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This document contains explicit content, and is not suitable for minors,
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This story, the characters, and the world the story is set in are © Quexvax
the Hard to Pronounce 2010-Present.  This is a work in progress.  You are
more than welcome to keep a copy for personal use, but any use that generates
profit or omits this opening message is forbidden.

As for you perverted adults who are bound and determined to keep reading, you
can expect depictions of oral sex and bestiality between a woman and a
male beast, as well as humiliation in this chapter.

If you feel that this document is worth saving as part of your personal
collection, I only ask for a little feedback, through asstr.org or via e-mail
at quezvax@gmail.com.  I am a lazy writer, and need encouragement in order to
keep writing.

A special thanks to all my friends who helped me edit and improve upon my
work!

Story codes: (best/F/oral/humil)

Synopsis:  A young mage in Narsinia finds life difficult but interesting...

Chapter 2

	The Church of the True Gods was not fond of Tower Naerwul.  It would
be more accurate to say that they hated, detested, and abhorred the tower.
The fact that it was still standing after several centuries spoke well of the
fortitude of the wizards living there.  In a country where arcane arts were
both despised and feared, it was the only safe haven for those who found they
had otherwise unwanted talents, or a desire to learn the forbidden.  Most who
developed significant skills in the forbidden arts made their way to the
country of Alkemia, where they could practice without persecution.  Most of
the rest were forced to remain holed up in a tower that looked quite
uninviting from the outside.  Inside, however, was a different story.
	The cylindrical ancient structure looked to be a quarter-mile high,
and was a third the height across.  It was clearly made of stone, most of it
worn brown and gray by the ages.  There were no visible windows in the tower,
though from the ground a distance away, mages could be glimpsed casting
various spells atop the tower.  The only known entrance was a pair of
wrought-iron double doors; only brave or foolish merchants ever approached
them.  The building sat on a hill better described as a bulge in the middle
of a wide clearing.  People gave it a wide berth, though the residents of the
nearby small town of Tower Watch could catch glimpses of the top of the tower
from most anywhere in the settlement.
	Inside the tower was a completely different place.  It was a city
unto its own, a mile across on the inside with stories aplenty.  The most
coveted dorm rooms had windows that one could gaze through out at the land.
The roof was magically two miles in diameter, with open air available for
practice as well as recreation.  Six hundred mages could comfortably live in
such a place and have enough room for their personal experiments, summoning
chambers, and so forth.  However, the number was generally closer to three
hundred.  Very few residents ever ventured out, for they would face the wrath
of a mob or zealous inquisitors as soon as they were near civilization.  It
was a frequent inside joke that Naerwul Tower was the only civilized city in
Narsinia.
	The only wizard that was free to walk outside the tower openly was
the Archmage Mak’daan.  He was feared even by more-powerful members of the
priesthood.  The church knew that killing the Archmage was quite possible,
but it would entail a heavy loss of life.  So long as the wizard did not kill
openly, they tolerated his occasional appearances.  This was made even more
extraordinary by the fact that he was not a pure human.  Before delving into
darker arcane secrets, he had been a beautiful man, his eyes glowing soft
blue, his smile capable of bringing joy to one’s soul.  He had squandered the
gifts of his angelic blood, though, finding fiendish powers more to his
liking.  The path he chose to walk in life was reflected not only by his dark
attire, but by the jagged scars that symmetrically ripped over his face.  The
blood-crusted scars that marred his appearance always looked fresh, even
after years.  His once-soft features had become taut, and excessive laughter
or a devious grin would frequently break open a scar or two, letting blood
drip down his face.  For this reason and others, he seldom allowed an obvious
expression to cross his face.  Fortunately for Narsinia, he seldom emerged
from his domain.
	Most of the other residents of the Tower were perfectly content to
live their lives in Naerwul until they learned enough to journey to Alkemia.
Narsinians never saw such journeys, but enough rounds in a tavern could
sometimes bring about the telling of a tale of a mage making his or her
pilgrimage.  Peasants not being knowledgeable in the ways of magic meant that
most of such tales were overly exaggerated, citing feats of magical power
that were well beyond the grasp of mortal mages.
	There were only a handful of individuals over the years besides the
Archmage who dared leave the safety of the tower.  Lereece Everyoung was one
such individual.  Lereece was a rare thing in Narsinia.  Her father was an
elf, but she never knew the circumstances of her conception or birth.  She
was turned over to Tower Naerwul as soon as she was old enough to talk, and
hadn’t seen her mother since.  A child being brought to the tower-city was
unheard of.  Certainly adolescents and youths had found magical talents and
made their way there, but never a child before Lereece.  As such, her
upbringing was far from typical.
