Aldair

[beno]

Hello. My first post. I made the 'world' partly as a place where I can do thought experiments about political systems, military, etc. Partly, and this is why I'm posting it (and what the story is just the backround to), as a way to indulge in my sexually charged fantasies. I am a power-as-aphrodisiac addict; I get turned on by the idea of a dominating alpha male (or female), who makes everyone else his little bitch (not necessarily in sexual way). So the stories revolve largely about this; powerful male doing stuff that shows off his physical power.
Now, the world is this (I'll give a short summary; don't know if you actually need to know, but might clarify a few things - such as "three hearts" and "six hundred pounds of muscle"): The Game. A group of interdimensional deities has kidnapped a bunch of people from every country/region, and made them compete with each other as rulers of their 'Islands'. They not only all GET an Island, they get to design it, and with it the people, the 'species'. And so, the story doesn't actually include human (homo sapiens) characters, but (completely) human-shaped, human-ish Mirmidones (homo sapiens superbus). This species, a product of one guy's (me, as the creator of the story) imagination; is separated into two sexes and four genders. One is male (sex AND a gender - the social construct, more or less), and the other three are female (sex): zun'yas (warriorlike bi*atches - for those into fitness models), alph'aras (princess-like mages - standard sexy), and omelas (the caregiver, mother, types - hot nonetheless). Males are here for basically three purposes: fight, fuck and work. This is their service to the civilisation (in the gender based division of labour).
Ok. Enough of the introduction. Also: pardon any mistakes in spelling or syntax: english isn't my first language.

[beno]

Part 1:
Breaking Free

Bulrig, son of Shaeera, rose to his feet and locked gazes with his collegue from the Imperial Guard. The male between them had just turned limp, his life squashed as if he was a bug. He was a nobody, a dockhand worker who hadn't ever been married. As soon as he saw him, Bulrig knew why. The dockhand was a smallish specimen, who, even had he been allowed back on Agema to grow stronger under heavy pressure of the skies there, wouldn't have grown nearly as strong as Bulrig was. Or Aldair, his young colleague who had just achieved marriage age himself, after returning from training at Agema.
The brutal murderer was a powerful alph'ara, a strikingly beautiful blackskinned woman named Rihaenne, who served the Empress as a Special Agent of the State. She stood with a haughty look on her face, the fingertips still smouldering from the discharge of magical energies which had apparently made a horrible mess in the criminal's body. Blood started flowing from his ears and mouth, and a terrible gash appeared on his side. Bulrig hadn't seen magic used for a long time; not like this, anyway.
He was one of the 'elders'; people who had grown up on Agema, prior to Founding, and he still remembered the mating competitions which had been held. There were no competitions on Miridia; at least not for mating rights. Bulrig missed that.
„We are done here. Aldair,“ the alph'ara turned to her colleague, „dispose of his body. Agent Trina... Go... Go... wait.“
She went out, Trina looking at Bulrig angrily, then followed her.
„Messy,“ murmured Aldair, as he threw the body through the window. Bulrig, an old man, couldn't help but feel disquieted by Aldair's strenght. The corpse must have weighed over five hundred pounds, yet the immense youth lifted him easily, using his enourmous muscles to lift him overhead, then throw him like a sack. Bulrig, as certain as he was in his own fighting prowess, having served the Empress with distinction, having had multiple children, and even sparring with Kardon himself once, couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of the youth who had, only a few days ago, sailed away from his training regimen on Agema. For a Guardsman, this was his prime-time; before his strength atrofied in the light pressure under Miridia's skies.
Aldair caught his gaze, tilting his square clefted chin questioningly. His green eyes glinted as they caught the reflected light from something; the yellow sun bathing his immense bronze tanned body brightly, accentuating the lines of his muscles through interplay of light and shadows. On his massive left pectoral muscle stood writing and a sign; „Beorn's Guards“. He looked pleased with himself and his performance, not in the least frightened by alph'ara's actions. But then he was so very young; he didn't know Lwyssandra, Bulrig's last wife, and the torment these powerful witches could inflict on men... and those were the ones they liked.
Aldair crossed his arms over his massive chest, showing his bulging biceps and the sinuous, long and thin waist that made his shoulders look even wider; the kind of figure that made alph'aras knees weak. There was a man whose life would only get better; young, powerful, well payed and a beautiful specimen of manhood. Until he's my age. Like me. Then he'll see. Still, it was a defiant gesture: the lad obviously didn't consider Bulrig more powerful than himself. Teach him a lesson. Break his spines...
Bulrig growled, unconsciously, and tension rose in the room. If they fought, Bulrig knew... did he know? A creeping suspicion arose in his mind. Here was a male: sixty years his younger, not yet in his prime, but fully developed, with probably more than six hundred pounds of muscle and steel-tough bones, who had just passed a rigorous training regime and was immediately chosen into Beorn's Guards; he was looking at him unflinchingly, matching his threathening gaze with nothing but confidence. Was he REALLY sure he could defeat the boy?
Bulrig heard voices come swimming through the doors: the females were returning. There could be no fighting now, or they would both be terribly punished by the alph'ara. Few moments passed, then they heard the steps, as the two women climbed towards the appartment.
The appartement was in a 'male complex'; an appartment building designed to house poor male workers with a central courtyard and three stories high. It was a series of small rooms with a joint latrine, and there were about thirty unmarried men who lived in squalor, when not toiling in the mills, fields and factories; or, in the case of Doren, dockyards. The labour of these men was the cornerstone of what alph'aras sometimes called 'economee'.
