Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 22

A loud crash echoed through the room as it's wooden door burst open.

Zhair'lo, entirely disoriented, woke up with a start. Where was he?

'Oh, right - the Fighter Barracks.'

They'd been told to stay awake until the candles burned down. The candles were not burned down, and yet he had definitely been asleep. How had that happened?

'No matter.'

A girl he didn't know lay next to him, her naked back toward the door. She was gently stroking his flaccid penis and trying to wake him.

Over her deeply tanned shoulder, Zhair'lo could see Sergeant Yung and two leathered women standing at the door. Yung was hammering away at a cooking pan with some kind of metal spoon.

"Anybody asleep in here?" he shouted.

Murmurs of denial came back.

"Better not be."

With a condescending smirk, the three of them left the small room and slammed the door behind them.

A moment later, it was hard to believe it had actually happened.

"Thanks for the cover," Zhair'lo said.

The girl, her hand still trying to bring life to his member, nodded shyly.

"Can't see how it would be good for any of us," she said. "May as well stick together."

"Zhair'lo," he turned to face her properly.

"Tara."

Tara seemed almost as tired as Zhair'lo felt, which made it hard for him to get any idea what she was really like. He tried to imagine the sort of impression she might have of him, dozing off when he should be having sex.

Sliding a hand down her back, over her right cheek and down her leg, he tried to figure out her Discipline.

"Tight? With one in Iron?"

Tara nodded appreciatively.

"You can tell?"

"I did a lot of upgrades -"

"- and a lot of Virgins," she taunted.

It was the first sign of any personality so far.

"Yeah. A lot of virgins."

He wondered if she could hear the difference between the two words.

"Well, I hope I don't disappoint you," she snarked. "I'm long past breaking in."

Zhair'lo tried to look into her eyes to see what sort of attitude she had, hoping to figure out how he should respond, but all he saw was a solidly belligerent front.

"I'll just have to shove it in deeper, then," he replied.

"Oh," she let out a theatrical gasp. "We'll just have to work you a lot harder, if that's what we're going for."

Tara twisted around to put her back to him, then reached around to pull his penis between her thighs.

"Doing it from behind is how you get it deeper, you know?"

Keeping her legs spread, she began gently slapping his cock against her bare mound.

"Nice," he complimented, running his hands over her warm, hard stomach.

"Yeah. Iron's alright," Tara said.

"No Facial for you?"

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" she asked as she rubbed his hardening shaft across her entrance.

"Like what?"

She leaned back and purred an admonishment over her shoulder at him as she enclosed him within her thighs.

"Coming in my face."

"Ah."

"Have you come in a lot of faces?" she purred. "How many?"

Zhair'lo had to think about that.

"Quite a few," he breathed. "And a mouth or two."

"Delicious, I'm sure."

Tara was completely slick, with the juices leaking out from between her lips having thoroughly coated her thighs. Zhair'lo tried not to think too much about the nature of what was lubricating his cock.

"Time to get you inside me," she called back, a matter of fact tone in her voice. "I can carry you from there."

Zhair'lo wouldn't have considered himself quite ready at that point, but given the state of her vagina, he didn't imagine his semi-flaccidity would prove too much of a hindrance.

With a sly movement of her hips, Tara shifted her body upward. The slippery grip her thighs had on his cock changed the angle, setting him perfectly against her opening. Another shift, and he felt himself easily enveloped by her soft, wetness.

...

As the mesh took hold, Zhair'lo felt himself harden and her tighten around him.

Tara really was a belligerent pain in the ass. It was the only way she knew to relate to people. If she couldn't be playfully annoying, she couldn't be anything at all.

Also, she was a lot more into this multiple-partner thing than Zhair'lo was.

Or at least her arousal was higher.

For a moment, he considered the relevance of the ease of the extra sexual encounter he had on his record for the night. What might it be like for the Renzi, Kit and Z'rus, who might have had more eager partners earlier in the evening?

"Pay attention, jackass," Tara muttered.

She had noticed his wandering thoughts.

Zhair'lo jabbed forward, feeling the muscled hardness of her cheeks digging into his pelvis.

"Nice and hard, huh?" she said.

From her thoughts, he could tell she meant her ass, not his erection.

"I love a good grind," she added, twisting her hips into him.

