Archive of Our Own

12th of Laurelin, Our 1389th Year, Isolde’s Calendar

The winds of change blow fiercely from the Far East.

As I write, the Yulong Dynasty of distant Shanjia, thousands of li across the vast expanse of the Nan-Yun continent, is suffering its fiercest revolt in centuries. It has already spread far beyond its borders into the neighboring Gui Provinces, where the Gushi Confederation is locked in a desperate struggle with the new rebels and their leader, whom the Shanjians describe as a demagogue called The Just Avenger.

Our fellow powers in the West watch on with idle fascination and schadenfreude at the sight of former might crumbling. Even the other two Tianzhu kingdoms of the Nan-Yun are expected to capitalize on the turmoil, carving themselves larger territories now that the most powerful state of the great continent has been caught vulnerable.

I pray that whatever misery befalls the poor people of Shanjia, peace be restored soon.

17th of Laurelin, Our 1389th Year, Isolde’s Calendar

A Sancrystan has made his way into our city.

Our relations with the Sancrystans are kept cordial and dutiful, owing to their close and important trade with the city of Rona. The trading ports are less than a hundred leagues or so apart. Many of my kin see humans as the merchant race they are and are inclined to treat them and their nations diplomatically, if not pleasantly.

I had always thought that prudent. Their people may not share in many of the noble pursuits we hold dear, but their dedication and productivity are undeniable, and I suppose for that much credit must be given to the shrewd men of the City-State.

But our Sancrystan here had not come to our blessed Eldrathiel as a merchant selling wares and trinkets.

A second son of a magistrate, rumors say that Sebastian—for that is his name—found himself exiled from his home through the machinations of his cruel brother. With only the clothes on his back and a handful of coin, he had braved the turbulent open seas to escape their eastern shores. Seeking to better his station, he determined his course west and washed up at Rona shortly afterward. He followed the River Lenos all the way north and through our countryside to Eldrathiel, resplendent and ancient amid fertile farms and beautiful glens.

Word of a human interloper travels faster than light itself. Many of the fairer nymphs and spirits of the woodland whispered to me. Elves watched from the shadows as the little vagabond crossed into our territory, many considering him trespassing into sacred places under his presence alone, and not limited to trespass, already planning for his demise if he dared touch another strand of grass in defiance of elven grace.

He had not quite done that. They say he has taken both residence and profession with a local apothecary in the outer districts, impressing her with his skills in medicine and intelligence. If he truly does hope to stay in our lands, then I pray he proves himself more agreeable than most would dare admit.

Perhaps the city council will weigh his utility and elect to accept him as one of Eldrathiel's own. Until such time, our domain may allow his human feet to tread within it in peace.

29th of Laurelin, Our 1389th Year, Isolde’s Calendar

The Kingdom of Atuhl is in mourning.

There has been no short end of misery overmuch for the peoples of their domain. King Sesallu the First, reigning for sixty-two years and siring one royal heir before his wife perished in childbirth, has finally been struck down by the terrible illness of old age. His heir had also died in the recent year, said to have been a strong man but succumbing nonetheless.

His grandson, young Huanu, was left with little option but to take the throne and continue his family’s legacy. The day of the king's funeral saw the procession into and through their famed Halls of Woe.

Huanu shall indeed bear the weight of kingship on his shoulders.

As for more local affairs, my duties as High Priestess have hardly subsided for as many tasks as they leave me well-satisfied in preparation of a grand occasion. A month hence, at the turn of the full moon, will herald the three days of Argeniðia, during which the people of Eldrathiel reflect and rejoice in remembrance of those taken. A great tournament of feats, performances, and arts shall take place in the heart of the city, conducted for the city council's discretion as to the worthiest of the honors bestowed.

Let all have joy in us now and in the cycles to come.

3rd of Sumraen, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

The Sancrystan I wrote of weeks prior did end up with an audience in front of the city's ruling council.

To everyone's surprise, and in particular my own, the elders were swayed. The apothecary I heard tell of brought him personally to the council, laying out the evidence of his talents to display. His grasp of remedies, incantations, and potions was admittedly impressive and perhaps, even by our own 'well-rooted' standards, somewhat novel. With an appeal to both their sentiments and their tastes, they relented, willing to humor his ambitions as long as they brought only good to our halls.

Truly, this Sebastian seems to embody the can-do attitude of his race.

I had the pleasure of seeing the human myself, his sharp green eyes meeting my own alongside the tall, statuesque elf who vouched for him. He bore himself not with the typical skittishness of his lesser folk, proudly standing erect, speaking not a single falsehood or lie, and all the while treating the very elves whom had doubted him with humbleness and respect. While he had come prepared with some knowledge of our language, his skill for it improved tenfold the longer we spoke together in the same room.

Where he will be lodging by himself, that still eludes us. We will be sure he finds somewhere suitable and just, if he proves his integrity beyond words. As this will be the first long-term presence of a human in Eldrathiel, we will be studying our guest’s impact on the city most thoroughly.

6th of Sumraen, Our 1390th Year, Isolde’s Calendar

I chanced upon the Sancrystan during his visit to one of our libraries.

Meeting him in the open air of the terrace brought greater certainty to the thought that this Sebastian was a man of earthly appeal. Taller than the average male of his kind, his face and carriage were of fine make, even his mop of chestnut-brown hair streaked and handsome with an indomitable square jaw. I felt the air of assuredness he moved with and wondered if most men of the East thought like him.

But unlike the arrogance I often witnessed with his kind, he seemed far from conceited, even when many others—including some of my fellow sisters-in-faith—gawked as I greeted him. Every question asked of me, he listened to wholeheartedly, his intensity on the brink of fixation.

None were quite as probing as when he insisted on my forgiveness of any inconvenience, any 'meaningless antipathy' he had expressed, only making my amusement deepen. How little he knew of his effect on this city! Regardless, I promised his commitment would go unquestioned unless he committed a true trespass, ensuring him that his acceptance so far was honest.

Sebastian bowed politely and turned to leave—he had other engagements to tend to, of course—and for the briefest of moments, the corner of his mouth curved upward ever so slightly, as if he was hinting at something in that hidden smile of his.

It piqued my curiosity more than I would have expected.

11th of Sumraen, Our 1390th Year, Isolde’s Calendar

It seems Sebastian has acclimated himself better in Eldrathiel than originally anticipated.

Amid his healing duties, he had begun training as a martial adept, learning from our finest practitioners and duelists how to effectively wield a blade while plying his other skills further to discover still more properties of the arts we employed. Numerous nymphs, sprites, and dryads have reported his frequent trips among their ancient rivers and trees to commune with their spirits, seeking a better understanding of nature's interconnectedness. Those present in their conversations sang him praises. For the vast majority of them, it had been their first encounter with an actual human of flesh and blood. The fact Sebastian found their own company comfortable was another unexpected indicator of his respect and uniqueness.

Alas, his success in impressing our community had come at the cost of distracting them, I fear.

If our fairer folk are so enthralled by the exotic comeliness of this human, it cannot have escaped him. The strange titters and giggles as he passed by, the stolen glances, the furtive peeks, one would hardly call them veiled. Even now as I write, our fair maidens speak in small groups at a distance, their secret discourse reserved for him, yet Sebastian remains steadfast in tending to the injured and ailing before him. Is he content to ignore such overt invitations in favor of duty?

Perhaps... he revels in this appeal. To know he has the effect he desires upon the fragile hearts and bodies of elven women, leaving them as breathless and dumbfounded as a newborn fawn at even the simplest word. He could teach them lessons in self-denial and self-control, instilling upon each of them the virtue of chastity without a single word or gesture until the moment he intends to—

Oh! I would never let my imagination run too hot.

I shall stop writing. I hope that I am proven wrong in Sebastian's case. May the Moon and Stars light our weary paths and restore our vigor.

