Fortune Teller 1

The ball was made of clear crystal and was a perfect sphere, some nine inches in diameter, its surface reflecting the faces of the four women who sat huddled around it. Two of the women were blondes, their hair dangling in sun-bleached tresses down their backs, their blue eyes twinkling as they peered excitedly at the glass ball. Their companion, a sleek brunette, seemed somewhat less interested, her mouth opening in a wide yawn as she looked across the table. There, sitting directly opposite in a richly-carved chair, sat a silver-haired woman of advanced years, her purple silk robe wrapped tightly around her bony shoulders.

"Well, Morgantha," said the brunette. "What murky deeds do your old eyes see in the glass?"

"Patience, Sharmoon!" the elderly woman replied. "Have patience, for the gods of fate do not hurry about their task."

The brunette yawned again, shifting position and making her chair creak. "I need a drink," she said, poking the smaller of the two blondes. "Come on, Keelam! Let's go back to the tavern."

Both blondes grunted their disapproval at the interruption, the taller one putting a long finger to her lips.

"Hush, Sharmoon," she said softly. "Be patient. Give Morgantha time to perceive Keelam's destiny. Did you not know that fortune-telling is a sacred and serious profession, worthy of our humble respect?"

The old woman muttered quietly, mumbling incoherently at first, though her voice gradually became more audible. The smaller blonde leaned forward eagerly, hunching in her chair, trying to hear every garbled word. The sword dangling from her belt scraped the floor near her feet.

"Speak up, Morgantha, for fuck's sake!" she hissed.

Morgantha raised her hand and coughed, clearing her throat. "Patience, Keelam," she said solemnly. "Listen now to the tale of your future, as decreed by the gods of fate and fortune. Be assured that the ball of magic crystal does not lie to those of honest heart."

"I'm listening," said Keelam. "Can I ask something now, please?"

"Ask whatever you wish," Morgantha continued. "Your three questions shall be swiftly answered, by the gods of fate speaking through my throat."

Keelam inhaled deeply, her large bosom swelling beneath her buckskin dress. "Here's my first query," she ventured. "What are the chances of my hot pink tongue probing Captain Rana's cunt tonight?"

"You can't ask that kind of question," said Sharmoon, flicking a tress of dark hair out of her eyes. "Such crudeness might arouse the wrath of the gods and bring evil fortune upon your ale-soaked head."

"Not so," said Morgantha. "The ball of crystal is not afraid of lewd words, nor will it refuse to transmit Keelam's request to the mighty gods, who readily acknowledge her awesome prowess on the battlefield. The gods love a fine warrior woman and are happy to reveal their prophecies to her. See, my friends! See how the ball gleams like a lantern!"

"It doesn't look any different," Sharmoon observed. "But what do the gods say?"

"They bring good tidings," Morgantha resumed. "To Keelam they give this prophecy: your bed shall soon be warmed by the body of Captain Rana, who secretly desires you as much as you openly desire her. And, yes, your lips and tongue shall indeed become acquainted with her sweet orifices."

"Orifices?" said Keelam. "You mean I get to lick Rana's juicy asshole as well as her gorgeous cunt?"

Morgantha nodded. "The gods decree that this beautiful lady whom you so desire will make every opening of her body available to your lust. More than this, she will reciprocate by licking every inch of your most intimate flesh, nor will she tire of doing it. Even now, while we four sit here in my house, Rana sits in the tavern across the street, her mind teased by thoughts of you, Keelam, and of what she intends to do with you tonight."

The taller blonde playfully slapped Keelam's shoulder. "Good news, little Kee-Kee!"

Keelam nodded, her mouth broadening in a satisfied smile. "Very good news, Chekhu. But how will my second question fare, I wonder?"

"Ask it," said Morgantha.

Keelam took another deep breath. "I beseech the gods to tell me if the forthcoming year will bring any strange encounters along my path."

The fortune-teller looked puzzled, until Sharmoon explained the esoteric words.

