Warrior of The Chevaan

Second Interlude

The Waters of Desire

Her body scourged by the whips cruel caress, oblivious to the fresh horrors her captors were engineering for her behalf, Conine's unconscious mind wandered, seeking solace in the recent past. The harsh present ebbed away, and again she was far from the Roman dungeon…

Then

Conine allowed herself to relax in the waters of the mountain lake. The sun was warm on her skin but a cool breeze, chilled by the water of the rivers bed by the snow on the heights above, prevented her form becoming to warm. The athletically built Chevaan warrior had shed her armour and other raiments, and now let herself enjoy the simple pleasure of the lake-water, mist from the nearby waterfall, and heat of the sun all playing over her tanned, naked from.

Though her eyes were closed, however, her mind was still alert, considering the difficulties of eluding the men that hunter her and her companion. The Roman army that had broken the Chevaan women's forces a fortnight ago was still sweeping through the hills looking for stragglers of its enemies. Fuelled by their ancient loathing of the independent and self-willed women warriors, the Romans were determined to see every one of the Chevaan west of the Mountains dead or in chains. The spot Conine had chosen to rest in was secluded and safe from such searches, but the black haired beauty knew that eventually she and Satyra must leave and find more permanent safe-haven elsewhere.

Thinking of her new friend Conine felt again the strange flutterings that had accompanied her almost since she had first rescued the lovely priestess from the Roman soldiers who had captured and brutally raped her, once she had recovered from the initial shock of the priestess' true appearance after the glamour that had concealed her nature had fled with her consciousness after her ordeal. Conine had been certain the lovely acolyte would not survive the night, so serious had been the abuse she had suffered at her captor's hands, but Satyra had recovered from her ordeal with miraculous speed. Within a day she had been strong enough to travel, and by a week she was able to walk unassisted, though she did not decline Conine's generous offers of help in traversing the steep mountain paths. Once the copper-haired priestess had pushed herself to far too soon and Conine had had to carry her up the steep slopes until they were in a place of better cover.

The memory of the feel of the girl's supple body nestled in her arms , rather than being one of toil, was a pleasant remberance of gentle intimacy, as were the memories of Satyra's from snuggled against her own on the nights when the air grew chill and the tow could not risk the light of a fire to warm themselves with.

As her thoughts travelled such times Conine found her hand moving lightly over her full breasts, imaging the feel of Satyra own oft palm cupping the full globe as they huddled in the dark. The priestess had shown no sign of similar stirrings, a fact Conine attributed to the horrible degradation the gentle beauty had suffered during her capture, and of course the warrior had not pressed the issue. She felt her heart brimming with a combination of pity and fury as she thought of the young priestess pinned beneath the thrusting weight of the Roman swine. She wanted to express her feelings more fully, more physically, but Conine would not allow her desires to come before the well being of her charge. So she endured the sting of her frustrated passion stoically, using the times when she was alone like this to allow her mind and hands to vent her womanly needs without forcing herself on her recovering friend.

Lying back against the smooth, cool rocks that lined the shore of the lake, Conine allowed her fingers to play lightly over the curve of her breast, brushing against the rosy nipple and stirring it to hardness. As the nubbin firmed she took it gently between her finger and thumb, twisting and pinching, behind her long lashes imagining the feel of Satyra's hands cupping her bosom instead of her own. Conine's other hand left her side and the fingers traced small circles over her belly, round her navel. Instinctively her legs fell apart a little more as the centre of her womanliness warmed with awakened needs. The fingers brushing her firm abdomen quested lower, dabbling in the water damp thatch between her thighs. A small moan escaped her lips as she imagined the gorgeous acolyte straddling her, the pressure of their two centres rubbing gently together as her body began to gyrate softly against the hand cupping her pouting mons.

