Communion by Jaagi and Gorin

The elders of her tribe had warned her never to step foot in these lands. They were off limits, believed to be cursed, unholy, and dangerous not just for one's health, but the health of their soul.

Jaagi believed those things, if not for superstition then because the elders had driven it into the heads of all her clan since the time they were children. Of course, the elders also believed that the world rested on the back of a flying raven and that still water was okay to drink ("drank it everyday when they were children and they didn't die").

She didn't believe those last parts which was why she walked alone to these forbidden lands despite their warnings. Enemy tribes gathered their forces to east and her people were outnumbered, but there were old gods here that still heard prayers. She set out a week ago to find a temple that was left standing and here she was.

The building looked old. That it hadn't been rotted out and swallowed up by the marsh was a good sign that it still saw visitors every now and then. She knocked on the door and waited, looking over her shoulder every few moments. Even if this place wasn't cursed it was damned creepy, even for her.
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He had come looking for a place of power, a place where the banished dread father Naglfar might hear his cries for direction or power, beyond that of bound spirits could provide him. His followers were becoming less content with simply a safe place to call home. He was not too lucky in finding much save the bottom of a pair of wine bottles.

The knocks stir him. Falling off the dilapidated pew, he splashes his face with a bowl of water, wiping sleep and hangover from it as best he can, stepping over the broken bodies of a few goblins too insistent about this place being theirs and not tactful enough to understand Gorin's urgings. He dusts off his coat and the knees of his breeches, puts his boots back on and makes sure his tunic's on right. With that he takes his hammer and approaches the door.

In as gravelly and monstrous a voice he can manage, he speaks through it; "Who goes?"
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Beginning to think that her trip was for nothing, the barbarian is ready to keep walking in search of another shrine to visit. She's caught by surprise when the voice through the door speaks to her. Uncertain if it was the shrine's keeper or perhaps a god itself answering her call, she drops her satchel from her shoulders and kneels down on one knee, quick to show respect and not blow her chance. She came too far to risk losing everything because of a misstep in her greeting.

"I am Jaagi. Crimson Jaagi, and I have traveled far and long. I wish to beg the gods here for a boon. I need their blessing so that I may return to my village and defeat the enemies that stand at the east. Please... I will do whatever it takes to be received and heard!"

She stares at the floor, unmoving save for the racing of her heartbeat. She knew that the gods were fickle beings who could lay waste to crops and turn the water foul without the slightest hesitation when met by those who did not pay proper respects.
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Huhn, thought Gorin, she's either a bandit who's uncreative with names, or an honest orc. He throws his shirt and kicks his boots off hastily into some dusty corner of the church and pulls a small box from his breeches. He flicks open the lid and breathes in some of the red smoke that bleeds out from within. In moments the effect is apparent. The flesh under his foreheads just forward, before giving way to a curling pair of ram's horns, his feet bend and crack, forming cloven hooves.

Giving himself a onceover, the crooked priest takes a pair of loud, clopping steps in place. Wearing nothing but breeches, a hammer, and the visage of a dead god, he opens the door, pulling it back hard enough that it comes off a door. He is met by a kneeling half orc. An honestly pious one then? He allows surprise to show on his face for half a moment, before he resumes in booming baritone. "Speak, then! What is it that you would offer, and what is it that you would have in trade?" Allowing a gout of embers to fly from his mouth, for added theatrics.
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The red-haired young woman wastes no time in opening up her bag and fishing out the items she had brought for offering. The first, a pile of bone fragments and teeth, is laid onto a patch of leather at his feet.

"The elders weren't clear on exactly what sort of god rested here. I brought many offerings in the hopes that at least one would appease! The first is the skull of Avul-Gromg, the war chief of the capitulated tribe of the Riverclaw! He died an honorable death in battle against us three winters ago. His skull... at least the pieces we could recover... were claimed before his burial and kept as a trophy! Mostly because the hit he took from the greatclub was outrageous. Veterans of that battle still tell the tale of how far the splatter sailed. They claim his blood flew so far as to paint his concubines across the river!"

The couldn't help but smile toothily at the memory. "I also have a blood offering! Though the deer is still in the marsh... I wasn't sure how long of a walk I'd have till I reached this place. It was a bit obnoxious to drag though... Kept getting caught on things. Like branches. And other animals... I strung it up on a tree though and I can definitely retrieve it though!"

