Futanari Legends: The Frozen Queen (Book 2: Astrid) (9 page)

Everything I have fought for has ended.

Chloe is gone.

Chapter 9:

Obey

And so it starts.

She is a darklord, born of death and dark magics, and I am a mage, born of bending the fabric of reality.

We are both weakened in our current state, she having been thrown from a dragon after it broke through a magical barrier of the gods, and myself having been in the vicinity of that explosion and nearly fell off the mountain of which we both stand.

The fact that she walks strong and certain and survived the explosion at the point of impact tells me she is much stronger than I. However, strength does not mean everything when it comes to magical battles. Victory in any battle depends on the desired outcome. It is not a matter of settling for less, just setting in your mind what you think victory should be given your situation and foe.

“Do not think you are going to weave your way free from this one,” the darklord says, her green eyes narrowing to glowing slits. “I know of your ways, mage.”

She holds my face in her hand. I am weak from the fall and the sudden magical eruption, and the tear down the mountain hangs in the air, popping and crackling as the magic tries to keep the barrier up, but the hole punched through is too large and torn for itself to repair. Blue flashes of light illuminate us like lightning, and you can taste the unfocused magic seething through the frozen air.

“Open it!” She says, shouting above the hissing pops of magical energy arcs. She shoves me down the slope, and I stumble, righting myself on a rock. I stare at the magical rip, it is far too dangerous for either of us to get near, and I think the darklord wishes me to sacrifice myself so she may chase her pet dragon.

How anyone can keep one of those as a pet I do not know.

I glance back, spots still in my eyes, and she keeps a finger pointed at me, dark magics wrapping around her blood-red fingernail. I know of the death magic spell called a shadow-bolt, and this is what I suspect she has primed and ready to fire should I try to flee or disobey. I can feel the seething chill of the darkbolt primed and ready state aiming between my shoulder blades. While I don’t like being in this position, at least I know when the spell is pointed at me and when it is not.

She still has to aim.

“Who are you?” I say, wiping the snow and ice from my face.

“Does it matter?” She says, hissing back at me. “Open the tear. I do not care if you die doing so.”

“Well, I do. I am Astrid of Magetower,” I say, “and I am raising my hand to weave the tear in the barrier, shall you allow me to do that?”

Best to be a little careful when someone has a spell pointed at you that could tear you in two. I am also lying a little in thinking I can repair this tear, this barrier was made by the gods, and I doubt my ability to even touch such a power. To me, it would be like trying to divert a raging river with a small piece of paper.

Though one I think about it, that could be done.

“Go ahead, weave and stay the magics,” she says, “and no sudden spells. I shall not hesitate to-”

“You need me,” I say, and I curse my proud tongue. Still, this is the truth, and without my magic, she has no hope of chasing her pet through the barrier. If she could have used her dark magic to get through, she would have, and she would have never seen me.

“I
need
you?” She twists my blond hair in her hand and yanks my head back. The way she says ‘need’ drips with venom and hatred. “I
need
nothing. Not you. Not the dragon. Not my master Archlich Skeldor. Only the girl. Nothing else.” She shoves me back against the rock as the lightning around the tear rages some forty paces in front of us. “Now open the rift. I shall not ask again.”

I raise my hand again, and play with the ripples of wild magic, just for show. Still, it feels like my hand is being stung by a thousand bees as the magic pricks and tingles with lightning and pain. I wince at the pain, and I put on a show for her, letting blue mana flow around my hand like water, trying to smooth out the magic right in front of me. I am sure if I were to reach out directly to the barrier, I would incinerate myself with mana in an instant.

I doubt my ability to repair this rift, or even do what she says. Still, to divert rapids with a small piece of paper is such an interesting problem I cannot remove it from my head.

Distractions, I need to stop doing this to myself. Even when I am about to die my mind keeps wandering.

“You seemed to have needed that dragon when you were on him,” I say, pushing my luck, and hoping for more answers from her. As a Fourth Circle member, I have a responsibility to the Council to uncover all manner of magical plots and manipulations, and report this back to the High Mage. After that, I am sure it is all politics with the Empire, Northern Clans, and others. I do have a duty to find out what is going on here, but not at the cost of my own life.

