Tarran the Roamer

Chapter One: Tarran among the Amazons

The rough, hemp ropes cut into Tarran's wrists as he was pulled
forward. His impressively muscled arms strained against his bonds, but
he was rewarded with only pain to his chafed, raw skin. He was too
weak from lack of food and water to break free. Tarran had spent the
last three days in a cage, captive of the Raven Clan  - a band of
Amazon women. His captors had stripped him of his clothes, weapons,
and now, his dignity. The cruel bitches had taunted him with their
shapely, athletic bodies, and tortured him with switches and stinging
brambles. His arms, legs, back, and other more delicate parts of his
body were covered with scratches and welts. Tarran's deep blue, almost
violet eyes glowered from behind his long black hair - which hung now
in matted, sweaty straggles around his rugged, yet strangely noble
face. His thick, sensual lips formed a snarl as the leading Amazon, a
blonde with her hair in a braid that hung down to the crack of her
tight ass, yanked on the leader tied to the ropes surrounding his
wrists.
"Move along, you cur!" the blonde snapped, with barely a glance back
at Tarran, "Our beloved Queen Volanda would have an audience with
you."
She had put a strange inflection on the word audience that gave Tarran
pause in his thoughts of escape and revenge. What exactly did this
Queen Volanda want? Tarran had heard stories of men being taken by the
Amazons, killed, and eaten. He had also heard stories of men being
subjected to strange magics that left them mere shadows of their
former selves, or even worse, gibbering madmen. What was to be his
fate?
Tarran shuffled forward, his legs bound by ropes passed through a
board about two feet long. The board was just long for him to take
humiliating, baby steps. Besides being incredible martial artists,
these Amazons were experts at bondage.
Tarran's thoughts drifted back to the day of his capture. It had
started like any other. He had awoke at first light, thrown off his
bear fur blanket, and gotten up to take his morning piss. He had just
lifted his thick woolen kilt and unleashed a mighty torrent from his
bladder, when he heard a rustle of leaves above him in the trees. His
eyes had been closed, his head tilted back, as he enjoyed the rush of
relief to his loins, but his keen hearing alerted him of danger. He
tumbled backwards, still urinating, the piss splattering everywhere.
His acrobatic dodge was too late, however; he felt the cords of a net
settle over him. He attempted to roll to his feet but became tangled,
and he sprawled face down in the dirt and leaves of the glen he had
camped in. Tarran reached down and grasped the knife he always kept
hidden in his fox fur-lined, soft, leather boot. One quick upward
stoke and the net parted. Tarran's knife was always honed to a razor
edge. Before he could shrug off the net, he saw several pairs of
sandaled feet hit the ground nearby.
Stars exploded in his head as a club or staff wielded by one of his
attackers smashed into his skull. Dazed, but undeterred, Tarran flung
the net off as he pushed to his feet. He accessed his situation: three
Amazon warriors - two with clubs, one with a quarterstaff - stood
before him. His broadsword and shield lay seven or eight long steps
away. He would have to fight with only his knife.
Silently, the Amazons circled him. Tarran could tell they were using
some sort of combat gestures based on facial and head movements, but
unfortunately, he didn't understand them. This gave the Amazons an
even great tactical advantage than merely outnumbering him.
The Amazon with the staff, a comely brunette with shoulder length
curls, twitched her powerful arms, and the staff shot out. The tip
caught Tarran under the chin. He moved back just enough to keep from
being knocked out, but a jolt of pain brought tears to his eyes. He
shook his head to clear it, when the next Amazon, a busty wench, with
her sandy hair pulled into a severe topknot, stepped in, club cocked
back, ready to brain him. Tarran's knife hand blurred forward, like a
cobra striking. The blade sliced diagonally across the woman's chest.
The cut was painful but not deep. It did however, cut through the cord
holding together the two sides of her leather halter. Her breasts
bounced out, and jiggled wildly as she backed away, howling in pain.
She clutched a hand to her bare chest, and it came away bloody. She
sat down heavily on the ground, the fight gone out of her.
Tarran was momentarily distracted by the wounded woman's bare bosoms
as the third Amazon, a tall, muscle-bound, honey blonde, brought her
club down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Her expertly
placed strike was to the nerve center there, and the pain sent Tarran
spiraling down into the darkness of unconsciousness.
He had come to, sometime later, to find himself in a cage built of
thick posts of ironwood. He was naked and cold. The top of the cage
was hinged and locked down by a peg the size of his forearm. Try as he
might, he could not budge it. The cage was at the center of pit with
vine-covered walls. The vines were tantalizingly out of arms reach.
