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LENGTH:Short Story
SENSUALITY:Carnal

Cover art (c) Eliza Black 2008
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The WindVerse is under attack from a rogue alchemist who is using impotency to drain the powers of every magic-sayer. His plan is to become the only conjurer capable of casting magic. In order to stop his nefarious plan, it will take the combined powers of three very powerful sexual magicians uniting their essences to reverse the magic already done and return the WindVerse to normal.

Alyx is a MageLord, a sexual master very good at his craft. Both he and his companion, Kynt, an Elemental, are needed to bring out the latent powers of a virginal young woman named Vyxn. Only when she comes into her own as their ReceivingMate can the greatest of her powers be unleashed.

Together, the three will journey into pleasures of male and female, male and male until the juices run hot and passion has reached a fever pitch.

Rating: Carnal -- ménage a trios, male-on-male/male-on-female.

THREE HEARTS IN THE WIND

By

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

The WindVerse is under attack from a rogue alchemist who is using impotency to drain the powers of every magic-sayer. His plan is to become the only conjurer capable of casting magic. In order to stop his nefarious plan, it will take the combined powers of three very powerful sexual magicians uniting their essences to reverse the magic already done and return the WindVerse to normal.

Alyx is a MageLord, a sexual master very good at his craft. Both he and his companion, Kynt, an Elemental, are needed to bring out the latent powers of a virginal young woman named Vyxn. Only when she comes into her own as their ReceivingMate can the greatest of her powers be unleashed.

Together, the three will journey into pleasures of male and female, male and male until the juices run hot and passion has reached a fever pitch.

Chapter One

Kynt ran his tongue between his lips a few times. He’d used that expert muscle almost as much during the past night as the one between his legs and it was nearly as numb. Despite walking a bit stiffly, he was pleasantly tired and completely sated. By his reckoning, he’d satisfied nine women in the time it had taken Alyx to do what Alyx did so well.

“But I had the real thing,” Kynt said with a smirk as he walked through the stone wall.

He’d had brown cunt and pink cunt and every shade in between, he thought as he moved down the long corridor. He’d eaten so much sweet fur pie it was a wonder he hadn’t become a diabetic overnight. He was sure if he could weigh himself, he would find he’d gained at least ten stone.

He licked his lips and remembered the salted honey flavors that had mingled in his mouth. The memories brought about a long, pleased sigh of contentment as he relived the evening’s trysts.

Breasts—some heavy and pendulous, some perky and some no bigger than fried eggs. Nipples—most large and tasty if the wench was the breastfeeding kind but a few were shallow buds that needed to be coaxed to attention with delicious little nibbles. Areoles—pink or brown or taupe or dusky peach but every one a delight to lick and flick and lap and lave.

Silken arms and long, powerful legs had clasped him hard. Mouths had taken his and tongues had slipped between his teeth. Bodies had strained against his. Sheaths had pulsed around him with darling little ripples that made his cock quiver with recollection.

“Life is sweet,” he said as he floated along. “Life is so sweet.”

He refused to think about the little things he’d left behind with the women he’d fucked so thoroughly during those fleeting moments he’d been allowed freedom to be what he was. It didn’t bear remembering that in nine months those same women would be cursing their ghostly lover as they strained to bring new life into the world.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and that was the last he would even entertain a breath of guilt.

As he neared Alyx’s chambers, he stopped to ponder the last woman into whom he’d poured his seed. Ah, but she had been such a romping delight!

“Meghan,” he said, closing his pale blue eyes as he brought to mind her lovely face and luscious form.

He’d slipped through the thatched walls of her cottage for he had smelled the need coursing from her tight little virgin cunt. Like a beacon, her need drew him into a dark corner of the dwelling and to her lonely cot where she was writhing beneath the covers, her slender hands on her hot sex.

“Let me,” he’d whispered and then slid into the cot beside her.

He eased aside her hands and rubbed her silken patch of curls, eliciting a low groan from her pretty mouth.

“Shush!” he warned. It would not do for the others in the cottage to hear and come to investigate.

He swirled his hand over and over her mons, pressing the base of his palm hard just above the sweet bud he so ached to taste. When she began arching her hips up to him in sacrifice, he slipped a finger into that hot channel and then had to quickly cover her mouth with his to drown out her moaning gasp.

In and out his finger moved slowly and surely as his tongue slipped past her teeth to swirl around her mouth. Her panting, her trembling built until he twisted his finger around inside her so he could thumb her tight little anus, as well.

