Seduction

This is a story created in the world of Norrath. Norrath exists in a roleplaying online game called EverQuest.

Note: An enchanter in the world of Norrath has the ability to shapeshift into other forms and races.

I am highly receptive of any feedback you may have. :) Enjoy...

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The barbarian kicked open the door to the lodging and stomped inside. He looked around at the meager furniture in the room and frowned at the stone desk in the corner accompanied with a sturdy wooden chair. Frivolous items for a room he thought of the desk. He surveyed the sagging bed against the rear wall and the unlit fireplace. A misshapen, ragged, polar bear pelt that was lying on the floor near the fireplace aroused another frown from the giant.

He took the torch he had been given by the innkeeper and lit the torches on either side of the door. Then he stomped over to the fireplace and threw the torch into it. He tossed his two bloodied blades over by the bed. He threw down his plated gloves onto the frozen dirt floor followed by his breastplate, which fell with a crash. Next, his greaves were discarded as well. With a grumble, this was followed by his helm. He stepped away from his armor and fell upon the bed with his arms outstretched.

Zankorel let out a stream of obscenities in his native tongue as his mind drifted back to his last battle. His huge hands turned into fists as he thought of the enchantress he had lost in that battle. It should have been an easy victory, one that he had partaken many times. However, the enchantress had been giddy and not paying attention when the enemy assailed her from behind. She fell with nary a scream, indeed the clerics had no time to save her. He had beaten the enemy down with revenge filling his frenzy. Zankorel had pulled the limp body of his friend to the clerics for them to apply their healing. Yet, it had been too late. The enchantress had taken too severe a blow and she could not be summoned back from the Gods.

When he closed his eyes he could see the elves’ eyes glistening with mischief, heard her laughter, and could smell her hair as it whipped past his head in one of her many dances. He could feel her warm body wrapped around him in one of the many throes of passion they had shared. He would miss her. “Magic users and their fragile bodies,” he spat out angrily. He felt guilt because the blade had penetrated her soft skin and not his hardened body. He felt remorse because he had not seen the enemy approach. He felt lonely.

Growling to himself, he sat up and grabbed one of his blades. From the leather pouch around his waist, he grabbed a stone and started to sharpen the sword he held.

A soft knock resounded in his room and he sprang alert, holding the sword across his chest. He approached the door warily but ready for a fight.

“Aye?” he asked of the door.

No answer.

He listened.

A soft knock answered.

“Aye?” he asked with a sound of thunder.

No answer.

He sneered. Someone was playing games with this warrior. He had no patience for games. He would teach the youths that knocked on a warrior’s door in the middle of the night some manners he decided.

He whipped open the door with his blade held high ready to thrust his weapon into the youth’s laughing belly when he faltered. Had he not been a seasoned bladesman he surely would have dropped the sword on his toe from the surprise of the person who invaded his privacy.

Her eyes were large and deep pits of black. Her hair was windblown, long, and appeared disheveled. It was the color of wheat. Her ears were long and pointed resembling an elven trait. Her face was round, tan, and beautiful. She was swathed in a leather blanket which she held tightly closed at her neck. At first he thought she was a wood elf and wondered why a wood elf would be in Halas in the middle of the night. They did not have the thick skin or bulk necessary for dwelling in the cold, harsh city of Halas. However, his second thought was that this elf was too tall to be of only wood elf origin. This elf stood to above his chest, a feat impossible for any wood elf.

“Aye?” he asked of the visitor, this time with a much softer voice.

The creature looked into his eyes and deliberately pulled a hand from beneath the blanket held around her and placed it over her mouth. She shook her head from side to side.

Puzzled, he drew his eyebrows in while trying to figure out this gesture. Realization that this girl was trying to tell him she was mute made him raise his eyebrows in surprise.

The elf pointed to his fire and looked up at him pleadingly.

He debated a moment. While he did not care for company on this night of retreat and reflection, he hated to send this girl out into night where she would surely die to the peril of the icy night.

He opened the door wider and gestured for her to enter. She smiled warmly at him and entered his lodging silently. He noted that she was as barefoot as him and could not imagine how she had made her way through the icy streets of Halas with no shoes. Even hardened barbarians would never venture out in the night without shoes in their beloved city.

She stood at his fire briefly before she threw off the leather blanket. He gasped when he saw that she wore not a piece of covering under blanket. Her long hair covered much of her back, but stopped in wispy curls at the start of her buttocks. With her back to him, he drank in the beauty of her curvaceous body. She bent over to poke at the fire, and with her buttocks raised high above the rest of her body and part of her womanhood peeking between her legs he felt lust start to build in his loins.

