Dream a Little Dream Of - Chapter 1

Dream a Little Dream Of - Chapter 1

"You are a very naughty boy."

"Excuse me, teacher?"

"I saw you looking at me."

"No teacher, I wasn't."

"Then you weren't paying attention to me?"

"No, I mean yes I was... um."

"Well which is it? Were you looking at me or not?"

"Er... yes?"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes teacher, I was paying attention."

"To whom?"

"You, teacher."

"Oh yes? And what part of me were you paying attention to?"

"Teacher?"

"It's o.k, I'm a grown woman, I can handle the truth. But tell me the truth you must or I shall be forced to punish you."

"Teacher, I can't."

"Oh but you must! Now don't be shy, which part of me were you 'paying attention' to?"

"... your face."

"Now don't be coy. Lying is a sin."

"I'm not lying."

"So you're saying that out of all my lithe body parts, gripped by tight leather, accentuating every curve, baring my cleavage and my nipples bumping the fabric, you were looking at my face?"

"Yes."

"Liar!"

"I'm not!"

"Shut up, boy. Your lie shows in your face and your increasing firmness."

"T-teacher, please don't touch me there..."

"Oh, but your little soldier seems to be standing to attention! If you are so unwilling to tell the truth, perhaps we can squeeze it out of him?"

"Ugh, teacher, please don't."

"Think as this as part of your education. As your teacher surely it would be remiss of me not to go over your more primal urges with you."

"No this is wrong... this is..."

"Now let's see your little soldier then, I bet he's filthy! Your first lesson will be on how every little soldier needs a bit of spit and polish."

"Get off me, it's strange... it's not even..."

"Oh he's all messy and salty, this won't do at all."

"THIS ISN'T REAL!"

---

"Arrgh, fucking, fuck, fuck!" a petite pale blonde woman clutched her head in pain as she recoiled from the unconscious form of a young man.

A female orc was reclining in a chair opposite the pair, watching intently despite her seemingly relaxed posture, "Another failed attempt, witch?"

The woman did not respond at once, instead covering her face with one hand, eyes scrunched shut and unnaturally straight long hair shrouding her, while she felt around for a strong drink. Meeting with fumbled success, she parted her hair enough to take a long swig from a clay flask, then almost immediately stuck out her tongue and half choked, "This is fucking disgusting, it's bloody marvelous, what did you call it again, Ghoen?"

"Death wine from Vingal province."

The blonde snorted, "'Death wine', bloody marvelous."

Retaining her laid back position, the orc asked, "So are we to cut him loose, or try again?"

"Cut him loose? Abso-fucking-lutely not! If there's one thing I like, it's a challenge." The woman stood up and started pacing around the large windowless room, which was lit by flickering lantern-light.

The beast woman followed the smaller one through the room with her eyes as she made her way around the lavishly, but haphazardly decorated room. Deep colored velvet and silk hung from chairs and posts in no particular order making the pale woman seem like a ghost floating through a broken history of decadence.

Ghoen was seemingly unmoved by the impromptu visual poetry, "Last week you said you hated being challenged."

"That was last week, sweetie. Try to keep up," the witch replied absentmindedly, "No, this is far too interesting, a mere boy with no psychic training whatsoever is able to forcibly remove me from his mind, while unconscious, while drugged and while I'm trying to give him a mind blowing wet dream. It's unnatural!"

"Unnatural," the orc deadpanned.

The witch stopped pacing and looked the beast woman in the eye, "Irony is my friend, leave it alone."

"Right, well I'm getting hungry and tired; do you still need me here? Watching the two of you mumble and twitch isn't what I was expecting to be doing when you hired me as your bodyguard."

"'His' bodyguard, sweetie. How many times do I have to repeat that?"

The orc sighed deeply, "Yes, because dwarfs could pop out of the wall at any moment... I've set traps for a mile around, the only threat here is you might slip and poke your eye out on his erection."

"Ha-fucking-ha," the witch wafted over back to the unconscious boy, "no, one more try I think, one more."

