Harrold and Dryope

Welcome, not so gentle readers.

This is a one shot, just to let out some of the darkness running around my head. Just a warning, this is a really dark story, not like the stories of House Valor. I placed this in Horror for a reason. I also did not bother editing this.

This takes place in Kingdom of Sumpter, for those curious, it is north of the Starn Mountains and Darkhunt, past the forest of Eversleep, and into the foot hills of once was the northern ocean.

The brutal heat of the noon sun baked the air around Harrold, his labored breath struggling to keep up with his exertions. He tried to wipe the sweat from his brow, what sweat was left, but all he managed to do was add yet another layer of grit to his forehead. "Another fucking wonderful day." Not that any of them were any different. Trying to ignore the torment, he bent his back to his work, prying a stubborn stone from the packed, parched dirt with his pickaxe.

Harrold was one of twenty men working this acre of land, turning the dirt by hand to remove the field stone and stumps. It was hard labor, but just a normal day in his miserable existence. He stood, supporting his weight on his pickaxe, as he took a futile swipe at his brow with the back of his hand, losing yet another battle in the war against the heat and pain. He glanced up at the unforgiving sun, the position of its pale-yellow glare telling him it was only mid-afternoon, but at least it had reached the zenith of the day's heat. Glancing down to the horizon, he spotted Syllia, their guard for the afternoon. Only fools still considered them protection from the local fauna, Syllia was more likely to injure them than protect them.

Syllia was dressed in light leather, supple, easy to move in, and easier to shed the day's heat. She was tall, much taller than Harrold, an obvious Elf-tinged human, and a warrior to boot, her longbow strapped to her back, sword at her hip, and a trio of daggers she casually juggled in the air before her as she heaved a heavy sigh of boredom. Her gaze drifted to his and he quickly averted his eyes back to his pickaxe, picking it up to resume the back-breaking work. He worked at the rock again, wedging the tip of his tool deep under a section of the rock he thought had shown movement. Rocking the pickaxe back and forth, the ground finally released its grasp, freeing the rock in a violent movement as he fell back on his ass in surprise.

"Are you okay?" Ronald's deep voice spoke low.

Harrold looked up at the hand the dwarf offered him. Ronald had joined their crew two tenday before, when the hapless gnome Gerald had been snagged by an ankheg their work had disturbed. Gerald wasn't alone, they had lost four others to the bites and claws of the beast, not to mention the three killed by its acid. Joan had been on "guard" duty that day and had promptly fled to find help. Thoughts of her so-called Warrior Talent, her ability to "protect" the crew made him chuckle.

"Stop fucking off!"

Ronald flinched at Syllia's yell, pulling back his proffered hand. "Not sure why you find any of this funny, Harrold."

Harrold slowly regained his footing unaided, snorting again. "Nothing about life is funny." He gave the dwarf a hard look. "We won't survive until that happens."

"They say those that work the best get rewarded."

Harrold laughed, a genuine laugh, deep from his belly. "You stupid fucking dwarf. You ever meet someone who was 'rewarded'? Ever hear of these supposedly blessed men ever returning from their 'reward'?"

Ronald bristled briefly, a rare sign of backbone. "Maybe their reward is getting away from the fields."

"Sure it is, straight to fighting the orcs, or the gnomes, or any of the other bastards we're at war with this tenday."

Ronald shrank into himself, a defeated man if Harrold ever saw one. There was little cause for Harrold to care or get close to the dwarf. He wouldn't last long with that temperament.

Instead, he looked back at Syllia, holding her angry gaze as he leaned down and lifted the heavy rock his efforts had freed. It was a decent rock, easily the largest they had found in the new field, between seven and eight stone. There was little chance Syllia had the strength to move something so large so easily, even with her Warrior Talent and training, and this time she averted her gaze from his show of strength. Strength was one of the few things an Untalented male had to offer, and he was stronger than most. From the corner of his eye, he caught Melissa surveying the fields from a distance, the captain of the guards always watching, always judging. She wouldn't have averted her gaze.