Growing uneasy with the state of her offerings, Jaagi racked her mind for something else she could possibly give. "I...uh... I also have myself! I will adopt the teachings of the gods here and take them back to my people so that they may be enriched! All I ask for in return is the gods' blessing and strength to take back with me so that invaders in our lands would perish before our might!"

Fired up, she forgets herself and shakes a hot-blooded fist into the air and almost bellows out a roar from her kneeling position.
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Bright, orange eyes follow her as she enthusiastically goes about showing off what she has as best she can. He has trouble not smiling at her enthusiasm of triumph, and such selfless zeal as well! What Gorin would give for that in all of his flock! "Blood dried, blood drying and blood flowing. Fine offerings all around." He muses, in as sagacious and mysterious tones as he can. He then lets loose a pillar of flame from his mouth into the sky and rounds on her, screaming, "I am Naglfar, Lord of the Crossing, Master of the First Flame, Banished of the Heavens," He speaks, trying as hard to enunciate the capital letters through feigned indignified rage. "A two-penny warlord's skull, an afternoon's game and a a spot of sport will not serve for an offering!" He really hoped that necessary pretexts were not blasphemous in the dread father's eyes.

"I shall take an offering of fealty. A cabal of mine stands at the ready, waiting for direction. Accross the path of these invaders shall be their first soujourn. All this, to swear loyalty to the body of the priest I channel myself through, and by extension, me." He sneers, the words have a layer of filth over them.
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Jaagi, startled by the gout of flame, tumbles away from the front door and her hand instinctively drops to a knife at her hip. She quickly snatches her hand away from the weapon, unwilling to battle a god. Despite the glory it would bring she came to seek his help, not to carve out its heart. Hoping that she didn't offend him, she bows down into the ground, groveling for all she is worth. She was a warrior and groveled to no man. However she'd make an exception for gods.

"Forgive me Lord Naglfar! I meant not to insult you with my petty offerings. Please stay your wrath and I will give myself to you and do your bidding, whatever you may ask! So it shall be so, Lord Naglfar!"

When the flames dispersed and the shouting was done she found herself whole and thankfully unsmited. Her jaw was still firmly clenched and first time in a long time she thought about running away.
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Gods small and large, naive as well? The lengths Gorin would go for a cultsworth of women like her. "Know that I am not without mercy" He intones to the prostrated orc, "Simply heed my words." Deciding that enough is enough, he releases the spirit, the horns shrivel to naught, the hooves return to feet, the fire leaves his breath, and he affects passing out, falling onto his arm as he falls back and a rust red cloud seeps from his mouth. Give it a few seconds, he thinks, and then he starts.

"Eugh, slept outside I have again?" He says as a drunk might when confronting a new day. "I- Oh, hello," He says pleasantly after seeing the girl, still on his back, but lifted now by his elbows propping him up, in a much less theatrically inclined tone, he asks, "And who are you?"
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Seeing the god before her withdraw itself from its host she breathes a sigh of relief at having survived the encounter unscathed. Surely things were looking up! She cautiously approaches the man that was left unconscious from the strenuous act of harboring a god inside his flesh. He wasn't moving... Was he dead? Did the people channeling Naglfar die every time? She hoped not. It would make it very difficult to call upon his aid when she made it back home...

Her thoughts are interrupted as the unconscious man stirs as if awakening after a long nap and she immediately rushes up to him and kneels again. "My lord, I am Jaagi. I have come to swear my life and body to you so that Naglfar might bless me with his visage as he does you! I hope to be touched with his blessing so that I might bring it back to my village to better defend it from our rivals! Please allow me to stay so that I may better serve you and learn your ways, sir!"
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Relief blooms in Gorin, knowing that his surprise at the adamance of her drive doesn't need to be hidden. "Such fervor!" He moans, getting off the ground. He dusts off his breeches, giving a brief mourning moan for the back of them, now drenched in muck. "Damned filthy swamp. So, you've a rival orc clan coming for your people, I imagine?" He asks, feigning disinterest, Gorin turns around and enters the still open building and casually tears off his last, soiled garment, rendering him naked, save for a seven pointed copper pendant on his neck, and a warhammer that he throws aside upon entering. "Come," He says, beckoning Jaagi after him.