She shoves the darkbolt-primed fingertip between my shoulders and I feel the dread chill of death shoot through me as the magic touches my living soul. I cry in pain and heave in breath, and she mercifully removes the finger from my back.

“Did I say you could ask questions of me?”

“I ask because there are better ways,” I say. Do I know the specifics? No. But I know there are better ways than this. “If you wish to chase a dragon, killing me trying to get through something the gods built will do you no good, and get you nowhere. I shall be dead, and you shall be here, alone, staring at an empty hole you cannot get near.”

She growls behind me.

She is either going to kill me in anger or-

“Do you know of another way?” She says, her lips suddenly close to my ear.

“Yes,” I say, lying, the snow blowing across my face and cold flakes melting on my lips. Well, it’s not a total lie, I could probably find a way, but do I know right now?

No.

“If this is a trick I shall make you regret wasting my time.” She dissipates her primed darkbolt and turns me around, her ivory face inches from mine. I feel a slight warmth coming from her breath. “Now, lead the way.”

I free myself from her and walk towards the ridge, recovering my magic staff from the snow. She follows a couple footsteps behind, walking with the swagger of the dead. Although, I sense she is not completely dead, her skin is as white as the decayed flesh of a lich, but her body is not wasted and spent, with flesh hanging to bone. Something keeps the spark of life in her, keeping her halfway alive, and halfway in the realm of the dead. I take her down the opposite side of the ridge, and thankfully the mass of stone and ice shields us from the magic storm on the other side.

I can finally clear my head.

I find my white horse sheltered between two rocks, and pull myself up. I offer her a hand up. “Come.”

She glares at me, her red hair whipping in the ice wind. “I need no help-”

I take my hand back and wait.

She reaches up, grabs at me, kicks my horse, and struggles to mount behind me. I roll my eyes out of her sight, reach back, and place my ice-cold hand under her dress, right on her bone-white ass cheek, and pull her up behind me.

“You bitch,” she says, spitting into my ear and grabbing my shoulders with her sharp fingernails, “your fucking hand is freezing.”

“You should be wearing warmer clothes,” I say, spurring my horse on and riding us down the trail. “My blankets and spare cloak is in the pack behind you, make yourself comfortable.”

“The dead need no warmth,” she says, but she retrieves a cloak from my pack anyways and wraps herself with it. She keeps her body pressed to mine, and I feel a definite warmth coming from her body as her large breasts press into my shoulders. She wraps us both with the black fur cloak to share the warmth between us.

“But you do,” I say, guiding us down the trail. We are riding down the face of a mountain, a thousand foot drop beneath us on one side, and a wall of ice and rock on the other. We are so high, above the clouds. Chill winds whip at us both.

“I’m not what you think,” she says, gripping me tighter.

“A darklord? But not quite dead?”

“Cursed,” she says, using her fingernails on my arms to drive the point home, “and you will find it to your advantage not to pry into my affairs, mage. Remember who holds the power here. Obey me and I may let you live. Take me through the barrier in this way that you know of.”

That, I am still working on. The warmth between us puts me in a hazy glow, it feels good to ride with someone again, even if that someone is threatening to kill you. I keep the cloak wrapped around us both, tying off two ties around my waist, and pull her closer to me.

I feel my cock tingle and press into my panties in the warm spot under my robes. My cock likes her despite my mind’s revulsion for her. I should think that typical of a man’s genitals, in fact. Despite how evil she appears, she does have a wicked beauty to her that I feel men would find attractive. Even though she would likely kill such said men in a heartbeat, they would still stare and get erect just at the thought of shoving their cocks into such a wickedly exquisite beauty.

And now the lace in my blue panties hurts as my cock rages into a full hard-on. Oh, that hurts. My cock presses so hard against the lace, and I feel my panties bite and pinch against my massive she-cock. It strains to get free at the goading of my lurid thoughts, of her wickedness, and at her curves. I haven’t been this hard in a long time, and my cock-head is nestled deep between my legs as it tries to snake its way out of my undergarments.

