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 Insatiable Interlude 

by 

 Ann Cory

Prologue

Ethereal music filled the air, drops of golden sap fell from the ancient Yakshas, and the cries of the songbirds disturbed the sacred emerald grove. One by one, the fragile strings of the instrument broke and extended to his pale flesh.  Around his neck they wove and tightened until a single drop of blood fell. 

She looked on in satisfaction, and the dampness between her thighs became noticeable to her. A thin river of crimson bled along the ground until it found a place to rest. The roots of the Yakshas stirred, and welcomed the rush of renewed energy deep inside. A rush of cool wind blew her naked body back into the box, where she would wait for another to play her a song.

Derrick walked the winding trail, his boots worn to the soles. Heavy blankets had been left behind, as the extra weight had become a burden. His friend was to catch up to him soon, after a hunt for their late breakfast.

The night had been long, but neither could sleep and agreed it better to continue on by the light of the moon. Nightfall had been delayed again with the presence of a harvest moon. The pinkish-orange glow lit up the sky like a rupture of soft flames, haunting yet full of splendor.

While the lack of sleep would catch up to him soon, he had the mindset to make the most of the day. Animal tracks had been fossilized into the dry, barren earth–prints they hoped to not have to worry about any time soon. With the food scarce, they could only do so much, and didn’t want to risk carrying around anything with a tainted scent for long. 

Only weeks away from the town of Montage, where work was to be had, they were still ahead of schedule. The fire in their own village had burned the only source for money, and men everywhere set off to find new work. With winter a mere three months away, no one could afford to wait.

Derrick looked up into the trees full of lush foliage and songbirds. He was reminded that beauty did still exist, and that all you had to do was look. A cardinal poked its head around and dashed to a limb to welcome him with a melody. He hummed along with the spirited sonata and enjoyed the lazy draft of air against his face. 

“Rabbit!” shouted his friend, his face red and sweat-covered. 

Derrick turned and raised his arm.“Tasty choice,” he called back. 

“I hated to do it,” Prado panted as he ran to catch up. “I’m still much too sensitive to be a hunter.”

“To harm any creature is difficult to stomach, but it’s the way things are. You don’t want to hear my speech on the whole food chain subject again, do you?”

He enjoyed the young man’s gentle nature. It was one of the qualities that had shown through from the first day they met.

“No, you can spare me. I know that once it’s in my stomach, I’m sure to get over it,” his friend laughed heartily.

“You’re an expert hunter, and I could learn a lot from you. Because of your patience, we eat like kings when others are scrounging. Were it not for you, I’d be skin and bones by now.”

Prado beamed with pride. “You know very well that I learned everything from you.”

“Maybe so, but you’ve outdone the teacher now, and for that I’m proud. Besides, these temperamental joints of mine keep me from being as spry as you.” 

“You’re not old Derrick, but you are wise beyond your years.”

“Why thank you, that’s quite a compliment coming from such a young man as yourself, who I’m sure will never age. You have a youthful spirit, and I envy that. I fear I’ve become much too cynical and lost my sense of adventure. Come, let us look for a place where we can sit and enjoy this hearty meal.”

The two walked in silence for another few miles when they came to an open area with ample shade.

“This looks like the perfect place to cook this little beast up and rest a spell. What do you think?” Derrick pointed to the lump of bloodstained fur. “Then if it should rain, we’ll be well sheltered.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Prado tossed his pack to the soft earth’s floor.

He ran his hand along his thick brown hair and started to set up camp.

“Shall I make my famous rabbit stew?”

A loud rumble echoed between the men. Derrick rubbed his stomach and gave a sheepish look. “I think you have your answer.”

“Consider it done. A nice warm meal will do us good and restore our energy. If we continue to have more clear weather like it’s been, we’ll be looking good for time.”

“At this rate, we’ll be in Montage early enough to get to know our way around the town. I’m looking forward to a nice home cooked meal, with fresh baked muffins and pounds of potatoes. Of course I mean no disrespect to the feasts you’ve provided my friend, it would just be nice to not have to hunt for our own food.”

“I take no offense, for I feel as you do. You’re just lucky I enjoy cooking,” his friend mused. “Of course, I’m afraid I’ve spoiled you now. I, on the other hand, may never know what it’s like to be served again.”

“I’m sure you’ll find yourself a golden-haired lass who will happily cook for you.”

“That’s a delicious incentive to keep me going without food or rest. To be in the company of a woman would be an experience I’ve not had for a long time. I’d probably come across as an immature fool. But first, I’ll charm her with my dashing good looks.”

“Here, here!” Derrick laughed and thrust his arm in the air. “Now let me have a look at this place we’ll call home for the night.”

He scouted the site, inspecting the soil between his fingers. A swim in a cool, refreshing lake had been his goal for days, but they hadn’t come to such a place thus far. Off in the distance he could barely make out a subtle trickle of water.

“I think we’ll finally get a chance to clean ourselves up tomorrow. Wouldn’t that be nice? You’ve so much grime on your face, I’d think you were growing a beard.”

“I can’t say you look too bad, since you’ve got that whole rugged, adventure guide look to you, but you could do with a sweeter scent.”

