*Author Notes: Please feel free to leave comments below and tell me what you think! I have three different couples in this story, and would like to know what you all think about the story so far. I would really appreciate the feedback!
^_^
DeArmound and the Sage
DeArmound was trapped inside a world of darkness; a place of never ending silence, where light never descended, and where no other dared venture. He somehow knew that his violent death had trapped him here. Deep inside, where the insanity had yet to claim him, he could still feel the confusion and betrayal of his soul; which bound him to this place like chains cast up from the blackest depths of hell.
He knew that a part of his soul was no longer his own. The darkness had begun to seep inside, filling his degrading mind with thoughts of madness and torment. It was a dark voice that was no longer that different from his own. Maybe they were one in the same. He no longer knew.
Escape was something he no longer fantasized about; for that frivolous dream had been crushed under the weight of a seemingly endless time. Yet still he waited. The darkness often whispered to him, "They will come for you." This may be his insanity trying to toy with his last threads of stability, or it could be the last breath that kept him from drowning.
Either way, he waited.
Then he felt it. A tug, something unseen pulling at his body.
For the first time in his lost memories, he felt his back hit something solid. He could feel a cold stone surface making contact with his skin. His arms were forced wide, followed by his legs, and he had to grind his teeth to keep from screaming as the jagged stone caught his skin.
Light exploded around him, blinding him. He tried to pull his arm up to shield his sensitive eyes, but the attempt was futile. Blinking rapidly, he began trying to adjust to the blistering light. Slowly, he took in sights of fire and land. The glowing, fluorescent flames illuminated tall grasses that danced and beckoned his hungry gaze.
He was once more in his own body. He could feel, he could see, but he wasn't foolish enough to give into relief.
All too soon he realized where he was. Rage built up inside of him. A force so strong he didn't dare try to control it. He fought his restraints desperately trying to get free. He didn't want to be here! He didn't want his soul to have to relive such agony, to once more look upon the same sights he'd believed were his last. His soul cried out, amplifying his rage, as he attempted to summon his powers.
"This one will actually be fun." A woman spoke from beyond the fire's light. Her voice was soft, a mellifluous caress washing over him.
He halted in his struggling, trying to focus beyond the wall of flames surrounding him, but all he could see were the dancing grasses.
"What is your name, tormented one?" Her voice came from all around him, causing him to fight back a surge of panic.
Why was he here?
The flames did not flicker, and the grass seemed to pause in its dance, as if they awaited his answer.
"My name is DeArmound."
A cool breeze brushed over his body, and without a sound the woman appeared before him. She wore nothing, expect for a silken red sash that was tied around her hips. Her long black hair fell down her shoulders, the tips swayed like the grass beyond, around her hips.
The thick fall of her hair did nothing to hide the swell of her breast. The burgundy of her nipples was a dark contrast to the paleness of her skin, but the sight was breathtaking.
His eyes shot up to hers as she moved closer. Her smile was lustful, her lips swollen, as if they were calling out for him to bite and tease. Her eyes were bright red, with obsidian swirls that pulled him further into her spell. Her gaze roamed over every inch of his skin; summoning a burst of arousal he had no hope of ignoring.
DeArmound was shocked to feel himself become so demandingly hard, but as her knee came down beside his on the stone surface the shock drifted into a distant corner of his mind. He watched, speechless, without thought, as she climbed up his body. Her breast swayed with her body's movements, her hair slid off her shoulders to fall down onto his skin, and he feared he had lost his sanity.
Her hands landed beside his shoulders, and she lifted herself up until she was straddling him. She arched her body, hands stretching into the air, her hair cascading down over her creating a display of such beauty all DeArmound could do was stare. His awe was mind consuming. His thoughts captivated, taken over.
