Arla and the Storyteller
Arla and the Storyteller
"Icharus?" Such a small voice, coming from so far away it felt."Icharus, tell me a story." Icharus would not reply. Back hunched over an opulent redwood desk, transcribing a text older than the king who ordered it. The faint scratch of his quill was hypnotic.
The little voice returned. A jostle, glass breaks, someone gasps. He ignores it, reaching to dip his quill, only to find the ink had gone.
Blinking and startled, the ink-stained parrot raised his head from his work, feathers flaring in agitation, only to smooth when he saw her. The poor little mutt was frantic, tears staining her grey furred cheeks as she tried to decide what could be done with spilled ink.
"Arla?" His voice was honey smooth, befitting his role. Icharus was a patriarch of history, a living well of memories, passed to him from his master, and his master's master's. Arla flinched at his voice and he blinked in surprise, gently taking her arm to lift her to her feet. His young prot destined to replace him, had never looked frightened before, in fact she was often troublesome and rambunctious.
She whimpered pitifully as the old Storyteller surveyed the damage. The little glass inkwell had exploded, showering black pitch across the legs of his desk as well as his cream trousers. It also left blotches of void in the soft grey fur of Arla's bare legs. Less tolerant of the balmy night, Arla had worn plain cotton shorts and a shirt. Lucky girl. His silk trousers would be beyond repair.
"Arla," he cooed, fatherly,"Dear, I'm not mad, have I missed our tutorial?" He couldn't recall scheduling one, but judging by the starlight streaming into the library, dimly lit by half melted candles, if there was one, he had missed it by hours.
She shook her head."No sir." her voice, long grown out of the pubescent squeak, was rough and heavy with dread."I'm sorry, I knew you were working, I was just-"
"Hoping for another story." He cut her off, smiling knowingly. She blushed and nodded. Gently he sat her on a plush couch meant for reading and wandered off into the tall stacks of tomes and scrolls. Arla waited, twiddling her own ink-smudged thumbs, pausing to wipe her eyes. Large brown eyes, red-rimmed from hours of reading.
Icharus returned with several towels over one arm, a tall bottle of thick liquid that sloshed when he moved in the other. He sat beside her and wordlessly patted his lap. It took a moment for her to catch on and she hesitated before setting her feet in his lap.
He uncapped the tall medicinal bottle and Arla, with her more sensitive nose, sneezed, bringing another grin to the parrots beak. He began wetting a towel.
"Arla," he sighed,"What will I do with you?"
She swallowed audibly, fidgeting beside him,"I'm sorry, I am, I sw-YEEP!"
The old Storyteller couldn't help but laugh. The young canine squirmed and giggled as he rubbed the cold solution over her toes and supple calves. It helped remove the ink without having to shave her, but tickled hellaciously. More than enough punishment is his eyes. After awhile, the candles lowering until only the cold stars little the pair, Icharus switched towels, drying a now panting and red-faced Arla.
"Still want that story?"
She nodded violently, lips turning up in a doggy grin, tongue lolling. He laughed,"Well. The Mastodon?"
Arla shook her head,"You've told me that three times!"
"Have I?" Icharus fingered his chin, rubbing his free hand over her delicate ankles."Perhaps...The Valkyrie and the Navigator?"
She chewed her lip as she shook her head this time."The ending's much to sad."
Icharus nodded knowingly."I think I know just the one, a new tale." Arla perked up, ears raising and shifted to sit more upright, her rapt attention on the feathered teacher."A tale of a bard, and a bandit." He grinned mischievously.
"Twas a night much unlike this night." He began, weaving his story."A great storm reigned Hell's fury upon the west. Ice fell like rain, and rain fell like a raging river, washing away all who dared travel during this maelstrom." He spoke as if in a trance, hands idly massaging the curves of Arla's feet and legs. The young girl only fell more deeply into the story.
"The young bard would not be such a fool, for she knew the lands better than the great gods who crafted it. She felt the ill winds long before the storm could even stir the tides, and when it came, she forsook the weak straw village, or even the stone taverns."
"Where did she go?" Arla blurted when Icharus paused for breath.
"Hush, child, or I'll never finish." He squeezed her foot to silence her and cleared his throat to continue."The young woman hid in the Earth Mother's very womb. She hid in a deep cave, sheltered from the wind and rain, and high above the floodwaters."
"What was her name?" Arla asked, too curious to keep quiet.
"We shall call her Arla." That won him a smile and he sallied forth."Arla built a small fire and created a soft bed, leaving her wet clothes to dry by the fire. She played her lute to pass the time, hoping to perhaps lull the wild storm. Instead, a great Bandit heard.
"This bandit was a great warrior and chose to defy the storm, as he had defied armies before. The clouds raged and sought to drown him, but he would not be moved. His comrades, on the other hand, were not so confident, and he watched as they were washed away. Grief stricken at the loss and exhausted by the storm's fury, he collapsed while trying to escape. He made peace in preparation of his death.
"But it wasn't that easy." Arla's eyes widened and she sat up further."Over the roar of thunder, he heard the most beautiful music. He chose to follow it and crawled until he found the opening to a great cave and the music called to him. Out of the rain, exhaustion took hold and he stumbled toward Arla's fire. The young bard was obviously quite startled, but she knew nothing of the intruder except that he was quite soaked, shivering in the cold. Honor forced her to aid the handsome man. Soon he was stripped of his sodden clothes and laid before the fire. The storm continued to rage.
