by Rainman1131 » Wed Jan 30, 2013 9:26 pm

Chapter One: In the Land of Giants


Conan stumbled drunkenly to his bed chamber, the night's revelry having at last taken it's toll on his mighty frame and rugged constitution. His chamber was a simple affair, being not much more than a small storage hold on the giant ship, yet it was more than adequate for one such as he. With clumsy, random fumblings, he stripped himself down to his breech clout, careless of all save the placement of his mighty broadsword - which he put beside his bed at his right hand. He then fell face-first onto the multi-folded, purple robe that served as his bed, and drifted at once into a heavy, besotted sleep.

Dreams came to him then, as they had nearly every night since he'd come to this strange land. The images that raced through Conan's slumbering mind were hazy, disjointed things - pictures of a nightmarish, alien world the like of which the bold, far-venturing Cimmerian had never imagined. He saw himself at the helm of a mighty ship, fighting at the wheel as a storm raged about him, tossing the great ship as though it were no more than a child's toy caught up in the ripples of a pond. Amid the frenzied shouts of his men, he strove to keep her bow into the wind. Then his ship was gone, all his crew with her, and he found himself tossed about in churning, mountainous seas, clinging for life to a jumble of wooden timbers that were all that remained of his once-mighty vessel.

Conan knew a period of senseless drifting then, where he was only vaguely aware of his body, as he clung mindlessly to the rolling timbers. Presently, he felt himself lifted from the water, and placed roughly on a hard, wooden surface. The steady rocking under his back told him he was once again on board a ship, though his disorientation and fatigue were great, and he found neither the desire or the strength to open his eyes. There was the dull, echoing sound of rough laughter all about him, and a distant part of his mind bristled at the clear ridicule in those harsh voices. There was something wrong with the timbre of that laughter, he knew, even in his delirium; it seemed too loud to issue from the throats of mortal men. He smiled a little then, even in his stupor, imaging that this was his death and that he was now hearing the mocking laughter of the gods.

When at last he managed to open his eyes, Conan thought his guess right. The figures gathered about him on the rolling deck did, indeed, seem to tower, godlike, above him. He didn't know if it was a trick of perspective or delirium, with him sprawled on the deck and they looming above him, but these beings seemed to be four times his own height. They dressed in the fashion of corsairs, clothed in leather and light chain mail, and heavily armed with broadswords, axes, and doubtless, lethal dirks and daggers secreted on their persons. If pirates envisioned gods, Conan's mind had mused muddily, then surely these beings were the embodiment of that vision.

After a time, amid the harsh, derisive chiding, Conan, heard a lilting, somewhat higher-pitched laughter from far above him. His hazy gaze drifted toward the sound, and he rolled his head lazily on the deck until he saw a huge, widespread pair of high-laced, black leather boots. He was too weak to move his head further, so he rolled his gaze upward past the tall boots, and up to a slim, well-formed pair of legs that were clad in black leather breeches. Conan strained to look upward higher still, following the smooth line of the long legs that melded into flaring hips and a narrow waist. The matching, black leather jerkin covered the torso of the giant being, and Conan saw the sumptuous swell of great breasts inside the bodice of the garment. He managed to twist his head up just slightly, enough so that he was able to see a beautiful, high-cheeked face looking down at him. The harsh sea breeze whipped around the thick mane of night-black hair that framed the incredible, giant face, and the large, dark eyes sparkled with eldrich mischief.

"It is a pretty thing," said the giantess, laughter in her voice still as she looked down with delight. "Perhaps I shall give him to my niece as a present."

The raucous laughter of the surrounding titans rang like thunder in Conan's ears, and he felt his mind drifting, as though becoming detached from its moorings. The last thing he saw was the huge, wavering image of the startlingly lovely, smiling face.

Conan awoke suddenly, his senses instantly alert. He'd been deep in a drunken slumber, yet he had sprung into full wakefulness, quick as a panther. The quick reflexes and instinctive readiness of the barbarian had always served him well, saving his neck many times before. He rolled smoothly to his right, reaching for his sword, and...

His sword was gone.

He opened his eyes to the sound of gentle, mocking laughter.

"Looking for this?"

Conan shook his head, then muttered a curse. "Can't a man get some sleep on this damnable barge?"

The woman laughed again, holding Conan's broadsword between her thumb and forefinger, making it appear tiny as a child's toy. "I saw that you had drunk even more freely than usual tonight, Conan. I thought to follow you and catch you off your guard." She twiddled with the sword playfully in her fingers, cutting the air with tiny, pretend thrusts. She grinned down at Conan. "I see that I have succeeded."

Conan grunted, then tossed a fold of the thick, purple cloth over his head. "Go away, Valeria. Is it not enough that my head pounds with that poison you and your monstrous ilk call ale? Leave me be, woman."