The rim of the pit was even with the top of the cage and only a short
jump away.
His jailers must have been secretly watching him, for as soon as he
ceased his efforts to free himself, a dozen of the warrior women had
appeared at the edge of the pit. Each wore sandals, short deerskin
skirts, and halters. They each had different hair colors and lengths,
and each was a superb example of youthful womanhood. They laughed and
taunted him by cavorting sexually with each other. One lifted her
skirt and another began to rub and finger her slit. Another bared her
breasts for two others to kiss and suck. Two others lay down, one atop
the other, but in opposite directions - their mouths feasting hungrily
upon each other's honey pot. Tarran had never seen women sexually
satisfying themselves like this before. He became aroused, his long,
thick shaft rising upward, as if straining to reach the orgy above
him.
His callused hand reached down and clasped his rigid member. He began
to slow stroke himself, using the slick, gooey fluid that oozed from
the tip of his erection. Tarran watched and enjoyed the Amazon's
display, stroking himself now with abandon. He began to breath heavily
and buck his hips as he felt this climax begin to build. The Amazons,
noting his state, ceased their sex play and all stood facing him in a
circle. Those who still had their skirts on whipped them off and
tossed them aside. Tarran slowed his strokes, wondering what was to
come. The Amazons didn't make him wait long. They thrust their hips
forward, and began to urinate on him. Tarran was soaked by a dozen
golden waterfalls. The hot piss got in his surprised eyes and mouth.
He choked, spit, and shut his eyes tightly. The gold rain fell for
what felt like an eternity. Tarran's manhood shriveled. At last, the
shower ended and Tarran gasped and sputtered.
"Filthy sluts!"  He bellowed, "You'll pay for this!" The Amazons only
laughed and danced out of sight.
That night, after Tarran finally fell into an uncomfortable, cold, wet
slumber, he was stung awake by a switch. An Amazon was standing
outside the cage twirling a thin, flexible branch of a sapling,
stripped of its leaves. Tarran turned to grab for her and what felt
like a thousand cat's claws tore at his buttocks. Another Amazon had
jumped into the pit and struck him with a branch covered in thorns.
This went on for quiet some time. One Amazon would leap in and strike
while another would scramble up and out on the vines lining the pit.
Tarran finally collapsed in the corner of the cage, sobbing in
frustration. He cursed himself for his weakness, but he was simply too
tired and disoriented to put up a fight.
Three days, Tarran had endured this treatment. He was given no food or
water, and by the third day, he was so thirsty, he opened his mouth
and drank when the Amazons relieved themselves upon him. Now, as he
was being led to the Queen, he knew he must look and smell horrible.
How much more humiliation could he take?
The braided Amazon leading him, stopped and gestured to an iron bound
door.
"We will pause here for a time." She said, knocking lightly on the
door. It swung open from the inside and Tarran could see a large
chamber. Near the center was a huge vat or cauldron of some sort.
Steam or fog rolled over the rim of the thing, and cascaded down the
set of steps leading up to the edge. Were they planning to cook him?!
Tarran began to struggle fiercely against his bonds. The Amazon with
the braid made a disgusted sound and shoved Tarran into the room. He
moved farther than his hobble allowed and he pitched forward. He tried
to twist around and stop his fall with his hands, but Braid Woman
jerked the leader rope hard and Tarran hit the floor hard on his
shoulder. His dense muscles absorbed the blow and kept him from any
real hurt. Besides his pride, that is. The door slammed shut behind
him and he was alone, or so he thought.
Tarran got to his feet and looked about the room. Besides the vat, the
only other things in the room were a large cabinet or wardrobe and a
bed. He was about to examine the cabinet when he heard a gentle
splash. He whiled around to see a beautiful, nude woman rising from
the vat. It was a tub of some kind, for she was dripping water, and
steam was rising off her skin. She stopped, the water just below her
navel, and beckoned Tarran over. Curious, he complied. He mounted the
steps and stood before the woman. She was slim, yet her breasts were
large and pendulous. Her skin was deeply tanned, like his, and the
flesh surrounding her small pointed nipples was a rich brown, like her
short, wet hair. The tips of her ears were pointed. She was a mixed
blood of some kind, Tarran noted, perhaps Elven or Goblin. Her hazel
eyes seemed to bore through him. She waved a delicate hand, one long
nailed finger extended, over his bonds and they parted as if cut by a
sword stroke. Magic! The woman Tarran beheld was a sorceress. Tarran
noted the golden rings adorning each delicate finger, and around her
neck, a finely detailed choker, shaped like a snake, with a glowing
green gem in it's mouth.
