Short sex stories

Erotic fiction and short sex stories




A Caged Songbird Ch. 02

'Sup

So here is the second chapter. I've posted this either because the first got a lot of support, or because it didn't and I decided to submit it anyway. I felt a bit more comfortable while writing this chapter, so don't be confused if the writing style changes slightly.

You know the drill. Please comment, be wise and condomise, all characters are over 18, etc.

-KuraiKusai

*****

Da'aramus Kol and I rode away from the circus camp, turning off of the road and riding for a short while before coming to a smaller camp in the woods of about ten to fifteen men gathered around a fire. One of them came forward as my new master dismounted.

'I trust all went well, Da'aramus-saa?' the stocky man inquired, the "-saa" honorific indicating my master was the youngest son of the family Da'aramus. I stored this information away, despite that I could neither see a situation where it came in handy nor did I know the family Da'aramus, though it was clearly a well-off one, from the looks of the man approaching us.

He was dressed as all the others were, more soldiers than the troop of rangers or hunters she had assumed them to be. The cloth making up their leggings and tunics was simple but of good quality, and the flexible leather armour they wore balanced protection with mobility. While he was short and stocky, every move he made was performed with a sharp and unconscious efficiency, something that could only be developed through years of intense training under a skilled teacher. The more I see of this new master and those around him, the more I learn, I thought to myself, and the more I learn, the more intrigued I become.

'A real bargain, this one was, Filriel,' said Da'aramus with a grin, fetching me from atop the mount, 'The poor fool who had her barely understood the rarity and value of such a creature.' The man, Filriel, examined me with a single, long look, and the only display of his disbelief as he saw my wings was a slight widening in his eyes and a minute clench in the left side of his jaw.

'I see. My congratulations. There is stew in a pot by the fire, and your tent was readied for you while you were absent, Da'aramus-saa.' Filriel attempted a smile, and his tone was affectionate despite the formality of the words. But the smile didn't reach his eyes, and I detected the slightest hint of fear. I felt a familiar rush of bitterness, remembering how the adults of my village had feared me as well, poisoning their innocent children with it and then disguising it as hatred.

'Thanks,' came the easy reply of Da'aramus. Gods, is this man as oblivious as he appears to be? No, I decided as he turned back to me, he sees very well. While he doesn't possess my bird-like eyesight, nor my natural ability to analyse the motions of the face and body, he has known this Filriel for a long time, and can sense his worry.

'So, Mari, are you hungry?' I shook my head. 'Let me rephrase that,' he continued, 'When did you last eat?' I was surprised as my mouth immediately opened to answer. After my first words in almost four years, am I really so eager to speak again? I shut my mouth again, and just looked at him. He frowned slightly in response. But I do not want to speak to the other man, Filriel. I started slightly as Da'aramus brazenly gripped my hand in his and led me over to the fire in the centre of the camp. Da'aramus Kol, who are you to pull words from my lips so easily?

The stew he gave me was rich and delicious. It had cooled, but I savoured it all the same. Da'aramus, however, ate his own portion with both speed and fervour, and watched me until I finished. I found herself sneaking discreet glances of him, noting his stillness in both face and body. Reading this man is a challenge, I thought to myself as I finished the stew. How can he look like a maniac the one minute, a kind man the next, and then go to this blank slate? Blank was the only word I could apply to him in that moment. His face was smooth and his body neutral, devoid of any posturing that might hint his thoughts to me.

I scrubbed my bowl with sand as he had, then turned to face him head on. I perfectly mimicked his body positioning and facial expression, but allowed some of my curiosity and amusement to be communicated by my eyes. His face broke into a grin, and he leapt to his feet, offering his hand as I did the same.

He led me over to his tent. He entered and indicated I should follow, and I did. He stripped down to his underclothes, and crawled into the furs which made up his sleeping pallet, his back to me. I remained where I was, unsure of what he required of me. Where am I to sleep? The floor? The furs? After a long few minutes, he eventually rolled over to regard me with sleepy eyes.