"How long do you think it will take?"

A snarl passed over the girl's face making her seem much older, "I don't fucking know, bitch. You're messing up my thought process, if you're going to ask stupid fucking questions, ask stupid fucking questions about what I'm doing, it helps me focus."

The orc stood up to her full height and strode over to the witch, her muscles tight and tense, displaying her raw power to the girl who was at least two foot shorter than her.

The blonde, for her part, met the fire in the orc's eyes with a raised eyebrow and said, "You know, walking around like that just makes me want to fuck you a-"

She did not get to finish her sentence, however, as the beastling grabbed her by the throat and slammed her down onto the table next to the boy.

"I do like it rough," the witch smiled with a grimace.

The orc raised her enough to head-butt her back down against the table. Ghoen growled into the woman's face, "Shut. Up. You are not paying me enough to put up with your madness and abuse."

The witch grinned madly at her assaulter, "No shit?"

The beast woman let go of the girl in disgust, "You're insane."

The blonde's grin wavered, cracked, "I'm not... no. I'm sorry." Disheveled, the girl picked herself up, "I'm sorry, name your price, I'll double it, whatever. I'm sorry."

The orc clenched and unclenched her fists, breathing deeply to calm herself down, "You frustrate me, witch."

The woman gave a half chuckle, half sob, "That makes two of us. I've been told it is possible to get used to me, I wouldn't know. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," the orc repeated without sarcasm or ire.

"Yes, next time I rub you the wrong way, though, I'd suggest you kiss me instead of attack me, you still get my attention but make less mess. Well, different mess. I'm lucky I don't bruise, anyway."

The beast woman said nothing but returned to her chair and sat down awkwardly, partly ashamed for her outburst of violence.

"I wish you'd use my name by the way, sweetie," the blonde said as she straightened her hair, "Every time you say 'witch', it makes me want to wiggle my nose."

"Marenda..." the orc struggled with her convictions for a moment, "I apologize also, I should not strike an employer."

"Oh, dearie. Random violence is like punctuation for orcs. No harm done." the girl jumped lightly up and down on the spot shaking herself loose. "Now, where were we?"

"The boy."

"Yes, the boy," Marenda pursed her lips, "What do we know about boys?"

The orc sighed again, but otherwise was silent.

"Right, boys have penises, right?"

Ghoen remained silent.

"Right," continued the witch, "and boys like to stick their penises into other people," Marenda jumped up and straddled the unconscious boy and addressed him directly, "Then why the fuck are you resisting my dream temptresses all open and willing?"

The witch leaned down so that her face was level with his, "All I want is a little sperm, just to see if you're compatible. If you're not, you can bugger off back to your church and bash wooden boards against your head or whatever it is you like to do. Promise."

Marenda gave him a little sniff, "What do you need to loosen up, sweetie, hmm? I've tried the most beautiful girl in your memory throwing herself naked at your feet, I've tried the no strings exotic prostitute that you fantasized about for almost two years, I actually managed to get in your pants with the martial teacher just now."

"Do you think it's authority that's the key, Ghoeny?" the blonde called over to the orc.

Cringing at the pet use of her name, but refusing to rise to it, Ghoen responded with a non-committal, "Maybe."

The witch mulled, "His mother in a see-through night dress, spilling her heart about how lonely she's been without a husband."

The beast woman reached over for the Death Wine and took a long swig in an attempt to burn that particular image out of her mind.

"'Oh darling son, how I have longed for a man around the house. But now you are so big and grown up perhaps it is time for you to perform the conjugal duties with your poor mother,'" Marenda spoke with a unconvincing put-on voice.

"You're assuming the boy is secretly a pervert." the orc mumbled.

"He's a man of the cloth, there's an alarmingly high possibility that that's the case, darling," the witch stated before running a hand down her body and whispering into the boy's ear, "I have a burning itch that only a man can reach, won't you be a good boy and-"

"I think it's more likely that you're projecting."

Suddenly Marenda sat bolt upright, "Maybe he's gay!"

