!
Roger stood alongside the packed dirt road, in his full Arcastrian disguise, watching Flare ride over the low hill. She had told him that Elfthring was "about an hour's walk" on the other side of that hill. She had insisted that they separate, for Arcastrians just did not ride with Elves-or any female.
Why? he had asked as they lay before the smoldering post-breakfast fire at their campsite earlier that morning.
"Oh," she said simply while her dwarfed hand, cum-strands swinging from her knuckles, slowly jacked up and down his furiously stiff, bloated sex pole. "They are traders and collectors."
"Eh!" Roger winced, his pole lurching as her fingers, barely able to get half way around his slab sided meat, stroked over his crown, making his cock belch another 10 Milliliters of coiled Elf-breakfast. As his latest donation to Elf nutrition drooled greasily over her knuckles, Roger temporarily got his voice back, "W...What to they...ah!... trade..."
Not missing a male devastating stroke, Flare brightly replied, "Why, females, of course!" She sped up her jacking perceptibly.
"Uh!" Roger gasped, feeling her other hand grip his balls. "Females...geez!...what...females..."
"Why, silly," she grinned, her hand turning into a blur on his jumping prick, "they collect and trade in females! You know, women, women, too, and, of course, Elves of all kinds! Don't you want to know why?" She ogled his doomed prick.
Roger's head dropped back to the log in defeat. "Yes...OOH!...Don't stop, please!"
"I'll never stop serving you, M'Lord!" Flare said, leaning towards his cock while starting up her murderous ball milking. "They collect and trade females for our 'sex wrestling' clubs! It is a major entertainment in our towns; defeating female contestants with sex! It is such good sport to force another female into unwilling, unwanted orgasm before a hundred howling, cheering lesbians!
Maybe, if you're real good to me, I'll let you see a match! You men are such voyeurs, especially the married ones! But now you must surrender to me, My Lord! Cum, cum for me!"
And Roger obeyed, spewing a foot long, finger thick strand of steaming, wormy ball-juice right across her descending face. Before she could orally capture his pulsing glans, he had strands of wormy gunk hanging from her nose and cheeks.
Then Roger could only moan pitifully and unload, for the second time that morning, into the Elf's greedy maw.
After he had recovered, and Flare had cleaned herself off, she had explained that no self respecting free Woman or Elf would be found dead riding with an Arcastrian. Being with an Arcastrian was the image of slavery!
He started up the road, following in Flare's tracks. It had been a good morning.
And a good evening before. She had been true to her word, once their chores had been completed and darkness had fallen. She had been the first into the bedroll that evening. As he climbed in she abruptly threw her feet up till they were alongside her long, pointed ears, sank her talons into her own full buttmeat and pulled her buttocks far, far apart.
"Climb upon and mount me, Sire! Take me!" she whispered ardently. "I'm yours! Do what you want!"
Climb upon her!
This place was great!
Roger was awed, staring down at the luscious doll, completely open and offered up to him. Her wide, almond eyes locked with his, and, with her fervent pleas for physical joining of the raunchiest kind, sent emotions surging through him that smothered any rational thought he still retained. He could barely rationalize what he was doing as he quickly complied with the obscene orders her eyes and lips were giving him.
But, when he pressed his more than ready cockhead into her more that wet pussy, she vigorously shook her head.
"The other opening, M'Lord!" she gasped, offering up her spread tail.
Roger, seized with testosterone and all too male mating madness, simply and stupidly stared at her wide open sexual openings thrust up at him by the increasingly desperate Elf.
Flare, after a moment of watching him snorting and foaming at the mouth over her charms, took matters into her own hands. Reaching down between her thighs, she gripped his monstrously endowed organ and pushed it down between her full, tight buttocks.
She nodded eagerly up at him.
As if cured of his stupor, Roger looked from his cock poised at the entrance to her asshole to her anxious, hungry face. "Well, if you insist!" he replied with a wide, primate grin.
Eagerly, and quite mindlessly, he complied with her wishes.
The rest was red hot, lung emptying, bowel filling buttfuck.
As he strode up the hill Roger promised himself to do that again with Flare, as soon they rejoined in Elfthring!
With his memories improving his zest for walking, so as to get to where Flare was to meet him, he picked up his pace. Again, the going was easy, even with his disguise on. His strides were nearly effortless and he didn't so much as break a sweat as he reached the crest of the hill.
Maybe he didn't want to go back to his old life!
He paused just a moment to reconnoiter the area. Just as Flare had said, off in the distance, a mile or so, he could make out spires and rooftops rising above the top of another, somewhat lower, hill.
"Elfthring, at last!" he said with false bravado.
He spied a rider, approximately half way between the two hills, moving away.
"Flare," he breathed, recalling the look on her face when he zipped his...er...Loki's Divine Prick up her, splitting apart her bulging buttocks and driving dramatically up into her guts.
As he was staring wistfully at the lush form of his retreating Elf-pie, Roger felt a sudden burst of air, an abrupt but brief eruption of a breeze, coming from behind him. Startled, he turned to see a figure standing behind and across the road from him.
From the long, brown hair streaming out the edges of the hood, he surmised the person to be a woman. She wore a hooded, full length overcoat that went to the ground and was open in front. Underneath she wore clothes not unlike his: a loose, light brown pull over shirt and tight, though not as tight as Flare's notorious butt huggers, forest green pants.
Her face was mostly hidden under the hood. She turned to face him, and spoke tentatively, "Fellow traveler, I am looking for...ah...a person, somewhat unique to these parts, that goes by the name of 'Roger'..."
Roger couldn't believe his ears! Ms. Hobson! Why didn't she recognize him?
Then he remember his disguise! Pulling his hood back, he spoke, "Hello, Ms. Hobson! It's me, Roger!"
She did likewise, smiling surprise on her face. "Roger, you are still alive!" She stepped forward and embraced him!
He hugged her back. "Yes! You're 'gift' certainly saved me!" He noticed that the formerly middle aged Ms. Hobson looked younger! Even half as old as she did back at her shop!
"I hoped it would!" She stepped back. "I'm sorry, but I don't have much time!" She fished into a inner pocket of her coat, pulling out an approximately six inch diameter golden pendant on a golden chain. "Have you seen Desiree?"
Roger stared at her.