	At twenty-seven years of age, she looked ten years younger than she
actually was.  Growing up had been difficult for her.  Living in a mage tower
had forced her to mature mentally faster than she would have on her own
accord.  Lereece never looked worse for wear, however, having mastered a
carefree smile that suited well her slender frame of five foot even.  Her
ears came to slight points, and she had spent years mastering the art of
keeping them hidden beneath her long, golden hair.  Eight years ago, she took
to mage-craft, though the timing surprised those not versed in the longer
life-spans of the elves.  While she was not a prodigal student as some had
expected, she was far from slow.  Curiosity was what ultimately led her to
forays outside the tower.
	One afternoon she waited for one of the few merchant caravans that
routinely stopped by to make its appearance.  Once she heard the knock on the
front doors, she made her way to a hidden alcove where she cast one of her
favorite spells: invisibility.  Hidden from sight, she slipped gracefully
past the wagon and driver as they entered the tower.  Once outside, she
couldn’t hold back a soft sigh at how different open air felt so close to the
ground.  It wasn’t the same as being atop the tower, where all air was fresh.
Perhaps the air on the ground wasn’t as pleasant, but its foreign nature made
it special to her.
	Although she was invisible, she was dressed in what would pass for a
disguise as a monk of sorts.  She wore plain brown robes, including a hood,
and had a plain leather satchel slung over one shoulder, weighted down with
several heavy books.  She kept a rapid pace as she headed for her pre-
selected destination, the Tower Watch library.
	It was not an overly large structure; it stood two stories tall and
didn’t even take up half a block on its long side.  The assortment of tomes
kept within was meager by comparison to the Tower Naerwul collection.  Any
books she had the want to examine she could find at home, without the danger
of a visit to the outside world.  The volumes at the library, however, were
not the reason for her visit.
	She felt that she had timed her visit well, for she managed to slip
into the library shortly before it closed.  Still invisible, she made her way
to the staircase that lead to the second floor, then to the ladder up to the
top.  She waited impatiently for the head librarian to finish closing the
building before retiring to his quarters.  It seemed to take an eternity, but
her spell had not yet worn off when she finally had her opportunity.
	She climbed up the ladder and pushed aside the trap door that sealed
the roof.  Once atop, she glanced around and sighed in frustration.  “I know
you’re here,” she muttered as she closed the trapdoor behind her.  She looked
at the backs of a dozen gargoyles, their wings spread and their claws
extended in threatening, protective poses.  They formed a silent guard over
the top of the building, perched on a ledge that extended several feet above
the roof.  Once, they might have served a purpose; now, most people looked at
them only as decoration.  Lereece knew better of one, but *which* one was the
trick.  He had a habit of relocating himself, as well as the other statues.
	She felt for her satchel and fished out a book with a particularly
solid cover before holding it aloft.  “You can reveal yourself and we can go
about our business,” she announced to the open air in a serious tone, “or we
can proceed with your pointless little game,” she said, her tone faltering
just slightly as she held back a giggle.  She waited several long moments,
but received no reply.  “Very well, have it your way.”
	Lereece approached the first of the gargoyles starting on her left.
She held the book awkwardly above her head, then struck the stone statue’s
wings.  The spell that had kept her obscured from sight immediately ceased as
she did so.  The sound resulting was a dull ‘thud’.  She checked the book to
make sure she hadn’t caused the cover any harm.
	Unsatisfied with her lack of results, she shifted a pace to the next
gargoyle and struck it in a similar fashion.  Once again, she was rewarded
only with a dull ‘thud’.  Undaunted, she shifted to the next one and repeated
the process.  If there had been anyone watching, she probably would have
looked ridiculous, striking stone statues for no apparent reason.  However,
as she reached the eighth, the statue animated and turned to push away the
book she’d been using.
	“That’s enough,” the gargoyle hissed, an annoyed look on its face.
“You could have simply waited for me to finish my contemplations.  So
impatient, your kind.”  The creature turned and hopped down from the ledge,
out of sight of any potential onlookers in the ending daylight.  He turned
his gaze upon the young woman before him and snarled once again in annoyance
for good measure.  Had he stood upright, he would have been nearly seven feet
tall.  However, the gargoyle was perpetually stooped, putting the tops of his
curved horns at five foot eight most of the time.  His gray skin looked like
carved, smooth, finished stone, just a tad bit worn by time.  His eyes glowed
red when he was agitated.  His bat wings, as well as his limbs, were slender
but heavy, being made of stone.  Lereece had never seen him fly; she
sometimes doubted that he could.
	“Oh, Granit,” she cooed like she was speaking to a pet (which drew
another sneer from the beast).  “If I waited for you to finish your
contemplation, I’d be here for a week.  You know I can’t stay out here too
long.”  She sat down cross legged on the gravel atop the roof, glad for the
heavy brown robe that provided some padding against the cold stones.  “I
brought you a couple books,” she said, her tone shifting to one of child-like
excitement.
	She set down the book she had used as a bludgeoning tool and pulled
out several more.  She handed the stack to the earthen creature, who
carefully examined each cover.  “Faiths of the Lost… Arcane and Divine
Interaction… Inner Continents… Elemental Principals…”  Granit looked up at
her and lifted a stone ridge that served as an eyebrow.  “These will do
nicely, though I have to question your intentions with the last of the four.