"The bandit, still tired and quite confused, opened his eyes to behold what he believed to be an angel, for Arla and her music were both the most beautiful things he had ever beheld." Arla giggled and rolled her eyes. "Arla sat naked, lit by the glow of the dying fire, serenading the roar of rain, and the bandit, flinching at every flash of lightning, saw that she was also strong. And made her all the more beautiful.
"His body refused him as he tried to move and it startled Arla, who believed the man had awoken in pain or sickness. She was by his side, ladling warm water into his parched mouth. 'Peace.' she said softly, and the tired man obliged. But he would not be silenced. 'Angel.' he spoke, voice hoarse, and Arla rewarded him with a blush.
"She shook her head modestly, suddenly ashamed of her naked body but the bandit would not be dissuaded. He found the strength to take her hand and pierced with fiery eyes. 'You must be an angel.' He said,'You saved me when nothing else could. I heard your music over the storm.'
"Her face, glowing with a modest blush, turned away and she sought to cover herself, but again, the young man would not have it. Defying his tired body, he pulled himself to her and before she could respond, his lips, still a little cold, found the warm, supple give of her mouth, her breath was hot and heavenly on his frozen spirit." Arla was rapt and red-faced now, moving into Icharus' lap, who massaged her tense shoulders.
"Arla's mind sought to curse him for taking such a luxury, but her lips were much to busy exploring his own. His hand found the supple curve of her bosom and she melted into his embrace. In the cold of the storm, her body wanted nothing more than the warmth of another and she found it in this young man." Icharus' hands wandered, fingers tracing the ridges of her ribs.
"Well educated in more than song and story, the young bardess surprised the bandit. He lavished every sight of this earthly angel, but had expected to be punished for his intrusion. Instead she realized his vigor had frozen with his spirit and sought to heal it. Her hand was as heavenly as her mouth when it's warmth found his manhood, which instantly responded to her touch." Arla's thighs were equally hot and pliant under the storytellers hands, and she was deeply engrossed.
"His breath left him when Arla slid from his body, but she did not leave. Her warmth radiated from between his legs and for a moment, lightning illuminated her buxom form for a bare moment then pleasure radiated through the young man's body. Her mouth was warm and wet on his body, kissing, licking, skilled as she lavished the unusual taste of his manhood." Icharus had no need to pause from his story, he knew how to please his prot She cooed pleasantly as his hands slipped under her shirt.
"He couldn't believe it. This bandit, a criminal to most, found himself enthralled by this angel. Her head moved slowly over his nethers, teasing and abusive in the skill with which she pleased his body. It was most un-angelic. Her tongue spun and danced over sensitive flesh, and her body began to react most fervently. But the man was tired, too tired to hold on, and she blushed when he lost his hold on his climax. His musky seed ran across her tongue, and she swallowed every drop, for wasting any would be a sin most unkind." Arla sat hot and naked in the storytellers lap, her back against his soft feathered chest, his skilled hands between her soft thighs. Despite this, he knew she hung on his every word, she was a glorious student.
"The warrior was distraught. Would she be mad? Ridicule his inability? Would she leave? But Arla did none of these. With a messy mouth she kissed the hard muscles of his core and lavished more attention on his manhood. It was all part of her plan. She wouldn't be finished with her new lover for some time it seemed. Soon he was once radiating his musk, his wanton lust for Arla and she was more than happy to oblige him. In the growing dark, lit by embers, Arla straddled the man's strong waist and returned her lips to his. His hips thrusted and in one move he found himself inside her perfect body." Icharus lifted Arla's hips as he spoke, but decided to break tradition. She gasped in surprise as his probing tip found her tailhole and he guided her down with a moan filled with ecstasy.
"S-so naughty..." she gasped, writhing as he penetrated her tightness.
"Isn't it just," he whispered, kissing her head lovingly. The story would not be stopped."The bandit was not a large man, nor did he need to be. His hands scoured every inch of her scintillating, sensitive body, and she moaned with every move of his hips. Her wetness puddled beneath them and she kept her lips with his whenever possible. They breathed as one, their heat warmed the small cave. Already he throbbed within her, and she throbbed upon him, teased and driven to the edge of pleasurable insanity." Arla gasped and writhed on her teacher, trying not to interrupt him, but the unfamiliar feeling that filled her and his strong fingers penetrating her netherlips made her want to scream in ecstasy.
"Arla's soft body became putty under the strong hands of her lover and this time they attained that desperate climax as one. They howled their pleasure to the storm and it retreated in shame, for the storm could find no love like theirs. His warmth filled Arla's body and she knew instantly that never again would a man be as good as this, alone in a dank, cold cave." The real Arla was equally filled with warmth, her juices soaking into the couch as Icharus coaxed every drop out of her.
The two were quiet for awhile, his seed slowly dripping from her rear as he softened, making her shiver."Icharus? How does the story end?"
Icharus took a deep breath, swabbing sweat from his forehead with his sleeve."Well, the bandit has fallen madly in love with this angel, and she with him. That one night was all it took and she soon found herself with child. Her career soared and he left behind his criminal past. They truly lived happily ever after."
Arla smiled, reclaiming her clothes after cleaning herself with one of the towels."Now that's a nice story."
"I'm glad you think so, Arla." Icharus yawned and stood, feeling as exhausted as the bandit."Well I shall rest, dear."
Arla made a move to join him, but the teacher held out a stern hand and pointed to her mess, now a black pile on the floor.
"B-But, that will take hours to clean!" She complained, aghast and a little sore.
"I suppose you should have thought of that before you broke my ink well." Icharus smiled, ruffling the girls hair as she harumphed and pouted. He kissed her head, alleviating some of her ire,"Good luck my love."
She sighed,"Sleep well, Icharus."