord Peter's army and are far away. Most of our clients are the local women. We're also a bathing house, y'know? It's not just all rolling in the sheets, Ybbie. Well, things led to other things, word of mouth got around that we can be pretty, uh — helpful for tense women, too. Guess what? We're making a killing on them! It's much easier on us, too. I mean, screwing the marrow from a guy is fun, but you can only do it so often in a row before you start walking funny, no matter how good your salves are, Yrba. With women, I can lick day and night and won't ache all over come next morning. And for most of the women, they reason it's not cheating if they don't lay with other men."

"At least it'll not leave them with a mystery child down the road. Who was that noblewoman?"

"Her?" Red glanced at the ceiling. A delighted moan already filtered through the wood. "Mayor's wife. Seven children in seven years. Got to her snatch. Now she doesn't feel a thing when her husband mounts her. She's so wide, you could smuggle a log in her. Poor dame. Still got a lot of urge in her, just can't get it out. Li's just the right one for her. Our little yellow devil has a special trick for the spacious ones. Want to peek?" She rolled her eyes to the stairs and lifted her eyebrows. "Huh? Maybe learn a thing or two from our most exotic lovebird?"

--

The witch stared in rapt silence through the small hole in the wall and watched the mayor's wife thrash and flail wildly on top of the wide bed. The woman knelt on the mattress, leaning forward with her shoulders on the pillows, her head turned sideways and her arms splayed wide. She clawed her fingers into the sheets. Foam dripped from the corner of her mouth. Li sat behind her raised, wide hip. One of the eastern girl's hands had the woman's fleshy buttock in its grip while the other moved back and forth mercilessly. Yrba gulped and whispered to Red who leant on the wall beside her, her voice barely audible over the moans and screams from the other room:

"Wow. Her fist? Gods, now she — how deep is she inside her? I'd never have thought that'd work." The witch eyed the couple hungrily and ran her hand over her belly. "All that boasting you did about your sucking stamina got me thinking, Red. I need your help."

The bawd smiled and whispered back in her ear: "You're not going to tell me you've grown wet from that little show, willya? A seasoned pro like you?"

"Yes. No. Uh, sort of. No, what I mean is I've got to get back in the potions business. Can't just sit around here. Once they let up searching for me, we'll be on our way. But I need something to trade with. Too bad the season's already over for the herbs I need most. Did you keep the empty vials of tincture around like I told you?"

"Of course."

Yrba smirked and raised her eyebrows. She pulled the shirt out of her skirt and patted the barely noticeable protrusion of her naked belly. "Good. I want you to check if there's some left at the bottom of the barrel."

--

"Uhhhnnn—," moaned the Mayor's wife, squeezing her last air from her burning lungs until she finally inhaled again. Her hands patted weakly on the pillows as she beckoned Li to stop the dogged and voluminous pumping. Her drawn-up knees slipped apart and slowly lowered her hip down on the soaked and crumpled sheets. She rested on her belly, her arms splayed wide. Every now and then, a shudder turned into a nervous twitch that made her whole body jerk ever so slightly. With another groan of deeply satisfied desire, she slanted her hip to prolong the precious touch as Li slowly drew her slender fingers out of the distended cave. Foaming liquid seeped from the wrinkly tube and dripped down the folds, wetting the swollen clitoris.

Still panting hard, she rolled on her back and stared into Li's dark eyes.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, my dear. You're a godsend! How can I ever repay you?" she gushed and reached out for the diminutive woman. Li stepped up to her. The mature lady, attractive in her fertile roundness' own way, laid her hands on Li's shoulders and looked at her from under her eyebrows.

"No pay me, Lady Mayor. Pay Red, all good," Li answered politely.

"Call me Barbara, dear. Forget that stupid 'Lady Mayor'. When I'm in your bed, I'm at your mercy and not your ruler. Is there nothing I can do for you? You know, for you alone. A perk."

Li cocked her head and pondered for a few moments.

"You have bale of silk? Have wool?" she finally asked. "I want do sewing clothes for good friend. Silk hard to get, these times."

Barbara drew her down on her burning body and engulfed her in her breast's abundance.

"I'll see what I can do for you, my lovely. Just rest with me now until our hour's over."

--

"Oh by the seeeeven swo—oooooaaahhhoooo—rrrrds of aaaaa—Adereth!" groaned Yrba, her hands clutching Red's head that bobbed between her thighs. "Suck harder! There mu—uuuuooooahhhh—must be something left yiiiiii—in there!"