Pretending to make a few observations of the place, Gorin lets out a whistle. "Oof. Let me guess. I had big bloody horns, feet like a ram's and breathed fire around...ten minutes ago?" He says, noting the broken pews and corner full of dead goblins. He motions her forward to sit on a pew next to him, picking up his last bottle of wine and offering her a drag off the bottle. "So we're to be working together for a time, it seems?"
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Jaagi quickly follows him inside, pulling the door up behind her. She doesn't bat an eye as he undresses, not coming from a very prudish environment. Everybody bathed in the same spot so she was pretty sure she'd seen everybody in her village nude at some point.

At his question about his earlier appearance she eagerly confirmed it, not without some excitement. "It was amazing! I've never seen anything like it before! Even if that is the least that Lord Naglfar bestows it would be more than enough to make our enemies tremble in fear! They would throw themselves upon blades and crush their bodies against clubs just to ensure they did not have to engage against one so frightful!"

The barbarian sniffs the air and notes the pile of corpses in the corner. She finds them repugnant at first but nods sagely to herself. They were sacrifices obviously. One so powerful must feed on lots of blood! She takes a seat with him and graciously helps herself to the bottle outstretched to her. After gulping down a mouthful of the liquid she hands it back to the man and nods. "Yep! Lord Naglfar, before leaving your body, commanded me to serve you as I would Him. If that is what it takes to earn His blessing and receive his power then I will do whatever is needed without question!"
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Taking a moment to think, Gorin nods. "Sounds about right, greedy old bastard that he is." He grudges, affecting a morose attitude. He had to figure some way to bind her to him, he couldn't lose a follower this devout and physically capable. Then it hit him, it was so simple! "I do hope you realize that this was a life sentence that you swore, yes? I and mine will aid you with the Shaded Grace' most adept hand guiding us, but when he says something along those lines, he means it." He offered a silent prayer to the God of betrayal, vice and magery, hoping that the necessary pretext' blasphemy was offset by greed and pride inherent in what he was doing. And lust, why not.

"So, Jaagi, I take it you know nothing of your new Lord save that he plans to help you. Let me brief you briefly. Naglfar's domains are Vice and Magic. You need not worry for the second as its a damnably complicated mess." Scratching his hair for effect quizzical effect as if he were considering something, he turns to her and puts the wine bottle down on an unbroken pew. "The latter is fueled by the former and allows us smaller miracles the more members of the church follow their vices as deeply as their hearts allow, and so, I must ask that you forgive me for how forward I am now, for the sake of my soul, as we partake in a meal of wrath and lust."

And he headbutts her nose.
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Jaagi was about one or two sentences behind him as she tried to file away all the important tidbits about the God of Betrayal and how to please him. "I think I understand! All I have to do is-

The barbarian's vision bursts into stars as the man's head collides with her nose. She can hear the crack as bones in her face shift abruptly a moment before the pain registers. She is stunned at first, then angry at the unexpected assault. Blood drips from her nostrils as she blinks at him. She almost raises her hands to his neck so that she could pinch his head off like the flower from a stem but stops herself, remembering that she swore to serve him. Apparently for life. It would be bad for her to throttle the man she swore to serve only a few minutes after swearing to serve him. Instead she wipes away the blood on the back of her hand and snorts out the rest onto the floor to clear her nostrils.

"Are you trying to start a fight, my lord?"
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"And doing a piss poor job of it, by the looks of things." He responds, wiping two fingers across his forehead to wipe off some of her blood and licking it off. "In case you're as stupid as you are primitive, I think I'll be fucking you when I'm done." He begins stretching, letting a series of bones crack as he flexes arms and legs and neck. "For the sake of my soul, I ask you fight back,"

If she were to take a look at her naked opponent, Jaagi would see Gorin for a well worked man half a decade short of middle age. His arms and legs thick with corded muscle, scars and black hair, his veiny cock and pendulous balls both hanging a good six inches low. His warhammer but a few feet away, he clearly intends this not to be lethal, but his fists clenched show that pain is to be expected. "And save calling me Lord for when you've got me in you. Or don't." He says as he stands waiting.
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The barbarian's scowl turns into a toothy, almost predatory grin as she realizes his intent.