Fear rose in Tarran's throat. Magic was the one thing he dreaded most.
He didn't dare move. A sorceress could burn him to a crisp with but a
word. This one however, seem to have something else in mind. She
retreated back into the water until it lapped at her full breasts. She
crooked the still extend finger and made the come here gesture. Tarran
stepped into the water and the hobble fell away. He kicked it off the
edge of the tub and plunged in. The water was hot and scented - a
pleasant, but unidentifiable perfume. The heat seemed to take all the
pain and embarrassment away, as it relaxed and cleansed his body.
The sorceress stepped forward, draping her arms around Tarran's neck,
and pressing her breasts to his chest. Tarran felt her lower body mold
to his and his member began to harden. She drew him in for a kiss, her
warm tongue probing his mouth. His tongue met hers and below his
manhood became fully erect. Her legs parted slightly and clamped
together around him. As they kissed she began to slowly rock her hips
in time with her flicking tongue.  Tarran's fears softened somewhat as
his enjoyment of the soceress' attention increased. Her tongue
wriggled like an eel, exploring every bit of his mouth and her nether
cleft gently squeezed and massaged his staff.
Abruptly, she pulled away. With a lusty smile, she reached down and
grasped Tarran's manhood. She tugged him along as she climbed out of
the tub. He followed, aware now that she did not plan to kill him -
she had something else in mind. She led him to the bed and gestured
above their heads. Tarran was startled as heat, as if he were standing
next to a bonfire, flowed down from her hand. He stumbled backwards
and sat down on the bed. He realized at that moment that he and the
soceress were both completely dried off.
"What do you want of me, witch?" Tarran growled.
She leaned over, her breasts swaying hypnotically, and touched a
finger to his lips. "Shhh. You may call me Ki-mun. I want nothing of
you. I am only to prepare you to meet our Queen."
Ki-mun straddled Tarran's legs and lowered herself towards his lap.
She took his tumescent member and began to rub it against her lower
lips. Soon, Tarran was completely hardened, and her pleasure valley
was flooded.
"Your name, outlander, what is it?" Ki-mun inquired, as she impaled
herself upon his shaft.
"Tarran of Kozar." He sighed.
"Tarran," She said, slowly grinding her crotch against his, "I will
instruct you in the proper etiquette our queen demands.
	"First of all," She paused for a deep breath, "ooh, first of all,
some terms for you to learn. What we are doing now is called fucking.
Do not use your barbaric term `rutting'. That beautiful thing you have
inside me is your cock."
	She reached down and began to rub the top of her thinly furred slit.
"This," she groaned, "is my cunt."
	Her other hand came down and she spread her lips apart. One finger
moved to the center and flicked against the roll of flesh where her
lips met. She shuddered and said, "This is the center of my pleasure.
We call it the clit. If you wish to please a woman, stroke, lick, or
suck on it."
	With that, she arched her back, her body stiffened, and she let out a
low, throaty moan. "I just climaxed." She said, smiling. "When you
climax, you `come'. Understand?"
	"Enough words. I understand." Tarran breathed. He reached under
Ki-mun and cupped her succulent buttocks in his hands. Effortlessly,
he stood, never missing a stroke. He carried her to the wall and
pressed her back against the rough-hewn wall. He began to slam his
cock into her sopping wet cunt.
She thrashed wildly on his battering ram as she climaxed again. She
shrieked in with delight as he pounded her against the wall.
	Their mouths locked once again as Tarran turned and carried her to
the bed. Putting his rough hands under her arms, he lifted her like a
feather and tossed her onto the bed. She rolled over and came to her
hands and knees. Tarran's eyes roved from her tiny, delicate feet up
her legs, past the round, sweat filmed mounds of her ass, to her back.
There he saw an intricate tattoo of a winged, fire-breathing serpent.
The serpent's fiery breath graced the nape of her neck, it's wings
covered her shoulder blades, and the creature's split tail curled down
underneath her buttocks and disappeared into her anus.
	"Let us fuck like dogs." Ki-mun cooed.
	Tarran climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs. With one
swift thrust, he entered her.
She pushed back furiously as Tarran pumped his cock in and out.
Tarran's hands reached around to fondle her flopping breasts. His
fingers pinched and twisted her sensitive nipples. Using Tarran's
support, she leaned back against his massive chest. Her hands moved
down to her clit; she leaned her head forward, spit on her fingers,
and using the spit for lubrication began rubbing herself with
intensity. As another sense-shattering orgasm overtook her, Tarran
felt the walls of her cunt, pulsing, as if attempting to milk his
cock.