Zhair'lo snaked hist left arm under her body to hook around her chest. The right hand he put on her hip to pull her in tighter. Tara murmured appreciatively.

"The thumb," she whispered.

"Huh?"

"Where your thumb is ... on my ass."

He looked down at the way he had grabbed her, with his fingers wrapped around her hip bone and his thumb digging into the muscles of her cheek. Was that what she meant? The mesh told him, yes, exactly that. He jabbed his thumb deeper into her flank - she moaned.

"Harder."

The pleasure of this harsh massage technique washed back over him. Tight girls always made him tense, what with their need to be spanked.

"Grind my ass," Tara demanded. "Dig way in there."

The only way Zhair'lo could manage any more force was to close his fist and push his knuckles into her flesh. Her muscles began to yield and he could feel an odd sense of relaxation overcome both of them.

"Madra Zen, that's nice," she said, as if he couldn't feel it himself. "Don't know why I'm so tense."

Zhair'lo winced. He knew the tension wasn't her fault. He'd felt himself lock up the moment he'd recognized her Discipline. Even with the previous encounter behind him, he still worried he might seize up if Tara asked him to -

"Pound me," she pleaded.

Nine gods.

"Just use your fist."

Keeping his knuckles pointed at the hollow of her cheek, he raised his fist away from her body and brought it back down.

"Oh," she crooned. "Again."

With that demand came the mental clarification: 'Harder'.

He brought his fist down on her flesh and felt the wave of numb relaxation shoot down her thigh.

The light in the room flickered suddenly and gently faded toward darkness. It was an obvious enough change, even through the mesh and their exhaustion, that they both twisted around to look at the desk behind Zhair'lo. One candle had gone out. The other was nearing the end of its life.

Relief flowed through them both for the ordeal was nearly over.

When they turned back to their former positions, Zhair'lo found that Tara's muscles were tightening around him, although he had to admit that the little twisting motion they'd just added to the mix might have hardened him as well.

He didn't need to hear her demands at this point. She was arching her back to get her hips aligned as far away from him as he could, to deepen his penetration. There was a certain sense in which Tara was exposing her ass to him, and he could feel that, too. Which did she want, he wondered?

Zhair'lo decided to go with the fist.

The first strike to her rear was rewarded with a glorious wave of numbness and relaxation that spread down her thighs, past her knees and almost to her toes.

'Awesome,' was Tara's verdict, coming over the link.

Again and again he thumped his fist down against her cheek, feeling her body tremble with every impact. Even as her legs went numb, though, her vagina tightened around him.

As orgasm approached, the last candle flickered out and they were cast into darkness.

"One good slap," Tara pleaded. "Let everyone hear it ..."

Zhairlo understood this was her thing. He could feel her need to perform. Tara wanted to be seen and, if making a visual spectacle of herself was prevented by darkness, she at least wanted to be heard.

Tara wanted everyone to know she was doing it right. And having her man spanking her meant that he was aroused, attracted to her, and being properly Served.

In the darkness, he raised his hand. She felt his body shift and knew by the way the bed moved exactly how far away that hand was. She knew, too, by the way his mind shivered, that the palm was open. Anticipation swarmed through the mesh. Her muscles, wrapped around his erection, tightened even more.

Zhair'lo's hand rushed down. Tara held her breath, fighting to hold off their orgasm.

There was a loud crack as palm met cheek. Tara screeched as Zhair'lo grunted and fired a stream of semen into her belly. Her upper body twitched suddenly, so her back came up against his chest. But with Tara numb from the waist down, Zhair'lo had to hold her hips in place with his right hand so he could keep thrusting into her. His left hand, meanwhile, was crushing one of her breasts against her chest.

Semen continued to spurt into her long after he thought it should have stopped. How much could he produce, really? He wondered ...

But he couldn't wonder very long. He was soon empty, both in mind and body. Extricated from Tara's genitals, with the darkness around him, it took him only seconds to fall asleep.

--===================--

Lying in bed, Talla awoke with her thighs tightly clenched and the middle finger of her right hand embedded between her lips. She'd been dreaming and masturbating in her sleep. Her finger was soaked and her legs were numb.

Without thinking, she pressed her clitoris down hard, toward her vagina, and a rewarding wave of pleasurable relaxation moved through her lower body. Some ghost pressed against her rear and she felt a real wetness leak out under her thighs.

