Far from the Empyreans
Shall two souls find a satisfying end far from the Lands Between?
Far from the Empyreans
Shall two souls find a satisfying end far from the Lands Between?
Blaidd howled at the moon. Rather, to the stone ceiling above him. Nevertheless, he howled like he’d done many times before and would many times after.
He cried his love and desires, speaking it in ways only those who’d been tied to the two-fingers like him could understand.
Any shadowbound Beast, if any remained like him, would understand what declaration he offered to the moon and the stars.
It was a proclamation of love, of needs, of yearnings. And then, with the staccato that broke the howl, of the orgasm stealing shudders from the Half-Wolf. Nevertheless, as the sound broke down. His smile remained. And his hips pushed back against, unstoppable.
“It is not the way you honor our Elden Lord,” commented another voice, stiff but far from cold.
“That was not for naught. He does hear us at our merriment together. And I take satisfaction that he takes satisfaction from it.”
“He is but mere stairs away from us. What do you think is necessary for us to communicate? Your voice ports far enough.”
“Nay. There is honor in this way. Even if you shall voice your doubts on that day.”
There was a huff. Then, a thrust.
Within that instant, Blaidd froze and narrowly dropped. But still, he endured, even though he nestled his muzzle in his arms and hid his expression of complete and terrible submission under a stoic smile.
“This was a low-blow… From you.”
“It is not. I am but earning my reward,” answered the second voice… And with it came another thrust. And another howl.
But such a situation was not the beginning.
It was merely the moment Blaidd pondered when and how it all shifted. And it did… Very early on. On the day he met the friend who would upheave the entirety of the Lands Between.
But the change, the moment when Blaidd was released from his previous bondage and given freedom in a new and unexpected form, happened later.
_At that moment, the Erdtree burnt. It formed the center of an inferno that devoured everything in the Lands Between. It was a fire, magnificent, reaching the skies and beyond. At its feet had been devoured Leyndell. The city's remnants couldn’t be seen from a distance. But Blaidd certainly had an inkling of the chaos that was there as much as the despair he’d seen from the distant ships that were, too, swaying from the tides.
However, as his eyes were captivated by the chaotic sight spreading on the land, taking in the forest, mountains, and dwellings in between, Blaidd felt a hand reach for his. Holding it, pressing on it.
“It is done. You are free.”_
_Yes. They were.
The Tarnished from his duty. Blaidd from the weight of the two fingers on his thought. And another shape, riddled with horns sprouting from his body like thousands of blades and piercing the ashen hide back. Mohg.
The ever-masked Tarnished stood in the middle, somehow a bridge between the two, as the ship continued to navigate away from the hellish fire, sending them further into the night.
“You certainly followed on your promises, oh, Tarnished. Though I certainly wished another dynasty could have birthed from this crucible.”
“Impossible,” declared the Tarnished, his voice stoic and slightly reshaped by the gladiator helmet he wore. “Should you have established a dynasty here, someone else would have yearned for the rune and brought you down. Or worse.”
“Worse.”_
_There was no denial; there was worse than death in the Lands Between. Death was merely the passing. But there was something far more insidious, like losing oneself. Or to become a mere vessel for someone else’s desires.
So… It was without surprise that Blaidd heard the claws digging within the wood and a hissing breath coming from Mohg.
“I thank you, still, Tarnished, for saving me. But where are we going?”
“Somewhere far.”_
Yet, far had turned out to be real.
More than that, the Tarnished held on to his promises towards Mohg and Blaidd. Though in return, they were to return the favor in a whole different way. As the two were naked in the royal chambers, it was solely for them to joust.
But though they were pierced by a fierce “spear” on either hand, soft but rigid enough to tease their insides, none were willing to relinquish their grip on either hand. They gripped the tip that pleased and teased them as much as they pulled and pushed with their thighs.
