Ethedra sank down onto the now empty sarcophagus.
This is what I get for coming out with only a mercenary.
She could feel her armor was half ripped off, and yet still could hear the weird howls off in the distance of the demons and their masters.
"Lady, have you healed?" Markullah asked. He was little better. His chain armor was ripped in a dozen spots. She'd been hiding behind him, freezing monsters with her ice spells.
"Yes, I'm just catching my breath." He was close behind her. She looked up.
Oh, goddess, why did I hire such a good looking son of a bitch?
He was tall and wide and dark haired like all the desert tribesman. His face was tanned and scarred from his battles. His hand on her shoulder was warm and hard.
Wait.
She looked at the shoulder. His un-gauntleted hand was resting on her skin.
"Good." He leaned closer. She could feel his breath on her cheek.
"This is a bad place for flirting, Markullah." She said.
Oh no, you ignored me in town, you son of a bitch. Three staircases down a tomb is no place to be trying this!
"I'm not flirting." He unbuckled her shoulder armor and eased it down over her shoulders to her waist. He lightly brushed his hands over her breasts. She could feel his heat through her tunic.
Ethedra gasped. His hands were undoing her arming belt as well. "We could go back…"
"No." He'd never defied her before. "I just killed twenty demons for you. You will be mine, if only once."
She knew she could kill him. But then the mercenary captain would never let her hire another man. "The demons are just on the other side of those doors!"
"Yes." He growled. Her armor fell to the floor of the tomb. "Oh, you gorgeous witch." His hands pulled up her arming tunic and tossed it aside too. "You haven't burned me yet."
Ethedra shivered at his hands on her breasts. "N-no."
He laughed. Turned her to face him and kissed her hard. One hand went boldly between her legs. "I see." His hand was wet with her own juices, rubbed hard on her pleasure flesh. The other held her against him for a kiss. She let him push his tongue into her mouth, tangling with hers, tasting a little blood, leftover rage from the battle.
Oh this is stupid.
She bucked against his hand.
But right now I don't care if Baal comes through that door, I want to feel him!
He rubbed her hard, until she was gasping and moaning in a low voice. His dark eyes burned into her in the witch light. "Witches love a good spear man."
"But are you?" she let him lay her back on the cold stone.
He unfastened his own belt and his manhood sprang erect. "Find out!" He pulled her hips to the edge of the sarcophagus lid. "You're tiny. I don't want to squash you." He spread her legs wide. Teased her with it.
"Now, damn it!"
"As you order." He pushed hard into her.
He's bigger than my temple lovers.
She shut her eyes for a moment, pain mixing with the pleasure.
"You're no priestess." He pounded into her hard, as if he was hurrying. "No virgin."
"No witch is a virgin." She gasped. Her back was grinding against the cold rough stone. His flesh was hot, sweaty and smeared here and there with blood. She knew she wasn't any cleaner. She tried to wrap her legs around him. He grabbed them and forced them over his shoulders. Ethedra shuddered and moaned her pleasure. The pain had faded away, or mixed into the pleasure thoroughly.
He pulled out of her. "Say you serve me."
"No!" she gasped. "I do not!"
"Say it!" he teased her with his manhood around the edges of her sensitive flesh. Torture would have been easier to bear. "Once in my life, I will rule."
The echoes of pleasure were maddening. "Oh goddess! I serve you!"
He plunged into her with a shout. Lost himself in a few more hard thrusts. She shuddered with him, screaming her own pleasure.
"Now, you serve me." He straightened up.
"Very cute. I don't think so." She lowered her legs.
"By your blood, word and pleasure, you are mine." He said softly. His eyes glowed with power for a moment.