'Conine?' Satyra's voice snapped like a bowstring in the warrior's ears, jerking her from her interlude. Conine glanced about fearfully, panicked by the thought that her companion had seen her self-indulgence, though among her own seasoned companions the tall Chevaan had been know to partake in far more tawdry entertainments to break the occasional monotony of the war-camp. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Satyra was not in sight, then quickly composed her self as she heard her moving around the rocks to Conine's resting place.

Moments later, as Conine still fought to suppress the last of her thwarted yearnings the acolyte arrived, climbing slowly around the rocks that formed the shore of the pool. Like the warrior woman she was naked, and Conine fought the desire to let her gaze linger over her companions unclad form. Satyra was as tall as Conine herself, her slightly less tanned form lithe without being skinny. Long well formed legs tapered up to a trim waist and flat belly. She was long bodied, athletic as were most of her people, with full round breasts that jiggled slightly as she picked her way down to the water with a natural grace, stepping lightly from foothold to foothold. Her shoulders were partially hidden by the cascade of fiery red hair that foamed down over her back and framed a face of almost unearthly beauty, a appraisal that was emphasized by her white-less, emerald green eyes and the two ivory white rams horns that curled outward just above her ears on either side of her head.

Conine's blue eyes lingered on those supernatural features, remembering that initial surprise. She had heard of pairings with the woodland spirits producing such offspring, but had never actually beheld one before Satyra. The deeply instilled reverence of her people for the ancient dwellers of tree and stream stirred in her again, only serving to increase her discomfort at her sensual musings.

Making a little leap down the remaining distance between them, the strange yet radiant young Chevaan came to stand by the water's edge. Her voice, when she spoke, was strong yet musical. 'This place is wonderful,' she said with a beaming smile. 'May I join you?' Conine felt a surge of warmth rising inside her, but kept her face calm and her voice level. 'Of course,' she smiled back. 'I would have invited you, but I had thought the journey had wearied you.'

Satyra stepped into the water and gave a little shiver as she adjusted to the temperature. 'It's delicious,' she said, and waded out til the water was lapping at her thighs. 'So cold,' she said with a giggle of excitement. 'I had forgotten how cold the mountain streams were at this time of the year.' Watching Satyra wade about getting used to the chill waters of the pool, secretly pleased at the effect it had on her friends anatomy, particularly about in the area of her ample chest, Conine leaned back and floated in the rippling pool, her head held just above the water. 'Did you used to live in the highlands, then?'

'Oh, all over,' was the casual reply. The acolyte's fingertips brushed the water as she sung her arms back and forth in lazy arcs. 'Before I was taken to be educated by the Priestesses I travelled from the mountains through the forests and up and down the length of the great rivers. It wasn't until I reached my thirteenth year that my mother took me to the Sacred Circle, and by that time I had walked every trail there was from the slopes of Mount Kilarsis to the edge of the Western Wilds. Or at least, I thought I had,' she added, glancing around. 'This place must be a great secret, for me never to have found it before.'

'It is, right enough,' Conine answered. 'The warrior sisters have a few such refuges which we alone keep. They are known only among a few of us for times such as this, when every mouth that can talk of a hiding place is a threat to our sister's survival.'

Satyra eyes grew haunted and she shuddered at Conine's words. 'Once I would have answered proudly that no priestess would ever betray our sisterhood, whatever the cost. But now…' Voice trailed off as she remembered her own to brutal encounter with Roman cruelty.

Seeing the pain in her friend's eyes, Conine moved closer and took her hand gently. 'Tell me of the ways of the Priestesses,' she said, changing the subject. 'Though we of the warriors venerate your calling, and through you the Goddess, these days of strife have left us few opportunities to study the gentle ways. You said you joined the Circle at thirteen.'

'Yes,' Satyra answered with a small smile. 'My mother thought it time, though I would nave happily remained a child of the forest. But once I entered the circle I came to understand the beauty of serving the Goddess, eventually.'

'Eventually?'

'Well, yes. Much of the early learnings in the circle are about understanding yourself, centring yourself. My nature back then was…rather more wild. It took time for me to learn to find my centre. And…' Satyra paused a looked a little uncomfortable.