What that meant, exactly, Bulrig didn't know, but apparently it was important. He, being a proud member of Veronica's Guards, had left the 'economee' a long time ago; he wasn't allowed to marry anymore, but at least his job wasn't hard. It was boring, however, standing around doorways of the Imperial Palace, or following Princess Royal Victoria wherever she went, so when the opportunity came for taking an assignment away from the palace, he responded readily, and presented himself to alph'ara Rihaenne. She choose him for his experience; in honesty, he had to admit it was age, more than experience itself, which swayed her. He himself had, since Arrival itself, spent more time carrying heavy loads, plowing and then working a saw (until they started using the damned mill run by water), than fighting. Still, he had been in many a fight, and when Victoria’s Guard needed an ablebodied male, his first wife pushed a few strings and he landed the job. This came as a wonderful surprise to him, having never applied, or even thought of applying, since he had recently before lost a job to a machine.
Rihaenne also choose the other two; Aldair, the young male warrior, who had been trained from infancy for nothing other than combat, and Trina, an experienced zun'ya who, while beautiful, had a certain air of gravity about her. Agent Trina, as they adressed her, was a stocky, muscular zun'ya, a warrioress through and through. As an Imperial Dominatrix of long service, she had commanded a sizeable unit of Empress Emmanuelle's Guards, and she felt more than able to handle this assignement on her own. Even a male like me can see she doesn't like Rihaenne.
But, the Ministry of Internal Affairs had obviously seen fit to send a magic-trained alph'ara, albeit an inexperienced one, to handle a task like this. Doren, the man whose body would soon be taken over by the 'Cleaners Group', or maybe the 'Police', had a close relationship with one Greyard, son of Tishianne; a male who had dared raise his hands on his family, and whose grisly work they had witnessed a few days ago. He had murdered the entire family, all three women, and the omela, whose name Bulrig forgot, but who was pregnant at the time. The town was shocked when the news of this carried, and a special unit was formed to handle the hunt.
Greyard, a stonecutter, had, after slaughtering his family with his bare hands, escaped in unknown direction, but pretty soon Trina had tracked him down here. Then the 'case' was taken from her, and given under potestas of Rihaenne. She followed the lead Trina had found, which led them here, to Doren's appartement.
Unwilling to wait for armed support, or court warrant, or whatever Trina spoke off, Rihaenne had ordered them to enter and arrest Doren. As soon as two Imperial Guardsmen and a Dominatrix had entered the courtyard...

„What brings you cunts here?“, a male shouted from the relative safety of his balcony, where he stood in front of his room. As they stood in the middle of the dirty, dusty courtyard, someone else threw shit near them. Rihaenne turned towards the thrower, but couldn't see who it was: there were nearly twenty men in the courtyard, all dirty, naked workers, some quite muscled and strong. Two of the biggest, a bald black male and a white brown haired, bearded fellow with a dangerous expression, were immense: they could just as easily have been Imperial Guards as they were... this. Poor workers.
„Who threw this?“, Rihaenne asked. She almost sounded unafraid; her voice quivered just a little.
No, they do not love us, Bulrig thought as he eyed the black male warily. Gods be good. He is taller than me. He noticed how Aldair looked around, uncaringly. The boy's a fool... Or is he pretending?
„WHO threw this?“, Rihaenne reiterated.
„You did... cunt,“ came from the crowd. Again, the speaker wasn't to be seen. The crowd had, in the meanwhile, gathered closer, huddling around the trio.
„Someone with a deathwish!“, roared Aldair, making a step towards the left hand group, where the two most dangerous males were. The black one took a step forward, tilting his head, and flexing his muscles, but the rest retreated. There are TWENTY of them!, Bulrig wanted to shout at him, but knew he couldn't admit the severity of situation. Twenty aggresive, muscle bound Mirmidone males, with promise of death in their eyes; if it came to a fight, Aldair and Bulrig might hope to lay down their lives slowly enough for Rihaenne to escape and come back with Armed Squad. Then Bulrig remembered she was a witch, and that gave him some confidence.
„No. Enough of this,“ she said, laying her hand on Aldair's chest, to prevent him from starting a fight. „Stay,“ she said, and went towards the black male.
„What is your name?“
„What's it to you?“, he replied. Sparks flew from her fingertips; but men around her seemed too focused on the seductive roll of her hips, the way the stilletos made her legs unbelievably long, and the way the short dress hugged her large, round butt.
„I will ask again. What is your name, dog?“
She stood half a yard away from him, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder height. He could kill her with a sharp slap; a punch could decapitate her.
„Jorgan.“
„Jorgan... I am a Special Agent of the State, and you will adress me as Your Honour, do you understand?“ she asked, her voice dangerous and seductive at the same time. Bulrig found his mouth open; a theme mirrored across the yard. The bearded fellow receded away from them, apparently too scared to stand his ground.
In the small pause, she lifted her hand to his lips, the other hand laying peacefully by her side. But everyone smelt the cripsness of air around it; sparks flew from the fingertips, and air shimmered.
