When Bran finally came to and realized what he’d done, Mora had watched the shame flood into his eyes. 

“Fuck,” he said, just one word, and buried his face in his hands. For one horrible second, his shoulders heaved with his anguished breathing, and Mora’s heart lurched in her chest. 

Slowly, she pulled herself up to sitting, wincing at the combined soreness of the muscles in her inner thighs and her throbbing, well-used pussy. On instinct, her inner walls clenched at the sensation of Bran’s thick, hot cum dribbling out between her nether lips. In a daze, she reached with two fingers to scoop some out, marveling at how much there was. How much of his virility had he left inside her? Maybe the tingling of arousal should have disgusted her, but by the gods, she was only a woman. Even now, when she ought to have been cursing Bran for taking her maidenhood, her eyes couldn’t help but drop down to where that gorgeous cock laid across his muscular thighs, soft and spent and pink once more.

“Bran—,”

Lo, and that pretty cock twitched at her words, jumping suddenly with the resulting rush of blood. Bran’s head snapped up and he growled, wild-eyed, “Don’t!” 

She reared back, her heart pounding and her hands thrown out before her. She must have looked horrified, because his expression changed then, to one of pain. 

“I’m sorry, my lady, but don’t, please,” he said, voice heavy with misery. He grabbed his manhood with his hand, as if he could choke the blood out and force it to return to a limp state. “I should have told you when I first came back. I’ve been cursed by a fairy of the woods. I cannot hear my name pass through your lips without being compelled to…”

“To fuck me?” Mora said slowly. Just to say the words, filthy as they were, sent another thrill down to her loins. 

“I think the exact words the fairy used were to ‘break my vows’,” Bran replied bitterly. He looked away, his expression rancid with self-loathing. “Please don’t call me Bran for the time being. Not until I track that little green bitch down and make her lift her spell.”

Mora nodded, but she’d gone back to watching the shiny glimpse of his cockhead, peeking out from the tight grip of his hand. Almost without realizing, he’d begun to stroke himself just slightly, perhaps a self-soothing gesture. 

“Very well, sir,” she said carefully. “And…will you set off on your quest now?”

Bran pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I’ll see you to the duke first. Once you’re safe, I’ll return to these woods again.”

Mora looked down at herself, to the globules of cream crusting on her inner thighs, and the rucked-up state of her silk chemise. And now, her purity was gone. How could the duke want her in such a state? Oh, her father would be a wreck if she was sent back. 

“I know it’s night,” she said. “I know it’s cold. But I can’t help thinking I ought to bathe, at least in some capacity. Would you accompany me to some kind of river?”

Bran shook his head. “We shouldn’t risk it. If there are dryads in the trees, there’s bound to be naiads in the water. Or kelpies. I’ll go and fetch a pail of water for you, but I can’t let you go in.”

Mora nodded wordlessly, her eyes following him as he rose then, his erect cock bobbing slightly. Although she’d never seen a cock before today, it struck her as odd that it was still so stiff and engorged, showing clearly through the breeches he pulled back up around his waist. As he tucked his shirt back in, that little tent in the fabric remained the sole object of her attention, unbeknownst to him. 

“Right,” he said, turning back to her once he was dressed. She looked away in a hurry, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes’ time with the water. Please remain in the tent until I return.”

She said, “Alright, B—”

His ears flushed red as she halted, barely remembering to catch herself. And was it her imagination, or did the imprint of his swollen cock jump a little? “Alright, Sir Merrickson.”

Bran nodded and moved to leave, then halted, and looked back at her. She’d never seen a man look so pained, so exhausted and ashamed.

“Mora, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick, his eyes bright with what she supposed must have been unshed tears. Then he went, those long, strong legs carrying him into the dark embrace of the forest. 

Now alone, Mora crawled into the tent and collapsed among the furs that made up her bedroll. Her Bran, big, strong, stolid Bran, reduced to tears? The last time she’d seen him cry was when they were both very young children. The world, it seemed, had been turned upside down. 

It occurred to her that she probably ought to have been trembling and mute with terror given the events which had just transpired, and that it wasn’t very ladylike, how untraumatized she seemed to be. It certainly wasn’t very godly. Mora ran an absent hand down her ribs, her side, her hips, and grazed over her mound as she thought. 