"No, of course you haven't! You'd be dead if you had! Well, she found the shop, back on Earth! I barely escaped her! But she is too close to me, so I have to hide here, in Lokin. Some old friends, who I dare not tell you, for it would endanger you even further, will hide me. Desiree would do worse things than death to you to get their names!
"But I have to give you something first! Very important, or I wouldn't have taken the chance meeting with you!" She handed him the blazing golden disk. "This is the Amulet of Frigg! Have you ever heard of the Brisingamen?"
Taking the talisman, Roger shook his head.
"I haven't time to explain the whole thing, but the Amulet has directions on where the Brisingamen is hidden and how to free it from its supernatural safe. The Brisingamen is a golden necklace stolen from a Goddess called Freya by another Goddess, Frigg, wife of Odin...
"I know! Norse gods, Vikings, it sounds like fairy tales and mythology, but here it is true! Believe me! The necklace has some spell on it that really obsesses and terrifies the mythical beings around here! But since no one who's touched it has been able to activate the spell, no one knows what it does!
"My husband, before Desiree killed him, had a theory that it makes men into Gods! Something about that Loki had put his divinity into it! I'm not sure about that part of the theory, but I am certain that my husband was correct when he said that a man, a human male, is the only being that can access the spell! It could very well be a means to bring back or replace Loki! He was a sexist bastard and wouldn't give any real power to any female!"
Roger looked at the back of the amulet. There were markings, vaguely like runes, that he couldn't come close to reading. "The markings..."
"It's the ancient Elvish language, used by Loki himself in his dealings with the other Gods and Goddesses, five thousand years ago! Only certain Elves and Archmages in the Magic Schools can read it! And Elfthring has one of the oldest of these schools. There must be Mages there that could translate it! But they mustn't take it from you! You must keep it! Only you, or some other man of which their are not any, can use the Brisingamen! You must get it translated and then get the Brisingamen! Now, I have to go!"
"How can I contact you?"
"We must never meet again!" She replied, panic in her voice. "Neither of us can resist Desiree! At least, not until you find the secret of the Brisingamen!" She stepped back four paces to the other side of the road.
Then the sound of hoof beats reached their ears.
Both turned towards Elfthring. There was a rider, charging up the hill at full gallop.
Roger instantly recognized the rider. "Flare!" he cried. Then he saw her sword, held high over her head!
"Who's that?" Ms. Hobson cried, also seeing the sword.
"No! Flare, no!" was all Roger cried as the Guild Elf came rushing on.
The horse passed between them at breakneck speed. Flare, however, leaped from her mount a good ten feet short of Roger and Ms. Hobson. Flying independently from her horse, facing Ms. Hobson, Flare brought her sword slashing down in a blur.
Just as she was even with Ms. Hobson.
The woman screamed, falling back as the sword just missed her nose. Once Flare passed her, Ms. Hobson continued to fall upon her back.
Roger, wide eyed, gawked as Ms. Hobson's shirt and pants split in two, slashed perfectly from her neck to her crotch! As she fell her rent pants conveniently fell to her ankles, revealing a remarkably youthful, bald pussy and plump buns. A very nice pair of sucksacks popped out of her neatly divided blouse.
Flare, meanwhile, flew another six feet before hitting the ground. Rolling deftly, she lithely jumped up as if she had not just jumped off a six foot high horse at twenty miles an hour. There was an ominously furious scowl on her face.
She immediately charged back at the down woman.
"Flare!" Roger gasped, seeing the glistening sword still in her hand.
"Quiet!" she barked back at him, taking only the briefest glance at him. She continued towards the now down Ms. Hobson.
Ms. Hobson looked up at the onrushing Flare, unbridled terror on her face. "No! Please! I meant no harm..."
Flare glared down at her, pointing her sword at the completely terrorized woman. "Bitch! You leave him...her alone!"
Ms. Hobson, nearly naked, looked at Roger, "Roger, help me! Do you know her? Don't let her..."
"You know him?!" Flare roared in her high pitched voice. "No way! He's mine!" Then she thrust her sword into the ground next to the shaking woman.
Flare looked briefly at a petrified Roger. "This is what we do to women who try to interfere with our...partners!" Turning back, the Elf thrust her right hand between Ms. Hobson's firm, surprisingly youthful thighs.
Ms. Hobson wailed as her head fell back and her hands frantically gripped the grass at her hips. Eyes wide and white, she stared up into the sky as her legs jerked and thrashed.
Roger could see Flare's hand slide far between the woman's thighs, almost disappearing into her bald pussy. Then he heard the squishy sounds of moist cunt being manipulated.
Expertly.
Ms. Hobson howled then, heaving her bare hips off the ground. Thrashing helplessly, her eyes rolled up as she desperately tried to catch her breath.
With her hips raised, Roger could see that Flare's hand was twisting and pulling on the woman's pink, furiously erect, little clit! Her hand, as well as Ms. Hobson's twat, was absolutely soaked with the woman's lube.
Properly prepared, Flare released Ms. Hobson's flaming red clit. Without hesitation, or waiting for the woman to drop her hips, the furious Elf balled her hand and began grinding her knuckles against the woman's puss hole.
"N...No! Please!" Ms. Hobson breathlessly pleaded, staring white eyed at the Elf. "PLEASE!"
Flare's gorgeous face formed the most evil gargoyle-like grin as she continued to grind away.
Roger saw Ms. Hobson's vividly pink and wet pussy begin to part for the Elf's assaulting fist. Her floppy, elongated labia began embracing Flare's knuckles! "Flare! You mustn't..."
Not stopping her assault, the Elf looked over her shoulder at Roger. "BE QUIET, if you know what is good for you! You'd let any tramp throw herself upon your divine... You just watch what happens to any bitch that tries to take you away from me! OOOO! You make me so... Faithless...unworthy... untrustworthy...mongrel...You are such a...a...a...MAN!"
She was back to using that word as a curse, again!
Roger shut up.
Flare looked back at the sweating, whimpering Ms. Hobson. "You wanted to be...penetrated? Okay, so be it!" And, with a powerful jab, popped her entire fist into Ms. Hobson's belly!
Oh, did the helpless woman howl! Did she scream in the agony of blissful penetration! She couldn't believe how good that fist felt! Just a little too big for comfort but, with her thoroughly drenched condition, there was little she could do to stop its plunge into her.
