Chapter 2: Dirty Mage

Thanks to b0b for beta reading this!

Journeyman Faoril – The Golden Hunger, the Nimborgoth

The spurt of hot cum into my pussy triggered another orgasm. It was a small one do to my exhaustion. I had cum so many, many times this night, letting pirate after pirate fuck me. Use me. The pirate atop me grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head. I stroked his pectoral muscles as my cunt spasmed about his dick, milking out his cum, joining the dozens of other loads that had emptied into me.

Filling me with degrading seed.

“Vedr’s queef,” the pirate groaned and rolled off of me. “You drained me, wench. Every drop.”

“Drained all of us,” a drowsy man muttered.

I lay on my back in the hold of the pirate ship, staring up at the dark ceiling. The Golden Hunger rocked in the Nimborgoth’s swell, creaking and groaning. My hand idly caressed my body. Everywhere I touched I felt cum drying. The crew of the pirate ship had drenched me.

Dirtied me.

I was dirty, filthy. Relaria’s yowls screeched through my mind again. I grit my teeth and forced myself to sit up. My head swam. Exhaustion pulled on me. I needed to be filled again. I was so empty inside.

But I had worn out all the pirates. I fell back on the floor, too exhausted to move, to cry.

Thrak

“Pater’s mighty cock!” screamed Capitan Thyrna as I rammed my dick into the tight glove of her asshole. My dick ached. I had not used it so much in such a short time, fucking her over and over for hours. Dawn approached. Not even as a youth, when I discovered the joys of self-gratification, had I cum so many times in a night.

“Las-damned damiana,” I cursed, slamming my dick into her bowels. It kept me hard even as I reamed the beautiful and passionate pirate captain’s ass. Her wavy-black hair spilled across her dark-brown, supple back. She arched into me, her bowels gripping my abused cock.

“I thought you were a warrior,” she hissed, throwing a fierce look over her face. “Fuck me! Show me that orc passion!”

My hands tightened on her hips. My hips thrust forward. She had doused me with damiana paste, an aphrodisiac alchemists were fond of making, sometime past midnight. Such lusts it inflamed, driving me to keep fucking her. She couldn’t dominate me with whips or her sharp fingernails.

But she could dominate my cock with trickery.

My thrusts were hard. Sweat rolled down my body, stinging the welts from her cat o’ nine tails and the scratches from her fingernails. I ignored the pain and the ache in my dick as I slammed into her bowel’s velvety grip. My balls smacked into her taint.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she hissed. “Give it to me. Mmm, I own every cock on my ship.”

“Las-damned whore!” My hand cracked down on her ass, leaving a burning, red print glowing amid her golden-brown skin.

“Yes!” she yowled, her ass clenching on my cock. “Yes, yes! Fuck me! Gods, your cock! A treasure! Stay on my ship. Reeve and pillage with me! Ooh, the fun we would have.”

A snarl curled my pierced lips. I spanked her ass again.

Her orgasm burst through her. She tossed back her head as she came, her bowels spasming on my cock. I groaned, savoring the grip. She massaged me, working my dick, begging my balls for a final load of cum.

They spasmed and tightened. Agony gripped them that merged into the rapturous friction gripping my cock. My back arched as I drove into her ass faster, harder. I didn’t care how sore the tip of my dick was or how much my balls burned. Ecstasy awaited me.

Another orgasm.

“Gewin’s mighty cock and balls!” I bellowed.

“Yes, yes, give it to me,” she hissed. “Shower me in your lusts!”

“Shower?” I ripped my cock out of her bowels and fisted it. The tip of my swarthy cock was angry red. My balls tightened. A painful rush shot up my cock. “Las-damned whore!”

My cum erupted out the tip. Each blast was a mix of sore agony and rapturous pleasure. My jizz splashed across her side and shoulders before landing on her face. She hissed as I grunted, squeezing out another blast to splatter her face.

“You las-damned savage!” she hissed as my final blast fired and splashed into her mouth. She spat the cum out, glaring at me.

