DarkFyre - Chapter Four - Part Two

Chapter Four - Part Two

The straw was scratchy where it was stuck in the thick, tussled locks of her black hair, tickling along the back of one of her sensitive pointed ears. It was cold, her breath a steaming cloud coming out in shaky, rushing puffs as she panted and let out ragged breaths The stables smelled exactly how a stable ought to smell, which was not at all pleasant, and she couldn’t care less.

Silmaria was on her back, her firm, shapely thighs spread wide and quivering as Jerol the stable hand roughly pounded his big cock into her sticky, dripping pussy. She writhed beneath him, grunting and gasping and moaning and doing her best not to scream lest someone hear them. It was a distant worry at best; She’d come down to the stables for a romp with Jerol enough times without being caught that she was pretty sure Nort the old StableMaster was either looking the other way, uninterested what his lads got up to, or deaf.

Either way, Silmaria didn’t care. She was entirely focused and preoccupied with the sensations of the fuck. Fully in the grasp of the Stirring, it felt as if every nerve in her body were hotwired to her cunt, every sensory receptor finely focused on the sensation of the less-than-gentle stable hand driving the thick length of his bulging cock in and out of her clinging, pulsing pussy. Her back arched and she bit her full lip hard to choke back another orgasm.

A burst of searing fire shot through her body, wracking her form with waves of hot licking flames of pleasure, throbbing and flaring in sweet release, each pulse building on the next. Her heavy, ripe breasts quivered and bounced, and Jerol used one work roughened hand to squeeze and grip her lush tits, pinching and pulling at her nipples. The twinges of pain from his rough fingers only served to spike her release even higher.

Silmaria collapsed back down to the straw strewn ground, and her hips continued to undulate and thrust with the man above her, desperately seeking more. Her pelt was slick with sweat, hers and his, and her cunt was dribbling out her nectar steady and thick and sticky, running down her thighs and the crack of her firm, bunching ass and covering the man’s plunging, thrusting cock, soaking the heavy length of it.

The small enclosed space smelled of stables and sex, the smell of her arousal strong and demanding. Silmaria looked up at Jerol, and he was focused solely on his own pleasure, pounding her welcoming slit frantically and roughly, his cock filling her and stretching her deliciously open around him as his hips crushed down into hers.

She watched his face and saw no affection or tenderness there, only desire and lust and crude, base satisfaction. It made her shiver with self-loathing and shame and arousal, and then she was cumming again, gods, again already, and she didn’t care, she just wanted more, more to fill this emptiness constantly gaping inside her…

His hand tangled in her hair, gripping and yanking at her scalp as he rutted into her hard and deep, his cock pounding its generous length into her clutching, flat belly. Silmaria let out a quiet hiss, the pain as always edging and complementing the pleasure so perfectly, accentuating it just so to give it an explosive quality that bled distinctly through the fog of her desperate hunger, lending clarity and delicious focus to how wickedly he used her.

He gave no word of warning or comment as he suddenly picked up speed, hammering into her for a few moments before his body went tense and rigid. A few quiet grunts, and he was cumming, spending himself inside her. Silmaria squirmed and moaned, grinding her cunt down onto the throbbing, jerking length of the stable lad as his thick Human seed spurted and splashed wet and warm in her feline belly. Silmaria clamped down tight on him, milking his cock for every drop, cooing as the warmth spread liquid and pleasant in her puffy, gripping tunnel.

All too soon, he pulled free, his fat cock popping wetly from her pink slit. Silmaria groaned in disappointed, left aching and open with the man’s cum running in a sticky, thick river from her gaping fuckhole.

“More,” she whimpered softly as she sat up. She felt pathetic and wretched, but the Stirring was still surging through her blood, and she was desperate, and she didn’t want to go find another man to sate herself with. She’d had those nights before, and she hated them.

“I have work in the morning,” Jerol complained. “Nort says we got’s to muck out all the stable and check the horses for worms. Says the stable’s fallen behind while we been helpin’ with the harvest. Don’t rightly see what stable folk like us got to do with harvests anyway. Don’t they got you lot in the house for all that mess?”