"Strigz Shal!" She wasn't aware that the man before her was a practitioner of Strigz Shal- 'war of saddles' in her native tongue. It was not an uncommon game for the younger ones to play. It was like a typical spar or scuffle except the object wasn't to beat your opponent into submission but rather 'mount' them. It was a simple game that honed the skills of young warriors who aspired to participate in future raids. Though it was a contest that was taken as seriously as any sport, most men and women of her tribe merely used it as an excuse to whet their appetites if they were still unmarried or had no concubines. Her older sister was often challenged to Strigz Shal, not only by individuals but by small groups as well. She sister rarely won but although she lacked honor in victory she was challenged more often than anybody else in the tribe!

"Your challenge is received with honor!" Jaagi kicks her satchel across the floor and removes her dagger buckled to her side. It rattles on the floor behind her a split second before she engages with the nude man before her. With a shout she lashes out at him with flurry of slashes with her talon-like finger nails. They were not immediately lethal unless she used them to rip out his throat. She made a mental note to herself not to rip out his throat. At least on purpose.
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A thick forearm comes up to protect his eyes, his mouth splitting wide in his own smile, "That is what I like to see!" Though naked, his flesh is charmed by the devilish blood that flows in him, allowing some protection against impact and tearing that has saved his life time and time again. He had sworn since the first knife his skin had turned that he would never judge witches for copulating with whatever they pleased. What would account for defense established, Gorin rushes forward cocking back his right fist, putting the whole of his weight behind an early and very telegraphed hook. If she took this to the jaw, she'd deserve to lose the resulting tooth or two.

When that misses, he plans on shifting into a tackle, propelling himself with those massive calves like an arrow from a tight bow, hoping that he weighs more than she does, or at least enough to bring her down.
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The sounds of his grunts and her roars shakes the dust off the rafters. Despite her muscular frame, Jaagi is still nimble. Though her fury is akin to fire, her body flows like water as it transitions smoothly from attack to defense and back again. When her nails fail to cause him any immediately damage she spins quickly and goes for a high snap kick. The blow would have been enough to crush the bones of a lesser combatant but the barbarian is more than a little surprised when it is deflected.

She stumbles back as she is momentarily caught off balance and is forced to create some distance between her and the nude man. Her shin ached but she has little time to concern herself with it before the servant of Naglfar charges her, not giving her any quarter. She barely leans out of the way of the fist that rockets at her face but his charge is enough to send them both flying through the air. A pew is destroyed, rendered to little more than planks and splinters when her body is plowed through it. The red haired woman groans as she stares up at the ceiling, her lungs flattened and the air forced out of her body.
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righter Gods be damned but those nails drew blood where tempered steel has often failed. He moves with steady cause, set in his ways and inflexible, though not without animal grace, a type of revelry without concern, likely brought on by . With his whole body, he turns, bringing the hook more down than across, the blow misses and his balance is poised perfectly for his tackle, Well, thinks Gorin, at least she's set into using her arms-what is that foot doing in my ribs? A crushing and clean strike, it hampers his momentum, leaving his charge to desire a bit of speed, and when he does kick off the ground roaring, orange eyes and broad arms wide, he catches her clumsily in one arm by the hips instead of the chest as he wanted, crashing to the ground falling away from her mid-flight, doing little but setting them both to crash against a pew.

The bench of it catches him in the stomach, taking his breath, but not before he desperately clutches blindly for something. His hands find the half-orc's ankle, which he holds onto desperately, meaning not to crush but to grapple with certain fingers. A low, breathless sound comes from his throat as he works through the pain of bruised ribs and a burning forearm. Oh, but a part of him already loves this woman, her ferocity, and does it begin to show, his cock betraying him and working to make itself a bigger, more vulnerable target.
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Jaagi took a moment to admire the ceiling. It wasn't anything special really. But it was rare that she found herself on her back. A wide grin curls up her lips and she begins to chuckle. She gasps in a lungful of air and her chuckles turn into a bemused laugh. She forgot how much fun Strigz Shal was.

Her thoughts went to memories of watching her sister, still in her late teens, getting challenged to spars by the young men in her tribe, even when she was busy fetching water or in the middle of market. The fights would never last very long. Her sister was not naturally talented in combat. It never took more than two, maybe three minutes before she was wrestled onto her belly, getting her hair pulled and being buggered in her ass. Jaagi could count on both hands the number of times her sister returned home without spunk dribbling down the insides of her thighs.

