Barbarian Song - Chapter 2
She woke up on the second day down in that well with clansmen yelling profanities and throwing rocks from the opening high above. They were covered, so the rocks could not strike them, but the violence of the stones crashing against the well floor made her uneasy. She decided to explore the caves while Mez slept.
She was a masterful wildcrafter and gatherer of food and herbs. She found caves that led to large openings where the sun poured down onto plants that grew tall and healthy. Keena’s herb pouch was bursting at the seams with everything she could need to heal her fallen hero. She was especially happy about finding the root of the Black Forest flower, known to save many lives and many marriages. She took the smallest piece of the root, chewed it up, and let it rest beneath her tongue. Almost instantly she felt the energy building inside of her—not just physical strength, but a surge of warmth in her heart that traveled downward through her body, finally settling between her legs. She squeezed her thighs at the sensation, uncertain what was happening. Every nerve felt awake: the breeze flowing from the cave into the opening, brushing along the grasses and flowers, kissed her smooth young elven skin.
Keena returned to Mez, who was now trying to hold his head up. He struggled to speak, drifting in and out of consciousness, murmuring and grumbling. The barbarian was striking to look at, and Keena found it difficult not to stare—her hands often rubbing his muscular arms and legs to try to bring life back into them. Midday, Mez finally lifted his head. Barely able to form words, he choked out, “I need you to help me… my son to be is depending on you…”
He went on, in fragments, to tell his beloved elf that if he were to have a son and fulfill the prophecy, he must release his seed every two days. Otherwise, the child would remain trapped in Vagar, never to be born. She could not fully understand him, but she grasped how desperate he was and how deeply he believed it. She herself was still a virgin, having only kissed a few elven men and watched them swim nude in the lakes. Yet she understood his urgency.
He fell back into a deep sleep. She placed cool water on his brow and gave him drops to drink. Since he could not use his arms, she massaged them with her soft but powerful hands. The heat of the day grew stronger, and she shed half her clothes until only her undergarment remained—a soft, simple, loose-fitting dress made of elven cloth, wonderfully smooth to the touch. The straps slipped from her shoulders whenever she bent or reached, often exposing her honey-drop breasts that defied gravity.
And just as every time Mez drifted into slumber, his manhood awoke. The loincloth shifted and lifted, the outline of his cock sliding across the fabric until it pressed up toward his belly button, pulsing faintly with his heartbeat.
Keena chewed another piece of root, then lifted his testicles to apply the herbs at the base of his shaft, rubbing in a circular motion. His heavy, egg-like balls rested in her palm as she rolled them gently between her fingers, studying every detail. His cock began not only to pulse but to flex, the mushroomed head swelling as a drop of fluid formed at its tip. Curious, she touched it, pulling away with a thin string of clear liquid. Needing to know what it was, she placed her finger in her mouth. The taste was full of vigor, like the essence of a man’s heart upon her tongue.
She remembered his words—this must be what he needed to release. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and lifted it from his stomach. It was as stiff as driftwood, and when she let go, it slapped back against him with a heavy smack. She cupped his balls in one hand and squeezed lightly while her other hand stroked along the skin that moved over the rigid hardness. She enjoyed the sensation of the veins pressing against her palms, the rhythm building as more clear fluid beaded at the tip.
Unable to resist, she leaned closer, letting her supple lips draw the drop away from his round head. Her small hands struggled to grip his girth as she worked, and soon his breathing grew heavier. She pressed her lips to the swollen tip again, tasting him as his cock pushed against the back of her throat.
The rhythm built until Mez began to jerk and moan. She pulled back for a moment, watching as his cock erupted with white fluid, shooting across his muscular chest and pooling in his navel. She dipped a finger into the sticky pool and brought it to her lips, savoring the taste. She squeezed his balls again and stroked him until the last drops of seed spilled into her hand.
Her womanhood pulsed with electricity. Using his seed as lubrication, she slid two fingers inside herself, circling her clitoris until ecstasy washed over her. All the while, her gaze lingered on Mez’s face, softened into a faint smile of relief.