I could lecture the author on principals as well as philosophies of earth,
though it wouldn’t do much good given the fact that he’s likely a part of it
by now.”
	Lereece rolled her eyes, then her shoulders, still struggling for
comfort while sitting on the ground, something she was unaccustomed to.  “It
covers all four elements, so that leaves seventy five percent of a book you
might find useful.  Well, fifty percent, given the fact that I doubt you care
about your opposing element.”  She was quick to add the last part, before he
had a chance to point it out.
	“I am more associated with air than most earth creatures,” he
replied, to her surprise.  While she fought to find some measure of comfort,
he obviously had no problem standing in nearly any pose for an extended
period of time.  He only seemed to move as much as necessary in their
dealings.  At that moment, he had opened up one of the books and was scanning
over the contents of the first few pages.
	“I suppose I can understand that, given your wings,” she said with a
shrug.  “Seriously, though… can you actually fly?  I’ve never seen a gargoyle
fly,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she leaned closer to the creature.
	“I’m sure you’ve not seen a lot of things, growing up in this age,”
Granit replied.  He made a sound that might have been a sniff, even though
the creature had no real need to breathe.  As an afterthought, he answered
her previous question, “Yes, I can fly.  No, I won’t right now,” he said,
dimming her smile, “There’s too much risk of my being seen.”
	Lereece pouted obviously, disappointed in his answer.  She tried the
look that could sway the hearts of men easily enough, but sighed when the
gargoyle was obviously unmoved.  “Why do you stay here, anyway?” she asked.
She found it odd when she realized she had never before asked him that
question.  “I’m sure you’d be welcomed at Tower Naerwul.”
	“*Welcomed*?” he replied, looking up at her, his eyes glowing a
deeper red for a moment.  “Oh, I’m *certain* they’d *love* to have me about.
Take a bit of skin here, a clipping of claw there; ask me more questions than
you ever could in the span of an evening, only they’d ask so many questions
in an hour.”  He raked his claws over his face in a show of exasperation,
causing a high pitched scratching noise.  His claws left no obvious damage on
his visage.  “No, I’d much rather stay here, and receive the occasional books
from you in exchange for a mere evening of torment.”
	The girl didn’t appear hurt by his last comment.  She had learned in
dealing with him that he was a moody creature, but entertaining in his own
right.  “Oh, Dearest Granit,” she cooed, “It never ceases to amaze me that
you didn’t die of boredom before you met me,” she giggled.  She stood up and
stretched, then cleared her mind and muttered a few arcane words, ensuring
she would remember in exact detail everything he said for the rest of the
night.
	“Sooooo…” she drew out the word, sitting down and once again shifting
in an effort to relax.  “Have you ever actually interacted with mundanes?”
	The statue glanced toward the rapidly darkening sky, where the
brightest stars were striving to be seen first.  “By mundanes from your
perspective I assume you mean humans.  I’ve never had a meaningful encounter
with them.  The few times they’ve known I was anything more than carved rock,
they either fled in abject terror or reached for the first weapons they could
find and attacked me.”  The creature gave an indifferent shrug.  “That’s the
extent of my interaction with ‘normal’ humans.  However, I’ve observed them
for countless years, and I’ve concluded from my time of watching that the
vast majority of them are witless cattle who either flee or follow anyone
special they encounter.”  He turned his gaze back to her as the stars became
more numerous.  “The few who aren’t prone to one of the two simple responses
quickly find themselves well beyond the capabilities of the ‘mundanes’.  Why
do you care?” he sneered.
	She appeared rather downcast after hearing his words.  “I can’t help
but wonder sometimes what it would be like to live among them,” she bashfully
replied, her own words bringing a blush to her face.  “Are they truly so
unworthy of respect?”
	“Yes,” he replied quickly.  The creature closed his eyes, and when he
spoke again his words sounded almost as if they had been rehearsed.  “This
church of theirs has them all convinced that they are something special
simply because of what they are.  One may as well spit upon the ground and
call it art.  One is only special when they distinguish themselves as being
better or in some way different than the ‘average’ member of their race.”
	“What of you and me?” Lereece interrupted, taking advantage of a
brief pause in the creature’s words.
	“I,” he explained, only a hint of pride in his voice, “am special
because I am far more intelligent than my fellows.  Were you to encounter one
of them, you’d find them to be as little more than sadistic predators with
overly simple minds.”  He shook his head, a look of disgust on his carved
stone visage.  “You,” he said, nodding toward her, “have been forced to be
special.  You did not have the opportunity to be mundane.”  His lips curled
into a grin, revealing sharp stone teeth that may well rend flesh from bone,
had he the inclination.
	Using her satchel for a modicum of support, Lereece had managed to at
last attain a small measure of comfort up on the roof of the library with the
earthen creature.  “So, you’re saying that the vast majority of people out
there aren’t special,” she said, to which Granit nodded in agreement.  “Well,
I suppose that’s moderately depressing,” she said with a sigh.
