*** An excerpt from SOUP Wars ***
Kerin groaned gently as loud and obscene noises from the room next to him disturbed his gentle slumber. He eyed Felina. The snoring fairy seemed unfazed by the ruckus. The young Gypsy covered his head with a heavy blanket, hoping it would muffle the obnoxious and rather obscene sounds. It didn't work well.
Kyern's new room was far smaller than the room he’d shared with the kid, but that hardly mattered. The only thing that mattered to Kyern was the two cantaloupe sized tits and the fine looking glassy-eyed chick attached to them. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” Etelvina had confessed as Kyern began stripping off his coat and armor. Her eyes had widened as Kyern quickly divested himself of his clothes. His physique was every bit as impressive as she had imagined it would be, and in one respect quite a bit larger, than any she had ever seen. Good lord in heaven, she had thought at the sight of his member, I hope I am up to this.
“Son, if the you treat a woman like a lady and you put her happiness ahead of yours, rest assured, you'll bang more pussy every single fucking time.” Kyern thought vaguely to himself, and Etelvina slowly divested herself of her dress. His grandfather, Hernán, had told him that the night before he lost his virginity and Kyern had taken the advice to heart. With that advice in mind, he kept his impatience in check and restrained himself from ripping her clothes off where she stood.
Yeah right, you don’t usually do this kind of thing, Kyern thought to himself as Etelvina’s expansive bosom was freed from its constraints. She kept her back turned to him as her hands moved in mysterious ways in front of her, performing what Kyern considered the longest strip tease in the history of foreplay. When at last, the dress fell and folded around Etelvina’s ankles, Kyern found himself looking at the classic hourglass figure of his dreams. She had rack and back. Impatience was pounding at the walls of his self-control as she turned slightly, her arms making a passable attempt at covering her breasts, and smiled at him shyly. “I am ready, Don Kyernan.” She whispered. Instantly, Kyern was right behind her, his hands enveloping her breasts, his lips brushing against her bare neck.
“Yes,” he whispered into her ear, feeling her smile as he did so. “I see that you are.” At first, the concept of oral sex had struck Etelvina as bizarre and revolting. With hygiene, being what it was in medieval Spain, it was understandable. Nevertheless, over half a century of experience in sweet loving, a tongue stud and a cybernetically enhanced stamina has a strange way of changing a girl's mind.
“Holy Mary, what are you doing?” Etelvina gasped. Kyern responded to her with only a cheesy grin. “Oh Don Kyernan, this is sin... nay... aye... nice!” Because of her profession, Etelvina had been tasted the lips of many a strange man before. In her mind, consummation consisted of nothing more than placing her legs in a welcoming position and being squashed by a heavy man who did only was necessary for him to impart his seed and get his satisfaction. This was not the case with this fierce and rather insane man who beaten the Mayor's son and the Deputy in cards. He did not show his passion in the accepted Christian manner.
This stranger, this obvious heathen, acted as if he was a dog or a Moor in the way he loved her. At times, he would sit her up or lift her knees above her head. He did his evil deed standing up, sitting down, upside down or lying sideways with his legs tangling around hers as if they were thorn bush branches. He would bounce her as if she were a little girl playing horse, but not quite. When Etelvina's father played this game during her infancy, it was never quite like this perverted version Kyern introduced to her. “Oh my God! Oh God!” Kyern noted that has her passion increased her vocabulary decreased. It was evident from her shrill and abrupt, hyperventilated squeals that she enjoyed this decadence, regardless of her moral objections.
“Yeah baby!” It occurred to Kyern that perhaps he should have come up with a better line, but the huge bouncing breasts and the plump ass on this naked Renaissance babe had practically taken over ninety percent of his conscious thought processes. The rest of it was concerning itself with pleasuring said woman who obviously was not used to getting such pleasure. His delight of finally being fucked for the first time in years, and gauging the levels of pleasure the woman beneath him was rising through. Time traveling didn’t suck as badly as he thought it did.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, OH!” Etelvina’s vocabulary had been reduced to a single word, repeated over and over. Her eyes were rolled back and her head was whipping from side to side, and Kyern felt he had better finish before the pleasure overload caused permanent brain damage.
"Could you tone it down Kyern, some of us are trying to sleep!” Kerin's anger could be heard through the thick walls from the room next door. Kyern ignored the kid's request. Getting laid was far more important than being polite, regardless of anyone else’s bitching.
Finally the big moment came just before Kyern did. A human earthquake, frantic screams, pledges of love and monosyllabic prayers to God overtook the girl like the ecstasy that overcame a mystic nun. The ecstasy soared skyward to reach its impossible peak and slowly, gently returned like falling snow. Etelvina lay immobile with tears in her eyes, her breasts heaving as she tried to get her breath back. Tremors of pleasure still rode through her body like wild horses, it was an effort to keep from passing out.
“Oh merciful God, that was the most beautiful experience in my life.” She whispered hoarsely. Kyern grinned with exhaustion and poorly disguised pride. “Yeah, I've been told that before.” He mumbled into the pillow.
The tears of joy in the hired woman's eyes turned into droplets of pain, as she remembered why she was with this man. The wrenching agony in the assassin's heart became as acute as the joy she had felt from loving gift Don Kyernan had shared with her. Any man, who was willing to give her such joy, obviously must love her in the way a troubadour loves the plebe maid with nobility hidden within her soul. This made her task all the more unbearable. One million was not enough, ten million was not enough, and there was no treasure in heaven or earth to match the price of such a man's life. But the contract had been signed, and if she did not carry out the deed... “Forgive me my beloved.” She whispered.
"Forgive you?" Oh shit, Kyern thought to himself, I hope she isn't expecting a commitment already. "For what?" Memories of wedding bells, and the inability to say no to weepy broads with a wide repertoire of guilt-tripping techniques caused abrupt knots to form in his stomach. Oh God, oh shit, oh fuck, Kyern thought, a shiver of fear crawling up his spine, anything but a marriage proposal.
Kyern still wore that worried look when a radical change in perspective overcame his world. This was the result of being lifted boldly off the bed and tossed unceremoniously on the floor by the very legs that had been so lovingly wrapped around him only moments before. Caught off guard, exhausted from his exertions, and struck by grudging admiration of any woman with that kind of strength and recovery time, he only just managed to avoid getting the wind knocked out of him as he landed.
"Ok" Kyern began as he started to rise, "you don't wanna cuddle that's fine wi-" The quick whisper of steel leaving leather had him on his feet in a second. A thump registered in Kyern's hearing as he rolled to his feet on the other side of the room. Looking down, he saw a long slim dagger had buried itself in the floorboards, its edge smeared with blood. Looking to his right, he saw she had taken a nick out of his shoulder.
Looking up to the bed, he saw Etelvina kneeling near the center. Tears now covered her cheeks, her left hand covered her breasts with the aid of the sheets, and two more daggers stood poised to fly in her right hand.
Oh good, Kyern thought with relief as the wound on his shoulder scabbed and healed over, she's not proposing to you, she's only trying to kill you. That I can deal with. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he waited for the next dagger.
