The Knight and the Acolyte Book 6, Chapter 1: The Pirate’s Claws
Introduction:
Thrak must satiate the dominating lust of the sexy, pirate captain ferrying the party from Raratha.
Book Six: Heart’s Longing
Chapter One: The Pirate’s Claws
By mypenname3000
Copyright 2016
Xandra – Black Glass Aerie, The Island of Birds
I knelt on the edge of my parent’s nest on the steep cliff my people lived upon, my feet dangling over the side, staring at the black rocks of Mount Peritito choked with vines. I tried not to look at the large pyre being laid on the aerie’s largest outcropping, situated just above the jungle’s top. The large logs had already been laid for the fire and the ground around it swept clear of creeping vines. Young maidens, all newly crossed into adulthood, stamped down the ground, their giggling trills rising up to me.
They all dreamed of the male they would mate. Each had her favorite, the one she would dance for and hope to earn his gaze. But only the most beautiful avian maiden would only have one male in mind, confident to win his affection. I should be down with them. All unmated maidens, by custom, prepared the dancing field.
But what was the point? I had danced before the mating pyre twice before. No male wanted a wife who could not transform into a bird and dance through the skies with him. No male wanted a wife who still possessed her adolescent name.
Xandra.
I had earned the name at eleven when my spirit quest revealed I would serve my aerie as a shaman. My parents had been so proud of me then. A shaman. When they named me at hatching, they chose Sky as my child name. They believed I would soar far. And then I was given Xandra when chosen as a shaman. A good name for a student of spirits.
But at eighteen, when I crossed into adulthood, I failed to transform into a bird. Unlike the other adults else in Black Glass Aerie, I could not take to the skies. I was stuck living on the side of the cliff like a child, denied my adult name.
Tears brimmed my eyes as I looked away from the clearing. I stared up at the darkened sky. Night descended onto the Isle of Birds. The distant Nimborgoth became a dark smear on the horizon. The lights of the halfling city of Baraconia burned like a small beacon on its edge past the dark-green canopy of the Collserola Jungle that surrounded the flanks of Mount Peritito.
I would be stuck here on the ground forever. Flightless. Nameless. Forever an adolescent. No male wanted a wife who could not fly.
I pressed my face into my knees. My skirt slid down my thighs, exposing the pale skin. My tears fell. I shuddered for a few moments, the bitter memories of my first mating dance washing over me.
I had been certain that Obsidian would choose me despite my failure to transform. I could still tend the nest. I was still a shaman. I invoked the elements and helped our people survive. I was important, even if I had no true name or ability to fly. Obsidian and I had been close as children. I was certain he would chose me. He always favored me over the other chicks and hatchlings.
And then I danced before him, my body moving, awakening to my sexual desires. My pussy had grown heated between my thighs while my bare breasts bounced firm before him. I had never exposed myself to a man, but I bared my nubile body before him and the watching tribe, hoping he would lift his eyes and stare at me. I danced and danced, drinking in his gorgeous, black hair and his slim shoulders. He was a pretty male. Exotic.
Black hair was so uncommon.
My soft-blue tresses danced about me as I spun. With every beat of the drum, my body grew hotter, my dance more graceful. I put my all into performing, enticing him. I saw his arousal tenting the front of his blue kilt.
But he wouldn’t look me in the eye.
Tears burned in my eyes when I moved on. My friend, Sapphire, took my spot, dancing before Obsidian. She hardly had to shake her hips when Obsidian looked up at her. How Sapphire had sang, her voice trilling as she fell on his lap. Her moans sang as she gave her virginity to her mate, echoing over the beat of the drums.
I could still remember the way her ass writhed and clenched as she made love to Obsidian. He held her, their lips pressed together, her larger breasts rubbing on his chest. They danced their marriage, undulating together, working towards their shared pleasure.
He was supposed to be mine. But I failed to transform into a bird. The only avian on the Island of Birds who could not enjoy our race’s profound gift.
Wings flapped. I lifted my head. A pair of falcons danced through the air. Not true birds, but avians. I recognized the subtle difference in the pattern of feathers. Sapphire and Obsidian, playing with each other on the currents of winds, screeching their joy at their marriage. They had their first hatchling, a son, only weeks back.