„So, Jorgan, carefully consider the consequences of angering me.“ Her hand came down, tracing the midline of his torso: between the massive pectoral muscles, and the palm came to rest on his pronounced abdominals. He had just been exercising those, Bulrig noticed; a bag of heavy stones was usually strapped around the forehead and neck, legs were put into holes in the wall, and then a male would do crunches, his ass resting on the wall. Jorgan must have been very dedicated. The sun cast shadows across them, making them seem even more pronounced. A male like Jorgan was certain to find a good family to mate with soon enough. Bulrig was surprised to find him in this rotten part of town. There were much nicer places to live for an unmarried male; losers and weaklings lived in such conditions. It could be, of course, that he was saving money for marriage in near future. Males worked their entire lives trying to save up, bulk up on muscle to look 'presentable', have a few children before the five year marriage was up. At the same time, the family might take all their money, leaving them a shell afterwards. It took Bulrig nearly two years to get back into shape after the abuse of his first marriage. Still; now I have four of my children running around somewhere... And the sex alone made it worth my while.
„Your... Your Honour. I am sorry,“ Jorgan said, suddenly not nearly as threatening.
„You should be. Now, down on your knees,“ she said, indicating that the lesson wasn't over. „Agents of the State are important people. And they do not have time to waste on worms like you. Do you understand?“
„Yes, Your Honour. Very much; I understand,“ he said, almost pleadingly. Fear was rabid in his eyes: he was almost trembling as he literally fell to his knees. His eyes were fixed on a point next to Rihaenne, as if he was afraid to even look at her.
„Good. So, to save my time, you will kill any man here who tries to interfere with what I or these Imperial Guards are doing. Won't you... worm?“
„Yes, Your Honour. Yes I will, I swear.“
„Good dog,“ she said, then turned towards the others, all of whom had backed away by now. „That goes for the rest of you. Anyone tries to interfere, and I will fry him where he stands. Now. I am looking for a man named Doren,“ she said, looking around.
There was a sudden scuffle on the balcony of the second floor, and a man ducked into an appartement.
„That's him,“ one of the males said.
„Thank you for that...“, she said, and marched away to the stairs. „Aldair, go get him. Bulrig, follow me.“

Bulrig followed her, eyeing the rest of the gathered men warily; the black male was still on his knees, now visibly trembling. Others were pushing him about, joking on his account, but his friend, the bearded one, left the complex quickly.
As they climbed up to the apartment, Bulrig heard sounds of struggle. A woman, Trina, was screaming, but not in pain. Then there was the growl he had come to recognize as Aldair, and the sound... of a male being severely beaten. As soon as they came inside, they saw Aldair holding what must have been Doren by the throat, several feet in the air, as the malnourished male wriggled pitifully, trying to land futile blows on the massive foe. Aldair was smiling up at him, his giant paw wrapped tightly around the man's throat-bone. As soon as Aldair saw Bulrig, he threw the man at him. Bulrig reacted instinctively, hitting the man with both palms in the air.
Doren fell to the floor, grunting in pain as his head hit the floor. He crawled forward, away from the newcomers, but unfortunately right into Trina's reach: she kicked him with her powerful leg, a heavy hitting blow which flipped him onto his back, his head hitting the stone floor again with a loud 'THUD!', as her heel dug into his chest.
„Aargh... what do you want, bitch?“, he asked her, his nose bleeding profusely.
„Well done Aldair,“ Rihaenne said. Trina looked at her, surprised.
„I could have beat him myself. Look, he is puny.“
„Yes, I'm sure that's why you have a wound on your cheek, while Aldair isn't even breathing heavily,“ Rihaenne retorted, her monotone voice dismissing the other agent, as she moved towards Doren. Aldair looked at Bulrig, smiled, and then moved the two massive slabs of meat on his chest. He was showing off, a powerful man enjoying his body. And the fact that he could break all of us into little pieces, Bulrig admitted himself.
„You know why we are here,“ she told Doren. He shook his head. „Yes you do. If you lie, it will only hurt much... much more.“
He swallowed audibly. „You are here for him, aren't you?“
She nodded: „We want to talk to your friend, Greyard.“
„No you don't. You want to kill him.“
„Shhhh... Don't ever dare to talk back at me. All I want from you,“ she said, quitely, as she leaned closer to the man on the floor, „is complete and utter cooperation. Do you understand?“
While Bulrig was growing stiff down there, watching how her butt bulged as she leaned forward, legs together, sticking the round up into the air, towards him, Doren suddenly kicked her. He was not a strong male, but he WAS a male. She flew across the floor, yelping in pain.
Aldair moved like a lightning, in two powerful strides stepping over the man, pushing away his limbs, and proceeding to beat him as the little man squirmed and howled in pain. Trina was helping Rihaenne up, and didn't see what was happening in mere moments.
Aldairs fists pummeled Doren, his head lolling left and right under severe punishment: stuck between a rock and a hard place, it wouldn't take long before even a male skull broke under such enormous forces. Blood and chipped teeth flew to the side, and Bulrig saw the stone tile sink below the level of others. Finally, Bulrig stepped forward:
„You're gonna kill him, idiot!“, he said, and grabbed Aldair's shoulder, pulling him away.
An elbow flew to his face, and the tremor rattled his brain; he felt a wave of dizziness, which immediately cleared. Aldair pushed him away, with all his strenght, and Bulrig flew across the several feet separating him from the end of the room; he struck the wall, with force.
„You little basta...“, he growled, moving forward to meet the young bull.
„Stop!“, Trina shouted, but it didn't do. Bulrig was angry. He wanted to smash this puppy; teach him what it meant to strike a Guard. Death, anger, destruction; ripping, tearing, shredding, annihilation. Thoughts of this flew threw Bulrig's mind, and then suddenly, there was fear.
