An original story from Liquid Silver Books author, Darragha Foster

Please read Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, and six 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 seventh chapter of Eventide…

Chapter Seven

Sigyn waited until the air had cleared of ogress sex-stench to climb down from the ledge. The prince was awake. The sister had not spelled him to sleep as they left their cave this time.

“Prince Lin,” Sigyn whispered.

“Who are you?”

“I am Sigyn of the garden corner come to make rescue.”

Lin laughed. A strange sound to fill such a dire place. His laughter reverberated around the vault and echoed into the blackness beyond the living quarters. “A woman? On a rescue mission?”

“It is women who hold you captive, sir. Who better to rescue you than one who knows how women think?” Sigyn replied. “I see no bonds. Can you move?”

“The bed is enchanted. I can move atop it, but not away from it,” Lin replied. “They are using me sexually. It is most humiliating. And yet, I find myself more sexually satisfied than ever before. It is a paradox and an embarrassment.”

Sigyn wanted to backhand Lin for such a silly remark. Men, her mother had taught her, find it difficult to rise above their carnal natures—and this was a case in point. “Do you know what the markings on the bed mean? Perhaps they are the key to your inability to rise up,” Sigyn remarked.

“I can’t read staves. I was not an attentive pupil. The pull of the outdoors always distracted me more than spending time with the friars and their books,” Lin replied.

Sigyn pursed her lips. “If you agree to eat will they break the spell of these markings to allow you to enjoy your repast as a man should? Upright…at their table?”

Lin nodded. “I believe so, yes. Though they are ogresses, they are not boors.”

“You whine like a little girl when they approach you, but you are rather enjoying this, aren’t you?” Sigyn asked.

“How dare you say such a thing? I am prince of the realm!” Lin scoffed.

“And I supply your table with the best fruit and veg in the known world. Am I any less than you in noble stature when it is I who nourish you? There are men and women in your kingdom in need of assistance. Their roofs leak and their children need shoes. Why have you not sent your courtiers out into the countryside to nourish the poor and strengthen their resolve to love king and country?”

“If I am so unworthy a ruler then why rescue me?” Lin asked.

“Because your father has offered half his kingdom for your return. I put no fancy garnish on my reasoning behind making this quest, sir. I want that reward.”

Lin smiled. “I may have not paid attention in class, but it is you who are a fool, wench. Half my father’s kingdom is swamp land and cannot be farmed. Will you be queen of the boglands?”

“No. I’ll be king.”

“A woman king? Then tell me, your future majesty, how are we to escape?” Lin asked.

“Perhaps by using their own fog against them. The goose is bewitched, you know. I’m sure I can persuade her to sing and call out the fog for our escape. All you need to do is learn the secret of these markings and recite them when the time comes.”

Lin nodded in agreement. “That is a clever idea.”

“Of course it is. I have bigger bullocks than your courtiers, or they’d be the ones here rescuing you and not I. They returned to your father without you with their tails tucked humbly between their legs, I dare say. I shall be king, you know.”

“You are an uncommon woman, Sigyn of the garden corner. What say you to being queen when I am king?” Lin asked.

Sigyn rolled her eyes back and laughed. “If that is a proposal, it is the worst I’ve received to date. I have no intention of being anyone’s queen. Now, before I piss myself to death laughing, do you have any other questions you’d like to ask me?”

“Yes,” Lin replied. “Do you have any food? I am starving.”

“I’ve potatoes in my bag hidden away not far from here,” Sigyn said.

The goose waived her long neck and knocked over a bag of mixed seed.

“Spirit, are you saying the seed is free of enchantments?” Sigyn asked.

The goose rolled a corn kernel into the fire pit.

“Of course, popped corn. Quickly, toss some kernels into that pot. It won’t be much but it will stave off your hunger until I can smuggle you a potato,” Sigyn commanded.

“Ah, your majesty…I am chained to this bed quite unable to fend for myself. Pray, would you be so kind as to pop some kernels and quickly feed them to me before my captors return?” Lin asked.

“Yes, right. Of course.” Sigyn moved from the bed and tossed a handful of corn into the black pot chained up above the fire. In moments, the kernels snapped and popped into large white morsels of gastronomic delight. To Lin, they could have been the finest choice cut of venison brought down with a single arrow by his own bow.

He ate quickly, greedily. A starving man’s hunger has no manners. “I’m very thirsty, Sigyn. But I dare not drink their wine or water. Can you take a cup and fill it from a vessel other than an ogress container? There is a drip from the ceiling which must form a pool at the back of this cave. I hear it when it is quiet and it makes my thirst more intense.”

Sigyn looked for an earthen cup and waited as the trickle of cold water, no doubt run-off from the falls, filled it. She held it out to Lin, who took it gratefully. At last, his hunger and thirst slightly abated, he thanked her.

