Lake Star Darkwater Ch. 01

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Their adventure began on a snowy night.

The unusually powerful snowstorm raged for two days. Disturbingly keening winds had howled and whistled around the small collection of huts in the hamlet settled just outside the tree line of the deep Hockwood Forest. The village was called Norlander, the most northern settlement in the world. The blizzard dumped several score stone-weight of snow and the powder formed high drifts which had all but buried the little town. But by sundown of the second night the tremendous blizzard had practically blown itself out with only light flurries swirling new flakes down on the high piled smothering white drifts.

It was near midnight when the last of the dying gusts blew light powder in through the inn’s door as the hooded traveler entered. He closed the door quickly behind him, shutting out the wind, the snow, the cold and the night. He stood with his back to the door and let his dark eyes adjust to the mellow light of the room, given off by the dying flames in the fireplace and the single lit candle on top of a long table. Snow dusted his hood and on his broad shoulders formed small piles, which steamed as they melted in the tavern’s warmth. He stomped his boots hard, dislodging the accumulated snow on them and threw back his hood before drawing off his thick fur cloak.

With dark brown eyes the traveler ran his gaze around the shadowed tavern room of the inn. The ceiling was of age-darkened wood planks and exposed beams stretched perhaps eight feet above the sawdust sprinkled stone floor. The walls were also of wood, split-logged and mud-dabbled. Old and dusty tapestries draped the log walls, the better to preserve the room’s heat against the winter cold.

The long dining table, about half the length of the tavern’s great room itself, was set in its center. The aforementioned burning candle had been placed into a thick pedestal of wax. The traveler guessed that the mound of paraffin was the remains of other many other candles which had resided on the table. He could see other mounds with other unlit candles arranged along the centerline of the rough table top.

Even with his nose numbed from the cold the traveler could still smell the somewhat sour scent of humanity, old sweat and other stale body odors rising from the straw and down-filled cushions of the tavern’s furnishings.

The fireplace was a large fieldstone affair with a sooty black maw large enough for a tall man to stand upright in and wide enough to accommodate five men shoulder to shoulder. A log, mostly eaten away by low-dancing flames, set in iron dogs above a bed of dying embers. The fireplace’s hearthstone was of one huge single piece. It was there that the man saw the woman for the first time.

She was on the floor before the hearth, dressed in an unbleached white linen blouse, the hems of her gray flannel apron and long green wool skirt tucked under her long legs. Her feet were bare and she held a smoking pipe in one hand. She looked at him with her clear blue eyes, giving the late visitor a frank stare, plainly surprised at his appearance.

“Greetings, Master,” she said, rising gracefully, her skirt swirling around her naked ankles. “Welcome to Soren’s Inn. I didn’t expect anyone would come in from the road, from the storm at this hour.”

“I’d hoped to be here before sundown,” the traveler said in a deep, modulated voice. “The snow slowed me.”

The serving woman nodded and put the pipe between her white and even teeth. “I’m guessing you’ll be wanting a room.”

“I’ll be wanting a hot drink,” he corrected her. “Then a hot meal. Then a room.”

The woman smiled. “Aye. My name is Ciara. And what might yours be, Master?”

The stranger hesitated for a moment before replying. “Civilicus.”

“Master Civilicus.” She nodded. “A raw night to be abroad.”

“Aye. Nearly frozen, thus the need for hot drink.” He threw her a cooper coin which Ciara deftly caught in a slender fingered hand.

“I’ll go fetch the Master’s supper then.”

She did a quick curtsy before sashaying through the dining hall. Civilicus watched the sweet-faced wench go. He noted the rolling sway of her sensual hips beneath her sweeping skirt and the way her bare feet skipped over the cold stones of the inn’s floor before she disappeared through a door in the east wall. Involuntarily, he grunted deep in his throat. It’d been some time since he’d looked upon a woman as a possible bedmate. For many years he hadn’t been able to afford the distraction from his mission of pursuit. But that mission, that all-too necessary quest, had now successfully ended. He could afford to attend to his more animalistic needs.

While waiting for the maid’s return he threw his snow-sodden cloak completely from him, draping the thick variegated gray fur over a chair near the fireplace. Then he shrugged off his heavy backpack and unbuckled his sword belt before warming himself at the low-burning fire.

# # #

Ciara brought heated vodka in a crudely thrown but large earthenware cup, a wooden plate with a slab of pork, beans, and yellow-corn bread. There was also a bowl of potato honey pudding.

Civilicus first took a deep drink of vodka then fell to the meal with gusto, using his fingers and short belt-knife as utensils. He hadn’t eaten a hot meal in nearly a week, wood being scare in the frozen wastes north of the Hockwood Forest. Even dried animal dung and desiccated bone had been buried under the snowy wastes. He’d been forced to content himself on the last part of the road with jerky and hard bread. He ate in silence while the serving wench sat in a chair somewhat down the table and quietly smoked her pipe while watching the man.