My fists clenched and I stood up, my red skirt swirling about my thighs. I looked away. Sapphire had what should have been mine. Obsidian was so handsome, so wonderful. He hunted in the jungle, bringing back food for the aerie. Sapphire wore the bone and wood jewelry he carved for her.
He doted on her.
I reached the ladder. I was nineteen and forced to climb like a child. I scampered up the wooden ladder. It climbed high towards the next ledge. I stepped off and crossed it for the next ladder leading up and up. I kept climbing, navigating the ledges and nests, working to the highest point of the aerie.
The highest place I could go.
I stepped off the ladder onto the ledge before the Shaman’s cave. It led deeper into the mountain, towards the gem beds and the volcano’s heart, sealed to keep the imps from spilling through the aerie and causing all manner of mischief. And to protect what was entrusted to our Aerie.
I sighed in relief—Shaman Farsight had sought his nest. I was alone.
I did not want to hear my mentor’s reproaches for skirting my obligation to help prepare for the mating ceremony. Since failing to transform, he found fault in everything I did. It didn’t matter how well I shaped the gems for trade, how skilled my digging homunculi were, or how many new beds of rubies or sapphires or topazes I found. My gems were never quite perfect for his standards, my homunculi never quite as quick as they should be, and my gem beds were never quite large enough.
I peered down the mountain. I stood on the edge, my toes over it, and spread my arms like wings. I closed my eyes and savored the wind whipping past me, blowing my hair and rustling my skirt. In my imagination I flew, dancing through the skies, experiencing the true freedom. I could fly away from the aerie, skim across the top of the jungle, float above the city of Baraconia and then out over the Nimborgoth. I would keep flying and flying until I reached distant shores—the desert of Halani, the islands of Thlin, the black wasts of Azi, the Haunted Forest, the mouth of the mighty Tingul.
I could see it all beneath me, small, tiny, beautiful.
I could fly with my mate, our wings almost touching as we spiraled around each other, singing our love. And then we would land in quiet privacy, a hidden glade in the jungle decorated with flowering vines and scented with sweet perfumes.
Obsidian flashed in my mind, so strong, so beautiful, his dark eyes round, his lips plump, his body muscled and slim, his kilt tented with his excitement as he laid me down on the soft moss. His delicate fingers would pull off my top, exposing my small breasts.
My arms lowered as I pictured his hand sliding up my skirt, exposing my slim legs. His hand would brush my thigh, teasing me. A hot shudder ran up my body. I let out a sigh, dreaming of the wonders of love-making.
My hands slid up my thigh and beneath my skirt, touching my flesh in poor mimicry of my fantasy. No male would want me. Only crude masturbation gave me any pleasure.
In my fantasy, Obsidian’s hand reached my pussy. His fingers were wonderful, sliding through the folds of my sex, teasing me, stimulating me. I shuddered and moaned, my toes curling, gripping the ledge’s edge as I caressed my clit and pretended it was Obsidian’s touch.
“My love,” I moaned, rubbing harder at my sex.
Pleasure tingled through me. My mother always whispered that a male’s touch would be far better than my own fumblings. And my own touch was so sweet. I moaned into the night, my nipples hard beneath my top as I rubbed vigorously at my clit.
I circled the nub. My lips moved, pretending Obsidian kissed them. Juices leaked out of my pussy, coating my fingers in my sweet honey. I groaned, rubbing harder as I imagined gripping his dick and guiding it into my pussy.
In my fantasy, I was no virgin but a wife mated before the flock.
“Obsidian,” I panted as I imagined his girth sliding into my sheath. My fingers moved down, caressing my maidenhead. There was one hole just big enough in the membrane for my little finger to wiggle through.
I shuddered as I caressed the insides of my wet pussy. My other hand slid up my bare belly and beneath my sleeveless top, cupping my small breast. I pumped my little finger faster and faster, the heel of my hand grinding on my clit while I pinched my nipple.
You’re so beautiful, my mate, Obsidian whispered. Perfect. Whether as a bird or a woman.
“Yes,” I groaned, the pleasure building inside of me. I swayed in the wind, my hips undulating, humping against my hand. My clit throbbed. “You’re so beautiful, too, my mate.”
Your plumage is so sleek, he moaned in my fantasy, his hips pumping as we made love, my breasts crushed to his chest. I’m so glad I chose you over Sapphire.
