The Black Sheep 2

A/N: My muse is fickle...

Content:

female protagonist, nonhuman, creampie, breeding, cheating, religion, fantasy

Chapter 1

No one ever understood how practical elves are. Their attitudes towards bastards explained everything. There was never any punishment. The son who sowed his oats or the daughter who let her field grow never feared shame nor disownment nor poor marriage prospects - they never received anything but happiness. In any other species, this would be a disaster. In any other species, low population could easily be overcome. The humans, the orcs, the dwarves - they could breed endlessly if they were promised food enough for all. The elves had a low libido and a lower fertility. Other species insisted on chaperones when their unmarried members gathered. Elves never had anything to fear. Even their bathhouses were mixed without care.

It was common knowledge that the elves' longevity was balanced by this low libido and fertility. It was common knowledge among every species that there existed an elf better than you at everything. An athletic human male hit his prime in his mid-twenties. An athletic elf - their men and women were of the same strength - an athletic elf hit their prime in their mid-twenties and never left it for millenia.

Camilla was one such elf, the youngest in her village. 25 years old, she had a body any other elf woman would have wasted: she had flowing, red hair; pale skin that never gained a tan; blue eyes that never filled with anger; medium-sized breasts that would never sag til old age; a toned-ass with wide hips; and a knowing smile. Her elegance was at odds with her lust. Camilla, unlike every other elf, had the libido of a human woman. She, unlike any elf before her, possessed a human woman's fertility. The ripeness of her womb would be misunderstood for a while. The frequent heat between her legs would draw whispers, after the hunt.

She chased a giant spider in the shadow of the woods.

Camilla's four-elf squad of Rangers followed behind. The captain let her lead. His bearded, harsh face had bent under her many requests, a feat equivalent to downing a dragon with a hundred punches. His footsteps were silent as she shepherded the giant spider according to her plan - he and the others only made noise to usher the spider on a certain angle. She would corner it at the nearby river. An elf could swim across it. A monster like this would drown. It would be pushed in.

The nearby tribe of humans depended on their success. Failure meant more hunters caught in invisible, bronze-like webs - caught and eaten. Failure meant Camilla would have to eat her pride. She felt insecure - so much of Elven mores and identity were defined by their low libido. Her libido was strong. She wondered, what was the cost? What had she exchanged? The elven height of skill? She had to know.

The self-doubt may have been foolish. Her plan, however, was wise. The crystal-clear river showed rocks a dozen feet deep at this crossing. During the spring, the river teamed with fish migrating to their nesting spots. In the summer, the last stragglers swam, and only for a short while, prey to every bird with a taste for seafood. Today, a giant spider was pushed in with four sharp Elven spears. The monster's eight limbs floundered. It struggled; it sank.

The corpse drifted in the current. The humans would see the body float by.

The captain patted her shoulder. "Well done, Camilla. You've led your first hunt, and you've led it to success."

"Thank you, Captain Brutus. I succeeded due to your lessons. Besides, the monster was nothing special." Now the hunt was over, Camilla felt foolish for staking her identity on the giant spider of everything. Yes, it would be a clear sign if she failed. Success, however, meant she was average. She wanted to be skilled.

Brutus had a glint in his eyes. "Nonetheless, success is to be celebrated. The humans are safe and grateful. They will be in a fine mood. There shall be songs and dances. Food shall be below our standards, but meat is meat. I've brought wine - the lesser races always love wine. We should share the fermentation process with them one day, yeah? Hah. Perhaps that would be unwise - they always seem ready to mate after a few drinks. You would know that well, eh?"

Camilla giggled at Brutus's wiggling eyebrows. She had lost her virginity last season, after her first monster hunt. Her parents were pleased her libido existed, unlike some elves. "I've told you before, the human drank after our mating. He believed it would replenish his seed. A foolish hope. He drank himself to sleep."

"So you say, so you say. And I say you're a liar. I say you pretended to mate. Prove me wrong. Find a man tonight."

"Perhaps I will." Camilla smiled at Brutus' shocked look. She knew he had been joking. No one expected an elf to mate again so quickly.

"That's...that's good. Wow. You must really like monster hunts, yeah? ...Please don't get pregnant. I'll never hear the end of it if you make a baby before I do."