"Mmmmpphh," was the unintelligible reply of her friend. Red's middle finger dug deep into Yrba's folds, and as it slid back out, the woman pressed her lips on the opening and sucked until her head turned red. She wrestled free from Yrba's grip, grabbed a tiny vial from the table Yrba sat on, pouted her lips and put them over the glassware. A greenish drop of slime, mixed with foam and saliva, dripped from her lips and collected at the bottom of the vial. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Ewww. Bleagh. Sorry, Yrb. That's the last of it. You're empty. Not exactly a dried-up well, I'll give you that, but that's not potion dripping any more. You're having so much fun here, I should bill you by the hour! What did you just try, shove me all the way up your womb? Some of us need to breathe every now and then, you know?"

The witch held her head and stared at the meager harvest of half a dozen vials, panic tinting her voice. "That's all? Six vials? — I'm done for. Oh heavens, I'm done for. I thought I'd just — the last few days, I had time to think this through — I'm dead. Dead! I've just not stopped moving! The — The cart is gone. They're searching for me everywhere. By now, my face is on every damn warrant from here to the coast. And I've got nothing to sell, and without a ride, I can't reach any of my stashes. Oh please, Red, try it again. One last time. Maybe —"

Red sighed and dove back into Yrba's crotch, squeezing her pursed lips between the aroused and engorged folds of the witch.

--

"Red, there's — eeeyuck!" Berry stopped dead in the doorway and flinched as she saw the two women.

"Red!" she exclaimed angrily after a moment's pause and put one hand on her slanted hip while she gesticulated wildly with the other. "Oh come on! Couldn't you've gone to one of the rooms?! That's our fuckin' kitchen table! Other people want to eat on that, y'know! Uh, eat food, I mean, and not —" She hesitated and leant forward, staring at the line of vials. "Now what the hell are you doing there? Playing hide the vials or what?"

"Nothing! Get out, you ox!" shrieked Yrba.

"All right, all right! Sheesh!" Berry raised her hands in defense, shook her head and sneered, "damned touchy dykes! You ain't doing nothing I've not seen a dozen times before." The vials on the table jingled when she slammed the door behind her. "That wasn't very nice, Yrb!" Red chimed in as she stood up, wiping moisture from her chin.

The witch calmed down again after the short fit of panic. Witchery tended to very quickly sort out those people that were prone to long fits of panic. A long fit of panic while facing a mistrustful guard or clutching a spell gone awry more often than not meant there wouldn't be another fit of panic long or short, ever. She took a deep breath.

"I just don't want everyone to know how I make the tincture, m'kay? You think I'd sell as much if my clients knew where it comes from?"

"You still got no business sense, Ybbie. You know how weird customers can be? I guess you'd lose half of them if they knew, but the other half would pay thrice as much just for kicks. My, look at you. Brown as chocolate, never any undies, your tits so full to almost burst out of your neckline, and yet you spend most of the year as abstinent as the most devoted monk, fermenting your magic stuff in your own womb."

Yrba smiled wearily. "Well, I haven't got much of a choice. At least I try to play catch up during the rest of the year."

"I'm just saying. If you'd label it 'Yrba's All-Herbal Fermented Pussy Juice', I guess you'd not be able to hold enough to satisfy the demand."

--

Chapter 15: Squeezed Dry

--

The light of morning shone through the attic's tiny windows. Mirca stirred in Yrba's embrace and gently freed her ample breasts from the witch's grip. Another night over, nothing had happened, and the huge blonde felt a shudder of either relief or the coolness of the attic's air run over her body. She hadn't panicked at being held tight either. All in all, it had been her best night in years. She stretched her arms, wiggled her body back up against Yrba and waited for the sound of the witch's lips' faint smacking and the usual groans and moans indicating that the night owl reluctantly came alive again.

After a long-drawn groan, the Darkskin woman rasped "mmmmmorning," rolled to her side, rose to her right elbow and scratched her messed-up mane with her other hand. She opened her eyes and jerked ever so slightly when she found Mirca had turned around and inspected her up close.

"What's the matter?" she inquired.

Mirca gnawed on her lower lip.

"Uh, I, I — but you've got to promise you won't get angry, okay?"

Yrba sighed and absently weighed her own, somewhat bloated breasts. What the fuck? I've not chewed any herbs for weeks, how come they're already full again? Ah well, nothing a little quality time and a rub and a squeeze won't fix, she pondered while waiting for the words to line up in the blonde's head.

"Uh, right, see — they are all so crazy about this whole sucking on my tits thing, ever since you grew me that pair. I — I don't get it. But I want to get it. I tried to suck on them myself, but it just doesn't feel like much. So I, I," Mirca stuttered and hesitated.

"— I want to suck on yours to see what it's like. In the cell, it was all a blur, I barely remember it," she finally blurted out.

"You're laughing about me!" she wailed moments later and rolled about, ready to rise and bolt. Yrba reached for her and pulled her back down on the mattress. Still giggling, she smiled into the big, worried face in front of her and shook her head.