I seized her black hair and pulled her to my cock, wiping the tip off in her hair, matting the dark curls with jizz. The ache shuddering through my dick, particularly when her hair tangled on my bone cock ring, was worth the spitting fury. She kept me from seeing to Faoril all night.

My lover hurt.

“Get out!” she spat, jizz dripping off her face.

“You look good with a male’s seed dripping on your face,” I laughed and picked up my kilt. I pulled it on as she wiped her face off on her sheets.

“You’ll pay for that, Thrak,” she hissed, her smile turning into a violent promise. “Ooh, I will make you pay.”

“You can try,” I said and strapped my great axe to my back. “Anytime you want a facial, just ask.”

She screeched at me as I walked out of her cabin. I needed to find Faoril. A short hallway led out to the deck. Four doors lined the passageway, the smaller cabins for passengers. I opened the first door and found Chaun sleeping on a hammock. I closed the door and tried the second.

“Hmm?” a sleepy Sophia asked as I peered in. She blinked at me as her hammock swung. Angela lay sprawled on the other, lying on her stomach, her arm dangling off the side.

“Just looking for Faoril,” I answered.

Sophia mumbled something unintelligent and then fell back onto her hammock. I tried not to ogle her naked breasts. I knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. I closed the door and tried the last two, but both were empty.

Frowning, I stepped onto the deck and almost ran into Minx. The halfling stretched her back as she looked up at me, her eyes bleary. “You look as tired as I feel, Orc.”

I grunted.

“Captain Thyrna tested your stamina.” A mischievous grin crossed her lips. “I see she took the lash to you.”

“Tried to.” My eyes swept the deck. In the bow, Xera sat cross-legged, her eyes closed as she leaned back against the railing. The first rays of the rising sun caught the top of her dark-green hair, picking out individual strands.

Faoril’s red robes lay in the middle of the deck, discarded. My stomach twisted. “Where’s Faoril?” “Below deck,” Minx said. “I think she fucked every sailor on the Golden Hunger four times. They were at it all night. That girl really loves cocks.”

“And cum,” I muttered.

“She’s your lover, right? Maybe she didn’t like you fucking the captain all night.”

“She’s a mage. Female mages are all cum-sluts.” And maybe it was good. Maybe she would be in a better mood after being gangbanged. “You should find your bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Minx nodded and yawned again. “Couldn’t sleep all night, too excited from the robbery, and then the sun rose and BAM! I can hardly keep ‘em open.”

The halfling padded around me and through the door to the cabins. I marched out into the center of the deck and scooped up Faoril’s robes. The pockets clinked, each weighed down by her arcane supplies. Her robe had a dozen or more pockets for her to secret small items in. Frowning, I walked down into the dark hold.

The reek of cum assaulted my nose. It was overpowering. So much jizz stained the air. Dark forms lay slumped across the floor, snoring, all naked men. And at the center, my Faoril lay on her back, her body almost white from the crusty spunk staining her. A puddle formed between her thighs, oozing out of her pussy.

“Well, you must have gathered enough cum to last you a month.”

Faoril’s eyes opened. “I guess.” Her words were dull, slurred. Her eyes bleary. She yawned and sat up. “I’m filthy.”

I nodded my head. “Yeah, being gangbanged by a crew of pirates will do that.”

She nudged one with her foot.

He groaned and opened his eyes. “You drained me, wench. Ain’t got nothin’ left fer you.”

“I need to bathe.”

“Can’t use the fresh water,” he said. “But I can pull you up some buckets of saltwater. Least I could do after we all drenched you.” He laughed and glanced at me. “That’s one wild woman you travel with. Suspect you know.”

“I know.” I studied Faoril. “But you can just use your magic to clean yourself, Faoril.”

She waved a hand at me as she forced herself to stand. A flood of cum poured out of her pussy and down her thighs. “Salt-waters fine. Too tired to use magic.”

Faoril stumbled to me. Even her hair was soiled. Her brown locks were matted and tangled. Streaks of dried cum silvered her locks. More flaked off as she tottered past me. I grabbed her as she almost fell.

She wrenched her arm from me.

“Faoril?” I frowned.

