The Mare with the Black Blade

May 1st, 2018
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  2. By Laz Briar
  4. >You are the bladekeeper of the northmare Agwyn
  5. >Long have you been dutiful to her, and the titanic weapon
  6. >Months have transpired and your job is the same: care for her armaments and, by doing so, care for her
  7. >At first, you were promised to the great Brightswords of Sol Solaria, but internal conflict threw you into the service of the mare and her mercenary band
  8. >Now you spend your days at her side, administrating care to her greatsword
  9. >Today is especially important, as the mercenaries will take strike at a small camp of Solarian loyalists
  10. >Thus, you must make sure the greatsword is in fine order, along with all of Agwyn's supplies
  12. >Morning has scarcely breached the dull, grassy horizon, but you're hard at work
  13. >Within a hastily drawn tent, you've laid out the flank of obsidian metal, oiling it carefully
  14. >It's a terrifying object, easily your size, where the head is terminated without point - rather flat, as an executionior's blade might be
  15. >It takes a mighty wielder to swing this dread object, and such is Agwyn
  16. >Even with your time spent with her, you're still bewildered at her strength and stature
  17. >She claims lineage from the cold, desperate northern lands of Vyskaal
  18. >It's a terrifying place, you're told, littered with giants and wolfmen and the ruinations of old gods
  19. >As such, it makes sense she could possess this weapon
  20. >Like the sword, she's hands higher than you, eclipsing you with a size perhaps eight feet
  21. >Her horsehair is a dismal ash grey sporting a black mane and cut tail
  22. >You liken her to an old parable: "her buttocks could break backs and her breasts were like battering rams"
  23. >You never say this aloud, of course
  24. >But she isn't just a warrior of the north, she's also a mare, and one you sometimes think too much of
  25. >You shake your head, losing yourself in thought again
  26. >This wasn't a time for games - you had to make sure the weapon was ready for service
  27. >You shiver inside the small tent, the morning whipped with a fine chill
  28. >Soon, the band would prepare to strike, and Agwyn would expect you to report to her
  29. >Spending some time, you finish cleaning the greatsword, even muttering a few Solarian prayers to bless the damned metal
  30. >Morning has come, and so has death
  32. >Finding Agwyn isn't difficult, considering her stature and reputation
  33. >She's atop the grassy hill, hiding amongst brush, gazing down at the camp of loyalists
  34. >You, with all strength, carry the greatsword to her, as though a knight might care for a child
  35. >She does not look to you when you arrive at her side - she finds your company as natural as breathing at this point
  36. >You remain silent too - you've been chastised enough to know not to break her peace
  37. >Finally, she glances down to you
  38. >"It's the brew they want, did you know that?"
  39. >You aren't certain what she means - "The brew?"
  40. >A smirk tugs her lips - "Aye, quite. Rare stock, vintage, so I'm told. Rare, fermented blackberries you can only find in the southlands. Pilfered em' straight off the
  42. rabbit folk."
  43. > "Oh." You knew little of alcohol and meads and drink - the holy attendance of swords was more your trade
  44. > "More than oh, anon. Imagine that? Sending out for swordwork, just to get your hands on fine drink."
  45. >You're not sure you understand - "We aren't here for the soldiers?"
  46. >She offers a warm chuckle, and amidst her leather, you can't help but notice the gentle bounce of her massive breasts - you try to push the thought aside for now
  47. >"We always are. But it's the brew we were sent for. Men will die so other men will drink. The most northern thing I've encountered in all my years in these sunsoaked
  49. lands."
  50. >You clasp the sword tight, like it might reveal some additional wisdom
  51. >The thought is strange, but death is trivial to you now
  52. >Even then, the exsanguination of foes was a holy lesson amongst the Swordkeepers
  53. >Now their own soldiers would die by the lesson
  54. >"Perhaps some of the stuff is lost during combat," you say
  55. >If there's one thing you learned about Agwyn, she loved her drink
  56. >Another warm chuckle, and her hand comes to grip the greatsword's hilt
  57. >You kneel and offer it dutifully, while she nudges you playfully
  58. >"We might just 'lose' the whole batch and barrel."