Silmaria didn’t bother explaining to him. Jerol was stupid. Not a simpleton, just stupid and dumb as dumb could be. Silmaria didn’t care; she figured all the blood that most people got to go to their brains must have been occupied pumping to his generously endowed cock, and she was quite okay with that

Instead of arguing with him, Silmaria simply slunk forward along the stable floor, ignoring the way the straw and dirt pressed into her palms and knees, until she was at Jerol’s feet. She then, without a single word, took the stupid stable hand’s half wilted cock and popped the sticky head into her mouth, slurping softly and slowly. She knew he would be sensitive, or she would have gorged herself on his prick right then and there. Instead she slowly, firmly ran her wet pink tongue along his flesh, licking him clean of their mingled fluids, the taste of his cum and her cunt strong and wicked and delicious.

By the time Jorel’s cock was back to full throbbing hardness, not so very long really, Silmaria’s head was bobbing up and down his bulging length, taking his flesh into her warm, tight throat. Jorel wasn’t thinking about his early morning anymore. The Gnari woman slurped and suckled for all she was worth, her tongue working enthusiastically along the heavy bottom of the man’s shaft. Her throat constricted, squeezing heavenly, and she gagged softly, even as she showed no hesitation and continued to take the man deeply down her talented, graceful throat. Jorel’s hands were soon in her hair, nearly gripping her cat-like ears, and his hips thrust to fuck Silmaria’s beautiful face, making her lips puffy as they stretched around his girth.

Almost reluctantly, Silmaria broke off, pulling back to gasp and pant for breath as she wiped the hanging rope of saliva that formed a bridge between her quivering lips and the man’s twitching dick. She was quite enjoying sucking that impressive prick, but she had other plans, other needs that needed tending.

In moments Silmaria was face down in the straw, her juicy, firm ass raised high and bouncing rapidly as Jerol plunged into her cunt from behind. She was crying out now, unable to silence herself as the stable hand stabbed and pounded and rutted into her drooling twat. Silmaria gripped handfuls of straw and grit her teeth as the man fucked her so hard and wantonly that it made her slit ache and throb with a heady mix of pleasure-pain, a perfect feeling that made her belly clench.

Her knees skinned on the dirt, and she thrust her ass back even harder, making that fat cock plug and stretch her even deeper and wider than before. Her breasts swayed under her, bouncing in a frantic rhythm, her stiff nipples occasionally grazing the rough ground. Her pussy, already filled with cum, spasmed in a wet squelch when Jerol’s dick drove forcefully back in. Every time he withdrew a wet, sloppy mix of their fluids would come dragging out, running messily down the serving girl’s supple thighs. Her ass slapped a wet, meaty staccato as it met his thrusting hips.

Jerol’s second release was the same as the first. His tensing, his slamming forward hard to burry into her desperately gripping pussy to the root. His cum spurted in heavy bursts in warm gushes of seed into her core, spattering wet and sticky against her already coated inner walls. Silmaria let out one final, shrieking orgasm at the feel of it spreading inside her.

She collapsed, spent and exhausted, the Stirring at last done with her. For now. All Silmaria wanted to do was lay there, still and motionless, and let her body recover from the aching heaviness that suddenly settled into her every muscle, leaving her sluggish and lethargic.

But Jerol was having none of that. He poked and prodded and pressured her to get herself together so he could get some sleep until, with a sigh, Silmaria grabbed her dress and shucked it on. She stood on shaky, tired legs and said nothing to the man as she stepped with far less grace than was her norm, and left the stables. What would be the point? He was crass and tactless, basically kicking her out after having his way with her, but it wasn’t unexpected. They both knew what their little meetings were about. There was no love, no affection, not really even friendship between them. It was sex for sex’s sake.

And that was entirely why she went to him to begin with. He, and a number of others, she chose because they didn’t try to complicate things with feelings or romance or unwanted closeness. She just needed to quell the incessant torment of the Stirrings, and as simply and cleanly as she could manage that, the better. It also helped that those she bedded didn’t gossip overmuch about their trysts. Which was probably more due to her being a Gnari than any surplus of gentlemanliness on their parts.

Which was not to say, of course, that there was no gossip at all. Whether they spread the word themselves or not, people talked.

The Gnari girl crept through the empty halls in the back of the Manor until she reached her room. She slipped inside and quietly stepped around the other serving women already sleeping on their cots. She found her cot and settled onto it. She grabbed her threadbare blanket and wrapped it around her slim shoulders. It did practically nothing to chase away the chill, but the night was surprisingly so it didn’t much matter and she wasn’t too miserable.

