Legends of the Fel Chapter Two On the Road
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Legends Of The Fel - Chapter One - Capture free porn video
It had been a dark day from the offset. Sharn had left her village before dawn and when the sun had arisen, it had been a bloodied red, colouring the clouds with its malevolent stain. A chill in the air accompanied the birth of the morning, a low white mist clinging to the dew-wet grass that grew tall and long at this time of year. Pushing her way through the undergrowth, she approached the forest; the gaps between the trees still as dark as the night just spent.
Pausing at the boundary to the wood Sharn reached to her back and withdrew her bow. It was stoutly made, handed down through her family through the ages, repaired on many an occasion. She was proud to do its lineage justice. At the tender age of eighteen, she was the village archery champion, a proud huntswoman granted the title of ‘Triltrist’ meaning ‘True Shot’. Not yet bedded by any man, the only sex she had known was inside the fond embraces of her slightly older stepsister, Keldeharn.
They shared a small bed in their family hut, the long dark nights of winter made pleasurable by probing exploratory digits as they fingered one another to climax. Sharn loved the sensation of kissing her sister's clit, licking her way around the fleshy protuberance before tracing her way downwards, flicking her tongue deeper and deeper into the warm wetness of her vagina. Eventually, they would both exhaust their sexual needs before falling into a deep and peaceful slumber.
The two girls would often bathe together in the large bath made from stone and deer hide. The water came from the local spring and was warmed in pots over the fire beforehand. Whenever the temperature of the bath water started to cool, then the girls would use their own special means of heating it up, parting their pussy lips and pissing into the water around their thighs.
This would always set the girls off giggling if their mother was in the room as she would always be oblivious to the naughty goings-on in the bath. However, if the girls were alone then they might often take it in turns to pee into the water whilst the other watched, perching their nude bum on the rim before letting loose with their hot stream.
Just thinking about bathing with her stepsister was making Sharn desperate to go. Taking a quick look around to make sure she was unobserved, she then hiked up the material of her skirt to reveal the dark brown haired triangle of pubic hair nestled between her legs. With her skirt out of harm's way, Sharn wasted no more time and started to let out a steaming hot stream of yellow piss, spraying out of her pussy lips and splattering down over the cold earth below.
Steam rose from the impact point whilst the hissing sound of her toilet sounded unnaturally loud in the still morning air. Deciding she best finish her piss as quickly as possible, she squeezed harder watching as the stream of yellow urine flowing out of her body increased in size and distance. With her bare bum cheeks exposed to the cold air, she played her pee stream over the stems of the nearby grass shoots enjoying the sensation of covering them with her urine.
After several more moments of gorgeous relief, Sharn finished her morning pee. Allowing her short leather skirt to fall back into place around her muff and bum cheeks, she set off again, pushing past the piss stained grass patch. Within seconds, she had plunged into the darkness of the wood.
It took several moments for her eyes to adapt to the gloom. Once she had regained her vision, she pressed on. Up ahead, barely two hundred paces was an open glade in which a small spring bubbled up from the rocks and fed into a marshy pool where the local game would drink. Stealthily, she made her way through the undergrowth. Beneath her feet came no sound, a lifetime of hunting making her a deadly stalker. She could see the glade now up ahead, shafts of sunlight piercing the gloom of the wood into the open space.
‘There, just between those trees on the right,’ she told herself as she spotted the large stag. The animal was grazing, its head lowered to the floor. She was now thirty paces away, an easy shot. Slowly and without a sound, she released the bow from her back along with an arrow. Notching her hunting tool, she straightened to her full height, raising the bow as she moved.
Pulling back, she revealed the muscular grace of her slender frame; lithe and powerful with strong arms created from yielding her bow since an early child. Sighting along the arrow, she slowed her breathing knowing that the shot must come between breaths for the arrow’s flight to be true. The killing moment approached, her concentration locked.
Suddenly, from the distance, there came the urgent clamour of the village alarm, a metal plate beaten by a hammer. Startled by the sound, Sharn released her hold. The arrow shot forth but leapt skyward as her concentration faltered. Cursing the waste, she turned and dashed back through the woods, all thoughts of stealth abandoned. As she burst from the tree line, she plunged through the tall grass stems and undergrowth not even noticing the damp splashes on her clothes and legs as she moved straight through the patch where she had earlier pissed.
Her feet flew over the ground, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind consumed by what the alarm entailed. She had been but a small girl the last time she had heard its metallic clang. At that time, a small raiding party of bandits had come up from the coast where they had landed in their small ramshackle war boat. The villages had fought them off, the wooden barricade encircling the dwellings defence enough against the badly organised bandits.
The village was coming into sight now just over the rise of the hill which led down to the main cattle track that passed through the village gates. A thick pall of dark black smoke was rising upwards. As Sharn came to a halt on the hillcrest she saw that the defensive barricade on fire. Her heart lurched. She could easily tell that the attacking force was well organised.