Forward and Blaidd would try to yank the end out of Mohg’s control, forcing the Omen to wrestle the power back. Backward, and it was to have that far and wide end nudging the Omen’s internal walls to make him grunt and growl.
But the Omen, in return, was not one to be powerless.
He’d driven Blaidd to an orgasm, to an ejaculation. He was about to do the same, once more, as he proved to have stamina and strength that put the skills of many in question. Even Blaidd could barely compete, as the Omen again used the other end to steal control from Blaidd… And to hammer the Half-Wolf’s soft spot with a brutality driven by need and zeal.
“I… Shall have him for me,” said Mohg, unafraid to speak his mind.
“We are consorts.”
“But we are… Wrestling our favors.”
Yes. They were wrestling in a way that was as decadent as the depravity of many cursed lords in the Lands Between. But it was one of the few duels allowed between the two. Wielding blades and magic was forbidden between the new Elden Lord’s consorts.
And so… So… Blaidd was feeling his legs weakening and his legs hastening as, again, he spilled his seed on the floor. It had been thrice tonight. He was spent. He was gone.
“You… You won,” moaned Blaidd, his broken muzzle pressing on the floor as the semen kept coating the floor and coating the Half-Wolf’s fur. Finally, he rested in a puddle of his own making.
A satisfied huff followed, and then the sound of an orifice relinquishing its grip. Blaidd sensed the weight in his ass shift… And so, with his asshole’s grip weakening, the end of the dildo slipped out of Blaidd’s asshole with a wet suction sound coming from all the lube oozing from his asshole.
Or maybe it was Mohg’s too, as the Omen strutted around like he owned the place, which they did. All three: Blaidd, Mohg, and the Tarnished. Elden Lord. Consorts.
“You fought well, this time,” commented Mohg as his ashen feet landed in front of Blaidd’s eyes and a hand was offered: ashen, covered with scales, clawed, much like a monster. But one Blaidd accepted as he was lifted… And faced the Omen, his ears low. “Too bad, well is not enough… Cuck.”
“You jest.”
Yes, Mohg jested as he mocked and breathed against Blaidd’s ears, on the wild mane sprouting from Blaidd’s scalp, on the scar-riddled face, on the broken muzzle, on the fractured arches sporting the scornful eyebrows.
“I jest. But the truth lay bare,” continued the Omen, certainly far bigger and taller than Blaidd.
Mohg usually had a hunchback, but not in that situation, as he had his chest puffed up.
A chest like, in the likeness of those arms and hands, was covered in scales that seemed to merge with the ashen skin. But the higher you went, the more horns seemed to pierce through the hide until it culminated with Mohg’s head… A tangle of horns with one piercing through one eye.
That eye had long been removed, and the wound closed. But that horn remained a threatening presence as much as the Omen’s lack of lips and serrated teeth.
To a bystander, the Omen looked as much like a fiend as a fiend could be. Yet, he acted with a noble composure on many occasions. And the Tarnished seemed fond of Mohg’s presence, in soul, in mind, in body.
Blaidd? Well, maybe he belonged to the strange mismatch of individuals. Half-Wolf, former Shadowbound Beast. He was as free as he bore the marks of his previous bondage. Scars and wounds and badly mended bones. But was it enough to deter their Lord, Tarnished?
Not even, not as thus, Tarnished was keen on collecting other individuals whose lives bore the same brands.
“Are you weighing my words?” commented Mohg, amused as his sole eyebrow arched.
“No. I am… I was lost in consideration. Let’s see him,” commented Blaidd, nodding in a demure manner and letting his eyes drift down.
Down as they were to meet with the Lord… Without even a change to their attire. Clothes and undergarments were but accessories within the Tarnished’s domain. Shame struck Blaidd at first, afraid he’d been derided and mocked. But it was not.
In comparison, Mohg had acted with a defiant bravado in the first days, but seemed far more eased as they passed by another set of doors and were gazed upon by the servants.