	“Not really,” he replied, staring at her coldly.  “Most of life must
be mundane.  Mundane are most creatures that are eaten, such as your cattle,
swine, and fowl.  Humans are no different than animals, except in one
respect: *potential*.  They can be something more than what they are born as.
Most, however, don’t.”
	“I take it gargoyles are the same, then?” Lereece asked.  She did not
fear offending him.  He obviously didn’t think too highly of his kin.
	“Yes, they are the same.  Special individuals among my kind are rarer
than they are among humans.”  The creature seemed to draw a heavy breath,
then let it out slowly.
	“It must get stagnant up here,” she said softly, sitting up and
moving closer to him.  “I may not know any other half breeds like myself, but
at least I can have mostly normal interactions with the other wizards at
Tower Naerwul.  How do you deal with the loneliness?”
	Sardonic as always, the creature rolled his eyes and shrugged his
shoulders at the comment.  “I deal with it by putting up with the occasional
intrepid knowledge-seeker like you.  It’s nearly enough to drive me mad.”
	She giggled.  “Oh, come now.  I’d wager it’s good for you.
Seriously, though,” she said, her tone shifting to match her words, “What
about love?  Surely you must pine for some sort of physical contact, or at
least release, from time to time..?” she finished, letting the words hang.
	He stared at her, for once surprised by her question.  “The vast
majority of us are male.  Females are quite rare.  While we are capable of
mating, we very seldom do so, nor feel a need to.”  He gave a slight smirk.
“We are not born the way your race is, from a union of a male and female.”
	“How are you born, then?” she asked, thoroughly intrigued.
	“We are carved from rock.  Some of us are granted life by a powerful
spellcaster, others by a god of whatever church we’re created to decorate,
and many by Gaia herself.”
	To Lereece, it sounded very confusing.  She rubbed her temples,
staring down at nothing in particular as she processed it all.  Looking back
at Granit, she spoke evenly, “Let me get this straight.  You are capable of
sex, but you have no urge to actually have sex.”  The statue nodded.  She
couldn’t help but glance between his legs, where at this time there was no
obvious genitalia.  She quickly looked back to his face.  He wasn’t as
attractive as humans that she knew, but he wasn’t as hideous as most would
imagine such a creature to be.  “So, were I to undress and show interest in
mating with you, would be aroused?”
	He nodded.  “Yes.  I am quite capable of enjoying the act.”  He
shrugged his wings, his shoulders held still.  “I have no urge to seek it
out, as it is not necessary that we gargoyles reproduce.”
	The young woman stared at the creature, all number of thoughts
running through her head.  She was no stranger to sex.  Being a woman, and an
attractive one, she had fallen victim to any number of charms and compulsion
spells of practicing male mages.  The mages were very much red blooded
humans, and when the spells took hold of her, they almost immediately took
advantage of her sexually.  Because Mak’daan (a very evil and uncaring man)
was the current Archmage of Tower Naerwul, the men who had essentially raped
her were never punished.  Only outright murder and theft ever warranted any
sort of justice, and that was if the perpetrator could be proven.
	Early on, Lereece had learned to resist enchantment spells.  She had
never become strong enough to be completely immune to them, but she could
shrug off most of the charms and compulsions that were frequently thrown at
her.  While she was denied justice, she found that revenge of a sort was easy
enough to come by.  Nonetheless, while under the effects of charm spells, the
sex she engaged in was enjoyable.  Mere sex wasn’t the only thing she had
been exposed to, however.  For almost a year, she had to eat semen daily to
remain healthy, as the result of one spell cast by a particularly perverted
wizardling.  It took a lot of intense study, but she had finally managed to
rid herself of that baleful transmutation.  Another spell (that she had yet
to get rid of) made it such that, while she was as tight as a virgin, she
could, with effort, stretch to fit nearly any size member, without hurting
herself.  Not too long ago she had reversed a spell that put her into an
extremely heightened state of heat, such that she would be aroused beyond
reason by even the slightest sexual advance.  At twenty seven years of age,
she seemed to have finally gained a semblance of control over her sex life.
	Somewhere mixed in with the numerous encounters she’d had with those
who relied upon subtle or outright forms of mind control to gain her
affection, she had actually had a few encounters for which she had been
willing.  Unfortunately, all three of the men she had liked of her own free
will had left for Alkemia.
	Here she sat now, in front of a creature that she admired and
respected, who had just informed her that he had no sexual urges.  Curiosity
sparked within her, and she stood up, walking slowly around him, looking up
and down his earthen form.  He looked like smoothly carved and well polished
stone, even if a bit weathered.  What would it be like, she wondered, to be
the one pursuing such actions, instead of being the pursued?  She was not
bothered by intercourse, foreplay, or any number of other things.  She
generally found it quite enjoyable.  However, she had always hated the fact
that she had been manipulated into the situation, and did not like her
‘partners’.  Even now, she couldn’t help but be suspicious.  Lereece stopped
circling Granit and started muttering a spell, her mind focused on herself.