The truth of it was that for all the debauchery which had just occurred, out of the two of them, she knew she was the wicked one. Poor honorable Bran, at the mercy of a dryad’s spell, had broken his vows, had taken her and spilled his hot seed inside her, yes. But he had nearly wept to do it, and now he could not even look at her. So he had hated it, had loathed to do it, and would now torment himself with self-loathing for the rest of his days — this much was clear to her. Bran was such a simple man, with such simple and pure beliefs. It had always made him seem so different from the other guardsmen, those snickering, smug, small-cocked bullies, who she knew spoke so lewdly about her when she wasn’t around, telling one another how they’d pound her with their little four-inch pricks until she begged for their seed. They all sickened her. All of them except him. 

And here was the trouble now, at the heart of it. 

Mora’s fingers slowly, tenderly, slipped down to the hem of her soiled chemise and dragged it back over her hip bones. The cool air kissed her pussy as she spread her thighs wide. Her naughty, exploratory fingers parted her southern lips and touched that sloppy, silken slit which Bran had ravaged so recently. Her clitoris jumped and tingled, her pussy aching as she gently churned the opening of her cunt with her fingertips. 

The trouble was that Mora was a wicked girl with horrible, wicked thoughts and no one knew how awful they were. Nobody knew the hours she spent in her four-poster bed, with an erotic book she’d had to steal from a chambermaid just to get her hands on it, her fingers fucking rapidly into the hungry, hungry entrance between her lilywhite thighs. Nobody knew how she sweated and trembled, how her eyes fluttered and rolled, as her mind ran wild with fantasies of some noble knight sweeping into her room, pinning her to the bed, and taking her with his hot, slick sword. 

No one knew that on this ride with Bran, these tortuous three days alone with him, she’d spent almost every hour on horse back watching his broad, strong back, grinding her pussy into the hard saddle, and keeping herself on the edge of orgasm, thinking about what Bran might do to her if he were not such a gentleman. If she were not such a lady. 

And the worst part of all, worse than the pure elation she’d felt when his cock first sank home inside her, worse than the way she moaned like a whore when she squirted all over him, was the fact that after two sloppy, vigorous rounds —

She was still desperate for more. 

“Ohhh,” she moaned as she finally allowed her fingers to squelch into her aching cunt, sending warm cum oozing out. “Oh, Bran….”

She began to work her fingers steadily in and out of herself, satisfying the sweet honeyed fire that was raging on between her legs. Her mind was lost in a haze of pleasure, recalling the weight of Bran’s strong body on her, the heady masculine smell of him surrounding her, the deep flush of blood in the thick mushroom head of his dick as he’d positioned it over her lips, begging to be touched.

Her pussy practically gushed at the memory. Fuck, there was something about it, the desperation in his voice as he’d begged her to touch him, to suck him, to make him feel good. At once, she became aware of her orgasm on the near horizon, and began fucking herself harder in excitement. She focused on him now, his wide, pleading eyes, the way he’d looked so pained as he jackhammered into her wet passage, his face a mix of guilt and pure pleasure. She’d done that to him — even through the guilt, the shame, the reluctance, her body had still milked the orgasms out of him. The mere sound of her voice had been enough to have his member pulsing and unable to be subdued. 

“Ungh, that’s so naughty,” she murmured to herself, though she could barely hear her own breathy voice over the roar of blood in her ears. The powerful erotic tingling of her imminent orgasm was sweeping through her pussy now, her fattened clit singing with every time her hand slammed home inside her and ground it against her pubic bone. “Bran, baby, did you like my wet pussy? Did I make you feel good? You came so fast inside me, like you could barely help it.”

She imagined him here now, watching her, what he might say. How his face might turn red, how he’d meet her eyes, looking both ashamed and aroused. She imagined him stroking that thick cock as he watched her, unable to help himself from such an erotic sight. 

It was all becoming too much: the visions of his shiny, slick cockhead appearing and disappearing in his rapidly-pumping fist, the memory of his animal grunts as he rutted into her like a beast in heat, her own traitorous pussy practically gushing the moment he’d entered her, turning her once virtuous-tunnels into a rosy pink fucked-out mess. 

“Aahh,” she wailed as she found that sweet erotic spot inside herself, the potent button that guaranteed pleasure. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck me! Fuck me, oh my godddd.” 