“Consideration? Are you mulling over what you might or might not have done? You fought well, Blaidd. But it is something you cannot outdo,” said Mohg, presenting that jesting attitude.
“I-“
No. Blaidd closed his mouth, nodding to another set of servants already carrying lavender-scenting sheets to replace those of the Olive suite. And another with a bucket of water and a brush to clean the floor.
“You?”
“Nothing. It is more about our situation,” commented Blaidd as his eyes drifted down.
Down again on their bits and genitals as they advanced as one. And if Blaidd had been bested through the duel, Nature had found it fruitful to give Mohg another “weapon” over him.
Blaidd was content with his testicles, firm, and round, in a furry pouch beneath a rather discreet sheath that was, practically, containing a 4-inch shaft, or more. They’d measured.
The Omen? Beyond his sizeable nature, his genitals were just as impressive, and even one single testicle dwarfed Blaidd’s entire scrotum. No, more than that, that freely hanging, uncut penis was double Blaidd’s length and wise, yet unengorged.
Then, as Blaidd’s eyes noted a throb going through the mast, a clawed hand landed on Blaidd’s shoulder.
“A situation that is entirely fitting of our roles for our Tarnished Lord.”
Speaking of the Wolf, and not the Half-Wolf, they finally entered the Lord’s room. A roundtable upon which vassals sat, discoursing of their issues and begging for the Lord’s attention.
Today, half the chairs were empty. And those that were in use had their vellums prepared, full of recriminations and requests they must have read already. Maybe it was the same for that Pinionfolk whose armor was still pristine and his side-eyes as shiny.
Those people were armored, ready, and prepared. And yet, here strolled Blaidd and Mohg, naked and exposed. One sniffed. One snarled. But none dared to speak up against the Tarnished’s consorts as the two approached, and Mohg landed one hand on a covered shoulder.
“I won again,” whispered the Omen, then sat by the Tarnished’s right, while Blaidd sat on the left, listening while another Lord, a haughty numen with gaunt cheeks, perorated about the mines that needed more men.
The Tarnished? He listened, the hands joined, but his body spoke a different language than attention, with his legs bouncing and his breathing sharp.
“Thus. We might need twenty new hands for that project only. If the Lord may, we will-“
“Granted,” said the Tarnished, raising his hand. “I will dispatch them personally.”
The Numen’s composure crumbled a bit as he grabbed another velum, huffing and puffing. Maybe he had been stripped of his opportunities to expose his arguments.
“Well. Then, for the gold revenues. As desired, I did the estimation, and we shall be around sixty stones. We have found a rather profuse seam. But…”
“But?”
“I might have doubts about whether we should use that gold as soon as possible to create new coins. The market has been stable despite the lack of currencies. If we suddenly create more, I am afraid the prices will suffer from inflation. It was wise to think about using other metals. But it would be wiser to keep the Gold in our reserves so to exercise control over the bordering lands.”
“Hmm… Accurate.”
“Then, I can-“
“We will keep said gold here. I already have a few ideas on a storage solution for this. Let’s not say a Lord doesn’t listen to his vassals,” said the Tarnished, unjoining his hands. “You have been very helpful, Sir Recht.”
A few more seconds and the Numen nodded, but his face was redder than usual, and his fingers were scribbling on the vellum.
“What about you?” asked the Tarnished, turning to the representative of the pirate sailing between the remnants of the Lands Between and the Lord’s new domain. That man wasn’t the smartest or the most delicate, but he was quick-witted despite the brutish outlook.
“Nay. You already heard my concern,” raised the pirate, head low to hide his face. His reaction was closer to: “We already committed to our arrangement in private”.
Then it was the turn of the refugees, who owned a chair in the room. The Pinionfolk. The Albinaurics. The Seafarers. Even a few of those who live in Death. The latter had a repulsive scent but were helpful and eager to assist, as long as they were granted their domains, for those who managed to maintain their sanity.