Ki-mun screamed and collapsed forward on the bed. She bit and clawed
at the sheets as Tarran continued to fuck her, his big, sweaty balls
slapping against her pubic mound.
	"Come in my mouth!" Ki-mun begged, casting a wicked glance at Tarran.
	Tarran pulled out quickly, causing her cunt to quiver. He flopped
down on the bed beside her, his member towering above him. Ki-mun
slipped between his legs and took his thick erection in one hand. She
looked deeply into his eyes as her mouth, slowly - ever so slowly,
engulfed the tip of his cock. She stretched her lips forward and
swallowed him to the base. As she slid her lips back, Tarran could
feel her tongue sliding and wrapping itself about his staff. The
sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He laid his head back
and relaxed, allowing his pleasure to mount. Ki-mun continued to lick
and suck him vigorously. Tarran felt the sweet, wonderful pressure of
his climax intensify. Every muscle in his body stiffened as the
feeling became more than he could bear. He relaxed and the climax
eclipsed all thought. He felt as if he were turning inside out as his
seed jetted down Ki-mun's throat.
After sending five powerful streams of his hot cream into her gullet,
Tarran finally rested and looked down at Ki-mun. Her lips were
gripping the base of his cock. She pulled her mouth off his member,
exposing her tongue. It was wrapped several times around his shaft.
Its tip was split, like a snake's. She leaned back and the tongue
stretched to a terrifying, unnatural length. Tarran's eyes widen in
fear. She grinned around the snake-like tongue and gestured with both
hands over her head. Tarran felt as if an ice-cold blanket had been
thrown over him. He started to cry out, but had no air in his lungs.
He struggled to breathe, but could not. Nor could he move. He was
paralyzed and suffocating. Tarran's last thought was of how much he
hated magic. Then he thought no more.

	Tarran jolted from unconsciousness to pain wracking his body, from
head to toe. He was standing, spread-eagle, his arms manacled to
chains stretching to the ceiling. His feet were clamped in a wooden
rack securely attached to the floor. He faced away from the wall, and
pressed into his back were the rungs of a wide ladder. Before him
stood Ki-mun. She yanked back on a lever sticking up from the floor,
and there was a loud ratcheting sound. The chains suspending Tarran's
arms tightened, sending another wave of blinding pain through him.
Tarran gritted his teeth and groaned.
	"That's tight enough, I think." Purred a low, sultry voice.
	Tarran peered ahead into the shadowy room. The chamber was lit only
by a pair of braziers on the opposite side of the room. Gauzy curtains
hung from ceiling to floor, dividing this side of the chamber from the
other. From between two curtains emerged an incredibly beautiful woman
with a regal bearing. Her hair was long and wavy, a deep shade of red,
almost burgundy. Her eyes were the darkest he had ever seen, and
framed by long thick lashes. A man could get lost in those eyes,
Tarran thought. Her lips were full and pouty. High cheekbones
completed her incomparable visage. Her body was voluptuous, yet
muscular. The corded muscles of her arms and legs were in contrast
with her large breasts and ample derriere. She was dressed in a simple
white robe, girded about the waist with a wide, golden belt; the clasp
of which depicted the sun with a female face. Her wrists, ankles, and
neck were adorned with similar gold bands.
	Ki-mun, head bowed, removed a ring from her finger and held it out to
the woman.
	"My Queen." Ki-mun murmured, as the woman took the ring.
	She slipped the ring on and said, dismissively, "That will be all,
Ki-mun."
	Ki-mun bowed, and slipped away through the curtains.
	The regal woman turned and addressed Tarran: "I understand you are
called Tarran. I am Queen Volanda. You may address me as `Your
Majesty'."
	Tarran strained against his chains, and snarled, " I'll do no such
thing. I'd sooner rip out you thro..."
	His threat was strangled off by an invisible something tightening
around his throat.
	Volanda approached and held up her arm in front of Tarran's face.
Reflected on the polished surface of her golden wristband, Tarran
could see, around his neck, the snake necklace that the sorceress
Ki-mun had been wearing earlier. More dammed witchcraft, he cursed
mentally. As soon as Tarran began to think of something other than
ripping out the Queen's heart with his bare hands, the necklace
released its grip.
Tarran sucked in a huge breath and squinted at Volanda. "What foul
magic is this?"
Volanda, smiled and tenderly stoked his cheek, "Nothing foul, I assure
you."
"A simple talisman to insure your cooperation, that's all." 