The giantess sat on the floor of the small chamber, her back against the wall opposite Conan's bed, her heels drawn back to her buttocks and her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees. It was as comfortable a position as she could manage in Conan's tiny quarters, and still she took up most of the room that Conan's bed did not. She reached down to tug away the flap of the spread with which Conan had just covered himself. "Now, that's not very polite. Are women always treated so poorly in your bed chamber."

Conan opened an eye, regarding the giantess with disdain. "I am not unused to women in my bed chamber. As a custom, though, I prefer such women be invited."

Valeria laughed. "Silly Conan. It's my ship. I'm always invited."

The brawny Cimmerian grunted. He turned to go back to sleep, then stopped, opening both eyes now. "What is that you wear, Valeria?"

The dark-haired giantess laughed, raising her hands and looking at herself. "As you see." Valeria's more than twenty-foot-tall form was clad in a swath of nearly transparent, white silk, the filmy garment gathered lightly about her hips and chest. Her arms and legs were bare, the smooth, alabaster skin almost glowing in the dim light of the tiny room. She smirked down at Conan. "What troubles you about my attire, Conan? Had you thought that I slept in my battle garments, that I took to bed in black leather and chain mail?"

Conan grunted again, then turned his face into the purple spread. "In truth," he muttered into the thick cloth, "I had not given any thought at all to the manner of your dress when you slumbered."

"Ha!" The giantess laughed again. "Liar! Do you think me unaware of your secret glances, Conan? You are a man, after all, and cannot hide your ardor. Of course, it is only in the heat of battle that you will allow yourself to really look at me. When we fight side by side, you cast clandestine gazes up at the curve of my thigh, at the flare of my hips. Many's the time, when we've been crouched low at the rail and waiting to attack, that I've caught you slobbering at the sight of my breasts at the top of my jerkin." Valeria laughed again, making playful, suggestive thrusts with Conan's small sword. "In truth, ever since you came to our land, Conan, you have thought of little else but me." 

Conan had to smile a little himself at that. "Why do you jest so, Valeria? Have you had even more drink than I on this night? We are from two, separate races, you and I. Such a coupling as you suggest is neither seemly, nor even possible as I reckon it. Go off to your cabin, woman, and sleep this drunk off, and let me do the same."

Valeria smiled, patting the flat of the little sword thoughtfully on her bare forearm. "Conan, you have said many a time, and proudly, that you are a barbarian and that you scoff at 'civilized' peoples and all their silly politics and intrigues. You pose as the simple barbarian, deriding intellect and civilization, and espousing only blood-thirsty battle in pursuit of whatever booty is yours to take. Yet, I see a fierce intelligence beneath that brutish mien, and I cannot believe that such a mind is without imagination." 

Valeria's dark, smoldering gaze pierced into Conan's soul. "Surely," she said, trying to make her large voice soft and small, "we can find a way that is pleasing to us both."

Conan blinked and sat up a little in his bed, feeling like his fuzzy head was beginning to clear a bit. "Woman," he said, shaking his head in stunned wonder, "have you lost your senses?"

Valeria laughed again, then reached down to tug away the spread, exposing Conan's nearly naked form. "No, I don't believe I have. And I am also not going to take no for an answer."

"Take care, woman," Conan growled, springing up into a crouch on his bed, with his back against the wall. And still, even seated, Valeria towered above him. "You have seen me in battle. Many of your kind, giants though they were, have perished in bloody agony at the sweep of my sword!"

Valeria nodded seriously. "Oh, this I know, great Conan, you who was once a king in your own, tiny lands. And here, by your prowess with the sword, you have taken many of the fingers and eyes - aye, and the lives - of those foolish enough to view your size as a weakness. But, look." The dark-maned giantess shrugged apologetically, and twiddled the miniature sword in her fingers. "I seem to have your mighty sword right here, great king."

Conan flexed his iron thews, and glared up at his captress. "Having seen me in battle, then," the barbarian said with a hard grin, "you surely know that I am no less dangerous when armed like this."

"Yes, this I also know," Valeria said, as she flicked the sword negligently from her fingers, sending it end-over-end in a whistling arc across the room. It stabbed deep into the rough wood far above Conan's head with a solid thock!, then vibrated in place for several seconds before falling still. "But unlike your foes in battle, Conan, I do not make the mistake of under-estimating you." With that said, Valerie snaked her long, bare arm down suddenly, taking nearly the whole of Conan's arm in her fist and squeezing it tightly.

"By Crom!" shouted Conan, pulling against the powerful grip and bringing his free arm around to grasp at the giant fingers. "Unhand me, woman! I shall not tell you again!"