Near the gates, a mounted party of eight were circling, occasionally shooting arrows of flame in the direction of the main gate that was already on fire. Behind this party waited another group possibly thirty strong, stood shoulder to shoulder in a box formation obviously waiting for the gates to fall. Sharn dropped to the ground desperately trying to become one with the earth. She stared intently at the figures below.
‘These are not men,’ she thought as she took in their measure. Each one was indeed a woman down to the very last member of the infantry. They seemed to be wearing a strange mix of armour, their chests and backs covered in steel and their legs encased in dark leather yet it was the final detail that puzzled Sharn. A sudden gasp followed as she realised the extent of what she was seeing.
Each woman’s groin was exposed, both buttocks and pussy on show to the watching world. Even having realised the truth at this strange mixture of armour and nudity, Sharn struggled with the concept. She had never heard of such warrior women who covered their breasts with steel yet who willingly exposed their womanhood for all to see. This raised the obvious question as to who were these attackers and why had they come to her village?’
From out of the clamour rising up from below and over the clang of the alarm and the shouts of the villagers, there came a loud war cry from the lead rider. The party of horse-mounted warrior women reeled around and formed a rough wedge that bolted forwards towards the wall of smoke belching from the village gates.
They vanished from sight as they plunged into the smoke before a loud crack announced the fall of the village’s defences. Sharn saw the warriors again, bursting forth from the reeling folds of smoke and galloping at full pelt into the village grounds. A new cry arose as the infantry set off at a quick pace that turned to a run as they neared the broken opening.
Sharn marvelled at the women, sunlight reflecting off their steel chests, flashes of black, brown and blond pubic triangles of the women’s muffs as they moved forth. Their formation stayed intact, each woman in perfect line with the woman beside her. This spoke of strict martial discipline and once again Sharn could but ponder at the identity of the attackers.
The sound of battle coming from the village brought her from her thoughts. She could hear the screams of people dying, women wailing as the invaders cut their way further into the village. Sharn tried to rise but fear kept her pinned. She had never been so scared. Between her legs, a warm damp stain started to spread over the inside of her leather skirt as hot pee leaked from her pussy. Shame washed over Sharn as she lay there, pissing herself whilst her friends and family were being slaughtered. The warmth of her escaping pee trickled down her legs shaming her more.
Should she ever arise from her coward’s viewpoint, then what would she look like rushing to the aid of her village with urine streaks running down her legs?
A sudden noise from behind caught her attention; the snort of a horse. She twisted over in the grass moving onto her back, bow and arrow quill digging deep into her flesh. Two mounted Amazon women appeared in her vision. How they had approached so close without a sound before was miraculous. Sharn’s gaze settled on the first woman.
She was a resplendent redhead, both tall and beautiful. Her long red strands fell over her stunningly crafted armour. This warrior was different in so much that her leggings were also encased in steel, polished so bright that they were painful to stare at in the increasing morning sunlight. The saddle hid the woman’s pussy from sight but Sharn could easily tell that she too was not wearing anything around her crotch by the hue of creamy white skin exposed at the base of her chest armour.
The woman said something to her companion in a strange tongue, her eyes never leaving the form of Sharn in the grass below. Sharn did not recognise the language. Sharn glanced towards the first woman’s companion. This Amazon sat on a tan beast. Although she was not as accomplished in her looks as her companion, she remained a worthy looking specimen. Her golden blond hair had been regimentally cut short at her creamy white neck, whilst harsh bright blue eyes stared harshly in Sharn’s direction.
The first warrior woman spoke again. She was the leader. Sharn was sure of it. Her tone and manner indicated authority. Her eyes were brown and cold, the stare of a killer. Sharn remembered her village below, the sounds of the dying still filling the thin morning air. Resolve took her. She would not die on the earth like some worthless worm. If she was to die at the hands of these stunning Amazon women with their perfect looks, polished armour and reckless nudity, then she would die with a weapon in her hands.
With a speed that amazed even her Sharn leapt from the ground, her hands reaching to the bow on her back. In one fluid motion, she brought it around in one fluid motion. Her spare hand had found her supply of arrows at the same time and as her bow and arrow came together, she was already raising her aim, pulling the bowstring taut, as she made ready to let fly.
With amazing dexterity, the second blonde haired warrior leapt from her saddle, hitting the ground and was on her feet in moments. Sharn caught a brief glimpse of the woman’s triangle of blond pubic hair nestled between creamy white thighs before the warrior’s sword blade swatted the bow from her hand. A following blow to the face sent Sharn reeling backwards to the ground.
Sharn felt the tears welling in her eyes from the smarting pain of the blow whilst the first woman with the red hair and cold eyes slowly dismounted from her horse. The blond warrior grabbed Sharn by the hair and roughly twisted her over onto her stomach and onto the cold damp ground. Then she felt the weight of the warrior leader as she descended over her. A knee pushed harshly into her back and a cold steel blade appeared at her throat.
Sharn felt a consuming terror inside. Once again she felt the warm sensation around her crotch as she peed herself with fear. Suddenly a new warm wet sensation arose, this one splattering over the back of her head and it took Sharn several moments to realise what was happening whilst every moment the wet sensation increased in force soaking through her hair. The hot damp passage moved on to the skin of her neck and into her tunic.