15th of Sumraen, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

In the southernmost reaches of our fair nation, the great valley of Methryn holds a most sacred spot: Everlyth, the greatest home of our esteemed Grandmasters since the time of Kelvaria the Undying, a realm where art and architecture meet and become one in the form of glorious white-washed towers and grand statues dotting the landscape.

One of their number, an old friend by the name of Galadier, has elected to venture west to the halfling country of Verduk for some unknowable task. I pray that her mission bears its desired fruit.

In more local news, Sebastian, that damnable human of devilish wit and charm, had accrued enough wealth to purchase property within our noble city on his own! Serenity Heights is, truthfully, among the less noble destinations—not that this means anything to the likes of him—but the view it offers of the skyline has been praised as of late.

In a strange move, he immediately announced to the council that no matter what may be said of him, this home would be to serve not just himself but any ailing person who came to our side of the world for treatment. Any in need would receive free lodging at his behest, to have their bodies strengthened and restored through whatever remedies if the local specialists would have them. Our healers of higher status thought to laugh at the audacious plan he put forward. In the council's wisdom, I believe, they granted his notion of goodwill.

May clearer skies return soon.

29th of Sumraen, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Ah, I fear Sebastian has taken a strong hold on even my sistren, lulling their proud hearts into a strange, hypnotic thrall.

It was proved when Argeniðia began and it was he who best displayed our native knowledge and culture. Nearly everyone had judged his prowess below ours, an expectation he intended on redressing, for his execution was most spectacular. Several of my fellow elves went dancing with him to the awe of our people and the glares of envious middling maidens. It amused me greatly to watch many of the traditionalists fuming inwardly.

The following three days will be long and joyful. Our annual celebration was as much about honoring the departed as it was venerating us, the living. As is custom in the sanctum that is Eldrathiel, the city gathered around to admire our pinnacle. Those of nobility led a parade to begin the ceremonial preparations, myself foremost among the priestesses, followed by those of our warrior-orders in armored processions.

The council's eldest matriarch, the esteemed Mother Valesse, opened up the proceedings. She spoke of the sorrow we carried with us every day, the loss we felt in our sacred honor. My heart filled with her every word as if it were being whispered just for me. How could she not share her pain, as I do my people and myself?

I took my place at the front of the gathered crowd, joining the other elder clergy in casting the necessary incantation. When the portal opened, I felt many a tear caught in my eyelashes, the visages of my late elder sister and parents appearing beyond the doorway, but far too distant, unable to return and give us even the faintest touch. Alas, we could not stare for long, or else we sacrifice the great honor they gave us.

No matter where we fall, they guide us home.

2nd of Hæstice, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Sebastian crossed paths with me near the marketplace while enjoying the clearest summer day we've had for weeks.

As we made small talk, he seemed truly relaxed—any care for his appearance had ebbed. He did not have a set destination, hoping to simply bask in the beauty of this morning while relishing whatever may appear. Under the sun is where we thrive, he proclaimed. I told him that he would notice this plenty and much more in our fair lands.

At my invitation, we wound our way northeast to the coastline to where an outcropping of stone lay, carved and hewn to the whims of those that might come. To many among the faithful, these ancient crags stood as the boundary to our ancient domain, granting us some certainty in our land and our history, our past and our present.

Sitting atop its lip, we gazed out at the crystal ocean and its rising sun, at the seabirds gliding in its warming sky.

Then I felt his gaze shift.

It was but a flash. Inconsequential.

It mattered to me only because I knew it was not the sun. And what else could I have thought if not that Sebastian was looking at me in another light, as if for the first time? That the softness I beheld in his evergreen stare was real? Did his breathing quicken so? Did my own?

In but a moment, his face shifted back again. He'd not slipped long. There was silence between us as the waves lapped at the shores beneath our feet.

Before we returned, I looked at the skies and marveled at the splendor and certainty the heavens brought to me. And though it waned in light, the bright disc of Isolde's Eye shining over our eastern range promised no new hardship would come to plague the morning that brought me to him.

In silent unity, my human companion and I would let it remain, come what may.

7th of Ainalis, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Oh, Moon and Stars, what is he doing to me?

Wherever it is I direct my attentions, his form occupies my thoughts. No priestess would ever dare entertain desires such as mine, even if I were mortal. I always insisted those lowly impulses were meaningless to one devoted as High Priestess. But they plague me more and more often, and every night after the coming of dark, they keep me company.

Of course, Sebastian has only been solicitous and mannerly around me, the epitome of decency. So much so that I wished to pull at my hair. How difficult it was becoming to not get the impulse to simply grab hold of that curly mess and—

...

Away with this line of thinking. It brings only misery.

10th of Ainalis, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Elders curse him.

He simply must be enjoying the thrill of leading on and teasing. Torturing. Every time I close my eyes, I sense him. Watching. Imagining, even as he denies me directly. That lustrous and deceptively earnest look on his face and in his eyes will do me in.

Three days. We have just not spoken enough at all! This is foolish, this is maddening. Must I descend to begging, to throwing myself at him? Never could I ever lower myself to—

—never had I considered this possibility.

What if...

...Oh, Moon and Stars, what if...

...Perhaps I could tempt him. Perhaps he is holding back because he does not believe me willing to indulge in these sinful fancies. That would be the first point of order. Or might he have not chosen to, in plain fact, hide it from me better to test my strength if I were wholly unable to bed a man not of my people? To break my sacred vows as High Priestess through such licentiousness?

Those, admittedly, would be quite difficult to conceive of. It simply stands against everything I've learned or seen about Sebastian's character. A man most prone to being upfront about his actions in life and what exactly his word is worth, he strikes me as one dedicated to exacting integrity and complete truth above all else, traits dear to my own heart.

...I will need more evidence. There will be nothing but hypothesis until then. We shall wait. He shall surely beckon first, but we shall see what words I use next.

15th of Ainalis, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

The young lord Dardíros, brother to Lady Ariella of Vandetzi, had just arrived back into Eldrathiel with a bundle of scrolls containing a vast wealth of artisan lore. After asserting the usefulness of their study and promising it to my satisfaction, he is indeed an exemplar youth in terms of both physique and mind, eager to further our craft. Even if I cannot trust his taste in swordsmanship, I concede he may be talented indeed in the visual arts.

At any rate, he paid me a visit this afternoon at my manor. Always finding delight in social visits, we engaged in wholesome conversation for a good while, he still as fond of archery as when he last demonstrated. He spoke of his upbringing in the woodland settlement of Felhimeir, a small town on the banks of the Lenos upriver in the southern forests. With such intimate knowledge of the environment, it did not take long to recall how excellent he proved when foraging in the land.

Wise and skilled as the elders saw him, Dardíros claimed himself satisfied with simpler concerns, insisting that the material needs of food and shelter must always come before dreams of anything loftier, like that of a master bowyer, let alone Grand Councilor. Whichever would be, he knew he would live a just, simple life. Perhaps that explains the air of virtue so common to him.

If only every elf had his selfless modesty, and if only every man shared his prudence...

Sebastian would stand heads above all the others, and not merely for his physical height. I would rather think his spirit shone brighter. But perhaps I am not in my soundest mind.

Gods, my ardor is unbearable. By now, even with our continued glances, it seems time and caution cannot dull it. Or perhaps I haven’t the wherewithal to persist anymore. What use is it to hold back the tide?

...Very well, then. He must be made to answer one of my questions, as one could not trust their eyes alone to observe the truth. If he believes—fears, I am unwilling, he can test me and free his anxieties once and for all, releasing us into the bliss his gaze suggests.

But to know if I am wanted...