"As I said, Conan," Valeria said, a strain in her voice, as she continued to hold the small barbarian's bulging, densely-muscled arm. "I do not take your strength lightly, as have other's of my kind. Still..." The giantess grunted with effort, reaching down her other hand and grappling with the small, powerful hand that was prying mightily at her own fingers. "...I know that my strength is much greater than yours, and I shall not be denied on this night!"

Conan fought valiantly against the powerful, yet oddly soft hands that assaulted him. His trapped arm was of no use, but he had one of Valeria's fingers gripped in his free hand. He wrenched at the huge digit with all his strength, succeeding only in lifting one of Valeria's fingers upward slightly off of his arm. The small victory was short-lived, as Valerie's other hand came down, quickly over-powering his smaller grip, and pulling that hand and arm off to his other side. Before he knew it, Conan was pinioned helplessly, with Valeria's hands spreading away so that each of Conan's imprisoned arms was stretched straight out from his sides.

For several moments, Conan struggled in Valeria's grip, twisting his torso futilely back and forth, and pushing up with his legs to try to get some sort of leverage. He made no headway at all, his struggles serving only to tire him further, as he had already been in a fatigued state from his surfeit of drink. As he slumped in frustrated fury in the grip of Valeria's mighty hands, he found himself further galled by the realization that the palms that enclosed his arms so relentlessly, were as pliant and smoothly feminine as softly-tanned calfskin.

Valeria, with the firm muscles of her face and arms showing the thrumming strain of holding Conan at bay, managed a tight grin. "You see, Conan," she said, her breathing a bit heavy now, "I...I don't under-estimate you, my king, but..." Valeria's smile held triumph, yes, but also something that may have been affection. "But am stronger than you, and I mean to take you now, here on your tiny bed." She grinned more broadly, struggling only slightly now against Conan's diminishing struggles. "I should not, in any case, allow myself any guilt for my conquest of you, for such is not in my nature. Yet, my heart is much gladdened to know, by the looks you have given me, and, see...the look that you give me even now, that such an anticipated union pleases you, as well. Conan, stop being stubborn. Will you not accept this great bounty that I offer you?"

Conan just glared up at the giantess, his breathing even more ragged than hers.

Valeria looked pointedly at Conan's breech clout, and grinned. "That bulge in your clout is answer enough."

Conan closed his eyes, sighing heavily. When he opened them again, his blazing, blue-irised gaze struck up at Valeria fiercely, and his thick lips curled into a nearly-invisible smile. "Alright...alright, girl, you have...you have worn me down." He glanced at the huge hands that still gripped his arms, then looked back up at the giantess. "I...I am at a bit of loss as to how this will get done, Valeria, but I'm certain that I shall need the use of my arms to make a proper attempt of it."

"As you say," the dark-haired giantess purred, as she let loose of Conan's arms, "my king."

Chapter Two: Conan Courts a Queen


"Am I so different from the women of your world?" Valeria asked, her breath gusting warmly into Conan's face, and swirling his thick, black mane about his head.

Conan shook his head. "Not so different. Though my countrywomen would appear to you, I suppose, as soft and helpless dolls, perhaps suited to serve as toys for your niece."

Valerie laughed, seeming delighted with the thought. "Oh, Conan! I should like to journey to your tiny land and see such soft beauties! I would scoop up as many of the little darlings as I could carry, and take them back as pretty presents for my beloved Danae!"

The dark-haired giantess had lain down upon the floor of Conan's bed chamber, her fifteen-cubit-long form stretching across the whole length of the room, her knees bent a little because she was too big to fit otherwise. She lay on her side, her chin in her hand and her other arm curled around behind Conan's bed.

Conan had stood up on his makeshift bed, so that the breech-clouted barbarian actually had to look down into Valeria's giant face. He now knelt in front of the giantess to get more on a level with her, and skimmed a hank of her thick, ebony hair from her brow and into his hand, feeling its soft fullness against the hard-calloused skin of his palm. He gripped her hair tightly and gave it a hard tug, glaring at the giantess with hard, blue eyes. "I said that the women of my land might seem as dolls to you, Valeria. I did not say I would allow you to enslave them."

"Oh, Conan!" Valeria cried, moving forward a bit, so that her forehead rubbed lightly against the back of Conan's hand. "You take my jests too much to heart! I mean no harm to your people. And it goes without saying, my king," the giantess said softly, leaning in again, this time nuzzling her cheek up against Conan's bare side, "that what I plan for you this night can in no way be described as harm." 