And into her it was going! Flare, with a triumphant "AAAAAH!", began pushing that swallowed fist right up Ms. Hobson's girl guts.
Roger saw a knot, a bulge, form in Ms. Hobson's belly, right above her jutting sex mound. Then, as Flare thrust, the knot rose up her belly towards her navel. On and on it went, in proportion to how much of Flare's forearm disappeared into woman belly.
Flare didn't stop until the knot was just a couple of inches below Ms. Hobson's navel and there were only a couple of inches of forearm left before Flare's elbow!
Ms. Hobson, teeth clenched and grinding, breathing fast and shallow through flared nostrils, looked now at Flare with a face of wonderment.
And total feminine bliss.
Everyone could see now just how...good Flare's buried arm felt!
When Flare pulled the arm back, then immediately rammed forward into Ms. Hobson's womb, the woman immediately broke. Wailing pitifully, legs flying open and raising straight up into the air, the woman submitted to Elven talent. Her belly jiggling like jello, the knot flying up and down the mid line, Ms. Hobson exploded in machine-gun orgasms.
Flare just fisted her, jabbing powerfully and with incredible rapidity. She forced the woman over the edge effortlessly, then kept her in mind destroying orgasm for long, horribly blissful moments. The sounds of Ms. Hobson's cunt sucking loudly and sloppily on Flare's belly stuffing, furiously jabbing fist mixed with the woman's hysterical wails of feminine defeat. Flare kept her cumming for a good five minutes.
To make sure she got the message about messing with her...cock of Loki!
But, almost exactly six minutes after she drove her sword blade into the ground, she briskly pulled her dripping arm and fist right out of the woman's guts!
The sloppy pop that accompanied the fist's exiting of Ms. Hobson echoed over the grassland.
"That should do it!" she exclaimed, breathing hard, leering down at Ms. Hobson.
The woman, honking and enjoying the now departed Elf's fist, humped air a good half dozen thrusts before her orgasms subsided. Then she just curled up into a fetal position and lay there, shaking and shuddering.
Flare disdainfully wiped her arm off on Ms. Hobson's cloak, then pulled her sword out of the ground. Sheathing it, she called her steed over and, mounting it, she looked at Roger. "Just remember, wait for me at the 'Inn of the Three Testicled Steed'! I'll have them expecting an Arcastrian this afternoon! And stay away from the Gymnasium that is across the road from the Inn! Furthermore, you'd better not think for a moment that I'm giving you free reign in Elfthring to use any of my Sisters or any other female you care to for your disgusting, degenerative, polygamous mating habits! If you haven't noticed, Elves are very possessive of their...mates!" Not waiting for a reply, she stirred her horse into a trot and was gone.
He looked at the nearly naked Ms. Hobson, who had regained some modicum of control over her orgasmic convulsions. But before he could step towards her, she raised her hand, "Stop! No closer! I told you Elves were dangerous! But don't worry about me! Take care of yourself! And get the amulet translated! Most important! Now, I must go! Good Luck!"
She mumbled something he could make out and, with another pop of rushing air, only this time towards where she had been, Ms. Hobson was gone.
Roger looked at the Amulet, then at the retreating figure of Flare. Hanging the Amulet around his neck, on the inside of his robe, he again started after Flare and Elfthring.
This place suddenly had lost some of its 'greatness'.
Hermione snorted, most unladylike, with the unexpected and unappreciated knock on her oaken door. Looking up from a parchment on 'Oral Sex Spells Originating with Lord Loki' to the meter tall hourglass steadfastly and nearly silently streaming sand, she thought, not without some irritation, "Didn't she tell them that she should not be disturbed?" The sand had not yet reached the line demarcating one hour past midmorning! Much too early for the call to the midday meal!
Reluctantly Hermione rose. Her study, three stories beneath street level in the most magic shielded level of Ginnungagap, otherwise known as the University of Mage Origins, the oldest school for Mages in the land, was chiseled out of solid bedrock with its walls lined with iron.
It was quite magic proof, as well as sound proof and, need she say, Dragon proof. No beta-spells could get out, no Dark Lord attacks could penetrate her three inch thick, cold iron walls.
Since the school, as well as her study, was nearly as old as Lord Loki's Reign, and Mages of any race rarely discarded anything, the girl had to walk around many a stack of three thousand year old parchments to get to the door.
It took time.
Therefore, whoever was at the door, would have to be patient.
Now, since one had to pass through the main hall, constantly crowded with students, faculty, visitors and other high personages, including a guard of ever suspicious and diligent Guild Elves, and then pass through an occulted doorway to descend three steep flights of stairs, also chiseled out of bedrock, lined with cold iron, and hardly that well illuminated, usually someone who knocked on her door had an exceptionally keen interest or mission, necessitating speaking directly with her.
A keen interest which Hermione took for granted. She had built quite a reputation for herself in a very short time here.
Hermione wasn't an Elf, rather quite human. A good head taller than a typical Elf, she still looked as young as the day she arrived in Alfheim from Hogwarts.
She was, indeed, an attractive woman-child. Light brown, billowing, almost bushy hair half way down her back was usually the first thing people noticed about her. Her cherub face and green eyes usually was the second. Then her breasts! Big, firm cones, easily 'C' cup, stuck straight out from her chest, utterly defying gravity without the least necessity for structural support. Vividly pink, perfectly conical, puffy nipples peaked each teat. Since she refused to wear anything but an outfit that resembled her Hogwarts' uniform, white blouse with sash and kilt, and since she refused to wear underwear (no one did in Alfheim), those beauties of hers stuck out through her semitransparent blouse like fog enshroud icebergs bobbing in a vertical sea.
Her hips were nice and wide (for a high school girl) her waist narrow, her belly flat. She had always worn her kilt scandalously short, rarely lower than mid thigh, so her athletically full thighs were displayed completely in their youthful, healthy delight.
Her impressively developed body had been the first practical use of her acquired Elven magic. But her dramatically improved physique, while instantly generating tons of envy in her fellow, often less voluptuous, classmates, was not what got her kicked out of Hogwarts.
But there was a price to pay for using Elven magic, she realized only after it was too late!
Hermione was a Mage, or witch back on Earth, in the service of Queen Layla of Alfheim. She would soon be an Archmage, she was confident, a rare position in the Elf kingdom for a high school aged human. She had proven herself, both here and at Hogwarts, to be most skilled in magic (both black and white) and alchemy, (both sexual and chemical) and therefore most valuable to Queen Layla.