'You'll freeze there, little idiot. Undress and come here.'

Controlling my expression, I began to undress. He stared until I had almost completely removed my torso covering, and then he turned his back to me again. Once he had looked away, I stripped quickly and crawled into the furs, orientating myself until I was back to back with him.

'Goodnight, Mari.'

'Goodnight, Master.'

He paused.

'Kol. Please call me Kol.'

I took a few moments to calm the sudden rush of emotion, before falling into the arms of sleep once more.

*****

When the hushed voices outside the tent finally tugged me out of the comfort of slumber, my groggy mind noticed three things simultaneously. Firstly, judging by the energy and patterns of the birdsong, it was morning. Secondly, I had awoken to uncharacteristic warmth due to the fact my master, Kol, appeared to have rolled over in his sleep and was now cradling me into the curve of his body. Thirdly, my master was very healthy man, as proven by the hard, hot erection pressed into my rear.

I went stiff with shock, and then forcibly relaxed so as not to awaken my master. At first I felt a wave of panic, before he shifted slightly in his sleep, his arms pulling me even closer, my small wings pressed comfortably between my back and his chest.

The hint of arousal I had first felt when riding with my master returned in full force, even stronger due to the weakness of my sleep-addled brain. The hot cock positioned at my ass caused slow warmth to fill my bones, and I felt an urge to rub against the hard member. I want it, I realised. I want to be claimed by this thing, I want to be held so tight I can't breathe and I want this man, my master. I want him to be the one to do it.

Pride kept me from pushing against the stiff member of my sleeping master, but desperate lust kept me from moving away. Kol's arms tightened again, and his light snore tickled the back of my neck. I moaned softly. Once more I was torn between my modesty and my desire, but fortunately for me the decision was taken out of my hands as my moan lifted my master out of sleep.

The arms encircling me abruptly untangled themselves from me and withdrew. I rolled over to look at Kol as he yawned.

'Sorry, Mari. I must've grabbed you in my sleep,' he mumbled as he sat up. Too late I realised that the furs moved with him, baring me to his eyes. My breath hitched as I saw his eyes widen, and I rolled onto my stomach, wrapping my arms around my nudity.

'It matters not, Master . . . Kol.' I waited for him to dress, leave, anything. Anything that would indicate I could get up and clothe myself. I waited. Then, as if out of nowhere, I felt rough fingertips stroking the skin of my lower back. A wave of lust buffeted me, and I gave in, melting into the soft fur beneath me.

Where's your fighting spirit now, coward? jeered a voice in my head. Is acting like a common whore acceptable because it's Da'aramus, and not Yeful? Is it appropriate because he's younger, handsome? Because he hasn't had a chance to beat you yet? To lock you up, to chain and rape you? Not that it could classify as rape, what with you moaning and writhing like any streetwalker. I froze. I knew next to nothing about him. And he had already seen me naked.

Luckily, (unfortunately) his hand withdrew. It was replaced by folds of material, and I turned my head to see the simple leggings and tunic he had dropped there.

"Get dressed. We eat, we pack, we mount, and we leave. Understood?" my master's voice filled the silence. I did as instructed, dressing with my back to him. I finished to find him waiting, already fully clothed. I ate, folded my outfit from last night, and tucked it into one of his saddlebags on the packhorse. He helped me to pack the furs and tent, quietly instructing me if I got confused.

It was an hour or so before he lifted onto a horse again, before mounting his own. Interesting. Last night we rode double. Today, separate. Maybe he doesn't want to wear his horse out. I glanced at the saddlebags, and the camp area with its carefully sand-covered fire site. Perhaps they travelled far. Are they are a roving band? They are equipped too well to be wanderers. The master's family and lands must a long way away. Far enough to warrant a fully trained escort with many packhorses.

I looked to my new master.

Da'aramus Kol. Master. Stranger. Who are you?

*****

We had ridden days, and fallen into dog-tired sleep as the sun drew the blanket of night over its face. The monotonous journey caused my interaction with my master to deteriorate to simple exchanges and silent cuddling. Despite myself, I felt a growing affection for the gentle touches, patient and undemanding.