Mora, I’m so sorry — he’d looked so sad, tearful, wracked with shame, and wasn’t it just awful how all she’d been thinking about in that moment was how on earth she was going to get that perfect dick back inside her greedy pussy? 

“Bran, I want you to fuck me,” she panted, arching into her own touch. “Please keep fucking me, please, I want your cock. I want your cock, I want it, I want you to come inside and fill me up, I want you to make me squirt over and over until I— I—.... ughh, unnh, fuck me… fuck me!...FUCKKKKK!!”

Her fingers drilled into her pussy so fast her mind melted to slick, and her ears began to ring as the wave of orgasm finally crested, rendering her unable to move as her pussy began to contract rapidly. Globs of mingled cum dribbled out of her hole and down to the cleft of her ass as she gasped for breath, her fingers finally going still inside her. She concentrated on the sensation of the cream sliding toward her asshole, making no move to stop it, letting her pucker clench away from the alien sensation. 

“Oh,” she whispered to herself, just for the pure pleasure of hearing her own breathlessness, her own godless lechery. She wished more than anything that Bran was here now. She wanted to make him look at her, desire her, touch her. She thought she might go mad with the want. 

As if on cue, from outside the tent she heard approaching footsteps. 

“Lady Landrich?” came Bran’s voice. There was the unmistakable sound of a full water pail being set beside the tent entrance. “Are you alright in there?”

Mora lay perfectly still and silent, her thighs still wide apart, her cream-filled pussy bare to the world, her still-soaked fingers buried in herself. To think there was only a sheet of canvas between them, protecting her soft, nude body from his gaze. Her pussy tingled. 

She said, nervously, praying her voice didn’t betray her, “Yes, I’m alright.”

“There’s water here, when you’re ready,” Bran replied. “If you wanted to clean off.”

“Oh, yes, very good.” 

Mora carefully withdrew her digits with a soft suck and sat up, letting her legs close and her chemise fall back over her maidenhood. The little tent was thick with the smell of pussy, pure and animal, but there was nothing to be done about that. On her hands and knees, she crawled over the landscape of furs until she reached the entrance and stuck her head out of the tent. 

She’d miscalculated how close Bran was standing to it; when she stuck her head out, she found herself nearly nose to nose with his belt buckle, as well as a protruding insistence just beneath it. In unison, they both recoiled in surprise, though Bran jumped back a lot farther. 

“Apologies, my lady,” he blurted out, moving to conceal his prominent bulge. “I should have been more modest, I did not mean for you to —,”

All interest she might have had in the water was lost. “Are you still…aroused, Sir Merrickson?” she demanded, hoping she did not sound too eager. “Even after your excursion to the creek?” 

Bran’s face was red as a tomato. He said, sounding quite humiliated, “My lady, it should not be your concern, I—,”

“If I am truly your lady, you’d answer when I ask questions,” she said impatiently, fanning away his mumblings. “Will it not descend from this state, sir?”

“I…” He looked stubbornly up at the night sky to avoid her eyes, that rosy flush now creeping down his neck and spreading to his chest. “I confess that I attempted to self-relieve it while I was on my excursion and it does not seem that the spell allows for that resolution.”

“Ah,” said Mora, licking her lips. 

“But it is no matter, I can withstand it,” Bran hurried to add. “The discomfort is minor and I am perfectly capable of waiting it out until you are safely delivered before I resolve the issue.”

“You would remain at the precipice of arousal for three more days,” Mora said slowly, moving her shoulder in such a way that the little satin strap of her chemise slipped suddenly off her narrow shoulder, “—and deliver me to the Duke in your current state?”

Bran said nothing. His gaze was still firmly fixed on the sky. Bless him, this simple, sweet boy. Mora rose to her feet and crossed the space between them in two strides. The forest floor beneath her bare feet was damp, but not painful. Perhaps it was the courage lent to her by her very recent orgasm, or a transformation that had overtaken her with the loss of her purity, but Mora somehow found the courage to reach out and touch Bran through the thin fabric of his breeches. The moment the warmth of her hand made contact with his cockshead, he groaned, bending over slightly as if he wanted to thrust into her grasp. 

“Lady Landrich, what are you —,”

“Sir Merrickson,” she said coolly, hooking her fingers into the waist of his breeches. “I have a suggestion for remedying your problem.”