It hadn't always been so. In fact, until just before she was expelled from Hogwarts, she was a very typical young witch-in-training, not especially impressive physically...
But she was gifted in the magical arts.
It was that talent that permitted her to discover the conduit into Hogwarts for the Elven magic of Alfheim. It was during a library research class in 'Borderline Black Magic Inducements', when she ran across a book, an ancient and dusty parchment actually, lost behind more recent publications. It turned out to be a Magic Reserve book, banned for underclassmen, that had been misplaced and forgotten decades before. In her room that evening, thanks to her 'hobby' of mythical languages, she managed to translate the runes for the first scroll in the book.
When she recited the incantations of the first scroll the most wondrous and frightening force surged through her fifteen year old body! The magic she unleashed was incredibly powerful, and unbelievably sexy! She was instantly filled with a lust she had never imagined before! A torrid, all consuming need for sexual contact filled her, but a form of sexual contact that she hadn't really expected.
It was Loki's perverted sense of humor at work again.
Her new found lust wasn't for boys! Her carnal cravings were distinctly and obsessively tuned to young females! From that moment on, all she could think about was burying her face between the nice, warm, wet thighs of one of her female classmates and listen to her scream as her tongue reached for teen womb!
Unconsciously, effortlessly and punctually, that evening, her body changed, adapting to the demands of the spell. At the time she didn't realize it, but her body took on a form that was, when naked, most pleasurable for other girls and Elves to be found under!
What made it better, or worse, was the...power that came with her change in sexual orientation! She became intrinsically a master seducer...of women. Without consideration, desire, or training, she acquired the ability, the power, to force any female into her bed. The most chaste teenager, trapped alone in the showers, became easy pickings, a deer caught in the headlamps of Hermione's onrushing lesbian lust!
She experienced her new power the very next day...
She met her classmate, Wednesday, in the library. From a fabulously wealthy and eclectic family, Wednesday was a transfer student, for a year, at Hogwarts to pick up some new techniques in magic. The same age as Hermione, she had butt crease long, straight and shiny black hair, a pale, oval face, and the best set of baby feeders in school! She always wore black, form fitting pull over dresses that came to a couple inches above her knees. They always displayed an hourglass figure only found on budding teenage girls destined to become voluptuous women in their mature years. Her 'D' cup jugs, often observed, and begrudging admired, in the girls' showers as superb pear shaped wonders of feminine charm, could barely be held up by her bra; her hips, already padded, even had a bulging, firm bubble butt much advanced over the other girls.
Now, suddenly, Hermione wanted to get 'up close and very personal' with those girl melons!
No sooner had they sat down, side by side, at a big oaken desk, than Hermione casually placed her right hand on Wednesday's left knee.
Wednesday's eyes flew open, wide and white, and she jerked her shocked face towards Hermione. But, then, she did nothing else.
Immediately, what with there being no actual attempt to thwart her familiarity, Hermione, still not looking at the startled girl, ran her hand up Wednesday's thigh until it touched the hem of her skirt, some four inches above the knee.
Now Wednesday responded! Her left hand slid under the table to clutch Hermione's right, stopping its advance in no uncertain terms. For a long moment stalemate ensued.
Then Hermione heard Wednesday sigh, and her formerly furious grip on her fondling hand loosened. Hermione now looked at the girl, seeing the shock gone, replaced by frustration and consternation. With a little jerk Hermione pushed her hand out from under Wednesday's to continue up her left thigh, up under her skirt.
All Wednesday could do was gnaw on her lower lip and, looking down, humiliatingly whisper, "No! Please!"
The girl's thigh flesh was smooth, firm, hot, silken. Hermione applied her wickedly sharp and long fingernails, gently scrapping up the inside of her thigh. Wednesday hissed, quite loudly, when her fingers approached her panty clad pussy.
Hermione immediately slid back down, stroking all the way, until she reached the hem. Then she simply stroked right back up until Wednesday hissed again. Up and down, side to side, she stroked living fire into Wednesday's thigh. When her thigh was quivering and jerking, Hermione leaned over.
"Slide down and spread your legs!" she whispered.
Immediately Wednesday slid a few inches down the chair on her bubble butt, simultaneously spreading her legs. Then Hermione switched to the inside of the other thigh, performing the same devastating assault.
Within minutes both of Wednesday's thighs were quivering.
Satisfied with her thigh play, Hermione moved up, up above the girl's bikini panties, to stroke the acres of flat, smooth belly flesh between Wednesday's navel and her barely covered, bulging sex mound.
That did it! By the time the class period was over, Wednesday was fit to be tied...er, fucked. Under the table her skirt was hiked nearly to her loins, her thighs spread eagerly and blatantly apart, giving all the access to her flesh that her assailant might want. Above the table Wednesday's nipples projected blatantly through her heaving chest, pebbly, half inch long protuberances visible across the room.
Right as they prepared to rise, Hermione gave a quick fondle, her first, of Wednesday's pussy bulge, and found her panties soaked, clinging like they were painted on to the girl's swollen labia, stiff little clit, panty cloth buried in her cunt and ass cleft.
As they rose, Hermione leaned over to her, "Follow me!"
Wednesday didn't respond, she couldn't respond, her throat was too constricted and dry from overwhelming sex heat.
As Hermione walked out of the library, in the direction of her own room, Wednesday was obediently in tow. They spent the rest of the morning in Hermione's room, buried between each other's firm, young thighs, learning the magical arts of clit sucking, labia lapping, and tongue fucking.
Her newly discovered lesbionic dominion over her fellow classmates, and not a few of her more youthful teachers, became uncontrollably intoxicating! To a high school aged girl barely old enough to ride a broomstick, certainly not old enough to have a driver's license, it was a very heady power to be able, with ease, to ride your teachers to lung emptying, window rattling orgasm.
So heady was the power that it got her expelled.
Yet, being expelled for fist fucking her 'Broomstick and Magic Carpet' coach in the girls' showers, turned out to be a blessing...
It forced her to explore the parchment (which she had stolen) further until she finally found the means to journey to this paradise of feminist pleasure!
Hermione pulled open her ancient oak door. Expecting an Elf, she already had her eyes downcast, so as to meet someone whose eyes would be something less than four and a half feet from the floor.