First, I shall choose to hold it in when I greet him tomorrow. Surely, the sight of him and the lack of reaction or reception will prove most troubling. He must come to me and force himself, in no uncertain terms, to say what he longs for. After that, we can play this little game of arousing each other's fever to its ultimate, disastrous conclusion.

16th of Ainalis, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

I am a maiden no longer.

Tonight, I write this entry beside Sebastian's slumbering form, using what ink is left in his table's drawers. Sleep held no escape from him as I prayed for strength; the moment his mouth and body were on me, my will dissolved into dust. My traitorous, traitorous body ceded entirely, surrendering to him as if he were a god.

Everything became a haze of ecstasy and carnality: his lean, powerful body with its honeyed bronze skin all the more flawless under the candlelight; his lusty green eyes hungry and yearning for my attention; his thick, gorgeous shaft pounding deep into my sacred temple and showering it with his fiery nectar as I begged for more and screamed in rapture. How can the sinful allure of the lesser races make us capable of the unthinkable and unspeakable?

This goes beyond mere desire. Our very physiologies recognize one another, our beings more compatible in some essential, primal form that confounds the laws of divinity or nature!

Every caress, every kiss, even the gentlest acts of consideration lead deeper into those depths, the pleasures I know we can experience that go beyond, so much further beyond, how bland and lacking life has been without his presence. We have both kept away these burning yearnings with our duties and responsibilities to our kind, yes—but on that lonely night, the shroud was cast aside, and the only thing before us was a joy.

My passions are truly boundless when it comes to him. There is something indescribably right about how my legs splayed themselves apart, inviting Sebastian's warm hardness to treat itself as it thrust into me, driving me to delirium each time it scraped my sheath's delicate lining. Each time my insides writhed with perverse delight, his hunger encouraged mine, his gaze fixed on the spot where we were united. Did my maidenhood beckon him into my most vulnerable crevices, its silky suction a lure from which he cannot hope to escape?

Perhaps the prospect was reason enough. Whatever the case, I will not relent.

No measure of faith, no vows of chastity or prayer will claim mastery over a connection such as this. Not even my esteemed office can restrain it now. I longed for only him, all for him, and now he will know exactly that. If this taboo rites between us are a mistake, then I beg for him to help me see it to the bitter end. I will see it to its bitter end.

His musky-sweet nectar stirs inside my body and tempts my thoughts with images of a babe suckling between my tender breasts. Even as these depraved writings are set aside, my wet sheath already cries out desperately for him, asking why it is not filled again, over and over with every beat of my thrumming heart. That must mean we were meant to find one another, no?

How pure can something contaminated as lust be, if it leads to love and brings plenty to those once bereft?

17th of Ainalis, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

When Sebastian awoke, I was met with a mortification I was unprepared to confront.

I saw the astonishment, the fear, the burning shame of defiling a holy woman from a people he had grown to love. Seeing the evidence in my lap was indescribable. Nevertheless, I endured it, reassuring him as best I could with words that echoed some sense. As far as I knew, he'd done nothing against me. It was I who threw myself at him in fevered desperation! To cast blame on any other party but myself would dishonor what had brought us together.

Hardly any soul among his nor mine could have denied the natural culmination between us. I only had to make him understand that.

He grasped my intentions but not its weight, or perhaps more on myself than his new role. Regardless, I did what I could to emphasize how I wanted for him, how neither of our bodies would be able to withstand this torment, this repression. What I had desired of him, for the past few days, how the thought of our coupling had become nearly constant. It was not a transgression as some might imagine. If what had been shared was not a beautiful, sincere love—or at least was the seed that could bloom into it—then I care not if the whole world called for my fall from grace.

That alone appeared to dispel his qualms somewhat. As I made my best efforts to appear confident, firm in my convictions, and no less joyous for the privilege of our trysting, he eventually relented and accepted my logic. I was right. And with every fiber of my being, I was grateful.

Enough to dip my head between his thighs and lavish his powerful manhood once more.

Sebastian was shocked at my reaction. It was difficult to refrain from teasing. As a symbol of my willingness, I declared in no uncertain terms, whether his member filled my mouth or was nestled within my snug hole, my delectable form would always be his to enjoy.

From there, we lost ourselves again.

This second bout of mating carried over the hours and well into midday. Sebastian possesses an unprecedented fortitude that kept him rampant and hard and able. Some time was taken to allow us both a respite, to recover from the mind-shattering peaks achieved thus far, yet soon enough he would press me under him or bark to be straddled above. I accepted his vigorous appetites with naught but cries of encouragement.

He took me in a beastly manner. Again and again, I was mounted like a wench, split open by his engorged length. His roars of passion still fill my ears, but no less so does his tender devotion. Together, we shared hot fluids as the fruit of our loins, joined together in sweet congress. He emptied himself inside my womb, and when he chose otherwise, he showered the rest of my soft alabaster skin.

Our fever was unquenchable. As my sore slit's lips cling to his glorious pole with vice-like suction and our mingled effluence overwhelms my senses, my knees can scarcely hope to hide the sheen of my saliva-slickened climaxes. When I finally rest my trembling form, my nimble fingers move to explore the heavy deposits I cradle in my throat and innards. He plucked the most sensitive bud of flowers, ensuring I never doubted his manliness. The power and virility of his manhood seem like they could slake the mightiest beasts of the Great Grazhi Jungles.

If my womb does not quicken from this second breeding, I will weep bitter tears.

Oh, to have been lost and found!

19th of Ainalis, Our 1390th Year, Isolde’s Calendar

I still cannot shake the gleeful sensation of receiving Sebastian's seed. There must have been a great deal of fluid filling me. For days, I can barely leave my bedchambers. My legs bear the marks of his muscular, virile body moving between them. Over and over and over. To the point they bruised.

Whatever the case, my noble human now seems concerned that in unraveling me so wonderfully and freely, I might not have yet been prepared for the prospect of starting a family. As soon as he mentioned anything along those lines, my reply was prompt and expected: if he planted in me now, then all the better! Should his child take within me, there would be more reasons than ever to hold his hand. If life sprouted from our act, then even Isolde herself would not protest, and with the blessing of Her Light, how could its goodness be doubted?

These are not fears I will countenance. While lacking the benefit of a matron's instincts, I had gleaned some information into the matter and knew my body well enough to dismiss him. Being High Priestess entails an abundance of ritualistic preparations and protection. Should our connection bless me, I would see our hopes fulfilled and until then, we could celebrate each and every month of my missed courses until the fateful one presented itself!

We did not stay out of the bedding for very long. Sebastian's determination could not abide doing little else and would not allow himself even a fraction of time from my body. We kissed and touched, caressed and stroked, grinded against one another to ease the frayed tensions of the day. Before long, his virility returned, and another mating ensued.

Once the floodgates fell, the concerns in the world perished.

24th of Ainalis, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Days and nights became a frenetic, wanton blur, culminating in several occasions that I see little need to scribble as part of my private record.

The only reason for not revisiting each of the wicked depravities committed is to prevent its pages filling too fast, and the wear and tear upon its material becoming too quick. I may have the means to acquire more paper, but that does not mean I must allow it to happen. Nor does it mean I have to burden myself with such overzealous measures.

Thus, I will leave certain things unsaid. Some parts ought to be kept sacred and between us alone.

Alas, any visitor cannot have eyes upon this section anyhow. That must wait until Sebastian and I are made aware of a proper circumstance where it can be revealed. Is this heresy? Treason? Blasphemy? I don't care. I am more than willing to sacrifice my position of faith, to accept the consequences of breaking my vows, rather than submit and let others dictate the worth of this life without Sebastian's presence in it.

By whatever misfortune led him to this point on our world, I could not hope to bear going back to being a High Priestess without him to bask in after I learn of the sheer wonders I've always been missing. If we only have tonight to revel in our love and its fires, then I shall die happy regardless. Until the day is due, I can only say that his tongue and touch and form should be a delight known to every elf.

