A Daemon-Horn Blade
Copyright© 2010 by Stultus
Prologue
Fantasy Sex Story: Prologue - A fantasy/romance novel of young blacksmith who rescues the Duke's daughter from a demonic attack. He breaks off the horn from the creature's head and slays the monster with it, nearly dying himself in the process. Recovering with the aid of a traveling gleaman and Lore-Master, the lad finds himself at the center of a new great adventure while seeking to find out what he is becoming, and what fate the Weavers have in store for him. The first chronological story of Weaver's World.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Romantic NonConsensual Rape Magic Slavery Fiction Tear Jerker Humiliation Torture Safe Sex Oral Sex Anal Sex Voyeurism Body Modification Slow Violence
The Maiden Urðra frowned as she reached into her box of raw threads and discarded handful after handful. 'Too dark!' She muttered, mostly to herself, as she drove her hand into her spinning box yet deeper, to find something newer and brighter ... or at least something different.
"Yes indeed." The Matron Veránda muttered in concurrence. "The weaving has been much too dark, as of late, and my next panel could do with a bit of brightness."
"Quite so!" The Crone Skúlda rasped with annoyance. There has been nothing, of late, but doom and gloom woven on your loom. Perhaps it's time for you to take a rest, assume my shears, for awhile, and let a new cycle begin.
"Perhaps ... it is nearly time for the end of the age," The Matron agreed, "but not just yet. Let me complete the weaving of this era with something bright and colorful; a cheerful note to continue into the next great panel of the story, if my dear Veránda can spin us one last new and cheerful bit of thread, worthy for this undertaking."
As the Maiden delved deeper into the remnants of her raw unspun fiber stock, which she had earlier gathered from the Great Tree of Life, she finally clasped her hands onto something new, and maybe perhaps, worthy. Carefully with her long age of experience, she spun this rather singular piece of thread. It was indeed quite bright and colorful; well suited for detailing this last great end panel, but as she extracted the long spun thread from her spinning wheel, to give it to the Matron, she paused and reexamined it. While lovely to behold, the thread was defective ... actually being a long pair of distinctly different threads, tightly interwoven that she found could not be separated. This was not at all correct or proper, and the Maiden was about to discard the thread as unworthy, until the Matron stayed her hand.
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