Erotic Mists (BBW Erotica,Supernatural,WMBW)

Erotic Mists

The
billowing dark clouds blotted out the midday sun, shrouding the tiny monastery in grey shadow. A storm was coming. Fortunately Jan was used to the weather in this northern region and he would be ready for it. To be the only soul at the monastery, he did very well and he knew it. It wasn't that he was full of pride. He’d gotten used to managing things on his own.

When the priests left on their pilgrimage to Helvahr's shrine he had been a lanky and weak boy; too weak to travel. They assured him that all had been taken care of for the cold winter ahead and he would be well provided for while they were gone. He’d been left with the eldest monk, Rolfan who was also too weak to travel and taught him many things before passing on two years later.

It was not a usual thing for all hands at the monastery to pack up and leave, but the high priest insisted upon it. The reason for their departure being that he’d received a vision which demanded the attention of all who worshipped their hermit god. Something important was to be revealed at Helvahr’s shrine temple and all who were able to travel were encouraged to embark on this pilgrimage.  The journey was expected to last for only a few months but four years went by and no one ever returned. Not his brothers or any of the priests who ran the monastery.

Surrounded by snow covered valleys and icy peaks, the temple had been a haven for all who sought respite or sanctuary. Jan could remember a time when every few days, a visitor or traveling pilgrim would stop to take shelter and tell their stories round the warm hearth. He took great pleasure in them, for he had no other means of entertainment. Now no one, not even lost travelers came upon his abode anymore. Only the books of the library kept him company.

Once Rolfan was gone, he’d thought to venture out into the world beyond the mountains; maybe to find out what had happened to everyone, but the warnings always held him back. It was said that only danger and temptation awaited him. According to the high priest, the seclusion of the monastery protected them from all manner of sin and he would do well to remain here.

In a way he was lucky to have such a beautiful home. The monastery was blessed by the gods in its ability to provide crops even in this frigid climate. It was surrounded by fruit trees which yielded apples and pears in the earlier months, and from the plots of fertile soil surrounding the grounds and inner courtyard, sprung a variety of wild vegetables and herbs. The nearby river also teemed with salmon and rainbow trout; all of which graced Jan’s dinner table.

For some time he was
content and never wanted for anything, even though his mind was plagued with unanswered questions. He wanted to know what happened to the others, especially since he would be the only one left. Rolfan’s health had deteriorated rather quickly and there was no sign that he would ever recover. This led Jan to fall into despair.

At night he wept for the old man and his lost brothers, who must have surely found their deaths. What else could have happened? Maybe the vision did not come from Helvahr but from some menacing evil that preyed upon the good. Only one thought gave him comfort: this was some sort of trial and he would be rewarded for his patience. This alone gave him the strength to carry on after the old man passed.

Month after month he toiled away and became lost in his chores. He tended the gardens, swept the grounds and dusted the walls and bookshelves of the forgotten monastery. He would be rewarded for this; someone would come. He repeated those words in his mind like a powerful mantra, until one day someone did come.

Winter was quickly approaching and Jan had just stored away a bountiful harvest for the coming months. Another year had gone by and he expected to be dining alone for the night. Suddenly, a high pitched voice called out from behind the stone walls. The storm’s winds were strong and at first, Jan thought that he was mistaken. It was not until he heard the shout a second time that he ran for the gates to see who it was. He didn’t care who it might be. He was just happy that another soul had ventured to find him. His heart thundered in his chest as he ran through the empty courtyard and finally to the barred wooden gate. He expected to see his long lost brothers waiting outside. It was not them.

This person was a warrior. That much he could tell from the look of the visitor. His stout figure sat upon a white panther which was almost camouflaged against the snowy landscape. The rider was clad in onyx and silver armor and kept a steel War-hammer at his back. The luster of the silver filigree etchings on his breastplate and cuisses glittered in the faint sunlight, and gave him the appearance of a most spectacular deity come to save Jan from the tedium of solitude.

Jan bowed to the warrior and the warrior repeated the gesture out of respect. He wore no helm; instead a thick black shawl masked his face to keep the biting cold winds at bay. Jan stepped closer, but not too close lest he startle the warrior’s beast. He had never seen a panther as big as this one and had only read about them in his books. This one seemed harmless under its master’s weight, but he would take no chances.

“Welcome sir.” he smiled. “How may I be of service?”

In response to his question, the warrior began to pull the shawl away from his face. Jan’s eyes squinted against the armor’s glare to better see the face of his visitor, and as the fabric fell away, he realized that his visitor was really a woman.

He had only seen a few women in his life, but none of them could ever compare to this one. She was lovely. She was of a darker complexion than he was and probably hailed from the southern regions of Cal’Duun or La Bourie. Another thing he’d read about in his books. Apparently this city was populated by dark vixens of an amicable nature and her pretty smile reflected the notion. He reasoned that she was also gifted in the arts of war. Her weapon and the way she donned her armor told the story of a powerful woman who could easily protect herself when put in harm’s way. Her beast was the next clue of this prowess; for not many were able to tame the gigantic beasts of the wild, let alone easily turn them into mounts.

