Lament

Windhorn looked off into the forest as he collected wood. He hated it... He missed Prin. He didn’t want to miss her. He didn’t want to miss cuddling her. He didn’t want to miss making love to her. But he did. He wanted to go back to her. He wanted to be her “pet” again. And he hated it. He’d always been proud. He’d always hated taking orders. But here he was, pining for the gnome who would cause him unbearable pain if he didn’t obey. He even kinda missed that. He punched a tree hard enough it fell over.
“Mistress...” He whispered softly into the wind, leaning his head against another tree. “Why did you send me away?” He had thought he wanted away. He’d been thrilled to be free... at first. Now all he wanted was to see her again. To hold her. To pin her below him and suck on those little pink nipples. To lick the juices away from her tiny pussy. To have her order him to fuck her. To happily obey, even though it hurt.
He closed his eyes as his imagination ran wild. He could almost hear her voice. He could almost feel her tongue over his hard cock. His cock twitched as he remembered the way she’d nip the tender flesh of his balls if he didn’t obey fast enough. He mentally chastised himself for all the times he’d begged her not to do it, when honestly, he actually liked it. His hand absently stroked his hard length, thinking of how she’d call him into the tent, where he’d find her completely naked and looking at him wantonly. Her tiny body, dwarfed by his massive frame.
He stroked himself as hard as he could. His mind replaying one of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of times he’d pleasured her. Always bringing her to a mind blowing climax. And always with her ordering him to cum. Even if he hadn’t yet been ready, the spell gave him no choice. He’d cum with an intense orgasm.
Always, as soon as his orgasm has subsided, she’d tell him to cum again, and again, and again... until he’d be so exhausted that he passed out.
Windhorn stroked harder and finally came. He bit down on his bottom lip so not to cry out. His seed splattered to the ground. He panted and whimpered her name, a single tear fell down his face. He’d never see her again.
He gave himself a few minutes to compose himself, then went back to the task at hand. He finally returned with muscular arms loaded full of firewood.
“Collected the entire forest?” Eroth said with a chuckle.
“No, just half of it.” Windhorn mused and flopped down again. He arranged some tinder and arranged stones around the fire pit. He borrowed Marri’s flint stones, which looked comically small in his large hands, and went to work attempting to light the tinder.
Eroth watched highly amused as he beat the stones together, obviously inexperienced at lighting fires.
“Strike. Don’ beat.” Marri said gently
“I am striking.” Windhorn said, continuing to struggle to even get a spark. “Light damn you!”
Marri got up and went to Windhorn. “Strike.” She took the flint stones, and with one glancing strike of the flint, a spark fell into the dry tinder. She blew on it gently and it roared to life. She took more tinder and got a nice little flame going and placed it below a few slightly bigger sticks. “Strike.” She repeated.
“Show off.” Windhorn said with a chuckle. “I would have gotten it eventually.”
“Or ya would ‘ave broken me flint.” Marri said pickingly as she returned to Eroth.
“Or just smash his fingers between the rocks.” Eroth said. “Also an amusing choice.”
“Erot’. Be nice.” Marri said.
Eroth laughed. “I’m always nice.”
Windhorn looked up sharply. “Someone’s coming.” He said softly
“What is coming?” Eroth asked, not looking concerned but inwardly he was preparing to stand and fight. His imp looked around worriedly.
Windhorn took a deep whiff of air. “Death.” He said.
“An undead then?” Eroth asked, calming visibly.
“Yes, an undead.” Said voice from behind them. Standing there was a rogue undead. She had brown hair, pulled back in a bun. Her features were mostly still intact, showing she was once a very beautiful human who died young, some of her grace and beauty still clinging to her as if desperate not to let go despite what she had become. Her lips were a soft purple in color, her eyes were glowing a lovely yellow.
“Everia.” Eroth stood, facing her. He seemed much taller than her, but this was only an illusion. She was actually the same height as he was. But since he’d started traveling with Marri, Eroth had fought the slumping posture natural to the undead. He hadn’t liked needing to crane his neck and Marri having to look down, just so they could look each other in the eye. He stood tall and straight, despite the discomfort it caused. Everia, however slouched, making her look much shorter. “What are you doing here?”Eroth
“The Dark Lady wishes to see you, Eroth. She is displeased.” Everia said.
“Why? I’ve done nothing wrong.” Eroth said.
“You allowed them to live.” Everia said simply.
“Shit.” Eroth said. “How did she find out?”
Everia shrugged. “She has her ways. You know that.” She said. “Go, lest she turn her anger upon you.”
“Erot’?” Marri asked.
“It’s okay, Marri.” He said. “You take Windhorn to town and get him some clothing then go traveling. I’ll catch up. Don’t worry.” He took his pouch of money and gave it to Marri. “There should be plenty.”
“Okay.” Marri said, still sounding worried.
Eroth vanished into the woods, leaving Marri and Windhorn alone.
“Let’s be ‘eadin’ to da Crossroads.” Marri said.
“That sounds fine.” Windhorn said.
The two headed south. Marri was unable to shake the worried feeling about Eroth.