The Battered Lamp Chapter Thirty-One: The Strength of the Harem - Sex Stories

The Battered Lamp Chapter Thirty-One: The Strength of the Harem

... Zaritha hurtled through the shattered door in a streak of fire, slamming into a pillar and collapsing in a smoldering heap. Aljihm, his body blackened by fire and cracked by raw fissures, strode out of the smoke, flames dancing about him. The Unbound Ifrit gazed at Kyle's wife with murderous hunger. Kyle commanded the stones, the floors ripping up, forming a wall from floor to ceiling about Aljihm, pressing in to crush the wild Ifrit. The stones began glowing cherry red, heat rolling off in waves as they deformed and began to melt. “We cannot fight him here,” Britney shouted. “It is too confined. He'll roast us.” “Ideas?” Kyle asked her, his lungs raw from the smoke. He commanded more stone to surround the Ifrit, buying them a few more moments. “I'm coming for you, Aaliyah,” cackled the Ifrit. “I want to hear your voice scream as my fire chars your flesh and cracks your bones.” “We should retreat to a location with more tactical advantage,” Britney advised. Kyle grabbed Aaliyah's hand, jerking her behind him as he ran. “Follow me! I have an idea!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Christy cast her spell right before the wall of dust slammed into her and Fumi. The dust hit her shield, rolling around it, plunging them into darkness as they were swallowed. Christy clung to Fumi, fear hammering in her heart. “Such young flesh,” cackled the Jann attacking them. “I do so love them young and unspoiled. Once my daughter is dead, I will be sure to share my affections with the both of ...

... you.” “Ideas?” Fumi asked. Christy wanted to answer, but she kept having to chant the spell, the words rolling out of her lips as she channeled the power of Ishtar. Fumi's arm tightened about her, pulling her in tight against the Japanese woman's body. The green metal inlaid in Windfeather shone, filling their pocket with light. Fumi's all-white eyes seemed to glow emerald in the light. Christy's ears popped as air swirled about them, rustling their silk pantaloons. Then the air exploded from Fumi. Christy shrieked, her brown hair whipped into her face. The dust engulfing them was blown away by the typhoon Fumi had unleashed. Dust pushed down the hallway, falling in clumps on the brown stone. Fatima and the concubines staggered to their feet, coughing and gasping, skin rasped raw by the abrasive dust. “That fucking asshole!” Fatima spat, her cheek oozing blood. Fumi whirled, letting go of Christy. She staggered, falling into the corridor wall and turning to see Fumi's arrow streak down the hallway and strike the old man, his beard stained with rust. The arrow embedded in his shoulder. But the old man's flesh became dust. “You cannot wound the earth,” he cackled. “But you can erode it with wind!” Fumi cried. The arrow detonated into a squall. Dust blew into Christy's face, stinging her eyes with grit. She squeezed them closed, clamping her mouth shut. The wind died, and she spat dirt out of her lips, shuddering when she realized what that dust really was. “Did you kill him?” ...