My master taught me about the land we traversed to his home, speaking softly to me as we rode. He showed me plants and herbs, he recited the histories of tiny hole-in the-road towns and villages. He knew the land, and he loved it in the same way I knew and loved the sky.

One evening, he had refused to sleep until he had taught me a game he had learned as a child; a complex monstrosity of pieces and points by the name "jurem." At first I resented anything that kept me from blissful unconsciousness, but my natural curiosity glued my eyes to the board. I had never been competitive. Any games I had played in my early life were solitary, and I learned to enjoy my natural introversion. But as I tried my first game, and lost, I saw Kol's normally even expression stretch into an impossible wide grin. It was completely natural, and absolutely divine.

That his ever-present self-control broke for a moment, because of me, sent liquid joy through my veins. My eyes ate up that smile, claimed it as if it had only ever existed for me. My eyelids drooped, my body ached, but my mind was alive as I challenged him over and over again. I lost every time

But after the fourth or fifth game, he looked right into my eyes, and laughed. His laughter filled the almost-silence of night with childlike enjoyment, echoing and rebounding through the forest. Before I could catch myself, my own face broke into a smile.

I hated that smile. I hated it with every fibre of pride and self-preservation in my being. It stank of hope; hope that the first shreds of honestly affectionate attention I ever remembered receiving would continue. I hated it even more when it caused his laughter to stop, and his own grin to disappear.

Then he leaned over the jurem board and pressed his lips to mine.

They were thin and chapped, but his breath was hot and his tongue was firm and slick as it eventually reached into my mouth to stoke my desire into something warm and wonderful. His hand came down between us to support himself, as the other rose up to run rough fingertips over my jaw, my neck.

He pulled back to stare at my face. Please, please, don't look away. Look at me. Look only at me. He turned, and began packing up the jurem pieces. Irrationally, impossibly, tears filled my eyes. Can I not hold a man's attention for more than a few minutes? Am I really that worthless?

He finished packing, and turned back to me. He stared impassively at the stupid saltwater in my eyes, before reaching out to me. His arms encircled and lifted me like they had the night he bought me. I buried my face in his jerkin to stifle my crying as he moved over to the tent we shared. Laying me down in the furs, he stripped me quickly before removing his own clothes. The kiss he pressed into my mouth was lubricated by my tears, and more than once he licked his way up salty tracks to close my eyes with more kisses.

"Mari." He said my name as a statement. A word with no question attached to it, no demand or request hidden in the tilt of its syllables. I opened my eyes to see him pulling back. "Say it." I stared at him in confusion. His face gave nothing away. "Mari. You have something to say. Say it."

Ages seemed to pass as I looked up at him. Those words, those deadly, desperate, desirable words welled up and battered at my inner walls.

"Kol." The word fought its way past my lips. "Kol. Look at me."

"Which part of you?" came his soft reply.

"All of me."

His eyes bored into mine, and his hands played over my body. They traced my collarbone, stroked my breasts, caressed my stomach. He stopped and lifted my legs up and apart, focusing on the glistening pink flesh at the juncture of my thighs. "I suppose here is as good a place as any to start."

Then he bent his head, and I felt his tongue trace my lower lips, before pushing into my centre, lapping up the hot moisture that flowed from my cunt. I gasped, tears forgotten. It felt so much better than when I touched myself, so much hotter, so foreign. I felt delicious pressure on my clitoris, and my wide eyes drank in the sight of his thumb circling and caressing the little bud, while his tongue and lips devoured me.

My hands threaded through his hair, tugging gently as I moaned and writhed beneath him. But as I reached the brink of orgasm, he pulled hand and mouth away from me completely. I stared up at him in shock as his eyes locked onto mine, ignoring my weeping pussy, desperate for one last touch. Without looking away, he lowered his head, moving his mouth to my inner thigh, not quite touching me where I most needed it.

And then he bit down.

