The Black Rabbit - Cover

The Black Rabbit

Copyright© 2017 by Robberhands

Chapter 52

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 52 - The story takes place in a fantasy world, roughly comparable to the time and area in Europe and the Mediterranean at the beginning of the first millennium AD. It's about the journey of a very unusual young man; as unusual in his world, as he would have been in ours. It's about the people he met and the things he learned from them; as well as it's about what he taught them in return. But mainly, it's about your enjoyment, so don't take anything too seriously.

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   Magic   NonConsensual   High Fantasy   Anal Sex   First   Slow   Violence  

“I need to get out of here,” Sybelien stated as she left the king’s study.

Anseyla followed her girlfriend wordlessly until they crossed the gate and left the White Citadel.

“Where are we going?” She asked.

I am going,” Sybelien answered. “And I’ll be going alone if you can’t keep your mouth shut while you follow me.”

Anseyla managed to keep silent for quite some time as they walked through the town. The sun had set but the traffic on Katerra’s streets was still bustling, especially when they reached the harbor district. Anseyla finally broke her silence as they steered toward the entrance door of ‘The Drowned Sailor’.

“Are you hoping someone will take you in as a slave once again?” She asked.

“At least no one here will pretend to be my friend while they demand me to become someone I don’t want to be,” Sybelien answered.

“Ouch!” Anseyla exclaimed but then she sighed. “I deserved that, I guess.”

Sybelien sighed, too. “I didn’t know what I’d lose when I decided to become Sybelien Rossano’Shenta,” she said as she opened the door to the quayside tavern. “Tonight I want to be Sybil Ghyssa one last time.”

The taproom of The Drowned Sailor was only dimly lit. The patrons occupied tables in the darkest corners of the room and what little could be seen of them matched the tavern’s shady ambiance. Sybelien sat down at an empty table close to the counter. Anseyla followed suit.

“Are we here to celebrate your coming nuptial?” Anseyla asked. “Or are we just going to get drunk until we’re dragged into a dark corner and ravished?”

Sybelien’s only response was a wave of her hand. The man behind the counter noticed her beckoning and came over.

“What can I do for you?” He asked when he stood at their table.

“Good evening, Matosh,” Sybelien greeted. “Don’t you recognize me anymore? Not even half a cycle has passed since the last time we met.”

The man’s brow wrinkled as he looked her over thoroughly and then his eyes suddenly widened.

“Is that you, Sybil?” He gasped.

“Yes it’s me, Sybil Ghyssa,” she answered. “Do you finally remember me?”

“Of course I remember you ... but you look totally different today ... how?” He stammered.

“Do you maybe also remember the young man who accompanied me the last time we met?”

“Yes, of course. It was the day of the big trial in the Marble Cemetery and the young man was the heretic who escaped... , “ Matosh trailed off and paled.

“Yes,” she replied. “His name is Jabbit and he healed me. That’s why I look different today. Now bring me a pitcher of wine. I’m thirsty.”

For a moment the innkeeper frozenly stared at Sybelien but then he moved very quickly.

“Smooth, honey bunny, real smooth,” Anseyla commented.

Sybelien didn’t react to her. A short while later, Matosh wordlessly placed a jug, and two goblets on their table before he rushed off again. Anseyla took the jug and filled both their goblets.

“Here’s to the bride,” she toasted and drank without waiting for Sybelien. “By the way, did Jabbit ask you to become his devoted priestess or did you ask him for this honor yourself?”

“He neither asked me nor did I ask him,” Sybelien answered and took a swig of wine as well. “Why do you ask? Did you hope I’d be faithful to you?”

“Yes,” Anseyla answered and drank up her wine in one deep swallow.

“I was worried you’d sprout all this shit about evil and darkness.”

“I supported that just to drive a wedge between you and Jabbit,” Anseyla stated, refilling her goblet. “Which makes me kinda evil myself.”

“Jealousy doesn’t become you but I wouldn’t call it evil,” Sybelien answered but then her gaze diverted and she looked past Anseyla.

Two men arose out of a dark corner and came swaggering toward them.

“Good evening, my lovelies,” one of them greeted as he sat down at their table. “I’m Halen Danwar and my friend’s name is Kajal Thorren. We are two soldiers of fortune far away from home and in dire need of company.”