‘She is taking a piss over me,’ said Sharn’s mind in disbelief. The warm stream continued the force of it strong against the back of her head. Warm trails of piss were flowing down her back soaking her tunic before reaching her waist where it ran around her skin and dripped to the earth.
Sharn lay quite still whilst the warrior woman continued her relief, too terrified to move. Sharn could hear the soft hiss the woman’s pee made as it squirted forth out of her slit before shooting through the air to spray into her hair that was sodden with warm pee. Sharn’s ragged breathing seemed somehow distant as if somebody else was in her place, a most strange sense of displacement. The warmth of the warrior woman’s piss was wonderful, the shame inflicted by the act unbelievable.
‘Was there anybody left in the village able to witness this humiliating event? What would they think to look up at the hill and see their young huntress who had not even managed to release a single shot?’
The woman’s pee stream was beginning to lose its strength. Moments later and she was done. The cold blade at Sharn’s throat vanished. She felt the Amazon stand up and move away. Sharn remained where she was. She was utterly spent, the shame of being used as a toilet stealing her resolve to fight. Dimly she wondered what would happen next when suddenly she detected the approach of the second Amazon coming to stand above her. Her skirt was drawn upwards by the tip of an unsheathed sword, her peach like bum cheeks exposed to the world.
Fear made Sharn bite her tongue, painfully so, drawing blood. Then a new familiar sensation arrived, this time pattering over her bare bum as the blonde warrior started her piss. Above Sharn’s buttocks, a twisting stream of hot pee was flowing out of the blonde woman’s cunt. It fell downwards in a twisting fountain to splatter over Sharn’s exposed buttocks, running over her curved cheeks, off to the sides and between the groove and over her bum hole, soaking the hairs of her pussy with the woman’s urine.
Once again, Sharn was being used as a receptacle for a warrior woman’s piss, her body being subjected to a hot flow of running urine whilst the woman peed all over her. The woman took a step forwards, bringing her fountain of flowing piss to spray over the back of Sharn’s tunic. The Amazon’s toilet lasted another couple of heartbeats before she finished with one long burst of piss that shot from her pussy lips and fell just short of Sharn’s neck.
Sharn lay in the piss stained dirt not daring to move. ‘What now?’ she wondered. ‘Maybe they would bring up the rest of their entourage and one by one, they would squat down over her naked body and subject her to a shower of pee. Alternatively, maybe they would just abandon her, a piss stained tribute to their victory.’
Strong hands grabbed her and pulled her roughly to her feet. Blinking pee out of her eyes from where it had run around the back of her head during the first woman’s piss, Sharn tried to focus. With a shock, she realised that the Amazon leader who had pulled her up was completely devoid of hair around her pussy lips. Sharn gazed in wonder at the sight of the tight slit of the woman’s pussy, her clit clearly visible at the top. In her village, no woman would ever shave her muff and yet here was this powerful woman clearly showing off her naked pussy lips for the entire world to see.
Sharn’s musings came to a sudden end as sharp foreign words were spoken obviously for her benefit. She tried to reply, to state that she did not understand, but as she opened her mouth, she suddenly tasted the piss on her lips, salty and strange to her taste buds. Roughly, the warrior leader threw Sharn in the direction of the second warrior who caught her before binding her hands together. Head hung low Sharn stared at the woman’s pussy, the blond triangle of pubic hairs that only recently had been squirting her body with a shower of hot pee.
After securing her hands, the blond warrior roughly turned Sharn around and all vision was lost as she was blindfolded. Her clothes were then roughly stripped from her skin exposing her nudity to her foes. She was pushed roughly forwards whilst guided by a hand on her shoulder. The reek of burning wood and the smell of charcoaled flesh filled the air. Sharn wondered in abject misery if any still lived in her village.
Her mouth was still filled with the sharp tang of piss and her skin was beginning to chill as the damp stains on her flesh began to dry. Standing shivering in the cold air she waited whilst straining to make out the various sounds around her. Not once did she hear a familiar voice only the strange language of these warrior women who had sowed their seed of destruction on her village.
Eventually, a new pair of strong hands grabbed her and helped her roughly on to the back of a horse. Moments later she was joined by a warrior mounting up behind her. The cold of the woman’s armour stole the last of the warmth from Sharn’s bare skin, the hardened steel nipples of the woman’s upper armour pressing cruelly into her back. In contrast, Sharn’s bare bum cheeks were suddenly warmed as the woman pressed up closely in the saddle next to her.
Sharn could clearly feel the woman’s pubic hairs of her pussy against her backside. Suddenly, an order was barked. Her ride turned and started a brisk walk. From the sound around her, Sharn realised that they were not alone and that the Amazon women were leaving on mass. Behind her came the low howl of a dog and Sharn realised that this creature may be the only thing left alive in her village. Breaking down she started to cry. The woman in the saddle behind her offered no comfort, only a hard grasp to stop her from falling from their mount.
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