Well, not miserable over the cold, at least. But Silmaria was miserable, nonetheless. Now that the Stirring had fled and her cravings were sated, she found herself filled with a melancholy and longing. She was lonely. She missed Master Edwin always, but more fiercely than ever in these moments. Though she often was able to be indifferent and practical toward her sexual encounters, there were times when she missed the warmth of strong arms around her, the security of capable hands soothing away the sting and the bruise and the raw, overly sensitive nerve endings after a hard, thorough fucking.

That was one of the things she had loved most dearly about being with Master Edwin; he hadn’t been afraid to be rough and firm and demanding with her, to give her that edge of pain that forced her body and her mind, fuzzy and muddled with the Stirring into sharp, keen focus. But always he soothed away the hurt afterward, and he was always there, strong and steady and sure. He’d given her strength and brought her back, calm and peaceful, from so many jumbled and violently intense emotions and sensations.

Silmaria wrapped herself up in a small little ball, her tail curling around her feet. Tears slipped down her cheeks, soaking into the soft, short fur of her face.

She heard and felt a shifting at her back, and glanced over her shoulder to see one of the other women, creeping toward her in the dark. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed when she recognized the old woman’s face in the darkness.

“Sorry if I woke you, Lirena,” Silmaria said quietly.

The old Human woman smiled, deepening the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth. “You didn’t, little kitten. I don’t sleep very much anymore, you know. I just lay here, listening to you girls sleep while I let my mind go whatever places it will.”

“I wish mine would stop going places,” Silmaria sighed, and sat up with her knees pulled to her breasts to look at Lirena tiredly.

Lirena reached up with a wizen hand and plucked a bit of straw from Silmaria’s mussed curls. “If you wouldn’t let yourself go to these places while, your mind and your heart would be still when you slept.”

From any other woman, Silmaria would have been offended and hurt, and loudly told her where to take a walk to. From Lirena, Silmaria simply nodded absently. “I wish I could make it stop. I wish I didn’t have these feelings, these cravings. They torment me.”

“I know, child,” Lirena said gently, picking at yet more straw. Lirena was not Silmaria’s friend, not in the way that Cook was. But she was an old woman, and wise, and could be kind in her way. She wasn’t not exactly supportive of Silmaria’s activities, but she didn’t judge her too harshly either, and seemed to genuinely try to understand why she did them. Lirena had lived a long time, and seen and heard many things. She had more of an open and experienced mind than most. “It’s not an easy burden you bear. I wish this old mind had better answers for you.”

“I would do anything for answers,” Silmaria sighed, brushing her curls from her eyes. “But I’ve searched and searched. I don’t think I’m meant to be fixed.”

“There’s nothing to fix, kitten,” Lirena said, taking the young woman’s hand and patting it gently. “You are as you are. Misunderstood and strange to most of us, but that doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you. You’ve a good heart. That’s more than most have in these hard times.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Lirena. But I don’t think many here agree with you.”

“Many here wouldn’t recognize wisdom if they stepped in it,” Lirena replied with a wry smile.

Silmaria gave the hint of a smile despite herself. “Thank you, Lirena. Life would be easier if there were more people with your kindness.”

“That’s true. But then I wouldn’t be so special. And you’d listen to me much less.”

“I’m not very good at listening to begin with,” Silmaria said with a depreciative smirk.

“Oh, that’s not true. You listened to Master Edwin very well, as I recall.”

A bitter-sweet smile twisted Silmaria’s mouth. “I tried to. I miss him, Lirena. So very much.”

“We all do, child,” Lirena replied with a gentle smile, remembering. “He was a good man. And he would have told you to be careful. And to guard yourself.”

Silmaria shifted, feeling a spike of guilt, for he had given her just that advice so often. He would have been unhappy with her choices of late, not because he disdained her for them, but because he would have called them so dangerous and risky. “Yes, he would have said just that. I’ll be careful. I always am. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Silmaria.”

The Gnari girl rolled over to face the wall, pulling her blanket tight around her curving form. The old woman meant well enough, but she could never really understand. She was what she was. But how could that ever be good enough for her if it was never good enough for anyone else?

Continued in Chapter Five

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