Yrba's Travels Pt. 06

"Mirca! Don't you —!" she shrieked.

Mirca's breathing became spasmodic, and she squeezed her words out through clenched teeth. "It's — okay! Put her — down on one! Then — push into the — underside or — I'll spread out — too far! C'mon — Yrba, ride it!"

Yrba clung to the hot, oblong sphere of Mirca's left breast that filled up under her, while the right one bloated just across the yawning cleavage that her arm and legs almost disappeared into. She dug her heels and outspread arms into the skin, clinging to the rising flesh like a bad bareback rider on a prancing horse. What had started out as an almost horizontal, maybe two yards long melon-shaped giant pillow rose and swelled right out of her grip into a mountainous slope, and she began to slip backwards.

"Aiieee—!"she shrieked as she slipped down, and then Mirca's strong hands caught her widespread thighs, broke her slide and lowered her crotch gently on her half-opened lips. All her pent-up panic dissolved in a single gasp as Mirca's nubby tentacle laughingly called a tongue slapped against her vulva broad-sided, lapping again and again from her belly to her rear until her crotch was coated in mucous, hot saliva. And just when she thought she'd climax from that dripping patch going over and over and —how does she do that?!— cupping her labia, Mirca pulled its whole length oh-so-slowly through her crack, wiggled the tip a few times over the witch's swollen button and then dug it just half an inch into the puckered entrance to her vagina.

Yrba held her breath and did the widest split she could. It went much easier than she'd expected, thanks to the incessantly swelling ball she clung to. Her fleshy outer flaps opened as the sinews of her spread legs tugged at her crotch. Mirca put her head forward, and her big mouth engulfed Yrba's labia front to back. As the witch exhaled, the blonde shoved her fleshy muscular organ inside the dripping tunnel; it slid in as a thick, fat pole and as it stretched longer and thinner, she made it go round and round against Yrba's inner folds. Panting, eyelids fluttering, the witch held on to the quaking ball of a breast for dear life while the agile muscle reamed her pussy clean and the tip finally poked against her cervix.

"Gllls, I'll mgwush fwoom!" mumbled Mirca, shoving her slippery tongue into her friend to the very last inch. "Ymma, fgweef!"

Somehow, even as her brain was dripping out through her crotch, Yrba picked up the "squeeze" and dug her shaking arms and legs into her mount. With her head pressed against the throbbing, glowing, sweaty skin, the onset of Mirca's mighty milk discharge began as a dark rumbling in her ears that spread all over the orb. The milk ducts under her pulsated in a St. Vitus dance of ecstasy normally reserved for ejaculating males. And that was how Yrba tumbled into her own climax, her hands and legs clutching a horse-sized, spewing and spewing piece of throbbing meat between her thighs that only slowly shrank away under her and gently lowered her down to the floor. Mirca's head, her hair drenched in sweat, came to a rest on Yrba's lower back. She caressed the witch's flanks and breasts.

"Huh? Huh?" she mumbled happily while her arousal slowly waned. "That was something, huh? They'll not forget us in a hurry."

The other girls, glazed over with milk, still kept on licking and rubbing each other clean in front of them.

Yrba rolled on her back and caught her breath. "Ooohyes!You think we could repeat this every evening? I've never felt so relaxed in my whole life!" She giggled. "I can't even feel my legs now!"

Mirca stared at her with wide-open eyes. "Everyeveni—?! Oh comeon!"

~

Chapter 28: The Chain Mail

~

Mirca fidgeted mutely in her seat on the cart and stared into the landscape that slowly rolled by, until she asked: "Uh, so this is your carriage?"

Yrba smiled and didn't turn her head to the girl's hulking shape by her side. The brown-skinned witch just glanced at her pupil's big hands. Mirca nervously twisted her fingers, then she scratched her head over her ear.

"Whatdoyou want to ask, darling?" Yrba cooingly replied, in her softest, most soothing voice.

"Wuh—wha— um, ah, h—how did you know I —," Mirca stuttered.

"— Wanted to ask something different? For one, youknowit's my cart.Ourcart. You helped me stock it, so you really just wanted to start talking to ease up before you asked what youactuallywanted to ask."

Mirca blushed. "My,you'resmart! It's about, I wondered — that wooden chest in the back and those heavy rolls with the string around —"

Yrba pulled at the reins.

~

"So these are," and Mirca choked up for a moment, "B—Berry's last gifts to us?"