Instead she saw a pair of nicely sized but quite fake breasts impressed upon an armored 'breast' plate! Looking up, and up, she finally observed the finely featured, angular face some inches above her own. From the almond shaped eyes, narrow, almost pointed nose, and wide, full, naturally crimson lips, Hermione recognized she was facing someone whose ancestors were definitely related to Elves, though no longer of that race. Then her suspicions were confirmed when she caught sight of long, almost rabbit length, pointed ears.
As she looked over the inhuman face, a sudden emotion flooded her: This visitor was so...beautiful!
Hermione caught herself staring, gawking like a teenybopper meeting a celebrity. It disturbed her. It wasn't like her to gawk at Elves!
Meanwhile the stranger smirked down at her.
Before she could jerk herself out of her transfixed state, her body convulsed wildly, one vivid wrench, followed at once by a rush of monstrously torrid lust. In company, a not inconsiderable pulse of submissiveness seized her.
Only after she refocused her view following the disruptive convulsion did she notice the fine, powdery dust swirling around her face.
The stranger's smile widened, seeing the almost instantaneous effect of her 'fairy dust'. In a deep, confident, sexy voice she spoke, "I'm sorry about the cheap parlor trick, but I was warned about you...Allow me to introduce myself: I am Victoria! I also understand perfectly well why you can't shake my hand right now, which is also why I am not offering it! You see I think you will find that you're too busy wetting your pants to do anything else, right now!"
Now sweating profusely, Hermione could only stand there in the open door, motionless and dumb. She was most aware that she was also soaking wet...down there!
But not with sweat!
Hermione could now register the waves of magic swirling around her from the fairy dust. It was alien to her experience, but familiar enough to give her a good guess as to what it was up to. It was persuasive, hypnotic, possessive, in a very sexual way.
It almost felt like the first time she began experimenting with the Elven magic back at Hogwarts.
And it already had negatively effected her casting reflexes.
She detected that the Stranger was talking again. "Well, before we go on, let's see just how wet you are!" Victoria was saying while lifting her right hand, palm up, and flicking her fingers up three times.
Immediately, in spite of Hermione's seemingly frantically quick, but actually very slow developing, counter spells, the hem of her kilt obediently rose to wrap itself around her waist!
Ogling appreciably the girl's exposed, naked hips, Victoria reached in between Hermione's conveniently spread thighs and cupped the girl's defenselessly bald, floppy lipped cunt.
Hermione winced dramatically as the woman, without hesitation or permission, probed her soaked puss, flinging apart Hermione's labia with talented fingers and circling her tight, pink girl-hole. In her head Hermione could only hear her inner voice hypnotically cant, "How good that hand felt!"
Victoria chuckled, "Soaking wet! Just as I expected! Human's are so consistent, especially the young ones! They are just so easy!" Then she put her other hand on the girl's shoulder and gently pushed her back into the room.
Hermione's oak door silently closed behind the stranger.
"W...Who are you?" Hermione gasped, trying to fight the evil sex drugged fairy dust. Her hips jerked impulsively under the fondling fingers of the stranger. "W...W...What do you want?"
The Stranger pushed her against a surprisingly soft pile of ancient leather parchments. "I told you! Victoria's my name! I am an Aesir..."
Hermione's mind hadn't been slowed much, even though her reflexes had. She recognized a member of the Dark Lords' Spy and Assassin Order. "Spawn of Jotunheim!" she spat.
"You've heard of me! How delightful!" Victoria replied brightly. Pulling her soaked fingers from the girl's quivering twat, the Stranger pushed the young Mage until she fell back against the manuscripts, sliding down the pile towards the floor as if she were in a beanbag. With another incantation, and the swirling of her cunt juice dripping finger, she pointed at Hermione's two outstretched, manuscript grasping hands and translucent bolts of light shot out to enwrap the girl's wrists. Then, by pointing up at the beams of the ceiling, the bolts drew up Hermione's arms until they were stretched out overhead towards the beams.
"There!" Victoria said, satisfied, for the moment, with her binding handiwork. "Can't be too careful with talented Mages!"
Hermione could only glare at the tall Elven woman, hatred clearing showing on her impotent face.
Ignoring the Mage's glaring expression, Victoria pulled off a backpack she had been carrying over her shoulders. As she brought it between the Mage and herself, Hermione abruptly could see...something moving around inside it! "You wanted to know why I am here?" Victoria asked, loosening the knots on the backpack.
As if in answer the pack opened and, with a buzz reminiscent of that from a hummingbird hovering nearby, a figure rose from the sack with lightning speed.
Hermione instantly recognized the creature as a Fairy..."You have a Fairy?!" Hermione gasped, looking from the hovering Fairy to Victoria, back and forth, not without some respect. "You have taken a Fairy captive?!"
Fairies were rarely encountered creatures who journeyed from uninhabited place to place following their own urges. Never were they found anywhere near towns or even caravans. Usually they were seen only by lone travelers, and mostly in their wet dreams! They were so independent and disinterested in the affairs of Elf, Human or other larger creatures that captured Fairies died of broken hearts soon after being taken at having lost their freedom.
Victoria grinned proudly. "Desiree's magic is potent!"
Hermione took a double take. "Desiree?! She is behind this?"
Victoria bowed. "I am in the service of Desiree!" She pointed to the hovering Fairy. "This is Moonbeam Elfsubjugator of the Clitbreaker Clan. She...assists me!"
The Fairy hovered closer, studying Hermione as much as the girl Mage studied her first, up close and live, Fairy. She was a doll! About eighteen inches in height, a pair of gossamer wings on her back, flapping in a blur, keeping her aloft. Her figure was pure fantasy: Big, pear shaped boobs, inhumanly narrow waist, wide hips, impressively plump yet firm buns, a hairless pussy of the hottest pink straddled by full, smooth thighs. Her face was pure Elf beauty, crowned by wildly curly, shiny blond hair halfway down her svelte back.
Victoria leaned forward, dragging Hermione's entranced, wide eye stare away from the hovering, sweetly smiling Fairy. "You want to know why we're here? Well, Desiree knows there is something brewing amongst you twats that could interfere with some certain plans of Desiree! There is a reason why Lady Gem is here, is there not? Desiree, and myself, want to know what the reason is as well as who Lady Gem is going to send into Jotunheim to find out, in turn, what we're up to! So, all you have to do is name some names and places and this will become oh so much more pleasant!