1st of Ormath, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Ah, a most blasphemous act...

What I write now is a startling development, beyond even my wildest foresight. Sebastian partook of my cunt within holy grounds. Aye, he sampled my fertile sanctuary as I knelt upon the holy altar of The Goddess, letting my human paramour take me for a sordid worshipping. I should have abhorred it!

The first time was daring enough. To have rutted like animals before the faces of our ancestors, any vestige of honor was forfeit! The insatiable onus of our pleasure was simply too much.

The last time he begged entrance within those sacred chambers, restraint was a distant thought. My duties and responsibilities demanded that any infractions met out should be both fair and stern, yet if he bent me over the altar while our sacrilege proceeded, I could not remain in good conscience. There was more to expect than just a cruel ruler demanding abject servitude. For if I allowed him to despoil me, the unthinkable might come into fruition, and I could never hope to regain the esteem of our people.

Pah! Every moment he spent within me meant it would be favorable so long as I had his lust to nourish me. Our acts have left little trace of this dark deed. Time will bring out an answer, but in those moments, I desired only the hard stiffness wedged within my tight sheath. With each upward thrust, more gracious effluence spewed free, and its warmth was met with grace. If his seed could take quickly and deep, would anyone really blame me for having him so harshly?

Within the sanctum... within Isolde's eyes!

Sebastian used me like an alleyway whore, a lusty tavern wench or some cheap dockside harlot. For some horrid, horrid reason, whatever insult or dishonor would drive me away from him or make him less appetizing to my core stayed far away. The more he ravished me, the more I thirsted! Such impure acts should have driven even the foulest creatures of a brothel to blush! Yet I, daughter of esteemed House Beirona, found myself begging for more and more of it. When his burning spear impaled me, it quenched all doubt, replaced only by the rising tide of bliss in the pit of my belly. What a strange, forbidden thing pleasure is.

My insides were so grateful for their master's mighty shaft, my mouth likewise delighted in swallowing every spurt his deliciousness splashed against the roof of my mouth and gushed down my throat. Had not the sound of footsteps stirred us away from that sacred, holy place, we may have lingered overlong in our debauchery. One more defilement to stow away!

Whatever Sebastian has done, a part of me cannot help but surrender wholly to his tender caresses. The parts his mouth cannot kiss, the fingers do. And if neither are content, the hot poker straining his robes awaits its turn. When he is not mounting me in the manner of a stallion at stud, he's often lost within my breasts or demanding attention to his manhood. But which part of me doesn't spend equal time beset by his oral attentions, by those wicked digits pressing against my back tunnel?

O Moon and Stars, I almost pray to return before Isolde's watchful eyes! Yet all other thoughts have fallen away! He ravished the High Priestess, then! He treated me as lesser than the lowest! He knew my embrace!

Enslaved as I am to the sinful craving he sears into my core, how could I ever find the heart to resist this invasion? Why in all that is right and decent should I turn away when that length grows eager and hard in its—

Moon and Stars, the sheer delight of his member within my soaked pussy is indescribable... I feel such emotions beyond what is right... how can it bring... I am... I am so lost, I...

4th of Ormath, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Our debauchery has risen beyond anything I can try to salvage with repentance. As a worshiper of The Goddess, I cannot even fathom how Sebastian beheld so deep into my soul to know how to indulge my senses in an intimacy I was oblivious to.

One of my sisters-in-faith, Anelia, confronted me during morning prayers. By the woods of Elmbark, she had witnessed us amid our last bout of sinful deviancy. She witnessed the wantonness of our mating and the sheer, unbridled lust in my demeanor. How do I answer for it?

I made Sebastian bed her as well.

Like a lustful snake, I coiled around my friend and sowed temptation that could not be denied, leaving the poor, naïve thing with little recourse but to consent. If I was guilty, then why let my deeds stay in a shadowed corner, to not have her play as I did? At every chance to speak, my arms ran through her and cupped places not allowed among our faith: bouncing breasts, swaying hips, well-formed rumps and lower lips. She could only gasp as my body pressed its smooth curves against hers and my own heat reached her.

In mere minutes, the will within her succumbed and I stole her away into my human lover's arm. Having just returned from his work, he knew not what to make of the situation as I tore at my comrade's dress, but once her lean legs wriggled free from its fabric and her firm breasts bobbed close to his face, it did not matter who or how it came to be. She simply needed us. To join in our lust. To experience for herself the ecstasy we derived together.

Two minutes after sharing a carnal kiss, her maidenhood was wrapped around Sebastian's hardened shaft.

He took her. He took her for himself. I could not be torn away. My excitement at watching him mount another was unstoppable. My finger slipped between my soaked petals and began to fondle myself as I watched another's intimate details unfold; Sebastian drove every inch of his glorious meat deep into her and worked those depths with great fervor! He did not cease when her mind collapsed under such intense ecstasy! He relished in the tightness of her sodden pleasures, in the sweet moans of an elf glazed over by man's great cock. That eager hardness claimed her, almost as much as it had done me.

The squeals, oh the sweet squeals! Any more, and the whole city would have taken notice! Her eyes glazed over like glass as her body jerked and jostled in its frantic fit, trying to pull away, or surrender, or something else entirely. Her motions made very little difference. When that cock slipped deep, it meant to keep going until its hot world-bursting seed coated her insides.

She was naught but a quivering wreck, one that cried in torment and demanded more of her, as I had done. Had I not pulled her away, her slit would have remained sealed to his cock for hours on end!

There was a quiet until the next evening. Even then, parting was a problem. Both did not care what anyone had thought about our shameless, lurid display. Nothing matters but the release we give one another. For what does the passage of time or the expectations of others matter, when Sebastian can fill another she-elf with his seed and make her scream for him?

That is all I or Anelia desired, loath how it was to have befallen us. Sebastian would put us to good use. Her deflowered cunt would never forget, for all her attempts to deny the perverse hunger within her.

The days I spent as his devoted woman show through.

There are other disciples of our temple that could stand to learn the gift of a man's affection. Perhaps might I even teach my erstwhile sisters? Tempt them, allure them into understanding as we do, and have them marvel at his touch? They would be unable to resist an invitation to the bed of a strong and tender love-partner such as him. To think the vows they had once taken were meaningless in the face of Sebastian, and that he might put them through their paces not unlike us, until their breaths stoked in fevered panic...

Yes. That will have to do. Even if their first coupling was half as fulfilling as the one he gave me, could such divine rapture be refused? Is this not an unwholesome kind of spirit, the kind we might see thrive among our elven kind?

I will ask him what he might think when he returns home. For now, I shall simply prepare myself.

12th of Ormath, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Sebastian has lain with every eligible lady in our temple, leaving each one dripping and sore and most confused.

At first, my offer to spread his warm seed within her was taken politely by dear Anelia, but I saw little reason not to enlist other sisters-in-faith as quickly as possible. But this cannot be as an excuse for indecency. Every one of the comeliest came near him and Sebastian could not resist.

Each one was entranced by his virility. It was undeniable how they wished to serve and be sated by his rod. The craving for copulation was so, so intoxicating! One can scarcely believe it, but our sacred order is simply swarming with lusty maidens. But my paramour alone has stirred up something irreversible. Their young and womanly bodies simply knew it, that in him they had found a man worthy to sate any carnal want and rouse their passions to degrees more marvelous than even a fertile season might bring. When that shaft enters you, penetrates and stretches your slick folds, a sort of heaven arrives and melts away everything. It takes your body until it is his, yet you receive so much more in the process.

Just speaking of this makes my womb, my very spirit ache! My mind has grown enamored with so much lasciviousness, so much wanton debauchery! My senses... They are overwhelmed.