The firm grasp around her ankles brings her back to the situation at hand. Another ripple of laughter rumbles through her muscled frame. Perhaps the dizziness was making her lightheaded but her blood practically boils in her veins. She looks up at the nude man who has her foot. His skin was going to bruise later. She could already tell. The cock that knocks against her opponents legs catches her eye and she licks her lips instinctively.
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Something between a growl of hunger and a gasp of joy escapes his lips as she licks her, his red dick begins to inflate further, head a bruised purple, veins bulging out against the skin, barely constrained. A desperate lust burned in him, it had been too long since he's lain with anyone with remembering. Flashing through his head, he recalled a pirate captain of the dark continent fond of choking, regardless of how they savaged eachother, his own second in command back at the church who spent more wax in bed than in ritual, and little else.

A brief, coherent thought passes through his head, as he grabs her other leg, he wonders how she will measure up as he flips her onto her stomach, one hand going to her belt and ripping it downwards, bringing her garb down to her thighs, and then he climbs up her, one knee pinning her legs, one arm on hers, stopping elbows from getting to his stomach, one to her neck. "Is that all, my child?" The priest sneers, hate and desire intermingling in gasping tones, "A glance at my dick and you are done? Are all women of your tribe such meek sluts?" No answer could hope to disappoint him, this was the most fun he could have had in weeks.
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The barbarian snnered over her shoulder, flashing her sharp teeth at the man atop her. She could feel his heat radiating over her like an iron stove. He was also stronger than he looked. Perhaps the dark god touched him now even though she couldn't perceive it. "You call that a dick? My mother has more cock than you!"

Jaagi's thoughts again turned to her sister. Despite her sibling's frequent defeats she'd always talk a big game. Curses and insults would fly from her lips, goading her opponent into rage more often than not. Even when she was on her back with her ankles pinned to her shoulders she'd jabber on until another tribesman saw fit to stretch her throat out with a "mounting" of their own. Jaagi always thought it a dirty tactic, especially when they often kept her face stuffed up until the point that she stopped moving for a little bit. But even after it was all done her sister never seemed to hold a grudge.

As her loincloth is ripped down her legs, exposing her cunt and ass, the crimson-haired woman began to better understand her sister's tactics and point of view.
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A sharp bark of a laugh escapes Gorin, "I like when my whores have some fight in them." He says, shifting to better position his length over her groin, and thrusts brutally into her thighs and out, the flared head of his cock dragging against her slit, another thrust, this one between her ample buttocks, his throbbing dick dragging against her asshole as he brings it back. "I think I will let you decide, darling," he hisses hungrily into her ear, "Are you quite ready to be a mother, yet?"

Holding her neck down, he nibbles tenderly into her ear as he returns to thrusting between her legs, his red flesh giving off heat like a furnace, his meat pushing up against her pussy, its head dragging back down against that slick, tender hole. "So?" He asks expectantly. A sudden, gentler tone interjected into his manner, despite him grinding her face and knees into the stone floor.
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The barbarian clenches her legs together as she feels him savor her like freshly caught prey. She can count the number of ways that she can power him off her body, snap his manhood like a dry twig, and hang it on a rope like a trophy. However she is admittedly reluctant as the sensation of his cock slips against her pussy, rutting against her like a dog in heat. Just as she starts to grow a little wet he pulls away from her and slips between her ass like a tight fitting thong.

Back...forth...back...forth, the head of his cock kneading against her puckered hole drags like a thick finger seeking its away inside her. The hotness of his breath at her ear was enough to make her forget why she was fighting in the first place. She definitely understood what her sister had seen in an honorable loss.

"S-Since when does the winner of Strigz Shal ask what his trophy wants?" The warrior didn't care where he chose to put it so long as he ceased his merciless teasing and put it somewhere inside her.
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Oh, but he does throb at that word, trophy. Self-debasing honor, Gorin would love this one, the only thought to pierce his lust addled mind as, without ceremony or preparation, brings the engorged head of his dick to her asshole, settling just right against it. The hand on her neck slides, from the back to pin, from the front to choke, not completely, but enough to bruise, they'll find later.