He chuckled to himself as he hoisted the rock onto his shoulder, making it easier to transfer it onto the waiting cart. There were few opportunities to upstage a woman, and this was probably going to be the highlight of his tenday. He idly wondered why anyone had decided a 'stone' should be the measure of weight—and which damned stone they'd used to set the standard. He had no idea how much he weighed, someone had once said they gauged him at twenty stone, but things like pounds and inches and feet were the domain of his betters. And considering he was an Untalented male, the only people lower than him were the non-human Untalented males. Like Ronald.

He once dreamed of having a Talent, being used for sex by whatever team of women he would be assigned to. Stories would reach the work crews about that life. Pampered males, beds, blankets, hot food, even beer and mead while being entertained by bards. And sex. Those thoughts were never far from his mind. As one of the largest in all the crews, the largest in his crew by far, it didn't take much to get his cock sucked whenever the urge built too strong. As timid as Ronald acted when he joined the crew, it wasn't long before Harrold had him on his knees, pumping his cum deep into the dwarf's throat as Ronald beat on Harrold's thighs, struggling desperately to get air. Harrold held his head in place until the dwarf passed out, enjoying the rush of power it gave him.

But what Harrold really wanted was to get his hands on one of their guards. Wanted to look down at some woman's pretty lips wrapped around his cock, eyes streaming tears as he pushed his full length into their throat, making it bulge with each stroke. To hold their throat is his hand, feeling that bulge with each thrust, letting them know he could snap that pretty neck at any point he wanted if they didn't obey. He wanted that power, craved it, dreamed of it. But it would never be. Still, the thoughts made him hard, the trapped cock straining against the leg fabric of his breeches.

He adjusted himself as Syllia once again watched him. He had seen all the men in the crews naked, there was no privacy afforded to any of them, and the rare opportunities to bathe were something one did not skip. He knew his cock was the equal of even the orc-tinged and there were few enough of those. Every time he stripped down the guards' eyes would follow him, his body a mass of muscle and hair, his beard and mustache an unruly bush, and despite the massive pad of pubic hair, his cock was too big to hide, constantly drawing the women's stares.

He wondered for the hundredth time what Syllia would look like naked. It was easy enough to imagine her before him, pleasuring him with her mouth, but he had never seen a woman's breasts. He figured they must be much like all the men, based on the wild tales he had overheard over the years, just... bigger. He found them tantalizing, especially when one of the women displayed their cleavage. The unknown globes of flesh peeking out, teasing his imagination. There were days he was sure he would fall to the temptation of grabbing a guard, maybe Julia, the pixie-touched who was less than half his size, and rip her clothes off so he could finally see what those forbidden treasures looked like.

All of them.

He had little doubt in his mind what their ass would look like. No one had said anything about them looking different than any man's ass or asshole, and everything functioned the same. It wasn't hard to imagine what fucking a woman in the ass would be like, just apparently less hairy. But a woman's pussy? That was the great unknown, the one thing Harrold would give every portion of his being to see. Tale after tale, most of them different, ran through his head as he wondered at what was between all those women's thighs.

"Get back to work!"

Syllia must have grown bored of watching him play around with his cock as he adjusted it to where it wasn't trapped. With a sigh, he went back to work.

The evening gruel was at least lukewarm—the day had been too hot for it to cool down and become a hard paste. Unfortunately, the little water they were given was lukewarm as well.

"Sorry," Harrold told the new elf-tinged as he took the remainder of the water from the frail man's cup. He had no idea what the new man's name was and didn't care, elves never lasted long on the crews. "I'll make it up to you later," he said with an ugly leer, trying to scare the young man. "I'll have something else for you to drink tonight."

The elf-tinged just grimaced, blushed, and turned his head away from Harrold. Harrold's daydreaming had his blood worked up and he knew he would need to get a release that night. He never met a man that could take his entire length without choking, tearing up, and begging for breath—not that he expected anyone could. But you never knew, maybe the slender new guy would prove him wrong. He licked a few stray drops of water as he continued to stare at the blushing man. "First time for everything."