“We noticed that you are also lacking company,” his friend said and sat down as well. “We’d be happy to spend some time and coin on you pretties.”

Anseyla smiled at them. “Two studly men like you in lack of female company?” She asked. “This has to be my lucky day.”

“Ansa, don’t do this,” Sybelien warned.

“Why not? It seems the holidays are over,” Anseyla answered before her gaze returned to the men. “My friend is saving herself to become a priestess but I’m a working girl. Don’t you worry, though, I can assure you, if you’re willing to pay my price I’ll be more than enough for the both of you.”

Now Sybelien addressed the men, too. “You have to excuse us; we had a little squabble and my girlfriend is momentarily beyond reason,” she apologized. “So I’ll warn you both as well - if you take her with you, I’ll kill you and your friend before you two can enjoy whatever she offered you.”

“You’ll what?” Halen Danwar asked, gaping at the blonde.

“Why do you care?” Anseyla questioned, ignoring the men at their table. “I always was a whore.”

“I care because you are not a whore anymore,” Sybelien answered, ignoring the men as well.

“You said, tonight you want to be Sybil Ghyssa for one last time,” Anseyla replied. “You were a thief, I was a whore. Maybe tonight I want to be my old self, too, for one last time.”

“No - you are doing this out of spite!” Sybelien shouted.

“Yes!” Anseyla screamed right back. “I’m jealous and it hurts.”

Sybelien glared at her. “And this is your revenge?”

“Yes, this is my revenge on you!”

Sybelien didn’t reply, only glared at her girlfriend.

“Why don’t you let me have my revenge?” Anseyla asked.

“Fine! You won,” Sybelien yelled. “I won’t let you fuck these scumbags because I’m jealous, too.”

After that was said, Anseyla smiled, Sybelien sulked, and it was silent at the tavern until the innkeeper carefully approached their table.

“Sybil, have you and your girlfriend calmed down?” Matosh Ashkan asked. “You are scaring my guests ... and me.”

“Just a little quarrel between lovers but we’re good again,” Anseyla soothed.

“The blonde threatened to kill us,” Kajal Thorren complained.

“Yes, my snuggle-bunny can become a bit rude when she’s angry,” Anseyla conceded. “Tell you what - as compensation for this unpleasantness, I’ll give you and your friend a free evening at my mother’s house, the Banyan Dream.”

“Your mother is Inandrey Danjala?” Halen Danwar gasped.

“Are you working at the Banyan Dream as well?” His friend asked excitedly.

“No, she doesn’t,” Sybelien hissed. “Now get lost. I never invited you to join my table.”

The two friends, as well as the innkeeper, hastily retreated.

“I love you,” Anseyla stated. “I always will.”

“I know and I love you, too,” Sybelien sighed. “Which doesn’t make this any easier.”

“Don’t worry; love will find a way.”


After Evanis had left the study she went to the king’s armory once more. Boltan Falkmass, the armorer, was a sturdy old man with lively eyes, regarding Evanis thoroughly as she entered his smithy.

“I need new armor, old man,” she factually stated as she stood before him, a workbench between them.

“Again?” Falkmass asked. “What happened to the last I gave ye?”

“My armor got burned ... again. Don’t you have any armor which can’t get burned?”

“Only if I could make armor out of yer skin,” the old man replied with sparkling eyes.

Evanis grinned. “Sadly, I can’t give you my skin; I already sold it to someone evil.”

The sturdy, old man thoughtfully nodded. “Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

“I got a copper coin and still wear my skin, so I think it was a bargain.”

“Did ye get those weapons as well? I’ve never seen such a work before.”

“My weapons? No - I’ve had them since I was a girl and although they are very valuable to me, there is nothing special about them.”

“I doubt there is nothing special about yer weapons. May I have a closer look?”

Evanis put her dagger and falcata on the workbench.

“They got heated two times - very recently - that’s why they are a bit blackened,” she mentioned while the armorer carefully studied the weapons.

The old man shook his head. “I don’t think it’s blackened,” he said. Then he took an oily rag and carefully wiped along the blade of the falcata. “I’ve never ever seen such a metal.”

“I assure you my weapons are made of iron. My sister bought the falcata here in Katerra. That was a decade ago.”