She held up her hand to display a gold ring with a small inset green
gem, "If you think harmful thoughts toward the bearer of this ring,
the necklace will harm you."
"What do you want?" Tarran asked in desperation.
"I will tell you shortly." 
She moved in closer, undoing the belt about her waist, "But first, I
will take my pleasure with you."
Volanda reached up with both hands and untied the laces at the
shoulders of her robe. It slipped to the floor, and she stood
gloriously nude before Tarran. She closed the space between them until
her big, cushiony breasts were brushing against his chest. She was
nearly as tall as he was. She tilted her head up slightly to see
Tarran's reaction. He looked away defiantly. Volanda chuckled and
slowly squatted, rotating her body from left to right, her hard,
fingertip-sized nipples rubbing over Tarran's rippled abdomen.
Despite his defiance, Tarran's cock began to rise. Volanda cupped her
breasts in her hands and pressed them on either side of Tarran's
stiffening member. She began to stoke him between her, oh so soft,
pillowy breasts. He hardened completely and let out a little sigh.
"Hmmm." Volanda remarked, "His mind rebels, but his cock complies."
She moved into a kneeling position and took his erection in her hands.
Tarran was so big, the Queen was able to wrap both hands, one above
the other around his staff, leaving a thumb's length of the tip
exposed. His shaft was so thick, she could not get her fingers and
thumbs to touch. She gently pumped up and down, causing a drop of
pre-come to ooze out the tip of Tarran's cock. She lowered her mouth
onto it and swirled her tongue around the tip. Her tongue probed the
hole in the end of Tarran's manliness, sending quivers of ecstasy up
his spine.
She sucked and pumped Tarran's massive cock until he began to buck his
hips and breathe hard. Teasing, she stood up, letting Tarran's cock
slip out of her mouth, a thread of spit stretched between her lips and
his meat. She grabbed the rungs of the ladder-like apparatus behind
his back, and lifted herself up. Putting her feet on a lower rung, she
positioned herself so that her wet, glistening cunt lips were just
above his staff.  Gingerly, she lowered herself onto his throbbing
manhood. She squealed with joy as he filled her hot, slick crevice.
Holding herself up on the ladder, she thrust, ground, and swirled her
sex on his meaty sword. She rode him furiously until her body was
washed over by wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure.
With a sigh, she raised her slopping, frothy cunt off his man-meat. As
the tip slipped out, she shuddered. She stood, bent at the waist and,
grabbing Tarran's ass, slid his cunt-juice-covered cock deep into her
mouth. Stroke after deep stroke she skillfully applied. Tarran
struggled against his manacles, aching to run his hands through her
silky hair, and pull it back, so her could see her hot, delightful
mouth working on him.
As if reading his mind, Volanda reached up and pulled her thick,
lustrous hair away from her face, affording Tarran a wonderful view of
her suctioning lips. She looked up and locked eyes with him. This was
just he impetus he needed to send him over the edge. A feeling of
warmth suffused his loins, and he roared like a wild beast as his seed
exploded forth. Volanda moaned as gush after gush of his scalding,
slimy sperm splattered the roof of her mouth. She gulped to swallow
some as it filled her mouth completely.
With one final spasm, Tarran spurted his last load of jism. Volanda
pulled her mouth off him with a wet slurp, and stood, lips pursed. She
grabbed the back of Tarran's head in both her hands and pressed her
mouth on his. She rammed her tongue into his mouth, and along with it
slipped a mouthful of Tarran's come. His eyes widened in shock as he
realized what she was doing. She continued to kiss him long and
fiercely. She held her mouth on his until he had no choice but to
swallow. His own come slid swiftly down this throat.
Feeling him swallow, she released the kiss with an exaggerated smack.
Tarran was silent, but the look on his face belied his anger and
disgust.
"Well," Volanda smirked, "Fair's fair."
She reached up and wiped a dribble of Tarran's ejaculate from his lip.
She licked the drop from her finger and smiled.
"Now, on to business."
Volanda walked over to the lever Ki-mun had yanked earlier and pushed
it all the way forward. There was a muffled clank, and Tarran's arms
dropped to his sides with a rattle of loosened chains. Tarran slumped
against the ladder, wondering exactly what Her Majesty meant by
"business."
Queen Volanda nonchalantly donned her robe and buckled her belt; as if
nothing unusual had just occurred; leaving Tarran stewing in his own
juices, so to speak. Volanda fluffed her hair and straightened her
robe, as she strolled over to one of the hanging curtains. Grasping on
edge she gave a sharp tug, and Tarran heard, from above, the bong of a
bell. The queen continue to primp and preen until, moments later, the
braid wearing Amazon and Ki-mun entered. Ki-mun carried a wide, flat,
brass bowl, and under her
 arm was tucked a folded brass tripod.