“That took you long enough,” Sigyn replied.

“What?” Lin asked.

“To thank me for coming to your rescue before you are killed by starvation or the hot passions of an ogress.”

“Did you watch?” Lin asked.

“I did. And I found it hard not to vomit when she cast aside her mask. A woman’s thighs should not be crawling with maggots nor should her privates be so rancid as to attract flies!”

“The sex is…” Lin paused, trying to find the correct word. “Fascinatingly exhausting.”

“Oh, dear Lord. You are enjoying this!” Sigyn accused.

“Certainly not!” Lin protested.

“You are! I see it in your eyes and in the tone of your voice. Oh, my God.” Sigyn put her hands on her hips and squared her jaw. “Well, I shall say this but once, Prince Hlini, I’m taking you from here and I am collecting the reward and what you do after that is your own business. If you wish to tie yourself to a tree and become the lover to a thousand dryads, so be it. Just do not deny me my reward so that you can stay and be abused by the ogress sisters.”

Lin blushed from stem to stern. “I must admit, the sex is phenomenal. But a man must be free and freedom is not mine as long as I am changed by magic fetters to this bed.”

“You must learn what the markings mean so that you can be freed of this satin and velvet prison.” Sigyn’s attention piqued as the sound of the ogresses filled the mouth of the cave. “I’m away. Do your part and I shall do mine.”

“Yes,” Hlini replied. He reclined onto the bed, trying to look as hungry and thirsty as he had before the ogresses left for their bath.

Only one ogress entered the cave. Odd, when they were always together. “Prince, how do you feel? Are you hungry?” Ama asked.

“Yes. I am hungry,” Lin replied. “Even the sight of that partially gutted buck makes my mouth salivate.”

“Want a taste? I could cut a juicy portion for you and roast it over our fire,” she offered.

“Thank you,” Lin said. “But, please…I am royalty and cannot eat unless I am seated at a table properly. Training from youth, you see.”

Ama snarled. In her natural state any form of exhaling caused the foul stench of raw meat to waft out of her gut, heavy and putrid in the already befouled air. Lin, with good showmanship even he was pleased with, smiled sweetly through the gagging odor, hanging on Ama’s every word.

“You can’t escape, you know,” Ama said.

“Yes. I know. But truthfully, my dear lady, I have no intention of escaping,” Lin replied.

Ama giggled like a little girl. Completely out of character for a fearsome ogress. A woman’s heart was encased in her fetid form Lin now knew. “Will you join me at the table, sir?”

“I’d love to, but I cannot leave this fine bed,” Lin replied.

Ama perked up. “Oh, true enough! Comfortable bed, release your sleeper!”

Sigyn, from her perch high above the smitten ogress and the clever prince, memorialized the phrase.

“Well, that is clever, isn’t it? Tell me, dear lady, do the staves and markings across the bedposts say only that? Comfortable bed, release your sleeper?” Lin asked, taking a seat at the table.

“Wine?” Ama offered.

“No, please. I am very thirsty and crave ice-cold water from the falls outside this cave. Would you be so kind as to fetch me a pitcher?” Lin asked.

“I’ll ask Angr to do so. She is drying her hair just outside,” Ama replied.

Drying her hair? Lin wiped the dazed look from his face. The only place he’d noticed hair on the ogresses was their armpits!

Ama sidled up to Lin like a hotty bar wench. “To answer your question, the runes cause animation of the bed. It can act as a vehicle for transport, faster than a cart and team of draft horses. The runes invoke the bed to fly! The bed linens are charmed to keep what is on the bed, well…on the bed.”

Lin smiled. “Indeed! How clever is that? The very sheets are the prison and the bed is a horseless carriage of sorts.”

Ama nodded. “Exactly.” She spit a joint of meat over the fire. Licking flames met fat and sinew causing sputters and pops and new odor to fill the cave. Lovely, roasting meat.

“Dear lady, how is the bed invoked?” Lin asked. “Never had I heard of a more interesting objet enchanté.”

“Oh, I do love it when my prisoners speak French!” Ama cried.

“I am not your prisoner, am I? Truly, am I not your lover?” Lin asked.

“Shrewd prince. You are the prey of the ogress sisters of the deep woods and what we have done with you, instead of eating you, is make you our lover in hopes that one of us will…oh, I should say no more about these things,” Ama said.

“In hopes that one of you will what?” Lin approached the ogress as she tended her roast and lightly stroked her on her warty, wrinkled shoulder. He cringed at the contact.

“We’d like children. There are no males of our species. To breed we must choose a father from another breed altogether,” Ama replied.

“Children. Dangerous little creatures. I’ve never wanted them myself, for one day I fear I’ll drink from my cup and be poisoned by my own child. We breed them to take over for us, you know. It’s the kingly thing to do. And yet, if our child shows too much promise or ambition, he or she must be locked away less hemlock become a plaything in the glass.”