Though he could control the span of human time easily—and had to for Mage time was quicker still and Alyx was nearing the completion of what he did so well—he hated to rush this virginal beauty. But he was running out of time and he so wanted to taste her and claim that fragile obstruction within her sheath.

Lightning quick, he mounted her and nudged her thighs far apart. His shaft was huge and she was a tiny thing but need overcame his normal care for his human conquests. He could hear Alyx moaning and time was of the essence.

With one powerful thrust, he broke through the little barricade, caught her pained intake of breath in his mouth and then with lightning strokes brought her quickly to a glorious climax—her very first—and then rode her until his own pleasure had been accomplished. As Alyx strove to get his racing pulse and gasping breath under control, Kynt shot one last creamy burst into Meghan’s well-fucked cunt and then dissolved, leaving the newly-made woman to sigh with utter content.

“I took you better than any fumbling village boy ever could have, Meggie, my love. You’ll remember your spectral lover with a smile,” he said and opened his eyes.

He blinked, blinked again, and his lips parted as two powerful warriors rushed him.

* * * *

MageLord Alyx Caden’s head was pounding with excruciating pain as he walked the long, dark corridor lit sparingly by sputtering torches stuck in brackets on the slick, damp wall. He had been summoned by the new Abbot of Conduct to appear before the Coyrle Smaghtaghey, the Council of Chastisement, and since he knew he’d done nothing wrong, there was only one reason for the command—Kynt was in trouble with the Brothers yet again.

“I don’t need this today,” Alyx muttered through clenched teeth.

Something scurried past the hem of his black robe, bumped into his leg and bounced off. He stopped to look down. A pair of glowing red eyes gazed back at him.

“Many pardons, MageLord,” a tiny little voice apologized.

“No harm done. Is something wrong, Brother Lonnag?” Alyx asked politely.

“These are bad times, my son,” the little mouse man squeaked. He gave a slow shake of his furry gray head. His long whiskers twitched. “Bad things are happening in the community of mages.”

Alyx flinched. “Nothing Kynt helped start I hope.”

Brother Lonnag’s little head tilted to one side and his nose crinkled. “By the grace of the gods, I hope he’s not involved in this mess! He’s in enough trouble as it is.”

A long sigh escaped Alyx. “What did he do now?”

There was a flick of a long, hairless gray tail. “Did you…ah…take matters in hand last eve, my son?”

There in the lowest level of the Drualtys Abbey the temperature was as frigid as an arctic night with a bitter wind rushing up from the bowels of the ancient monastery. The cold made his eyes water but ironically enough helped the debilitating agony clawing at his brain. He put his fingertips to his temples.

“Aye, Brother Lonnag, I did,” he admitted. “But not to work any magic. I just needed the relief.”

Another flick of the mouse man’s tail slapped it against Alyx’s robe. “That is understandable and, of course, quite permissible, but you should be more careful when you pleasure yourself. You know you need to control your Elemental at all times else he will run amok. Sadly, that is the nature of their kind. The Elemental used your lack of attention to take human form and create havoc in the village.”

Alyx squeezed his eyes tightly closed. “Oh, gods. How many this time?”

“Well,” Brother Lonnag said with a twitter, “let’s just say there will be more than a handful of half-human and half-Elemental bratlings born from Kynt’s sneaking around amongst the cottages last night. He cut a remarkable swath through the village, I’m afraid, in the span of time he had in which to do his evil. His exploits will be spoken of for decades to come.”

A miserable groan pushed from the MageLord’s throat. “No wonder the Coyrle Smaghtaghey has been convened. I’m going to wind up extinguishing that stray beam of light.”

Brother Lonnag crept closer, looked about them for prying eyes and eavesdropping ears then lowered his voice. “I am told a Worldly One is arriving this morn so you won’t see any of my kind around for awhile.” He twitched his nose. “Or any of Brother Farrad’s clan, either, for that matter.”

“A Worldly One, eh?” Alyx said, his voice revealing his awe. “Things must be truly bad for one of such importance to journey here.”

“Aye, well things are truly bad. Mage Powers are being lost. Witches and sorcerers and alchemists—all manner of magic-sayers—are being neutralized left and right.” The little mouse man lifted a back leg to scratch at a flea. “Bad times, my son. These are very bad times.”

Alyx watched Brother Lonnag scurry away, claws clicking on the stone as he ran close to the old stone wall. The tiny magic-sayer was one of the oldest inhabitants of Drualtys Abbey. He was well respected for being levelheaded and calm to a fault. If he was worried about the current situation, there was reason to worry.

