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Salty Tea I	By : PiddleyFangs Category: +A through F > Fire Emblem (all) > Fire Emblem (all) Views: 4801 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Fire Emblem. No money is made off of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3: Fountain of Corruption

The campaign to bring an end to the scourge of the local risen has birthed an issue. A visit to the infirmary confirms that the terrible creatures had dealt a blow on the group as countless warriors lay weakened on beds, awaiting the healing attention of Maribelle and Libra. These Risen were not just some pointless punching bags to get a few extra notches in one’s belt. These particular undead were proving incredibly powerful and skilled. The warring party of the Shepards was dwindling in size, anyone not a sturdy powerful warrior trimmed off from the group and now resting their heavy heads on mattresses. The cleric who had been with the last attack was one off the wounded, and Maribelle and Libra would be far too busy tending to the broken to be able to attend the next assault. This left only Lissa as a candidate to accompany the warring group in the conflict.
The protests from Maribelle were loud and protective. “What?! Put darling Lissa back on the frontlines?! She is still recovering from that nasty curse, and you want to test her fortitude by facing down some putrid monstrosities? And what if one of them gets to her and we soon find her on a sickbed again?! She’s still not done resting from the last time!” It took a long while, but eventually she was brought down from boiling to simmering, and Frederick fetched Lissa from her (very locked up) tent.
You could mistake Lissa for a completely different person, as she had let some herself go. She hadn't worn her cleric garb in a while, mostly sticking to flowing pajamas. Her hair was a tad bit sweaty, though nothing a quick dunk in a stream with some products couldn’t fix. She seemed a bit hard to get prolonged focus from, and overall distracted by other matters. But when the call back to war came loud and clear, Lissa snapped back to her usual self, and was adorned in the garb of a war cleric, baring her preferred axe and an arrangement of staves to assist her allies is combat. She wore a quirky smirk and cute perky eyes. Maribelle was convinced of her health, and sought out to honor Lissa’s wishes of being treated a shade less fragile than most vases. With a kiss on the forehead blushing Lissa’s cheeks as red as cherries, she was granted blessings and approved to be sent off to the battle.
The marching towards the combat area was a stern silent march. While normally such frivolous campaigns spawned plenty of light hearted banter and foolery, for once every soul was a quiet one. They’ve seen the wounds, they’ve felt the burning in their gut to return the favor to the foes who had given them such harsh terrors. Horses clapped against the grass, kicking dirt up whenever their speeds fired up. Heavy armor clacked heavily against the bodies of the marching soldiers. Lissa blushed quietly, trying to cover her cheeks and mouth with one hand to hide the flushing feelings that were stuffing her head up.
She had never felt this way during combat for sure. It was for sure unrelated, for Lissa was never turned on by the prospect of fighting some powerful foes who had dealt blows to friend previously, or hell she was never turned on by combat! This was a heat carried over, a burning desire to huddle down on her knees and give in that was brought with her from the pleasures she had back in her own tent. Her thighs ached for the privacy of the tent, her fingers curled with a lingering desire to be wetted with the fluids of her pillage. She gasped aloud, stirring a bit of a worry from those nearby, many still concerned she may not be well enough yet for combat. Lissa puffed her cheeks, and stomped her boots, insisting, “I’m fine, I’m fine! I can handle this, just… You know how I hate all this marching around!”
Combat commenced with the archers spotting moving masses down the hill the company had surmounted. Bellowing out a wreaking war cry, the quickly advancing undead sprawled forward, wielding ancient axes, and twitchingly lifting their shields to block the incoming blow of a curtain of arrows. Gripping their lances and drawing their swords, the front lines advanced, grasping their weapons and clashing them down against the forms of their horrid enemies. Lissa kept to a sideline of the fronts, standing safely away from the immediate combat. She held her axe halfheartedly, and kept her staff nearby in case some damaged ally came for help.
The immediate strategy was prevailing, just as the tactician had intended. The archers were safeguarding either escape route, and the frontlines were pressing forward to push the foes away, creating a safe bubble where Lissa would be able to lie in wait to assist the wounded. Frederick rode bravely back to Lissa, presenting his shoulder wounds to her. The girl had to be drawn away from some distractor that occupied her hands for a short time a ways up her skirt. She insisted it was a snag. She lifted her staff, and healed him just as well as any other time, and his gaping wounds were made no more. He nodded sternly, gave her some brief appraisal on her work getting back onto the field, and rode back into the lines to act out his duties. Lissa was never so thankful for the seclusion.
She turned either way, her required spacing leaving her little privacy to make her damned writhing loins be settled! It felt like a boiling pot, a seething froth of irritating hot stirring. Her loins dotted her thighs with sudden drops of her honey, leaving her inner thighs soaked over the course of the battle. Her certainty it was not sweat was confirmed by her sneaking a lick and blushing her cheeks a thousand shades darker. Her breasts had never been so imbued with tingling, and never before had she even considered such a desire to pinch at her tips, but this was a time for many firsts. For the first time, she considered abandoning the war party for the sake of privacy.
She turned her head either way like a nervous maiden considering entering her first pub. Wide eyed and cutely blushed, she slowly started to step back a bit. Stahl rode up her way, and presented a wound. Lissa was fast to heal him, and haste-fully sent him back, not even considering a momentary chat. She at least had the excuse the war effort needed him, for the battle was only about half won thus far. Lissa apologized under her breath, and escaped from the area to the nearby thicket of trees. It was a tiny island of forested region, but it was enough to grant Lissa some decent privacy.