"What Kee-Kee means," said the brunette," is this: will she taste the delights of any exotic creatures, such as elves or orcs or dwarves, between now and Midwinter's Day?"

Morgantha shook her head, tapping the crystal ball with her wizened fingers. "No elves," she answered. "Nor dwarves. But I see an orc crawling into your bed, Keelam, a skinny young female of that savage race. Like you, she is a warrior of great skill and ferocity. Long yellow teeth I see, and sharp claws, and a shaggy mop of unwashed black hair. The orc girl's breasts are small, the dark nipples bearing rings of gold through the teats, while another ring twinkles between the shaven lips of the creature's tight little vagina. This ring pierces her clitoris, but she wears it with great pride."

Keelam sat up, rubbing her hands gleefully. "An orc girl in my bed? That is a rare event indeed, though it guarantees my body a night of exceedingly rough passion. When did an orc bitch last run her slavering fangs over my quivering breasts? Two years ago, perhaps?"

"Three," said Sharmoon. "Three years ago, after the siege of Castle Reefa."

Keelam nodded, musing on pleasant memories. "Yes, I remember that sensual night, though my ass recalls the painful morning more clearly. My poor rear passage endured many delicious hours of energetic probing by strong goblin-fingers and a long dark tongue."

"Your third question?" Morgantha prompted.

"A test," Keelam replied. "A test of the accuracy of your fortune-telling. A question relating to the past rather than to the future, if you are willing to accept such a challenge. Are you willing?"

The old woman nodded. "I am willing, though perhaps the gods are not. They do not welcome such impertinence from mere mortals, even if the request comes from a famous warrior."

"Then the gods are surely cowards," said Sharmoon.

"Ask the third question," Morgantha whispered, ignoring Sharmoon while frowning darkly at Keelam. The latter responded with a curling smile and a mischievous wink.

"Here is the test," she said. "Ask the gods to describe in detail the woman who taught me the true art of love when she and I were innocent teenagers."

Morgantha sighed, bending her neck to stoop low over the ball. "I see a very beautiful girl," she began slowly. "A girl whose skin is the colour of black olives and whose hair is a mane of shadowy curls. The scene is ten years ago, I think. She is eighteen years old, a stranger in these lands, the exiled princess of a faraway kingdom. Her waist is very narrow, her hips are slim, her buttocks smooth and rounded, her breasts an image of youthful perfection. No hair shows at her crotch, for her mound is shaved to smoothness, the naked slit glistening with moisture. She stands in a field of grass, her chest heaving breathlessly, her sleek dark body trembling with desire. Hands of a paler hue than her own roam slowly over every curve of her supple form, the fingers caressing intimately, long red fingernails gently scratching her black skin."

"Those are my hands!" said Keelam, her eyes widening in amazement. "This tale is true in every exquisite detail!"

"Don't stop, Morgantha," said Chekhu, running a hand through her blonde hair. "This is making me so hot!"

But the old woman sat back suddenly, covering the crystal ball with a blue cloth. "That is all," she said. "The crystal ball does not choose to reveal more than this, not even to the most renowned trio of warrior women in the Heartland. The gods of fate have passed the test, I think, and answered the third question adequately."

"More than adequately," Keelam replied. "I am immensely impressed, for I feared that you might be an imposter or charlatan. Instead, dear lady, you are an oracle of great power."

Morgantha shrugged. "I am merely a vessel of the gods."

Keelam and her friends rose to their feet, praising the fortune-teller's skill and placing coins in the bronze bowl that she waved beneath their noses.

"Thank you," she said, counting the money. "And farewell, until we meet again."

The three visitors walked to the door and opened it, briefly sniffing the evening air before vanishing into the dark deserted street. Keelam was the last to leave, giving a final parting wave to Morgantha, who returned the gesture with a smile.

"Sleep peacefully tonight," said the old woman.

"I don't intend to sleep at all!" said the little blonde, grinning as she closed the door behind her.

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(Author's Note: Thank you for reading this story. If you enjoyed it, please give it your vote. Trisha xxx)