  60. >Morning brought tides of blood and scream
  61. >You are only a keeper of weapons, not a soldier, so you are left to watch, and watch you do
  62. >The brutalization of men through violence is its own terrible philosophy, one you try not to think much on
  63. >But it plays out much the same - bodies are hewn and limbs separate like snapped branches
  64. >Blossoms of scarlet mist erupt from the once living
  65. >Stink and entrails litter the once calm grass below, and fire springs out in searing pillars
  66. >The Solarian loyalists are caught off guard, and Agywn's mercs do their bloodwork with such casual, efficient indifference
  67. >Agwyn is something else - a terror in her own right
  68. >She swings the ugly flank of black metal with horrifying ease and each foe caught in its proximity simply turns to fleshy tendrils
  69. >You can't see too much from the brush, but you're quite sure one of her swings bifurcates a man from shoulder to groin
  70. >Despite all the testaments and preachings, you find that all sword work is the same; there's no holiness to it, not as the Swordkeepers said
  71. >Soon, it's over
  72. >It seems to have gone by in a flash, and you're grateful
  73. >You return to camp, prepping supplies to clean the litter of blood-drenched weapons
  74. >You try to ignore all the death, and think of one thought which always brings you comfort: Agwyn in her tent, prone and nake, nursing a mug of brew
  76. >The mercs take their time coming back - most are cheery, having carried off bags and kegs of loot
  77. >The promised brew is among them, and you notice many cherish the fat barrels with greedy desire
  78. >Some, you overhear, are protesting with Agwyn, wishing to keep the stuff
  79. >She is insistent, however, the job be done as instructed, much to the chagrin of her quarry
  80. >But, she adds with a tempting smile that not *all* barrels were found during the assault
  81. >This leads to cheers
  82. >You are glad, even though you do not much partake; you're simply pleased to see Agwyn pleased
  83. >While you tend to your work, wrapping swords in scrolls of testament parchment, she finishes talking with the squads of men and women
  84. >Soon, she comes to you, and you feel yourself excite at her approach - she has always been fond company
  85. >The northmare casts you a fine grin, and she lodges her mighty titanshredder into the heard
  86. >Her snowy gray fur is spatterd with splashes of crimson, and her leathers are torn in a few places
  87. >You can spy her cleavage, shown in excess, hardly held by the remains of her attire, while her thigh is quite exposed
  88. >You shiver, but not from the cold chill
  89. >"A fine fight?" you query, smiling
  90. >It's not needed, her soaked weapon is story enough
  91. >"AYE!" she bellows. "Solarian southmen aren't as hard as a stallion's cock, but they fight like stubborn bras on a wenches teat!"
  92. >She's riled, you can tell, almost nickering
  93. >"Far better than those paltry Gallers we caught off the river. These southers, ah! Had blades that'd make me father blush!"
  94. >She laughed, and her heaving tits wobbled a bit - you did your best to look busy then, finishing your work
  95. >"I'll feast on the finest hay and drink their blackmead, I will!"
  96. >Oddly, a twinge of pride radiates in your chest - you like to see her succeed. . . even if it means the ruination of other men
  97. >"You are a fine warrior, maestress Agwyn."
  98. >She made a face, pushing you
  99. >"Ahh FYE to that, anon! Agwyn, Ag, even mare! But never maestress! I'll cut yer tongue for such formality!"
  100. >She roiled with a chuckled, though part of you wondered if she was serious
  101. >You relax, nodding "Right, of course!"
  102. >You want to say something else - you don't often get to catch her in fine, talkative moods
  103. >But she rolls her shoulders, turning - "Anon, I'll trust you to take care of Her? She sung like all the bitch wolves of Vyskaal!"
  104. >"Her" meaning the blade, and you nod "Of course! My service is to it, and to you."