"No promises, Captain. You should mate with a human woman. I'm sure a pretty one will be grateful." She laughed at Brutus' quick shake of the head. His libido was normal for an elf. His parents would love a grandchild after waiting 300 years. His previous matings had resulted in no children.

Camilla, Brutus, and the other two elves walked to the human tribe in good cheer.

It was mid-day when the preparations began for the party. The tribe pulled out everything to celebrate their heroes. The village-chief, an old, tanned man, swore oaths of friendships. Camilla smiled and spoke to the human women who gathered around her, mothers and maidens, her leathers catching their eyes as their tribal clothes caught hers. There was a difference in the craftsmanship: there was a feeling of elegance from her that the other women sought.

She captivated them like the sun. It was her elven sophistication; it was her cleanliness despite the hunt, her unblemished skin despite the forest, her pleasant smell despite the exercise. It hid her thoughts, her impatience and anticipation. Her outside purity hid her inner filth. She wanted to mate. She had wanted to mate again mere weeks after her first time. It ate inside her like a fever. None of her meditations could quench it for very long. Even masturbation fueled her desire for a real cock, and no elf ever had to masturbate. And now, with the time close at hand, she was nervous yet excited. The longing's strength surprised her.

It was stronger here, like a starving man's need for food redoubling after seeing a feast. The quality mattered less than its accessibility and quantity. The elven men back in the village rarely wished to mate. The human tribal men were handsome, though many were married. So be it. If Camilla's best option was a married man, she would take it. She had earned that much. For some reason, she even believed it would feel better.

At the feast, finally ready and laden with meat, she bit her lip at the village chief's oldest son. She sat next to him on a log. The man was tanned, tall, and strong. He had four kids and a wife, and he would be hers tonight. The certainty of that thought had her wet. She twirled her red hair when he spoke. She laughed at his jokes. She met his dark eyes with a confidence that startled him. When his wife looked concerned, Camilla gave a knowing smile. The wife turned angry; the wife compared the two of them. A flirty, beautiful, clean elf against a tired, once-pretty human with a speck of dirt in her ears. The wife's eyes begged her.

"It's only a single night," Camilla said to her, voice quiet, elegant, and certain. "You already have him every other day. What's the harm in sharing with your saviors? Your husband has a choice. He can refuse. Will he?"

Alex, the village chief's oldest son, pleaded with his wife through his dark eyes. His actions gave Camilla a thrill. It almost felt like masturbation, this drama over her.

When the night fell, Camilla dragged Alex into her tent. Her fellow elves looked amused. His wife looked resigned, her hands tightly gripping a horn of wine. His friends whooped.

Alex stripped off his tribal clothes in a hurry. His pecs and abs were well-defined, visible even in the darkness. His body bathed in shadows from the firelight outside. The size of his cock was a mystery in the dark, its outline promising, inspiring an eagerness to discover and inspect.

Camilla stripped off her own clothes, feeling like a goddess. She smiled knowingly at his ogling eyes. She walked forwards, swaying her hips, hiding her arms behind her back, exposing herself. Her medium-sized breasts, her trimmed flower, her near-invisible wet streak, her eager smile - she bared it all. Her anticipation shook her body. She felt like she had clipped a dragon's wings and its execution was at hand. She needed his cock, his seed.

"Am I prettier than your wife?" Camilla asked teasingly, running a hand across his defined beard. She pressed her breasts into his chest, relishing the feel of his cock pressing into her belly. She heard him gulp.

"Yes. Gods forgive me, yes. I cannot lie."

"I love an honest man." Her fingers trailed down, strumming his chest, before curling around his cock. Her thumb rubbed his tip. "I'll be honest as well. Try to quicken my womb. I'd love it. I'd love getting bred by you. My people would love it, too. You know, there's no half-breeds? Every mixed child is the species of one of its parents. How about it? You're a virile human man. You have four children. You should be able to plant your seed even in an elf's barren fields. My fields. Let's see who's blood is stronger: mine or yours? Do you think I'll carry an elf bastard or a human bastard?"

He groaned. He got her giggling when he pushed her to the ground on all knees. He wanted to mount her like a dog.

"Lick my flower first, you eager brute. Savor it. Savor the taste, before you spill your seed inside it."

"I've never eaten a woman's flower before, Camilla. Teach me."