Ghoen's face fell to the table with a thump.

The blonde frowned, "No that doesn't fit at all," she slumped back down, laying her face on the boys and idly played with his hair, "Maybe I should just jerk you off and be done with it."

This idea cheered up the orc greatly and she eagerly agreed, "Maybe you should."

"No, the whole fucking point of this is to give back something in replacement for what I'm taking. A vivid fantasy that will stay with him for the rest of his life. To spread a bit of joyous erotic madness. I'm insulted you would even suggest a cheap fucking hand-job!"

Ghoen returned to pressing her face against a cold, hard surface.

Marenda stared into the middle-distance, "What to do?"

"A sweetheart?" the orc spoke into the table.

"What?"

"A childhood sweetheart. Did he have one?"

"I suppose it's worth a look-see. He's so closed off it's hard to think of him ever actually being friendly with someone. I'll be back shortly, be a dear and watch over us please," with that, Marenda looked into the slightly frowning face of the unsuspecting boy and gently bit him.

---

Marenda slipped into the boy's mind silently and unobtrusively, allowing her perfect lucidity to relax into his unconscious mind. What she was doing was a hard to conceive danger, to push her own mind into an already occupied brain and then to find the perfect balance of coexistence with the resident mind is inviting a fate potentially worse than death. The witch had already failed at syncing with what the boy found unconsciously acceptable with her previous seduction attempts and as a result had been forcibly removed by the boy's mind.

Having your mind's arse kicked out of another brain is the best of the worst case scenarios and is akin to the feeling you get when being betrayed or rejected by the most loved and trusted individual you happen to know; a sudden, intensely sharp jolt of emotional upheaval that can potentially leave you reeling for the rest of your life. Marenda had experienced this three times in the last several hours and, if not for the self-taught technique of rapidly rationalizing, empathizing and forgiving the guilty mind within a single heartbeat, would probably have torn off the boy's own cock and beaten him to death with it, which would have likely taken some time.

The worst of the worst case scenarios is for two minds intertwined to lose sense of their individuality and merge into one. Brains are not even remotely capable of handling this kind of overload and would go completely and utterly insane, or if lucky bleed out of its owner's ears. Schizophrenia this is really not. The small blonde witch had, ironically, a supernaturally lucid mind when present within the brain of another and thus had no fear of such a messy fate befalling her. Controlling the whims and flows of another mind, though was still not a task to be taken lightly.

The boy was dreaming his own dream, and from the feel of it, it was not a pleasant one. Marenda had every intention of rectifying that, but first had to delve into his memories to find the leverage she would need in order to bring the boy off with a wet dream. Previously she had only explored his more recent memories of the last year or so of women that had found purchase in his arousal and fantasy centers. There had been plenty to work with and the boy's rejection of his own erotic desires was frustrating, however, denial of one's own sexuality is often a one way track to a broken psyche, and Marenda was usually keen to indulge in her own desire to nurse broken people back to health.

And so the little woman delved deeper into the large boy's mind, purposely ambling through the shadowed market stalls of remembrances. Or something. She gave a cursory examination of how his parents had brought him up, only to find that they hadn't, he never knew his mother and his father had died when he was young. Marenda moved on, no incesty shenanigans after all. She continued searching through his childhood, finding increasingly garbled images and feelings, which the witch understood as self-blocked memories. The boy had obviously been very unhappy throughout most of his life. She had recognized a similar pattern of unwanted memories in his recent years and it suddenly became clear to the witch that he actually desired becoming an emotionless shell; he could not bear his own memories. Marenda felt a wave of empathy for the boy.

Then, hit by a wall of intense loathing for him, for a moment she could not stand to inhabit his mind for a second longer. The witch began to pull herself back to her own consciousness, but stopped. The hatred she had felt was the boy's own self-loathing directed inwardly, not towards her at all. Several ideas clicked neatly into place: when her erotic fantasies were rejected, he had not been fighting back at Marenda, he had been fighting the threat of his own happiness.

