Windrunner X Bane

Stories and legends are spun from something real. A sight that is unbelievable. Lyralei the Windrunner is one blessed with such prowess. Her skill does not come from will or as an enormity, she is blessed by the wind. Always by her side, a companion since she was a small child. Ever since she knocked her first arrow, all have hit their targets with marksman precision. Rather than dazzle the world, she chose a much simpler life, one indebted to her parents who took her in as a baby. They are now aged, and Lyralei cares for them. She brings game from the nearby forest, and water from the many fresh ponds throughout the woods.

She has traversed the forest so many times that she knows everything about the trees and the stones. The rivers and their aquatic inhabitants. Even the avian wildlife, seldom seen on the ground. But yet, every experience is unique for her. No two trails are traversed the same way. This eve, the game is absent from the woods. No deer or fowl to bring home. As if they are scared away by some anomaly. This would not do for her family. She needs to bring home something to put on a plate, and she won’t leave the jungle until she does so.

Like a mirage in the distance, she spots a target. It appears to be a deer, but it resonates a dark hue, almost drawing in the light around it. To get a better shot, she fleetly hops from branch to timber getting the perfect angle. With one brisk jump, she knocks an arrow and makes her mark. The arrow phases through its target, notching in the soil below. Stunned by her own failure, Windrunner tumbles from the tree line and sprains her ankle. She gripes in pain, clenching her leg. Looking at the deer, Lyralei sees two phantom appendages arch forth from its torso.

The elemental turns to Windrunner, striking fear throughout her body. “By the Black Blood of Nyctasha, whose heart burst with fear of me, all shall drown in darkness.” She kicks at the ground, scooting away from the anomaly. “Bane…” She whispers. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment, Windrunner.” Mutters Atropos. Bane approaches the startled archer and extends his two dark hands to Windrunner’s eyes. He strokes downward, sending Lyralei into a deep sleep.

Bane takes a moment to marvel over his sleeping beauty, entranced by the perfection. He jaunts up with his forearm and lifts Windrunner in the air with a telekinetic force. All dreams are different. Some reflect reality through the experiences of the owner. Others draw upon aspirations and imagination. Windrunner’s mind is blank as a slate, ready to be painted by Bane’s will. In her nightmare, she can still feel the sensations her body goes through. Cold fingers stroke over her figure, tantalizing her. The stroking stops, giving her a moment to collect herself.

Raising his arms, Bane channels his power and summons a rift below Windrunner. Appendages reach from the pit and poise, ready to strike. Two arms dive forth and cup her petite breasts, pressing through the clothing as if it is an illusion. Windrunner can feel her breasts pulse. Her heart beats like a drum. In her dream, she sprints into a plane of nothing trying to escape whatever is groping her. The sensations never stop or ease no matter how far she runs. Exhausted, she can feel her real body sweat. Two more appendages join the fray, pressing through their brethren and begin another assault. The pleasure doubles over on Lyralei, forcing her to her knees. She rips through her clothing and gives her bust a look over. Sure enough, nothing is touching her in the dream, but the feelings are sure and true. Other arms now join the fray. Each pair spikes her lust for a good ride higher and higher.

With another jaunt, Bane empowers more of his brethren to follow suit and feast on their prize. Smaller, more tentacle like appendages slither from below. They press on her scarlet lips, eager to sample her maw. Windrunner bites down, but to no avail can still feel her lips gape to the tentacles. Frustrated, she comes to terms that she is at the whim of Atropos. The hands massaging her bosom now pinch her nipples, trying to harvest milk. A light dribble of white cream starts to leak from her chest, running down her figure. Windrunner can feel the milk spurt, but cannot see any sign in her dream. Bane leans in and samples her product, feasting on the extraction. The nectar begins to stream, nurturing Atropos’s desire. Windrunner can feel a heavy pressure in her chest relieve. She lies down and relaxes, falling slave to her own unconsciousness.

The flow dies down to a small trickle, and ceases after a few minutes of milking. More appendages form, ready to taunt Lyralei. Atropos moves from the appetizer to the main course. He ushers a few tentacles from her mouth to her quickly moistening crotch. They dive between her legs and run around her lips, pressing around but never over. They press down and squeeze her nethers, soaking Windrunner’s clothes with her own secretions. The pressure distends her button, exposing it to attack. With haste, more limbs take the privilege of pleasuring Lyralei.

Windrunner buckles in bliss, a meal for Bane. She spasms uncontrollably, her body a dream proxy. More tentacles press into her mouth, and she gladly accepts. Part of her wishes for it to all stop, but the rest of her screams to be violated. One by one, they oblige and crawl inside, filling her canal. They write inside, twisting and pressing against her inner walls. More arms and feelers occupy her body, content with slipping between her elbows and thighs. Those special few who occupy her genitalia do not squander the opportunity. Serving their master, they work her liquids outside for Atropos. No longer content suckling her clothes, he spreads her pants and gives a good drink. Windrunner gasps, her rim gushing with secretions.

With a snap of his fingers, Bane grants her further corruption. Many tentacles jump at the chance to breach her posterior. Windrunner heaves at her own depravation, keen only on more. They slither deep inside her, moving her in all directions. Atropos continues to sate his thirst, prepared to take all she has to give. Her nipples begin to lactate again as her body is loved and caressed. Her backdoor puckers around the tentacles in an attempt to force them deeper inside.

The tentacles desecrating her flower pull out her juices, working them into Bane’s maw. He dismisses the appendages and begins doing the work himself, running his long tongue through her gaping nethers. The tongue presses against her cervix, and it gives way to the aggression. The penetration puts Lyralei into overdrive. Her eyes curl back, and her tongue hangs from her mouth. All in her dream, she wails and recoils at the entrance. Whatever she has left, she releases all at once. A torrent of milk and nectar floods her nethers, pooling inside. Bane withdraws his tongue and siphons every drop. With her release, Windrunner lays down on her ethereal plane to relax. Content with his work, Bane calls off the attack and dismisses the portal. Now conscious, Lyralei lies in her own gaping body. “Sweet dreams dear…” are the last words she hears before falling asleep once more, exhausted from that expenditure.