"We shall see," said Conan with a cynical sneer, as he ran his hand down the thick hank of her hair, stopping when he'd reached Valeria's scalp. He re-gripped the handful of hair there, and tugged back on it again so that he was just able to move her head up, just enough so that he could look directly into her eyes. "As for myself, I have not lain with a woman of your proportions, Valeria, and it would seem that a bit of harm is a distinct possibility."

"Conan!" the giantess said laughingly, nuzzling her face once again into the barbarian's hard-muscled body. "Surely you do not fear me! Were we pitted against each other in battle, you would have already sought out and found my weaknesses, and even now be near to slaying me with your mighty sword!"

"True," Conan said, as he began to lightly stroke Valeria's great, black-maned head. He gestured at his sword where it was impaled on the wall above his head. "Although, it seems, my weapon is out of reach at the moment."

Valeria sighed, closing her eyes against Conan's gentle stroking. "I know not the courting habits of your strange, tiny people, Conan, but I dare say that you do not require swords in the bedroom."

Conan's smile was small and grim. "You may think of the women of my world as helpless dolls, Valeria - and, indeed, I have given you cause to think it so - yet there are certain females of my species that a man should not approach without full armor, a heavy sword and a stout heart!"

Valeria opened her eyes, twisting her head around to give Conan a lingering kiss on his hard belly. "I like to hear you talk of your people in such a way, Conan. Your fierce pride in them is clear. I would be pleased to journey with you to your faraway land, and meet such a brave and proud people."

"Maybe one day I will take you," Conan said, patting her giant head. "Though I suspect, Valeria, that you still intend to collect some dolls as you tour among my 'brave and proud people'."

Valeria smiled a guilty smile. "Conan, surely you would not deny my sweet Danae at least one tiny pet?"

Conan found that he liked the feel of Valeria's lips on his mid-section, so that now he leaned himself into her face, eliciting another kiss about his middle. Placing a palm to Valeria's wide, smooth cheek, he said, "Perhaps just one, Valeria. If we are able to find a maiden willing to fill such a role, that is."

"Good," Valeria said, as she brought a hand in behind Conan, cupping his back in her palm. "Now, show me how you kiss those tiny maidens of yours."

Conan wasted no time in complying with Valeria's request. He leaned in close, placing a hard kiss at the center of her mouth, reaching his arms as far around the back of her great head as he could go, and pulling her face into his upper body. The great size of her soft, thick lips was a wonder to his overwhelmed mind, and Conan found that he had to strive to remind himself that this was merely a woman, a woman no different than the countless others he had kissed, save for the matter of scale. Thus heartened, he pressed on, mashing his whole face into Valeria's warm, moist lips with a savage gusto that would have reduced an ordinary woman into a knee-buckling, senseless swoon.

After kissing at Valeria's great lips savagely for several moments, Conan at last pulled away, breathing a bit raggedly, but grinning a hard, satisfied grin. He sneered haughtily into the face of the giantess. "What say you, Valeria? Have any men of your world kissed you with such manly ardor? Do any of the males among your monstrous ilk match the amorous zeal of a Cimmerian?"

Valeria gave him a small smile, and her tongue came out to lick at his taste on her lips. She shook her head. "No, my king. Never have I felt the like of a kiss such as yours."

Conan's grin broadened. "So say you?"

Valeria nodded her great head. "For your size, your ardor is unmatched. And your kisses..." Valeria sighed, closing her eyes as her fingers, still cupped around Conan's back, gave his body a gentle squeeze. She opened her eyes. "...your kisses were so gentle and sweet, that I feared that I might swoon at the delicate touch of your tiny lips on mine."

Conan stared at the giantess in stunned confusion. Then he quickly rose from his knees, shrugging out of Valeria's great fingers - the action requiring no small effort on his part. He stood once again on his bed blanket, staring down into Valeria's giant face, and trying to gauge her intent. Was she making sport of him? He did not know. The look in her large dark eyes was questioning - perhaps even hinting at mild amusement - but Conan did not get the sense that Valeria had intended to ridicule him.

Conan felt something like shame begin to rise in him then. Quickly quelling this unwanted and little known emotion, he stared down at Valeria. "I am gladdened that my gentle touch pleases you. Now you will please me, Valeria. Take off your garment, that I may better see your form."

"Gladly, my king."

Valeria straightened up so that she was in a seated position, with her back against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her. She now towered above Conan once again. Leaning forward a bit, she gave a subtle tug at the shoulder of her garment, and the silky wrapping slipped slowly down her body, fully revealing the generous curves that had been only slightly hidden beneath the gossamer fabric. The silken swath pooled about her waist like a snowy blanket, momentarily hiding the soft lines of her smoothly-curving hips and thighs. This concealment was short-lived, however, as Valeria rolled side to side on her bottom and casually unwound the wrap from about her hips, tossing it carelessly to the far side of the chamber. She leaned back against the wall and grinned. "Does my form please you, Conan?"

