I of Saddle

Chapter 4 - I of Saddle

"By decree of Her Majesty Queen Amaline Ácaron, all able fighters are called to arms! Those necessary on the homefront shall remain in registered service to the war effort. This is a fight both for survival and honour! To arms, Acylings!"

The soldier finishes speaking and Beorg watches as he steps back to wait for the conscripts to fall in formation. Beorg studies his jaw, his voice, wondering if the man under the mask is one she has lain with. He doesn't sound familiar. But then, he isn't moaning with orgasm.

Beorg's head is spinning and her heart skipping beats as she joins the registration queue. War. Real war. It didn't feel real. Doesn't. Everything is the same.

But everything is different. The air feels tense and sober.

'I am drinking an entire pot of abbess cane and catnip after this.' Beorg cheers herself with placing the immediate path before her.

Brace. Catch my breath. Relax and recover. Make a plan. Survive.

Her turn in line comes up. Like the rest of the soldiers, the guard and scribe taking her information wear iron helms decorated with silver raven and boar motifs across the stylised brows and guarded cheeks, leaving only their jaws visible. Beorg eyes them stoicly as she answers their questions.

Beorg-Silge Amáleðardaughter.

Twenty nine years of age.

Occupation: apothecary (Selferley Riding of Lundsoerna Faran of the Acylings).

Affiliations: parents? None. Siblings? None. Spouse? None. Owner or lord? None. Reference? Ceara Weornsdaughter of the Wick's Riding.

"Not even a boyfriend?"

"..."

"A suitor, or...maybe a cousin or something?"

"I am unattached."

The soldier's grin spreads across his wideset jaw.

"Churl Weargor, stop hitting on the hot ones and act noble!"

"No offense, miss." The soldier tips his brow to her politely, as though the description could be construed as an insult.

"Has that line

ever

worked for you, soldier?

"Huh. I guess not. I never really thought about it."

"Do you want it to?"

"Huh?"

"Would you like asking about my boyfriend to lead to me going out behind the alley and polishing your spear?"

"Um. I suppose that was the goal."

"Let's do it, Folk-Shield. I'll take your mind off your troubles."

The other soldiers are easily within earshot and all dumbfounded by Beorg's bold proposition. They exchange perplexed glances, then the captain speaks up.

"You have a break coming up."

"Understood." With a nod, Weargor hands his registry to a nearby replacement, relinquishes his badge to his captain, and steps down onto the street.

"So just...?"

Beorg smiles and takes him by the hand. She leads him to a nearby alleyway, only a few blocks over from that of a few hours ago. Still in his guard outfit, the dim light sees him stumble a little. He is surprised when the next touch he feels is Beorg's gentle hand upon his trousers.

"Hu- whoa! Miss, so forward?"

"Were you not just seeking my hand upon your ash-staff just a moment ago? Have you given up so swiftly?"

"I never thought of that before either."

"Fair fortune then that you've found favour with a friend who frays for your head...down here." She speaks with a smile as she pulls Weargor's cock from his pants.

Before he expects that, either, Beorg places her mouth over the rapidly hardening tip and begins to suck. After only a couple strokes, she is throating him to the root.

"Oh! Gods! Fuck!" The soldier whispers, though none too quietly as he at least notionally attempts to be discreet. Beorg's head bobs faster and harder. Wetter and sloppier, as she goes out to just her lips, then the tip penetrating sensuously back through her lips and to the top of her throat. Mucus, spit, and precum cover the erect cock, now turgid red.

Reaching into her skirts, Beorg retrieves a tin of salve. Weargor watches, curious but too flustered to ask, as Beorg extracts some of the shining ointment and begins to massage it into his penis.

Then, as the warming sensation begins to take effect and his already flagrant erection becomes further engorged, Weargor watches as Beorg turns, lifts her skirts, and presents her ass to him.

As she positions with legs spread for stability, leaning against some stacked crates in the alley, Beorg places a hand on either side and spreads. Her fingers creep closer to her sensuous puckered rose as she pulls her cheeks apart with one hand and a wrist, rubs the remaining ointment on her clitoris with the other.

Weargor approaches with his helmet on, trousers around his ankles, and begins to align himself to penetrate Beorg's wet and full vagina. As Beorg feels him brush and begin to push into her, she quickly leans forward and moves a hand in front of herself.

"No. I will give you a blowjob and deepthroat you. I'll swallow your load. I'll take you into my supple star and make you cum inside me. Please do not touch my pussy."

"Um. Okay. I've never done it in a woman's pore before."

"Most men find it is to their liking. Now, slip your spear into my belly and stick my innards, liege. Fill my gut with your quicksilver. Make me gush with your clam-split then fill me with pearls."

Beorg shakes her ass at the soldier as she speaks, encroaching back toward the well-lubed tip. The stimulation of her dirty talk has him baffled for long enough that what stirs him back is Beorg's pliant ring slowly stretching around him as she backs onto his inflamed cock.

She moans as she begins to slowly grind and gyrate after a moment of acclimating once he had bottomed out. Weargor looks at Beorg's stretched and shapely anus with an arousal he is experiencing for the first time. It feels different from pussy, but no less pleasurable or gratifying. Rings of muscle and textured walls of flesh squeeze and rub against Weargor as Beorg begins to rock back and forth on him.

For Beorg, the pleasure quickly changes as it begins with that of being stretched and penetrated, then moves to the growing rampant passion of lover's balm of the burning mountain, seeping into her tissue.