I gasped. I could feel my flesh bruising slightly under his strong teeth, but it was not not hard enough to break the skin. It was so unexpected, so feral, so delicious to have him show domination over my flesh, that I came. My pussy spasmed wildly, clutching at a tongue and fingers that weren't there, and my body involuntarily pulled me upright, freeing my wings as they exploded into their full size, every feather trembling like the tortured flesh of my cunt. I rode my orgasm like that, unable to make a sound other than the twisted whimpers which tore themselves from my lips as the skin of the tent stretched to accommodate my wingspan.

Finally, it ended.

My whole body relaxed as I fell back onto my back, my wings cushioning the impact. I let out a long sigh, before looking down at my master, between my legs. Kol looked back at me with huge eyes, his mouth slightly open. I blushed.

"Thank you, Master Kol," I said into the silence of the tent. He sat up, and I was able to survey his body. His skin smoothed over his lean, muscular build, and dark blonde hair decorated his arms, legs, and chest. As I watched, one hand moved down between his front, to grasp at the member which now commanded my attention.

I had seen boys' penises before. When I was a child, there was a communal hot springs for the whole village, and while I soaked I caught glimpses of the naked boys, their mothers pulling them out of the hot water to hurry them home, away from the feathered freak. But my master was not a boy. He was a man, and his cock reflected that. It was long, and thick, and beautiful.

I don't know how a cock can be beautiful. It looks so odd, sticking out from the body as if glued on, not really fitting in with the rest of the view. But my master's cock was beautiful. It was hard, and proudly jutted out from his groin. My mouth went dry, and then inexplicably filled with saliva.

"Mari," he said. I forced my eyes up to his. Strands of blonde hair stuck to his face, and his warm brown eyes were harsh and excited. His hand began to slowly jerk his cock, and I stared at it, transfixed. He moved closer, but I never took my eyes off of his hand, stroking the shaft of flesh. I felt his free hand snaked around to the back of my neck, cupping it. I almost whined with pleasure. The back of my neck is a highly erogenous zone for me.

With his grip on my neck, he slowly forced my head down until I was a hand's length away from his cock. I breathed in deeply, devouring the scent of his sweat. I allowed him to move me across the distance between us, his cock now but a centimetre from my lips. I stuck out my tongue, and tentatively licked the head. Looking up to see the triumphant grin splitting his face, and the heat in his eyes, I lost all inhibition, and his hand tightened on the back of my neck, moving me until the head of his cock pushed my lips apart.

His hand flew up and down his cock as my tongue to circle the head. Once, twice, thrice, and then I thrust my tongue forward to stroke the underside of the head. He groaned, and pulled me down further. I gagged as his cock hit the back of my throat, and he held me there as his hand continued to stroke the remaining length. Then he began to pull out, and trust back in until I gagged, and then a little bit further. He did it again and again, slowly gaining ground until finally, I had it all.

His entire cock was in my mouth and down my throat. My eyes did not leave his. His other hand joined the one behind my neck, and they both moved to hold my head. He pulled out, and pushed back in, increasing in speed and force, using my mouth for his pleasure. But he wasn't the only one enjoying himself.

I felt so dirty, so used, and my slick cunt was weeping again. Freed by my debasement, I shamelessly slipped a hand between my legs and frantically rubbed my clit. His eyes displayed his approval as I pleasured myself, moaning on his cock like a whore.

Suddenly, he shoved all the way in, and he groaned. I felt his cock spurting inside my throat. His cum . . . inside me. I rubbed faster and harder, and hit my orgasm, shuddering through waves of pleasure as his cock fed me his cum. He pulled out slightly, his cockhead resting on my tongue, allowing me to savour the last few spurts of seed in my mouth.

When we both finished, he pulled out. I swallowed and, on impulse, licked him clean as well. He brushed my hair behind my ear, and then kissed me. I forced my wings into their common, compact form. We settled into the furs together, and he pulled my back into his chest.

Together, exhausted, we slipped into dreamless sleep.