Such a mismatch, and yet, naked and exposed, Blaidd felt like he was among the ones standing out the most. But his leg was stroked, and his expression relaxed, as well as his breathing.
“Anything? Nothing? Good,” said the Tarnished Lord, gripping his trusty blade at his belt while he stood up. And bowed.
Everyone else, save for Mohg and Blaidd, stood up and bowed.
“The next reunion would be in a fortnight. Take care,” said the Lord as he remained stoic and watched everyone go. A side glance here and there, but nothing threatening as the last, the Pinionfolk, pushed the door to.
And… The Lord sighed.
“This place will kill me.”
“You are rather adequate for the role. You nary divulged the accords with the Albinaurics. But you stood firm in the exchanges. I dare hope you did no such thing as taking their councils and following their requests."
"I was waiting for Blaidd’s third howl before starting the hostilities,” commented the Tarnished, leading to Blaidd’s dropping ears. “I kept them entertained with food and wine. And comments on the current assaults at our door.”
Blaidd’s ears continued to drop as he felt the snide remark. Certainly, the Lord wasn’t counting on his failing to ensure his political standings?
Yet, a gloved hand landed on Blaidd’s scalp and mane, stroking both.
“Good. Your court is still nascent, and through your actions, you are steering the course of the Kingdom on a path that suits you. They will grow used to your attitudes, unaware they serve a purpose,” commented Mohg, almost… Joyful. Or grinning, if there was a way to define such a grin on an Omen’s face.
One as disfigured as Mohg.
Nevertheless, naked and unafraid, Mohg leaned forth until the teeth clinked against the Lord’s everlasting helmet. Nobody had seen his face, not even the two. To them, to anyone, the Lord remained an enigma.
But neither Mohg nor Blaidd intended to resolve it. Only to help him… And as such, it was by grabbing the straps and buckles, keeping their Lord’s armor still and firm around that powerful body.
“So wise of you to admit your errors,” commented the Lord, still stroking Blaidd’s scalp and even behind his ears. Such a boon. The Half-Wolf’s right foot stomped on the stone floor.
“Jest. Jest. But I have lived through my share of failures. And my birth and existence taught me humility before arrogance,” said Mohg, removing one pauldron he set aside. Before going for the second. “I know when my role stops and where I can push further ahead.”
The second pauldron dropped, and a more forceful grip led Blaidd to bow. Then to have his face pressed between the Lord’s legs. Even his armor’s bulge was more impressive than what Blaidd had. And it was a codpiece the Lord often commented was too “tight” for him.
Nevertheless, and with his shame poking through the sheath, Blaidd began to untie the straps keeping the legwear covering the entire legs, but not without exploring those trunk-like thighs.
The Half-Wolf’s breath was quick and hasty, smelling the stench of excitation as much as frustration coming from the Elden Lord. A scent that compounded with the sweat, with the steel, with the burnt incenses. It was scent the Half-Wolf took in with lowered legs, while pulling the boots down. And his ears dropped as he heard the sultry sound of lips opening and a tongue coming in to ravish the skin. Not a proper kiss but a caress.
A touch, Blaidd heard and peered at, looking up, to see the Lord’s tensing his neck, exposing the fair skin from the neck while Mohg licked it… And had his clawed hands going over the gambeson, threatening the padded fabric while the Lord’s free hand went, danced, and explored along Mohg’s thigh before grabbing something of matter: hard, stiff, needy, and certainly drippy.
“Well. You won. Was it difficult?”
“Nay. The whimpy Blaidd cannot fight because the fault lies in his desire to submit. No fault of his, certainly.”
“Certainly,” added the Lord, stroking Blaidd’s mane and guiding the Half-Wolf’s muzzle closer. The stench was stronger the further Blaidd went, but it was more enthralling for his attentive and delicate nose.
“And so… What should it be? To have your way with him? Or to have him service the guards while keeping me all for yourself?”