He shifts, setting both of his legs on either side of hers, he thrusts, dropping his hips, driving his meat into her, the only mercy that it was still slick from teasing her pussy. Without restraint, he buries his length as deeply as he can, as he does, he brings his open mouth down on her shoulder, biting down hard into the tight muscle.
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Jaagi could feel the hot flesh of his manhood spread her cheeks apart. He pushes hard and she can almost hear and audible pop as his flared cock drives through her sphincter like a door being kicked down. She hisses at the sudden intrusion and her body goes rigid beneath him. Another push only inches her across the floor until a hand clasps around her throat holding her in place. The next thrust successfully drives him home and the barbarian releases an undignified squeal as he buries the rest of his manhood in her ass.

By the gods she felt like she'd been split like firewood! Her legs twitch as she struggles to accommodate him. Lungs bellow quickly to overcome the minor discomfort. Her sister was not even a warrior. Surely if she could deal with a few unexpected dickings then she herself could overlook the fact that it felt like a horse was balls deep inside her as-

The red-haired woman's thoughts are interrupted by the sudden pain of teeth biting down into her flesh. "FUCK! AH! MORE!" Her eyes well up from the shock of pain but she'd be damned if she wanted him to stop now...
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Well, that was about all the motivation Gorin needed. Failing in anything even resembling easing her into it, he pulls back, only to thrust forward, spearing her once again, her body writhing serving only to fuel his rampant desire as he begins working into a rhythm, his hips slamming into hers, his cock's wide head scraping at her insides every time it pulls out, only to stretch her wide as he drives his shaft deep again. The warmth, the vicelike grip, it was all too intoxicating.

He grinds his teeth, broad and flat and powerful against her shoulder, barely cutting, but crushing deep, feeling muscle shift against his tongue to accomodate the crushing force. Pulling her neck away from his head, he relents for a moment to let a long lick languor across her shoulder, relishing the taste of sweat and flesh before he bites down again, closer to her neck. "Miiine," he growls through a mouth full of her.
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Jaagi bites into her lower lip as the rutting intensifies. Each sharp thrust feels like a small punch to her gut, but unlike most punches it was feeling a little better each time. The sensation of his cockhead spearing into her again, the feel of his pendulous balls clapping against her rear was almost more than she could take. Soft yelps pushed their way past clenched teeth with each rough insertion but the noises she made only seemed to excite the man pillaging her body.

As teeth bite into her shoulder again the barbarian lets out another pained groan, starting soft and building to a screaming crescendo as he clenches his teeth on her harder and harder. It was obvious that he liked the sound. When she is nearly out of breath from crying out he finally lets go and licks her where it hurt. The cocktail of pain is enough to drive her wild, making her leg muscles twitch, her toes curl, and her cunt drip between her thighs.
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Not slowing his brutal pace, the puts himself on his knees, righting them even as their hips meet, even as he's shoving what must certainly feels like too many inches into her behind. The hand on her neck travels up, caressing her cheek gently before violently taking a fistful of hair to pull her back with him, turning her head he forces his mouth onto hers, silencing her scream, his long tongue probing her mouth.

The hand on her arm long since abandoning needless restraint instead claps onto her hip, traveling up to her breast, only to maul at it. This, all the while punctuated by two slaps of hip to hip, and nuts to thigh. He felt her legs buckling and twitching, her breathing as ragged as his own, even his balls being steadily coated in her pussies' drool. His pace speeds, taking instead more shallow thrusts, faster and as merciless.
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Jaagi groaned loudly, flashing her sharp teeth as her head was wrenched back. She felt like she was being ripped apart in the best of ways. The pain and pleasure mixed into something primal, indescribable. She wanted more. Needed more! As if hearing her thoughts the man kissed her. She could feel his hands roam over her body, groping, squeezing, and twisting as it pleased him. She parted her lips to him, feeling his tongue dance inside her mouth.

The feeling of him taking her awakened something in her. Her muscles clenched and her insides tingled. She tried to cry out but her screams were muffled by the tongue that writhed in her mouth. With wide eyes and cleaned fists she found climax. The barbarian's body shuddered. Her juices ran down her inner thighs and pooled underneath her as her rear was hollowed out by the man who had won it to do with as he pleased.
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Gorin relished the way she spasmed and tried to milk and coax his seed, and he was all too hungry to give, but he held back. He eases up as she cums, as she convulses, he pulls out, he eases out of her, leaving her hole gaping. With a gasp, he ends the kiss and releases her head. His hand runs gently up her side, her back, onto her shoulder which Gorin uses to lift himself up, keeping her on her knees, stopping her from standing, or more reasonably, collapsing.