*****'Sup

So here is the second chapter. I've posted this either because the first got a lot of support, or because it didn't and I decided to submit it anyway. I felt a bit more comfortable while writing this chapter, so don't be confused if the writing style changes slightly.

You know the drill. Please comment, be wise and condomise, all characters are over 18, etc.

-KuraiKusai

*****

Da'aramus Kol and I rode away from the circus camp, turning off of the road and riding for a short while before coming to a smaller camp in the woods of about ten to fifteen men gathered around a fire. One of them came forward as my new master dismounted.

'I trust all went well, Da'aramus-saa?' the stocky man inquired, the "-saa" honorific indicating my master was the youngest son of the family Da'aramus. I stored this information away, despite that I could neither see a situation where it came in handy nor did I know the family Da'aramus, though it was clearly a well-off one, from the looks of the man approaching us.

He was dressed as all the others were, more soldiers than the troop of rangers or hunters she had assumed them to be. The cloth making up their leggings and tunics was simple but of good quality, and the flexible leather armour they wore balanced protection with mobility. While he was short and stocky, every move he made was performed with a sharp and unconscious efficiency, something that could only be developed through years of intense training under a skilled teacher. The more I see of this new master and those around him, the more I learn, I thought to myself, and the more I learn, the more intrigued I become.

'A real bargain, this one was, Filriel,' said Da'aramus with a grin, fetching me from atop the mount, 'The poor fool who had her barely understood the rarity and value of such a creature.' The man, Filriel, examined me with a single, long look, and the only display of his disbelief as he saw my wings was a slight widening in his eyes and a minute clench in the left side of his jaw.

'I see. My congratulations. There is stew in a pot by the fire, and your tent was readied for you while you were absent, Da'aramus-saa.' Filriel attempted a smile, and his tone was affectionate despite the formality of the words. But the smile didn't reach his eyes, and I detected the slightest hint of fear. I felt a familiar rush of bitterness, remembering how the adults of my village had feared me as well, poisoning their innocent children with it and then disguising it as hatred.

'Thanks,' came the easy reply of Da'aramus. Gods, is this man as oblivious as he appears to be? No, I decided as he turned back to me, he sees very well. While he doesn't possess my bird-like eyesight, nor my natural ability to analyse the motions of the face and body, he has known this Filriel for a long time, and can sense his worry.

'So, Mari, are you hungry?' I shook my head. 'Let me rephrase that,' he continued, 'When did you last eat?' I was surprised as my mouth immediately opened to answer. After my first words in almost four years, am I really so eager to speak again? I shut my mouth again, and just looked at him. He frowned slightly in response. But I do not want to speak to the other man, Filriel. I started slightly as Da'aramus brazenly gripped my hand in his and led me over to the fire in the centre of the camp. Da'aramus Kol, who are you to pull words from my lips so easily?

The stew he gave me was rich and delicious. It had cooled, but I savoured it all the same. Da'aramus, however, ate his own portion with both speed and fervour, and watched me until I finished. I found herself sneaking discreet glances of him, noting his stillness in both face and body. Reading this man is a challenge, I thought to myself as I finished the stew. How can he look like a maniac the one minute, a kind man the next, and then go to this blank slate? Blank was the only word I could apply to him in that moment. His face was smooth and his body neutral, devoid of any posturing that might hint his thoughts to me.

I scrubbed my bowl with sand as he had, then turned to face him head on. I perfectly mimicked his body positioning and facial expression, but allowed some of my curiosity and amusement to be communicated by my eyes. His face broke into a grin, and he leapt to his feet, offering his hand as I did the same.

He led me over to his tent. He entered and indicated I should follow, and I did. He stripped down to his underclothes, and crawled into the furs which made up his sleeping pallet, his back to me. I remained where I was, unsure of what he required of me. Where am I to sleep? The floor? The furs? After a long few minutes, he eventually rolled over to regard me with sleepy eyes.

'You'll freeze there, little idiot. Undress and come here.'