The Queen nodded to the braided woman, "Xuxal, you have made our
guest's acquaintance?"
"Yes, my Queen," the braided warrior, Xuxal, sneered, "I have met the
swine."
Ki-mun set up the tripod and placed the bowl on top. With a gesture,
she caused the bowl to magically fill with water.
"All is ready, Queen." Ki-mun stated, indicating the bowl.
Volanda tipped her head in Tarran's direction, "Show him."
Ki-mun sat cross-legged on the stone floor and began to chant under
her breath. The water in the brass bowl clouded, then images began to
form on the surface. Tarran viewed a statue of a naked woman,
straddling a dragon. The dragon was on its back while the woman's
hands clenched its neck in a stranglehold; it's colossal member
piercing her cleft. Her navel held a huge, brightly shining diamond.
"This," said Xuxal, "Is our Goddess L'Nyss. The diamond is her link to
this realm. It was stolen several days ago."
The image shivered and showed a group of black-clad warriors battling
several Amazons. The warriors not only wielded swords, but also cast
devastating spells. Amazons fell one after another before the
battlemages onslaught.
"Ki-mun used her magicks to determine that the thieves were members of
the Cult of Grotussk: demon worshipers. They have often raided our
lands and take our young warmaids for their sinister rites." Xuxal
explained, "But never have they committed such an affront. They have
endangered our very existance..."
Her words trailed off as she realized she was saying too much in her
anger.
"Why show this to me?" Tarran asked.
"Observe." Xuxal replied.
Ki-mun's chant intensified and the water shimmered yet again. An image
formed that sent a shiver of fear down Tarran's spine. He saw the
Amazon Xuxal approach a body. The head was torn off and the torso was
split nearly in half. The body's internal organs and blood were strewn
about the stone floor of the scene. Xuxal bent down an picked a
fist-sized diamond up from the floor next to the corpse. Tarran
shuddered as he realized that the sword, shield, and remaining scraps
of tattered clothing were his. He was looking upon his own body. A
chock of disgust and terror escaped his throat.
"Yes, this is a glimpse of the future," Xuxal said, turning to look
directly into Tarran's eyes, "For us to recover our most precious
treasure. You, Tarran, must die!"























Chapter 2: Tarran and Xuxal
	Tarran was escorted to a well appointed chamber by Xuxal and four
other comely warmaids. Strewn across the bed were Tarran's clothes,
armor, and weapons. As soon as he stepped across the threshold, the
heavy ironwood door was slammed shut and, by the sound of it, locked
and barred.
Tarran growled and shook his head in frustration. A quick glance about
showed no sign of an escape route. The room was windowless and the
walls were of thick, block and mortar construction. Resign himself to
his continued imprisonment, he crossed to he bed and swiftly dressed,
armed, and armored himself. Weary, he lay down upon the bed, sword in
hand and fell into a deep slumber.
Tarren awoke with a start. The door was being unlocked. Like a great
cat, he sprung from the bed and silently crossed the room. He pressed
his back to the wall  beside the door. Sword at ready, he prepared to
strike the first to enter the room. Tarran could not tell how long he
had slept, but he felt refreshed and ready for anything. With no
window, Tarran could not tell if it was night or day, but he hoped it
was night. His escape would be all the more easy if that were the
case.
The door creaked open and a petite, female figured entered. Tarran
raised his sword to cleave her head from her neck, but the accursed
necklace clamped down on his throat. The pain was so intense, it was
all he could do keep standing. He lowered his sword and the pain
diminished.
The woman pushed the door closed without a backward glance and tiptoed
towards the bed.		"Outlander," she whispered, "please wake up."
The woman drew a small spherical object from her robe and gave it a
quick shake. A soft, blue glow emanated from the globe. Tarran took in
the woman's appearance - she was indeed the smallest Amazon  he had
seen yet. She could not possibly be a warmaid -  another sorcereress,
perhaps? Her dark brown hair hung in waves to her shoulders and her
thin, white, gauzy robe did little to conceal her pleasingly
curvaceous figure. Unlike the other women Tarran had seen in this
place, this one had some meat on her bones. From her round bottom to
her ample bosom, she was quite the tasty looking morsel.