The witch sighed and pulled the last wrapped-up bundle from the cart. "Yes. She never said who should get what, but — you were closest, size-wise, so Red and me decided you'll get what pieces of armor there were."

"And those swords?" Mirca bowed down. Her fingers closed around a handle, and the rope wound tightly around the metal core feltrightin her hand. The blade whispered from the sheath, and Mirca gazed at her reflection in the polished metal. She grabbed the second one. The two edges touched with ashhhhinnngggg.

"Uh, why are they for me?"

"I wouldn't know who else could even begin to handle —watch it!" Yrba ducked out of the way as the two-yards blades whistled about. Mirca finished her pirouette and stood, spread-legged, with one hand around the handle of each broadsword, weighing them in her grip like toys.

"Huh?" She raised her head and lifted her eyebrows.

"You almost beheaded me!"

"Oh come on!" Mirca pouted. "There was a whole hand's breadth between!"

Yrba gulped. "Without looking? You can say thatwithout looking and while whirling around?"

Mirca shrugged. "Well, Iknowwhere you are and where I am. And swords, they're just like big axes, only longer. You never were scared of my axe when I chopped wood."

The blades clanged to the ground as something else caught the young woman's attention. Mirca knelt down and dug into the depths of the chest. Her face brightened in delight. She giggled and raised a vest-like garment apparently woven from the essence ofglitter.

"Look at this! It's like a metal shirtfor ladies! Oh Yrba, it's so shiny and feels so smooth! Come and help me put this on!"

She pulled at the laces on her gown, and moments later, the cloth hung around her hips. Her breasts' bronze skin glowed in the sunlight, and with quick fingers, she filled her protruding cones' malleable flesh into the pair of huge cups on the metallic bodice. Yrba narrowed her eyes against the sun's bright reflections all over the garment and shuddered. Her face screwed up with some ... memories.

"You sure? I tried that stuff once.Ugh! Chain mail on naked skin isn't all that comfortable. I had chafed teats for a whole week!"

"But I want to," Mirca pouted, and Yrba sighed resignedly.

"All right, turn around. Maybe your nipples are tougher than mine."

The clasps clicked shut, and the blonde jiggled her shoulders. The whole item jingled faintly as it settled on Mirca's round mounds.

"Tee-hee! Isn't it cute?" She turned to Yrba and grinned. "It tickles all over! My, it really clings to my tits! See how they wobble? And it's not so col—cooo—gods!"

Mirca's eyes grew big. The jingling stopped with a suddenslapof expanding flesh connecting to something unyielding. Metal groaned and creaked quietly between the young woman's loud gasps. The edges of the sparkling garment dug into her swelling skin.

"Taut," she whispered, staring into the distance. "Uuuuuh. Yes.Haaaaahh! P—pressure.Uuunngh!Swelling.Yiii—yes! Trapped. Inside. C—c—can't ... need to ... oh this feels sogood ..."

She slowly sank to her knees and bent over backwards, rolling her shoulders frantically, bucking into the garment again and again. Yrba rushed to her side and propped the young woman's jerking torso up against her drawn-up knee as Mirca writhed in her arms.

"Mirca! Talk to me! Hold on!"

"Full ... so full ... ohheavens— now —mmmmh!— the heat, I must —"

Mirca's voice was barely audible. Sitting on her haunches, she spread her legs wide, dug her fingers into her skirt and grabbed her crotch, kneading her sex through the rough wool. The textile turned dark with wetness. Her face lit up with growing excitement as she closed her eyes and her mouth spread into a wide, contorted grin while she raced through her first climax.

"So much, full, need to, I must, again," she stammered, saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth. She straightened and arched backwards, then she curled up again in spasms of delight only to rise again seconds later. The throbbing, pulsing flesh of her breasts threw itself against the silvery cage like a raging animal, again and again.

"Wait, I'll get it off —" Yrba groaned through clenched teeth, struggling with the girl's shifting, wiggling weight while she fished blindly for the garment's clasps in Mirca's back.

"Ouch! Dammit!" she cursed only moments later. Mirca bucked again in her embrace, and suddenly, Yrba's fingers were caught between Mirca's back and the unyielding, tight-stretched metal band of the top. "Raaaaaah—!"

"Huuuuunnngh!" groaned the shivering bundle of muscles in her grip as the next orgasm turned her fierce thrusts into spasms of excitement.

Hissss. Hisss. Hisss.