Ama shuddered under the prince’s delicate caresses upon her shoulders. She’d never been touched so delicately before. “You are allowing paranoia to get the best of you, sir. Children are a gift and a blessing.”

“If you bare a child, madam, will it be comely?” Lin asked.

“Will I bare an ogre? No. Ogres are made, not birthed. My child will be human or wolf or bear or pixie.”

Lin returned to his seat. “You have mated with forest animals?”

“We have been trying to conceive for some time. From largest to smallest, we have loved every forest creature in hopes of siring children. You are not the first human we have tried, though you have lasted twice as long as any other. Human men cannot handle the love of the masks.”

Lin glanced at the masks, propped up against the cave wall. “The masks give you an illusion of female perfection—though I am assuming now that males will see you as their own kind. Bear to bear. Wolf to wolf. Yes?”

Ama nodded. “The illusion makes us more palatable to our captives. Ogres are not comely.”

“I disagree, my lady,” Lin said, spitting out the words before he could stop himself. “I am finding you quite agreeable in your natural state.”

“Eat your meat, sir and stop trying to butter up an old ogress,” Ama said, offering Lin a slice of the roasted venison.

“Sister! He is free?” Angr asked, stepping into the light.

“He is hungry,” Ama replied.

“Oh, well then. Do eat prince. Eat and enjoy your repast. But let me ask you this before you take the first bite, will you marry us?” Angr asked.

“When I am king I can take as many wives as I wish. Or I can just keep you as concubines. How would you feel about that?” Lin asked.

Ama giggled. “Concubines? Do you hear that, sister?”

“Eat,” Angr insisted.

Lin did not want to consume the enchanted venison. As hungry as he was, he did not want to further enhance the enchantments binding him to the cave. “I say, before I eat this lovely joint of venison, will you don your masks and…no, I dare not ask it.”

“Ask what?” Angr asked.

“Yes, do speak!” Ama insisted.

“The bed flies, you say? Will you make love to me, in mid-air?”

The sisters smiled broadly, each displaying their jagged yellow ogre teeth. “I see no harm in this, sister. No harm at all. He could not escape, nor would he jump to his doom, for he is a Christian and of royal blood. Suicide is a sin.”

“I have no intention of jumping or trying to escape. I want only to feel the wind on high while pleasuring you, my dear captors. Sweet captivity that it is. So sweet.” Lin batted his long eyelashes at the sisters and whispered as seductively as he could, “Sweet.”

“Get on the bed, sir. Get on quickly!” Angr ordered. She picked up her golden mask and slipped it over her face as she tossed Ama the silver one.

Lin stretched out on the runic spoon-carved bed with its enchanted linens and beckoned the sisters to his sides. He glanced up at Sigyn’s perch, knowing she could see and hear all that he was accomplishing.

Ama slipped into her silver mask. Lin marveled at the transformation of the ogresses in his arms. From wretched beasties to nubile young women in a flicker of a moment.

Angr reached inside Lin’s long underwear, gripping the burgeoning hardness of his manhood. She whispered, giving his penis a stroke with each word, “Roll, my bed, roll quickly on whithersoever I wish thee,—be gone.”

A brief sensation of being folded in half gripped Lin. He held his breath, fearful, yet excited at the same moment. A thousand pinpoints of light struck him; struck the bed as the folding sensation continued. He felt his stomach touch his backbone as the bed sailed upward, and outward.

High above the canopy of trees, eye to eye with the mountain peaks, the trio made love. The masked women nearly sent him over the edge with their passions. Lin was but a rag doll, being tossed between them atop the bed as it drifted on air currents only hawks and eagles shared. He feasted greedily between their sweet thighs, putting thoughts of maggots and offal far from his mind. They sucked his penis and testicles so skillfully…just far enough to tease him and make him want more, but never far enough to allow him to come. His orgasms were allowed only deep inside them. Either of them. It didn’t seem to matter. As long as his royal seed spilled where it had a chance to flower, they didn’t care.

Resting against Ama Silver Mask’s round, warm bosom, he caressed the shapely backside of Angr Gold Mask and watched day turn to dusk.

“Eventide is at hand, ladies. This is the time of day when magic is afoot in the forest. Does the pull of eventide affect even the heavens?” Lin asked.

“The pull of the eventide is stronger than any tide or current of earth and sky. The magic extends to the vault of heaven and to the roots of the tree of life, itself,” Ama replied.

“Then let us make love one last time to honor the pull of old, deep magics,” Lin said. “Can I order the bed to take us out to sea? I wish to watch the sun set against a liquid horizon.”

“Tell the bed where you wish to go. It’s that simple,” Angr replied.

“Bed, take me to the eastern shore!” Lin commanded.

Stay tuned next week for Chapter Eight…

____________________________________

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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