Rihaenne stepped in between them, just as they had grabbed each other's shoulders, and said, still quitely:
„Stop.“
Without thinking, Bulrig did exactly that. Aldair looked at her, then back at Bulrig.
„Thank you, Aldair, but that won't be necessary. Bulrig, apologise to him.“ Bulrig hesitated, so she slapped him, and repeated, more firmly: „Apologi...“
„I'm sorry,“ he said, feeling his cheeks burn with hurt pride and anger. This melted soon, replaced first by fear then a pleasant feeling after having obeyed her. You really must obey her, she means only well for you, a strange thought came. It didn't feel like his own... but he knew it must be.
„Good dog...“, she said, mockingly.

„I don't... AAARGH! Aaaargh...“, Doren screamed as Trina twisted and pressed hard. Her muscled leg was pressing his penis, turning it to something mashed, dark red and ugly. Bulrig knew this was only a show: a zun'ya could inflict immense amounts of pain to men, whenever she wanted, and she didn't need to physically beat a man. Any woman could use the 'scented air' trick, but none could hurt a male like a zun'ya. Complete, utter pain: Bulrig shuddered, remembering. He had been married to several families; most of them had very aggresive zun'yas, and they did not release the control of the bed chambers without inflicting a lot of pain.
He looked around, unsettled by the sounds and sights, and then he observed how Rihaenne was pressing her ass against Aldair's thigs, using him as a seat; he was breathing deep and fast. His man-meat showed above her ass, an erect bulge of his loincloth; it touched her spine, despite her leanining forward. Is he bigger?, a hard thought hit Bulrig. He had already felt inferior to this man too many times.
„When this is over he's dead,“ he murmured, an iron certainty to his voice. Everyone heard him, and turned, as if startled. Even Doren stopped screaming, and looked at him in wide eyed terror with bloodshot eyes. Panic seized Bulrig. He was too loud.
„Not if he tells us what we want to know,“ Trina said. „Right, Your Honour?“
The alph'ara nodded, but Bulrig saw a cruel glint in her eye.
„Aarrghh!“, Doren screamed again, then growled; „Why... why, why, why...“
It took five more minutes before he finally spoke the truth they came for.
„He's here... oughh... gods have mercy, he's heeere...“
„Where?“, Trina snapped at him.
„In the courtyard. The man with a beard. Gods, this isn't worth it...“
„Brown haired? Short, sort of balding?“, Bulrig asked suddenly, as they all looked alarmed.
„Yes... unghh... yes...“, he said. Rihaenne looked at him, vehemently, opening her pretty mouth.
„Did you see him?“
„Yes. Next to that black male... B... Jorgen.“
„Gods be good! Then they're all in on it!“, Trina said, afraid that the entire complex would come for them now.
„No... no-oo-...“, Doren bawled. „No, just... just the two of us. They don't ... know...“
„He left, didn't he?“, Rihaenne asked Bulrig, then, not waiting for the reply: „Where will he go?“
„I don't... I don't know...“, Doren grunted, the pain distroting his facial features.
„Don't make us go through this again!“, Rihaenne shouted, a note of triumph and expectation in her voice.
„No... no... the bar! He might go to the bar. He knows the tender! The bar tender is the contact for a boat!“
„What bar? What boat?“
„Just here. Close. Near the docks. I can take you there. He's going to buy a ride north, to the quarry-town. He can't leave yet...“
„We're done here. Men, arrest him,“ Trina said, moving away from the chair. Adalair and Bulrig grabbed his arms, but suddenly, Bulrig felt lightheaded, and he felt the need to release him.
„Release him,“ Rihaenne said. They obeyed immediately, and no sooner was Doren free of their grasp, then he began to rise in the air.
„What are you doing? You can't hurt him anymore. He admitted...“
„Not enough,“ Rihaenne said, then made a series of quick gestures. Doren started turning horizontally, his face a mask of fear and incomprehension. Then there was a 'BANG!', and his stomach bulged and then was sucked in, as if he had gasped for air. He fell, loudly hitting the floor.

„There are two bars at the dock. Agent Trina, you will take Bulrig and go search the smaller one, while I and Aldair will search the larger one. Oh, good. You took care of the body.“
„I threw it out.“
„You...“, she blinked in surprise. „You do know that he probably burst on impact, spilling his innards across the street?“
„I heard a splash,“ Aldair said, uncaringly, looking her over insolently.
„When do we leave?“, Bulrig asked Trina.
„Now,“ Rihaenne said, looking intently at Aldair. „Go. Quickly. We will handle our business, then meet you if he isn't at our bar,“ she said, shooeing them away with her hand, then added quickly; „You wait in yours.“
Bulrig could see a sharp tilt of head, a sign of irritation, as Trina beckoned him to follow her.


„She is behaving COMPLETELY unprofessionaly... Looking for males while ON the case! Is this supposed to be the quality of new Inspectors?“, Trina asked him while they were making their way towards the docks, down the steps of the Male Compound; a hill where predominantly unmarried males lived their lives between marriages, working, sleeping, fighting and eating; trying to keep their bodies presentable for weekends, and saving money, so some family might pick them for a mate.
„I don't... No?“, he said, uncertain. What Inspectors? What was that, anyway? They were marching quickly, few steps at a time, her mighty ass muscles pumping angrily before him.
„Oh, I don't want YOUR opinion, you stupid male,“ she said.