"Save yourself the agony and tell me!" she added, circling Hermione's barely covered right nipple with her still cunt juice wet finger. Hermione looked away when her nipple jutted out almost painfully in response.
Then Hermione screwed up all the courage her teenaged body could collect and frowned, mightily. "No way, Bitch! You take your puppy and tell Desiree..."
Victoria's exaggerated frown creased her forehead. "Now! Now! There is no need to be insulting! I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you a little example of what your lack of cooperation is going to get you!" Victoria replied, pointing her finger at Hermione's ankles.
Instantly another pair of lightning manacles wrapped around Hermione's ankles and, with the Mage flexing her athletic legs furiously but futilely, Victoria hauled the girl's legs up and up until her bound ankles were alongside her ears!
With the consummately obstructed Mage squealing in furious frustration at the involuntary flaunting of her girl charms to the Aesir, Victoria followed up with a simple snap of her fingers and the girl's stuffed white blouse obediently popped open, permitting her perfect suck cones to eagerly leap out.
"Beautiful!" Victoria breathed, staring in open admiration at Hermione's magically enhanced baby feeders. "You have done a magnificent job sculpting your body, my Dear! You know, I am responsible for leaving that book in the Hogwarts' Library! Therefore, I consider myself at least partially responsible for this luscious body I am about to ravage! I have to admit, I have been looking forward to this moment!"
Hermione gritted her teeth. Looking at the Fairy hovering inches from her face, close enough she could smell the delectable, and until now mythical odor of Fairy pussy, she knew she was in for a rough ride in their hands!
She prayed she could withstand it!
"Moonbeam, why don't you show her how you earned your prominence as a foremost breaker of Elves!" Victoria smirked. She then turned to Hermione, "She has over forty straight 'kills' against your Elven friends! Has yet to fail, once she has set her...talents to Elf cunt! Desiree's pleasure rooms are filled with Moonbeam's victims! They are, alas, only good for...entertainment, so to speak, once a Fairy is done with them! So, you see, Darling, you might as well give up right now! Don't make me damage that wonderful mind of yours! After all, Humans, in my humble opinion, are easier than Elves to break!"
But Hermione wasn't listening. Courageously, yet wide eyed in girlish foreboding, she watched the smirking little Fairy slowly, teasingly, approach her.
The little beast went for her impressive girl jugs first.
Hermione couldn't help but gasp from the torrid, wet sensation of tight, slick, vacuuming Fairy mouth engulfing her right tit's already erect nipple. She blushed when she heard Victoria ruefully laugh at her instinctive reaction.
Then the sucking began.
She was gnawing on her lower lip by the time the Fairy finished on her left nipple. Even though the Fairy had been assaulting her nipples for only a couple of minutes at most, sweat was pouring down her armpits, her asscrack, her forehead. Already panting like a race horse, she could only gawk at the nursing little monster!
Then, with a little pop, the Fairy finished with her nearly inch long and fiery red nipples. Teeth clamped down on her lower lip, her still Fairy fixated eyes wide and white in unmentionable sexual terror, she helplessly watched the Fairy start its slow descent towards her...
"No!" Hermione yelped in sudden panic when Moonbeam gripped her floppy labia in her tiny but luridly strong hands and forcefully pulled her cuntal tent flaps wide, wide apart. Now her brave, unhooded girl-button was completely, helplessly exposed...
"OOOH!" the girl cried out, her wrenching cry echoing off her study's iron clad walls, as her pebbly stiff clit was mouthed for the first time by a Fairy. She looked up at Victoria, almost as if she were begging for pity, as the Fairy took up her pitilessly masterful suckling.
Victoria laughed down at her as the little girl whining began...
Roger was impressed with Elfthring. He had been expecting some xerox of a Medieval village, mud and thatch huts, pigs in the streets, etc. While the place certainly mimicked Medieval construction, it appeared to lack the 'down side'...
It was near noon when he strolled into Elfthring. He was especially careful to maintain his disguise, keeping his hood well over his bearded face. He was also thankful for the loose nature of his garment for, from a good half mile from the edge of town, he began to come across Elves and other, also most definitely female, creatures sharing the road.
"Do all Elves have succulent bubblebutts like Flare?", he silently asked himself after being exposed to the first Elves to pass ahead of him on the road to Elfthring. By the time he had reached Elfthring, his question had been answered in no uncertain terms and, in addition, he was convinced that Loki had to be an 'ass man' of the highest order!
Furthermore, to his utter masculine delight, he realized that evidently every Elf in Alfheim attired themselves as if they were from "the Adventures of Robyn Hump and Friar Fuck"! Everywhere he looked he saw luscious, diminutive, pointy eared bodies with painted on tights broadcasting to all who bothered to look that they had the roundest, meatiest, most conspicuously displayed set of buns this side of a Rio beach!
And tits! Don't mention the Elf-boobs! Certainly they all wore vests, not unlike Flare. But, just like Flare, they all wore vests that had strikingly plunging necklines clearly intended to display ample dark, smooth cleavage between mostly shrouded, roundly jutting, firm, full man-pacifiers! Vests which were designed to end just below the sternum to, no doubt to save material, leave most becomingly bare midriffs unveiling acres of flat, smooth, deep navelled belly!
This place resembled one of his wet dreams!
He had a terminal hard-on from the moment he entered Elfthring!
Thank Loki for loose robes!
Thank Lord Loki for putting his wet dreams into fulfillment!
The 'highway' he traveled on seamlessly mutated effortlessly into the main road of Elfthring. However it wasn't the only street, or even major thoroughfare, in the surprisingly large town. He quickly surmised that at least thousands, if not tens of such, must have lived in the town.
Meaning a large and varied economy was required.
The main road remained one of pounded and pressed dirt, but no sign of the mud, sewage, even horse manure expected of such habitation could be seen. The buildings down the main road were of wood and dried mud, glazed over in multitudinous colors, and clearly intended for business or trade, but all were in top notch repair. Even the more modest personal homes located on parallel streets behind the main road were pristine in appearance.
As he had expected since Flare had explained his status as an Arcastrian, he found that no one spoke to him, or even looked directly at him, once he neared the edge of town. After all, he supposed no one was eager to be enslaved into sex wrestling if they could help it!