Derrick walked over and lightly punched his friend in the arm. “That’s for stroking my vanity.”

After a few more times around the site, he decided his legs were too restless to be of much use. “It looks like there’s plenty of firewood to take care of supper, but we may need more for later. I’m going to have a quick look around a little farther in the woods, and then I’ll join you in dinner preparations.”

“Admit it, you hate to watch me cut the poor animal up. For such a strong man, you have a very soft side.”

“Yes it’s true, but don’t tell anyone,” Derrick whispered with a finger to his lips.

“Just don’t get lost or I’ll have to eat this all by myself.”

“Not a chance,” Derrick shot back, and gave a nod to his friend.

With several paths to choose from, he let his intuition be his guide.

Behold the Beauty

by
Megan Hussey

Chapter One

     Beausoleil had his fill of simpering maidens vying to become his bride. In the eyes of his female admirers, the maidens of a Utopian land where his family ruled supreme, his masculine beauty shone as radiantly as the sun above him.

     They sometimes spoke in admiration – or in outright envy – about his hair, which was the hue of pure gold and fell in luxurious waves down his smoothly planed back.

     “I swear, the lasses are either begging for my room key or the brand name of my shampoo,” he scoffed. 

     And they giggled among themselves, and sometimes wrote achingly bad poetry, about his skin that held a hint of bronze that covered a tall, muscular frame.

     His eyes sometimes widened in apparent irritation or outright fear as he heard their blunt, loudly spoken observations. But all they noticed was the fact that those eyes shone “like emeralds” from a sculpted face.  They drooled (and in some bizarre instances swooned) as they regarded a mouth, full and sensual, and they openly basked in the warmth of his disposition, which generally was as sunny as his moniker.

     Generally.

     “I’ll have no more of this!  I declare, all the panting and drooling stops now!”      

     Beausoleil, or Prince Beau as the citizens of Ravenshead called him, issued this declaration in his father’s great hall—a massive room with a towering ceiling, an intricately carved fireplace lined with fine silver pottery, and wooden tables filled with guests.

     These elite villagers were titled lords and ladies who gathered this day for a feast hosted by King Benjamin, Beausoleil’s father.

     Benjamin was known as the man who ruled Ravenshead, a small, elite nation on the border of other lands sovereigned by gentry representatives of various nations; titled folk who yearned for larger lands, luxury and, in many cases, uninterrupted debauchery. Indeed, while they praised Benjamin’s leadership skills, Beau was truly known as the man who served prime ale at his monthly feasts.

     Yet, as guests were presented with bountiful tankards, as well as plates stocked with beef, pork, cheese and fruit, Beau was presented with heaping helpings of eligible females – all vying for a seat beside him at the head table.

     “This is insane,” he told his smirking father, a blond, broad-shouldered man who himself cut a striking figure.  “I want simply to enjoy a good meal and the wit-filled tales of our storyteller, not to be ogled and pawed like a side of raw venison.”

     But it was too late.  He saw the whites of their eyes, and of their under-shifts, as they flipped their colorful skirts to gift him with a subtle ‘flash.’

     “Aye, but I am blessed,” thought Beau, rolling his eyes heavenward.

     His gaze then shifted to a long, lavishly designed tapestry that adorned the far end of the hall.

     A work of sheer teal velvet, handcrafted by a castle weaver, the tapestry depicted a forest scene in all its earthly glory. Tall, noble trees stood beside bountiful bushes. Both boasted leaves of dew-glistened emerald, and provided a mystical setting for a lone fallow deer with a rich chestnut coat.

     Beau felt a strange affinity for the regal stag—one who he perceived not only prized his freedom, but yearned for a greater measure of it—along with some treasured privacy.

     Mumbling his uneasy apologies, Beau rose from the table and walked abruptly from the hall.  He knew he probably appeared a bit desperate, sprinting across the castle courtyard and into his father’s stables, but frankly, he was beyond caring about the opinions of his father’s elite, debauched friends.

     Xavier, his prized ebony stallion, pawed restlessly as Beau saddled and bridled him.

     “Aye, Lad, I know,” Beau whispered in a soothing tone. “We shall leave here.  We shall take a ride through the forest, forget the lot of them, and leave them behind.”

     With this, he mounted the regal horse in one swift motion.

     The two of them escaped into the dark of night.

Ménage

by 

Mae Powers

Chapter One

Midnight, the darken hours the time between twilight and dawn to some, and an apex of otherworldly things to others. The time of strangeness and strength and a happening of power to those who knew how to wield it. And Tagreth did.

She harnessed the power of night, specifically the midnight passage between the worlds of the mortal and immortal. It was a time and an essence of being, when she felt her energies at their fullest. When she was most powerful. When she could grant those she favored their deepest desires.

The one desire she had the most right now was to make him come. Come into her and sheath himself within her midnight folds of wet flesh. A dark wetness only he had been able to ever make her achieve. Even during her brief spite of being human she never felt anything this overwhelming.