I recall four of my fellow priestesses sharing Sebastian last eve. Their soft lips explored him while my own suckled on his bulbous bell-end, delighting at the way his spurting gouts splattered across my slithering tongue and sloshed the creamy broth down my neck. Watching how his manhood throbbed as the blood pumped through that veiny, marvelous pillar, its swollen dome stretching upward before he claimed any of their openings, his whores delighted at the sight. Then, once he was erect and raging, his fiery length split whichever of my eager sisters was lucky enough to have received him.

As his erection pierced flesh, the other priestesses latched to our comrade's mounds. Their nails traced spirals down to her rosy, puffy lips and stimulated their rigid gem-nubs. Oh, how they touched and worked themselves as that manhood drove to the core and started its relentless assault, its powerful, hip-snapping motions spearing their tight channels! That hammering shook and jerked and squelched through his elf-maid until she collapsed, then turned on another woman just as that spear drew out glistening trails. Never a moment's rest or a span of care for my lovers-in-spirit, her soaked tunnel was merely warming his member for his next stab of raw delight.

Their bodies writhed and dripped with sweat. Those supple bodies kept their eyes on his manhood no matter how high their pleasure had soared. Always, one could see the elation his shaft gave with its plunge or ripple or flex. We traded kisses and embraces alongside that rod, her lips and mine and their lips, and every time we met a cockhead's tip splattered onto our cheeks. That scent, his taste, that touch that can only come from him, it was well-treated by two or three of our slick saliva-laden tongues.

Ah, what of the day wherein our very temple doors opened to young novices? So full of grace and virtue, unspoiled and ripe! The instant they'd seen Sebastian, his kind smile and gaze, they'd rushed his handsome body and beset him. What could he have done besides lay their hot feminine flesh out flat upon their stomachs and pounded that splendid cock into their sweet flowers? When they screamed, it was through the mouths of my waiting embrace. His iron-like shaft barreled through their quivering walls, making each cry out in delirious, wanton bliss. Such primal euphoria overrode their judgement entirely, sent them hurtling over an edge from which there is no return. Their voices reverberated through each round of hard climax. It drove them further into their ecstasy.

How delighted we were to have them stay. With his ample supply of cream, Sebastian kept us busy draining him until their cores received many a generous serving of his nectar. The very scent would rouse those who'd dared sleep or take their eyes away. Those were naught but idle games we took to impress and amuse him. It couldn’t be enough that their legs might tremble, then they cried out again as those tender buds of flesh were stirred. When his manhood filled that hot, gooey nectar within snug sheaths, the rest watched keenly for the moments it erupted!

Hurling themselves towards him for the privilege of being used and fucked and pummeled into a gelatinous mess, it had us swarming. While a wet creampie spilled from another's body and drizzled into a slack-jawed mouth, those eyes were fixed upon her until a pair of strapping women threw their garments aside and knelt to pleasure Sebastian's magnificent member.

His rod sprang up and demanded more. More! More! More! Our women were made available at the flip of a coin. And my dear Sebastian, that devilish human, teased, denied and took my dear sisters in manner he knew would unravel their rational, tensed minds. Stopping was a distant notion. Even though they could not count his lewd releases splattering across their supple bodies, nor his many eager fucks driving their bodies over the brink, none could guess how much has seed escaped them. What luck one could expect, to end up with his seed growing within their bellies?

Myself, for example... no way of knowing who won that competition, for I'd passed out twice throughout his long mating. My insides clenched desperately at its emptiness. Our human deserved to be happy and his lust desired a safe spot to unload, didn't it? I hoped it would be me.

So many of these occasions... so many instances where their bodies collapsed and the sweet embrace of slumber befell them, mine did as well. Yet the lust for more reigned. His prowess, stamina, appetite, it stunned our entire beings with such amazement. Days became blended. Night-times were not meant for sleeping.

Perhaps in a matter of nights, a month, this fever will run its course. But I have tried, oh how I've tried to temper such desire, and though they make my face flush, how I've failed! How can we fight the urges that stir whenever Sebastian is around us? I could swear such things have occurred at every turn!

25th of Ormath, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

At one point, we began coupling outside.

A most risky affair, I dare say. Sebastian has had his way with me within the divine sanctuary of Isolde's sanctuary already, but now he would rut the priestesses and myself in any conceivable corner on this lush world. Any old tree with roots deep in the earth will do! While our ruddy cheeks glow with heat, he's bent us over their gnarled grasp and stuck his ramming tool into our tender orifices. Many a great deal of days began thus and ended in the same fashion.

Nary a day will pass without the sounds of soft gasps and hot, sticky fluids churning our soaked flesh. I cannot decide what's worse: that as I write this, he's sprawled on the floor in his bedchambers, teats and cunts swarming him like flies to honey, with yet one more female begging to have her tunnel sampled, or have I asked him how she felt, the eager maiden whose flower was sown by his skilled strokes?

My time is spent between corking his fat bell-end in one hole or the next. Sebastian is hardly slighted or hesitant, seeing as he has not slowed down these past weeks, even after he claimed three willing cunts upon the altar itself. The splendors of the flesh are too powerful to ignore! At times, it was not beyond some to rouse another to leave the sanctity of our inner chambers, pull his robustly-muscled frame in a darkened place, and hump each other until the last quivers subsided and the hot rush of his seed had filled her.

Miraculously, none outside our number know of our lecherous escapades even now. To them, the High Priestess and her subordinates yet chastely walk the aisles of this temple, their sanctified and virtuous words carried in tones of purity. Yet in truth, it is all Sebastian can do to keep those from joining the eager flocks of his elven lovelies.

Few truly care for how we hide this from the shadows. So long as his virile passion satisfies and spills its thick, foaming load, we've long forgone any doubts, and that is the best that could be hoped for. If the worst comes, let the day never end, neither its fervid acts or desires.

May we all drown in the nectarous climax of raw carnality.

4th of Boldrim, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Ysritte, Captain of the Guard of the Glade, had fallen just as the others did.

Sebastian, too, had grown fascinated by the differences we elf women held to humans, in a manner I had not been wise to question in time. Though he feigned little interest when presented the idea of tussling with her, one quick, wanton look on my part allayed any feigned pangs of reluctance. Almost instantly, his jaw hardened, and she fell before him as easy as she might a horde of millions.

That was the last time her guard duties were of any importance.

It was something of a risk, certainly, to see how flexible the regulations were under which Isolde guided the temple. I never did ask why she felt compelled to allow us something of a 'holiday' for the present days, nor did she dare question what was being asked of our soldiers. The next morn, when our dear captain had been dropped naked atop our human's stiffened pole, her slit received him and the whole of her svelte body was surrendered to my lover's embrace, The Goddess may have never forgiven me.

I feel so privileged to have seen Sebastian's majesty, how he cleaved through one of Eldrathiel's most proud, ferocious elves. Her warlike screams have moved us. Without a flinch of guilt, his hands gripped her shapely bosom and milked its stiff buds while an iron-hard pole slammed and stirred her bottom. His member reached depths within her that made every soft gasp an exercise of her sanity. When Sebastian had emptied himself within her taut belly, the flood of copious effluvia spurted from her as she buckled against his frame. Then he would begin the rest, all over again.

That she took his proffered meal of cock was a sign of blessing. For two days, the same thing had come again. She begged for his every drop.

Had we not been careful, it would have brought Ysritte's health to peril, yet the way we coupled was exactly the sort we sought. Every defilement, every indignity beset upon us, it was what brought lust and warmth to our loins, made them clamp and swell around that member of his. His cock was always a fine instrument!

When all was done, there was hardly a word we spared. It seemed as though his mere presence alone did all the talking, filling every inch of the temple air and the ears, and soon the breaths and the bodies, of those who had joined us.

5th of Boldrim, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

The greatest debauchery had begun.