"Well darling," she thought to herself, "we can't have that now, can we?" The witch focused a portion of herself into an outward wall of neutrality and dove back into the muted corners of his mind.

To have become so broken and jaded, the boy must have lost someone dear to him, either that or a complete moron. Marenda banked on the former and began tracing the source of the boy's self-loathing back to its point of origin. She came across multiple flashes of the boy's kindly, but crippled father, losing him at a young age had hurt the boy, but not enough to break him, no, there was more. And there it was, or there she was. An unassuming, freckled redhead of all people who sat upright on her knees with her head bowed as if she had fallen asleep. She was dressed in a plain white blouse with frilled sleeves and shoulders which her hair fell over in a long neatly platted ponytail.

Marenda immediately recognized the girl as a construct of the boy's memories and ideals of the girl and not just a single specific memory that would disappear, mirage like, when approached. So approach her she did.

"Hello, are you able to talk?" the witch addressed the girl, "My name is Marenda, what's yours?"

The girl looked up and smiled, "Betha, pleased to meet you. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to help you and Austos." the witch spoke plainly to keep the unconscious boy's mind from meandering in its dreaming state.

Betha seemed overjoyed, "Really? I'm so glad. There are so many things that need helped."

"Austos has been very sad."

"Yes, he has, for a long time now. I want to help him, but he won't let me," tears filled the girl's eyes.

"Why not?"

"Because I died."

Unsurprised, Marenda risked the question, "How did you die?"

A dark cloud passed over them both and large shadowy figures emerged from the corner of the Marenda eyes, "Orcs raped and killed me."

"I'm sorry. But you're still here. In his mind at least."

Betha shouted, "Yes, but he won't see me!"

The witch risked a little more, "Why not?"

"Because!..." the girl faltered, "because..."

"He blames himself for your death."

"Yes."

"He needs your forgiveness."

Betha began to cry in earnest.

Marenda blocked out the sound and formulated a strategy: Get naked. Get even. Ok, maybe not that exactly.

She spoke to the sobbing maiden, "In order to get what I need, I need to give Austos what he needs. And to do that, I need you. Lots of needing and probably some kneading."

There were deep rumblings of protest from the core of Austos's consciousness, however his own idealization of Betha fought past it. Austos unconsciously knew Betha would want to help him even if he was unwilling to accept it, his mind fighting itself.

"What do you need me to do?" the red headed ghost asked.

"Give me your form."

---

Marenda found Austos's self, his centre of consciousness, in a vicious, self-gratify struggle with a dark hyperreal orc. It's skin appeared made of shadow and its eyes glowed red. Austos wore dirty grey clothes over his bruised body. He grappled with the orc as it loomed over and around him, growling and spitting at the smaller boy. Austos's fists pattered uselessly off the orc's body as he found it impossible to throw any momentum behind his strikes. The orc's blows in return, sent the boy reeling.

The witch understood the scene for what it was; a never ending struggle for Austos as a means to punish himself. She remained outside of the boy's perception and created a sword lying next to the warring figures. Austos saw the weapon and lunged for it, but missed; the hilt was just beyond his reach... or was it? The sword was in his grasp! The boy rolled back and away from the shadow orc and into a fighting crouch. The orc lunged and Austos swung.

Recognizing the moment of truth, Marenda focused her will into the sword and overpowered the dream's designed hopelessness. The sword cut through the shadow orc's outstretched hand which would have otherwise caught and snapped the blade and then dug deep into the monster's body. The orc staggered then roared as ichor spewed from its cleaved chest. With a mental nudge the witch encouraged Austos to attack again, cutting into a shoulder, and again, caving in its skull, and again, and again, and again.

Austos leaned heavily against the sword, his breath coming in heavy rasps, as he surveyed the desiccated remains of his adversary. Marenda smiled, confident that the boy would be no longer plagued by at least that particular nightmare again. Now, after that good deed: time for a more morally ambiguous one.

Marenda appeared within his dream perception and gave a weak cough to draw attention to herself.