The woman gasped when she realized that Tarran was not in the bed. She
turned to flee, but it was too late - with but to quick steps Tarran
was right in front of her. She slammed face first into his chest,
bounced off, and fell backward to land on her delightful rump. The
impact of the landing knocked the glowing sphere from her hand and
sending it rolling under the bed. She turned and scrambled on hands
and knees after it. She disappeared under the bed, but Tarran reached
down and caught her by the ankle. With one deft movement, Tarran
pulled her from beneath the bed and lifted her, upside down, so that
her hair was brushing the floor. Her hands reached up trying vainly to
keep her robe from falling down, but the globe, which she had
recovered, and the awkward way she was dangling impeded her.
"Outlander!" she stammered, "Put me down this instant!"
Tarran gazed at the juncture between her played legs, her pubic hair
was well trimmed and the area around her nether lips was shaved bare.
Tarran licked his lips. This was indeed a fine morsel and he wished to
find out if she was tasty firsthand. He drew her towards him and
inhaled deeply - the scent of her sex filled his nostrils, causing his
member to stiffen.
The woman noticed where Tarran's attention was focused and jammed her
legs together as best she could.
"Please put me down now!" she pleaded.
Tarran did so, casually tossing the woman onto the bed as if she was a
rag doll. She got up onto her knees and tugged her robe down around
her pleasantly curved hips.
"Why bother?" Tarran asked.
"What? I mean how dare..."
"You can't fool me." Tarran said, while unbuckling this armor. "You
came here with a purpose. And a secret one I gather. Not to kill me.
No. You have something else in mind."
Tarran's chain mail fell to the floor, followed in short order by his
clothes. He stood before her in nothing but his boots (and that damned
necklace). His cock was now as hard as rock; a drop of his pre-come
glistening at the tip. The woman's eyes were fixed upon his manhood, a
wanton smile on her lips.
She licked those same full, lusty lips and swallowed hard.
"I am found out." She replied, coyly, batting her thick, dark lashes. 
Tarren noted for the first time that her eyes were the blue-green
color of the deep northern lakes.
"I am D'joli the Sage. I record what conspires here for our Queen.
When I was told of your
`prowess' by Ki-Mun and Queen Volanda .... Well, I had to find out for
myself it if were true."
This sounded like a challenge to Tarran, and he was never one to back
down from a challenge.
"Oh, so you wish to find out first-hand if my `prowess' is real?"
Tarran growled, stepping up to the edge of the bed, "Then so you
shall, wench."
With that, Tarran grabbed D'joli's ankles from beneath her and yanked
them forward, flipping her onto her back. He tugged her towards the
edge, spreading her legs wide. Her robe was scrunched up around her
waist, leaving her loins totally exposed. Tarran placed D'joli's left
foot on his right shoulder and reached down to grasp his manhood.
Slowly, teasingly he began to rub the hot tip of his cock all over her
bare slit, smearing her fragrant juices over her thick, engorged pussy
lips. D'joli groaned and began rotating her hips.
Tarran abruptly pulled away, causing D'joli to mewl and pout, and
stepped from between her outspread legs. Her turned, putting his back
to the bed, gripped D'joli by her hips, and flipped her up so that her
legs were over his shoulders. Her wet sex was pressed against Tarran's
mouth, and his massive cock loomed before her face. Tarran began to
lick and suck on her juicy cunt as D'joli took the tip of his member
into her mouth. She sucked hard on his sensitive tip, occasionally
stopping for a breath and to swirl her delicate pink tongue over the
head of his manhood. Tarran plunged his tongue deeply into D'joli's
wet cunt, making her moan. Her hungry mouth slurped and smacked as she
pleasured him. Slowly Tarran first sat, then lay upon the bed, putting
her body above his. Tarran continued to lick D'joli's pussy as he
reached up and slid two of his rough, callused finger inside her. He
began pumping his fingers in and out, keeping rhythm with his flicking
tongue. After a few minutes of this, D'joli pulled her mouth off
Tarran's member and let out a low,  throaty groan. The muscles of her
thighs began to shake, then suddenly she arched her back and unleashed
an ragged scream. Her pussy squeezed and pulled at Tarran's fingers as
orgasmic pleasure exploded through out her body.
"Ah Goddess!" D'joli exclaimed "That was incredible!"
Tarran withdrew this fingers and shoved D'joli aside. He got up on his
knees and rolled her over. Once again, he grabbed her by the hips and
positioned her so that he was between her legs, and her rump was in
the air. In one swift thrust he entered her. Her pussy was amazingly
warm, wet,  and tight. Tarran grabbed her by the ass and began to slam
his thick rod into her sopping cunt. He pounded her pussy repeatedly;
his big, hairy balls slapping her tender clit with each thrust. Tarran
breathed deeply and exhaled slowly to prolong his pleasure.