“I’m fine. Just need bath and sleep.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I followed her up the stairs to the deck. More cum leaked out of her ass, making a mess of her crack. She made it on deck and almost fell again as the ship pitched on a swell. The mast swayed above us.

“Vedr’s queef,” cursed the sailor who followed us. “Dawn’s up. Gonna be a long-cursed day.”

Faoril made it to the railing and sank down while the sailor fetched a wooden bucket and attached it to a length of rope. I sank down beside her, leaned on the railing, and studied her. She pulled her legs up, her breasts pressing into her thighs as she rested her chin on her knees.

“What happened in the palace?”

“Nothing.”

“Faoril.”

She glanced at me, her light-brown eyes dull. “Fought a master mage. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“But what else?” It had to be more than her fear of being branded a warlock and sentenced to death by the Magery Council. She was a fearless woman. It was deeper, darker. “You didn’t kill him?”

“No.” Her word was short, clipped. “He lived.”

“When we finish the quest and slay the dragon, the council will understand why you did it. Besides, he attacked you.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She glanced at her red robes. “I’m not a mage any longer. I’m a warlock. I don’t even have to wear this. I can wear what I want.”

“You’re still a mage.” I reached out to put an arm around her but she shied away.

“I’m filthy, Thrak.”

“I don’t mind,” I answered. “It’s mostly dried anyways.”

The sailor dropped the bucket of seawater before her. Some sloshed over the rim. She seized it, grunting beneath its weight, and dumped the water over her head. It flowed over her, washing across her naked flesh and spilling on the deck. A salty scent caught my nose.

Then she grabbed the sleeve of her robe and rubbed at herself. “I’ll need more.”

“Sure, sure,” the sailor said and pitched it over.

It took three more buckets to clean her. I watched her, studying her, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. She was hurting. I wanted to hold her, but she kept claiming to be filthy when I tried, then she would scrub at her body harder with the sleeve of her robe.

Finally she stood dripping, water beading on her skin and flashing like diamonds in the rising sun. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath as her hands ran through her wet hair, squeezing out the excess.

“Faoril, please, talk—”

“I need sleep,” she muttered and walked past me without a word.

I caught her arm and yanked her around. “No, we need to—”

She slapped me. It hardly stung, she weighed so little she couldn’t put much energy into her slaps even if she stood properly. I blinked anyways. “Let me go!” She jerked her arm. “I’m fine, Thrak. Stop asking me.”

I let her go. She stalked across the deck, leaving wet footprints on the pine-yellow planks. Then she crashed through the door to the cabins. It banged shut behind her. My cheek burned. Despite the light tap, it hurt more than the welts and scratches decorating my body.

“Biaute’s tits, what did you do to piss her off?” the sailor asked.

I glared at him.

The sailor raised his hands and backed off. I turned to the sea, my brows furrowing. Something terrible had happened in the palace. Something she was forced to do. What? How could I help her? I leaned on the railing, watching the waves as the sun inched higher and higher, painting swells with caps of gold.

“What is going on?” a sleepy Sophia muttered. “Who’s banging doors?”

“Faoril,” I answered, glancing over my shoulder as the acolyte tottered to me.

She blinked and rubbed sleep from her eyes. “What did the Captain do to you, Thrak? You look like you tumbled through a prickleberry patch.”

“Captain has sharp claws.”

She reached the railing and leaned on it. “We heard. Between you and the captain and Faoril entertaining the entire crew it was hard to get any sleep. And I finally get it and ... bang!” She smacked her hand on the railing then winced, shaking her hand. “Why’s Faoril slamming doors?”

“What did she do in the palace last night?”

“I don’t know. She was summoned away from the party before we were attacked. She didn’t want to talk about it after she returned. We were all reeling at how it went wrong.” Sophia sighed. “Still am reeling. I’m a fugitive now. The daughter of a Duchess. My mother will be furious at the scandal this causes. And poor Angela ... She sees herself as something good and positive, and robbing a Doge and taking him hostage, well...”

I nodded my head.