I moaned again, tossing back my head. The pleasure crested inside of me. My pussy spasmed about my little finger. The tingles rushed through me. I chirped my delight, my lips pursed, whistling sighs mixing between my pleasure. I swayed more, leaning out over the edge of the cliff and then back.
The sweet release hit my mind. I savored it, held onto it, pretended Obsidian gasped my name as he spent inside of me. I gripped my fantasy, not wanting to let go of my moment of peace and happiness.
Wings flapped.
I squeaked and ripped my hands from beneath my clothing. A large, white roc soared down, landing behind me. I tensed, breathing in, my face flushed as I turned to face the roc. The bird shimmered, the feathers retracting as the form of a man appeared, skin dark-olive, hair a white, wild tangle, papery-skin almost transparent, the veins bleeding through.
“Shaman Farsight,” I bowed, my cheeks burning. How much had he witnessed?
“Have you abandoned the hope that any of our males would want you?” he asked, his voice a dry rasp. “Huh?”
“Yes, Master,” I whispered, staring at the ground.
“Good, good,” he nodded. “Let those sweet maidens who have earned their true name dance. Don’t tempt a male with your body. He will never be happy. And what if your chicks and drakes cannot change, huh? Does the aerie need another useless avian?”
“No, Master.” I clenched my fists.
“Good, good,” he nodded, then shook his head. “I understand you have only yourself to care for the hungers of your body, but do not abuse yourself on my ledge, chick. This is holy ground. Do not profane it with your filthy masturbation.”
“Yes, Master.” I rubbed my hands together, one sticky with my honey.
“And why were you even doing on the ledge, chick? Masturbating in the open? Hoping you would lead a male into mating with you? Huh? Looking to break apart a nest?”
“Of course not, Master,” I gasped. “What male in the aerie would cheat on his mate? None in our aerie are so base.”
His eyes flicked at my body. “Do not flaunt your body and tempt them, chick. Go back to your parents’ nest. Watching your display sickens me. I cannot stand the sight of you.”
“Of course, Master.” I bowed. As I turned my head, I noticed the bulge pressing on his kilt.
Something had aroused the old avian. Me? Had I inflamed his lusts? His mate was long dead. Yesrilia died when I was a child. My cheeks flushed. I was tempting him into breaking his marriage dance, any male preferable to loneliness. But the fact Yesrilia was dead did not make my desire to claimed by the old shaman, to settle for something over nothing, any less wrong.
The marriage dance was inviolate, a scared right performed in the eyes of the God Luben.
I fled down the ladder, shame rippling through me. I tempted the poor shaman with my body. I made him ache, and he had only himself for satisfaction. Like me. My cheeks burned the entire way down the aerie to my parent’s nest.
I curled up on the piled feathers, animal hides, and soft moss. I would forever be trapped—not an adult nor a child—in limbo. My body had urges, and I would never have a mate to satisfy them. I would never fly. I would be stuck scampering up and down ladders, useless, a burden on my people.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lady Delilah – The Free City of Raratha
The Golden Hunger sailed south for the Island of the Birds, Angela and her companions safely aboard with the second piece of the sword. I watched the pirate ship dwindle as i stood on the roof of the Saltspray Palace. Below, the Doge screamed his orders of revenge, freed from the mage’s fiery prison. Angela’s plan had not worked the way she had hoped.
Her quest would be far harder. Now two rulers wanted her dead.
Doge Aurelius had resources. The exorbitant bounty, 5000 dupondius, would have every sellsword, bounty hunter, and would-be adventurer eager to capture Angela. How could I protect Angela? She was talented, and her companions were skilled, but nothing was ever certain in combat. Luck played as much a role as skill. All my dead husband’s plans would be ruined if Angela died.
“Why did you give me this task?” I whispered, lifting my head to the sky.
The memory of his voice rose in my mind, his final words to me, Because you are strong enough to see it through.
The betrayal of his death still stung, his promises broken by her.
I was strong enough to see it through. The Doge would hire champions, the most skilled adventurous and freebooters he could muster. The most dangerous men and women and monsters he could find to hunt Angela down. I could not stop him short of swooping down and killing the man. And once I started…
I took a deep breath, mastering myself. No, instead I should be one of the bounty hunters.