  105. >Agwyn smirked - "Good lad."
  106. >She saunters off, and your eyes snag on her thick, plump buttocks, which even through leathers is quite noticeable
  107. >You block the thoughts because if you don't, you'll have another "sword" to attend to
  109. >Evening settlings in an obscenely peaceful fashion
  110. >Down the hill, carrion vultures and murders have set upon the entrails of the dead
  111. >Yet crickets and fireflies and pond frogs are dancing and singing
  112. >It's still a bit cold, but nothing a massive campfire can't settle
  113. >All the cutthroats are singing merry and drinking their weight in brew
  114. >You are snagged into the mess, forced to share mugs with rose faced brutes and narrow-eyed ladies
  115. >You don't mind though, and the ale helps you loosen a bit
  116. >The Swordkeepers were always so stifling and dutiful, pious about their traditions, hardly ingesting except for the occasional ritual wine
  117. >So, you aren't used to it, but you manage a horn or two, the liqud tasty, yet better, bearing a strange heat to it
  118. >They are strange, you find, so full of cheer despite the incarnations of earlier violence
  119. >These bands come from all stretches of Sol Solaria; vixens from the Shadewood, men from borders of Dagados, dogs of the Dying Sands
  120. >And you, a friend among them, a traitor to Solaria
  121. >You let yourself sing with them, bad as you are
  122. >Eventually, you find somewhere to sit, nursing another mug of brew
  123. >Someone approaches not too long after, a man with a pale white beard split into three tendrils
  124. >"Oh anon, dun be squarin' off to soon, the Mare wants to seez ya"
  125. >You look up, surprised
  126. >"Agwyn has asked for me?"
  127. >He grins, showing off rows of gold teeth, sloppy in his motions
  128. >"Oh yah, don' keep er' waitin, Mare ain't one for slowfoots."
  129. >He wasn't wrong; you thank him as he returns to the festivities, and you stagger up
  130. >You can't imagine what she wants so close to twilight
  131. >But you dare not keep the northmare waiting, so head to her tent, fever of the night rolling over you
  133. >You reach the massive set up, far larger and more luxurious than others
  134. >Entering, the nightfire and chill set aside as your eyes try to adjust to the light
  135. >It's difficult to see at first, as only a small cinder-born fire lingers
  136. >"Aaaahh, anon, good lad."
  137. >You see Agwyn
  138. >No, you SEE Agwyn, and your heart stops
  139. >She isn't in leathers or armors or ANYTHING
  140. >No, she is nake, lying prone on the floor at her side, nursing a frothing wooden mug of blackmead
  141. >She bears a grin, her cheeks are flush, and her immense, supple tits rest together, tented with nips as dark as the night sky
  142. >"W-what? Agwyn?"
  143. >You're at a loss, as it seems the idle thoughts of your dreams have coalesced before you
  144. >You're allowed to ogle her shapely form, which bears all curves of a mature, mother-made lady, yet carved with delicate sinew of tempered muscle
  145. >"Aye, Agwyn. Stop ya starin' and get in, swordcoach, been wantin' you for a bit now."
  146. >You aren't about to argue with your leader, yet at the same time you're at a loss
  147. >Was it... the drink? She appeared quite tipsy
  148. >Yet, a part of you - actually - all of you, don't know that it cares, you could see where this was going
  149. >"Yes?" You step forward, closing the flaps behind you, and your loins already tent from the sight
  150. >"Mmmmmm," she casts another smirk, eyeing your crotch, taking a long sip of the mug before tossing it away
  151. >"You been doin' fine, fine work, anon. Told you that She sang today. Not a hint of rust on the ol Girl. You're skilled. . ."
  152. >Again, she referred to the titancutter, but your thoughts were distracted by her renewed motions
  153. >She sprang to all fours, crawling to you, licking her soft, plush lips
  154. >"Now, I need to take care of you, eh? After all, ya' gotta sword yourself."