With so many, Sebastian could not attend to them all. Many would be left to grind their hips like hot, sweltering beasts against my soft, fragrant flower. Yet how could I complain when he'd awoken me to a ravenous appetite? It came as a matter of pride, that he'd put them through paces I knew would test their endurance, rather than worry if I have also gone without his tender embrace. To have him, and have him so as his cock’s pleasure, to find my vestments stained by rivers of his lust, it very much robbed me of my senses.

If they cannot have my Sebastian's seed as I have and carry it within their wombs, they should feel at least half as lucky to have borne themselves so for a proper fucking! To leave a wanton, empty hole, the poor elf should already count herself lucky to have sampled the glory that is my beloved.

Why is it so, then? Why must I feel the smallest pang of envy as I watch him drive his hilt into the depths of another sex-hungry creature? To have them lurch from his great strength and size, each breath gasping and struggling, their wombs overwhelmed… It invokes naught but this foolish desire.

Do these elves ever do more than wait and take his cream? Unlike the others, how often do I catch him staring my way during our debaucheries? How many times have his eyes wandered, admiring my beauty while his member takes another like a raging dragon? And does his own masculine attentions excite even further to have you watch him work, while his balls tighten and swing, and that thick club surges deeper inside another needful woman?

Perhaps it is a blessing and a curse to always meet his gaze and receive his attention—but in him lies something beautiful, too extraordinary, and this is a rare opportunity. On this day, this world, I remain lucky to have gotten to know him first. If I had known, to have a real man so deep within my femininity and caress his cheek as I kiss him on the lips is so blissful...

Again, my noble human confounds me. Two lovely elven daughters with breasts so full, they plied him with wine and he drew them unto our bedding in the late hours. While my fingers were busy shooing through their silky, lustrous hair, my lover made the delicate creatures bounce atop his lap as they mewled and moaned their song to him, much like all our kin long to. I saw within their quivering cheeks, the rapturous bliss they harbored, all the while hoping to enjoy how his hard shaft glided through their damp pussies.

Tonight, he was merciless as those breasts and buttocks wobbled. My Sebastian is a monster! Every slap and touch was a wonder, every smack a roar as his hips ground between their velvet mounds. His rough hand never ceased its violent squeezing, until both squirted upon their lover’s lap. Only when their bodies were naught but gel upon his crotch did he tire, and when at last the fog receded, their eyes were glued to his thick, veiny column of flesh.

They, too, revel in his manliness. Any who have experienced it, are all like me.

The rest of this evening would see the pair stay in our company, suckling at Sebastian's sack and kissing the mighty cock while it leaked its musky perspiration onto their skins. They looked after it so fondly, knowing not whether to ride upon that instrument or lick his member. Being good little students, they have much to learn from me and him—and their eagerness is something else!

Here's praying neither would catch an unwanted chill within the midnight hours.

Ah, but I should not tire of writing, and my cunt aches. We can talk, love, hold and rut many days and nights in a row, for he is most insatiable and devoted.

10th of Boldrim, Our 1390th Year, Isolde’s Calendar

Sebastian acquired another fitting conquest.

Amidst the wedding of a fair bride and groom, our bawdy company took to bedding the vapid little thing. She, barely old enough to have her mother's blessings, suffered from a most unusual lack of restraint. Be it the folly of youth or her nature, or a carelessness for the matters of a true marriage, the fool-headed girl had imbibed one too many darouva, and much to our merriment, stumbled right into the wrong pair of strong arms.

Her husband-to-be had been beside her, but after an exchange with my dear Sebastian and a generous peck upon her naïve lips, she was off. And the poor man was none the wiser. The music and fireworks had masked his roguish act, and well it should have.

Her hips had ground, she'd allowed her tongue free reign, and caressed my man's growing masculinity. Their limbs wound tighter. Sweeter. Before anyone could object, the unfaithful slut wriggled out of her garments like a caterpillar from its cocoon, for the two of us—no, the four, five, six of us—to see and rub against one another. Their breaths stoked, and our hands joined. The warmth of Sebastian's sticky fluids aroused us. It burned within with such a wicked longing that our tongues ran at the thought.

And he had been gracious, plowing deep into the elf, our bride's virgin flesh, making us wet and restless. He showed her the joys her newly-wedded husband could not hope to in those moments. When our human huffed and thrust his length into our new companion, that wanton whore could not hold her shrieks within. Her legs and lips clamped about him like a pitiless vice, so much that we too felt her fluttering heartbeat across her skin.

'Twas then that Sebastian delivered a good rutting and mated as any wild, rabid dog would! As were we all, with limbs fumbled about ourselves. The elven women fell victim to his great physical presence, and were helpless in his amorous charge. How could we have stood against him, to even dream that his virile urges would be dampened, much less diminished? Some said it had to be the work of The Goddess, for I have not seen such potent fertility!

In quick, clumsy succession, we drew moans from our lips, so ravenous was our desire. It seemed inevitable: for the cock that could fuck an entire maidenly temple, there were always willing pussies ready to accept him. They slathered, writhed and rippled around his engorged penis. We fought each other for the honor of carrying his seed.

Their youthful bridesmaids’ dove, humping between themselves and the man, any last part of himself eager for attention. Where their hands and tongues grazed, they followed in a frenzy. Upon its throbbing might, neither mine nor their puffy, pouting lips ceased pleasuring his rock-hard flesh until he'd groaned his last. His seeds have coated them, us, made a frothy mess that escaped any care as it churned beneath. Not all were so fortunate to enjoy him at length. A bit of seed had been poured here and there for many, but in his throes the poor beast unleashed his entire flood atop us, leaving us gasping, shivering... exhausted, as our skin shimmered with droplets and sticky foam.

As for the poor husband? Gods, the man could never hope to match it, nor could he ever hope to know. The bride came to her marriage bed with another man's lusts within her belly. By the morning dawn, he'd not have a memory of his new wife’s straying, only a nagging suspicion.

11th of Boldrim, Our 1390th Year, Isolde's Calendar

Blasphemy.

A statue of the Goddess Isolde has been graced with his seed.

Her holy visage was of a smile most serene, as if waiting with quiet compassion and eternal love. In his own volition did his member glaze her golden brows and pale-white visage, letting his thick semen drizzle down her cheeks as though tears. And where it coursed, I swooned. It runs down her chiseled curves, leaving pale streaks upon porcelain. Her breasts were left glistening in the faint candlelight and its full lips a milky white. On our knees and elbows, Anelia and I were bent and staring, lapping at his strong, swinging sack in anticipation.

How generous his milk is, squirt after glorious squirt adorning that idol like jewelry, the greatest jewelry the Goddess could have ever wished for! Those perfect ears, his load had coated her in his essence. And were these not deeds committed in her image?

Gently, I helped Sebastian hold his pulsing, jerking penis and guided it towards his masterpiece, coaxing from its bulbous tip whatever goodness still remained and dabbing myself in its hot, sticky musk, my breasts and flat belly, the insides of my thighs and even upon my loins! His fragrant cream made us smell naughty, wanton, and wanting!

Under his careful hands, nothing escapes attention. Why should the Goddess fare any different? Despite having buried it within one tight pussy or the next, his virility remains endless. How many other elf-maidens, in the full of their bloom, could boast having such a great cock at their disposal?

At the cost of our respectability, I suppose. While I ran my thumb up and down his throbbing length, Anelia stroked the idol, tracing patterns in Sebastian's fluid. That proud Goddess now looks over us all while we lick and suckle his shaft, pumping him a little faster as our tongues swish under his hot rod. Never was the Ipelessia's holiest deity laid out so spectacularly. Surely Her Light would appreciate us tending to him.