His still wet cock bouncing with each step as he walks around her, the occasional wisp of steam coming off as it radiates heat and the scent of sex and sweat, he puts it in front of her mouth, expectantly. "Well," He says, breathlessly. "I'm glad someone enjoyed themselves." He tousles her hair, affectionately. "So, then, pet, what are you waiting for? Return the favor."
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Jaagi wavers, somewhat dazed after her orgasm. A pitiful sigh trembles from her lips as he slides out of her, the flare of his cock popping out of her like a cork and leaving her ass agape like a two-copper buttslut. Small wisps of steam float from the broken cored-out hole and quickly evaporate into the air. If she were able to sit down in the next week she'd be lucky.

The barbarian feels the pressure on her shoulders, keeping her on her knees. She begins to come to, the first thing that she notices is his obscenely long cock. She can scent it before he even shoves it in her face and it makes her mouth water. The petting through her thick mane of hair was somewhat comforting. It was as if her defeat had flipped a switch in her head. Like an animal she took to her conqueror like a proper mate, leaning forward and taking the head of his manhood into her mouth without a second thought. He tasted like he smelled and that suited her just fine.

Sluck...glurk...shlup...

Her technique lacked the finesse of a practiced whore but she made up for it in drive. She bobbed back and forth, washing every inch of her master's flesh with her tongue then moving further down. She cradled his heavy balls in her hand, ignoring the mess that was being made of her face as saliva bubbled out from between her lips and ran down her chin in a frothy waterfall.
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A contented moan escapes Gorin as his she takes his mass, still turgid and full of vigor. Her animalistic technique serving to get him further riled, further entranced, drowning deeper and deeper in lust. Relishing the sensation of her rough tongue and rougher hands on his package, his head rolls once at the sensation before he catches himself. Shaking some of his wits back into himself, he begins to form a steady rhythm with Jaagi, pulling back as she withdraws, only to thrust forward as she goes down.

"Ohh," he moans, "My darling pet," His eyes focus on hers, the bright orange full of joy and malice, "One tackle hardly covers wrath, would you not agree?" The hand on her head is mirrored as its twin claps down on the other side of her head as he completes his thrust a bit deeper, working in the last few inches. From there, he moves her violently, his length vanishing behind a froth of spit into her mouth. His coos rapidly turn once more into furious snarls and fucks her face, his jewels smacking against her chin with a wet slap. With each audible gag a thrill courses through Gorin, manifesting in a throb along the whole of his meat, Jaagi's tongue depressed by a vein jutting out, her throat bulging from the mass occupying it. "Hold fast," He growls, "I am nearly there,"
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Jaagi, moans softly, pleased that her lord and master was pleased. She rolls her red eyes up to watch his face as he begins to succumb to her ministrations. She easily finds a nice, easy rhythm with the sway of his hips, meeting his manhood as he meets her mouth. She is startled when his eyes meet hers, filled with an mean glint.

GURK-

Hands bury themselves in her red hair and with a tilt of her head and a cruel jut of his hips his cockhead is sent rocketing down her throat. The barbarian's eyes go wide and she immediately starts to choke on his length. She presses her hands on his thighs in instinct but her fighting only seems to excite him more. Her world becomes a blur of pelvic hair and the temple's relative silence is broken with a cacophony of wet slurps, gagging, and teary-eyed, jawbreaking, deep throat fucking.
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An appreciative gasp escapes him, though whether it be for the simple massaging sensation of tender throat trying to swallow his abusive cock, the symphony of gags and squelches that manage to escape Jaagi's mouth, or most likely a combination of both is lost in his violent ministrations. Her beating at his thighs serves only to infuriate him as he takes deeper, more pronounced thrusts, savaging her throat further.

Deciding this is not enough, he slows for a moment, stopping when he's balls deep inside of her to shift, raising one leg and getting it over her shoulder, then the other so that his feet are behind her. "I enjoy a struggle, pet," He gasps as he bends at the right angle to fuck mouth harder, a snarl on his lips as he continues, his eyes beginning to swim, "But know when you have lost!" What proceeds are a series of growls, as his cock begins to throb harder, every vein evident against her tongue, a jet of warmth flows down into her stomach, and then another, all the while still thrusting, the smell and taste and feel of him flooding her senses.