“Good day to you sir! Might I spend the night here? A storm is approaching and I won’t be able to find any shelter for some time.” she said, a light mist floating away from her warm mouth as she spoke.

Her voice was as lovely as her visage; soft and airy as a bird’s song. As she waited for reply, she tucked a few strands of her violet hair behind her ears. She had pinned the locks back with silver clips, but the strong winds were making a mess of them. Still, she was as radiant as the moon goddess and Jan would serve her in any way he could.

He fought the thick lump in his throat and uttered a hoarse, "Of course my lady. You are welcome here."

She smiled sweetly at him and a chill ran through his body and down to his cock, stiffening the normally flaccid organ. For the first time in a long time he felt awake and alive. He held his hand out to help her down and she accepted with another pretty smile. On the ground she was at least a foot and a half shorter than he was, but he found that this minor detail did not take away from her air of majesty.

"Thank you for your kindness sir. It is a rarity to meet a kindhearted soul in these fierce lands."

"No need to thank me lady. It is my duty as a servant of Helvahr. These walls are protected by him and are a safe haven for all."

"Well sir, I am very grateful. You have a beautiful home. I’ve never seen the like. To see trees bearing fruit in this frigid place…spectacular!" she laughed.

"Yes I am blessed. And it’s Jan...please. I am no noble gentleman; just your humble servant, my lady."

"You are indeed a gentleman. More so than many who claim the title. My name is Nyah Velen. I don’t mean to cause you any trouble but Yazra hasn't been fed since yesterday and I would see him taken care of first. Is there anything I can feed him? Meat perhaps?” she asked, as she stroked the panther’s silvery fur.

"I only have salted fish stored inside. I hope that will suffice."

"That will be fine. Many thanks. It seems that we've found our saviour Yazra!" she exclaimed.

The beast looked to his mistress and growled approvingly at her, baring its wide jaw and razor sharp teeth. Jan backed up a little out of fright and probably looked more startled than he’d meant to show, because she giggled at his reaction. She had a lovely lighthearted laugh and it unexpectedly calmed his anxiety.

"Yazra wouldn't hurt you. He can sense a friend in you. I'll take him to the stables if you would point the way."

"O-of course. Right this way." he stuttered, still lost in her beauty.

He led her to the stables which were a few meters away from the courtyard. It was and had always been empty since the others had gone. Still he took care of its upkeep and was glad that he did. It would have reflected badly on him if she was forced to keep her panther in an untidy stall.

Yazra seemed to appreciate the dry space and settled down on all fours against a few bales of hay. Even then he was three feet taller than Jan, but he seemed to be a gentle creature under Nyah’s care. She retrieved one of her satchels from Yazra‘s side and removed her leather gloves to search its contents. While one hand matched the colour of her tawny skin, the other was extremely pale; almost as white as the stone walls of the monastery.

She fished out three gold coins and presented them to Jan with the pale hand. He was too perplexed to say anything, but soon realized that he was being rude.

"I'm a mage.” she explained. “My hand has power over the natural elements. As I grow stronger my hand takes on this ashen colour. Don’t be frightened. It is just the price I pay for pursuing sorcery.”

"O-oh I-I didn't mean to stare." he stuttered, while smoothing back his ruffled brown hair. "I couldn't accept money from you my lady. I have no need for it."

"You are very kind but I insist. I'm sure you can find some use for it…and you can call me Nyah. I am no noblewoman either.” she smiled, as she pressed the cool coins into his palm.

He wasn't surprised at the contrast in temperature of each hand; the pale one was as frigid as the winter air. Still, it was soft and smooth once it came in contact with his hand and caused the hairs on his arm to rise.

He would have gladly stood there with her all night but he needed to calm his mind. The guilt of his attraction was setting in. As a monk, carnal desires were discouraged and frowned upon. Unfortunately what he now felt was beyond his control. He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her until the end of days…but that could never be. What would she want with a poor, lonesome monk? In all her exotic beauty, she could have anyone she wanted and deserved better than him.

He quickly shrugged off his fantasies and led her inside to the warm halls of the monastery. The grounds consisted of a two story stone building; each floor containing four bedrooms overlooking the square courtyard. The first level also housed a large dining hall connected to the storeroom and kitchen, a shrine room with an altar for worship, and a bathhouse on the left wing. Jan had remained in the same room after all these years, even though the others were bare. A few were conveniently located near the dining hall but he refused to lodge in them. He felt that it would be an act of disrespect towards his brothers’ memory.

He gave Nyah the freedom to choose any room she liked, however. After all, her comfort was of the utmost importance to him. She asked where it was that he slept and not knowing what she could be thinking, he led her to his quarters. It was a tiny space fashioned with plain wooden furniture and a bronze chest. His bed was positioned next to the window and a number of books were piled next to it on the stone-grey floor. A bronze candelabra with melted candlewax encrusting its stem, also stood at the foot of the bed and was his only source of light when reading in the darkness of night.