„They'll have sex?“, he asked.
„Yes. I think so. I told her not to, that it's forbidden, that if anyone finds out... But will she listen? No,“ she sighed. „Gods. What an alph'ara... I'd just want to lick her all over that perfect body... and powerful too! You saw the magic she's capable off,“ she said, grabbing the air in front her as if Rihaenne's butt stood there. Bulrig felt himself stiffen. The thought of having sex with those two women; one hard and smooth, the other plump and curvy... He realised he was going to spend the entire morning erect, and that would be no good if Greyard resisted arrest.
„Then we should, too. Have sex. To spite them.“
„Please,“ she snorted the answer, „With my alph'ara at home, I can get a much better male than you. I might even get Aldair; he could certainly use the direction of an experienced family. But I'm afraid not even my Poeira can match Rihaenne. No wonder she's a 'rising star', or whatever they called her.“
He stood still for a while, anger welling up inside him. She realised he wasn't moving, so she turned around and walked to him.
„Angry? I don't care: get moving, dog!“, she barked at him. He dared not resist; he COULDN'T resist her demands.
They spent a while in grim silence, he still steaming about the slight to his manhood, she lost in her own thoughts. Aldair, Aldair, Aldair, the whole time since they started investigating this as a group. He WAS an impressive male, Bulrig had to admit, but having been married over five times, with several children running around somewhere in the world, the fact that he was completely in this pup's shadow was very unpleasant. It made him feel... gods; impotent! He hadn't felt that in... a very long time. Since I've lost that job at... Well, I'm gonna finish this one. I must talk her into going to the other bar while they're having fun. If me and her catch the bastard, we'll be the ones to become impectors!
„You will probably have to fight him,“ she told him, as they were crossing the street that separated the Male Compound hill from the plain level next to the river.
„Why so?“
„Think. How did he mana... Oh, I forgot I was talking to a male. Obviously he has some way of ignoring our pheromones...“
„What?“
„The... the 'scented air'? Which is stupid, since it's not scented, but what do you care, right? The point is... can you beat him?“
„Yes. You just watch. This male isn't all that bad, you know?“
She cast him a disdainful gaze, then moved across the street; Bulrig frowned, looking at his own body. He was a five hundred seventy pound muscled beast of a male. Sure, there were probably many better ones. But they enjoyed the privilege of training on Agema, whereas he had to make do with Miridian food.
Trina was moving fast, dodging between all the male workers carrying heavy loads to and from the ships. Among them were scattered a few zun'ya overseers, and even a few wealthy alph'aras moved around; probably ship owners, or merchant families overseeing their investments. The reason accidents happen at work, Bulrig thought, angry at their long, bared legs in high heels that accentuated their curves. All the males were looking at them... Have gods been intentionally cruel to make us so crazy about them?, Bulrig wondered, forcing himself not to lust on the street. At a distance from him, he saw two males ram into each other; they weren't looking where they were going, too busy oggling at alph'aras.
Trina struck him, lightly, then pointed at a building in a small street which ran towards the docks.
„Watch where you're walking. Or are you trying to kill me? There's the bar. Let's go in. Be ready...“


Aldair:

Jorgan staggered backwards. He struck with his fist, but Aldair ducked, went in, and rammed his knee into his stomach. The male of at least five hundred and fifty pounds, flew through the air, hitting the wall behind him at high speed. The wall crumbled a bit; at least two of the bricks fell down on top of Jorgan, as his legs gave out, and he sat on the floor, clutching his abs.
„This is a children's game...“, Aldair growled, his voice hoarse and deep. Rihaenne approached him, her long, straight legs moving sinously with the grace of a serpent, pausing, as if hesitating slightly, with each step.
He felt her nails dig into his buttocks, and her teeth bite his triceps hard, before she licked it, in passing. She moved to the other side, tracing her fingernails across his broad muscled back. Aldair felt the shiver of excitement course through him like a powerful charge of electricity. I'll show her to tease me like that... Gods she'll scream...
„Finish it,“ she said, as Jorgan rose to his feet, and violently shook his head. Aldair smiled at her. I'll show her what I can do... He was enjoying the sense of power beating this large man gave him. He couldn't compare; as strong as Jorgan was, he wasn't a warrior. His strenght was all show; and when he rushed him, like a bull, Aldair showed him why this was a bad idea.
„Don't make too much of a mess,“ she had told him, after calling Jorgan up and telling him to attack Aldair. Rihaenne wanted to see just how good of a fighter he was; „You are so strong...“, she purred into his ear as he ripped the copper chair apart, „It makes me want to do things to you...“, and then she bit his muscled neck. No mess; but whatever furniture there had been standing after Doren affair, now lay in splinters. Jorgan's head made two holes in the wall as he rammed him through it, and was bleeding profusely. Still, egged on by the alph'ara's commands Jorgan was ready for more punishment. Mirmidones, in any case, were almost impossible to kill.
He moved forward, but Aldair didn't wait. His enormous quad twitched, and his lethal kick struck Jorgan's muscled thigh. Another, immediately, faster then human eyes could follow, as he shifted his weight from the other leg, and kicked him to the head, fast and light. Another!, as he hit him into Jorgan's left leg, again, and then; finish.
He jumped, and kicking with both feet, struck Jorgan squarely into the chest. Jorgan grunted loudly, and flew back into the wall, almost buried between the disloged bricks. Sand from between the walls started pouring into the room.