At last, after a few more thrusts, Gorin pulls out completely, her hair in one hand, beating his slick, shining cock in the other, as rope after rope of near steaming cum paints the barbarian's face white, cum landing on her hair, face, chest and even a bit on her legs. After what seems like the better part of a minute, the flow subsides, until there's naught be a few drops left as he slaps his still erect cock against her face with an audible slap, mixing cum and saliva. Releasing her hair, he lets his cock, covered in cum and all too much sticky spit, hang once more in front of her mouth.
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Jaagi pushes and tugs at his legs to pull him out of her throat, choking and gagging the entire time. As if her fighting only turned him on more her actions are only rewarded with more cock. With her back bent and her head wrenched back he is able to hate-fuck her throat as if he is trying to push it out through the other end of her.

She punches vainly at his legs. Her body trembles from lack of air and her weak punches devolve into even weaker scratches. The barbarian's world begins to grow hazy as her eyes begin to roll up in the back of her head. Her arms drop limply to her sides.

Gods be thanked he decides not to choke her to death with his own cock and just as she is on the verge of blacking out she can feel a burning rush pour down her throat. The deposits in her stomach are immediately wretched back up, welling up like a creamy geyser from around the sides of her mouth and down her nostrils. Kept upright only by the hand in her hair, Jaagi's near-unconscious body fights for air, coughing up the spunk he left inside her throat even as more is splatted on every inch of her.

A slippery mixture of his cum and her saliva drips in gooey ropes down her slack, cock-loosened jaw, ruining the leather bindings of her bra with stains too infernal to ever wash out. Insistent cock whippings on her lips, nose and cheeks begins to make her come back to. Her first unobstructed breath releases a visible wisp of steam. Only able to see out of one eye (the other glazed over along with the rest of her face, neck, breasts... her entire front, really) she finds his manhood back in her face. Obediently she takes it back into her mouth, cleaning him off in between cummy belches.
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The crooked priest lets loose something between a throaty moan and a tired growl. After the all too sensitive, paralytic grip of orgasm begins to slack, so too does that of Gorin's fist. From pulling her hair, he begins to gingerly scratch at her scalp, a slight catch in his appreciative sigh as the somewhat sensitive nerves of his dick light up at her cleaning. "Good girl," He coos, letting her attend to his privates, relishing the sight of her, covered in his and her juices, his own groin in a similar state of disarray. "So! Strigz Shal, was it? That is a fine game, I should say. I think your tribe and my flock will get along just fine." He says, withdrawing his slacking member.

Lifting her chin in one hand, he bends and gives a remotely dry part of her forehead an affectionate little peck, looking down into her eyes when he draws back, still only inches from her face, orange eyes boring into hers. "You shall have my people and their crafts aligned with your own, we shall crush your foes, and you shall sleep in my bed and do as I say." He says with an utterly inflexible certainty, "Are we understood?"
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The barbarian woman swallows down the sticky cum that still clings to Gorin's manhood, making sure to catch the droplets that ooze from his flared cock before they could hit the floor. She is rewarded with a comforting sensation of fingers massaging at her scalp and adulation that would have been more befitting of a house pet.

A proud warrior such as herself would normally have been insulted by such treatment but she did not mind, too busy in her lapping at his balls to be angry. She hadn't felt like herself since he had pinned her down on her belly. His dominating her had affected her greatly and she was back in her own head, at least to know that something had changed. She could only reason that her base instincts regarded him as a not only a worthy mate, but her dominant. Did this happen every time the rites of Strigz Shall were performed? Had her sister felt this way with every man and woman who wrestled her down and fucked her? It was no wonder her sister could get nothing done!

Jaagi had mindlessly cleaned her lord from tip to base and was about to make another pass when he pulled away from her. Momentarily fearing that she had displeased him, she was pleasantly surprised when he gave her a kiss on her forehead. If she had a tail she would have wagged it. After listening intently to what he had to say she eagerly nodded her head in agreement.

"Yes master! You shall be as our king and Naglfar will be our god! I will serve you at your throne be it at your side or on my knees! All shall bow or perish before our might!" A rope of his seed detached from her chin and disappeared down between her breast bindings from her excitement.