Controlling my expression, I began to undress. He stared until I had almost completely removed my torso covering, and then he turned his back to me again. Once he had looked away, I stripped quickly and crawled into the furs, orientating myself until I was back to back with him.

'Goodnight, Mari.'

'Goodnight, Master.'

He paused.

'Kol. Please call me Kol.'

I took a few moments to calm the sudden rush of emotion, before falling into the arms of sleep once more.

*****

When the hushed voices outside the tent finally tugged me out of the comfort of slumber, my groggy mind noticed three things simultaneously. Firstly, judging by the energy and patterns of the birdsong, it was morning. Secondly, I had awoken to uncharacteristic warmth due to the fact my master, Kol, appeared to have rolled over in his sleep and was now cradling me into the curve of his body. Thirdly, my master was very healthy man, as proven by the hard, hot erection pressed into my rear.

I went stiff with shock, and then forcibly relaxed so as not to awaken my master. At first I felt a wave of panic, before he shifted slightly in his sleep, his arms pulling me even closer, my small wings pressed comfortably between my back and his chest.

The hint of arousal I had first felt when riding with my master returned in full force, even stronger due to the weakness of my sleep-addled brain. The hot cock positioned at my ass caused slow warmth to fill my bones, and I felt an urge to rub against the hard member. I want it, I realised. I want to be claimed by this thing, I want to be held so tight I can't breathe and I want this man, my master. I want him to be the one to do it.

Pride kept me from pushing against the stiff member of my sleeping master, but desperate lust kept me from moving away. Kol's arms tightened again, and his light snore tickled the back of my neck. I moaned softly. Once more I was torn between my modesty and my desire, but fortunately for me the decision was taken out of my hands as my moan lifted my master out of sleep.

The arms encircling me abruptly untangled themselves from me and withdrew. I rolled over to look at Kol as he yawned.

'Sorry, Mari. I must've grabbed you in my sleep,' he mumbled as he sat up. Too late I realised that the furs moved with him, baring me to his eyes. My breath hitched as I saw his eyes widen, and I rolled onto my stomach, wrapping my arms around my nudity.

'It matters not, Master . . . Kol.' I waited for him to dress, leave, anything. Anything that would indicate I could get up and clothe myself. I waited. Then, as if out of nowhere, I felt rough fingertips stroking the skin of my lower back. A wave of lust buffeted me, and I gave in, melting into the soft fur beneath me.

Where's your fighting spirit now, coward? jeered a voice in my head. Is acting like a common whore acceptable because it's Da'aramus, and not Yeful? Is it appropriate because he's younger, handsome? Because he hasn't had a chance to beat you yet? To lock you up, to chain and rape you? Not that it could classify as rape, what with you moaning and writhing like any streetwalker. I froze. I knew next to nothing about him. And he had already seen me naked.

Luckily, (unfortunately) his hand withdrew. It was replaced by folds of material, and I turned my head to see the simple leggings and tunic he had dropped there.

"Get dressed. We eat, we pack, we mount, and we leave. Understood?" my master's voice filled the silence. I did as instructed, dressing with my back to him. I finished to find him waiting, already fully clothed. I ate, folded my outfit from last night, and tucked it into one of his saddlebags on the packhorse. He helped me to pack the furs and tent, quietly instructing me if I got confused.

It was an hour or so before he lifted onto a horse again, before mounting his own. Interesting. Last night we rode double. Today, separate. Maybe he doesn't want to wear his horse out. I glanced at the saddlebags, and the camp area with its carefully sand-covered fire site. Perhaps they travelled far. Are they are a roving band? They are equipped too well to be wanderers. The master's family and lands must a long way away. Far enough to warrant a fully trained escort with many packhorses.

I looked to my new master.

Da'aramus Kol. Master. Stranger. Who are you?

*****

We had ridden days, and fallen into dog-tired sleep as the sun drew the blanket of night over its face. The monotonous journey caused my interaction with my master to deteriorate to simple exchanges and silent cuddling. Despite myself, I felt a growing affection for the gentle touches, patient and undemanding.