Three days later, Harrold watched as the wyvern flew off, the elf-tinged mangled torso clutched in its talons. The elf's legs had already been devoured, and Harrold had to give the victim his due—he still lived enough to scream as the wyvern began snacking on his side mid-flight. The only other sound beyond the flapping wings was Julia's scream as she ran in the opposite direction, towards camp. The creature's jaws snapped through ribs and flesh like parchment, spraying blood against the pale sky. Harrold snorted, already bored with the entertainment, and resumed tilling the dirt, the crew's latest loss already forgotten. He never bothered learning his name and his mouth had proven unable to take all of Harrold's length. He had to admit though, it was impressive the elf could scream after as much abuse as had been inflicted on his throat.

They had finished clearing the field stone yesterday and were beginning the equally hard task of tilling the new field. The crews in the surrounding acres were still working through the field stone. A momentary sense of pride ran through Harrold at the idea of finishing their portion of the work first. Being first meant special privileges until they were moved to a new section of land. Some pieces of meat with the gruel, an extra half serving of water. Paradise.

The next day saw another attack, this time it was only a mass of goblins, easily fended off by the crews. The women weren't even forced to get involved and the men only suffered a few injuries. It made no sense, the goblin raid. There were almost two hundred men in the crews, plus the guards who were all Talented—mostly Warriors but at least one was a Mage. There was no way the goblins could have won—maybe desperate due to overpopulation or someone taking their lands. It didn't make sense. Even desperate goblins weren't this foolish. Divine knows hunger will make anyone do stupid stuff. It must be nice to have so many males available you could just throw them away in useless attacks.

Harrold surveyed the hills around them. The new fields were lining a series of ravines that sloped downward from a ridgeline that ran west from the city of Pfieton. He had never been to the city—and he never would—considering how the kingdom treated men in his position. Men with Talents were considered a rare and priceless resource, a view that was strengthened by how many women were born compared to men. When only one in four births produced a boy, and only one in five of them had a Talent, those few male Talents were squandered to ensure their safety, and their ability to impregnate the women who took responsibility for them. Other than their fucking duties, men had no rights in the kingdom, no say in how things went, so Harrold wasn't jealous of the primped little pansies in the cities. A gilded cage was still a cage.

The surrounding kingdoms and lesser clans were non-human, so they tended to be top heavy with men; the orcs and goblins never seem to run short of their men. Their neighbors ran things very differently than the humans, according to the rumors. If those whispered rumors were to be believed, the Kingdom of Tonstar, the closest human kingdom, had the same issue with the number of Talented men but for some reason they gave their men rights. On the rare, occasional lapse of judgement, Harrold contemplated escaping from the crews, running through the hills to the south, scaling the cliffs and making his way through the Eversleep until he reached the Starns, legendary fierce warriors who were in constant war with the Darkhunt orcs. A fantasy, one he would never dare act on.

"Harrold."

The female voice startled him, making him chuckle when he caught hold of his momentary fright. He turned to find himself confronted by the captain of their guard, Melissa. Her presence, especially as close as she was, slightly outside arm's reach, piqued his curiosity as much as his lust. She was a good-looking woman, not fully human, tinged with something he wasn't sure of—something stronger than pure human blood. She nearly met his height and was tall enough that her clear blue eyes met his without her having to look up. She also had huge breasts that her leather struggled to contain, a common focus of his fantasies, with a pretty face and plump lips framed by raven black locks. He might have worried about openly leering at her, but all of his crew and a few men from the surrounding ones had all paused their work to join the ogling.

"What can I do to you, Missus?"

Her pretty mouth quirked at his turn of phrase. "Your crew will easily be first done for this pasture. You are obviously the strongest of the crew." Her eyes told him she was sizing him up, gauging him for something. "What would you say to a little... extra reward for your efforts?"

Harrold's survival instincts kicked into gear as the hairs on his neck raised, his mind going back to the conversation about rewards he had with Ronald only days before. "What do you mean, Missus? Ain't ever heard tell of extra rewards."

"Well," Melissa smirked again, "anyone else that has gotten our 'extra reward' knows to keep their mouth shut, or there will be no more rewards. And I can assure you," she eyed Harrold again, more like he was a prized horse than a person. "You'll want this reward." Her cold and calculating demeanor had him doubting her promise of a reward would work in his favor.