The former happened at least a few weeks ago. And the guards had been on Blaidd’s back last week. It was obvious Mohg wouldn’t repeat those same offenses, though Blaidd had certainly been… Pleased to find himself coated with fluids and servicing many men at once.
“Mayhaps. But I think our Half-Wolf has been a… Good boy.”
The praise wasn’t lost, and Blaidd’s ears straightened, then dropped out of shame. He could be coerced so easily, similar to when, by removing the codpiece, Blaidd faced the Lord’s pungent and damp fabric. The underwear was closer to a loincloth, covered with fur. So, that fur had been soaking the Lord’s fluids all the while, and the scent would have made anyone faint.
Blaidd? He almost felt the phantom pain of a wagging tail as he had his nostrils pressed against the fabric and inhaled the musky aroma coming right from the fabric. As well as sensing the heat emanating from it, the throb… And the slow tremor of excitation.
“May-“ started Blaidd, but a clawed hand landed on his scalp, joining the Lord’s, and enjoined him to keep his nose pressed against the fabric.
“Enjoy this reward, Blaidd,” commended Mohg.
“It is brutal, Mohg.”
“But he likes it.”
If Blaidd couldn’t wag his tail, he compensated by shaking his posterior and feeling the intense joy from inhaling his Lord’s perfume. More, to have that throbbing mast right by his lips. It desired his attention. It wanted Blaidd to worship it.
And then, without an ounce of regret, Blaidd opened wide and gave a fortuitous lick. Fortuitous for Blaidd as his tongue found the palatable mix of precum and sweat wondrous to his papillae. A luscious flavor he never tired of. Not even as he gave it another lick. And another… And another.
His mind was enraptured by the yearning to please his Lord, and Mohg’s hand enjoined him to delve more within that frivolous, nonetheless addictive, sensation.
One lick. Two… Three. Blaidd’s mind had already drifted to the highs and lows of the Lord’s scent. He had been enthralled the moment they shared a bath in the depths of a shadowy forest, by a hot source.
Forevermore would the Lord’s scent be tied to the sensation of fullness and joy he’d experienced when the Lord fucked him for the first time. But this time, he wouldn’t be fucked.
Blaidd lost. Hence, he had to submit to whatever Mohg desired tonight. And the Omen wouldn’t allow him such exquisite tenderness lest Blaidd follow the orders.
Even the implicit orders, such as the peeled off underwear and the Lord’s shaft being offered to Blaidd.
Uncut, ending with a mushroom shape with a distinct corona. A frenum almost discreet. And a long mast covered with veins bulging and throbbing with each of the Lord’s heartbeat.
Followed then the graying bushes of pubes, covering the lower belly and the Lord’s leathery testicles.
And so was Blaidd’s reward for being a good boy: A shaft he took in mouth, swallowing the scent that made his heart flutter until his nostrils were brushing the pubes… And each inhalation marred his sense of smell. Each inhalation was another delve for Blaidd’s mind, another deep dive into the abyss of desires he’d yearn for more.
He took the shaft in, felt the throb in his bulging throat, crushing his voice box and silencing him, but for whimpers. And Mohg’s clawed hand, holding and stroking the Lord, kept Blaidd silently guzzling that penis.
The eyes rolled, the tongue danced, the posterior swayed. And Blaidd’s shameful display slipped free from his sheath.
Again, he was not as impressive as his Lord or Mohg. The former, at full mast, possessed twice Blaidd’s size. Mohg? It was probably thrice. And both organs were hard… One was locked in Blaidd’s mouth, and another was out and dripping.
The smallest of the three was sadly pointing out and releasing its own bounty of fluids onto the stone floor, while Blaidd kept sucking and swallowing the mix of precum and saliva.
“He is a good boy… Maybe we shall offer him a bounty of a meal, later,” commented Mohg as he kept kissing the Lord’s neck, careful not to scrape the metal or the skin with his teeth and horns. Practically impossible.