Jorgan used his elbows, trying to push himself out, but his shoulders were stuck. One by one, he jerked them out, but Aldair was back on his feet; already moving.
„Gods!“, he heard Rihaenne's horny yell, as he was propelled by his massive tree-trunk legs; steel hard muscles coiled and his six hundred pounds of muscle flew the distance of several feet, the top of his head hitting Jorgan's abs, and the wall gave way.
He felt the insignificant impacts as bricks fell down on them both, and knew Jorgan was helpless now.
„Hey THERE!“, a shout came as he started rising, shaking the sand from his shoulders and out of his black mane. Aldair rose to his full height, seven feet and five inches of solid steel muscles, towering over some pathetic male who shouted at him indignantly. He didn't hear his words; but he was angered. Who was this worm? What was he to a Beorn's Own?!
„What do you want from me, now!?“, the male asked, fear nascent in his eyes.
„Die!“, he shouted, and approached the male. Seeing him approach, the male yelped in fear, and threw a punch in defense. Forgetting about Jorgan in the rush of masculine potency that he felt, Aldair jumped at his opponent, faster through air than his foe's fist, putting his knee forward; he hit the pathetic man squarely in the chest.
This male, however, was nothing compared to Jorgan. Seven feet and barely a few inches, malnourished and poorly muscled, he flew back into the wall, Aldair closely following. Rebounding from the wall, his feeble opponent started toppling over forward, but Aldair caught his throat, and rammed him standing back into the wall. He held him with his left arm, since the poor bastard couldn't stand on his own, and started punching vehemently with his right. BAM, BAM, BAM! he struck: stomach, chest and then jaw, and let him go with his left. As he pounded him against the wall, feeling unstoppable, he took a step back, readying his enormous leg for another strike. He rammed him, the large head of his knee cap breaking the bone-stomach arches, the male screamed in agony; blood spurted from his mouth, spraying Aldair's face, and he smirked in triumph. The sane part of him was asking: Who is this male? Why am I hurting him?, but the rush of power as Rihaenne looked on trying to see if he was a worthy mate, took over his mental faculties. He turned his head away, disgusted at the blood, and then grabbed the man's arm over his shoulder, turned and threw him across the room. His large body rebounded across the floor like a rag doll thrown by a human child.
Jorgan was still conscious, trying to get up, weakly. Aldair ran across the room, and volleyed him into the wall again. Tenant of this room was rising, bloody and beaten, but in a better shape then the black man. Aldair saw his leg close by, and grabbed it, pulling him closer, mercilessly. The man yelled in pain, weakly, as Aldair put his foot on the back of his left leg, raising his ankle in the steel pincer of his palm; he could break his leg now, but Aldair waited. He looked back, to see Rihaenne, naked, her luscious lips parted, her chest rising and falling as she drew heavy breaths, taking in this majestic beast with all the senses.
Rihaenne approached him, entranced by the wicked play the sinews of his muscled arm played under his skin. She noticed how massive his tricep looked even deceptively relaxed as it was now. The soft skin hid the harder stuff below, flexing beneath the oily sleek surface, giving of heat. What a male he is, she thought, standing small beneath his predatory blue gaze. Alarm grew in her chest, but she couldn't stop this; the little squirts of warmth she felt when he shifted his leather clad muscled ass were overwhelming her sense of duty, or fear of law.
„Do it... Show me how strong you are!“, Rihaenne said, tracing her hands around the smooth ridges and tight curves, as they expanded and coiled with power coursing through them, vibrating in exertion, as Aldair tried to break the strongest bones in this poor insufficient male's body. Aldair was still looking at her, his face now contorted in effort, but not a grunt came through; the little male, however, was screaming in agony... they almost missed the sound when his thigh bones became disjointed... crack!
Aldair roared in triumph, thumping his chest: Jorgan lay on the floor, clutching his ribs impotently; the tenant wasn't moving except to clutch the desk leg, less in any vain attempt to get up, and more to try to crawl away from his monstrously powerful assailant. Enough of them, Aldair thought, then turned to Rihaenne.
Her long legs spread over the rubble, the the shift of weight showcasing the slight musculature; he ached to have them wrap around his butt. Her light brown skin shining in the light of the sun, as if oiled, surrounded in the golden glow of floating sand dust. She had short jet black hair which framed a stunningly beautiful female face; large dark eyes, small nose hanging gracefully above thick rosy red lips parted in feminine allure, beckoning him forward.
As he obeyed their call, the lips were licked slowly by shy pink tongue; suddenly he wanted to meet it, wrestle it to submission with his own. His sensitive nose already felt how wet she was getting, and the odour of her arousal made him growl and breathe heavily. His muscles in the pelvis released his penis back outside the body, realising combat has finished and a new role was coming. She saw him bulge and her eyes widened; she backed away, alarmed by the size, by the painfull-sweet prospect of him riding her. You played with fire, Rihaenne thought, as her breathing got faster and faster. „Jorgan, stop him!“, she said to the man.
He lunged, feebly, of the floor, aiming for Aldair's midriff as his nemesis put his arm on the wall, completely oblivious to anything but his burning desire. Jorgan ended bumping face first into the steel taught, enormous slab of meat that was Aldair's quad. Aldair lowered his arm, stopped for a moment, as Rihaenne gained precious ground in her slow retreat, and grabbed his foe's skull. He pressed as hard as he could, his tricep swelling in size.