'Yes,' said Conine, intrigued.

'Even among our sisters there are some who take time to get used to,' Satyra paused again and ran her hand over the curl of her left horn, 'something so different.'

Conine moved closer to the young priestess. She had avoided examining the curling horns to closely previously, except when her companion was sleeping. She had thought it would have appeared rude. But now that Satyra herself had broached the subject she felt she could reveal her curiosity. Gently she reached out a hand, then asked the young acolyte 'May I?'

Satyra looked at her for a moment as if she were hesitant, but then her face softened. She reached out and took Conine's wrist and guided her fingers to the looping horn, tracing its outline.

Conine let her fingers explore. The horn was smooth, with slight ridges banding its breadth from end to end except for its slightly hollowed underside that was perfectly smooth. As she ran her fingers around the groove behind Satyra stiffened and giggled. Conine smiled and looked at her in surprise. 'It tickles,' Satyra said, and Conine laughed softly herself. Moving her hand she pushed back the lush curling hair to reveal two swept back ears, slightly pointed. Her fingers traced the shell-like outline of the ear. Closing her eyes Satyra relaxed and 'Mmmmmm'd softly.

Conine leaned a little closer, captivated by the half-satyr's exotic beauty. She was completely unprepared for Satyra's hand dipping down behind her back and scooping up the chill lake water to empty over her head and back.

The shock of the chilly water after her body had accustomed itself t the warmer air sent shivers up the warrior's spine. She yelped aloud even as Satyra laughed again and stepped back, using her other hand to splash more water over Conine's front. Cursing playfully the warrior lunged forward, wetting her playmate and chasing her round the knee-deep water, both women laughing like girls playing truant. Diamond-like drops sparkled on their smooth skin and their eyes shone. Finally Conine made a leaping catch and seized Satyra by the hand, quickly bringing her round to face her until they stood grappling at arms length, finger intertwined while they shifted their weight back and forth t try and gain advantage.

'Do you yield,' Conine asked with a smile, feeling the strain on Satyra's well-toned arms. Both women were panting from their exertion, their breasts rising and falling rhythmically. Satyra only smiled a little more widely, then suddenly stepped forward with a speed that left Conine stunned. Forcing back Conine's arms almost without effort she stooped low and gathered the warrior woman up below the waist, then hoisted her bodily into the air.

Held aloft by her smaller companion Conine looked down in amazement. Satyra had lifted her so only her toes were touching the water, supporting her 6' mass as easily as if she had been a small child. Her hands rested on the priestess' shoulders, but Conine could tell that even without that aid Satyra would have been perfectly capable of balancing her over her head.

Smirking just a little at her friends surprise Satyra spoke. 'A gift of my father he bestowed when he planted me in my mothers womb. I told you I used to be wild.' Conine brushed her raven tresses away form her face as she caught her breath. 'You have muscles like that, and you became a priestess?' she asked.

Satyra shrugged, still holding Conine up without effort. 'The strength I have is borrowed form the land, and needs replenishing quickly. I wasn't strong enough to outrun my pursuers when you found me, after using my powers to heal our sisters form the battle.

'So how long can you hold me?' Conine asked .

'Oh, quite some time,' Satyra said with a wicked little grin. Her hands clamped onto Conine's thighs kneaded softly.

'Well, you should put me down anyway,' Conine said. 'There's a breeze up here.'

'As you like,' Satyra answered, pulling her in close and relaxing her grip. Conine slid down slowly, feeling her knees pressing against the priestesses chest, then the arc of those two ripe mounds rubbing over her belly and ribs, finally feeling the squeeze against her own peaks as she slipped down chest to chest with the horned acolyte. Her own hands reached round to circle Satyra' back. The two all-green eyes gazed back up at her, setting a heat smouldering in her breasts and loins. Finally Conine wriggled down the rest of the way, her feet touching the sandy bottom of the pool by the warrior making no attempt to step free of her friends embrace. The two women stood facing each other, drinking in the feel of their bodied meshed so close together that they were aware of every dip and curve. Through the satyr woman's smooth skin Conine could feel her heart beating wildly and it filled her with joy to know that her touch could thrill Satyra as much as the feel of the priestesses body aroused her.