“Whatever it was made of when yer sister bought it, the blade I hold in my hands isn’t made of any iron I know. An old friend of mine is a master weapon-smith. For ages, he’s been tinkering with alloys of iron for the blades he forges but nothing he ever made comes even close to this. I’m bloody certain I couldn’t melt yer blades in my forging furnace. How did ye get them heated?”

“Ouhm ... the first time it was the explosion of a lava rock and the second time the fire-breath of a dragoness.”

The armorer looked at Evanis and raised a brow. “I see what ye meant as ye said there’s nothing special about yer weapons.”

“Well, we live in interesting times, don’t we?”

“Some of us more so than others,” the old man replied. “Maybe you should ask yer god for an armor that can’t get burned. He seems quite capable and willing to provide for ye.”

“I could do that,” Evanis pondered. “But then I’d feel obligated to be thankful and that’s not worth it.”

The old man smirked. “I understand. I have to search my armory because ye want to cover the ungrateful skin ye already sold.”

“Yes, pretty much so,” Evanis agreed. “You’re a gutsy old man - I like you. Now find me some armor or I’ll like you much less.”

“Aye, Commander Danjala, always a pleasure to be at yer service.”

When Evanis returned to the Citadel main building, the Lady Onessa was awaiting her at the entrance.

“Hello Evanis,” she greeted. “I was hoping to meet you before you went to sleep.”

“It’s not that late,” Evanis dismissed. “Anyhow, what do you want?”

“I’m assuming you will become Sybelien’s military commander. That’s why I want to tell you all I know about the neighboring countries in regards to military power and their political affiliations.”

“That’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“As you said, it’s not that late yet,” Onessa replied with a smile. “Besides, the coming days will be very busy for all of us. So I don’t know if there will be any better opportunity to talk to you.”

“I guess you’re right,” Evanis said and followed the Lady Onessa to her quarters.


Rhaseris lay in bed, sprawled out at Jabbit’s side. Their bodies, at first still damp from the bath they took together, never had any time to dry.

“Thank you, my Lord, I never felt so greatly missed before,” she husked in his ear.

“I have to thank you as well; it’s always a great pleasure to miss you.”

Rhaseris giggled. “Luckily you are a young man and can miss me often enough to ease the pain - or is it because you’re a god?”

“You think I miss you more because I’m not human?”

“Yes, I do. Anseyla also told me you’re cheating and she should know after all.”

“Wouldn’t I be cheating more if I’d pretend to be human?”

She pursed her lips and thought before she answered. “I guess that’s true, although there are many ways to cheat.”

The tips of their noses touched as Jabbit turned his head to look into her eyes. “Can you explain what you call cheating?”

“You know I was a virgin before I met you, so I can’t compare. Anseyla does have the experience, though, and she told me she’s absolutely certain you are manipulating her desires to overwhelm her.”

“That’s true,” Jabbit admitted. “Whenever Anseyla comes to me, she tries to use her body and skills as a lover to manipulate me into doing something she wants. I use my abilities to negate hers but I don’t ask for anything. Most times, I even do what she wants me to do anyway.”

“We are women,” Rhaseris pouted. “It’s our prerogative to use our charms to gain what we want. It’s unfair to negate our womanly wiles.”

“Why don’t you just ask me what you want from me?”

“Where would be the fun in that?”

Jabbit’s brow wrinkled. “I guess that’s true. I enjoy all your womanly wiles very much. I need to learn to be more appreciative of your efforts.”

“That’s very wise of you, my Lord,” Rhaseris said and then she kissed him. After the kiss, she licked her lips and looked into his eyes. “I was just thinking you are right. It’s silly calling me your First Priestess as long as you have no other priestesses.”

“Yes, all through the kiss I could feel that you were thinking.”

“You need to be more subtle when you appreciate our womanly wiles, my Lord.”

“I’m happy you think I’m right. Do you maybe have a solution for this dilemma?”

“That’s much better,” Rhaseris said and smiled. “The old Alorian priesthood perished but the people still seek religious guidance. As your First Priestess, I should do all I can to help but I can’t do it alone. I should search for help myself. What do you think, my Lord?”

“I like abbeys and monks,” Jabbit suggested.

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