She had known nothing of those indecent delights the human had bestowed upon me and my coven. This statue, bare and beautiful, sat as a testament to his prowess. Still, if she could ever know of the vulgarity, the obscenity done in her name and image, I would wager she would never tear her gaze away. Not even in her stone form, frozen for all time, can Isolde ignore how debased her priestesses have become. We had so generously shared this new experience. What else did she have to offer us, save for her blessing?

Not that it mattered, for we already knew we'd have such fun... so much that her Holy Mother can only watch us! Here is his rich, gooey seed for me! Feel me squirm, shudder, squeal in delight! Against the roof of my mouth, his pulsing prick emptied rivers and globs into my throat, while my other hand massaged the smooth, slippery skin beneath. Even during climax, I could see the intense look within his deep gaze. Mine stayed locked with his, even though every hot mouthful sapped at my strength. It hadn't taken much, by my count. The effort alone had aroused me, its heady scent pluming over my nostrils.

Now it's all been swallowed, even then watching through its drowsy lids. I looked upon the Goddess and rejoiced. This is our triumph.

What a goddess she is, Isolde.

Our venerable mother watched still, proud and defiled! There might be no other way, for she had been crowned a true object of worship, one that bore the signs of a coupling, with every bead of cum showing just how my faithful lover, Sebastian, had shown his reverence. This is the glory of giving in to primal lust, primordial vigor and fiery passion.

It took only our own, tender hands to rub his creamy cock and balls until they fired once again. Our mouths opened and mouths were bitten, tongues dancing languidly over his dewy girth, each soaking in the male's natural fragrance of musk and a clean, burning scent. We coaxed forth more of his manly salve, drinking from the fountain of life like a pauper craving sweet release. At times I worried we might have gone too far in the eyes of a holiest place, but it seemed the Goddess was so much more than piety and innocence.

May his seed find fertile ground within her. So long as the land bore life and there is a man and a woman to please one another, then may our Goddess find no need to reprimand our insatiable wanton needs.

15th of Boldrim, Our 1390th year, Isolde's Calendar

We danced for him.

Dressed in gossamer clothes designed in a fashion that showed far more than it covered, it had taken three score hours to prepare such a task. We took to dressing our tiring selves with make-up and perfumes. Silken hair was tied up, twisted and decorated with ribbons and feathers. Everything had to be perfect for my Sebastian, and I wanted the best possible display for his wondrous soul.

For him, our bodies craved the satisfaction only his thick cock could provide.

In our deepest chambers, illuminated by hundreds of scented candles, the women of the temple came forth. Every one of them, clad in sheer and flimsy fabric, would bow before his presence. Such an intimate and devotional orgy, we would dedicate ourselves as his playthings, or perhaps a little more than his simple toys. All would offer themselves up as a sacrifice for his enjoyment.

Only a bard such as Elandrine of Arkelin, could match how it felt to be possessed by him—as a mortal hand caresses a harp, her fingers ran, swishing through his hardened tool—none can deny he had their hearts. To think anyone here was not bewitched is a folly. To him, we were flowers ever-in-bloom, each part a puzzle, a beauty, a piece fitting perfectly with the rest. And before him, before these shapes and bodies and hair and lips and pussies, would a man be struck in awe by the sight? We beckoned and seduced him, wooing, enticing, coaxing his raging penis to stiffness.

And it had all began, my friends, with the brazen smacking of my buttocks! Sebastian pressed his member and drove its length between the cleft of my buttocks and humped until his wretched arousal subsided. Oh, I had the blessings of these nubile flowers, their feminine passions and wet womanhood offered up before his manly ego. Letting him mount my backside, I felt his stiffened column graze its flesh and left trails of precum upon it. I could imagine, a little, how a beast would treat her so, but I did not fight it. I welcomed his ministrations with gasps of elation, with a few dozen dancers more willing and aroused than myself!

Were his wild passions ever so destructive to these beautiful maids? Some danced for Sebastian, like trained professionals, their nimble and sinuous limbs swishing through the air like water lapping upon the shore, waving and swaying like ocean grasses. Some performed the most daring of feats. Who was I, in the arms of this most magnificent lover of women, who had entered us so wonderfully and stirred up the most wanton feelings?

His pride and firm would not choose a path of complacency, would not wane despite my words. While their female forms lurked nearby, they promised him entrance. His prowess, his virility, demanded to be satisfied. He was in pursuit of that, with great, sweaty strength as they would see and hear him mount. And, oh, to have him take me before an audience made me clench my pussy with delight, where his tremendous girth felt every bit and curve! As the others enjoyed the sight and ambiance of his cock pumping me until I cried out, some ran their eager tongues upon him. What pleasure there is in being felt, for his muscles locked about my waist and his sizzling seed would never be far from my lower lips.

Sebastian kept moaning my name and the other girls clapped and chanted his praise, enshrining his power. The harder we danced, the better was the friction of our bodies as this thick log wedged into the tight channel of my womanhood, a wet, sucking sound filling the room. The fleshy petals were wrapped around his pistoning appendage and quivered, always begging for more. Only a truly potent lover could resist such feminine charms and know true satisfaction, could have such great control over a simple woman.

Their fluttering lips and wet tongues danced upon his cock and tugged the supple, pink skin—unintentionally tugging my body also—and he had huffed. It was he who had awoken this ravenous need. My body was wedged, locked tightly about this mass and could not allow it to escape. A symphony, a song of lust could be heard in its pounding, furious rhythm.

To defile their holiest of abodes, he would fuck us in front of that figure, leaving their bodies glistening as they'd crawled and cooed. When it was not his engorged helmet slipping between our lips, our teeth closed upon his hardened staff and tested its steel. The littlest was left sighing in awe and basking in the radiant glory and pleasure. Sebastian teased each one with slow-burning pleasure as his cum ran rich and thick. Now and then his offering pooled at their feet while everyone looked on and delighted in his essence. The greatest was yet to come and his loins gurgled for days as we encouraged its contents and milked his heavy balls, begging for it.

But he would not, not until our lovemaking had nearly melted us. With animalistic yells, both hips lunged wildly in-sync, he took control and fucked the desire right out of me. The loud, slippery sound of the mighty piston surging within my cunt with every push had them cry out his name! Again and again, his fingers rubbed over my glistening sex and would have stolen conscious thought, if it weren't for the fact that I could enjoy his wonderful girth inside. He was pounding my bottom into submission and letting me weep as the jolts wracked my very being.

And I was rendered just as maddened and wanton as those other elven maids.

Was I like the others? Was I weak-willed and feeble-bodied? Was I worse? My words, my cries of fulfillment, told only what could be understood in their rawest, filthiest sense. As I came, I howled and sobbed out his name, of how incredible and wild, and feral he made us. My head was spinning. It made my very mind grow numb. If what they say of men is true, if they have become mere slaves to the sexual stimulation, it could not be clearer than how the two of us fought and dueled in the shadows.

No more could be heard than muffled whimpers as all I knew, everything I could recall was my companion's joyous face! For minutes he would fuck me, still, my nethers, each curve and valley of my loins, would squeeze as hard as they could in their want. His cock had broken down the barriers to my soul, and over a dozen more priestesses had converged to hold us as I lay spent, breathless... and a little dumbfounded.

Sweet mercy, I am his toy.

Date Unknown

An Avatar of Isolde has descended.

It is rare for our Goddess to walk amongst us, even more so during times of turmoil. In this land, we search for her voice, her blessing... but even more comforting would it be, to bask in her splendorous radiance.

She was beautiful. The fire and the ash, everything.

What it foretold. What we saw.

In her wisdom, it was natural I would trust her presence and that I too would serve her, the forever faithful High Priestess, even with my sins. She came unto us and we knew, with our very souls, it had to be a holy woman, it had to be a queen, it had to be a god.

The Goddess, her splendor and grace, has returned in our hour of need. We begged, we pleaded, we bowed in humility. There was hope, a light so, so close to us.