The boy wheeled round drunkenly, then fell to his knees in shock at what he saw.

Marenda planned to play this fantasy perfectly. She had shrouded herself in Austos's memories of Betha, selecting his most vivid recollections whilst subtly altering some points. The pair had always been too shy about sex and so they had never seized the chance to make love and any kissing had been stilted and short-lived. If the witch was going to keep Austos accepting of the illusion she would have to be true to Betha and to keep the boy on the back-foot to stop him from over-thinking and thus rejecting his desires. Wearing the form of Betha, she said, "You saved me."

Austos stared, struggling to conceive. Here was the only person he had ever truly loved. The girl who had made him feel complete, who had been his beacon of hope in a cruel existence, the girl who had been raped to death.

"You're not dead?" the boy breathed.

Marenda/Betha smiled lamely, "I guess not."

Then the fact that the girl was completely naked sunk in. Austos snapped his head away, but not before he had had a moment to gape at her beauty. Her skin was pale with a high tendency to flush pink. She was a natural red head with red thatch to match and a large amount of light and dark freckles scattered generously over most of her body. The truth was, was that Betha had been malnourished and as such was unhealthily thin. Marenda took exception to this and had brought her to a more healthy weight, making sure to give Betha's hips and bust special attention. Her young breasts were capped with large light pink nipples that stood up to draw attention to themselves.

"Uh...," Austos gulped, "sorry." He kept Betha's feet and ankles at the side of his vision, unwilling to let her completely out of his sight.

Marenda upped her game and angry welts and bruises appeared on Betha's body. It worked: the boy saw the injuries and looked up at the girl in anguish, "You're hurt!"

Betha curled up to cover her body, "It's nothing." As hoped, this gesture of modesty was all Austos needed to rush up to her; still he fell short of actually touching her.

"What happened?" he demanded, "Was it the orcs?"

"It doesn't matter now," Betha looked up at him through black-eyes and spoke through bloody lips, "It's over."

Rage surged through Austos and he stood up, "I'll kill whoever did this to you!"

She pointed over at the orc's remains, "You already did," and repeated, "It's over."

"It's over..." he was reluctant to say.

"Yes, please just come to me."

Austos looked down at her and hesitation flashed again in his eyes.

"Please," Betha pleaded, "I just need you to touch me," and the sucker punch-line, "I need to know that you're real." Reverse psychology for the win.

Marenda/Betha raised a hand, dark with bruises to the boy and he knelt down and gently took it.

She intertwined her fingers with his, clasped their hands tightly together, closed her eyes and let out a soft sensual gasp.

Austos flinched away, "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?!"

"No, see," she held up her hand which had become clean and injury free, "you healed me."

"...How?"

"Does it matter?" she reached for him again, "please. Don't stop."

Unable to resist, Austos went to her, but keeping at arms' distance, and offered his hand to hers. Marenda was quietly confident she had him for the moment at least. She felt tremendous surges of relief from Austos that had utterly demolished his barriers of self-pity and loathing. Apparently what Betha had told the witch was true; the boy had buried his memories of his young friend and flame deeply and had managed to create a wall that prevented his mind from managing the grief and to start a self-healing process. All it had needed was an outside source to push the matter though and all the self-destructive work was undone.

Marenda allowed herself a moment to bath in the warm glow of her good deed. Moment over. Now to rape the boy.

She grabbed his wrist tightly and pulled him gradually closer to her. Guiding his palm and fingers, she drew them up and along one arm, then the other. The deep purple-black bruises faded away leaving behind fresh and unblemished flesh behind and with each inch of skin Austos touched. Betha softly groaned as pain became pleasure and aches became soothed. Marenda drew his hand down along the side of her chest and midriff and with a deep throaty sigh fell forward into the boy, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder.

Austos tensed at the contact, her cheek felt so warm against his skin, "You're here," he stated.

Betha looked shyly up at him, "I knew you'd find me." she rested his hand at the top of her thigh, "It still hurts. Please, finish me off. It's so intense, I need to hold you."

"Is this allowed?"