One Elf, however, did speak with him, just as he entered the confines of the town. An Elf wearing a metal helmet, resembling a Greek or Roman helmet with a feather crest, and a metal corset or chest plate with an impressive pair of tits carved into it (He wondered if they made the corset's to match what the owners had underneath?) stepped up to him from a nondescript, small building right on the road at the edge of the town. He quickly surmised that the building was some sort of 'police' station. She was armed with sword and spear, and had the snuggest tights painted on, garb that showed every notch and depression of her camel-toe. He swore he could have counted every one of her pubic hairs through those tights...if Elves had pubic hair!
She apparently was a guard or the police. "We observe the FreeElf Protocol here, you will recall!" she nearly barked. Looking carefully at her beautiful, of course, face, Roger noticed a trace of...fear. The same fear that Flare showed when he grabbed her out of the stream to plant her over the log for some good old fashion butt fucking!
Roger, still not trusting his voice, just nodded.
"No involuntary recruitment or transactions within Elfthring. Not without her consent to the transaction! Clear?"
Roger nodded again.
The Elf suddenly smiled in relief. "Good. Then enjoy Elfthring! You'll find our Gymnasium one of the largest, and best equipped, in the territory! But, then again, that's probably why you're here, right?"
Roger chuckled softly and nodded his hood three times, concentrating his vision on the Elf's perfectly delineated pussy.
The towers he noticed from afar that morning were of the four story tall City Hall, exactly in the center of the town. His destination, the Inn, was two blocks short of that. He had no problem finding the placard of the Inn: a huge cock jutting out beneath the belly of a horse with three impressively swollen and dimensioned, pendulant balls below it.
"What else would you name an Inn for Elves?" he told himself as he neared the eight foot high entrance door. Looking up, he saw that the Inn had two floors of rooms above the main floor, and had to be a good half block long.
At the entrance, looking over his shoulder, he saw an even more impressive building across the road, twice as long as the Inn, but with only two stories. Unlike the white walled and brown beamed Inn, the other building was darkly colored, a deep blue to black that tended to make it look low and wide and massive. Imposing. Intimidating...
"I see you've found our Gymnasium!" came a friendly feminine voice behind him.
Turning he saw a beautiful (of course!) Elf woman, seemingly older than Flare without actually showing it, standing in the Inn's open doorway, wiping a mug with a bright white cloth.
She beamed at him with a smile that was both habit and sincere. "You must be the Arcastrian Flare told me about! That true?"
Roger nodded briskly.
"Don't talk much?" she still beamed, studying the completely dry mug.
Roger cleared his throat, attempting to pitch his voice as high as he could convincingly accomplish. "Yes! Pardon my...hesitation..."
Her smile actually widened. "No matter! We welcome all here! Ain't no prejudice in my Inn! And I can well understand your interest in our Gymnasium! Biggest one in the territory! Five pits on the first floor, two of them isolated Clan pits! Upstairs, no less than forty private pit rooms and twelve Squadron pit rooms..."
"Uh, pardon, but Squadron?" Roger interrupted.
For the first time the Elf's brow knitted. "Ye don't know about Squadron?...Where ye been?"
"Oh! Forgive me, but I am new..."
The beam came back. "Ah! So that explains the absence of your... merchandise! I was wonderin' where your...slaves were! So, you haven't gotten established in your...business, yet?"
"Exactly! I thought it wise to first...investigate the Gymnasia, see what they have and what they...uh...need, before I start..."
"...acquiring your goods, eh?" She completed his statement. "Bit unorthodox, for an Arcastrian. But, with today's strangeness and uncertainty...well, by the blind Dark Lords, it's probably a good idea to check things out before you spend your money!" She hesitated with the word "money". "By the way, you are here for 'business'?"
With some hesitancy at the word "business", Roger nodded.
"Ye can pay? Flare told me you could pay..."
"Of course!" Suddenly understanding, Roger, much relieved, replied, reaching into the deep pocket at his hip for the leather bag of coins Flare had given him that morning. Drawing the bag out, he asked, "How much?"
The Elf eyed the nearly full bag appreciatively, but not greedily. "Ye have gold?"
Roger reached in and pulled out one coin. The coins looked golden, and Flare had said they were gold, but Roger was never sure that any round piece of metal with the head of a pointy eared woman on it could pass for money until someone took it. "Will this cover the expense?"
For the briefest moment the Elf's eyes widened, then she calmly took the coin from Roger. After a further short but detailed study of the coin's two sides, she smoothly slipped it into the purse on her belt, giving Roger an excuse to immodestly gawk at her fully tights outlined privates, before looking back up at him. "It will do nicely, good Traveler! My name's Guinevere, Guinevere SteedMilker!"
She offered her hand and Roger gripped it without forethought. As he shook her strong, but still feminine hand, he hoped she couldn't tell his hand wasn't female!
"This is my Inn!" She added after the handshake had broken. "My pride and joy, needless to say!"
"I've never seen a more attractive respite for a weary traveler!" Roger replied with unusual poetic insight, and honesty, while admiring the front of the building.
Guinevere's smile literally shone at his compliment. "You have a mount?" she asked, pointing her thumb towards the back of the establishment. "I have certainly one of the best livery's in Elfthring!"
"I do not, I am afraid. Arcastrians prefer to walk or ride wagons..."
"I most certainly understand! But, if you fancy a good taste of the steed," she added, dropping her voice and carefully looking up and down the street. "I serve the best SteedMilk pudding and Steedcream sauce this side of Lady Gem's Castle! Only for the most discriminating visitors, you see!"
Roger tried to nod solemnly. 'SteedMilk'? 'Steedcream'? Could that be...
With what he had seen Flare do with her horse, ANYTHING with horses could be possible here!
"In fact," Guinevere continued with her sales pitch, "Lady Gem is in town, under the strictest confidence, you see, and I fully expect her to visit me for just such delicacies! I hope this is not too boastful!"
"I am most interested,"-not! Roger added, silently.