But the Lord was protected and unbothered, not even speaking through his helmet.
And so… With shame, Blaidd looked at the Ashen Omen. And the fair-skinned but graying Tarnished as their hands enjoined the Half-Wolf to swallow and guzzle down the fluids.
“A good boy, indeed,” confirmed again the Lord, though he released his grip and, by his push, freed Mohg’s touch and Blaidd’s breath.
A sigh… Blaidd sighed when he pulled his mouth back and was allowed to breathe something other than his Lord’s pungent scent.
Alas, his throat was sore. And after stumbling on his posterior, Blaidd was in no position to resume his thankful ministration as his Lord, naked but for the Helmet, was lifted off the ground.
“If he stays put, he will earn his meal. Do we agree?”
“Yes,” confirmed the Lord, spreading his legs before the Omen slipped his arms beneath the knees.
And Blaidd was then, much to his shame and pleasure, on the first rank to see his Lord being taken by the Omen.
He’d already seen his Lord’s asshole. More than that, he’d already licked it clean, savored the flavor emanating from the wrinkled rim. He had already penetrated it, too. But the difference stood here as the Omen’s penis presented itself at the entrance, smacked it… And nudged it.
“You may stroke yourself, Blaidd. But I’d advise against it,” said the Lord.
“How so?” asked Mohg, eager and grunting while he had his tip smearing steamy hot precum on the entrance, practically pressing on it to bend, give up, and allow the monstrous shaft in: covered with spine, thick and even thicker at the tip.
“I cannot stop you from deriding him if he offers such a pathetic display.”
Blaidd’s ears dropped again, same as his arching brows. But something that didn’t drop was his erection, as even the snippets and chuckles were driving his needs closer. Surely, his groin burned and needed a release. But the more Mohg abused him, the more Blaidd relished it.
Blaidd’s relationship with the Lord was never the same… Would never be the same.
But far from finding it disgusting, there was something more fulfilling for the Half-Wolf as he had two fingers against the base and squeezed it.
“Go on… Cuck. You are allowed to take one whiff or two of the spear that will take your Lord.”
Oh, certainly Blaidd didn’t need further encouragement to do this. But he approached, crawled almost until his nostrils practically tickled Mohg’s erect and threatening spire.
“It is… Musky,” commented Blaidd, unable to resist the need to comment. To give more ammunition to the derision.
“Indeed. How astute of you, Blaidd, to recognize a male’s scent. You nary have experienced it yet you have the acumen to notice it,” mocked Mohg, swaying his hips… And hitting Blaidd’s face with his cock. “Receive graciously that reward for your talented nose.”
“Very graciously,” added the Lord, enjoying the play.
“Thank… You Mohg for this boon,” moaned Blaidd, taking a deep inhalation and finding himself hit by the musky aroma hitting the depths of his sense of smell. Certainly, one droplet must have lost itself in the far reaches.
At that instant, the Half-Wolf couldn’t deny the electrifying sensation etched in his mind and spine while his mast sprang to life with renewed energy. An energy that was nervous and insidious, and far fitting the situation as Blaidd’s two fingers were eager to squeeze the organ, to press on the pitiful red and elongated spire as well as the shy and demure knot at the base.
A wolf’s organ, yet diminutive and reduced.
A pathetic display that was far from satisfying his Lord when, with a wet suction, the Lord’s sphincter was penetrated… And widened beyond what Blaidd could offer.
“Shall we make it more vocal?”
“Is that so? Do you wish me to sing praise and glory for your… Cock?” asked the Lord, jesting and huffing. “Oh… Great Mohg. Your spear penetrates me so well.”
“Nay,” answered Mohg, kissing the neck. “Merely to show our… ‘pup’ how different it is. But I could be benevolent and tease with my toes what he possesses.”