"I've saved myself for you," Marenda went along with the abstract dream speech.

"Why?"

"You needed me. Touch me, Austos," Betha wrapped her arms around his neck, "Touch me."

Marenda felt the boy struggle weakly against his rising arousal, still fighting against the threat of enjoying himself. But, the defiance was half-hearted at best, within his mind he knew that if he fought he might break the spell, thus maybe never see her again and that was a consequence he could not bear to face. And so, he touched her.

With his hands running up and down the ginger girl's legs, she jolted and twitched, her breath coming raggedly against his ear.

"You're my angel," she rasped between sharp intakes of breath, "you defeated your enemies," she kissed him inaccurately on the cheek, "you rescued the pure maiden," she pressed her breasts against his chest and threw back her head, "and you're... oh... healing me."

Austos was absorbed in her, Betha and causing her pleasure was all the world to him at this moment. The dream was glorious; heaving bare flesh, heavy gasps and sighs, pungent sweat and sex, lustful heat. Whatever knowledge Austos lacked from absence of experience, Marenda poured the details into his thoughts and senses. All thoughts of reticence faded as the witch over... over... oh fuck...

Tied into Austos through his construct of Betha, Marenda was so focused within the boys mind that her physical body outside of Austos had become overwhelmed with the feedback loop of her own sexual projections. Marenda felt her body reach orgasm outside of Austos and felt suddenly yanked backwards into her own mind as her focus slipped.

'Shit,' the witch thought as each pulse of her body's pleasure caused her will within Austos to blur and fade. Still she clung on, making sure that her dream-self clung just as fiercely to him. She pressed the boy's face to her breasts as she shuddered against him, which ultimately saved her from discovery as the visage of Betha failed.

Marenda willed herself to hold it together and managed, though just barely. This was not the first time she had embedded herself too deeply within someone else's mind and probably would not be the last, and she would be damned if she fucked this up like a rank amateur.

"Thank you," she twitched her aftershocks against the boy. All part of the plan. Honest!

Austos, for his part, looked utterly mortified, confused, but still dazedly turned on. Marenda took the moment to regain her authority over his dream and affect a few changes. Firstly; more nudity. Austos' clothes vanished. Secondly, change of scenery. A ramshackle barn where Betha and Austos had first kissed. And thirdly, secure her own shit. The boy's pleasure first this time.

"We're naked," she told him.

"Yes..."

"What do naked people do?"

"Hide?"

Betha laughed and it was the prettiest sound Austos had ever heard.

He laughed along, nervously and politely.

"Do you remember where this is?" Betha asked coyly.

"This is where..." he began.

"We used to..." Betha smiled.

"Hide." Austos laughed again, more comfortably this time.

"Do you remember what else we used to do here?"

Marenda felt the boy's entire mind and body shudder in ecstatic remembrance. She gave the memories an once-over to find that all they had been up to was kissing and a little light fondling.

"Well?" Betha breathed parting her lips.

"I... we..." he licked his suddenly dry lips.

"Just kiss me, Austos."

The pair came together in a release of years of loss and yearning. Austos's resolve to forever punish himself was cut in half by Betha's tongue pushing itself into his mouth. He made a low keening noise, an unearthly mixture of joy and grief as he kissed back hard, his arms enfolding the girl and crushing her tightly against him. He sucked at her tongue, marveling at the warmth and softness of her kiss as he roughly embraced her. His blood roared in his ears.

Marenda let the fantasy flow, reveling in the sensations she was causing Austos and thus herself. Her will was hazy from the pleasure, but she had more than enough focus to maintain the dream now that the boy wasn't fighting it anymore. She took a moment to admire his tightly built body as it sweatily rubbed against Betha's. His broad hairless chest with dark puckered nipples spoke of innocence ripe for the taking. His musculature told of years of rigorous martial training despite his youth, they were muscles honed to strike rapid blows. Currently in his hands was Betha's young flesh, a weapon that struck directly at his own heart.

"Never let me go," Marenda whispered in his ear as she clung to his thick abdomen.