The divining spell showed that she was not under any sort of magic
compulsion.
	The woman opened her eyes, and looked up at the gargoyle with a
slight smile.  “Do you find me attractive..?” she asked huskily, shifting her
hips to the side and placing one hand on her thigh.  She certainly didn’t
feel very sexy, clothed in large brown robes that hid most of her figure.
	The gargoyle seemed to look at her in a new light, though his visage
was still calculating and more than a little practical.  “Yes, I find your
figure appealing, though most of it is hidden beneath your clothes.  I’m
certain that fucking you would be thoroughly enjoyable.  Why?”
	She giggled at his words, blunt and yet somehow appealing to her
young mind.  “It’s interesting,” she commented, her words sounding a bit more
sultry than she intended, “that a creature who has his own appeal can…” she
paused, searching for the right words as she watched him.  “You can be so
aloof, and yet acknowledge that making love to me,” she didn’t want to use
vulgar words, “would be wonderful.”  She stepped closer to him, close enough
for him to inhale her very feminine scent.  She dared to draw her fingers
down his shoulder.  His skin was cold and hard, but smooth in its own right.
“I’m not certain how to explain this,” she said softly, “but I think I should
like you as more than just a friend and source of knowledge.  I’m not usually
one to want that of a man.”
	Granit listened and watched her with a stony gaze.  He only allowed
her fingers to travel a short distance down his arm before he reached out and
grabbed her wrist.  He did not twist it or squeeze it, but held it away from
his shoulder.  “I did indeed admit to the appeal of your body, but such acts
are not only of a physical nature,” he grumbled.  “The last thing I want to
deal with is you being more attached to me than you already are.”  He sneered
as he let go of her.  “Were I to engage in such an act with you, I would have
to deal with more than just your incessant questions.  I would be forced to
reckon with your emotions and incomprehensible notions of love.”
	Perhaps it was because of the forced nature of most of her previous
relationships.  Perhaps it was just a crazed mind of a girl who had been
raised around very few other women.  At that moment in time, something in her
mind was forged, and she now found herself in dire want.  Rejection was
turning her on.
	Lereece squirmed beneath her robes, wishing she’d gone without
undergarments.  “I’d be lying if I said I love you,” she murmured, leaning
her entire body against him, wrapping a leg around him as best she could,
dressed the way she was.  “Please me just this once,” she begged, looking at
him less like a pleading child and more like the aroused woman she was.  She
found that he did not push her back this time.  Draping herself around him
was like cuddling a sculpture at first, though she did feel a response at the
juncture of his thighs, where a bulge began to press against her leg.
	“If you *only* want to fuck,” he said evenly, “I will grant you that.
Prove yourself a liar, and you’ll never see me again.”  His claws moved with
unexpected speed and shred the heavy robe she had been wearing, ribbons of
useless cloth falling around her.  As brutal as the act was, he managed it
without harming her.  She fell back at his sudden perceived ferocity, until
she realized that she wasn’t hurt.  She stood on the roof wearing only
undergarments, standing atop a pile of brown rags.  He advanced again, but
she held up her hand.
	“Wait,” she gasped, her breathing quick already.  She kicked the
scraps into a pile and kicked off the sandals that had covered her feet.  She
then moved her hands up to her brassier, which she guided up and over her
pert breasts, bringing dark, hard nipples into view.  She dropped it beside
the pile of what was once her robe, then moved her hands to her waist.  She
slipped a couple fingers between her hips and the top part of the panties,
then guided them slowly down, revealing a slit that was drenched and clearly
ready to be pounded into oblivion.  Once they cleared her thighs she let them
drop to the ground and stepped out of them.  Aside from what was on her head,
her entire body was soft and hairless.
	Granit watched all this with a gaze that anyone else witnessing would
have thought was expressionless.  Lereece was familiar enough with him to
know that his expressions could be very subtle, and that he liked what he
saw.  What she had felt as a bulge was starting to form into a phallus.
Unlike the rest of the body, it lacked a weathered look and feel.  It was
clearly not yet fully extended.
	The woman dropped to her hands and knees and crawled forward the few
paces necessary to close the distance, then started licking eagerly over the
quickly growing shaft.  She grabbed hold of one of his legs with one hand,
while the other moved beneath her and found her slit, giving herself a
fraction of the pleasure she wanted.  She took the stone member into her
mouth and marveled at the way it resembled polished marble.  The taste was
almost nonexistent, which was far better than others she had taken into her
mouth.  She didn’t know how much of an effect it would have, but she sucked
eagerly, swirling her tongue around the tip while her free fingers alternated
between rubbing her clit vigorously and jamming in and out of her haven.