True to her prediction, two days later Harrold's crew finished tilling the field by mid-afternoon. Only two other crews had managed to move on from clearing stones. It was going to be an easy tenday ahead, extra food, extra water, reduced work, and some ambiguous 'reward' awaiting him. He didn't consider what it might be... much. As rough as life was, there was no point of doing something as stupid as getting one's hopes up.

Harrold rested his weight on his hoe, curious if they would move his crew wholesale to a struggling acre or spread them out amongst the other crews. Ronald drew his attention. The dwarf was struggling to walk nearby as he carried some discarded tools to the supply tent. It took Harrold some moments to figure out why the dwarf was walking funny, the furtive glares Ronald gave an orc-tinged gave him enough of a clue.

Harrold called in a light voice, "You sit on something wrong, Ronald?"

The dwarf stiffened, which just exaggerated his abnormal posture even more. He mumbled something that Harrold couldn't hear but Harrold laughed none-the-less. "Wouldn't it have been easier to suck my cock than take a poleaxe up your ass? Cum willingly, and I can save you the stiff walk." Harrold roared his laughter when the dwarf's face turned crimson and he waddled off in shame, wondering if the dwarf heard his pun. Harrold had once tried out fucking someone in the ass, as he was told that others had done before him, but in the struggle, he had injured his unwilling victim. His lapse in judgement with taking someone out of the work crew for a couple tendays while their arm and ass recovered was punished severely. The women didn't care if someone passed out from lack of breath.

His crew was given the promised reward for finishing first, the meat was greasy and mostly fat, but it was more than everyone else was getting. Neither of Harrold's predictions held true. Instead of helping a single crew or spreading out, they replaced the crew that was doing the worst and spread the members of that crew across the others, replacing losses from attacks with them instead of bringing in more men. Another elf-tinged was the last that had joined a few days before. It was unusual—and unusual things always bothered Harrold, just like the troublesome reward. Nothing good would come from change.

They replaced another crew when they finished their second field, and by the end of their third, all the other crews had completed tilling theirs. Twenty acres of terraced fields waiting for planting. Harrold had to admit, it looked good, all the turned dirt layered flat against the sparsely forested hills behind it, the evening's sun just dipping to the horizon and both moons visible. He snorted in disgust. No use lollygagging while leering at the scenery. They might have a few days before they move to new pastures.

"Harrold, Melissa wants you at the main tent."

Syllia's closeness made him almost take a defensive swing. He was too lost in his head to hear her approach. She noticed his aborted movement and gave him a glare. "If you don't want to end up on the front lines, you better behave yourself."

Front lines. The thought troubled and excited him. Maybe the lack of crew replacement was because fighting had broken out somewhere and men weren't available for the crews. When things really heated up, like the last time Darkhunt sniffed at the kingdom, the crews were pulled off the fields completely. If their lives were going to be sacrificed to the kingdom, better to spend them on an enemy than lose them tilling fields.

"Does she want me now or later?"

Syllia took a glance to the sun, now halfway hidden in the darkening sky. "Eat first then go see her as soon as you finish. Don't fuck about. Go straight to her when you are done."

Harrold shrugged. "Fine. I'll be there." He trudged off to get in line for the evening gruel.

An hour later, he found himself standing outside the main tent, waiting for the last fifteen minutes after rushing through his food. "Hurry up and wait. Just like a woman." Harrold wasn't sure if this was his fortune turning or his luck finally running out. But either way, he would see it through.

"So, Harrold, do you think you are up for your reward?" Melissa's voice cut through the night, interrupting his thoughts.

"I'm missing a warm mouth for this, so yes, unless you know another mouth that will do?"

Melissa's eyes narrowed to slits. "There are two ways this can go, both good for us—" he held no delusion that 'us' included him, "and for the kingdom. But for you? That depends on your behavior. Or there's a third way—I kill you here and now."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Forgive me, Missus. I'll behave."

"Go out to the new fields. Straight there, nowhere else, and discuss this with no one. Go to the great oak we left standing and sit underneath it. This should be easy for someone like you to do correctly. Just sit there and wait for her." The 'her' gave him pause. It wouldn't be Melissa rewarding him. Syllia, maybe? Or one of the other guards—he thought back to the rumors whispered among the crews—of strange favors for strong men, and stranger disappearances.