“And you’re hurt,” Sophia gasped, shoving a hand into her pocket. “I have a vial here. Let me make you a healing potion.”

“I’m fine.”

“Thrak,” she said, shaking her head even as she opened her robes, “you are covered in scratches and welts. Stop being such an orc and let me heal you.”

A snorting laugh escaped my lips. “I remember when you were afraid of me.”

“I did think you were dangerous.” A smile played on her lips. “I get things wrong a lot. But Angela sees things right. She’s special that way.” Sophia bit her lip then muttered beneath her breath, “Queen’s concubine.”

“What?”

“The sphinx called me that last night,” she said when she opened her robe. “A concubine fit for a queen. Everyone seems to think Angela getting a sword is bad because they fear she’ll try to claim her ancestor’s throne.” Her pink nipple popped into sight, hard atop her small breast. “She doesn’t want that. Yet, why couldn’t a woman rule?”

“Pater rules in heaven, so men rule on earth,” I quoted.

She circled her nipple then froze, her eyes widened. “Turn around. Don’t look at my tits, Thrak!”

I laughed again and turned, but my mirth quickly died as Sophia spoke her prayer and invoked her Goddess’s power. I gripped the railing with my left hand as I puzzled out how to help Faoril. I needed the right words to break through her melancholy.

It was hard to think. My thoughts were sluggish from lack of sleep and my exertions with the captain. After I downed Sophia’s milky potion, the magic soothing the burning scratches and welts, I sought a cabin. I didn’t go into the one Faoril went into. I needed to think.

I stretched myself out on the second hammock in Chaun’s cabin. The ropes creaked and, for a heart beat, I feared my bulk was too great to be supported by the netting of the swaying hammock.

But they held and sleep fell upon me. Before it claimed me, I wished Serisia’s spirit was still with me.

She would know how to help Faoril.

Chaun

My eyes opened. The hammock creaked. I blinked and yawned, then glanced to my right. Thrak slept, arms folded across his chest. I had not expected him to sleep here. I groaned, my back sore from sleeping on the hammock.

I rolled out of the swaying hammock and opened my troubadour’s chest. It was a remarkable object. I wooed a twinborn witch, a wanderer like myself, and she made it for me. It could shrink to fit in my pocket or expand to the size of an average traveling chest. And inside it had far more space. I didn’t understand the magics that created it, but it let me carry a vast wardrobe wherever I went.

I needed to be ready to change clothing to fit a wide variety of body sizes and social classes. But today, I went as my normal appearance, slim and tall. I dug around until I found a gold-trimmed, blue doublet and matching hose with a spectacular codpiece. The pattern of gold filaments always attracted a lady’s eye and set her imagination galloping as she wondered on what it contained.

Dressed, I headed onto deck. The captain had emerged, looking beautiful and remote as she barked orders at her sluggish crew. The large men spilled naked or hardly dressed from below deck—Faoril had worn them out.

What a woman to handle so many big men.

“Morning, Captain,” I smiled, fixing her a bow.

She gave me only a contemptuous snort. Most women found me innately attractive in my regular appearance, but the captain had a type, and it wasn’t slim, elfin men with faces verging on beautiful. She liked her men big, hairy. Every one of her crew had barrel chests and broad shoulders, and the way she looked at them was possessive.

But which man did she fancy? I stared at her, my psychic senses reaching out. Every woman in the world had someone in her past or present whom she loved if she didn’t love anyone in the present. It would be a man whose appearance I could transform into and seduce the women. I preferred married women—they always shone with a white aura, attracting me with the urge to seduce them and impregnate them while wearing their husband’s faces—but even a single woman had her charm.

Nothing.

No man appeared in my mind. No lover from her past. No one who she loved now. Even Sophia, a lesbian to her core, had once had a childish crush on a groom when she was a sweet, young maid. I had never met a woman of a duel-sexed raced that I couldn’t affect. And the captain was human.

Or she appeared to be human.

She had never loved before. Was that possible? I scanned the deck. Xera sat cross-legged, asleep in the bow while Sophia bent over the railing, her laughter occasionally rising over the creak of sails as the pirate crew worked in the rigging. The ship lurched, the breeze catching in the sails, taking us south to the Island of Birds.