"It...it pleases me, Valeria." Conan's voice felt suddenly thick. "By Crom, any man who was not pleased by the sight of you must surely be addle-minded or, more likely, dead!"

Valeria laughed, and the thunderous, feminine giggles filled the small chamber. "Now that pleases me."

And Conan's avid gaze did take in the whole of Valeria's splendid female figure. Yet, even with the sumptuous bounty of this grand body that lay before him, Conan's first glance was at the beatific face that looked down upon him. There was a soft, gentle aspect to the pirate queen's features, belying the oft-times vicious mien she took on in the heat of battle. It was a face that Conan would have thought almost too delicate to touch, had she been a woman of his own size. Their kiss, however, had removed all thought of such untouchable daintiness. Valeria, it seemed, was more than able to withstand the force of his own considerable ardor, and Conan was even beginning to wonder if he would have to go to super-human efforts if he were to properly please her. He vowed that he would give such efforts as were required of him, momentarily amused at himself for feeling the steely resolve he normally knew only in battle.

Valeria's gently rounded shoulders melded into strong, supple arms that were longer than Conan was tall. Her upper arms, always clad in golden, snake-shaped armlets in battle, where now bare and unadorned, their smoothly-muscled bulk more than a match in size and strength to one of Conan's own, brawny legs. The slim, long-fingered hands, he knew from recent experience, were powerful enough to hold his own whole arm at bay with only a small strain of effort. Valeria's alabaster torso was an equally daunting sight, from a flat belly that looked tight as a hide drawn over a drum, to high, dark-nippled breasts that greeted him pleasantly near to his current eye level. Their generous swell made Conan's eyes grow wide, and he nearly let loose a bark of giddy, uncharacteristic laughter, as he thought of the tiny tits of his countrywomen, remembering them now as insignificant little handfuls of flesh cupped in his hands. 

Conan's gaze was drawn down to the smooth swell of Valeria's hips, and the lightly-furred pubis that surmounted her womanly cleft. He stared in unabashed fascination at the her huge womanhood, seeing that the thing was not at all dissimilar to that same bit of anatomy possessed by his countrywomen, identical in everything but scale. The sight of the now-naked giantess had been been steadily increasing Conan's arousal, her pleasing form awakening his loins in a way that he had not experienced since he'd been marooned in this monstrous land. But it was this first glimpse of her glorious womanhood that truly awakened Conan's long-slumbering manhood. It moved inside his breech clout now, bulking against the loose cloth with a less-than-subtle insistence, sensing nearby that warm, moist place where it must surely go.

At length, Conan was able tear away his gaze, training his eyes instead on Valeria's long, well-formed legs, his mind finding their subtle curves pleasing in much the same way that his brute manhood found Valeria's giant slit to its liking. He took in the sensuous allure of legs twice as tall as himself, noting the full, long-muscled thighs and the delicate puckers of loose-skinned knee caps that were the size of banquet serving plates. The smooth lines of her tautly-muscled legs were rendered in giant, white marble perfection, from the tips of her up-pointing toes, to the tops of her bountiful thighs; though his unthinking manhood strained only for the unseen, titanic cleft, Conan's thinking mind showed it that such a rude organ was not the only allure to be found here. His manhood responded at once to its master's appreciation of Valeria's form, swelling up with new zeal, and filling taut the fabric of the straining breech clout. 

Conan was brought back to himself by the sound of Valeria's gentle laughter. "You look at me as though you would devour me whole, Conan. Has separation from the women of your kind made you hunger so for feminine flesh?"

Conan nodded dumbly, still regarding her splendid form with amazement. He found himself at a loss for words, and even less common, at a loss for action.

The giantess smiled down at him, and, seeming to read his mind, said, "Do not worry, Conan. There is naught that you will have to do in this undertaking. I shall take the lead in our love making."

The bold Cimmerian at last found his tongue, as he bristled at Valeria's presumption. "Now see here, girl," he growled, spreading his legs in a defiant stance," I have agreed to this coupling, because it pleases me to do so. But I shall not have a woman serve as my master, neither on the battlefield nor in the bed chamber." 

Valeria laughed, clapping her hands together in delight. "Oh, Conan! I know not if it is your pleasing form, or your bold spirit with enthralls me more! I bless the fortuitous storm that brought you to me! The gods have given me the greatest prize I can imagine!"

"Still thy impudent tongue, girl," Conan said, his voice low with menace, "I shall not ask you again."