And that was how Harrold found himself sitting with his back against the ancient oak tree, in the center of freshly tilled fields, staring at Phanos as it sped across the night sky on its second journey of the day. Bored out of his mind, he had no idea what time it was, but guessed it neared the witching hour. He kept nodding off for a few minutes at a time, leaving his internal time clock unreliable.

His eyes flicked open, a sense of unease descended upon him. Something had woken him up. Phanos had long since set, removing what little light it had provided while Phanos' smaller sibling Dumue offered no help, her small light nothing more than that offered by the brightest star.

He steeled his nerves, realizing just how vulnerable he was, but called out anyways, "Melissa?"

A childish, disembodied giggle answered him from the dark. He felt something move under his hand and recoiled, expecting a snake from the feel, but the movement stopped. A tentative finger poke discovered a vine. He nearly chuckled at how fraught his nerves were.

Having calmed himself, he called out with more confidence. "Syllia? Julia?" Another giggle floated in the air, this one from a different direction, raising his hackles once again. "Fucking divines, I'm not liking this game."

He moved to climb the tree, needing to provide himself some measure of protection by reducing avenues of attack. He made it a few feet up, into the bottommost and largest of the branches, when the giggle returned, directly above him. He recoiled, losing his balance and falling onto his back, knocking away his wind in the process. Just when he began to recover, something substantial dropped onto his chest, removing what little recovery he had gained.

"You are a large man," a feminine voice giggled.

Harrold quickly swung his arms up and clamped his hands onto whatever had landed on him. He wasn't gentle, but the shock of soft flesh made him pause.

"You are a man of violence, I see that now."

Harrold sat up, holding the woman—girl?—by her sides, her small frame perched on his lap. He could barely make her out in the dark and it dawned on him her arms were still free when she brought her hands up to rest on the front of his shoulders. She was small, easily fitting in his lap and weighed nothing compared to his strength. His confidence grew.

"Who are you, little girl?"

She giggled again before answering. Even though he held her, the giggle sounded like it surrounded them, quickly removing his confidence. "You may call me Dryope, and I am far from a little girl. I am far older than you. You may be large, but there is more than strength in this world."

"I could snap you in two right now, little girl, and there's nothing you can do to stop it." His blood was rising at the girl's mocking tone and some of the blood was rushing to other body parts.

Dryope squirmed in his grasp, but not as a struggle to get away. Instead, she gyrated her bottom against his crotch, teasing him. "Your words speak of anger, but your body says otherwise. Parts of your body speak of pleasures."

Harrold growled, not disputing her observation, just in annoyance at her continued mockery. Despite finally holding control over a woman, he was still being disregarded by her. He stood, retaining his hold on her, then crushed her against his chest, her feet dangling at his knees as he contemplated his next steps. Her body felt odd, some sort of obstruction was between them, pushing into his chest, until it dawned on him his hands still held naked flesh. He had not felt any cloth when he touched her. The pressure between them must be... "Are you clothed?" The sudden realization startled the question out of him, his voice incredulous.

"Would you like to see? Would you like to feel?"

Harrold swallowed the lump in his throat. "I have no fire."

A soft, unearthly glow settled in the air. Harrold gasped, blinking in disbelief as the faint illumination bathed their immediate surroundings and the base of the oak in a dim light. In shock, he dropped the girl. Magic was dangerous, something he was ill equipped to deal with, and his fear once again took hold. But then his gaze was drawn back to the girl.

Her skin was various shades of brown, not unlike the tree beside them, with darker lines of skin running the length of her body much like the dark lines in bark. Her eyes were amber globes, the color of acorns, matching the color of her hair, an unruly bush intertwined with small branches and leaves, as if she had fallen through every portion of the tree on her way down. Her face was beautiful; it held his stare for what seemed like hours as her gaze locked with his. It was only when she smiled that the spell was broken and his gaze wandered lower.