	Granit leaned back just slightly, and if it was not for the fact that
he was swelling in her mouth, she felt she might find herself waking from a
dream, doing obscene things to an inanimate rock carving.  “You are
persistent, and skilled,” he observed.  It was so strange to the half-elf,
that she couldn’t detect a pulse of any kind, couldn’t hear any breath, and
yet she had the distinct impression he was enjoying himself.  Already he was
the size of an average man, but clearly had more to offer.  She let it slide
from her mouth and licked down the length to where the jewels should be, but
found that her tongue was now over a rough texture she should have expected.
Giving up on that, she quickly went back to the polished-smooth prick,
wrapping her lips around it and moving her tongue about it every way she
could think of.
	All too soon, she found that she could no longer keep him entirely in
her mouth, and nearly gagged before realizing it.  Ten inches and still
growing, she marveled, closing her eyes as she moaned into the stiffness.
Her fingers were working over herself at a frantic pace, but she couldn’t
bring herself to climax.  She needed it inside her.  As she was about to move
up to fulfill her want, she found her mouth flooded with the strangest seed
she had ever tasted.  It was salty, but somehow reminded her of brown sugar,
though it had a dry taste to it.  She was accustomed to swallowing semen, but
this was the first time she ever enjoyed it.  She swallowed it all, even
licked up the little bit she had missed that had slipped down the length of
his rod.
	Once she finished cleaning him up, she found that he had not shrunk
or softened at all, and she was ecstatic to take him inside her.  She looked
at his tool with open eyes now, and saw that it was nearly thirteen inches
long.  It lacked the girth of some she’d seen, but she had no doubt it could
satisfy her.  She looked up the length of his body and into his glowing red
eyes.  She licked her lips to make sure she hadn’t missed any of the tasty
treat, and then moved up his body sensuously until she had her slit pressed
into his tip.
	While he had been nearly inanimate while she sucked him off, now he
was far more active, his arms moving around her body, feeling her soft skin
and gentle curves, noting just how much they contrasted with his own form.
She slipped her arms around the back of his neck to steady herself as she
began her descent onto his slightly curved member, and found his hands on her
rear, squeezing even as he eased her down.  His weathered hide did not bother
her; the shaft made it more than worth it to bear the light abrasion.  She
moaned with abandon, forgetting where she was and what danger she might face
if she were discovered.  Her heart pounded in her chest, a light sweat
beading on her body in spite of the cool night air.
	“Grab my horns,” the gargoyle said steadily, and Lereece only
hesitated for a moment before complying.  She reached up past his head and
grasped the stone horns, which she found could easily bear her weight.
However, he did not make her do the work on her own.  His hands lifted and
dropped her along his length, slipping in and out of her haven smoothly.  A
fine coating of her nectar soon covered his member.  She whined and moaned,
kissing at his neck and chest, not deterred by the rough texture.  She
bounced up and down quickly, mashed her breasts against his firm, sculpted
chest, and ground herself into him every time she came down, rubbing her clit
as much as she could manage.
	“Gods, YES!” she cried, reaching a climax easily.  Her inner muscles
clamped around him, gripping him and finding that no matter how hard she
squeezed, he never gave.  It seemed to be constantly growing within her,
though the living stone rod remained the same.  She moaned loudly with
abandon, grinding down onto him.
	She only came down partially from the high, realizing quickly that it
was far from over.  She panted and gyrated against him, his body shifting to
accent and compliment her motions, driving her wild until she screamed her
way into a second orgasm.  Still she rode on, though at that point it seemed
he was doing most of the work.  She felt herself being pounded into over and
over again, and could do little more than moan and bask in it all.
	“Oh, Gods… Oh, Gods…” she moaned, “Dersel!  Eilefane!  Gaia!
Nymore!”  She screamed the names of the god of half-breeds, magic, nature,
and sex one after another.  About the time that she thought she would pass
out from sheer bliss, Granit gripped her tightly and pounded into her over a
dozen times in five seconds; it was as though he had only now come to life.
She could only moan loudly as it seemed all her energy pooled between her
legs, milking his member desperately until he finally came, his seed filling
her and then some.  It shot into her over and over again in heavy strands,
giving her more than she’d ever had in her life.
	She had no idea how long she rested with him inside her, while he
stood and supported their combined weight.  She only knew it wasn’t long
enough.  Thoughts gradually forced their way back into her head, and she
managed to gather enough strength to pull herself up off of the most
enjoyable ride she had ever experienced.  Lereece dropped to her knees, as
much to rest as to nestle her face against his rod, which was slowly starting
to recede.  She quickly licked it clean, savoring the taste of the unusual
seed.  When she finished, she watched with a measure of disappointment as the
member vanished.
	“You need to leave,” Granit hissed, “Now.”  He turned and hopped back
to the ledge where she had found him, and assumed a pose that matched that of
the inanimate, unthinking guardians of the library.
	Lereece sat panting on the remains of her robe, an inordinate amount
of fresh semen flowing from her raw but pleased sex.  She reached between her
legs and scooped up a handful, drinking it and giggling to herself at how
good the tangy but sweet flavor was.