One more squeeze of her clitoris ... her finger touched the ring of her vaginal entrance ... she shuddered as an orgasm washed over her.

Delirious, she fell back asleep.

She would only have a vague memory of the episode when she woke up.

--===================--

Sergeant Yung was there - again - with the cooking pan. Zhair'lo couldn't believe it.

Very early daylight crept in around the edges of the blinds. Was it even sixth bell? How long had they been up last night? Surely it had been well past midnight before the candles had gone out.

A shock of fear went through him. He was still wrapped around the naked form of Tara, her hip and one of her small breasts still in his hands, his penis trapped limply against her cheeks.

'Women and men should not be sleeping together!' some foreign memory shouted desperately inside his mind.

No one slept much longer anyway. Sergeant Yung was at the doorway, gleefully hammering away with his metal spoon as older men and women moved quickly through the room, shouting at all of them to get on their feet.

Disoriented, hungry and slightly sick, they were herded out of the room. Tara had the sense to reach for her clothing, but even those tiny pieces of fabric were not permitted - they were knocked out of her hands by a woman who shoved her toward the door.

Naked, they found themselves outside in the light of dawn. Lightly clothed Fighters and armoured women pushed them along the alleys to a building made of stone with giant cisterns built high above it.

Inside, the place was nothing but an exterior wall and a network of pipes and spigots hanging from the ceiling. Levers were flipped and ice cold water dumped over naked bodies. Zhair'lo shook with cold, but at least he was awake.

When the blast of water ceased, there were bars of soap, handed to the female recruits.

"Wash each other," one of the women ordered, "then get your asses back to your Barracks."

There was no time limit given, but no one wanted to tarry either. Tara was on him immediately, lathering him with the rough soap.

"Ever Primed?" Zhair'lo asked.

Tara actually smiled, breaking through the vague aura of terror that permeated the room.

"I don't think that's what we're going for here," she laughed, soaping up his penis.

"It would take a lot of sucking to get me going," he admitted with a tilt of his head.

"I doubt it," she admonished.

Having finished his legs, she handed him the soap and turned her back to him, sliding her cheeks against his soap-slippery pelvis.

"No time for that, I bet," Tara said, surrendering to his hands.

Zhair'lo muttered his agreement and washed her hair, as quickly and savagely as she had done his, before proceeding down her body. Her back was first, then her breasts. There were little dimples in one of her breasts, arrayed around the nipple, depressions in her skin that he traced with his fingertips.

"That was you," she said.

"Huh?"

"Last night ... uh ... this morning, I guess. You're more of a boob guy, I guess."

His squeezing had done that, during their orgasm?

"Sorry."

"S'alright," she said, sounding offended. "You feel it, you go with it. The mesh would have told you to stop if it was a problem."

Kneeling down as she had before him, Zhair'lo washed her lower body. Tara supported herself on his shoulders so she could lift a leg and let him wash between her cheeks. She parted her lips, too, so he could gently rub a bit of soap around her entrance.

Without warning, she kicked the lever that doused them in another bracing load of ice cold water. He stood up quickly and found himself facing her. Apparently without thinking, Tara clung to him under the freezing onslaught.

"Hah!" she yelled out, tucking her head into his chest.

Another kick of the lever ended the flow of water and she moved slightly apart from him. They kept their faces turned down to let the water run off their heads without getting in their mouths. Tara's nipples, he noted, were hard as rocks and a delightful shade of dark red.

She caught him looking, then scooped her little breasts up in her hands, squeezing until the little red nipples were trapped between thumbs and forefingers.

"I'm sure we'll get to fuck again, later," she taunted.

'Insatiable,' Zhair'lo judged. 'Clearly.'

A moment later there were clothed people in the showers again, yelling and shoving, turning on cold water for those who hadn't rinsed yet, herding them all back to the room in which they'd slept.

On their beds were new clothes.

Zhair'lo's eyes widened as they took in the shining brown leather.

There was a set of real, fighting armour on each bed.

That small stack of leathers floored him even though he knew it wasn't the serious kind of armour. It was knee length shorts for the boys and knee length skirts for the girls. The girls' tops, additionally, were the kind that left the mid-riff bare.

'Utterly impractical; ceremonial,' said one part of his brain.