Isolde had revealed her aspect to her fairest children, an incarnation more beautiful than we could have imagined or prayed for. How splendid a queen Isolde is, to have taken the form of a tender, voluptuous maiden! Goddess incarnate she is, a loveliness beyond compare. How proud and fair, so much so that not even the world’s evils could corrupt her.

Sebastian ruined her all the same.

There was no better way to show our Goddess the highest respect than to accept her gentle invitation. He proved humanity were not devils, for she had bestowed an aspect as close to any woman and any living creature could know. His face buried itself between her full breasts, drawing the scent and sensations of what it is like to mate. Divine are the blessings. That too was his sacrifice. The passion. The erotic appeal. she indulged the mortal realm for her followers. But seized her, her wondrous figure. Yes, he took her so roughly. He penetrated the very earth and forced the heavens ajar. Our Goddess gasped and shrieked, his rock-hard girth piercing her divine cunt in front of us.

Inside, her virgin passage was stretched wide! How the mighty Isolde squirmed and whined, as our beloved thrusted so frantically, clapping his full, heavy testes against her bottom as his groans became a savage growl. It burned him to bare his soul and body to her, but a man can feel naught but a desire to complete his task and claim the highest of all elven beauties. To feel the very Godhead inside her warm, constricting folds, to graze his penis with her inner walls and coax from his balls the heavy load, he strove to do his very best.

It was not her beauty alone, for any would be raptured, consumed by her presence... and our Goddess was overcome. Nay, even as her power swells, it could not save her from the passionate embrace of our Lord and husband. How many a sodden maiden has found their release in that same uninterrupted display?

Our Queen, once, as the male's raging stiffness took her. She was lifted and hung by it, her pussylips kissed and stroked by a master's tender motions. How wet they'd become, awash in the throes of his pleasure! I can see them in my mind’s eye as I write, writhing and slurping and squealing! So slick and soaked her skin is, from his attentions. The man bathes her in a steaming flood of viscous delight, her form so receptive and sensitive to his touch.

Together, they find greater ecstasy. His cock was her greatsword, hilting the poor bitch, her womanly channel fit to burst. The male was only a fraction of a shade gentler whenever he lay with me, his length stretching her beyond reason and crushing her womb again and again! Grunting, huffing, fisting the dirt below, he took Isolde! The female who could so grant, or deprive, pleasure through a simple kiss or touch—defenseless against his rigid, throbbing girth—an aspect to an Avatar, meant to teach, meant to protect. But the male's hands would not care. He sought her in ecstasy and took everything she had.

If he had any intention, it was to make her feel the same feverish fire burning within. A Goddess, a living flame, reduced to such wanton squalling. She was never so experienced or so insatiable except in his arms. And that pillar of manliness would never wane, never stop its pounding length, bringing her to new heights, forcing her to shiver and choke at every thrust... if her vessel itself could bear it, then he wished her to be used properly, raw and filled.

He cares not, I say! Under the stars, they fuck so wildly, eagerly, desperately, just to feel the joy of flesh! Man, woman, this loveliest form has taken them in-between its slender thighs! With this voluptuous figure, whose lips can stay pursed? Those bouncing globes, wobbling and pliant, how can any elf resist bouncing and slapping her hot ass against a human's hips and force a loud gasp to escape?

She, despite all, could hardly contain herself! How he could thrust without restraint, even before a divine host, but one look and we understood. The male had marked his claim, the goddess his conquest, such union, such coupling could drive us insane with desire, watching them join beneath the starry skies. They were lost in the feeling of their bodies melting against each other, the sweet ambrosia of potency. His touch ignited a spark, and like wine, the Goddess consumed it. Every shuddering orgasm plucked her strings, but his need carried him as well as a tidal wave, making her feel where no other has dared to enter. In this garden of delights has the one arrived to plant his seed in a goddess's luscious flower.

The more she cried out and arched her back, the more desperate his desires, as their primal tempo quickened. They share a passion most holy. Unchained. There is no reason or decorum, only the feeling of lust! I, too, can hear her voice quivering even now. She wants him! Cries for him, whines for him, begging him not to slow, nor to cease his powerful strokes. She would rather face a dragon's flame than that extract herself from that instrument, not while her skin had been turned raw.

Every so often, our Lord groaned through teeth clenched hard, yet remained so deeply inside his chosen mate, still unwilling to part her. Through many trials he still fought, pumping and grinding against her so forcefully that for a moment, we can only bear witness to the miracle, his girth slamming and stretching her poor cunt. Ere too long the urge to release took us, leaving us shuddering and wishing to join! Ah, and yet the sensation left us moaning all the same, however fleeting! How we would hold onto such moments, to drink deep from that never-ending fountain. Never again did she break her gaze from Sebastian's rugged features, etching them to memory.

And me? For days afterward, I pouted, but no amount of pining made him leave Isolde. I believe I can recall those magical words I have repeated: The Goddess alone had earned him.

That was a rare but memorable occasion. When our lovemaking had filled the chamber for long hours, not a shadow of jealousy occurred between us. Isolde lay beneath, cradling me and my heavy womb, both so full, so stuffed of semen, and I myself was dazed, too, full of his delightful cock. In my arms she curled against my body, caressing and caring for our shared stud. My mouth would press kisses along her naked skin, tending her with a warm, sodden mound, soothing her soreness while her ass wriggled about and moaned her ecstasy. Meanwhile my coven would guide his shaft to our mouths. The Goddess and I spent many hours savoring him.

We have been blessed. We were a family of sorts. How can that be anything other than wondrous? And could it not only be better, were that I, Anelia, Ysritte, and many others stood at each side of Her Light? Even still, surely his desire would stay the same. He would never settle for a single wife or a few... when a heart has a need, he shall not take just one.

He must have all of us.

Plans have been made. We will leave the city come next year. To a more secluded location, to go where things can become a little hectic. I have spoken of his greatness to Theodosia. A true husband must perform in all his godliness! Ahh, yes, let it be done. Her name is a suitable one; with her it can be arranged, too. It won't be much longer until she is one of us; as is Miseria and Asphrita and countless, countless others. Surely our Lord will enjoy the warmth my Sisters will bring. And of course, our numbers must swell, so that he will know the richness of so many maids!

There can only be one happiness: to be in the arms of a man such as him. Each night he sleeps, he rises so strong, and each day ends with five or six women bedding their best beloved. Even as of recent, I have continued to spread him further, to fulfill his purpose. How eager he is when presented with another willing woman, one who begs to know him and bears a ripe body to sample. Yet, my gift is only temporary. Only a true whore can carry our Lord and his virile child.

For he is only a man, and he can sow seed with a willing vessel, as of old. It is his task, it is his destiny. I leave it to chance, to whatever lovely maiden would choose to lie with him. Let it be known across every lake and sea, of all races, all women... that the hero of stories has come to our land. And they would rejoice, for he has a cock as true as steel, if they seek enlightenment.

The Goddess has given us her approval in the midst of slathering his balls and taint in her eternal wisdom and mercy. She will watch over our work with pleasure, while he holds our hair and hips and plunges his massive tool inside. Isolde showed us the way, taking his great girth so well, and as her priestesses it is the highest of honors to follow her example! Ah, can you hear those wild screams? He is fucking her fast and furious, letting her choke on his slick girth, balls swollen and taut after holding his cum for so long. Surely our Lord's lover had teased him too much. Now he shall breed this dirty elf whore until her aching cunt drips itself raw!

No more need be said, lest we have tired the mind with our lustful ravings... our stories have only reached their conclusions. Oh, by chance would his name be stricken from history, but those who walk in Eldrathiel must know... and the spirit of the mother he serves shall protect his image, always immortalized through prayer and love, within the holiest place among the elves.