"Even so, it is an acquired taste!" she added. Then, hesitating, she pulled Roger's coin from her purse. A brief frown creased her face. Putting the coin back, she looked back at him with an embarrassed smile. "I must maintain my honor, good Traveler, to both you and Flare. I must admit to you that your payment was not only sufficient for room and board, but more than sufficient. Substantially more! Therefore, to make amends for, inadvertently, overcharging you, I will give you the run of the Inn! Whatever my humble home has, is yours! Especially since you were vouched for by Flare of the Guild. May I suggest, if you just want to...draw your own sample of my famous Triple-testicle Steedcream, just ask any of my maids! They will personally accompany you to the livery. I have the largest herd of those famous mounts for the entertainment and good health of my most discriminating visitors, like yourself! Just remember to bring a big bib!"
Then the proprietor turned and led Roger into the Inn. Roger grinned as he watched Guinevere's broader, more mature looking asscheeks jerk and shudder back and forth in her tights. Here was the warm fullness, the ass grabbing meat of a...mature Elf! Not the smooth, rotund steel buns of a Guild Elf, flipping, jerking back and forth as they stride, but the slightly ovaled, more resilient cheeks of a 'broken-in' Elf woman, swaying to and fro!
Roger's prick was jumping again!
Hermione's whines echoed from the ironclad walls of her study. She was still laid back upon her parchments, though now completely naked. Her arms and legs were still up, though her legs were no longer shackled. They were up, with knees spread wide, of her own volition.
Her lush teen body glistened with sweat, and she had rivulets of it coursing down her temples, between her heaving tits, flooding her deep navel, streaming between her compressed asscheeks.
Staring down over her heaving belly at the still hovering, still clit gnawing Fairy between her wide spread and upraised thighs, she silently pleaded with the smirking little dear to finally, FINALLY, finish her off!
How long had she been there, open and offered up to this demonic clit licker, kept mercilessly and pitilessly on the edge of mind destroying orgasm! She couldn't take it anymore!
The beast had her button in complete control! She could let her down, building the maddening frustration of having not cum, yet again, before quickly, effortlessly, FORCEFULLY driving her up, up, up again, almost over the edge...ALMOST...before going through the inhuman cycle again!
She was going mad!
Actually it was partially the magic. The technique wasn't really unique or difficult. Once a Fairy had an oral clit lock on the victim, you applied the proper hypnotic spells upon her sex-distracted mind. Victoria, now as naked as Hermione and Moonbeam, stood behind the squirming young pussy, endlessly inciting her (actually Desiree's) evil spells and liberally applying her Fairy Dust.
The technique wasn't quick.
It wasn't fair, certainly!
But it would work.
Every time!
Hermione began crying, crying like a little girl. Tossing her sweaty head back and forth, throwing drops of sweat everywhere, the teenager lost it. "Please! Oh, Please!" she went, over and over.
"Please what?" Victoria whispered behind the tossing head.
Moonbeam simply continued to suck.
Hermione wailed, "Please! PLEASE! End it! End me! Let me cum! Make me cum!"
"But don't you remember? You have things to tell me? You haven't told me? How can I fuck you properly, if you won't tell me?"
"I'll talk! I'll talk! Just please fuck me! PLEASE!"
Victoria walked around the near hysterical girl. "Well, since you asked so nice!" She stood right before the sobbing, whining teenager, her legs apart, her fists on her wide hips.
Hermione, shuddering and sniffling, stared at Victoria's oversized clit, poking out from between her bald, tight, well spread labia.
"You can tell me all I want to know, after you cum?" Victoria asked.
Hermione, will and resistance crushed by cum-need and mind-enslavement spells, just nodded quickly.
"After you tell me all I want to know, Desiree has told me to give you a reward! Would you like to see that reward?"
Again the tear and sweat streaked teenager nodded.
"Moonbeam, will you do the honors?" Victoria asked, looking down at the still studiously clit suckling Fairy.
Moonbeam, with a loud pop, immediately pulled off of Hermione's nearly inch long, rock hard and flaming pink girl-button, making the girl gasp raggedly. Then she turned around and rose till her face was even with Victoria's jutting clit. Without further hesitation the Fairy opened her mouth wide and, sliding forward, engulfed Victoria's clit.
Victoria closed her eyes in total bliss as Moonbeam went to work.
Hermione, still wildly quivering on the edge of girl bliss, managed to open her eyes to watch the Fairy nurse on Victoria's clit.
"Oh, Moonbeam!" Victoria suddenly cried out. "You are soooo gooood at this! I love you!"
Then Moonbeam did something she never did with Hermione.
She gagged!
Less then a half minute later, she gagged again!
Even louder!
Then she began hovering farther away from Victoria's flat, firm belly! Farther and farther, until she was a good foot away!
But she was still gagging!
"Enough, Moonbeam, darling!" Victoria, opening her eyes, tapped the hovering Fairy lovingly on her head.
With another syrupy pop, the Fairy moved aside.
Hermione's eyes widened. Victoria's clit had...grown! Jutting out from the top of her pussy, the Elf-like creature now sported a pole a good four inches wide and over a foot long!
Stroking it as if it were a cock, Victoria nodded in understanding to Hermione's awe struck gape. "That's right, little girl!" she leered. "Fifteen inches of nearly five inch wide clitoris! As good as a prick! Better, if you noticed the lack of testicles! At least I can't get you pregnant! At least, not yet!"
Victoria looked down at Hermione's widely displayed loins. "Your clit looks almost big enough to be able to reach fifteen inches. That is, once I give you the 'gift'! And as soon as you tell me what I want to know, you'll get it, all right!"
Victoria knelt between Hermione's upturned and well spread thighs. The sweaty and stripped young Mage started to shake her head in denial, but Victoria quickly planted her huge clit between the girl's open labia and began running the firm, powerful clit up and down the girl's twat.
Hermione winced, then moaned pitifully as the wicked pleasure surged through her. Instantly her new found resistance vanished.
"You want this?" Victoria teased, running up and down the girl's gash.
Hermione whimpered.
"You want me to fuck you?"
Hermione nodded.
"You want me to fuck you hard? Deep? Whenever and wherever I want?"
"Yes!" the girl hissed.
"Do you want to cum for me, for my big, fat, hard clit?"
"Yes, please!"
"You going to tell me..."
"Yes, PLEASE! Whatever you want! Just fuck me! I gotta cum!"
With a totally evil chuckle Victoria rammed her hips forward, burying her massive pole into the hysterically screaming girl's belly to the hilt.
"Now, talk!" Victoria ordered as she began pumping.
Hermione talked.
!