'Official,' said another part.

Clothing had never meant anything to Zhair'lo. Sure, women showed up in different colours and styles, but he'd never noticed those until he'd started noticing women in general. Through quizzing Talla and the many other visitors to his bed, he had a pretty shrewd notion of the relationship between clothes, colours and rank. But for himself and other men, clothing had never been any colour other than the various shades of beige and never a style except what function demanded. The outfits for Hunters, for example, were designed with extra straps for a bow and a quiver. Zhair'lo had never found it remarkable.

This, however, was a uniform. He'd known the word for a long time. He must have seen Fighters before and someone had said the word, because the word came to his mind the moment he saw the outfit on his bed. No other occupation, at least for men, had a uniform. The closest were the cloth aprons of the bakers and butchers and the heavier aprons of the smiths.

"Get dressed," Yung popped into the room out of nowhere.

The top was snug, but laced in places at the shoulders and sides so that he could move easily. The shorts were slightly looser around the waist and crotch, but tight around his thighs.

"Look at the left breast of your uniform," Yung went on. "Pull the flap up and tie it in that position."

Zhair'lo did so and found a hollow circle of white fabric tightly stitched into the leather.

"That circle means you're a Recruit. You don't fight - not yet. You stay out from underfoot in an emergency. You let marching soldiers pass you. If you hear the horn blow, you stay out of the way."

"The horn, sir?" Renzi twitched in confusion.

"You'll hear it later," Yung cast a sideways glance. "It's used if we come under attack."

Zhair'lo gulped. He didn't think he'd ever heard any such horn, but the look on the Sergeant's face seemed to suggest, at the very least, that Sergeant Yung had heard the horn a number of times.

"While you're inside any Barracks, you keep that rank patch visible," Yung warned, tapping the black Chevron on his own chest. "Outside - in the wild or the city - you keep it covered. It's nobody's business. Clear?"

"Yes, sir!" they chorused back.

"Good," he sneered. "Let's step outside."

It seemed to Zhair'lo, as they all scrambled through the door, that Sergeant Yung spent his life in a constant state of very mild disappointment.

A short distance away was a small square of grass, perhaps ten metres a side, surrounded by wooden buildings with slightly raised, awning-covered wooden porches. At the backs of these porches, leaning up against the walls of the buildings, were arrays of wooden weapons. The fact that Zhair'lo could identify only a handful of them caused his eyes to light up: here was something new to learn.

'You're going to teach me how to destroy you.'

Sergeant Yung began positioning them in the centre of the small space, forming two rows of four with the boys across the front and the girls two paces behind them.

"This is how you will march when we are four abreast," he said. "Remember your position. You will always form up in this exact way, left to right and front to back."

Zhair'lo looked to the left to see Renzi, to his right Kit and farther to the right Z'rus. Bree was at his back, with Tara to her left, a girl named Zia on her right and Del the farthest to the right, behind Z'rus.

"If it is necessary to walk two abreast," Yung explained. "Zhair'lo and Kit will step forward -" a jerk of his head drew them two paces toward himself - "and Renzi and Z'rus will fall in behind."

A wave of the Sergeant's hands was enough to push the boys in line.\

"As you continue to march ...", Yung trailed off, drawing all four boys forward, "Bree and Zia will come with you while Del and Tara fall in behind."

What followed was the most tedious experience of Zhair'lo's life. Sergeant Yung marched them around the inside of the Barracks, through every alley and little road the place had, all the time shouting out "Left! Right! Left! Right!" to keep them synchronized. Periodically, because of either the narrowness of an alley or merely because it pleased him, he called out an order such as "Two abreast!" or "Four abreast!".

After one bell of this nonsense, he called out "Ready! Halt!". When they failed to come to a synchronized stop, he had them start up again, called out another halt - and another, and another - until they got it right.

When he was satisfied with this, he started them marching again.

The good part, Zhair'lo realized, was that he would have the entire layout of the Barracks memorized in no time. Sergeant Yung was intent on making them march up and down every single road, path and alley the fort contained, and he seemed to want to do this for bell after bell.

When the tenth bell rang out, he immediately called for a halt.

"Good," he said. "Now, when I order 'Attention!', you bring your feet together, your hands go flat to your sides and your eyes go straight ahead."