My master taught me about the land we traversed to his home, speaking softly to me as we rode. He showed me plants and herbs, he recited the histories of tiny hole-in the-road towns and villages. He knew the land, and he loved it in the same way I knew and loved the sky.

One evening, he had refused to sleep until he had taught me a game he had learned as a child; a complex monstrosity of pieces and points by the name "jurem." At first I resented anything that kept me from blissful unconsciousness, but my natural curiosity glued my eyes to the board. I had never been competitive. Any games I had played in my early life were solitary, and I learned to enjoy my natural introversion. But as I tried my first game, and lost, I saw Kol's normally even expression stretch into an impossible wide grin. It was completely natural, and absolutely divine.

That his ever-present self-control broke for a moment, because of me, sent liquid joy through my veins. My eyes ate up that smile, claimed it as if it had only ever existed for me. My eyelids drooped, my body ached, but my mind was alive as I challenged him over and over again. I lost every time

But after the fourth or fifth game, he looked right into my eyes, and laughed. His laughter filled the almost-silence of night with childlike enjoyment, echoing and rebounding through the forest. Before I could catch myself, my own face broke into a smile.

I hated that smile. I hated it with every fibre of pride and self-preservation in my being. It stank of hope; hope that the first shreds of honestly affectionate attention I ever remembered receiving would continue. I hated it even more when it caused his laughter to stop, and his own grin to disappear.

Then he leaned over the jurem board and pressed his lips to mine.

They were thin and chapped, but his breath was hot and his tongue was firm and slick as it eventually reached into my mouth to stoke my desire into something warm and wonderful. His hand came down between us to support himself, as the other rose up to run rough fingertips over my jaw, my neck.

He pulled back to stare at my face. Please, please, don't look away. Look at me. Look only at me. He turned, and began packing up the jurem pieces. Irrationally, impossibly, tears filled my eyes. Can I not hold a man's attention for more than a few minutes? Am I really that worthless?

He finished packing, and turned back to me. He stared impassively at the stupid saltwater in my eyes, before reaching out to me. His arms encircled and lifted me like they had the night he bought me. I buried my face in his jerkin to stifle my crying as he moved over to the tent we shared. Laying me down in the furs, he stripped me quickly before removing his own clothes. The kiss he pressed into my mouth was lubricated by my tears, and more than once he licked his way up salty tracks to close my eyes with more kisses.

"Mari." He said my name as a statement. A word with no question attached to it, no demand or request hidden in the tilt of its syllables. I opened my eyes to see him pulling back. "Say it." I stared at him in confusion. His face gave nothing away. "Mari. You have something to say. Say it."

Ages seemed to pass as I looked up at him. Those words, those deadly, desperate, desirable words welled up and battered at my inner walls.

"Kol." The word fought its way past my lips. "Kol. Look at me."

"Which part of you?" came his soft reply.

"All of me."

His eyes bored into mine, and his hands played over my body. They traced my collarbone, stroked my breasts, caressed my stomach. He stopped and lifted my legs up and apart, focusing on the glistening pink flesh at the juncture of my thighs. "I suppose here is as good a place as any to start."

Then he bent his head, and I felt his tongue trace my lower lips, before pushing into my centre, lapping up the hot moisture that flowed from my cunt. I gasped, tears forgotten. It felt so much better than when I touched myself, so much hotter, so foreign. I felt delicious pressure on my clitoris, and my wide eyes drank in the sight of his thumb circling and caressing the little bud, while his tongue and lips devoured me.

My hands threaded through his hair, tugging gently as I moaned and writhed beneath him. But as I reached the brink of orgasm, he pulled hand and mouth away from me completely. I stared up at him in shock as his eyes locked onto mine, ignoring my weeping pussy, desperate for one last touch. Without looking away, he lowered his head, moving his mouth to my inner thigh, not quite touching me where I most needed it.

And then he bit down.

