Chapter 29: Thalendra, the Siren of the Drowned Moon
Beneath the sky of shifting stormclouds and mist-touched stars, the coastal kingdom of Nerysia rose from the sea like a forgotten dream. Its towers were sculpted from coral and pearl, its bridges weaved from silver kelp. Music rode the ocean wind — not flutes or drums, but the strange, rhythmic pulse of waves and haunting, feminine voices.
Riven stepped off the enchanted skiff that had brought him to these forbidden waters. The sea hissed beneath his boots. Moonlight painted the tide in silver flame.
He had heard whispers of this place: a sanctuary hidden beneath the veil of tides, ruled by a being who could charm gods and drown demons — a siren queen said to be the last of her kind.
She was watching him even now.
And then she emerged.
Thalendra.
Her body rose from the surf in silence. Water slid from her like silk, revealing skin that shimmered with the hues of moonlit ocean — pale blue with hints of silver, her curves carved like art. She was naked but adorned: strands of pearls twisted around her hips, and her nipples were covered by shells that gleamed with magic. Her hair, long and flowing like seaweed in current, trailed behind her in waves of white and indigo.
Her eyes… they were not just eyes. They were deep, opalescent whirlpools of emotion — ancient, sensual, dangerous.
"You are the only man who has dared approach Nerysia in a thousand years," she said, her voice soft as foam and yet heavy as the tide. "Tell me… did the sea call you? Or did your cock lead the way?"
Riven didn't speak. He was already under her spell.
With a smirk, Thalendra raised one hand. The water obeyed her — wrapping gently around his clothes and stripping them from his body in delicate ribbons, as if the ocean itself wished to undress him.
She circled him, her fingertips tracing along his chest, his abs, down to his rising length.
"Not just a man…" she murmured, "You're the one they whisper about. The one who awakens goddesses."
She cupped his cock, her palm cool but growing warmer as she touched him.
"Let me taste the truth of you."
Riven gasped as she sank to her knees — beneath the tide itself — and drew him into her mouth.
She was no ordinary lover. Her lips were soft as silk kelp, and her tongue moved with the precision of waves shaping the shore. Her eyes stayed on his, wide and glowing beneath the surface, her silver lashes fluttering as she took him deeper, impossibly deep. The ocean cradled him, holding him still while her throat swallowed his full length.
Riven groaned, hands gripping her wet hair, the sensation otherworldly.
Then she rose, parting her legs, showing him the place between them — her pussy like a glowing pearl, soft and inviting, its folds delicate like underwater petals. Moisture already clung to her — not just wet, but slick with a nectar of the sea, clear and luminescent.
"You've tasted land," she whispered. "Now taste the sea."
He knelt and buried his face between her thighs.
She cried out — a haunting moan that echoed across the bay — as his tongue parted her. Her taste was salt and sweetness, like oceanfruit kissed by starlight. Her folds were soft, silky, and sensitive. He teased her slowly, circling her clit with his tongue, then pressing deeper, flicking and lapping until her hips rolled in slow waves against him.
She held his head tightly, trembling as she came — her juices flowing like sacred tidewater.
"Now," she growled, lifting him effortlessly with magic, straddling his lap as he sat on the water itself — floating. "Now fuck me."
She slid down onto him in deep cowgirl, and Riven groaned as her slick walls wrapped around him with perfect, rhythmic pressure.
She rode him with fluidity only the sea could teach — hips swaying, grinding in circles, her breasts bouncing as the waves lifted and dropped them. The stars spun above, and the tide itself seemed to rise in time with her cries.
Riven grabbed her waist and thrust upward — hard — flipping them mid-float. He pinned her in missionary, her legs wrapping around his back, her cries echoing as he pumped into her with deep, rolling strokes. The sea held them aloft like a lover's hand.
He kissed her throat, her breasts, her lips — every part of her tasting like storm and silk.
She grinned, breathless. "Show me your hunger."
He turned her over in the waves, lifting her ass as he plunged into her from behind in doggy style, each thrust making the sea splash and swirl. Her long tail-like hair floated around them, glowing with magic.
He reached forward, rubbing her clit as he pounded her, and she gasped, shuddering, her body squeezing him in pulses.
She came again — harder — her voice wild, the waters around them frothing with her climax.
And then, with a whispered spell, she drew him below the waves.
They plunged into an underwater palace of coral and crystal, glowing with phosphorescent light. There, in her private chamber, she pulled him down onto a bed of giant sea petals, wet and soft and warm.
She straddled him in lotus, wrapping her legs and arms around him, their chests touching, her breath hot on his lips.
"I want your essence," she whispered. "Flood me. Mark me."
He thrust up into her, their bodies locked tightly, his cock pulsing inside her again and again, her walls milking him with greedy devotion.
He exploded into her — wave after wave — and she cried out his name as magic rippled from their joined bodies, glowing through the room.
They floated there, bodies entwined, glowing in the watery dusk.
After a long silence, she kissed his chest. "I've devoured many sailors. But you… you gave yourself. You didn't drown. You swam into me."
He smiled. "I'll come again, won't I?"
"Oh yes," she whispered, trailing her fingers over his heart. "Now the sea knows your rhythm."