When you shouldn't be tanking
Erlynd sat staring at the dead hulk of the undead ogre before him. It
had been a hard fight and he was breathing hard. Removing his helm, he
sought for his companion. She lay to the side where she had collapsed
when the ogre had struck her. Her chest rose and fell comfortingly. She
still breathed. Her pet, the second summoned for the fight was hovering
over her protectively.
Wiping the blood and sweat from his eyes, he groaned and crawled over
to her. Turning her gently, he pulled her unconscious form into his arms
and cradled her gently. Her wounds were grievous but not mortal. Saying
a soft prayer to his God, he calmed himself and meditated quietly for
a few moments before murmuring the words of the healing spell he cast
over himself and the elf in his arms.
The comforting heat and pain of healing flowed through his flesh, knitting
torn muscles and sealing broken skin. The elf stirred in his arms. She
opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“The stratagem worked. I knew I only had to gain its attention
She slid her arms around him and he pulled her to him for a kiss, his
relief was so great. Then it swiftly turned to anger and rising to his
feet, he pulled her up with him, grasped her arms and shook her.
“How dare you! How many times must I tell you?”
“Don’t you but Erlynd me! You could have died!”
“But I didn’t! I had to distract it for a moment so you could
Lay Hands upon yourself!”
“That is what he is for.” He pointed to the erstwhile pet.
“Well! If this is the thanks I’m going to get for saving
Her sentence was never finished as the paladin sought a convenient outcropping
of rock and turned her over his knee.
“Oh no! Don’t you dare!”
He held her tightly and pulled up her robe. He was going to teach her
a lesson and was ready to beat it into her. Shaking off his gauntlet,
he flipped up her underskirts and pulled down her panties, revealing the
firm mounds of her derriere. His hard hand came down and she squealed.
“For… the… hundredth… time… you…
are… not… a… tank!”
He punctuated each word with a hard slap to her bottom. Lyleothe squealed
and struggled, wriggling in his grasp as he struck her. But he only tightened
his grasp and continued striking her.
“Do… you… hear… me? You… are… not…
Erlynd sighed. His anger spent, he was astonished at himself. His elf
was strangely quiet. He grinned and patted the bottom he had just abused
and caressed it gently. When she made no protest, he explored, squeezing
the firm mounds gently and sliding his finders along her cleavage, following
it between her thighs. Spanking her bare bottom had aroused him and he
was in no great hurry to let her up.
He sliding a finger up her nether lips. She gasped but still made no
struggle. He found her wet, exciting him further. He stroked her, almost
idly and she squirmed.
“Be still elf. While I decide if I’m still angry.”
Lyleothe squirmed and gasped at her lover’s disturbing touch but
made no protest. Her bottom burned from his abuse. She was overly sensitized
there and his caresses had aroused her. He was stroking her clitoris gently
and sending the most disturbing pleasurable sensations up her body. She
bit her lip, trying not to cry out.
Erlynd grinned. She was fair drenching his fingers. His own sword was
pressing into her belly demanding a fair share of what his fingers were
experiencing. Lifting them his lips, he licked them off before undoing
Lyleothe grimaced. Surely he wasn’t going to stop now? She wriggled
and turned, trying to look at Erlynd and gauge his anger but the hand
on her back pressed down warningly. She subsided. This was ridiculous.
She was hot and bothered… his hard erection against her belly excited
her… her bottom burned and was waving in the clear air most indecorously.
Erlynd eyed his elf speculatively and then around the quiet wood. Would
she allow it? Well, he would find out. He had succeeded in freeing himself
with one hand while still holding her. He began to whistle tunelessly
while he reached for the knife in his holster. Her robe laced up the back.
What was he doing? He was whistling now… a sure sign of concentration.
Then she gasped again as her panties were pulled down to her knees…
then her ankles and off her legs completely.
“Erlynd?” Her voice was whisper soft. He had never behaved
in this manner before and she wasn’t sure what to do. She was thoroughly
excited, yet nervous.
“Erlynd!” He had sliced through the laces of her robe. She
heard the knife sheathed and then he was lifting her upright. Before she
could clear her hair out of her eyes, her robe was pulled down, trapping
her arms. She could feel his hot naked flesh between her legs and he was
moving against her, sending frissons of excitement racing up her veins.
His arms around her held her still while his hands pulled down her breast
coverings and cupped her breasts, his fingers playing with her nipples.
“Ohhh…” She was exposed to the cold air and yet he
was all over and all around her. He was tonguing the sensitive cords of
her neck and now, the tip of her ear. Oh, Great Mother! She writhed in
the sweet torment.
“Yes? You want something, my sweet elf?”
“Erlynd!” She moaned. “You are killing me.”
“Mmm… like you almost got yourself killed?”
“Nooo…. Not like that.”
He stilled for a moment and asked, “What are you?”
“Mmm… putty in your hands.”
“Don’t stop!” She writhed.
He resisted and asked again.
“What are you?”
He twisted her nipples between thumb and fingers in reward.
“What am I?” His breath was hot in her ear.
He chuckled at her attempts to sheath him within her.
“Not good enough.”
His breath was hot against her ear. Trapped as she was in her own clothes,
she was helpless in his arms. He moved again, teasing her with the heat
of his sword between her thighs.
“Mmmm… a paladin.”
He sheathed himself deep within her and moaned with pleasure, but held
her tight, resisting her movements.
“Now… what are you not?”
She was panting and writhing in his arms.
“I’m not going to come is what I’m not!”
He laughed and began thrusting. Oh… she was so hot… maybe
this was something he should do more often. He slid one hand between her
thighs and she screamed softly, her body tightening. With supreme control,
he stilled again.
“Nooo… don’t stop!”
“I want to hear you say it.”
She squalled with frustration.
“I am not a tank! I am not a tank! Now move it!”
With a laugh of triumph, he obeyed.
“By your command.”
And with hands, lips and body, he brought her pleasure to fruition. As
always her pleasure brought him his as her sheathe polished him with exquisite
care until she drained every drop of pleasure from him.
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