"Your wife will thank me, even if she hates me now. You'll have her eager to bear more kids. Kiss my behind. Kiss my thighs. Yes, that's good. It's like creating fire - you must gather the kindling and set it alight. To pleasure a woman, you must get her ready. Take a finger and stroke my flower. Oh. Slowly. Yes. Can you feel the warmth and wetness? It's a good sign. It's what you want, though your wife may require a different method. Yes, yes, yes. There's this spot here," Camilla guided Alex's hand to her pleasure button, "that almost every woman loves. Strum it like a love song on a lyre. Yes. Oh, oh. Now lick me. Lick me with rhythm. I want a man, not a dog lapping at water. Remember my spot. Oh, oh. Keep going. Hard licks. Hard licks. Oh, oh."

Alex followed her instructions dutifully, kneeling behind her. The man had buried his smile in her flower. He licked her lower lips while his fingers rubbed circles on her sensitive spot. He had her arms collapsing from pleasure; her ass stayed up thanks to his grip.

"How are you so talented? Oh, oh, oh. I'm almost there. I'm almost there. Keep at it. Almost, almost, almost - oh gods. Oh gods. Oh gods!" The moan that escaped Camilla came from within her chest. The emotional release she felt was beyond mating - it was the achievement of a desire she wanted since last season. She felt the pleasure of a man's tongue on her flower, again, after so long, after a blink of an eye for an elf. She felt the mending of the world, her world. She felt the return to a familiar road once strayed from. She felt content for the first time since her last mating.

Alex gave her ass a light slap. His voice had pride. "This eager brute is talented at everything, I assure you. I've never eaten a woman's flower before, but I never had any complaints. Is my elf ready to be mated?"

"Yes. Gods, yes. Take me like a dog. Give me a litter." Camilla wiggled her behind, spreading her cheeks with one hand.

He gave one last kiss on her flower before aligning his cock. They both groaned when he entered. He pushed slowly, waiting for objections, never hearing anything but moans. He sheathed himself all the way in. His cock felt large, filling. His married cock felt perfect inside her slutty elven flower. His seed needed to spill inside her, needed to take root, like a one-sided competition against his wife - the sudden longing scared her and brought a smile to her face.

Here she was, a pretty elf with perfect skin, and the tribal human had her feeling grateful for his cock. She felt thankful for his proven virility. What was wrong with her?

At that moment, he pounded her and he kept going. He gave her an answer though he knew it not: there was nothing wrong with her, nothing wrong with enjoying such pleasures frequently, absolutely nothing wrong with seducing men if it felt like this. It was a realization built on the most permissive culture for young women in the world.

The steady humping had her head touching the ground, like a perverted kowtow. As an elf, her pride was gone. At this moment, she wanted to be used. She needed to be used. She loved being used. Her face was red, her smile was wide - it was blissful, that mating, that humping, that cock, that strumming of her insides. Everything else fell away. Alex's cock dominated her world.

His hands slapped her ass, again and again, drawing out moans with the ease of spearing fish in a barrel. His grunts, few but powerful, had her pointy ears straining for more.

Camilla said breathlessly, "Talk to me. Tell me how I make you feel."

"...You're tight. Wet. Perfect. Gods. It's perfect. Your flower is going to ruin me. Nothing will ever feel the same. I need to see your ass red. I need to leave my mark on you if my seed fails to take."

Camilla shuddered, those words pushing her over the edge again. She was a hole being used in her throes of pleasure - it was perfect. Everything was perfect. The wait had been worth it; the wait had been too long.

After her shuddering stopped, Alex reached his limit. "Camilla!"

"Only inside, only inside. Gods, bless us."

He bottomed out within her. Unknown to Camilla, his seed would find fertile soil. Unique among all elves, there were no poor fields in her - only exquisite topsoil. A good land. In comparison to other elven women, an easy land to farm, to sow, to reap. He spilled several arrows of his virility inside with a joint prayer. He needed only a bit of luck to hit his mark.

He hit the bullseye. Neither had any idea at the time. He said, out of breath, "Gods. Gods. Oh gods, that was wonderful."

"It truly was, Alex. Thank you. Thank your wife from me as well - I appreciated borrowing your cock. You may let her know it is indeed a fine reward for saving your tribe." She felt another arrow of seed spill inside her. She knew he would like her words. It set her giggling.