But which? I considered my disguises and smiled. I knew the perfect alias. I changed my form and soared from the rooftop to make my arrangements.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Knight-Errant Angela – The Nimborgoth south of Raratha
The oars creaked and the sailors grunted as they rowed the longboat farther and farther from Raratha and the Saltspray Palace. No one spoke. We were all reeling from the events of the night. What should have been the perfect crime transformed into a catastrophe thanks to the interference of the erinyes. Now the Doge of Raratha knew we had stolen the piece of the High King’s sword from the Great Vault in his palace.
My name would be attainted. Soon the Lord-Commander would learn of my crime. Theft, assault on the ruler of Raratha, violation of hospitality. Serious crimes. Though I never liked the plan to have our newest companion, Minx, steal the piece, I understood the necessity. The Doge would never have parted with his treasure. He was too miserly.
Did the good act of slaying the dragon Dominari outweigh the crime we committed?
I pulled out the two pieces of the sword, the handle and crossguard we recovered from Murathi and the pommel Minx and Xera looted from the Great Vault. The golden pieces fit together. Power tingled in the pieces, memory of the god-forged blade’s prowess.
Stealing the sword’s pommel may have been a good act, but Minx and Xera looted more treasure to pay the pirate ship we rowed to—the Golden Hunger. Thrak, with Minx’s introduction, contracted the pirate Thyrna, a dangerous woman, to ferry us across the Nimborgoth. It was necessary for Minx, Xera, and Thrak to slip away from Raratha before the Doge discovered the theft. Sophia, Faoril, Chaun, and myself would have remained guests of the palace for a few more days before sailing to Baraconia on the Island of Birds to meet our companions, allaying any suspicion of the theft from us.
“There it is,” Sophia said, the first person to speak since the startling news Chaun had told me. Not even Chaun said a word since he revealed his secret. Normally, the bard would sing a song to hearten our spirits. I could not believe he knew Lady Delilah, the beautiful, redheaded Knight Deute who had been my inspiration to join the order. My head still swam from the revelation. She had set him on the path to join us. So why did she give me a garnet necklace, worn about my neck, and its twin to the now dead Warlock Fireeyes?
Was she aiding or hindering me?
I touched the necklace, stroking it. I thought when she gave me the necklace, the morning I set out on my quest, it was a token of her care for me. Her words had given me the strength to face the quest. My girlhood crush flared to life. But Fireeyes, according to Faoril, had used its twin to track us. And the foul warlock had tried to kill us several times for reasons I still did not know.
“She looks like a caravel.” Disappointment soured Sophia’s voice as she stared at the Golden Hunger bobbing on the dark sea. A caravel was a common type of ship.
“Did you expect her to look special?” grunted a rower. Like the others he was a strapping man, deep-chested, broad-shouldered, handsome countenance. The rough man I liked to tumble with.
“Well…” Sophia’s words trailed off. Her light-brown hair framed her youthful face. We were of an age, but she had a soft innocence about her that hadn’t been fully weathered away by nearly four months of hard traveling and danger. “I thought the ship would be…menacing.”
“When she’s runnin’ full sail, bearin’ down on a Grahaten baroque, she’s plenty menacin’.”
Another sailor snorted, his wide, ebony face twisting as a sardonic grin graced thick lips. “Plus the Cap’n’s plenty menacing on her own.”
Thrak nodded his head in agreement. “She’s got the spine of an orc wife. Deep eyes. Hungry eyes.”
“Well, she is a pirate captain,” Chaun supplied. He had reverted to his normal appearance: midnight-black skin—darker than the ebony pirate—silver-white hair, pointed ears like Xera’s, and a face that verged on beautiful, delicate yet still male. “I imagine more than a few tales are sung about her.”
“Oh, yes,” chortled Minx. The halfling thief clutched her sack of loot on her lap. In the darkness, her size made her seem like a child holding a large, lumpy pillow. But no child had her mischievous grin. “But she’s an honest pirate. You don’t stick a knife in her back, and she probably won’t stick one in yours.”
“Probably?” Sophia asked. Then she glanced at Thrak. “Is she beautiful?”
Thrak glanced at Faoril, who stared out at the waters, before answering, “Like a winter storm.”
Xera smiled at Sophia. “You’re next conquest?”