  155. >You're stunned, watching the object of your affections and lusts shift toward you, thick hips swaying as she came to you
  156. >"I. . . Agwyn. . . I don't know what to say. . ."
  157. >You truly are at a loss - not that you plan on going anywhere, but no words from your teachings could possibly describe THIS
  158. >"Ahhh don't be sayin' nothin' unless it's more, welp. Shut up and let the captain have her sword!"
  159. >She cackled, and at once came to your tunic, snatching it down in one brisk motion
  160. >Your cock sprang free, and you were allowed to appreciate the true difference in size between you to, as even on fours, she was quite massive compared to you
  161. >"Gah! Maest-"
  162. >She abruptly gripped your cock and squeezed, staring up at you with an expression that could stop a devil
  163. >"I told ya welp! Anything but THAT. Try mare why don'tcha!"
  164. >You wanted to nod, but couldn't as your shaft was enveloped by warm lips, wrapping around your tip with practiced ease
  165. >Agwyn mumbled in coaxing pleasure as she kisses at the crown, her tongue lapping in seductive, worship fashion, procuring pleased groans from you
  166. >She even granted your stones a gentle smooch, nuzzling them, breathing on them, letting her long pink rug lap away and cover them with sticky saliva
  167. >"Oh fye by every sword, mare, gods, do not stop! Do more!" you yell
  168. >She grins, hands to your waist, assaulting your cock with another barrage of suckles, slowly bobbing her head with rises and dives
  169. >She suckles the sides as well, kissing, leaving trails of saliva as your sex dribbles
  170. >"Ain't much a sword, more like a spear. You're quite the big one for such a welp."
  171. >You shuddered, uncertain if she was truthful or just stroking your ego - either way, you cared little
  172. >Especially as she shoved the tip into her cheek, running it across her lips, drinking your scent
  173. >"Good lad," she rumbled, pulling you again, now shoving you to the blanketed ground
  174. >You grunt, but don't move, astounded, ready to see what she had in store
  175. >"I've never wanted a thing so much in my life," you say, as she comes to you again, at your loins
  176. >this time, her thick, frothy tits come about to smother your pike, and you wince from astounding pleasure
  177. >"Aye? Hah! What a thing for a welp to say. Probably losin' your little mind. What was it then? Wanting to watch me fat arse bounce off that cock? Or maybe you lick your prick like I was servin' a god? Precious."
  178. >The words rattle you with profound truths, and your mind is flooded with desire
  179. >Soon, the mare begins pressing her fat bust together, utterly crushing your mast with her plump front, stroking it with her grey cushions
  180. >Again, she sucks at your crown in between motions, while your gaze is treated to the labor of her bouncing front, the warm horsehair like hot silk
  181. >Instinctively you grind into the motions, helpless, desperate to sate this tingling urge radiating through your loins
  182. >"That's it, swordboy. Might make a proper pole outta' you!"
  183. >Your hands toss out to grip her breasts, chancing - she only laughs, shoving them into your palms, where you twist and flick the black, hard nips
  184. >"I've never seen... tits so large!"
  185. >Indeed, they were likely twice the side of your dome, and here they were, wobbling on your cock
  186. >She grins, and this sends you into overdrive - a surge of heat bursts from your bellend, and suddenly spurts of hot white issue flood between her pillows
  187. >"AGGGGH!"
  188. >Your body jerks and twists in ways you didn't know possible, a siege of harsh pleasure gripping your mast; it doesn't help that the mare continues to work you over, adding a twist of pain to the orgasmic pleasure
  189. >Agwyn laughs, and the axis of her breasts are soaked with your male essence
  190. >She rolls a finger over your tip, though you aren't quite softened
  191. >"Not bad for a lad who polishes nothin' but swords. Well, not done thankin' ya yet."
  192. >By the gods, what else could she mean?
  193. >Now, the towering body of powerful mare looms over you, and her frame encompasses your own
  194. >You gasp, feeling her thick rump cheeks coax your pole between them, wiggling the veiny flesh as if to tease you
  195. >And it works
  196. >Her soft, black, sodden snatch rolls against your own, testing it with cleft kisses, while she pins you down by the shoulders
  197. >"Hope I don't break ya', lad."