He sat on the chair, far away from the treasure that had thieved into the night upon his door. But, he could not tear his eyes from her. Her hair fell to either side and gently stirred from a breeze either coming from the confines of the fireplace or perhaps from a chink out of the stone walls.

She stood from the fire and faced him. He could not prepare himself for the sight she bestowed. Her breasts had to be an illusion for no creature as small in frame as this petite girl could carry two enormous mammiforms.

He sat on his hands to contain them from reaching out. However, he was unable to tear his stare from the tanned creation before him. He let his eyes drink in her breasts a while longer, feeling more lust in his loins, before he ventured to her waistline which was very small, to her hips, to the patch of womanhood covering, to her long legs.

The elf smiled at him before she turned her silhouette to him and sat on the pelt before the fireplace. She rubbed her hands together in a motion to warm them and while she did this, her breasts bounced happily.

She looked from the fire to him. She smiled and patted the pelt beside her in a gesture of welcome.

What kind of host would not be obliged to sit closer to his guest.

Zankorel rose from his chair and shuffled over to her, trying to weigh in his mind the advantages and disadvantages of this maneuver. He felt like he was mesmerized and could not think of anything else other than the warmth of the fire and the flesh of the elf.

He sat down beside her. His arm brushed past one breast and he felt intoxicated. The girl reached for his hand and brought it to her breast, inviting him once more. He pulled away his hand for a second to stare at the exquisite nipple that centered on the piece of flesh she offered. It was hard, small, and inviting. He let his hand fall back to the soft flesh and he squeezed it softly to be sure it was not an illusion.

The elf moaned in pleasure and leaned back her head, allowing her abundant chest to arch more towards the warrior. He brought his other hand down onto her other breast and tweaked the nipple. Shivers not caused by cold coursed through her body and her tongue slipped out of her mouth and licked the top of her lips. He continued to please this creature by kneading on her breasts and pulling on her nipples with his fingers.

Soon, his mouth had to taste this elf to be assured that she was not an illusion. He bit lightly on a nipple before he sucked on it. Soon, he felt the other nipple needed some attention so he licked around it for a few tantalizing moments before he growled and started sucking on it. His manhood was starting to throb, and he felt ascertain that it had grown in depth much more than his kilt could hide.

As if sensing his passion, the elf positioned herself so she was lying partly across his lap. She pulled up his kilt and saw his engorged manhood. She flicked out her tongue and sampled the top of him. Lightening coursed through his veins as her wet tongue ran over his head. He rolled his eyes as he felt her mouth slide down him. He took his hands from her breast and nested one in her hair. He watched as she feasted on him and desperately wished for the first time this creature could make noise . . . to help cover the noises he found himself making from the pleasure she was delivering.

Partly to muffle his sounds and partly from desire, he buried his head in between her legs and tasted her. When his tongue encountered her needy folds her body bucked and she hesitated. Her juices flowed heavily onto his tongue and he lapped them up greedily.

Soon, her mouth was not enough for his manhood and he desired to impale this beauty and make her his own if just for the night. He lifted from her, and lifted her head from his lap. She resisted, trying vainly to keep on him, but he persisted. Finally, realizing his intent, she relented and opened her legs in invite.

He lay on top of her and drank in her black eyes but for a moment before he thrust inside her hot wet sheath for the first time. Her head rolled back and she caught her breath. Their intercourse merged them into one as he felt her breasts moving beneath his chest and her heart beating with his. He cried out as he released his seed deep inside this creature, his neck arched upward much as a wolf might when they bayed at the moon. With one final thrust he pulled himself out and lay beside her on the pelt. In unison, they tried to calm their breathing and pulses.

She turned her head to him and smiled warmer than a run through Oasis. Then while he devoured her beauty with his eyes once again, she leaned in and kissed him. Her tongue danced on his briefly before she withdrew sucking on his lower lip for half a heartbeat. This kiss he knew.

His eyebrows knotted in concern while he tried to decide the last girl that kissed him in this fashion and when he remembered he leapt from the floor. The elf closely followed, still smiling. She metamorphed into a high elf right before his widened eyes. She turned away from him and went to the door. He followed as if being dictated, his legs not obeying his will. She opened the door and turned to him.

“Goodbye, Zankorel my friend. Think of me with a smile or think of me not,” she whispered in his ear and winked at him before she shut the door separating them forever.

Zankorel stood only for a moment in bewilderment before he realized that his friend had come to him on his night of mourning to have one last night of passion. Even from beyond death, the enchantress had found the ability to seduce him once again.