Blaidd’s body froze, noticing the presence of Mohg’s clawed toe poking at his hairy scrotum. But such fear was… Absurd. But it twisted the knife and added itself to the compounding emotions that formed Blaidd’s mindset in that instant.
“Oh. Mohg. There is a time, I guess, your folly hasn’t left you.”
“Hrmph,” scoffed Mohg, a bit wounded. Enough for his thrust to be more decisive in taking the Lord’s entrance, with such pressure, the insides bulged from within. “This is no topic for our plays.”
“Mayhaps,” echoed the Lord, imitating Mohg by taking a deeper voice. “Or the Lord of Blood has too much blood going down his parts.”
“Let’s keep it… To the truth, then,” commented Mohg, suave while his toes retreated. No torture on them this week, then. “If you may?”
To punctuate his request, Mohg’s mast pulled back for less than a second. A second passed in which constantly pumped precum dripped from the gaping entrance on Blaidd’s face, his muzzle pointing up, and air continued to escape with fluids.
But those spurts were to stop… And instead remained the sound of suction when the Omen, with all its horrendous splendor, his weapon of an organ, penetrated the Lord until the slightly osseous scrotum hit the posterior and left a bruise behind.
“Ah! You are brutal, Mohg! Such a penis is… Not to use as brutally!” huffed the Lord, certainly controlling his breath and articulate speech when Mohg’s organ penetrated him… Then pulled, leaving him almost hollow.
And then, full again when Mohg’s thrust sent the Lord’s body rocking, and more fluids dripping all over the Half-Wolf’s back, enthralled as Blaidd was in watching and masturbating to the sight.
The odor that filled the roundtable’s room was pernicious and addictive to the sensitive nose. It remained around for days. It would do so and make the next meeting heavier with glances and comments.
Nevertheless… Blaidd continued to masturbate, to lick his coated lips, and to savor the flavor coming from Mohg’s spire while he penetrated… inserted himself… And threatened the Lord’s stamina by employing his own.
“Did our Shadowbound-Beast satisfy as much, my Lord?” asked Mohg, grinning and malicious. His eyes descended to meet with Blaidd when he swayed his hips. And then, the Lord’s plump posterior hid the sight and eyes… leaving only the hole sucking dearly on the penis, slurping and squelching whenever the organ was out.
Or when it slipped in.
Either way, the Lord huffed and cried.
“No! He could…. Not!” cried the Lord, probably hit within his depths.
“He could not? Why is that? My Lord? Blaidd is certainly dedicated to pleasing you, isn’t he?”
“He.. Hrmph!”
The Lord was about to speak, but another thrust hit him. Another shock sent the Tarnished rocking and his feet kicking nothingness.
“He? Please. Articulate your thought,” said Mohg, in another derisive kiss and huff, his penis almost slipping out of the orifice. But not… Not as the tip remained lodged within, and the sphincter was abundant in affection towards the wide corona. But not tense enough to halt the fluids from raining all over Blaidd’s coat.
“He… Hrmph!” cried the Lord again, silenced by another willful thrust. “He… hah! He! He! Was too small!”
“Oh? He was?” asked Mohg, feigning ignorance, slowing his penetration to have them be more sensual… To move their bodies in unison by employing his chest and arms to control the Lord’s sway.
“Oh… he is… Too small.”
“Definitely? Maybe he didn’t hear it. You should voice it higher.”
Mohg’s stamina was again at work. Sure, he breathed loudly. But he always took a deep breath and seemed to adjust his rhythm when he spoke. Whereas, when the Lord tried to talk, he showed no such scruples.
He unleashed his mast upon the Lord’s depths, sent him rocking, swaying, almost balancing when the scrotum’s osseous skin was in contact with the bruises-covered cheeks.
And Blaidd, below, was both a witness and a victim of such an assault.
Nearly, the testicles’ sway hit him. Nearly, the mockery hit his ego. Nearly, the drops avoided him but failed nonetheless.