She really was naked, her proud breasts on full display to him. He wanted nothing more than to reach forward and grasp them, squeeze them, see how much of his imagination conformed to reality. But something held him in place, a stronger will than his own. His eyes continued to wander lower until he found her crotch, covered in the same acorn colored hair as her head, just as unruly, nestled at the junction of two shapely thighs. His brain locked up, his body unsure of what to do next. Something in him wanted to stop. He wanted to run. But his body disobeyed.

"Would you like to touch me, big man?"

The words snapped his vision back to her eyes and he stupidly nodded his head vigorously, like an eager child. Her confident steps brought her within his range, but still he could not bring himself to reach out, straining against whatever irrational force contained his will.

"Just one hand."

His right hand shot forward, ready to grab hold when his hand stopped on its own, an inch short. "Gently now. We don't need to hurt anyone now."

Slowly his hand closed the remaining gap to smoothly cup her breast. It felt... amazing. He never imagined skin could feel so soft. He had never felt anything that compared to the softness of her skin. He ran his fingertips over her shape, exploring the sensation. Her nipples themselves were much larger than his even though her body was half his size, a dark brown in color, diamond hard, surrounded by large areolas that were dimpled with bumps that held his focus. At his gentle treatment, he found he could raise his second hand to give her other breast equal treatment. A goofy grin consumed his face as he became more engrossed in what he was doing, eventually tweaking the nipples to see what would happen.

His hands shot to his sides on their own accord when he twisted her nipples, as if an invisible force slapped his hands away, and a frown replaced her smile. He found himself regretting her displeasure, wracking his brains for what he could do to improve her spirits and redeem himself.

"That was unkind, large man."

"Harrold."

Her frown lessened, but did not completely go away. "What was that?"

"My name is Harrold, not Large Man."

"Well met, Harrold." Her gaze roamed his body. "I feel like I am at a disadvantage. Perhaps we can even the field. Why don't you remove your clothing, Harrold?"

Her suggestion was suddenly the best idea in the world, and he ended up ripping most of his clothing to shreds in his desire to satisfy her request.

"That's better, Harrold. I see I have a lot to work with here. This pleases me."

He beamed a smile at her.

"But still," her frown deepened once more, sending fresh pangs of regret through him. "You did harm me. My nipples are very sensitive. I think they deserve a kiss to make them feel better, don't you agree?"

He could only nod his head in response.

She arched her back, pushing her chest up and out, raising her breasts as high as she could. "You should kneel so it will be easier for you. I'm afraid I'm not as large as you."

He did as commanded, finding it odd he followed so willingly, but still, there were breasts in front of him, and a woman demanding his attention. His lips touched one, softly, then the other. "I think you need a better kiss, Harrold. A light one won't do. Haven't you ever kissed with your tongue?"

He shook his head. "No, I've never kissed anyone or anything. I should use my tongue?"

She nodded. "Yes, keep your mouth on them when you kiss. Suck on them a little and brush your tongue across the tip trapped by your lips. Let me show you..."

She swiftly knelt in front of him and darted her head to his own chest, trapping one of his nipples to demonstrate what she wanted. The sensation drove him wild, making his already hard cock strain. When it did, he realized it was brushing against her stomach, trapped between them. How he wanted to force her head down, see how far he could make her neck bulge before her body forced him to stop.

"Now, now, Harrold. Let's not get carried away. You still owe my tits a kiss."

She stood, regaining her position, and he once again kissed her nipples, mimicking what she had done to him. She sighed and closed her eyes briefly, seemingly lost in the sensations. Whatever clamp down on his will loosened, and his hand began to roam her body, passing over her ass cheeks, which also felt amazingly soft. He dug his fingers in as he scooped his hands further, but when his finger brushed over her tight little sphincter, they encountered something else shortly after. It was soft and wet and once again incredibly soft even with the amount of hair in the way.

He broke his mouth away from the nipple he was working on, amazed at what he had found as he grabbed hold with more strength than he intended.

"Ow, Harrold." The frown grew worse, moving into shades of anger as her focus snapped back to him. "You hurt me again, only this time somewhere much more sensitive. You owe me more kisses."