„No one can stop me,“ Aldair said as Jorgan grasped at his arm. Then he moved the black male's skull, ramming it against his prepared quad, shattering the broken fighter's nose in the process.
His hand stretched out, grabbing for her dress where the hollow between her ample breasts, but she moved away, her smile dissapearing.
„No! Don't break it!“, she said, undressing, uncaring for her fallen defender, who had given his last in vain. Aldair couldn't wait for her to finish, that slim waist moved on beautifully wide hips; and silky taut stomach drove anything else from the mind. Then the dress went overhead, and her breasts spilled in all their glorious roundness. He noticed how hard her nipples were, and opened his mouth, already tasting the sweet, sweet feeling. His manhood finally burst the string that kept the loincloth, and he stood naked before her in all his masculine glory. As her head got free, he grabbed between her legs, and pulled her close.
„Aaahh... Gods yo...“, their bodies connected, and he felt the hot rod of pure lust and need course through him. Her hands rubbed his massive chest muscle as he grabbed her ass, covering it entirely with his massive palm. And then the other hand grazed her shoulder and started rubbing her small back; he wanted to touch her, all of her, at the same time, wanted more of her, wanted and needed to be inside her; there was nothing else in his mind. Only silky smoothness of her skin, her warmth, and her taste, as his tongue started exploring her lips, then slipped into her mouth.
She squirmed, trying to move his enormous manliness away from her stomach, the iron shaft thrusting into her belly. But stroking and slapping it away only made it more hungry; he grabbed her ass and lifted her, lowering her savagely.
Rihaenne grabbed his enormous shoulders, digging her nails in, and screaming as he filled her, completely.
„Gods you're taut...“
„AaaRhh... You magnificent BASTARD! Aaaaarh!“, she screamed as he lowered her, inch by unbelievable inch; and then more. Finally she was to low to bite his chin, but some remaining part of her sanity made her want to stop screaming in ecstasy; she bit the skin of his pec muscle, hard, and he grunted, more in pleasure than pain, as he started lifting her up and lowering her down. His head began to vibrate inside her, making her voice tremble with every stroke and every vibration.
„AwwwhhAAAWw Aawwa aaaHhh!“, she mumbled, hanging on his shoulders for dear life as his pelvis began to pump too, as if of it's own accord, her ass bumping hard against his rock hard thighs, as he tilted forward, trying for a position that would let him have more of her, more and more and more, unsatiably.
Stop, stop, why ever stop? It took him awhile to realise she was shouting that; she needed him to stop. His penis started burning, until the pain could no longer be ignored. He pushed her away, letting her drop to the floor.
„Arrgh... Gods' balls!“, he shouted profanities, as the universe started coming back to him. She was staggering, clutching her cunt, walking drunkenly, as if just learning to walk.
„Listen!“, she shouted.
He shook his head, trying to understand what it meant, the words she was saying...
„Doren! DO-REN! Gods, get out of there! Doren you bastard! They have Greyard!“
„Doren's gone!“, a man shouted. Four, five, ten maybe; the inhabitants of the complex hadn't given them privacy. They must have smelt her lust, he thought, still dizzy from the loss of blood.
„Quiet!“, she snapped at the audience. Gods, I didn't even notice them, he thought, before anger seized him. These idiots were to blame. Just as he was savouring the fruits of his victory, her voluptuous body... Rage overcame him; his penis shrunk immediately, as the pelvis muscles drew it in, behind bones, so it wouldn't get hurt in combat. He felt the other two hearts start pumping again, and his hand started shaking, as hormones took control of his powerful limbs.
He ran at the group surrounding the doors.
„It's the bar tender from the docks, Your Honour...“, one of them answered Rihaenne, a question Aldair didn't hear, before Aldair charged him. He grabbed him, picking him up, bodily, and threw him from the balcony that stood before the apartment. Hitting them like a hurricane, one, two, three, he started chucking them off; they fell down, together with the railing.
„Aldair, NO! Stop!“, Rihaenne yelled, but it was out of the question.
There was more then ten of them, he realised: it seemed the entire complex had gathered in front of their apartment. They returned his attack; someone hit him on the head, the other one slammed his leg into his stomach, and he was flying through the railings. Aldair grabbed at his attackers, pulling two of them with him.
They all fell, two stories down, landing on those who came that way before. Upside down, Aldair saw the bar tender, and then the packed earth hit him. His breath got taken away from him, and impact rattled him like no blow he had ever felt before. He heard one of his tendons snap, a sharp pain that made him realise someone fell on his foot. But others were more fortunate in their landing. A shadow came over him, and when his vision cleared a moment later, he realised it was a large man.
Then a massive fist slammed into his mouth, and broke several of his teeth. Someone kicked him in the head, and his head lolled, his muscles helpless at first to control the movement. Then another hit, from the other side, and someone else was pummeling his ribs. BAM!, another shot hit him in the nose, and it squirted blood. His jaw snapped at the attacker, biting the man's fist, and he clamped down, heard a shout of pain, as his mouth filled with blood. BAM!, another strike, and he lost the grip, just as he felt the bones of his foe's knuckles.
Aldair tried turning onto his side, hoping he could somehow get out of this nasty position, but he failed. Finally, he jerked his abs, pulling himself upright, slamming his forehead into his foe's pelvis. The man staggered back, Aldair blocking kicks to his head by putting his massive arms around his head. Then he pushed his torso back, using the momentum to give more force to his legs. He hit the one on top in the back, the kick pushing him over Aldair's head in the opposite direction. He twirled his massive legs, allowing the momentum to jerk his body up, still fighting off kicks.