I am so embarrassed. The woman behind me is trying to kill me, and I am ashamed I have to figure out a way to free my cock from my underwear without her knowing. It hurts, and my cock presses hard into my slit, the pounding of my meat directly against my vulva and vaginal folds, and making my lady-parts wet. My pussy is lubricating my shaft, the wetness seeping across my turgid rod as we ride, and the darklord behind me nuzzles for warmth as her hips rub against my ass.

Another bump in the road, and my cock slides directly under me, the length of it pressing against my panties, the bottom of it slickly wet from my seething cunt, and the end of my cock painfully and firmly lodged directly against my asshole. It wants to pop free so bad, and I feel my mind haze in lust. The end of my rod pounds and rubs my tender asshole, wet from my cunt’s juices, and aching for release from its painful lace prison.

“Where is this path?” she says, and her darkly evil and sultry voice, along with the warm breath upon my ear, sends my cock into rapture. I feel like I am going to come in my own ass thinking about it. I am fantasizing about shoving my long, hard cock into her evil mouth and face-fucking her into submission. I feel my eyes nearly roll back into my head as I think about it, the spit dripping from her lips, her wrists tied behind her back, her red stringy hair soaked with my pre-cum, and my cock firmly lodged into her evil gullet, sperm filling her mouth, her gargling on my cum, and bubbles flowing out and down her cheeks.

I may finish her off by coming in her eyes and letting her squirm in front of me as she laps up my seed like a hungry kitten.

“Let me sense the way,” I say, daring to reach under myself and free my cock from its prison. I wait for a gust of wind to drive her face back under the cloak and into my blond hair before I do my work. I slide my hand up the cut in my robes, under my petticoat, and up the inside of my bare leg. I find it, my fingers probing my panties, my skirt hiked up some on my leg.

I hope she doesn’t notice. My hand is ice-cold, and my cock is so hot I feel the burn on my icy fingers first.

“Touching yourself?” she says with her wicked voice, lips near my ear, and her voice smooth and soft, “I should be honored.”

“It pinches,” I say, blushing and lying out of my teeth, “you know how riding is. Forgive me, and give me this comfort, please.”

“You lie,” she says, pressing against me, “I smell your sweet musk under this cloak. Your heart beats fast. Your womanhood flowers and your dew moistens your tender passage. You are attracted to me, this body, this thing of wickedness.”

My panties bite into my cock. It hurts so bad.

“I am impressed,” she says.

My cock isn’t free, it is still painfully trapped under me, and the thoughts of being able to fuck this darklord in her bone-white cunt as a woman are sending me into rapture. Would she be wet? Would she squirt when she came? My cock cannot take a minute more of her teasing or my fantasies. Where is my self-control? Where is my decency? Would she still kill me after she was done with me? You walk a dangerous path, Astrid of Magetower, do not let your cock get the better of you.

She grips my bare legs with her white hands under the cloak, and presses hard against my back. “You are such a beautiful creature, mage.”

My cock rages at her touch. I feel it slide deeper under my asshole, between the cheeks of my ass. Please, stop this.

“I thought you didn’t like me.” I can’t resist a smirk and a look back at her, a little tease myself. “You have no use for me, after all.”

“For parts, and places of this sweet body of yours, I do.” Her lips are on my neck, kissing my skin, and I am a bit surprised. “You smell so good, mage. Your tender pussy must be so wet and hot.”

And my cock too, if she knew I had one. She would probably strike me dead as some sort of abomination to life. She probably expects a woman under these robes, so I better back off.

She slides her hands down my legs, grabbing the slits in my robes, and hikes them and my petticoat off my ass under the cloak around us. My bare, pantie-covered ass is now against her hips. Well, actually, I feel the leather of her dress to the side, and her leather panties are pressing into my ass.

And my eyes jerk wide open when I feel her massive cock ride between the cheeks of my ass.

She is no ordinary darklord. She is a Sister of Gundir, like myself.

“Do you feel my huge cock, mage?” She coos, squirming behind me and dry fucking the crack of my ass under our cloak. “Does it scare you? Does it make you wonder how I could have the body of a woman, yet the raging cock of a man? Do you want it in your burning pussy? Do you want to suck it in your sweet mage mouth?”