"Mirca, darling, I don't laugh about you. It's just so funny, because I'm feeling really full right now, and you'd do me a great favor, draining some of that. Go ahead, grab them and drink up."

"Uh, and I'd like to really look at you first for a little while, y'know?" the blonde reluctantly replied. "I mean, you're nice, but really weird, with that brownish skin and those thick lips and that hair and —," she poked the slightly knobby tip of Yrba's nose, "— and you're just so different."

Yrba threw back the blanket. This wasn't the first time she heard those words, but they always reminded her how far from her birthplace she was. And that there would never be a home to return to. She sighed and drew her hand along her hourglass contour. "Well, go ahead then."

Mirca inched down along the motionless figure on hands and knees, marveling at the two flattened melons that now hung straight away from Yrba's chest and sagged down on the mattress like a pile of two well-stuffed but still slightly soft bags. She felt the warmth radiating from the witch's naked body on the sensitive skin of her upper lip and sniffed with closed eyes. Her tongue sneaked out and drew a short, wet line over the depression where Yrba's now almost nonexistent belly met her ribcage. The witch chuckled.

"Salty," Mirca whispered. "And you smell — unusual. A little like spices, like the kitchen pans after when the lord ordered roasted meat. Smells good. I like it." Her lips pressed up against the underside of Yrba's breasts, and she gently drew a little of the skin into her mouth. Yrba bit her lips in delight.

Mirca opened her eyes and marveled at the subtle changes in the brown skin tone, running her palm over the depression of the waist and up again to the wide, rounded hip. Her fingernails scraped gently over the witch's ripe buttocks. Yrba winced slightly as her ticklish skin sent jolts along her muscles, and a little louder as the blonde's big hand and splayed fingers grabbed the whole of the round cheek. Her fingers kneaded playfully.

"Feels soft and comfy. You used to sit a lot on your cart, didn't you?" she giggled. Yrba narrowed her eyes and tensed her rear's muscles. The blonde looked surprised. "Oh wow. That's something!" Her smile returned. She reached about and slapped her own sizable rear. "Mine's harder, though."

Mirca's hand returned to the witch's hip, slid down the midriff to the navel, and her index finger prodded into the hole.

"Your belly's almost gone. My, you're weird. Not a week ago, you were like a big bladder and all jiggly in front. I never saw someone lose so much roundness so quickly. Uh, and now your skin is turning almost black towards the curls, where your legs meet."

Yrba closed her eyes and focused entirely on the rousing touch of the blonde's fingernails and the trace of her hot breath as both wandered down her meaty thighs. Mirca's fingers dove into the depressions in the back of her knees. She grabbed the skin above and below the knee and gently pulled at it.

"I knew it!" she declared. "You get darker when you shrink and wrinkle! That's why your breasts are so chocolate-like and brighter. They're all taut and full now, much fuller than yesterday."

"Then do something about it!" groaned Yrba, clenching her hands into fists. A tremble crept over her body. She quickly neared the point where the teasing, tender strokes of her curious, oversized onlooker would become unbearable and she'd have to get release, by her own fingers if all else failed.

Mirca moved upwards and stopped at the witch's crotch. She sniffed again as she caught a familiar whiff.

"You smell like — like something wet? Ew! Did you — no, wait. That's coming from the other opening. You smell almost like Suzy tasted. Only somewhat better. Why?"

Yrba didn't answer but for a throaty groan dripping with arousal. Mirca narrowed her eyes. Suddenly, her face lightened up.

"A—hah! So this is, like, that sex thing, that you talked about last night? That we women get moist when — but I barely touched you!"

"Do something!" panted the witch. "Drink my breasts or my crotch, but please, please, stop teasing me!"

"I'm not teasing you!" Mirca protested. "I'm just touching and rubbing and talking and — and that's teasing? Uh. Oh. Oh my. Okay, right, let me..."

She moved her head closer and turned it left and right, trying to align her mouth better. "No, not like that... got to try... ah! This should wommmg."

She wedged her one hand between the witch's leg and the mattress. With her other hand she grabbed the upper part of Yrba's thighs, held them close together and forced her tongue into the tiny gap that remained just beneath the witch's crotch. The nubby, wet tentacle slid through the matted curls and rubbed along the whole length of Yrba's overexcited labia until it poked out at the other end of her crotch and waggled between her butt cheeks. It retracted and thickened, curved sideways and probed for the witch's entrance. Squelching and smacking, it disappeared into the moist opening.

Yrba lost it right on the spot. She shook and moaned, ramrod straight. And like a huge metal pipe suspended in the middle and struck hard, her whole body trembled and rang from the orgasmic pounding's waves rushing out of her center. Her juices dribbled out by the handful, mingling with Mirca's saliva and drenching her crotch.