Slowly the balm works in as she bounces on and off, on and off the growing erection. She can feel the raising veins on Weargor's cock as she backs up on him and grinds. Beorg's pussy flows with grool as jolt after jolt of stimulus runs through her fornices and g-spot from behind. As it takes effect, Beorg feels her anal ring begin to plump, wax more erogenous. She feels her fornix throb and pulse with every thrust.

As Weargor returns to present, he places hands on Beorg's shapely hips and begins to thrust. Beorg slows to a halt as she allows her partner to do the work. As he increases force and pace, finding a solid rhythm, Beorg's moaning increases. She rubs her clit in time with the thrusting, face against her arm, leaning on a crate.

"Oh. Ohhhhh. Ooooooooohhhhhhh." Beorg's orgasm builds, approaches, and arrives as Weargor thrusts into her. Both of their organs have become plump, inflamed, juicy. Weargor's glistening, veiny cock slides in and out, in and out against the supple, delicate ring stretched around him. Though delicate, it is not thin, as contact with the salve has engorged Beorg's ass erotically.

As she arrives, Beorg's empty pussy sprays the alley flagstones with her fluids. She covers her mouth to keep from screaming as she comes.

Feeling her muscles contract around him and squeeze his cock invitingly, Weargor grunts and releases. Spurt after spurt of hot cum erupts inside Beorg. As she feels the sensation of being cum inside, she shudders and herself comes a second time, her fluids running down her legs.

"Thank you, Son of Aca." Beorg purrs in the afterglow, breathy, glowing.

"How was it? Your first time in a woman's ass."

Breathing heavy, eyes vacant, the soldier is still focused on Beorg's plump and supply ring pulsing around the girth of his cock bottomed out in her.

"It...was

good.

Fuck."

Beorg purrs her pleasure once more, rocking her ass on him just a little. The soldier realises he is still hard inside her, with no diminishment. After a moment just pressed together in post orgasmic bliss, Weargor begins once more. Slowly at first, tentatively. Where had his refractory period gone? Then faster, harder, earnestly.

Beorg's moans fill the alley as she jills while she is fucked. The soldier grunts and growls as he pounds into her, now enraptured and oblivious but for the rampant pleasure of Beorg's hot, throbbing butt.

"Ahem..."

The two of them look behind them, so engrossed in fucking that they neither care to stop, not even to stop moaning and panting.

"Churl Weargor, your uh, break time is over."

"Nnnnggggg." Weargor acknowledges his comrade's notice, and continues pounding into Beorg.

"Guess I'll just. Uh..." The woman's voice trails off as she turns and shuffles back toward her post.

"Mmmmmm. You'd better go soon. I don't want our boys in iron getting in trouble on my account."

The soldier grunts again, increasing his pace.

"Mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmmm uhhhhh ahhhh ahhhh ahhhh!" Beorg moans and cries out, no longer trying to mute her pleasure as his pace increases. The soldier's groans join her as they fuck in the alley.

The salve of the burning mountain has ignited a fire in them both, to burn bright their lust and be inflamed. Buried within the proper, dignified apothecary's stretched ass. Her ring is engorged, engulfing the turgid cock like plump lips wrapped around it. The moisture of Beorg's pussy is evident on Weargor's balls. Affected by the salve from within to without, Beorg's clit is swollen too, the sensitive bud standing at its own full mast, twitching with arousal in time with the twitches in her anus.

Weargor's towering erection is the hardest he can remember being. He feels his gorged veins pressing and rubbing the contours of Beorg's sensuous hole. His cock's enlarged helm, pressing against her tender inside. Beorg howls as he pounds at her and massages her g-spot to another orgasm.

With a final thrust, Weargor unleashes his spear once more in the healing maiden's supple rear, filling her quivering ass with his cum. The two stand there for a long minute, panting, before finally, Weargor pulls out.

"I could ride a woman this way again."

"How about this mare's way, rider? If you would saddle me up again, you have my address. I'll be doing my duty to the homefront war effort. Come see me if you wish me to do you, too."

Beorg folds her handkerchief after wiping off and reaches into the pouch at her belt, skirts still up and hole gaping. As cum begins to spill out of her open anus, from her pouch Beorg extracts an object unknown to Weargor. Like a metallic bulb, with a button or knob attached to a stem upon the bulb. Beorg smoothly and expertly inserts the buttplug, her weary orifice easily stretching to accommodate it. When her stretching anus closes around the stem of the plug, Beorg shudders a little, then wiggles her ass seductively.

"Like what you see, rider?"

"I never knew of such a thing."

"It is not to my liking to leak cum from my hole all the way back to the office."

"Does that thing really keep it from leaking?"

"Not really. But a little, and what's more, it is pleasing."

"..."

"So I..."

"So you'd better go. I am but another maiden in the throng. I've done my service here, now will you go back out there and do yours?"

Weargor hesitates a moment, his tall erection subsiding slowly.

"Aye miss." He nods a little salute, and she warmly smiles back. Like an old friend, and a temptress at once.

"Be on your way then, brave rider. I hope when next thrice you cum, it's to thinking on me."

"Fuck. I...good day Beorg. Thank you."

And off Weargor goes, into the street. Beorg wiggles her ass again, for no benefit other than her own, enjoying the sensation of the plug.

I am going to drink so much abbess cane.

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