Such musky rain, stinky and steamy, covered his face, which was now damp and just as drenched as the Lord’s hairy crevice. However, Blaidd had his mouth open and swallowed the cascade while his two fingers continued to stroke and please himself.
Even if it was with two fingers.
Indeed, he could do more, but he did not use more than two to squeeze the growing knot, or the tender tip… Or the needy mast.
He used solely two fingers, like desired, while the Lord’s above cried and moaned, unable to resist the assault as he tried to declare what Mohg coaxed out of him.
“He is far too small for me!”
“But he loves you, doesn’t he?”
“He can’t please me! He can’t!”
“Poor acteon. Why should you be so cruel to him?”
“He ne’er satisfied me! Only you can, Mohg! Mine is yours!”
“Yours is mine?”
“Yes! Take me! Use me with that magnificent penis! Please me! Fill me! Do not leave me wanting like Blaidd did with his puny organ!”
The Lord, at least, had some breath left to mock the puny and whimp Blaidd.
And Blaidd, despite the insult to his self and ego… kept stroking. His fingers were relentless, his groin aching for release. And indeed, the two above were eager for the release but would not allow themselves such.
Not… Unless he stepped first, unless he gave in.
“Fill me! Mohg! Mark me with your Omen seed! I shall be your Consort!”
And for their pleasures, to satisfy his Lord, Blaidd let go.
Not of his pathetic organ. He continued to stroke it, that dwarfed organ, that meager tool, that wee penis. And with two fingers, and two fingers alone, Blaidd came. He ejaculated, no longer restraining his desires as he howled to the moon like he did before.
Such a moon couldn’t be seen through the Castle’s stones.
But it was a cry when he ejaculated and two runty jets escaped from his urethra, from his tip, and smeared themselves on the floor. Only two shots, but it left him panting, and trembling, and shivering like he was sick.
Yet… Above, something else happened.
A grunt, a cry… And a few more thrusts. A few more bruises on the Lord’s posterior. And… There was rain.
It rained white upon the Half-Wolf, a sticky and musky rain he took in with an open and gulping mouth. It dripped over his fur, marking it. It dropped over his traits, concealing them. It rained upon and within his wide open nostrils, etching the Omen’s stench within it while his Lord’s pearly fluids were all over his backside.
Two men, two males, two fluids, two stench marking Blaidd as he enjoyed the afterglow like they did.
Then… As the thrusts weakened, abated, stopped… There was a slurping sound. And the rain turned into another cascade that washed all over Blaidd fur, leaving almost nothing untouched when the Half-Wolf opened his eyes and gazed upon his Lord’s gaping and oozing asshole.
Even if he so desired… After such an abuse, Blaidd couldn’t even satisfy him unless he rubbed his pathetic wee penis against the edge. And then, for what?
For a pathetic display?
Such was the one he offered when he straightened his back, craned his neck… And had his mouth met with his lowered Lord’s ass?
Or would it be worse than Blaidd licking and gulping and sucking onto his Lord’s asshole, getting the salty musk right from the source, amidst the rancid smell of ass and dick?
Nevertheless… The Half-Wolf willingly debased himself as he licked and swallowed and chugged down the dense cum like it was stuffing. And soon, his stomach warmed up from the wondrous sensation of fullness as he stroked it, smearing more cum all over his round belly.
“Isn’t he cute when he gets his meal?” asked the Lord, chuckling.
“He is,” added Mohg, less malicious and more… endeared. Much like when, while still holding onto the Lord, he sat on a chair’s edge… And had his Lord’s groin and his own practically aligned, put at the same level… Just so as to present the twin organs, with the biggest mast below.
“Keep cleaning us, Blaidd. And we shall extend this play until our next joust,” said Mohg, presenting his cock that was going limp, steadily, with the foreskin covering the charcoal black tip and forcing the cum over it to coalesce… And form a bead at the tip.
And Blaidd… unable to resist, bounced towards that tip to swallow it. And worship it.