For an endless moment the two beauties stood together while the sound of the waterfall rose and fell in the background. Slowly their heads dipped forward. Conine felt the need to taste her partner like a fire in her belly but was terrified a sudden movement might ruin the moment. When their full lips finally touched it was with the gentleness of a butterflies wings, but the warrior woman felt a shock pas through her entire being. Nestled against she felt Satyra's body experience a similar thrill. The priestess extended a furtive tongue, playing across Conine's moist lips until at last the raven-haired gladiatrix opened her mouth fully and returned Satyra's kiss with passion. Small moans came from each woman as their mouths worked with vigour, lapping, pressing, sucking. Their arms struggled to draw each other closer so that their firm smooth bodies were crushed together in a rapture of desire. Breast mashed breast, thigh rubbed against thigh, and between their long legs two tufts of hair, one jet black midnight and the other ginger fire, ground against each other as the heated mounds they covered sought to become one.

At last the need to breathe overrode even these consuming desires and the women broke their kiss, though their bodies remained solidly clutched together. The sharp intakes of breath pressed their swelling mammaries even harder together. Starring at her companion Conine saw a need kindled in those luminous green eyes that matched her own, coupled with a worldliness that would have rivalled that of any of the hardened warrior women with whom she had shared herself in the camps of her sisters. Satyra's hands quested down over her clenched buttocks and fought to draw Conine even harder against the half-satyr's quim, a seething cleft of hot juices that Conine could feel dampening her own pubic tuft. It was clear that the studies of the ways of the Goddess had by no means robbed Satyra of all her wildness, a fact for which Conine offered up her own silent prayer of thanks.

A wicked smile stole across Satyra's lovely face as their two centres pressed firmly together. 'Is that the effect of my kiss, Conine, or are you still wet from playing with yourself earlier?'

Conine blushed as she smiled, and let her own hands reach up to cup the underside of Satyra' bulging breast. 'Spying on a warrior can be very dangerous,' she declared, rolling the nubbin of the curving mound between her fingers.

'I can handle such danger,' came the breathy reply.

The two women's lips met again, and Satyra's soft tongue slipped deftly into Conine's waiting mouth, laving her own pink member with a subtle sensuality that promised untold pleasure when it was directed elsewhere in the near future.

Instinctively taking the initiative, Conine leaned into the kiss, easing her lover back against the smooth rocks around the water's edge, slipping one lithe leg between Satyra's thighs and using it to grind softly but purposefully against her sex. Satyra continued the embrace as she eased the two of them over to a pebbled stretch of flat shoreline. She kneeled, Conine followed suit, all the while their hungry lips alternately pressed together or delivering a barrage of feathery kisses across each others eyes, cheeks, neck and shoulders, punctuated with a melody of moans and sighs.

As the acolyte settled on the damp bed of smooth pebbles, Conine pushed her back gently, her hand running down over her throat and collar to fondle the ample swell of smooth flesh making up Satyra's heaving bosoms. The girl's breasts quivered with delight at the attention of her fingers, tweaking the rounded nipples and gently squeezing the ripe tit-flesh. Conine felt the fire burning in her own flushed love-mounds. Her head arched down to take the tip of one of those rearing pinnacles in her mouth, and she was rewarded with deep-centred groan as her tongue flicked and laved the hard button while she fought to suck as much of that sweet softness as she could between her wide-spread lips.

Feeling the rapture of Conine's mouth suckling her firm young tit left the gorgeous satyr women undulating in pleasure. The muscles of her thighs and calves rippled as they took the weight of her rearward-arched form, while her hands and fingers ran through Conine's raven tresses as she pressed the warrior more forcefully against her chest.