“I’m always on the prowl.”
Xera’s ears twitched in mirth, drawing my eyes to the four-leafed clover tucked behind her right one. Where had she gotten it?
“Cap’n ain’t no gamahaucher,” the ebony sailor grunted, his muscles rippling as he worked the oar.
“A what?” asked Sophia.
“Pussy licker,” a blue-skinned, Valyan sailor answered. “Cap’n don’t like women.”
“Maybe I can convince her.”
“Don’t antagonize her,” I admonished, glancing at my lover. “Let’s not annoy the pirate captain ferrying us.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Those two words always sent a hot flutter through me. Such sweet words. I loved playing at domination with my lover. A ship would have abundant rope…
Thoughts of binding Sophia occupied me as we came along side the Golden Hunger. The crew, more brawny men, moved on the dark deck. On the stern deck, a slim figure watched. I thought I caught the reflection of moonlight in a pair of eyes slitted like a cat’s. Was she a lamia?
A net made of thick ropes were thrown over the side, a makeshift ladder. Sophia went before me, cursing under her breath as she struggled up the swaying, twisting net. Xera and Minx had no problems, but my feet kept slipping. The ropes creaked ominously while the Nimborgoth’s waves lapped against the ship’s hull.
A sudden fear seized me. I wore armor and deep waters were below.
I climbed faster.
The ship’s railing didn’t seem so high up until I started climbing. The wind gusted, thick with sea salt. Above me, Sophia struggled, gasping as her foot slipped. Her arms hooked through the netting, hugging the ropes as she struggled to hold on. My hands squeezed the ropes as the net swayed.
“Sophia,” I groaned.
“I’m fine,” she gasped. “Sorry. My feet are tangling in my robe.”
Sophia found her footing while I swayed beneath her clinging to the netting. My chainmail loincloth clinked and jingled. Sophia climbed again and reached the top, her white robes swirling as she hauled herself over and onto the decking. I focused on the top, ignoring the water slapping against the dark hull, and sighed when my fingers reached the railing. A moment later, I rolled over and landed on my feet on the deck.
The ship moved beneath me. I frowned, my stomach lurching as I forced myself to adjust to the balance. There was no end to the adjustments I had to make, my feet sliding, my hips moving to keep me upright. The sailors moved with it naturally while I took a moment to put out my arms and steady myself.
It was different than the river boat’s rock, more pronounced, the Nimborgoth’s swells greater than the rippling of the Royton River. I gripped the railing and shook my head, struggling to get used to the bob.
“So, I see things did not go as you planned, Thrak,” a woman’s voice purred.
The figure on the higher stern deck stepped down the narrow stairs, her boots thudding. Sophia let out a sigh of pure lust as the captain of the Golden Hunger reached the lower deck. She was a tall woman with wavy-black hair framing a sensuous face. Hungry lips smiled, dark eyes gleamed. Her skin was dark-brown, not from the sun’s tan, but a natural brown, a hue I had never seen on a human before. From what land did she hail? Her eyes were normal, human. Whatever I had seen reflected must have been the jewelry adorning her body. Tight, leather britches clung to curvy hips, and a ruffled blouse, left half-unbutton to display her large breasts, rippled in the wind.
“Things rarely do,” the orc replied. “This is Knight-Errant Angela, the leader of our quest.”
I forced myself from the railing and walked to the woman, noting the cutlass hanging on her hip. She wore it with a natural grace. Her eyes flicked to me for a moment and then back to Thrak. “Do you have my promised treasure, orc? Or do I have to throw you and your companions overboard?” She paused, her smile growing hungrier. “Well, maybe not you.”
“We have it,” I answered, standing beside Thrak. “Minx, Xera.”
The halfling and elf brought the two sacks of treasure forward. Behind us, the pirates hauled up our belongings, grunting as they worked the ropes. Minx sighed as she set her sack down and shook her head, then she opened it up. Xera had no hesitation.
The captain smiled. “Well, well, well. You did loot the Doge’s Great Vault. He must be wroth with you.”
“Very,” I answered.
“One sack is almost too much,” the captain sighed. “Even with the palace shining with lights and ringing with alarms, I did not truly believe you would rob his Great Vault. Or, at least, escape.”
“You didn’t realize I was the best thief in Raratha,” Minx boasted.