	It was then that the head librarian burst through the hatch that led
to the roof.  He froze when he saw her, his eyes wide with shock.  The
half-elven woman was sitting on rags, her body obviously freshly taken
advantage of; licking some unknown man’s seed off her hand as more continued
to flow from between her legs.  They stared at each other for a moment before
the man screamed and jumped back down to the second floor, then ran off
screaming, “Guards!  Help!  Half-breed!  Whore!  On the roof!”
	Lereece cursed herself as she stood up on shaking legs.  “Dersel,”
she whined, “please let me live through this.”  Swallowing hard, she forced
herself to calm down.  It was not an easy thing to do, but she needed to cast
spells, and that meant concentration.  Blocking out the rest of the world,
she focused on the few spells she had readied in her mind.
	First, she chanted through a short rhyme in some forgotten language.
She inflected the words perfectly, twisted and hummed through the pauses, and
soon she felt the effects wash over her.  The spell she had cast made
everything seem shorter, such that jumping and landing would be as easy for
her as an oversized grasshopper.
	She heard the running of booted feet beneath her, but she knew better
than to rush the second spell.  She started into another low chant, her arms
moving about to complete arcane gestures that complimented the words, shaping
the energy she had spent years learning to utilize.  This spell seemed to
take a painfully long time to cast.  The hatch burst open once again and a
helmed figure dressed in chain mail climbed up on the roof and started toward
her, a shield in one hand and a mace in the other.  “Stand down, freak!” he
yelled, but she completed the spell and vanished from sight.
	She stepped quickly but quietly to the side, now shivering in the
cold night air.  The figure advanced toward where she had been, glancing
around carefully.  “Magic user!” he called to the figure climbing up behind
him.  “If you hear anything, put a bolt toward it.”  The second figure was
dressed the same, but held a large and very dangerous looking crossbow in his
hands, which he kept aimed in front of him as he looked back and forth over
the roof.
	Lereece stood dead still, not sure what she was going to do.  She
still felt a combination of Granit’s and her own juices dribbling down her
thighs, which she quickly scooped up a portion of to keep it from dropping to
the ground.  She knew anything she ‘dropped’ would give away her location.
She gulped down what she had scooped up, hardly giving herself time to enjoy
it as she slowly backed toward the wall where the gargoyle was now frozen.
	The first guard swung his mace in a wide arc in front of him, then
stepped forward and gave another wild swing.  It would catch her square in
the side, once he was close enough.  “It’s still up here?” the second guard
asked, the crossbow held up in front of him.
	“Yeah, she’s still here,” sneered the first guard.  “Damn mage can’t
cast a spell without making noise, though, and we’ll get her then.”  Lereece
only had a few seconds before the cautious man would be upon her.  She
crouched down like a frog, gathered her strength, and then leapt up into the
air.  The magic carried her several dozen feet into the air, but a good deal
of semen that had leaked from her snatch was compelled by gravity to stay
behind, giving her former location away.  “There!” the first guard cried,
pointing.  The second fired his bolt right over the location, and it struck
the unfeeling statue behind.
	The mage had enough horizontal momentum from the leap to clear the
statues and the wall on her way down before landing neatly far below on her
feet, crouched down like a cat as she glanced around fearfully.  Several more
guards were approaching, but they were headed toward the library door, where
the frantic librarian was waving to them.  They were oblivious to her because
of the magic that hid her from sight.  Sighing quietly with relief, she stood
and started quickly but quietly back toward the tower.
	“Thank you, Dersel,” she murmured quietly as she hurried away from
the city and the people whom she could never live among.  Her stomach churned
with hunger after the expenditure of energy that night, so for that time she
satisfied it with a bit more of the flavorsome seed Granit had left her with.
	Walking toward her home, she finally took time to think on what all
had happened in a very brief span of time.  First, she was going to have to
deal with the books that would likely be burned as soon as anyone literate
looked at them.  None were one-of-a-kind, fortunately, but she would have to
make replacement copies.  That would take a day per tome.
	Second, Granit had dismissed her very coldly after he had climaxed.
Her earliest thoughts were that he no longer wanted to have anything to do
with her, but the clenching sensation in her chest eased when she realized
that he must have heard the librarian’s approach before she did.  During the
escapade, he radiated control, while Lereece knew she hadn’t been quiet by
any measure in her ecstasy.  She had no regrets about the act itself.  Her
body still felt quite satisfied, even with the mess running down her legs.
	Her thoughts drifted back to the beginning of the encounter, when he
had so savagely ripped her clothes off.  She figured now that his natural
instincts were to blame, based on what he had said of his kin.  He stood
apart from them, but was still one of them.  Again, it wasn’t something she
had minded.  She had enough sense in the heat of the moment to preserve her
undergarments, but given the rude interruption she hadn’t had time to
retrieve them.  She heaved a heavy sigh at the thought of how she was going
to return home.  Entry wasn’t difficult.  Saving face, however, would prove
an insurmountable task in her current state.