"Conan, sweet, Conan," Valeria said, with reproving clucks of her tongue, as though addressing a small child, "don't you see that such resistance on your part only stokes my amorous fires?" The giantess writhed a little on the floor then, as her hand dropped into her naked lap, and her legs squeezed together to close on it. Conan watched in numb silence as Valeria's giant hand slid slowly between her great thighs, rubbing insistently up against her prodigious womanhood. She looked over to find Conan watching her. She gave him a sly smirk, and said, "Well it is for you to watch, 'my king', for soon your hard body shall take the place of my hand."

"That is enough, Valeria!" Conan thundered, his anger over-taking him, "I will not allow-"

"Indeed, it is enough," the giantess said then, quickly reaching out both hands, and encircling her long fingers about Conan's middle and lifting him up off the floor. "I have been very patient with you, Conan. But my patience is at an end, and I will have you now!"

"By Crom, unhand me, woman!" Conan bellowed as he was lifted high into the air and brought up, struggling wildly, before Valeria's large face. "This is unseemly, and I shall not allow it! A man is not treated in such a way in the bed chamber!"

"I shall treat you..." Valeria said, as she struggled a bit to hold the furious Cimmerian, "...in whatever way I choose, Conan. You are..." Her breathing had begun to hitch a bit as she tried to control Conan's wild struggles. "...you are mine now, and I will not be denied!"

"You dare not handle me so!" Conan raged, plying his mighty hands against the grip of Valeria's fingers about his middle. Yet try though he might, even his iron grip could not budge the giant fingers even a fraction. Conan continued to grapple with Valeria's fingers just the same, gripping and re-gripping to try to find better purchase. But it was all for naught, and soon he was reduced to just pounding down at her enclosing fingers in frustration. He kicked his iron-thewed legs beneath her surrounding fists, but this brought him no closer to freedom, either. He let out a frustrated bellow. "Let me go, foul woman! Let me go, I say!"

"My, but you are a handful!" Valeria exclaimed, as she struggled to hold Conan in place before her. "It is well that I...that I do not under-estimate you, Conan. You are...oh, my...you are truly a splendid specimen of your tiny race, and  it is only my far greater size and strength that allows me to hold you!"

"Woman," Conan growled, "you cannot hold me like this for long."

"That..." Valeria said, breathing heavily now as she struggled with the wildly thrashing barbarian, "..,that is true, Conan. Here. let us...let us do...this."

And with that, the giantess brought Conan down, face-first, onto her breast, adjusting her hands so that she now pinned down Conan's upper body with one arm, and his bottom and upper legs with the other. Now Conan found himself in an even more hopeless position, since Valeria could now use the full strength and weight of both of her massive arms to pin him helplessly to her breast.

"Release me at once!" Conan roared, as his head lay between her breasts. He struggled to push himself up, but was unable to do it because his arms were useless to him, as they lay trapped between Valeria's tautly-muscled arms and her large, softly-yielding breasts. He found he could do naught but kick his feet uselessly upon her taut stomach. The burning frustration was almost more than the proud Cimmerian could bear. "I said, unhand me, woman!" Conan bellowed in the voice that had blasted terror into the hearts of a thousand foes.

Valeria smiled, and it was clear that Conan's shout had not struck terror into her heart. "There," she said with amusement, her breathing beginning slow, "that is better, is it not? I could hold you like this for a very long time, Conan. Now, stop that useless struggling, and let us enjoy each other."

"By Crom, you shall pay for this!" Conan raged, as he continued to struggle beneath her iron grasp. In his heart, he knew his struggles were useless, but his unconquerable barbarian spirit would not allow him to give in. So, he writhed and fought beneath her smothering arms, and he was rewarded only by being pressed more and more deeply into her bounteous, naked breast. As he strove to move his arms, his wrists and forearms chanced to contact the hard, pebbled surface of Valeria's nipples. Her saucer-sized nubbins scraped roughly across the skin of his arms as he struggled, and Conan was dimly aware that with each pass of his arm, Valeria's engorged nipples were stiffening further. The giantess, Conan knew, was becoming aroused.

"See?" Valeria said softly, a catch in her throat, "I see you still resist me, Conan. But see how, even in your tiny struggles, you find a way to please me."

"It was not my intent," Conan growled, lying still a moment in her iron embrace, and resting himself on the chance that an opportunity for escape would present itself. He lay with his head down between Valeria's breasts, riding the warm, gentle roll of her body as her breathing grew heavier. The sensation was not unlike the rhythmic roll of a ship at sea - a motion that a hardened sailor such as Conan grew to disregard and, in truth, no longer even noticed. This sensation was new, however, and Conan realized that he now also once again felt the slow undulations of the ship beneath them both, its measured swells moving in counterpoint to the rising and falling of Valeria's heaving breast.

And then Conan was surprised by a random thought that bubbled up from somewhere deep in his unconscious mind: would he, one day, become as accustomed to the smoothly-rolling, tidal pull of Valeria's body, as he was now accustomed to the eternal rise and fall of the sea?