Harrold regarded her with a confused look, brows furrowed. "What?" On one hand, he was enjoying how the encounter was going, a sense of power over a woman swimming in his head, but deep down, his fight-or-flight response was fighting to be heard.

She pushed away from him, and he released his hold, surprising himself. Once out of his reach, she twirled, flashing a shapely ass as she did. He reached forward, trying to grab hold of the lithe figure before him, but once again, his body wouldn't answer his desires. His anger tried to rise, to fight against whatever kept his will at bay, and for the first time in many years, he felt real, raw fear.

"Now, now, we can't have that, can we?" Her frown turned into a small, dimpled smile at her words, which confused him even more. "Can't have what?" His confusion and doubt evaporated when she lay down before him, propping her upper body up on her elbows, and slowly spreading her legs. And there it was, hidden within the mass of her hair, a hidden cleft. The barely visible slit upon her groin held his attention, flushing all other thoughts away.

"I see I have your full attention again, Harrold. That is good, for I need you to remove the pain you gave me with your kisses." She shifted her weight to one elbow and moved the other hand to her pussy, using two fingers to spread the skin apart, revealing a span of pink flesh between the brownish folds that had lined the slit. And nestled within that pink expanse of flesh was an entry, and suddenly Harrold understood what sex with a woman entailed. Still on his knees, he knelt forward onto his hands and began crawling to the only thing his eyes could see. Until his body made him stop.

"Now, Harrold, we're going to be nice and gentle again. Aren't we?" Again the giggle. "I just need you to kiss me here, where your brutish fingers hurt me. Kiss me and make the pain go away."

His will his own once again, he crawled the rest of the way, his head lowered until his cheeks touched her inner thighs. She smelled sweet, of tree sap, and a milky juice was leaking out of her hole, slightly amber just like sap. He took a moment to inhale her scent, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the aroma. It was an odd thing for him to do, the object of so many of his fantasies mere inches from his face yet he closed his eyes to enjoy the fragrance? "What the fuck is wrong with me?" With an internal growl he shook his mental thoughts, opened his eyes, and pursed his lips, moving closer, until he gave her a tender kiss.

The pink flesh was silky smooth on his lips. As soft as the breasts but in a very different way. His lips came away with the taste of sap, a well-known flavor after clearing so many trees by hand. She giggled, pleased with him, so he kissed her again... and again.

"So, you like the taste? Try giving me a lick instead."

It was an odd request, and deep down he wanted to do so many different things to her, but once again his body betrayed his desires and he began to lick, lapping at the sap-like substance that coated her, probing his tongue into her hole to reach more of it. She squirmed as he licked, laying back fully. She kept the one hand holding open her slit but used the other hand to grab onto his hair, twining her fingers in his locks to guide his head. He somehow instinctively knew she liked full licks, from bottom to top, and really enjoyed when he circled his tongue around a small, fleshy knob before lowering his mouth for another lick. Her breathing grew excited, her breaths taken in shallow gasps, and the sound, his proximity to her sex, and the moans she was making drew something primordial out of him.

With a growl, he reared himself up on his knees and pushed his body forward to collapse fully on the girl, trapping her under his weight. His hips bucked on their own accord, and after a few thrusts, his cock found its target, lodging itself within her body. It was pure ecstasy. He had never felt anything that matched, no mouth, no asshole, no hand, nothing matched the sensation he experienced as he mindlessly began thrusting into the girl, reveling in his pleasure.

Dryope screamed at first, probably in pain, for while Dryope was a small woman, Harrold was no small man, and his tool was probably as thick as her wrist. But he cared nothing for her pain, or her cries. He was finally doing it, having sex, with a woman, and that thought alone was enough to make him spill his seed. When his release started, he stretched his back and hips, impaling himself as far into her frail body as he could, still pinning her to the ground.

He lay on top of her after, spent, a small shudder shaking through his body. He didn't pull out of her, and when she finally moved, pushing at him to get away, he realized he was still hard, a steel rod embedded within her. He began to move his hips again but stopped when he heard a sob from the girl.

"You were supposed to be gentle, Harrold. You need to make it up to me."

The respite allowed whatever freedom of will he had found to once again elude him. He removed his weight from her body, releasing her, as he got back on his knees, his body once again moving without his consent.