Wordless, he followed as she tugged him toward the tent and led him inside. She watched as his nostrils flared at the thick aroma of sex inside its canvas walls, watched his pupils dilate simultaneously as the bulge in his pants strained horribly. He looked around in some kind of awestricken disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe her capable of such a thing. 

“The spell won’t let your arousal wane unless you finish inside me, is that correct?” she asked, sitting opposite him in the mess of blankets. 

“I believe that is so,” he said, quietly. “But I cannot ask you to — I do not want to be in the state I was in two hours ago. It did not feel… I did not feel human.”

“Then we won’t invoke the magic,” Mora said firmly. “But you cannot stay as you are for the trip. We must attain resolution once more, and then I will be sure not to utter your name again and put you in this state.”

“One last time?” he echoed softly, warily, like he was afraid. “I have already wrought such evil upon you, Morana. I won’t do any worse.”

She scowled. “It’s my suggestion, Sir Merrickson. You wouldn’t be doing anything to me. This would be an… an impersonal solution to a practical problem, which benefits us both. For you, to ease the discomfort, and for me, not to immediately give away to my future husband that my purity is lost.” 

Bran appeared to think about that for a moment, his grey eyes stormy with uncertainty. Then he said, hesitantly, “Are you sure that you…”

“Yes,” Mora said quickly, and then she reached down and pulled her chemise off in one quick movement, leaving Bran’s jaw to drop the full, glorious expanse of her perfect pink skin revealed before him. 

He sputtered, “This is hardly necessary to—,”

“Shut up,” she said, annoyed. “It’s for me, not you. That thing is ruined and wet — I don’t want to wear it anymore. Come here with your problem, Sir Merrickson, let us not waste time. And you may as well strip out of your fouled clothes as well — we can both wash after this.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

Off came the waistcoat, the bracers, and the shirt, revealing a strong, solid man’s body, hardened with muscle in all the right places, but slightly soft at the stomach and chest in a way that made Mora feel weak with desire. She struggled to maintain control over her facial expression as she laid back in the furs, parting her thighs. 

Bless him, but Bran was doing a far worse job of concealing his amazement. As he struggled out of his breeches, freeing his monster from its cage, his eyes were wide as plates drinking in every curve and jiggle of her body. It made her feel deliciously carnal and animal, like she was glowing from inside out. She feigned a professional disinterest as she motioned for Bran to come closer, opening her thighs to accommodate his proximity. 

“Now,” she said briskly. “This is the method I think guarantees the least indignity for us both. You must place the…erm, the terminus of your tool at the very surface of my maidenhood, so you are not even an inch submerged. Then, rather than any fornication, you can engage in self-pleasure, deposit inside me, and the problem is solved. What do you think?” 

Bran’s jaw tensed, untensed, and tensed again. He said, slowly, “I think I can do that. If you don’t say my name, I will promise to keep my discipline.”

“Good. Then you may begin immediately.”

She watched raptly as he seized the trunk of his cock and carefully lined up the glossy head with the entrance of her cunt. Although she’d felt the whole thing inside her just hours ago, it felt larger than she remembered, larger than she could imagine herself taking. But taken it she had. She could already feel herself getting so, so wet as he lodged his tip just inside the grasping mouth of her pussy, groaning as he did so, and then began to slowly use his fist to pump the length of the shaft. 

“Is this going to work? Does it feel any different than when you tried alone?” she asked him, trying to keep her voice even as her pussy contracted needily around his cockhead, her wanton body desperate to engulf him entirely. 

Bran didn’t answer for a second, the only sound the schlep, schlep, schlep of his cock rocking back and forth in his own hand. Then he spoke, his voice a sensual growl, “Oh, it feels different alright.”

Gone was the blushing boy who had stammered through their conversations, looking at the sky. Now here was the Bran she remembered from the heat of the moment, confident, primal, magnetic and masculine. Her poor, sopping cunt nearly wept at being denied a pounding from him. The sensation of his cock barely inside her was maddening, providing just enough contact, just enough of a stretch to have her whole body yearning for him. 

In short, it felt fucking delicious. 

Bran had found his rhythm now, and his cock shifted almost imperceptibly in the mouth of her cunt as a byproduct of his manual stimulation. Although he was just seeking better sensation from the fist around his length, it had the effect of just barely burrowing inside her, a little deeper each time. Millimeter by millimeter, Bran was starting to sink another inch into her — thanks in large part to how ridiculously sopping wet she was. 