Intoxicated by her partner's feel and smell Conine showered affection of Satyra's bounteous breast while her hand reached up to forcefully knead the it's twin. Her head flung back, the sounds of sexual abandon issuing from the acolytes smiling ruby lips left Conine in no doubt her ministrations were being well received. Slowly Satyra sank back against the moist sands as the women's bodies continued the undulating rhythm.

Her heart hammering against her ribs, Conine moved her lips from her partners quivering teat and slid her tongue south across the stretch of flat midriff towards the curling bush covering the young priestesses inmost being. Conine was hardly surprised by the heat radiating from that soft pink mound. Fingers trained to grip the hard lethal weight of the broadsword now gently coaxed that moistening slit until with a sigh from their mistress the lips parted to expose the hot pink interior. Moving with the surety that only another woman could know for what her lover wanted Conine dipped her head forward and nuzzled into the simmering honey-pot of sexuality hovering before her.

At the first glance of Conine's lips along her parted slit Satyra felt her mind awash with unbridled desire. Everything in her and of her was a fire burning without respite, yearning uncontrollably for the touch of the muscular body belonging to the raven-haired beauty working between her legs. Conine felt as if she had left her own body and was watching the sex-play between the two of them from above, though she was still exquisitely aware of every rapturous caress. Without even knowing how she found herself off the shore and in the water with Satyra, the two of them lying in the shallows while the cool water splashed playfully over their wriggling forms. Satyra raised up an exquisitely tapered leg to reveal the splayed furnace of her femininity, and Conine used her fingers to burrow into that dampened copper crested cleft and evoke small sounds of passion form her lover. Looking up the length of the acolyte's perfect form the warrior woman could see her lovely companion cradling one soft orb in her hand, lifting it to use her won tongue to circle the hardened nipple at the peak. The sight goaded her to reach down with her other hand to find her own sex, squeezing and kneading her labia almost painfully as her mouth clamped with passionate tenderness over Satyra's hot mons and her tongue squirmed like a serpent of desire within the horned girls womanhood.

Without warning Conine felt herself lifted bodily as Satyra used her mystic strength to hoist her overhead, the warrior woman pirouetting in mid-air as the groaning priestess turned her around so the twain were inverted, Conine lying atop Satyra with her head pointed down between her long legs. Rather than being intimidated by such a show of strength, Conine found it exciting. Never before had she taken a lover, man or women, who was more than her match in strength, but in Satyra she felt no competition, only respect and flaming desire. The pink tongue now working feverishly between her won legs was a sign that the move was not meant to impress or intimidate, but borne from a genuine need for the young satyr-woman to please Conine as the warrior was pleasing her.

For an endless time the two women sucked and licked at each other's vaginal opening, fingers spreading the pink lips wide as their lips and tongue played a melody of pleasure upon inner lips and gently protruding clitorises. Such levels of ecstasy could not be sustained forever, no matter how skilled the artists, and Conine felt a knot of pure rapture build within her loins, then surge outward in a sudden and uncontrollable tidal wave washing outward through her. She gasped, cried out, at the same time using her lips to squeeze Satyra's engorged love-button and twirl it masterfully until the young red-head spasmed beneath her and gave a hoarse cry of delight.

Her own need briefly assuaged, Conine twisted about, enjoying the feel of her full breasts twisting atop Satyra's tight abdomen. Face to face again the two lovers twined in each other's arms and kissed tenderly. Just the touch of the others lips and feel of their forms melding together was enough to begin a fresh bout of sexual hunger rumbling within Conine's athletic frame.

'You know,' whispered the green eyed priestess after a short time, 'there is a legend that a satyr can never be satisfied sexually.'

'Really,' Conine smiled back, intoxicated by the fires smouldering in those half-closed emerald orbs. 'A Chevaan warrior relishes a challenge.'