	Lereece moved with uncanny speed, unencumbered as she was, and an
hour before dawn’s light began to spill over the horizon, she was at the
tower doors.  She paced back and forth in front of the door in a near panic,
not having put enough thought in as to what she was going to do now.  She was
still invisible, but numerous splotches of white sticky fluid marked the
ground where she paced.
	Her mind raced through what options she might have.  She didn’t have
any spells in mind to conjure up clothing, and not having her spell book with
her meant that she wasn’t going to memorize any while she needed them.
Remaining invisible wasn’t going to help much, as most mages had a way of
seeing through simple illusions like invisibility.  She didn’t have a spell
of darkness in mind with which to cover her body, either.  The few protective
spells she had in mind did not cover her visually.
	She decided she would simply have to deal with the embarrassment.
She reached gingerly between her legs, feeling her slit, still oozing with
cream and very much satisfied.  She promised herself it was worth it.  She
scooped up a bit more of the sticky substance and brought it to her lips
before licking her hand clean.
	“Open the door!” she called.  “This is Lereece Everyoung, though I’ve
no wish to freely reveal my current state,” she finished through grit teeth.
She knew she was now being watched by someone who could see through her
spell.  In spite of herself, she shivered in the cold, her nipples very much
erect.
	She waited for what seemed like an eternity, but the door finally
swung open, and a man dressed in red and black robes stood behind them.  He
was nearly a foot taller than her, though looked as though he lacked the
strength to open the heavy doors in front of him.  “Aah, Lereece,” Donovan
chuckled, looking her up and down with a slight white glow in his eyes.  The
divination in effect was obvious to her.  “You’re a brave one, and a foolish
one at that.  Perhaps you should make your way to my chambers.  I can
certainly help you deal with any remaining needs of a carnal nature, and give
you a new set of clothes.”  His words carried the weight of a spell, but the
young woman was too accustomed to it, and shrugged it off easily, especially
when she knew it was coming ahead of time.
	“Thank you for the offer,” she said sarcastically, “but I doubt you
could measure up to the one who left me in such a state.”  She hurried past
him into the tower, making her way swiftly through passages it had taken her
years to learn.
	Most of the hallways were barren stone, but warm enough to be
comfortable so long as one didn’t stop to rest.  Here and there paintings
were hung to give the inside of the tower a somewhat more welcoming feel to
it, but no one paid them any mind.  Lereece’s heart pounded unceasingly in
her chest as she rushed through the section of the tower that housed the
living quarters.  She must have squeezed her way past a dozen wizards and
mages, most of them eyeing her with a smirk.  One even paused long enough to
dispel the invisibility that hid her from the eyes of a few.
	She didn’t stop, she didn’t greet anyone, and she wasn’t even certain
she had exhaled and drawn a second breath before she opened the door to her
room and slammed it shut behind her.  At that time she took several long,
deep breaths, leaning against the door.  The light she had spent some time
perfecting over the years flared to life above the center of the room.  “Dear
Gods,” she murmured, “please don’t put me through that again.  I swear upon
my craft I’ll try not to land myself in such a situation in the future.”  She
pushed herself up from the door and looked around her dorm.
	It was just as she remembered it.  Lightly furnished, it sported a
bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and two doors that lead to her lab and the bathroom.
The floor was neatly hidden beneath several exotic furs she’d saved for
months to purchase.  Overall, it had a comfortable feel to it for her.  She
traced her way to the desk, and then knocked three times on the top drawer
before muttering a few words of passage.  The drawer opened, and she pulled
out the heavy tome that served as her spell book.
	She flipped through a few pages until she found the spell she wanted.
“*Vutharien Del’eskner esTarnedal*!” she read, the words flowing from the
page to her mouth and into the room.  The air responded by coalescing into a
vaguely humanoid form less than four feet in height.  Were it not for the
waver in air, it would have been invisible.  “Go prepare a warm bath, then
have my bed and pillows fluffed and ready,” she told the conjured creature.
It bowed in submission before moving off to follow the instructions it had
been given.
	Lereece, like most wizards, loved the convenience her craft offered.
While the bath she needed was prepared, she fetched a book of only slightly
less importance from her desk, her journal.  She sat down in her padded
chair, heedless of the mess she was creating, and set about writing of the
day’s events.  About the time she finished with her entry, she knew that her
bath was ready by the return of the servant, on his way to the bed.  “When
you’re finished with your second task, clean my chair,” she added to it.  The
servant did not complain.
	She put her journal and spell-book away before standing and
stretching.  She made her way to the bathroom and slipped into the steaming
water, sighing with relief.  After thoroughly cleaning her body (between her
legs took some time to fully cleanse) and washing her hair, she stepped out
of the bath and toweled off.  In her room, the servant was gone, its tasks
completed.  She slipped into the bed and said softly, “Schlaef.”  The light
went out.