“You’re of southern blood,” she finally ventured.

“Yes.” He took another long swallow of the vodka.

“Ah,” she smiled, her pretty face lighting up. “I thought so. Not many of your people venture this far north.”

“No. I suppose not.” He wiped pork grease from his mouth, licking his full lips and bit off into the crumbly bread.

Ciara drew her knees up to her full breasts, the obvious caps of her nipples straining against her dress cloth, and smoked her pipe in silence. Watching him eat, dhe wondered but did not ask how the stranger had found his way to her remote little town.

The late-night patron quickly finished his meal. Although he ate in a deliberate fashion and never seemed to hurry, the food quickly disappeared from Civilicus’ platter. When done, he dipped his fingers into his vodka and wiped them on the hem of his wool pullover shirt. Ciara was mildly confounded by his actions, having never seen anyone use a fingerbowl or napkin in her life.

Civilicus felt the girl watching his every move. He didn’t mind her staring. A deep brown man was a curiosity in the far northern land of the pale and pink-skinned. Throughout the long years of his journey he’d grown used to the attention. Now that he was on his way home, his business in the north being concluded, let the natives stare all they wanted. And it wasn’t unpleasant to be the center of attention of a beautiful female. His cock had slowly hardened as the meal had warmed him and the girl’s aroma had invaded his wide nostrils, filling his lungs.

“I’ll have the same of everything,” he told the maid, looking into her expressive eyes.

She nodded. “Yes, Master.”

And Ciara gracefully unfolded herself from the chair, once more going into the kitchen with a saucy swish of her skirt and aprons. A trail of hemp smoke trailed on the air behind her, as well as the musk of her natural scent.

She is a pretty little one, he thought. A bit thin but ripe.

Taking the opportunity to get up without the girl seeing the prominent bulge in his rawhide trousers, Civilicus scooted back his chair and went across the room to his belongings. He dug into his pack and brought out a pouch and pipe of his own. It seemed that most adults in the North smoked pipe weed and he too had picked up the habit in his travels.

He had time to pack the pipe but put it aside without lighting when Ciara reentered the room with his food. Once more he ate as the girl watched on in silence. Both keenly aware of the other. Ciara began to blush for no apparent reason.

“More,” she asked after he’d finished the second helping.

Civilicus shook his head. “No, that’ll do. I think I’ll have a smoke now.”

He stood, quite aware that his stiff cock had grown down his trouser leg, the bulge obvious to the girl’s discerning glance, as he found a chair by the fire. Ciara’s eyes widened and her pouty lips parted in a soft gasp, but she made no other comment as her skin tone deepened to a rosy hue.

For a good half-hour they smoked together, staring into the flames when not casting furtive glances at one another.

“Time for me to be abed now, I think,” Civilicus said, tapping his pipe bowl on the hearthstone, knocking out the ashes. His mood now decidedly mellow from the food and the smoke, he picked up his cloak and backpack.

Ciara nodded. “Yes, Master.” Suddenly shy, she retrieved a candle from the fireplace mantel and lit it. “If you’ll follow me.”

She led him upstairs. With it’s second floor, the inn enjoyed the distinction of being the tallest building in the village. It’d been built centuries before by the former ruling family of the region. The last of that family had died of the pox years before and the innkeeper Soren had come to own the tavern by right of squatting. The warped floorboards creaked and squeaked beneath their feet as Ciara led Civilicus to an empty room at the end of the hall. As they walked the length of the long hall they passed closed doors on either side of the corridor, behind some came the expected sound of snoring. One panel muffled the sound of a woman’s excited voice, whether she spoke in anger or encouragement Civilicus could not be sure, nor did he much care.

Finally, Ciara stopped at a door at the end of the corridor. “This room has a freshly stuffed down pillow and the mattress is packed with nearly new straw. It’s only been slept on twice,” she said, gracing him with a sultry smile before quickly averting her glance.

She opened the square lock on the door with a skeleton key from her apron pocket and lifted the latch, then held open the door for Civilicus who stepped into the room. Ciara set the candle in its holder on a roughhewn table by the door and hurried past the guest to turn down the narrow bed. The shape of her nicely rounded ass plain under the long skirt as she bent over the bed.

“If you’d been expected, I would’ve placed a bed warmer to chase the cold from the sheets,” Ciara said, turning her head and looking back at him over her shoulder. Her tone was apologetic, inviting and arousing all at the same time. In the room’s unheated air her exhalations came as white puffs of vapor.