Pulling the hood of his robe closer to his chilled face, Alyx continued down the corridor, going deeper and deeper underground with every few steps. The temperature was so cold now he could see his breath misting before him and he had to keep his jaws clamped tight to keep his teeth from chattering. His shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robe for his fingers were tingling uncomfortably from the frigid air.

Ahead, he could see a bright patch of light and knew he had reached his destination. The Hall of Chastisement was a hundred yards or so away—in the deepest, darkest part of the Abbey. He glanced briefly at a thick brass studded black wooden door as he passed it and wondered if anyone was in the dungeon. It was a bit early in the morn for such pleasures but he knew there were those who enjoyed a brief sojourn on the rack or at the whipping post before starting their day.

He was not one of them. Physical pain was not something he needed to intensify his sexual releases though he did not condemn those who needed such enhancements.

As he neared the entrance to the Hall of Chastisement, he could feel the faceted eyes of the two guards posted outside watching him. These were not humanoids but harvestmen warriors—deadly efficient spider soldiers who lived beneath the very foundations of the Abbey. They were the blood-sworn protectors of the Brothers of the Wind. The arachnid warriors were proficient swordsmen. To encounter one sent to punish you was to kiss your ass—as well as the rest of you—goodbye.

Alyx inclined his head respectfully to the guards. He had no reason to fear these warriors but nevertheless he was always edgy when in their presence. “Good morn, Harvestmen,” he greeted them.

“Good morn to you, MageLord. The Brothers are expecting you. You may go in,” the guard on the right said in a deep, grating voice that sounded like wind over a dry cornhusk. He shifted his spindly legs. “Your Elemental is already inside.”

Alyx nodded and mumbled his thanks.

The double black oaken doors swung open soundlessly without the benefit of hands to control them and Alyx took a deep, calming breath before entering the dimly-lit hall where grave matters of punishment were decided. The three men sitting on the bench were not known to him and that did not bode well for the only other inhabitant of the room—Kynt.

Alyx barely glanced at his Elemental as he came to stand before the bench. He lowered his head, bent his left knee and sank gracefully to the floor in deference to the three judges. From the corner of his eye he saw Kynt’s aura pulse a deep mustard color and knew his Elemental was ill at-ease and a bit angered at having been brought before the Court.

“Arise, MageLord,” the Abbot of Conduct ordered.

Alyx did as he was commanded and stood with his hands still within the folds of the sleeves of his robe. He kept his attention on the judges, though he could feel Kynt trying to gain his attention with a faint strobe-like rippling of his crystalline aura.

“You have been told what your Elemental was up to last eve?” the Abbot inquired. He was a stark-looking man with a hatchet face, steely gray eyes and eyebrows that drew into wicked little peaks at the center. He was sitting forward with his spindly fingers laced loosely together and resting atop the bench’s pristine black marble surface.

“I have, Father Abbot.”

“And what have you to say in his defense?”

Alyx cut his eyes to Kynt who stood in his incorporeal form—a small, lizard-like flame shimmering in pearly hues like oil on water. Through the undulating colors he could see a strained smile on the Elemental’s face and realized Kynt was trying to look chastened—something impossible for any Elemental to ever be.

The MageLord shifted his attention back to the Abbot. “I can say nothing in his defense, Father Abbot. What he did was wrong and he knows it to be so. I do not condone his wrongdoing and as his ward, I place his fate entirely into your hands and the hands of your fellow judges.”

There was a strangled gasp from Kynt and an uncontrolled flick of his fiery tail.

The Abbot smiled—or rather his thin lips pulled back to reveal a moist pink expanse between them. He leaned back in his chair, hands on the curled arms.

“Spoken like the true politician I am told you are, Alyx Caden.” One tufted eyebrow quirked toward the smoky ceiling. “Do you think such humility will spare you rightful punishment?”

“No Father Abbot, I do not. Kynt Sheidan-Geayee is my responsibility. I am at fault here. I was lax in my control of him last eve and deserve the punishment you hand down.” He lifted his chin. “I stand ready for whatever penalty you deem fit to mete out.”

“A brave young man,” the judge to the left of the Abbot commented. “But I wonder if you will be as courageous when you hear what we propose as your punishment, young MageLord.”

Alyx swung his gaze to the man who had just spoken. Looking to be the oldest of the three, he was as rotund as the Abbot was stick-thin. Without a single hair upon his head or face, the judge’s features looked more porcine than humanoid. In the low light his flesh was a ghastly grayish color that resembled the flesh of a man dead for several days. His striking blue eyes were all the more remarkable without benefit of eyelash or eyebrow to frame them.

