An original story from Liquid Silver Books author, Darragha Foster

Please read Chapters One and Two if you haven’t already.

Prince Hlini, or Lin, for short, is a man’s man. He enjoys riding, archery and killing animals in days-long hunts with his courtiers. He is also royal pain in the ass—literally. His voyeuristic and sodomite penchants have kept him much too busy to find a suitable wife in which to sprout his noble seed—because it’s safer to make love to page boys and stable-hands than it is to possibly produce a child who will someday poison you to usurp your throne. Prince Lin also suffers from a tad bit of paranoia. There is one woman whose tremendous beauty (and delicious potatoes) has caught his eye…Sigyn of the garden corner. But greeting her from horseback is about as close as he’s ever been.

Sigyn is the daughter of the village witch and the village undertaker. She is of the lowest caste in the kingdom, for she works on her knees in the dirt, mixing in compost created by her father from the burning of the kingdom’s dead. Still…she has the most successful vegetable stall in the realm. People come from far and wide to buy her fruit and veg. With strength, beauty and a height most women will never see, Sigyn could have many suitors—all lower class, uneducated dirt-farmers. She wants more from life. She wants to be king.

Eventide… a gratis lectori salutem (free to the readers) e-tale by Darragha Foster about that magic time between the end of day and the beginning of night. Beware the mist, the call of the geese and horny wood-wives.

Warning: If you’re familiar with Darragha’s work, you know this story will contain sex, violence, and all-around… quirkiness. If you’re not familiar with Darragha’s work…

And now the third chapter of Eventide…

Chapter Three

Lin had been trained to awaken slowly lest a kidnapper’s blade be poised at his throat. No bolting from his bed in joyful happy princely exuberance. The conditioning had been harsh and more than once he’d felt the bite of a razor against his throat as a child. Never sharp enough to slit him from ear to ear, the training had, nevertheless, been effective. He would not rise nor would he fully open his eyes without first surveying the area by smelling the surrounding air and listening for unfamiliar patterns of breath and body movements to ascertain the level of personal safety dawn had gifted him.

He opened his eyes a slit, peering out behind thick eyelashes. A flickering light told him he was inside. The warm air confirmed it. He could feel the heat and hear the crackle and pop of a nearby fire pit. Something wonderful was cooking. It was not his fowl, he was sure of it. The smell was richer and more pungent than wild pheasant. He swallowed hard—wanting to taste a morsel.

He opened one eye cautiously. Certainly there was no blade at his throat, but neither was their any familiar visage. I am not in the forest. I am, he opened his other eye. I am in a cave.

His hands gripped the softest of down comforters tucked around his body. The inside lining of the blanket felt like an endless ocean against his bare flesh.

I’ve been stripped down to my long underwear! Oh, my…where is my bow? My hunting knife? My boots?

A rustling—a flittering movement in the direction of the fire caught his attention. “Who’s there? I say, where am I?”

“He wakes, sister,” Ama whispered.

“He wakes. Yes,” Angr replied. “And I have the dice.”

Ama grabbed the dice from her sister’s hand. “I call it. Highest number takes first crack.”

Angr clenched her empty fist shut. “Grabby, eager sister. Were you not my own flesh and blood I would run my skinning knife through your belly and set your entrails on fire as they spill at my feet.”

Ama cast the dice. “Another time, perhaps.” The dice landed on double sixes. “Ah, ha! You cannot best twelve!”

“I can tie, and cause a draw. Then we shall have to move on to the best two out of three,” Angr replied. She tossed the dice.

The ogress sisters hovered over the rolling bones like vultures over something sweet and dying.

Angr quivered with delight as she, too, rolled a twelve. “Let us not waste time drawing lots, sister. Let us go to him together wearing our masks and remember that he is but a puny human.”

Ama nodded. “If he dies before I am satisfied I shall be harsh with you, sister. But I agree. Let’s don our masks and approach him. Comfort him. Seduce him.” She reached into a basket woven from cedar bark and withdrew two masks. One silver. One gold. She offered her sister the golden mask and fitted the silver one over her own horrid ogre face.

As the silver mask touched her blemished, pox-marked flesh, its magic began to work and an illusion took form. An illusion of smooth, supple skin, full lips, round breasts and the odor of woman—not decaying, rotting carrion feeder enveloped her.

Too, did the golden mask transform Angr into a ravishing beauty.

Lin heard their approach.

Though he was not strapped down, he could not move his arms or legs. He strained to turn his head in the direction of the gentle footfalls and delectable perfume emanating from the shadows. “I say there…why am I in this bed obviously deep within a cave? Am I injured? Have I been kidnapped?”

Gold masked Angr sauntered out of the shadows, her hands caressing her own bare breasts. “You are uninjured, sir.”

Lin swallowed hard. Such a body this woman possessed. Such a body he had never seen. Not an inch of her looked malnourished or ill-used. The roundness of her breasts and belly, and her wide hips and fleshy thighs made him tight in the groin. If only he could move! Even if she was his enemy, he would have her. By force, if necessary. “Then why, dear lady, can I not move my limbs?” he asked.

“Because you rest upon an enchanted bed,” Silver masked Ama said, following her sister out of the shadows.

Lin wasn’t sure if he should bless his luck or pray for protection from the succubae hovering over him. He couldn’t see their eyes. They were but small glowing orbs hidden behind the slits of the mask’s eyes. He could see their mouths, however. Hungry lips, smacking and wet. It was the lips of the silver masked demoness he felt first. She tugged away the comforter and kissed his knees. She nibbled her way up to his thighs and long fingers encircled his member.

He gasped as the lips of the golden mask found his nipples.

He was helpless to stop his attackers, or if they were not attackers, to return their caresses. His legs and arms continued to be pinioned to the magic bed. Only one extremity—his thickening penis, seemed to be able to rise to the occasion.

Gold mask climbed atop him, her rear going into his face. It was far from unpleasant to have the nether regions of his mysterious captor at his lips. He extended his tongue and tasted her glistening mound. She smothered his face, allowing him to feast.

“Oh, dear sister, I can tell by your shallow breaths that satisfaction shall be yours,” Silver mask remarked. She lolled her tongue along the shaft of Lin’s member. “He has a goodly shape which will fill us well, does he not?”

“He will serve us well, sister. Very well,” Gold mask replied.

Neither noticed Lin’s tears as they took unfair advantage of his body.

Stay tuned next week for Chapter Four…

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Ripped from her LSB bio:

Darragha lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and daughter in a one-hundred-sixteen year old house continually under renovation. The house is haunted by the spirit of a Union Civil War-era soldier who seems to enjoy watching the construction every now and then. Someday, he may turn up as a character in one of Darragha’s stories.

This an original story given generously to us by Darragha Foster. DO NOT post any part of this story on your site without attribution to Darragha or a holla-back at her site. That’s not cool. Always give credit where credit is due, yo.

Note: Hey, other writer-types, do you want to contribute to The Serial? If so, email me and I’ll hook you up, yo. Peace!

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