Tagreth sat within her shell-shaped throne, looking out over the vast ocean that bordered her realm. The maw opening of the darkened throne-room of her temple cavern allowed for her to see the huge moon sink low into the water’s horizon. Before long her force would be even stronger. As powerful as she was, her energies were greater at night. And he would come to her again, very soon. She clenched her fists and licked her lips in anticipation. Soon, he’d be hers.

He had been the most obstinate, the most resistive, and the most cunning, and still was. And he was the sexiest most sensual priest who served her realm. And he was married. Soon, she would bait him, out-smart him, and then make him hers. She smiled a cold hard smile. Oh he would be worth it. The heat that emanated from his body would fuel her desires for years to come. She would not let anything stand in her way of her need to have his shaft rammed deeply into her cunt. And by the blood of the six Elder gods, she would make sure that the two people, who stood in her way, would not find it easy to thwart her desires.

She had a mound of love servants with impressive cocks to lather her with their attentions and fuck her as much as she wanted. She had two of the most lustiest elder gods, who were on a power level of her own might, ravishing her wanton body often enough. Yet still, she remained unsatisfied. And all because of a mortal. She could not force him to lay with her, to use that delicious looking penis upon her, but there were ways around his stubbornness. Being the goddess of midnight desires and lustful needs did have its benefits. She was also the goddess of the hearth, and that went well with her plans for him.

Especially since he was married, and a First Husband, whose pathetic wife and spiteful sister were service bound to Tagreth. She thought hard about what she would do to get him to comply with her. Thoughts formed in her ancient devious mind. Never had she wanted a man so much. Her cunt ached and her mind spun with wicked plans. Oh yes, she thought, I have much in mind for my precious priest. He never should have turned me down.

“My goddess, might I naught please you tonight?”

She looked up from her shell-throne and glanced at one of her many lovers. He was tall, athletic and hung well, and almost the coloring of the man she desired. She would find a way right now to satisfy some of her own lustful needs, and while she did so, perhaps she would come up with the perfect plan to turn Zied to her way of thinking.

She waved her hand at the male servant. Now he looked taller, more muscular, with wavy hair that tapered in layers down to a nicely rounded taut ass. His skin was almost as dark as her own, but softer like a mauve-brown gleaming in the palest moonlight. His hair was like a shining amber moon, like his eyes. She opened her legs and leaned back on plump red pillows.

He knelt down before her, and without having to be told, he lowered his face to her dark sable curls. Ah, her own personal heaven. Yes, his long tongue pleased her well. He lapped at her with fierce abandonment. She writhed beneath him as his mouth and tongue did wild teasing motions around her pussy.

“Open my lips with your fingers. Slide those large fingers in my hot cunt now.” Oh yes, she needed this long foreplay. It helped her to think more on how she could get Zied to do her bidding. She may have him captive in her dark realm, but natural forces of this world kept her from forcing him to fuck her with that hot big cock of his, as long as he was of his own mind. However there were ways to get him to do her bidding. Some of them could be very entertaining. Yes, soon she would have Zied doing to her what her imaginary Zied lover was doing to her.

She’d be damned herself if she let that damn princess-heir take back what she the most feared goddess around wanted. Zied was meant for her service not that half-breed godling bitch. She had wanted the ripe priest for her own and behind her back the royal bitch had taken him first. Yania, akin to the great Tagreth or not, was not going to keep Zied for long. It was one of the reasons she often came in between the sisters and used the unsuspecting slut Kaedeah for her own purposes. Tagreth would take back what was hers and do it in such a way that the pitiful princess would think twice to tackle a goddess. And Zied would come to her or loose what he wanted the most. There were ways around the natural order of things that often prevented a goddess’ interference.

As her lover’s fingers and tongue plunged in and out of her, she formulated a most cunning plan that would have her getting what she wanted, and giving those who infuriated her a taste of what it was like to play games with a goddess. As he opened up her pussy lips further, she took the dark head of the man above her and shoved his face deeper in to her cunt. Bucking and rubbing hard against his unshaven face, she ravished his features and pressed him to please her even more deeply.

By her own dark lust energies she had devised a plan. Oh yes, this servant’s twin tongues were thrusting nicely into her deep channels. She could feel her juices starting to flow over his face. She wound her legs around his head and jerked up against him harshly. Soon, she’d have others at her mercy and she would enjoy the games she’d play with their minds and bodies. It was so much more fun to play with mortal lives using games and such. Their reactions were an aphrodisiac to her bottomless soul. She lived for making others do her biddings, and complicating their lives.

She cried out and ordered her lover to fuck and suck her harder with his face and fingers. He gasped for air, but she ignored his needs. She rode him hard and tightened her hands in his hair. Oh yes, the plan was forming nicely and she was finally getting a good orgasm rising. She pulled him up by his shoulders with her supernatural strength, and he automatically thrust his engorged cock inside of her slippery folds. She bucked underneath him and screamed out with glee as the spasms of her climax and her plans sprung forth giving her a satisfying moment she had not felt in some time.

Her dressed up lover barely had finished his own orgasm when she threw him off of her. She got up and walked towards the ocean that her temple cavern looked out onto. She dove into the dark depths of the twilight colored waters, cooling her ardor and swimming towards the dark foreboding shore ahead to put her plans in action.

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