I moved to Sophia. She stared at a pod of dolphins frolicking around the ship, their sleek, gray bodies breaking the surface, their nickering songs echoing. Delight played on her youthful face as she clapped her hands.

“Oh, they’re as beautiful as the tales,” she smiled. “Aren’t they, Chaun?”

I nodded my head. “The captain’s not human.”

“Oh?” Sophia frowned, glancing at Captain Thyrna as she strolled the stern deck, hissing orders. “What is she?”

I shrugged.

“Does it matter?”

I shrugged again.

“You’re a lot of help.”

I shrugged a third time.

Sophia punched me in the shoulder. We both laughed as I rubbed where she hit. She leaned on the railing, smiling at the dolphins as they swam along the ship, playing in the spray from the bow as it knifed through the waters.

I studied her profile. “When did you start liking me?”

“When you risked your life to stop the dwarf queen. I think. But I did know you were hiding something.” She grinned at me. “It was so obvious.”

I winced. “Was it?”

She nodded her head. “But Lady Delilah ... You really have no idea what she plans?”

“Nor why she gave Angela that necklace or why that Fireeyes had its twin. I only know the Warlock from stories.”

Sophia sighed and rested her head on the railing. “Something more is going on than just this Quest. My Goddess visits me in my dreams sometimes. She doesn’t just do that for anyone.”

“You’re hardly anyone, Sophia.”

She snorted. “I was the worst acolyte at the temple. A spoiled brat using my mother’s power and wealth to escape my responsibilities.”

“You’re special,” I nodded. “I can see it. You’ll be remembered in songs, Sophia. The acolyte at the fugitive knight’s side, with her from the beginning until the end when she slays the dragon.”

“And when she’s queen,” Sophia whispered. “Her concubine.”

“That would be a great story.” A smile crossed my lips. “An epic song that requires only the best bard to pen it.”

Sophia laughed. “Who would that be?”

“You wound me,” I sighed tragically, and then we laughed together. It felt wonderful after last night.

Knight-Errant Angela

I woke to swaying, my stomach rumbling. The entire boat moved and rolled. I groaned as I sat up. My head ached. I swung my feet off my hammock and forced myself to dress in my armor. I was still a knight in spirit even if my actions at the Saltspray Palace would see my spurs taken and my name stricken from the rolls, attainted.

I would kill the dragon. I had come this far already. I had suffered, bled, and fought. I had two pieces of my ancestor’s sword. Two-fifths of the weapon complete. And we had the adamantium, recovered at great danger from the abandoned dwarf mines. We would soon have the third piece. The Captain said we would arrive at the Island of Birds around evening.

I adjusted my stance as the ship rocked beneath me. Sunlight streamed through the small, round window in the cabin. I think it was called the porthole. I glanced out it, but all I saw was endless blue, the water rippling in the sunshine.

I left my cabin and walked out into the deck. The sun was low on the horizon. A few hours passed dawn and ... I frowned. The sun was on my right, but if we sailed south, that meant my right was west. So the sun was setting not rising. I blinked.

“There you are, sleepyhead,” Sophia called. “I was fearing you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Well, I was up all last night emptying my stomach,” I said. My stomach growled. No wonder I felt empty. An entire day spent in bed.

“There’s food down below. Ask one of the sailors.” She grimaced. “It’s fish stew and it’s not great.”

“It’s better than nothing,” I smiled.

Sophia shrugged her shoulders.

Chaun sat near her, strumming his lyre and singing a festive song which had the pirate crew moving around with a jaunt in their step. Minx giggled and danced before him, her little hips shaking while Xera sat cross-legged and watched. Thrak was in the bow, staring at the sea.

“Faoril?”

“She’s sleeping longer than you,” Sophia answered. “Well, she did fuck the entire crew last night.” Her smile slipped. “Thrak’s worried about her.”

“Because she fucked the entire crew?”

Sophia shook her head. “He thinks she’s hurting from fighting the mage last night.”