"That should have been pleasurable for both of us, but once again, you were naughty. Now, we're going to try this again, but this time I need some assurances. Please move to the trunk, sit as you are, and turn to face me."

He found his body once again obeying her, as he clambered on hands and knees to cross the couple yards to the giant oak, turning his body around, and sitting on his knees again, the bark biting into his back.

"That's a good boy." Her words pleased him, but his mood quickly shifted as several vines slithered from around the tree to wrap around his wrists, pulling his hands back to his sides. His struggle began when the vines first touched his flesh, but it was a fight quickly lost. He tried to rise but stopped, halfway risen, when something soft, warm and moist wrapped itself around the head of his cock. He looked down to find Dryope suckling him, running her tongue over the sensitive tip as she looked up at him. The sensation distracted him, and he allowed the vines to pull him back down to his knees as he watched the girl suck him in further.

"There's a good boy," she said as she released him from her mouth. "Now, let's try this again, only my way this time."

She climbed onto his lap, straddled him, and slowly lowered herself onto his straining cock. He watched, mesmerized, as inch after inch vanished into her. He didn't understand how it fit, the dimensions seemed wrong in his head. The thought made him again consider how his wrists were trapped by the vines, now fully secured. He realized with a start that vines now encircled his thighs and shins, holding his legs in place as Dryope began to gyrate her hips before beginning a steady rhythm, riding up and down along his length. The pleasure addled his brain, and she soon began to moan as she had before, her movements increasing in speed until she held her head back and let out a silent scream as her body convulsed.

The pressure on his will vanished, and his instincts screamed at him, and that nagging fear in the back of his head blossomed into panic. He fought his bindings, unable to work his arms or legs free as he thrashed within his bonds. Dryope's laughter focused his wild thoughts back on her as she began hopping up and down again, trying to match his thrashing movements.

"Oooo... You're going to give me a wild ride next? How lovely that will be. How long can you last?"

A vine wrapped itself around his neck, pulling him fully against the tree. His struggles made the rough bark dig into his back, but his fear overrode his pain, and his struggles intensified.

"That's it, just like that!" Her laughter and taunting carried into the night air.

"I don't understand. His clothes are here, in tatters, but there's no blood. No sign of a struggle. What do you think got him?"

Ronald looked over at an elf-tinged man as he turned over the remains of Harrold's shirt in his hands.

"Something's not right here," the other answered back. "It's best we leave it to the women."

Ronald snorted, "Like the women give a fuck about what happens to us. Do you think maybe he ripped them like this to make it look like an attack and ran away?"

"I thought you hated him."

Ronald shuddered. "I do. But as long as he claimed me, he only used my mouth. Others will not be as kind."

The elf shuddered at his remarks. "Kind. Funny way of looking at it." He looked around them instead of focusing on the clothes. "Did you notice that there's some sprouts in the field already? We only planted yesterday. And this oak. I know it was not this large. You see that rock sitting on that root?" He pointed, directing where Ronald should be looking. "That was a full foot away from the tree. I know, because I put it there to hide something I buried."

"Maybe something dug it up and moved it. Fuck, here comes one of them."

"What the fuck are you two doing? Sucking each other's dicks under the tree? Going to run off to Tonstar and get bonded?"

Ronald flinched at Melissa's harsh tone. "No, Missus. Sorry, Missus. We just... we found Harrold's clothing and he's not in the camp."

"Leave me."

The anger in her voice made both men flinch as they groveled for forgiveness then scampered away.

"Fucking useless men." Melissa's gaze travelled back and forth between the pile of torn clothing and the giant oak, considering.

"Any sign of him?" Syllia joined Melissa as she poked the clothing with the toe of her boot.

"Nope." Melissa shook her head to emphasize her answer. "He must have misbehaved himself."

"Pity," Syllia answered. "He was a strong back in the fields." Her gaze swept across the new fields. "At least he didn't go to waste. Looks like these will be productive fields."

Melissa snorted a laugh. "Fucking men."

Syllia joined her laughter as the two headed back to camp. "Useless men. I could use a beer."