“It’ll be alright,” Civilicus responded, putting his cloak over a chair and his backpack in a corner of the small room, along with his sword. “The ground has been my bed for weeks. This stuffed palette is a luxury compared to that. It’ll more than do.”

Ciara nodded, but made no move to leave the room. It was clear to Civilicus that she had no wish to part from his company quite yet and it was as equally clear to Ciara that he had no urgent wish to see her go. They stared at each other, frankly appraising one another as male and female before Civilicus broke the tension by sitting on the bed and began to remove his boots.

“Here, Master, let me help with that,” she said, going to her knees before him.

The door swung shut of its own accord as Ciara grasped his scuffed wet boot. She put one hand behind the heel and one hand just below his calf and gave a good tug. The boot came off in a smooth motion. Ciara set it aside before removing the other one, then placed her hands on her thighs. Still on her knees she looked up at him, her eyes bright.

“Is there any other way I might serve you? Master?”

A slow smile pulled at Civilicus’ broad lips. On his long walk down from the high artic he had been without human company for months. He’d been without a woman for much longer. And the wench was extremely sexy, without a doubt.

“Mayhap,” he allowed. “Could be.”


Drops of sweat ran into the corners of Ciara’s lovely eyes, stinging them. Her normally silky and shiny blonde hair hung limp and damp over her brow and down the sides of her head. She gave a short cry as she felt another orgasm rushing through her, tightening her tummy. Her pussy, soggy with her hot flowing juices, thoroughly drenched the hard fat cock buried deep inside her. Her passage rippled and clenched around the huge meat which invaded her molten cunt.

Moaning incoherently, she lost herself in the rut. Ciara’s lips were parted, pulled back from her teeth, as she rode atop Civilicus’ sweaty body. Impaled solidly around his long black cock she ground and rotated her hips hard as another climax began to roar through her. Crying out, trembling, she collapsed across his chest, smashing her full tits across his corded pectorals, and bit down hard on his muscular shoulder. She grunted like an animal, the sound crumbling into a whimpering moan. When her lover gave her a hard swat across her smooth and soft ass the over-stimulated wench screamed into Civilicus’ shoulder and shuddered as she came for the countless time that night. She was so lightheaded she feared passing out as her climax grabbed her with giant hands, shook her mercilessly and shot strong thrilling bolts outward from her shuddering pussy throughout her trembling body.

“Fuck me, girl,” Civilicus growled. His large calloused hand smacked her damp ass again. “Ride me, slut.”

“Yes, Master,” she responded in a gasping, whining voice.

Her pussy muscles dancing wildly around his huge dark dick, her shapely legs were to either side of his hardmuscled body stretched across the straw-filled mattress. The intense climax sizzled through her for an endless time, tears leaked from her squeezed shut eyes as she gave herself up completely to the sensation. No man, no cock, had ever forced such a severe reaction from her. Ciara hadn’t known it was possible to come so hard for so many times. Her strength left her as the orgasm began to slowly ebb, she heard her heartbeat boom in her ears as she lay on Civilicus slicked body, dizzy and short of breath. She sobbed in both joy and relief, the impact of the release leaving her drained of all tension, completely satiated.

Civilicus chuckled softly as the woman’s sex continued to clench and shudder around his ogre’s cock. He slipped a finger between the rounded cheeks of her ass, pressing the digit to the wrinkled eye of her anus and rubbed it gently before inserting the finger up to the second knuckle.

“Master,” Ciara groaned, as she felt her pucker rose violated.

Then Civilicus jerked his hips up, humping as deep into her as he could, the snout of his vast cock knob banging her far wall. He snarled as he finally released his own orgasm. His sac, dark and wrinkled, drew close to his body before the over-pressurized cum raged up through his long and thick shaft. His scalding hot seed blasted into her quivering cunt, splattering thick against her walls.

Ciara cried out once more, but too drained to move, she lay atop her lover and received his lava-hot seed, her perfect cheeks squeezing around the finger jammed into her bottom. Once more she gasped, “Master.”

For his part, Civilicus growled as he dumped his steaming cum into the girl, marking her with his scent. He sawed his thickly veined pole in and out of her, opening her far wider than any man before, coaxing every drop of his cum from his balls into her eager pussy as the hard nubs of her pebbled nipples dragged over his chest.

The new lovers, depleted from their efforts, lay in an embrace for a long time. In their exertions they’d thrown the quilts from them and their naked bodies steamed in the wintry air of the room. Civilicus felt his cum and Ciara’s pussy cream ooze from the seal of her stretched cunt mouth, down into his pubic hair and over his balls. He gave a rumbling chuckle from deep in his chest, Ciara feeling the vibrations through her flattened breasts.

Eventually they drowsed and the wee hours of the night wore on.

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