The Architects Test

So! This was kinda fun. I tested writing in short bursts, in that way which expresses panic or excitement. I also tested writing in first person. I doubt much more would come from this, and honestly I rarely write anything erotic, but hey! Here's the mostly unedited results of my test.

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Zanar escaped the darkness, and his senses returned to him. A moment later the goblin Ryza stumbled out after him, bow drawn, eyes wide with fear. There was no sound behind them - but they had heard nothing while within the inkey darkness. Ahead lied the brick walls fo the maze,

"Keep moving!" he yelled, and both he and Ryza rushed forwards. A sudden clinking. Something hard against stone - then an array of spearlike fingers sweeps from the next intersection, smashing Ryza against the wall. The goblin rolls, a massive gash across her arms and chest.

Fingers. It was in front of them now.

The thing was huge, lanky, it's skin of porcelain and it's limbs bent at multiple points. It was almost insect-like, with a clear mask and red gem glowing from one eye socket, the other empty darkness. Its arms ended in spear-like fingers.

No time, no slowing. Fuck that. Fuck losing Ryza, but fuck dying even more.

Zanar left the others behind. Forwards. Gherund and Liara are somewhere back there too, but he could barely think, his heart was pumping. Forwards. There was a buzzing in his ears which was making him dizzy - he couldn't breath. Forwards.

Around the corner. Take another turn. Find some light. It hates light. Better yet, find a statue. Forwards.

Stumbling and rolling across the ground Zanar drops his dagger, rolls over, and clumsily pulls himself back up. There, ahead, the corridor he marked with his piton. The statue is there, a winged woman weeping into her hands. Shit, he can feel his own blood dripping down his back, he must have missed getting struck. He can't move, he's having trouble breathing, that buzzing is getting louder, the ground is cold, the world is spinning - the pressure in his head has become a heat. Darkness is taking his vision, shit.

Zanar pulls himself closer to the statue, and a weak breath becomes his last, this life.

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I am wrapped in white sheets, a pale white light bleeding through them. My back - it's fine. Pushing at the sheets I pull myself up.

I am within a clean room of twisted white and black marble, statues of a woman stand next to pools of clear, clean water - the Scorned Lady - with her wings spread behind her, crying into her own hands.

The sounds of trickling water fill my ears, echoing through the place, the silence making it seems louder than it is. Then, a voice calls to me in a resonant tone like the ringing of a chilled wine glass.

"Zanar Gerin. Strong. Wiley and Witty enough to pass beyond the maze. Yet woefully underprepared. You have been brought to me by her. I am to comfort you, to make you well, and to prepare you for your journey into the maze once more."

The woman walked out from behind one of the statues. She had rosy skin, long, pale brown locks, her robes are of raven feathers stitched to heavy, soft black and silver fabrics. She has a neutral look on her face, though her eyes being covered by a clean set of bandages made it harder to tell.

I want to see the whole of her face, he thought. She reminded him of his day in the palace, of the gift he was given by the prince. Her proportions certainly reminded him of those sumptuous nights.

That gift was his last memory before coming to the hellscape of the maze.

"I'm not dead then, hm?" he asked.

"No. You are merely resting, near death, at the bed of her statue." She replied.

I sigh, and stretch my shoulders. Pulling at the sheets I stand - seems the goddess forgot to give me any clothing. "Ok lady. You seem to know my name. How do I get back then?"

She smiled. "Zanar, getting back is simple. It is the in-between which matters. You should wash yourself of your worries." The woman motions to the nearest pool. Mist makes it difficult to see far beyond it. Then she continues, "My name is Eridia, I am the Architect of the Maze. I am here to help you, any request shall be yours."

She was stepping closer to me now. Hands pulling the sheet away. I was... entranced. She pulled me towards the pool. She was beautiful. And she was being clear enough. And I was rock hard - but there was more to ask.

"I imagine there's more to this. More than, well, this" I motion about the room while I sit on the shallow marble step into the pool.

"One of many benefits. You will be able to build things, like me, power to see what truly is, to reshape those things which you need to. Yourself most of all." There is a noise, something thunking to the floor. Eridala's robe. She sits next to me, leaning into my chest - her breasts pushing into me, our faces are close.

"We have time to discuss it. Where would you like to start?"

I reached down and found my hand between her legs, just below the water, rubbing carefully as her face contorted slightly, pleasurably I hoped "I haven't had a moment to relax since I came here. Perhaps I ask, as we work.", one finger in, her warmth welcoming it was pleasant, but the look on her face was better, her mouth twitching, I didn't want to kiss her, not yet. I wanted to see what else she would do.

My answer was quick. Her right arm gripped around my neck, while the left fell to my pelvis, squeezed at the area for a moment, then trailed around my dick. She started softly stroking me.

So I needed to begin, drawling on my words while I enjoyed the experience "The Scorned Lady, well, what is she? Why does she care about me anyways?"

She grins, "She is the One who watches over this place, makes sure justice is done. She picks her Architects to enact her will, she hopes you will be such a person one day -" I pick up the pace, placing a second finger inside her "Zanar! She, agh, hopes you will one day be such a person."

I loved that reaction. Just like back home. Same circumstances too - shit, not that I was in the mood to think about that kind of thing. I'd wake up after this kind and find my companions. Next question. "So, reshaping things, seeing the way of things. What the heck does that mean?". I picked the pace up almost immediately, and she struggled for a moment "You, ahhgh, you see the truth of the place, you - " she was panting now, then she suddenly buckles into my shoulder, and almost shouts "Agh, Fuck Me!"

Fuck. She was there, the heat on my neck. Something about that noise pushed me, I grab at her ass and lift her over me, then taking a single breath in between, slam her onto me.

"Ahhh!" - she lets out a long moan, then start moving, leaning into my shoulder and neck, making her noises directly into me.

"I guess you can't say much this way huh?" I'm panting. Shit, it felt good, like a pulsing warmth spreading across me, the slapping of our bodies together a metronome in time with my own heart - half time at first, then after a few moments, I'm pushing her along, at full speed, and everything is melding together around me.

She's saying nonsense while I press to orgasm "Fucking weavework, damn bloody feast, fucking lady! Why is it always so good? Why with fuckers like this?"

I'm moving at a pace, grabbing at her side, pulling her deeper onto me, the water splashing everywhere as she hits the base of my cock on every beat of my own heart.

She stiffens and pulls away from me slightly, making a small noise as her breathing becomes sharp, shallow, sudden, she tightens around me. It's too much for me, I hug her close for a moment in a tight embrace and I unload, pulsing and shifting as I orgasm while she is coming down from hers. Sticky. Hot. My heart is calming down, slowly. After a few moments of eternity.

"Aghh. Fuck. Next time. We try something more creative."

She slips off me, and lets herself sink most of the way into the water.

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