“Sorry,” he grunted, flashing her a grin as he retracted out of her back to the original agreed-upon depth. “Slipped.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she moaned under her breath as she registered just that tantalizingly faint movement inside her. 

His eyes widened as he registered the sound, his eyes zeroing in on hers curiously. Cautiously, he started thrusting more sloppily into his own grip, which had the effect of maneuvering his cock deeper back into her passage. She was dimly aware of the whole of the head slipping past the entrance — already more than they’d said would go in. But if he wasn’t saying anything, she sure as hell wouldn’t either; Mora kept her mouth stubbornly shut, and let him drill another inch into her, his breath ragged and soft moans of pleasure escaping him.  

“Gods above,” he muttered, pushing the hair off his sweaty forehead as he thrusted shallow, little strokes into the mouth of her pussy. “I’m close, my lady.”

“Yeah?” she asked, mindlessly, joyously, savoring every little movement inside of her. Then, just for the fun of it, “Be careful with your tool, sir.”

“Of course.” Even in the heat of his desire, he obediently slid back out to a respectable one inch of depth, which was still enough girth to have her stretched wide and happy on his tip. “Mm. Gods, that is amazing. My lady, you are so good to me.”

Mora laughed, partially surprised, partially horrified by the shiver of pure desire that was snaking up her spine. “I’m not sure about that.”

“You are.” As his cock stirred her up, he laid one big hand on her lower abdomen, his thumb rubbing back and forth at the highest protrusion of her hip bone, and his fingers easily gripping the soft fullness of her hip. It was astonishingly sexy, as if she were some fragile delicious morsel beneath him. “Tight, and wet, and so concerned with my wellbeing. Mora, Mora, sweet Mora.”

At the purr in his voice, her stomach did a backflip that was not totally lust alone. But there was no time to ponder whatever the hell that meant, because all of a sudden, Bran’s hips had reared back and then snapped forward again, so his fat hog of a cock suddenly plunged deep into the tight walls of her cunt. Mora wailed out in surprise and began to come instantly, her thighs tensing together as the nectar of her flower flowed all over him. 

“That’s it,” he panted approvingly, reaching to grab one generous tit, his thumb rolling over her erect nipple as he fucked her spasming body straight through he orgasm. “That’s a good girl, come for me. This will get me finished faster, isn’t that just what we want? Aren’t you just trying to milk my come out of me?”

“Yes,’ she found herself gasping as her orgasm abated and she found herself still being mercilessly fucked like a bitch in heat. “Yes, please.”

“Good,” he moaned, slowing down his strokes to really feel every inch of tight, wet ringed pressure squeezing his meat. “Mm, yes, squeeze your walls. Make my cock twitch.”

Was it her imagination, or did it feel like his cock was swelling even bigger? In the haze of her own pleasure, her raw, overstimulated pussy, the sloshing of pussy juice lewdly audible with every thrust, she found she couldn’t be sure. Her head was swimming now, eyelids fluttering, every nerve ending in her body on fire with the simultaneous pain and pleasure of taking dick after her orgasm. 

She made a garbled little noise, back arching as his cock plowed into the pleasure spot at the top of her pussy. If there were words to be said, she could not form them — all she could muster was a high, keening moan and the spasm of her body, and her overused pussy desperately starting to tear through another ruinous orgasm, and then she felt Bran’s enormous cock spear her straight through her cunt and into the entrance to her womb.

Dimly, somewhere, she could hear him moaning, desperate and loud and guttural, as another dose of his fertile cream exploded deep into her hot core. The entire length of his shaft was twitching and jumping with the effort of ejaculating, and his body was a solid, sweaty weight atop her. 

She gasped for breath when it ended and his cock withdrew with a slick sucking noise. Her sex felt like it was sizzling, sparking, blossoming with the tingly aftereffects of such a powerful orgasm. Bran flopped down on the blanket beside her, completely spent, his broad back heaving with the effort of catching his breath. 

In a moment of weakness, Mora rolled onto her side and wormed her way into the little hollow of space by his side. Perhaps too out of it to consider the situation, Bran’s arm settled around her a moment later, his fingers clumsily raking the sweaty hair out of her face. Mora’s eyes drifted closed as he worked. Down between her legs, a river of cum dripped out of her pleased little hole, thick and potent and boiling hot.

She slept.