Jets of milk sprayed from Mirca's nipples and bubbled through the intricate mesh of tiny rings, the waves coming in sync with her jerks and twists.

"Ahhhhh...," she exhaled as the white cascade vented the delicious and yet unbearable pressure inside her. The torrent ran down her chest and over her belly before it soaked into her skirt.

"—Ungh!" Yrba's fingers finally came free. The clasps remained tightly locked under the pull and pressure of the constrained flesh of Mirca's thwarted breasts. As the hissing and bubbling subsided and the girl's breathing returned to a deep, slowing rumble in her chest, the witch managed to loosen them. With a chink, the wrapper snapped off and two white, drained sacks of glands and skin spilled forward and avalanched out over Mirca's thighs until the still dripping, bloated nipples slapped down into the rough grass before her knees. She shivered one more time at the tickling touch.

Yrba kneaded her aching fingers.

"Well, now we know how Berry filled those cups," she muttered. "How come you didn't blow this thing to smithereens?" She picked up the jingling net of metal rings and turned it left and right. "Can't see anything magical about it, though itmusthave some in it to withstand that strain. Weird. There's got to be some trick to it, but we better not try that again."

"Oh come on! Itwaskinda tight, and that felt really great!" Mirca panted, pursing her lips while she slowly reined her expanded milk sacks in, kneading and pushing her funbags back into vaguely human shape and size. "I want to have another go! It was like when you pull and lift a big basket of wood and then you hold it and put it down again and your arms and legs suddenly become, like, all light and you feel good and stronger."

Yrba rummaged the chest, and when she straightened up again, she held another of the metallic bustiers in her hands. This one shone in bands of golden-white colors, matching Mirca's mane.

"You want another go? Great! We'll keep on trying, because one of thosehasto be just plain chain mail."

~

Chapter 29: Misunderestimated

~

Yrba looked up from the mending she was busy with. They had set up camp in a small clearing by the roadside just half an hour ago. The sun was setting fast now, and in the week that had passed since they'd left Red and her harlots behind, the looming chills of winter had returned in earnest. Luckily, they were heading south. Maybe they could even outrun the change of seasons this time. Across the low mountains, the coast lands waited with their temperate weather. But the roads were treacherous, and she still was halfway inclined to stick to her original plan of weathering the warrants on their heads somewhere in the western wildlands where news, travelers and villages were sparse.

The road had been empty during the last days. That's why she wasn't too happy to hear the approaching hoofbeats.Many. Half a dozen? Not quite in a hurry, but not riding for fun either. Clatter and jingle of light armor. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Mirca, don't say a word and keep your face down. Seriously!" she whispered to her companion. The blonde nodded fearfully.

"Do you think they'll —"

"I don't know. Not the first time I've talked my way out of a tight spot, so relax. Don't sit so close to me. Go over to the fireplace, I'll stay on the cart's stairs. And keep your hands on your — you know."

The scene was set.

~

"Yo! Fellow travelers looking to make this a resting place!"

Yrba looked up. The group of men on horseback didn't seem like fellow travelers to her. Mercenaries, maybe. Freelancers, or worse.Make no mistakes now. These guys are big trouble,grouched the little voice in her head that had saved her more than once before.Resting place can mean a lot of things...

She pointed around the empty clearing.

"Can hardly keep you from unmounting then, can I?" she replied.

~

After they tied up their horses, the men sat down and began to joke noisily by the fireplace while they tended to their weapons. Mirca lowered her face further and crept deeper into her cowl. The leader of the gang slowly walked over to Yrba and leaned on the cart, bowing down ever so slightly as he adressed her.

"Hey, traveller, you bored? I've got quite the tale, I tell you! Ever heard of the brothel at Peterstown?"

Red. Oh dear, old girl, what have you done this time?Outwardly, Yrba shrugged. "Never heard of it. And I don't care. Do I look like I'm cursed with a dick? What wouldIdo at a cathouse?"

He straightened up and turned his head towards the fireplace, where the monk cowered, and then looked at her again from the corner of his eyes.

"Hada bawd, must've been your age. Now whathad beenher name —"

Ice crept down her spine, but Yrba cut him off. Sheknewher voice didn't tremble and was just the grumpy whine of a tired traveler. "Don't know, don't care, mercenary. I need to finish the repairs while there's still some daylight." She avoided his stare and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the stitching.

"Been a house of the devil, is what they said. Lewd, unnatural acts those girls did."