They kissed again, more deeply, and while they did so Satyra levered herself up. Conine followed suit until they were both standing, the chill mountain air raising goose bumps on their smooth skin and tightening their nipples to almost painful hardness. Their lips found each other again, with even greater passion, and Conine forced her young lover back against the damp stone wall of the low cliff nearby. Satyra squirmed back deliciously, braced by the rock face, and Conine drank in the feel of the priestess body squirming madly against her own. As before her hand reached down and found Satyra's still parted outer lips, then her own, and then the two were interlocked in a delightful wriggling embrace, their labias mimicking the actions being done by their sweet mouths, their hooded sex-nubs fighting to rub together like tow little tongues of passion.

Conine heard Satyra muttering softly, a low singsong chant that sent a slight shiver through her. The shiver turned to a jump as she suddenly felt something warm and firm brush her inner leg and begin questing at the opening of her crotch. With a start Conine glanced down and saw a column of water about the width of three fingers probing upwards like a liquid snake, it's rounded head pressing gently against her quim. An identical member was wriggling against Satyra's essence. The priestess was smiling mischievously and leaned froward to pur into Conine's ear 'There are many advantages to having a priestess for a lover.'

'So I can see,' Conine answered, then gasped and stiffened as she felt the liquid column wriggle inside her, pushing gently but forcefully towards her womb. The sensation was delicious, the column pulsing softly within her while the magic Satyra had used to call the serpents forth changed the chilly mountain lake into warm shafts of delight stabbing lovingly into her womanliness.

Conine began to grind Satyra with a steady rhythm and found her water snake moving to match her timing. Below the two columns moved to coil about each other, so that the movements of the two Chevaan were transferred to the magic phalluses lodged within them. Sensing the change Conine began to pump more forcefully. The feeling was extraordinary. She had used phalluses in her loving of other women before this, but those experiences could compete with the sensations she now enjoyed. As her movements pushed the interlocked members deeper into Satyra' yearning cleft they simultaneously transmitted the force to her won pulsing crotch-serpent. The effect was that she was rutting within Satyra but at the same time masturbating herself, the feeling redoubled by the fact that Satyra herself was pushing back delightfully against her thrusts. It was like being fucked by four cocks within her pussy at the same time, while her body was driven to a frenzy of excitement by the full-breasted form grinding against her own.

For the second time that day Conine felt her orgasm building to crescendo, and her thrusts became more desperate. Satyra answered the pace, and the two girls humped madly against each other; eyes locked together, nostrils flaring as they fought fro breath and made unintelligible sounds of pleasure.

Conine quickened again, and Satyra's red mouth mad an 'O' as she reached her climax, bucking furiously in the warrior's embrace.

Conine yielded to her own orgasm, grunting and thrusting with all her strength.

For almost a minute the tow beauties writhed together in the throes of passion, every muscle on their tapered flanks straining to smash their delicate tufted mounds together into a single flesh. Until finally, they slumped, exhausted, Satyra's enchanted phalluses slipping back down into the lake as the lovers sucked in air and rested in each other's arms.

After a long moment Conine reached up and brushed a sweat slick strand of golden hair form her lovers face. ' Now do you yield,' she asked with a sexy smile.

'Do you ?' a deep baritone voice off to her left. Conine's head snapped around instantly but at the same time a hand reached around and grasped Satyra by the throat. Conine moved to help her lover but a grip like steel locked on her forearm, even as the Roman soldier who had grabbed Satyra brought his short sword up to the priestess's throat.

'Well' said the Roman who had grabbed Conine, 'that was quite a show you two put on. We'll have to get you to perform it again for the general when we deliver you to his dungeons.'

Conine glared venom at the man but the sight of his half-dozen companions, all armed, killed any thought of resistance. She railed at herself furiously but was helpless to act as the Roman soldiers closed about her and Satyra, producing heavy iron shackles to adorn their gorgeous captives for the journey back to the Roman fortress.