Lissa landed on her rear upon the grass of the shrouded area. Gasping with glassy breath, and tearing through her clothes until she was bare, she rose her naked body to stand and regard her form. She felt her fingers slide over her pale thighs, regarding the petite formation of her hips, the slim waist, thin tummy, and nearly flat chest with just enough weight to her breasts for there to be something to jiggle ever so lightly. She never felt such an ego to her form, but now more than ever she felt it entirely necessary to absorb and enjoy the feminine form. Her evaluating digit was already plowing past her folds straight through her light pink folds. She knew containing her moans would be required. Her task was to finish her session, and while riding the few precious seconds of silence, rush back and finish her duties to the army. Excuses though! She needed at least one! Had to think of a good reason wh- Oh gods why does it feel so good? Her head shot blank. Now a single thought that didn’t contribute to her work. She plowed a second finger, even a third. It wasn’t enough though; it was just something about the angle. It got her wetter than ever, it was enough to make her let loose and let a little moans slip out, but it wasn’t enough! Her staff on the other hand…
Lissa burrowed the holy orb at the tip of her staff into the dirt of the ground. She looked either way, her tongue sticking out, her eyes glassy and considering her environment like a foolish horny animal. She gripped the staff, spreading her legs to position herself over it, straddling her loins around it. She felt her lower lips spread around the staff. She thrust up and down against the golden rod, riding it up and down, sanding the surface until she slickened it and settled her nethers at the tip. She blinked, and for one succulent second considered sanity. She thought if this was right, went by the concept she might not be able to handle the intensity that may follow. She thought- She stopped all thought and plowed herself upon it. She never felt anything so incredible. She screamed in spittle spewing pleasure.
She flexes her lithe stomach, and rocks and stirs her hips against the rod that pierced into her. Thighs rode against either side of the rod, keeping herself positioned. Her bare feet touched the ground, her toes curling into the grass. Her knees rode up and down, up and down, riding against the staff with a fast bouncing motion. She stiffed her lips, and jammed shut her eyes. She couldn’t summon any more moans at one point, she couldn’t hold back for much longer. She rode faster and faster, her hips bucking, her knees shooting into the air and crashing her body against it.
This is, she knew it was coming. She grabbed the staff, ripped it from the earth, her legs betraying her by not keeping a good tempo. She threw her back onto the ground, slamming herself with the urgency her loins commanded. She used one hand to slam into her as fast as she could. She couldn’t imagine the speed picking up much more with her current pace. She even considered seeing if the healing orb would fit inside, but she was too thick into it now to dedicate to a new direction. Her free hand gripped at her clit, finding the eager little bud at a new thickness, a new length. Little fella must be more excited than ever. She knew she was. With a sturdy pinch to her clit, and one more thrust worthy of shattering boulders, her body exploded with the worst orgasm to quake her body yet. She collapsed, drooling, and passing out of consciousness for a few more minutes.
She awoke a little later, crawling to her clothing, trying to apply it all back onto her body. Using her staff as a walking cane, albeit an extra slippery one, she walked back to the army, catching a lucky break in that the battle was just ending, and no one ever caught on to Lissa escaping. Save for Frederick, but he was easily seduced to another opinion. Lissa drew a little line on his armored chest, insisting this needn’t be mentioned, and with some luck he complied. Lissa was getting quite skilled at getting away with things with Frederick.
They returned to camp, and Lissa returned to her tent. The army reported mysterious moans kept many a well eared soldier awake. They couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from, but for certain no one blamed innocent Lissa. Though, they were not the only ones unaware of what secrets were emerging, as Lissa herself was not done facing down the path of lusts quite yet.
…
Camp was all the seclusion Lissa needed. All the privacy she could ever desire was the ever growingly complex routine to her now required masturbation habit. Starting out after the incident with her staff, she has been at least sinking her fingers into her at least twice a day. First come morning, and then come night. Though, how deep into the night grew ever more complex, and ever later. She quickly discovered that her moans being too frequently at the same time really helped to alert her camp mates to the events. So in the end, the tactic was to wait until even Panne was at last resting, and then rock her folds as hard as she could. She by now has fashioned broken staves to serve as the perfect makeshift dildos; something about such a holy staff being repurposed for pleasing her taint was an incredible additional kink to her every session.
With her schedule, the only real difficulties that ever truly occurred was the random bursts of intense lust, or something arousing her more than she figures it should. Such as the way Panne stretches, or maybe how Nowi jumps, or just Tharja in general. Perhaps the worst, was the way Maribelle worked her mouth.
That thick set of lips curled and moistened with unnoticed freshening by Maribelle’s stealthy tongue. She was at all times woman like without even a tint of effort that showed. And that for sure brought some tension to her surface. She was repressed, and never truly cut loose to the degree Lissa would adore to see her. Her lips spread open widest either when she yelled, or when appraising some tea. Lissa found plenty of excuses to argue about tea. “No no no! Sweety, honey just does not go with that blend, it completely overshadows the fresh fruit tang to it!” Lissa really liked how her mouth curled with honey, but so few times did honey piss Maribelle off, so Lissa really harped about the one brew Maribelle swore could never work with honey. That brew was quickly becoming a sore spot, so Lissa couldn’t exploit this for long, and certainly it’s not as if she could rub one off right there. This usually just leads to a third session anyways, and she knew this just was not healthy. But, H-o-ney. Honey
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Salty Tea I

Chapter 3: Fountain of Corruption