  198. >You are concerned? But also excited
  199. >"What do you me-"
  200. >You dare to question, but you're cut off as she sinks her hips over yours
  201. >You let loose a guttural, pleased groan as her tight, sodden walls snugly grip yours; you've never felt anything quite so pleasantly comfortable as this
  202. >"Aghnn, sword fits the sheath!"
  203. >For a moment, she holds, enjoying the sight of you writhe within her, trying to buck into the plump pussy
  204. >You are, of course, at her mercy, being that she is so large
  205. >It is hardly a concern, however, as the mare begins battering your loins with a gentle barrage of heavy grinds
  206. >Her fat, plump buttocks wiggle with each slap, and you find yourself reaching for any part of her to grip
  207. >Her cunt is practically drooling with pre and saliva, allowing for quick, smooth motions, creating puddles of sex beneath your coupling
  208. >Her lips nip at your ear, and her hot moans twist into your brain, causing you to hump and groan in tandem
  209. >"G-gods!"
  210. >You have barely any words to muster; and how could you?
  211. >The mare quickens pace, how hammering her hips and thighs against your own
  212. >You're almost afraid she'll break something, as the power of her bouncing rises and dives is sexually terrifying
  213. >She hastens, to the point where things become a blur of fucking
  214. >You can't hold out, though, as you're not quite used to the temptations of flesh
  215. >Surprisingly, you feel a rush of nectar pour over your cock, but it's not you
  216. >"AGH!" Agwyn bellows with a moan, loud enough you're afraid someone might here
  217. >But no, she reaches peak and floods the coupling with her own juices
  218. >You hit yours as well, with surprisng gusto, bursting with a renewed river of seed
  219. >You clench her close, and she seems content to allow this, letting you rut into her satin cunt
  220. >After a while, the orgasm fades, followed by serene afterglow and panting breaths
  221. >"Well aren't you full of surprises, lad?"
  222. >Carefully, Agwyn rises, her pussy leaking with floods of seed and honey
  223. >You're quite battered and worn, watching her saunter to a table as she pours another mug of mead
  224. >You're winded, yet she hardly looks bothered
  225. >"I can see why She's in such good hands. But I might have you at closer attendance from now on, eh?"
  226. >You struggle to raise yourself, nodding
  227. >"Yes, of course. I'd serve you well."
  228. >Agwyn laughs, bending over, wiggling her thick, gray rump and spreading thighs
  229. >"That so? Well, serve again. Get over here and start fucking, welp."
  230. >You're in disbelief, surely she wasn't serious?
  231. >But a quick flash from her devious eyes tells the story, and you dare not decline
  232. >Besides, you don't want to
  233. >Trembling, you steady yourself and rise once more, going to her thick haunches and working yourself to get hard again
  234. >Before you know it, you're desperately humping into that thick, fat buttocks, quite a challenge considering difference in size
  235. >It was going to be a long night
  237. >The night fizzled out in ways you dared not expect
  238. >Agwyn's appetite for you was insatiable, forcing you to fuck for most of twilight
  239. >Thank goodness for the blackberry mead
  240. >At some point, you fall asleep
  241. >In the arms of a goddess, no less
  242. >You're quite content
  244. >When morning comes, the first thing you see is the mare with the black blade
  245. >She's stroking along it with - as far as you can see - one of your holy cloths
  246. >When she notices you stir, she looks to you wrapped in blankets
  247. >She's still nake
  248. >"Anon? Sleep well? Good. Come show me how you tend to Her. I want to see it first hand."
  249. >Though you ache, the pains are blissful
  250. >"Of course, uh, Mare."
  251. >She casts you a smirk as you come to her
  252. >You spend the morning in her grasp, her breasts on your shoulders, her arms wrapped around you, watching you work with patient attention
  253. >The life of a traitor might not be so bad after all
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