“What say you, MageLord?” the pig-like man inquired. “Do you have the pluck to do our bidding?”

“I would pray so, Milord Judge,” Alyx responded since he did not know either the man’s rank or name.

“Might I ask how you came by your Elemental, MageLord?” the same judge queried.

“He befriended me when I was but a toddler, Milord Judge,” Alyx answered. “I had escaped the notice of my Novice Instructor and went exploring on my own. I managed to find my way down here and became lost in the maze of corridors that lead to the ice fields. Kynt found me crying and shivering and manifested as a warm ball of light to lead me home. We have been companions ever since.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong but don’t Elementals of his kind influence human temperament?” Brother Jules asked. “And if that is the case, has your association with him made you a hot-tempered individual, as uncontrollable and unpredictable as his kind are?”

The Abbot raised his hand to forestall Alyx’s answer. He turned to Brother Jules. “Our young MageLord’s temperament runs hot—that is true—but it is his hot blooded nature that is his greatest asset. He is a Druaightagh Commyssey and proficient in his craft. As such, he is well suited for the task to which we will be setting him.”

Alyx didn’t know whether he liked the sound of that but Kynt obviously did for the Elemental had stopped pulsing and was straining toward the judges’ bench, a look of speculation on his wavering face.

“A master of sexual magic, eh?” the pig-like judge said with a grin. “Well-suited, indeed.”

A frown formed on Alyx’s brow. He was suddenly uneasy, for the three judges were staring at him as though he were the main course at a feast. Inside the sleeves of his robe, he clenched his fists, waiting for the pendulum to swing toward him and his fate to be revealed.

“Do you recall how many times you have lain with a female, young MageLord? A rough estimate will do,” Brother Jules said.

Alyx knew precisely the number. “Three hundred and fifty-seven,” he boasted.

Brother Jules gasped. “So many? How can that be?”

“When the Sisters of Farrane come for the annual retreats we share at the Summer and Winter Solstices, they each seek out our MageLord. He has released many a hymen since he turned of age,” the Abbott explained.

“I am duly impressed,” the older joke complimented. “Very well-suited. His expertise will hold us in good stead.”

Alyx squirmed. “What exactly is it I am suited to do, Milord Judges?”

“You have heard of the troubles plaguing the Mage World?” the Abbott asked.

“Brother Lonnag said Mages were losing their powers and all manner of magic-sayers were being neutralized.”

“That is partially true. A rogue alchemist has found a way to drain the powers of the lesser magic-sayers and lessen those of the Mages by cursing them with lhaggid bree.”

“Impotence,” Brother Jules informed Alyx.

“He knows what lhaggid bree is, Brother Jules,” the Abbott snapped.

Brother Jules blushed but continued as though he hadn’t heard the reprimand. “Mages can not function properly without the use of their sexual powers. The lesser magic-sayers can not cast their spells at all.”

“He knows that, too!” the Abbott grumbled.

“With all magic dependent upon sexual energy—either mental or physical—you can see why this alchemist can not be allowed to continue his nefarious plot to become the last magic-sayer left in the WindVerse. He must be stopped and in order to do that, a Worldly One is journeying here and should arrive soon,” the porcine judge stated.

“And with her, the Worldly One is bringing along what she has termed as a greesee keintyssagh, a very powerful aphrodisiac from her homeworld. Once taken, the elixir will make it impossible for the alchemist to spell-bind you with his impotence curse,” the Abbott continued. He turned his head toward Kynt. “I am told you will need the binding influence you share with your Elemental to aid in the counter-magic necessary to put a stop to the mad alchemist’s plot.”

Alyx winced. His one and only experiment in that department with the Elemental had not been what he would consider satisfactory, but he could feel Kynt vibrating with excitement. The waves of sexual energy the Elemental was giving off had elevated the temperature in the room a good ten degrees.

“It will take the uniting of three Essences—you, your Elemental and the greesee keintyssagh combined in a strong sexual union—to defeat Stroieder Bea- Cheintyssagh, the alchemist, to restore potency to the magic-sayers, and thus save the world as we know it,” the Abbott told Alyx. He leaned forward, his gaze intent on the young MageLord. “So what will it be, Alyx? Will you do this for us?”

At that moment the thick black doors swung open and every eye turned toward the portal.

“I am here,” came a waspish voice, then an Elfinish came strutting in, the single tuft of hair atop her otherwise hairless head sticking up like steel spikes. “The day can now be saved.”