"You are coming around to the idea, my king."

Conan closed his eyes, then muttered sullenly into Valerie's breast. "So say you?"

"Aye," Valeria said softly, raising her arm up off of Conan's back, then tracing a slow line with her finger across his shoulders. "And it is not only I who says it. All this time, even as you struggled beneath me, your stiffened manhood has been poking me in the belly."

Conan shook his head and surprised even himself with a bark of harsh laughter. He had pulled in his newly freed arms, and pillowed his head on his hands between Valerie's breasts. "Valeria," he said into the soft valley between her tits, "that hot-headed brute has got me into more scrapes than I care to mention, and this time I fear he has outdone himself."

Valeria laughed. "Still, we shall not waste his ardor, shall we, Conan?"

"No," Conan said wearily, "I suppose we shall not."

Then, before he knew what was happening, giant hands had once again encircled his middle, and he was lifted up to Valeria's smiling face. Without saying a word, Valeria brought him to her mouth and kissed him. The kiss was a violent blur of huge, sucking lips, a slithery, serpent-like tongue, and great, softly nibbling teeth. The violence of her kiss stole the air from Conan's lungs, and the relentlessly probing tongue swathed his face in a thick, wet blanket of Valeria's spit. Conan, his senses reeling drunkenly, began to understand why Valeria had found his own attempt at a passionate kiss to be 'gentle'.

Conan found himself pulled from Valeria's face, then whirled about in her hands and carried swiftly away. When his feet touched the floor, he found himself squarely between Valeria's legs, her smoothly-rounded thighs rising nearly on a level with his own waist. 

As he looked numbly about him, Valeria said, teasingly, "Now, Conan, I hope that you do not intend further resistance, now that you are free from my grasp." She slowly slid her legs together, cupping his body gently between the twin walls of her warm, firm thighs. "What say you King Conan? Will you try to escape my tender embrace?"

Conan, his mind still addled from the violent assault of Valeria's kiss and the whirlwind ride that had landed him in this fleshy prison, glanced at the fair, taut thighs that entrapped him. He reached an absent hand down to press into the skin of Valeria's leg, finding that, though the skin was soft and slightly yielding, it was tightly-muscled and firm, and he knew that Valeria, should she choose to do so, could squeeze her legs together in a vice-like grip that could probably crush bone.

Conan made up his mind. He shook his head, and managed a grim smile at his own expense. He didn't say a word. He simply reached out his hands before him, and placed them together, almost in a semblance of prayer. Then he looked meaningfully up into her giant eyes, and slowly pivoted his hands open, the fingers spreading away while the backs of his palms stayed together.

"Oh, be still my virgin heart!" Valeria cried with exaggerated zeal and a snort of laughter, releasing Conan from the warm prison of her powerful legs. "Surely your sweet and delicately-delivered proposal will cause such a dainty maiden as I to swoon in a heap upon thy bed chamber floor!" With a feminine giggle that thundered around the walls of the small cabin, Valeria slid her legs wide across the wood-planked floor, with such speed and force that her heels squealed as they flew along the hard wood planks. "You, barbarian," Valeria said, still laughing, "are a true romantic!"

"Be still, woman," Conan said as he strode between her giant thighs, and glanced up at her with a hard grin. "Were you, in fact, a 'dainty maiden', I mayhap would have tried a more genteel approach."

Valeria placed the back of her hand to her brow and drew her gaze away. "You pierce me to the quick, sir, with your indelicate barb!"

Conan grunted at that, then ripped away his breech clout as he approached her womanhood. "Not yet, I haven't, but I shall make an attempt at it now."

Most of his concentration was on the daunting task that lay before him, but Conan didn't miss the quick intake of her breath, as he had torn away his breech clout and exposed his newly-awakened manhood.

Valeria had been right, Conan told himself now with an inner grin, he was indeed 'coming around to the idea of it'.

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Later, as he lay alone in his cabin, he would try to recall the exact details of their love-making, and found that he could not. He saw it all only as a dream-like blur of images, roughly connected in time, yet becoming a jumbled, disjointed whirlwind in his mind when he tried to recall it all at once. He remembered coming to her womanhood - like a supplicant drawn to some ancient and revered altar. Her great slit glistened wetly from their teasing and sparring, as well as from the touch of her own, probing fingers. He remembered being daunted at first by its pure grandeur, becoming emboldened only when his mind cast aside the thought of the thing's sheer size, seizing instead upon the over-powering allure of this that lay before him - this flesh-and-blood shrine to the elemental Feminine. He fell into her like a starving man falls to a plate of lamb.