An idea occurred to me. We were fugitives. Finding honest merchants to transport us from the Island of Birds once we had the next piece of the sword may prove difficult. “Apply the excess to our next contract,” I answered. “Once we finish our business in Baraconia, we have other stops to make.”
“Stops?”
I pictured the route we had planned. From Baraconia we would travel to the city of Hargone at the mouth of the Elpa River. The city lay on the other side of the Nimborgoth. From there, we would venture into the Halani Desert to find the famed Mirage Gardens where another piece of the sword was contained. Then we had to sail to Grahata and slay the Minotaur in the city’s labyrinth. A task no hero has attempted in a thousand years. Then we needed to travel to the Haunted Forest and find the final piece of my ancestors sword. Thaville was the nearest port to that. Then our final voyage, sailing north into the Holani Sea and reaching the port of Unmik back on the mainland.
“A few,” I nodded and explained our course. The captain arched an eyebrow as I described our course and quest. Minx listened intently, her eyes wide. She had not heard the entire quest before. She rubbed her hands together, eager for the adventure.
Talking helped me ignore the queasy roll in my stomach.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Acolyte Sophia
“Your treasure may hire me for the duration,” Captain Thyrna said. I loved watching the way her lips moved, my pussy dripping with excitement. “Depends on how long your missions take you. Travel to the Haunted Forest takes time and questing for the Mirage Gardens…” Her smile broadened. “Of course, more treasure would bind me farther.”
Angela nodded her head. “Very well.”
“The Golden Hunger has very few guest quarters, but they are yours. You will have to double up and share.”
“What about your quarters?” I asked, putting on my most seductive smile. “I’m sure we could make that enjoyable.”
The captain’s eyes hardened. “When the sun lightens the horizon, we’ll sail south for Baraconia.” And then she swept away, barking orders at her crew, ignoring me.
I sighed in disappointment.
“I guess no fun for you,” Angela said, a smile on her lips.
“I guess not.” I stretched my back and yawned. “Oh, well, it is late. And the sphinx gave me quite a lot of fun tonight.” My pussy ached, remembering the sphinx’s wonderful tongue licking my pussy. Concubine fit for a queen.
I liked what the sphinx said about me.
“Care to find our quarters, Mistress?” I asked, sidling closer to Angela.
“I…” Her eyes widened. In the silvery moonlight, her face turned a curious shade, and then her boots pounded as she raced for the railing and retched.
“Angela,” I gasped, moving across the rolling deck. My stomach swayed inside of me. A touch of queasiness gripped me, spurred more by the sounds coming from my lover than the ocean’s swell. I grabbed her red hair, pulling it out of the way before she got sick on it. “Are you okay?”
“Why does the boat move so much?” she groaned. “The river made me a little queasy. But this? I—”
I blanched and looked away, wishing I didn’t have to hear the sounds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warlock Faoril
I drifted away from the others. They spoke but their words passed through me without comprehension. Shock had hollowed out my innards. I felt so light I was shocked the sea breeze did not borne me aloft and carry me away. I reached the ship’s bow, climbing a steep ladder onto the higher deck. I stared at the spar jutting forward, sharp, hard.
Did the ship ever ram its prey?
Relaria’s yowling death scream echoed through my mind. My thoughts were trapped in a deep rut, replaying her death over and over, feeling the knot in the back of my head that was her life unraveling. I had used Fireeyes’s foul knowledge to dominate and control the lamia. It was to protect our mission. And then when I dueled the Doge’s personal mage, I needed help.
I didn’t hesitate to summon Relaria and use her as a distraction. She wasn’t supposed to die.
Relaria’s yowl as the sparks flared about her, throwing her body back into the burning brush of the garden.
I stared at the ocean. The dark waves flashed silver as they rippled before me. The ship bobbed and rocked. The wind touched my light-brown hair and rustled my red robes. The soot of Fireeyes’s book still stained my hand. I had burned it. I was wrong about it.
Some knowledge was too wicked to ever be used.
Why wasn’t I crying? I killed an innocent lamia. I forced her to attack a Master Mage, a man I had trouble dueling. She had no choice in it. I held her will. She was my slave.
Relaria’s yowl screamed through my mind. Her body rolled limp across the ground, her flesh burned from the mage’s wards.