I gasped. I could feel my flesh bruising slightly under his strong teeth, but it was not not hard enough to break the skin. It was so unexpected, so feral, so delicious to have him show domination over my flesh, that I came. My pussy spasmed wildly, clutching at a tongue and fingers that weren't there, and my body involuntarily pulled me upright, freeing my wings as they exploded into their full size, every feather trembling like the tortured flesh of my cunt. I rode my orgasm like that, unable to make a sound other than the twisted whimpers which tore themselves from my lips as the skin of the tent stretched to accommodate my wingspan.

Finally, it ended.

My whole body relaxed as I fell back onto my back, my wings cushioning the impact. I let out a long sigh, before looking down at my master, between my legs. Kol looked back at me with huge eyes, his mouth slightly open. I blushed.

"Thank you, Master Kol," I said into the silence of the tent. He sat up, and I was able to survey his body. His skin smoothed over his lean, muscular build, and dark blonde hair decorated his arms, legs, and chest. As I watched, one hand moved down between his front, to grasp at the member which now commanded my attention.

I had seen boys' penises before. When I was a child, there was a communal hot springs for the whole village, and while I soaked I caught glimpses of the naked boys, their mothers pulling them out of the hot water to hurry them home, away from the feathered freak. But my master was not a boy. He was a man, and his cock reflected that. It was long, and thick, and beautiful.

I don't know how a cock can be beautiful. It looks so odd, sticking out from the body as if glued on, not really fitting in with the rest of the view. But my master's cock was beautiful. It was hard, and proudly jutted out from his groin. My mouth went dry, and then inexplicably filled with saliva.

"Mari," he said. I forced my eyes up to his. Strands of blonde hair stuck to his face, and his warm brown eyes were harsh and excited. His hand began to slowly jerk his cock, and I stared at it, transfixed. He moved closer, but I never took my eyes off of his hand, stroking the shaft of flesh. I felt his free hand snaked around to the back of my neck, cupping it. I almost whined with pleasure. The back of my neck is a highly erogenous zone for me.

With his grip on my neck, he slowly forced my head down until I was a hand's length away from his cock. I breathed in deeply, devouring the scent of his sweat. I allowed him to move me across the distance between us, his cock now but a centimetre from my lips. I stuck out my tongue, and tentatively licked the head. Looking up to see the triumphant grin splitting his face, and the heat in his eyes, I lost all inhibition, and his hand tightened on the back of my neck, moving me until the head of his cock pushed my lips apart.

His hand flew up and down his cock as my tongue to circle the head. Once, twice, thrice, and then I thrust my tongue forward to stroke the underside of the head. He groaned, and pulled me down further. I gagged as his cock hit the back of my throat, and he held me there as his hand continued to stroke the remaining length. Then he began to pull out, and trust back in until I gagged, and then a little bit further. He did it again and again, slowly gaining ground until finally, I had it all.

His entire cock was in my mouth and down my throat. My eyes did not leave his. His other hand joined the one behind my neck, and they both moved to hold my head. He pulled out, and pushed back in, increasing in speed and force, using my mouth for his pleasure. But he wasn't the only one enjoying himself.

I felt so dirty, so used, and my slick cunt was weeping again. Freed by my debasement, I shamelessly slipped a hand between my legs and frantically rubbed my clit. His eyes displayed his approval as I pleasured myself, moaning on his cock like a whore.

Suddenly, he shoved all the way in, and he groaned. I felt his cock spurting inside my throat. His cum . . . inside me. I rubbed faster and harder, and hit my orgasm, shuddering through waves of pleasure as his cock fed me his cum. He pulled out slightly, his cockhead resting on my tongue, allowing me to savour the last few spurts of seed in my mouth.

When we both finished, he pulled out. I swallowed and, on impulse, licked him clean as well. He brushed my hair behind my ear, and then kissed me. I forced my wings into their common, compact form. We settled into the furs together, and he pulled my back into his chest.

Together, exhausted, we slipped into dreamless sleep.

*****

songbird   caged  

Mar 2, 2018 in blowjob

Tags

Search