Moments later, D'joli began thrusting back as hard as she could;
grasping handfuls of bed clothes and pushing with her arms.  The sound
of the two bodies smacking together was nearly drowned out by D'joli's
hoarse moaning and Tarran's heavy breathing.
Tarran slowed his pace and reached down to press his middle finger
against D'joli's anus. The puckered opening was slick with her juice
and Tarran's spit. His finger pushed slowly into her asshole. D'joli
gasped with first shock,  then pleasure as his finger moved past her
outer sphincter. Tarran backed the finger out a bit, then slid it in
further. All the while he continued to saw his enormous prick in and
out of her dripping wet pussy. With a simultaneous thrust of his cock,
he slid his finger past her inner sphincter, deep into her anal
passage. While thrusting with his manhood, he massaged the tissue
separating D'joli's anus and pussy with his finger.
D'joli began shuddering and stopped pushing back against Tarran. She
dropped down to her elbows and buried her face in the sheets. Tarran's
cock felt the muscles of D'joli's pussy contracting and squeezing,
while at the same time, her asshole was spasming furiously.
"Hhhhhhnnnnnnnggg!" D'joli screamed as her body was wracked with wave
after climactic wave.
It was all Tarran could do to keep from coming himself, but he had
more planned for the sage. He pulled his finger from her anus and
pushed her down on the bed. His cock came free of her pussy and she
quivered with an orgasmic aftershock. Tarran crawled forward and
placed the tip of his battering ram against D'joli's anus. Slowly,
inexorably he pushed his huge erection into D'joli's tiny anal
passage. She was in such a delirious state that she didn't care what
he did, as long as he was inside her. She cried out when Tarran's
member pushed fully into her rectum. But her cries turned from concern
to joy as he began to pump her ass with his cock. She reached under
her belly and began to finger her clit.
After a few minutes of Tarran's cock massaging her anal passage, and
her fingering her clit, D'joli felt another orgasm building. This time
she made no more than a harsh growl. The muscles of her anus began
clamping down on Tarran's cock as her climax overwhelmed her. Tarran
could hold back no more from this stimulation; his own orgasm exploded
within. His cock pulsed as he shot jet upon jet of his hot, sticky
jism into her clenching asshole. He roared like a man-beast and fell
forward,  his chest covering D'joli's back.
"Oh Goddess, oh Goddess, oh Goddess..." D'joli blubbered, over and over,
her body still writhing and shaking from her mind-shattering climax.
Tarran lay upon D'joli's back enjoying each squeeze her ass gave his
cock as she continued to come. After a while he withdrew and D'joli
moaned as his cock popped free from her anus. They were both covered
with a sheen of sweat.
Tarran lay beside her and propped himself up on one elbow.
"So, sage, do you have any doubts of my `prowess' now?"
"Goddess, no!" she smiled, rolling to face him. "I've never felt such
pleasure..."
Suddenly the door was kicked open and Xuxal stormed in.
"What the fuck is going on here! Why is his door unlocked?" 
Xuxal saw Tarran and D'joli's nude forms on the bed and knew at once
what was happening.
"Sage! I should have you beaten for your stupidity. Has lust addled
your brain? This outlander is a dangerous, barbarian pig.  Why he
could have..." She paused and considered the situation.
"Why didn't he escape?" she wondered aloud.
D'joli quickly gathered he robe and fled meekly past Xuxal, leaving a
trail of dripped cum behind her. Xuxal took a step forward, her
sandaled foot sliding on a splatter of Tarran's seed.
"Uuuugh!" she frowned, "Get your clothes and arms, outlander. We are
almost ready to depart. But first we have to see the Queen."
Tarran dressed in silence.
When he was finished Xuxal gestured for him to exit first. As the
walked down the hallway Xuxal gave him further instructions.
"When we meet with the Queen, mind your tongue. Be disrespectful and
I'll personally be happy to cut it out of your dense head. Speak only
when spoken to. Understand?"
"Yes I understand, bitch!" Tarran spat.
Xuxal spun and punched Tarran in the face. She was lightening fast.
Tarran barely had time snap his head back or she would have broken his
nose.
Anger roiled up inside him toward her and  the cursed necklace
agonizingly tightened up, cutting off his breath.
"As long as you wear that choker," Xuxal gloated, "you can harm no
woman. Now move, pigfucker."
They continued onto the Queens chamber in silence.

-