“Faoril.”
Thrak’s booming voice washed over me. He surprised me, but I didn’t jump. He loomed behind me. I wanted to turn, to bury my face into his chest and feel his strong arms about me. But I didn’t deserve comfort.
I was a murderer.
“Faoril.” Softer this time. His broad, swarthy hands rested on my shoulders, squeezing, comforting.
I shrugged them away.
“What’s wrong? What happened up there?”
I couldn’t answer him. How could I explain what I did? Relaria yowled, screeching in dying pain. I did that to her.
“Please, Faoril.”
I had to say something. I had to tell him. I tried to open my mouth, but a cork plugged my soul, bottling up the guilt. My hands gripped the railing. I shook as I struggled. “Nothing.”
No. Don’t say that. Tell him. Tell him what you did. You’re a murderer. A filthy, gods-damned murderer.
“I’m just tired. I used a lot of magic. I had to fight the Doge’s mage. He was a master.”
“I see.” Thrak paused. “So you’ll be expelled from your order?”
“A criminal. A warlock.” Like Fireeyes. We were both evil. “It will be execution if I return.” Deservedly so. I was a murderer, but the council would only care that I assaulted a Master Mage.
“I’m sorry.” His hands found me again. He thought I mourned my chance to attained the black robes and earn the rank of Master Mage. What did that matter balanced against Relaria’s life?
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not. You don’t deserve that. You—”
“Thrak,” a purring voice call. The captain.
“Yes?” Thrak growled.
“I need to speak with you in my quarters.” Lust dripped from the captain’s words. Feminine lust.
“Not now.”
“No, now. I am the captain, Thrak, and you will attend me. We have things to discuss.”
“It’s fine,” I answered. “She’s beautiful. Enjoy.”
“It’s not fine.” He squeezed my shoulders.
“Thrak,” hissed the captain. “I do not accept disobedience on my ship.”
“Just go, Thrak.” Finally emotion entered my voice—bitter heat. “Go. I don’t need your right now, okay? I just need to be alone.”
Thrak’s hands withdrew. “Don’t pull away, Faoril.”
“Thrak!”
“She’s getting angry. Go. I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he sighed, and then his footsteps thudded away while the captain let out a hungry purr.
I leaned on the railing. The waters were so dark and deep. How many fathoms lay beneath us? How far down was the ocean’s bottom? A vast emptiness filled with shadows. Relaria yowled her dying screech.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thrak
“What?” I demanded when I reached the captain. She stood with a hungry smile on her face. I was not in the mood to satiate her wanton hungers. Faoril was hurting. Something terrible had happened in the palace.
And the damned captain wanted to fuck.
“In private,” she purred, turning, sashaying away. The leathers gripped her ass, her butt-cheeks rippling with each step.
My cock, divorced from my mind, throbbed and hardened.
I let out an angry snarl as I followed after. If she wanted to fuck, I would make her howl. I would fuck her so hard she limped. She thought to rouse an orc’s passion? I would teach her how an orc really fucks.
She let out a purr, her hips shaking more. “I’ve been thinking about you ever since you bested Castor with ease.” A shudder ran through her. “Such strength. You crushed him.”
She was aroused by violence and eager to dominate. A sadist.
The stern deck rose over the mid deck Between the two steep stairs that led to the stern deck was a doorway to the cabins. She thrust it opened, and I followed her down a dark hallway, passing four doors. A fifth lay at the hallways end. She threw it open revealing her bedroom, a bed dominating the room, covered in silken sheets. One wall hung with cutlasses of various styles, trophies. Several chests lay along another wall.
The final wall was covered in lashes, whips, and flails.
“You have a stubborn streak,” she purred, her fingers going to the lacings of her ruffled blouse. “You’re used to giving commands. But there can only be one captain on the ship.”
“And you think whips will make me your obedient slave like the cowed men who crew your ship.”
“Strong men who found their power in surrendering to me,” she answered as she slipped her blouse off. Her round breasts appeared as dark-brown as the rest of her body, her right nipple pierced by a gold ring.
“I’m not one of your crew.” I folded my arms, my dick tenting the front of my kilt.
Her eyes flicked down to my bulge. She licked her lips. “Show me your passion, orc. Show me how much my body inspires your lust.”
“Why?”