She put her tools down and her hands on her hips.

"Come on. Why are you prattling on about some whorehouse somewhere? Huh? Do I look like I care?"

He ignored her protest. "Was quite the fracas when the guards seized them all. Found a hidden stash between the floors, and a secret room. Funny thing, their shop blew not because of their heathen ways, but because they had smuggled arms into the town. Well, the lord got mightily pissed and had them questioned meticulously." He laughed. "There was a little yellow-skinned girl with them. I heard they didn't manage to get a confession out of her, and she even managed to run once. Must've cracked her own ribs just to squeeze out between the cell's bars. They found her crouching in front of a weird old temple where she was wailing to some depraved god for help. Freaky little lizard, that chick. Not even breaking her legs on the rack opened her mouth. The tall tits wench finally caved in and screamed the names we're now looking for. Took them long enough. Haven't seen tough lasses like that for ages. Peter's dungeons were a bit tougher, though."

The tendons on the back of Yrba's hands showed when she picked up the string and needle again, but her voice remained calm, and her fingers didn't shake.

"ThatI believe at once. I stay away from that shire. I've heard that Lord Peter's an — unyielding ruler."

"You bet! And he was right about them, wouldn't y'know? Theywerein league with the devil!"

"The devil.Sure."

"Don't believe me? Half the castle's in bits and pieces now, and the rest's just about to crash down! Happened just as the hangman was getting ready. Heh, even had to put a chair on the trapdoor, for that yellow chick, cause she couldn't stand upright any more. Guessthatwas a first for him, too. They were all banged up pretty badly, the whole bunch. Bawd had almost no face left, yellow chick a cripple. Brunette beanstalk, whistled with every breath. Ribs bashed in. Coughed blood all over her clothes. The others, a few fingers gone here, a few toes gone there. Really, the gallows would've been a mercy for them." He laughed again, meaner this time. "Peter's soldiers! Amateurs, the lot o' them. Me boys and me, we could've taught them a thing or two. Could've showed them where itreallyhurts without mangling them so much that they're no fun anymore."

"And then?"

"Ah? Getting curious now, aren't you? Well, best part's to come! Let me tell you, just as the hangman got ready, there's thishuuugebird blotting the sun, only it's no bird! And down swoops this horned, winged she-demon, tall as a house and black like Evil itself. Lands smack dab on the courtyard, sends the walls trembling with her monstrous weight, and she's got glowing white cracks and unholy symbols and something like lizard's scales all over her body and shoots lightning from her hands! Plucks their bodies from the gallows one by one like grapes, swallows them whole. And then ahugefireball and smoke and thunder and a cloud rising to the firmament, and nothing left of the whole courtyard at all! They said the walls turned intoglassfrom the demon's hellfire, and the whole yard is but a huge hole like from a giant orb!"

Yrba laughed. "Ohplease!Old wives' tales! I knew it!"

"Well, really? The walls have turned to glass all right, I tell ya! I was there not an hour afterwards when all the stones still glowed! The lord got away just in time. Losing the castle hasn't made him any less angry. Has doubled the reward."

"Then I guess I better keep an eye open looking for those two runaways. I could use the money."

He looked at her and scratched his chin.

"You're not doing too bad even without it, I'll say. Cart is well maintained, horse is no bag o' bones. Oh, let's drop theact. You're the one they call 'honest Yrba'. Don't bother denying it. Ain't too many darkskins around these lands."

"No, it's justYrba. Don't need to announce my honesty. People around here already know I'm an honest trader. — Hold it. I'm still sitting here. No daggers, no ropes, no chains around me, and you're not as dumb as you're trying to sound. Sowhat do you want?"

He casually leaned against the cart now and stared intently at his dirty fingernails. Even hisvoicesmirked now. "Those kind of bad stories may fly fast,justYrba. Stories like that oddity at Lord Peter's castle. Stories like that price on your head. And on the sweet blonde's empty skull over there, hiding under that cowl. Pathetic disguise, really. You put her on stilts to make people think she's tall like a man? Stupid idea, old crone." He chuckled. "Anyway, such tales are bad for business. Always were, always will be. I don't care if you're in league with the devil. I've sent a whole lot o' souls his way myself. But inthisworld, a piece of gold's a piece of gold. And I take it your business is doing well. Let's call it amerger. Better to have an egg a day than slaughtering the chicken. Still can do that when she doesn't lay golden eggs any more."