"Never", he promised, grasping at her curves even more fervently.

Marenda let the boy becoming a man get lost in her skin as she explored his. She ran Betha's hands down his back which at first tensed, then loosened as she rubbed the tautness out. Marenda inwardly raised an eyebrow at how the boy was able to tense his muscles this tightly in what was technically an astral body. The boy's sheer vitality stoked fires within Marenda that she felt were better left alone, for the time being at least. As it was, she enjoyed being outside of her own brain. Using her host's sanity as a crutch, it was one of the few occasions where she could experience unforced lucidity.

She observed as Austos gave in to his primal lusts, his thoughts spiraling into the all-consuming black hole of sexual desire. It was time. Betha lay back and opened herself to him.

"Take me, Austos," Betha's hands pulled at his hips urgently, "I've waited so long for this."

"I won't hurt you?" he asked uncertainly.

One more barrier to breach, so to speak. "No, I need this," she pulled him closer, "I need you." Come on cliches, don't fail me now.

Betha continued pulling him down until the head of his cock met her soaked vulva. This being a dream, there was no need to aim; the pieces were there to fit. Austos's eyes flew open in surprise at the sensation.

"See?" Betha smiled lifting her hips to push against him.

The boy eased his penis into its new haven millimeter by millimeter, left breathless by the new kind of warmth that spread through him. He looked down to marvel at their physical joining, the root of his manhood lodged firmly in the depths of the girl he loved, her nether lips wrapped snugly around him. It was intense, euphoric and humbling.

Marenda felt what the boy was experiencing and allowed herself another inward smile, Austos was savoring his experience and furthermore, appreciating it. He wasn't some mindless stud after quick and easy conquests; he was a natural love-maker. Betha smiled up at him as she held him in thrall, embedded in her and arched her back to show off her body particularly her aroused breasts. Austos groaned and bent to take one in his mouth, she squealed happily in encouragement.

Betha ran her nails down his back, tickling him and causing him to thrust forward in shock. The deeper penetration made them both gasp.

"Do that again," the girl breathed heavily.

Austos nodded and withdrew his cock almost reluctantly before, much more eagerly, pushing back inside her slightly more roughly than he had intended.

Betha grunted, "Again," he complied, she repeated, "Again!"

Marenda let him set a ragged pace which Betha spurred on with happy cries and sighs. Were this reality Austos would have reached orgasm by now, but the witch held it off in the fantasy. In the physical world she felt her body reacting again to the feedback stimuli, but ignored herself, letting her mind separate further from her body.

She reached around to grasp his firm buttocks and again dig her nails in to encourage harder efforts. Austos jumped and thrust harder still, bowing his head against her shoulder, tasting her sweat.

"Yes, Austos! You're making me cum!"

The boy wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but it sounded like it was a good thing. Indeed, she pulled him into her as deep as he would go and he felt the head of his cock nudge against the depths inside her.

Then she came and he felt the hot wet walls of her squeeze his solid member possessively. The feeling of her warmth gripping spasmodically at his totem of masculinity was too much for him to bear and he released, pouring himself into her depths. His entire body felt to be throbbing along with the deep spurts of his cock and he felt himself floating out of his body.

Below him he saw himself and Betha holding onto each other tightly, running their hands over each other reverently and shuddering with each post-orgasmic touch. Beneath them however, almost within Betha was another girl though. A small blonde thing he didn't recognize, who seemed to be puppeteering them both without strings. He stared down at her naked form as she writhed with the actions she was performing. She seemed young and delicate with ghostly pale skin, but something about her niggled his sense as a warrior and he knew not to underestimate her physically.

Then he caught her eyes, eyes that seemed to smoke and glow faintly. She stared back at him and the two love makers suddenly dropped limply away from each other and dissolved into nothingness. Austos tried to speak, but felt pinned in every way by her gaze. She seemed to be looking past him into the furthest reaches of he didn't know where.

"Interesting," she said, then he too faded away.

Continued in Chapter 2

---