Edit: Apparently a picture didn't load properly, so I've added it. Sorry I didn't notice earlier.
I'm sick with flu, and laid up in bed for the time being. Should be at least several more days before I'm on the mend, according to my doctor. No that new Chinese bat virus, just a late flu bug.
Since I'm not really able to stay upright very long, let alone in a mood for writing sexy things at the moment, I can't really finish anything for you. But I still want to post something, so here's a short fantasy story I wrote some months ago. Meant to give it a rewrite, expand it a bit, but better something than nothing.
See you when I feel better,
- B-Rex
Nara Axehands pushed the door to the inn open, growling under her
breath. The thrice-damned city guard at the gate had demanded half
her gold just to enter the city after dark, the greedy bastard.
She glanced around the inn, her nose
wrinkling at the smell of cheap, sour beer and unwashed bodies.
Still, at least the fire was warm, and hints of fresh food wafted
over the fouler smells.
"Welcome to the Puckered Rump,
stranger," called out the innkeeper. Nara shut the door, not
acknowledging the woman. "Perhaps you are wondering about the
name? Well, it's a long stor--"
"I don't care. Give me a mead, and
something warm, with meat in it."
The woman paused, frowned at being
interrupted, but finally shrugged. "Suit yourself, stranger.
We've fresh beef stew and the finest mead in all--"
"Whatever." Nara tossed a
gold coin at the woman, and headed to the benches around the large,
open fire pit.
She sat down carefully, the clinking of
her armor drawing glances. She slid off her boots, grimacing at the
blisters showing through her ruined footwrappings. She'd need to buy
some real socks before she left the city again.
The wet wraps were tossed to the flames
with a sigh, then she set about searching for a healer's potion in
her bags. Just when she despaired of finding one, she found a final
small bottle hiding away in the folds of the leather bag, and quickly
poured it over her feet.
"Ooooh," she moaned, as her
feet healed rapidly. The fumes of potion rose up with the hot air and
disappeared out the inn's chimney.
Nara waited a few minutes, until
everyone's attention had returned to their own affairs. Her fingers
closed on the buckles holding her chest piece in place. She really,
really didn't want to take it off, not here. But she was soaked from
the rain that had followed her down the mountain, and if she didn't
get the heavy, wet armor off soon, she'd be sicker than mere potions
could deal with. Already she was feeling a cold coming on.
"Nothin' for it," she hissed,
shivering as she pulled the leather straps through the buckle. Aside
from the fire, the inn was quite dark. "Maybe no one will
notice?"
The heavy chainmail and studded leather
slid free of her shoulders. She dropped the armor chest piece heavily
onto the bench beside her and sighed in relief, stretching her back.
Instantly, the loud, boisterous crowd
fell silent.
"Great Monzarkh! Look'et those!!"
Nara winced at the man's profane
outburst. Damnit!!
She looked down, her large, full
breasts pushing out, straining the thin undershirt. Her bosom had
always been on the large size, but normally her breasts only drew
stares when she went out of her way to draw attention to them.
Or, at least, they had, until recently.
"That damn mage," she hissed,
instinctively drawing her arms over her chest. But the effort had no
effect. Everyone in the room was already ogling her breasts.
She'd encountered the mage a few weeks
earlier, after clearing a mine of a small gang of bandits. It had
been easy enough work, none of the thieves and highwaymen were
skilled enough to challenge her axeplay, and she'd gotten a
surprising amount of gold and silver from the gang. They'd clearly
been quite successful, despite their lack of talent.
Only as the last thief fell to her
blade, did she learn why they had been so successful. Pulling her axe
from his split skull, she'd turned to leave the maze-like abandoned
mine, and nearly ran headlong into the gang's mage.
The man was young, no more than a
novice if even that, practically untrained.
And yet, the young man hadn't been
afraid, even despite her obvious prowess with the bloody axe in her
grip. In fact, he had been downright cocky, smirking knowingly at her
as he readied his first spell. She charged at him, axe raised for
another killing blow, as the man fired his spell... at himself!?
Three blowjobs, a titjob, and a solid
hour of anal later, and she knew why the bastard was so damn cocky.
Back in the inn, Nara Axehands stood
up, holding her hands out at the approaching crowd of half-drunk men.
"Okay boys, let's be reasonable--oohmphh!!"
She gasped as she stepped backwards,
forgetting the bench and toppling over in a heap.
The first of the men was on her before
she could scramble back to her feet, driving his hands into her
heaving bosom. "Fuck!! Not again!!!"
Another pair of hands was on her a
second later, followed by another and another, all squeezing and
groping at her breasts. She pushed against the horde, kicking one of
the men back. It proved a mistake, as the only result was a loud
tearing sound as the man's hands took her top with him.
Her now bare breasts bounced once,
before the men renewed their groping with even more vigor.
The mage had known exactly one spell.
She had been taken by surprise when, instead of firing his spell at
her, he shot the ball of blue light at himself. Or, more
specifically, at his groin. He pulled the straps holding his tattered
robes closed, just as she began to swing her axe.
The instant her eyes fell upon his
raging erection, the axe had dropped harmlessly from her hands....
"Get off me!!" Nara growled,
frantically pushing at the horde of drunks manhandling her bosom. But
her efforts were pointless. She caught the eye of the innkeeper.
"Help me, dammit!!"
"Slut, showing off her chest like
that! Getting what she deserves, you ask me," muttered the
innkeeper, wiping a mug clean and ignoring her.
"FUCK!!"
The mage's shockingly powerful charisma
charm had started to wear off after several hours of sex. He had just
started to ramp up his power for another blast, when she had finally
come back to her senses and shoved a dagger into the man's chest.
Taken by surprise, he had died almost
instantly, but in his last death throes, he had grabbed frantically
onto her breasts, releasing his entire magical charge in one blast.
She'd always known mages to be most
dangerous when they were dying, pumping a lifetime's worth of magical
potential into their final spell. Usually that meant a firecast that
could melt dragon scale or a frostblast that could shatter obsidian.
But she had never even heard of a
charisma charm pushed to it's maximum potency. Until now, she'd never
even thought what effect such a charm could have.
And now all that magical charisma power was
residing inside her breasts, the mage's last laugh in death.