As he jumped to his feet, his body core muscles jerking all six hundred pounds into air, he avoided a large, bulky male who had jumped down from the balcony and landed where his head was a moment ago, smashing both his knees into the ground with an thundering boom.
There were seven of them, all more or less unharmed by the fall, and he set about them, undaunted by the fierce blows. Aldair rolled forward, and mid-roll used his arms like springs. Both his legs struck out, as he propelled himself into two of the rearmost attackers. They crashed into the wall, and Aldair turned.
The group had spread out, he noticed... he also noticed a man in armour wielding an enormous bat. Too late to do anything about it, he thought, raising his arms in vain, as the massive iron head smashed his skull, and he fell on the floor. Dizzy and almost blind, he felt himself flung across the ground. His neck cracked as he tilted his head. One of the columns was surely broken, he realised.
„He is an Agent of the State, and so am I! I demand that you present yourself!“, he heard Rihaenne's voice.
„Not now. Djar! Throw that thing! TAKE HIM DOWN!“, a woman's voice thundered.
„Yes, now! Never you mind the bar tender.“
„Lady, you're interferring with police business, and I'll deal with you later. Restrain her.“
As his vision cleared, he saw the bar tender climb the sheer wall of the complex. A man in police uniform followed him, but in vain. Useless, he thought, and started raising himself up, intent on catching the man.
„You are interferring with the business of the State! I am your superior...“, he heard Rihaenne shout angrily.
A kick felled him.
„Stay down! Djar. Get over here. You and Roban will restrain this man until his status is determined.“
„We are Agents of ...“
„Yes, you said. Where are your credentials?“
„I d... Up stairs.“
„Up stairs? Silence that male, Reddian! Go get them, then.“
„No. I will not. I am an Agent of the State. Release him, and he will fetch them. Just so you know, you are interfeering with a very important case, and will be severly punished for this.“
Propped up by two muscular armored men armed with axes, Aldair had started wiping the top of his head, which was bleeding profusely. His head was tilted to the side, so luckily it wasn't going into his eyes, but unluckily this meant that one of his three neck columns was broken.
„Not that important. This one says they were having sex up there.“
„Shut your mouth until I tell you otherwise, Reddian; I told you not to speak to them. You will get fifty lashes for this, you piece of shit.“
Aldair was pushed away at the order of this gruff zun'ya, a Police comesar, and he started climbing the stairs towards the appartment.
„My papers are somewhere next to the chair,“ Rihaenne told him, her face livid from embarrasement.
„Beorn's Guard? Not tough as they're said to be,“ he heard one of the policemales say, from the courtyard, as he made another turn up the staircase. Another malnourished male was looking at him, someone who had stayed on the balcony. He retreated, but Aldair wasn't in the best mood. He moved closer to the wall, and then struck him with his foot.
„AAAAAaaar... Ourhg!“, he heard, as the man hit the ground. The excitement this caused in the courtyard died down when he returned out.
„So, you are the ones investigating this Greyard fellow? And you think that killing civilians and having sex in their rooms is the way to catch this sick son of a bitch?“, he overheard as he approached the two women, who had walked away from the males, whispering to each other.
„I will not be held accountable by you!“, hissed Rihaenne.
„Will see, young miss. Ah, but here comes your large pet,“ the officer retorted.
„The belt buckle,“ Rihaenne demanded. Aldair handed it to her. She placed it around her stomach. Nothing happened, but apparently this was sufficient reason for the comesar to shift uncomfortably.
„Now that you have wasted our time... Give me your name and rank,“ Rihaenne said, bringing herself to her full height, and moving invasivly into the comesar's face.
„Nishka, lieufema, Dockyards district,“ she said, squeezing her jaw tight in anger.
„Good. I will remember that. And your superiors will hear of thi...“
„No they won't. You and I both know that what you did here was well out of line. You couldn't control yourself; saw a nice piece of muscled ass and had to have it. In the process you needlessly almost killed several civilians! Do not interupt me...“
She did though. Rihaenne was hissing madly, cursing the woman and threatening. The argument stopped immediately; Rihaenne's hand was putting out sparks again. Nishka, a stern but good looking older zun'ya paled.
„Are you threatening me?“
„Yes.“
There was a stunned silence, the zun'ya weighing her options, but Rihaenne didn't wait.
„I know what you're thinking. But I can turn you into a puddle in a moment; he can smash your head in two... And do you really think I... will have any problems dominating them?“, she thumbed at the other policemales who were shaping the tenants into a line.
„Your superiors wouldn't tolerate killing...“
„They would in this case. Stopping me from catching a family murder? You'd be lucky if they don't kill you yourself. Certainly they'd throw you out; dishonour you and send you out of work. And if that doesn't do...“, Rihaenne leaned closer, whispering even less audibly: „I'm also fucking Prince Royal Jon himself.“
Nishka stepped away.
„So... young, beautiful, a powerful sorceress and with a license to kill... Gods, why is it always me who ends up butting heads with nider's?“, Nishka summarised, pale and no longer defiant. Aldair's shoulder cast a shadow over her face; he thought he could see a glint of tears in her eyes.
„You left out a few, but yes. You would do well to apologise.“
„Anything else... Your Honour?“, the woman asked, all the fight gone from her.
„Yes. Get your men and follow us to the bar. We have to wrap this business up...“