Her good mood lasted after she let him return to his wife. Before cleaning her flower in the river, she gave a traditional prayer, said after every copulation with seed spilling inside: asking her womb to quicken. Her mother would be furious if she forgot. Her dad would joke - he was lenient and laid-back. Most importantly, however, they would want her to enjoy the mating. And she had, oh, she really had.

The next morning, Captain Brutus joked about her high libido. The story spread around the village when they returned a week later, their Ranger patrol over with no other monsters found: Brutus talked of two matings in back-to-back seasons.

Her parents would find out. She put off that conversation. She meditated in a nearby spring, she practiced her lyre with friends, she sparred once with Captain Brutus. She held no anger towards him for spreading the story. Elves were different from other species. She feared the opposite of rebuke. She returned home at sundown.

"Dear, sweet dear, oh how we've missed you!" Her mother swept her up in a hug. Claudia, Camilla's mother, could be her twin. She had the same red hair, a similar pretty face, the same chest, the same height, and the same ass. Her smile was cunning and her blue eyes were thoughtful.

"Hey there, Camilla. Missed you." Her dad joined the hug. Julius was an elf in his prime, with blonde hair and brown eyes. He always looked to be on the cusp of laziness, but his eyes were sharp.

"Love you both." Camilla let herself be led to her family's main room. Like all elf civilization, it surpassed every other race: from the human tribes to the orc tribes, nothing came close to the luxury on display. There were soft leather couches dyed red. There were sculptures of birds so life-like they would be mistaken as real on first glance - her father's work. There were scrolls upon scrolls on the wall, gathered by her mother from other elven villages. Her mother always worried over their race losing people and knowledge. Some of the gifts from Camilla's birth were present: a tapestry of the first elven hero, a beautiful table fit for eight people, engraved pottery of the elven-naturism style, and a rug made of bear-skin. Incense burned, giving off a pleasant smell.

She always felt refined after returning home. She never heard of any non-elf house made of marble. It was always wood or brick or animal skins. The simple life had its own pleasures, though. She rubbed her hand over her stomach, absent-mindly.

After waiting for everyone to sit down, and stroking the fire to life, her mother's smile turned curious. "So, Camilla, your father and I heard the most interesting story. We heard from a friend who heard from Captain Brutus, your Captain Brutus to be very clear, that you mated again. Again! Tell me, dear, is this wonderful news true?"

"It is, mother. I did the prayers afterwards, too."

"Wonderful. Simply wonderful! Let's pray it takes. Gods, we need more elves with your attitude. You know, Captain Brutus has sired no children in all 300 years of his life? And he's average for our species. We're long-lived, but we can still die from a good stab. We're dying, our species is slowly dying at this rate."

Julius touched Claudia's hands. "Honey, let's table the gloom and doom tonight. Our daughter did a wonderful act, as you say. We can be happy."

Claudia clasped her hands with his. There was a tender moment. She nodded, her smile turning small and joyful. "Yes, you're right. I'm sorry, Camilla. I'll be happy that you mated. I was so relieved when you did last season, and again already? It's like the gods want to give me hope. I pray you'll do it again, next season."

Camilla nodded, feeling awkward that she already wished to mate after a week. Should she tell her parents? It was the right time, if she ever wished to say something - if she ever wished to confess the truth about her high libido. After a moment, she decided to put it off. She had no wish to stand out.

Her dad looked at her, almost thoughtful, before giving a lazy smile. Rather than questioning her about something he must have seen on her face, he brought out horns of wine.

The family celebrated that night.

The months of summer passed quickly. She continued sparring with Captain Brutus, she continued playing the lyre with friends, she continued meditating. She learned embroidery after many painful nicks. Her Ranger squad was on break. Each Ranger patrolled on-and-off for two seasons, before going on vacation for the other half of the year. There was a rotation. Once, a single elven village could have patrolled the entire region by itself. Now, smaller in size, they coordinated with the other villages.

One day in the middle of autumn, Camilla's mother noticed a baby bump. Camilla herself had lacked awareness of it. Unlike women from other species, elves had no periods. There was no lack of bleeding to indicate pregnancy; there was only the shape of one's stomach and minor nausea.