He had vague memories of his bold thrusts, images of himself pounding his body into hers, striving to push himself more deeply into her. He remembered his manhood sliding wetly between her enclosing walls, imagining it coursing around inside her slippery vastness, and striving to plumb her daunting depths. He recalled both the sensation of his belly pressed across her lightly-furred pubis, as well as the feel of the warm, firm skin of her stomach, as he grabbed it in tight handfuls to find purchase, that he may better plunge himself into her again and again. He remembered his feet pressed between the junction of the floor and her great, firm thighs, stabilizing his thrusts as he threw himself at her with wild abandon. Over it all, he felt the shuddering quakes of her body as she writhed above and around him, and heard the thunderous sighs such as must surely come only from the lips of a rutting goddess.

At some point, near the end, he remembered the feel of his legs being drawn slowly but irresistibly apart. He looked down to find two of her fingers, one on each side, probing in on the inner side of his thighs. In the midst of his thrusts, he watched with breathless fascination, as the huge fingers slipped in along side his steadily-pumping manhood, cupping it and his testes in their gentle embrace. The fingers, cradling their fleshy burden, dipped inside her womanhood as well, thrusting in rhythm with his own, excited manhood. He found that he now had a different sense of things, seeming to be riding her fingers as they carried him back and force in powerful thrusts. And now he had a lessening of a sense if her slick, inside walls, while at the same time becoming more acutely aware of her fingers on his surging manhood; her fingers, though they were fast becoming a whirling blur as she increased the speed of her thrusts, still cradled his manhood gently, their soft pads cupping and squeezing it even as they continued to plunge him roughly into her womanhood.

The finish was mostly lost to his addled mind. He recalled a time where his feet lost purchase with the planks and her thighs, and thus removed from his support, his own thrusting became weak, nearly non-existent. The pounding thrusts continued, though, and they were, if anything, more violent than before. He had a vague sense of her other hand coming into play behind him, joining its partner and crushing him into her with a violence that rocked him into blissful oblivion as he exploded deep within her, while her body shuddered violently all about him and her ear-shattering wails of pleasure followed him down into the darkness.

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Afterward, both lovers lay in a stupor having little to do with drunkenness. Conan lay on his belly atop Valeria, his head pillowed upon the soft skin between her bare breasts, and his legs trailing down to the tops of her smooth, full thighs. Beneath his belly, the remnants of his sticky seed lay drying thickly on her skin.

Valeria was the first to rouse, opening her eyes to the sight of a slumbering, foot-and-a half tall man lying senseless on her breast. She smiled warmly. "Conan," she called softly, raising a hand to ruffle his thick, black mane. "Do you live still? Or have I, despite my earnest intent to do otherwise, caused you harm?"

Conan slowly opened his eyes, smacking his lips at a thick stickiness that he instantly identified as Valerie's drying saliva. "I believe," he said groggily, as he brought his head up to look into her giant face, "that I am unharmed, Valeria." He gave out with a jaw-cracking yawn, then pushed up on his elbows and leaned over onto Valeria's bare right breast. He spread his arms wide across the firm softness of the giant tit, and plopped his upper body down onto it, pillowing his head between his crossed arms. He closed his eyes again. "Still, in my slumber, something has occurred to me."

"And what is that, my king?"

"Months ago, when I was first hauled up onto this ship, I recall that you said something about wanting me as a pet for your niece."

Valeria smiled sheepishly, as she began to stroke softly at Conan's bare back side. "I had thought you insensible at the time, Conan. I am sorry."

Conan shook his head with purpose, rolling his chin across her softly-yielding breast as he opened his eyes to look at her. "Be not sorry, Valeria. I have seen your niece. Danae takes after her aunt, and is a comely child. She is twelve, I believe?"

Valeria smiled again. "Yes. Thirteen at the next new moon."

Conan nodded, closing his eyes again, and settling down upon his warm, fleshy pillow. "Perhaps, in six or seven seasons hence, I shall no longer balk at being given to her as a present."

Valeria snorted, and gave Conan a smack on the bottom that would have caused a lesser man to yelp in surprise and pain. Instead, Conan merely gritted his teeth and gave out with a soundless moan into the soft meat of Valeria's breast.

"Conan," she said with a smirk, reaching down to place her hands on either side of the weary Cimmerian. "While I should be angry with you for suggesting my niece as a future rival for your affections, I can't help but notice that you speak of yourself as still residing in our land six or seven years from now. Does that mean you intend to stay here with us? You would suffer yourself to dwell here among my 'monstrous ilk'?"

"I have learned," Conan said, as huge hands cupped his sides and lifted him up toward a beautiful, smiling face, "that some of your ilk are far, far less monstrous than the rest." He grinned. "My queen."

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