“To please me,” she purred. “Don’t you want to please me?”
“You need to earn it,” I said. Her attempts at domination amused me. “On your knees first. That way you’re ready to suck my cock.”
Her teeth flashed as she laughed. Her wavy hair danced about her shoulders and her breasts jiggled. “You think I would suck your cock? I don’t serve.” She turned and grasped a cat-of-nine tails from the wall, the strips of dark leather ending in knots. She swished the flail against her hand, the leather thudding. “No, no, no. That’s your job. Kneel, kiss my boots, and then I may let you lick my pussy and please me.”
My dick ached, my lust mixing with anger. Faoril needed me, and the captain wanted to play games? Then I would play. I unslung my greataxe from my back and set it on the floor. Then I pulled the knots holding my kilt up. It dropped from my swarthy, muscular body, my dick thrusting forward.
Her eyes smiled at the sight of the bone ring piercing the tip. “Well, I do like a man pierced. I’m glad you’re ready to please me.”
I snorted.
Anger hissed from her. Her eyes flashed as she lunged forward. The cat o’ nine tails hissed and cracked across my broad, scarred chest. Pain flared for a moment. I fixed a stare at her, ignoring the flail’s sting. Her face twisted and she whipped the flail across my stomach, the ends wrapping about my side, the painful knots cracking against my back.
“Is that supposed to hurt?”
Her breasts heaved as she hissed, “Ooh, you are a stubborn one. You think I’ve never had a man pretend my cat doesn’t hurt? I know how to handle men like you.” Her free hand reached out, grasping my cock. She stroked me. Pleasure rushed through my body. “Mmm, you are throbbing for me. You ache to be in me, don’t you?”
“A man rises to any stimulation,” I answered. “It is an automatic response caused by stimulation to my nerves. Many are clustered at the tip of my cock.”
She furrowed her eyebrows. “An educated orc.” Her thumb ran across the tip of my cock. I fought the shuddering groan that wanted to rise from my throat. “The stimulation may be automatic, but that doesn’t change how you ache to rut in my flesh. To feel my sweet cunny wrapped about your hard prick. I can feel it. Smell it. The lust pours off of you, orc.”
The flail cracked down on my shoulders, the knots striking my back. My flesh welted. I did not wince or flinch.
“So you will submit to me because you want satisfaction. You will fall to your knees, kiss my boots, and then lick my pussy because of the promise of release.” She stroked the tip of my dick as she cracked the flail on my back.
Pain and pleasure mixed.
Her lips moved to my ears. Her fingers still teased me, smearing precum about the sensitive crown and brushing my cock ring. I ached. My balls boiled. Her lips licked my ear. “You will experience ecstasy when you give up control. I will show you pleasures you have never tasted. There is rapture in pain. Bliss in agony.
“Satisfaction in surrender.”
My hand reached out and gripped her right breast. I squeezed, my thumb brushing her hard nipple and piercing. “Then why aren’t you falling to your knees and sucking my cock, slut?”
She screeched. Her fingers squeezed on my dick, her fingernails sharp. Agony shot up my cock mixing with the ecstasy of her touch. I groaned as she stepped back and slashed the flail hard at my body.
Crack!
Burning heat flared across my skin. I felt all nine straps kiss me with agony, striking harder than before. She had held back. Blood oozed down my side. Her hips undulated and she let out a lust-filled moan, her eyes locked on the crimson dribbling down my side.
“Submit and embrace the pain.”
“Enough,” I growled as she swung. I caught her flail and wrenched it from her hands. My dick ached. The pain mixed with the promise of pleasure. My side throbbed with my cock. I cast the flail to the floor and lunged at her.
She danced back, but I was quick. She underestimated how fast my bulk could move. I towered over her, thrusting her against the wall of her cabin between the support beams. The wood groaned and she grunted. Her breasts heaved.
Lust shone in her eyes.
I kissed her lips as one hand seized her breast again. I growled as I squeezed hard on her tit. She shuddered, moaning into the kiss. My other hand ripped at the lacing of her leather britches. I shoved the tight clothing down, my fingers running across her smooth pudenda.
Then I found her shaved heat. Wet lust coated my fingers as I rubbed at her pussy. Her hand found my cock, stroking it, while the other grasped the back of my neck and squeezed, holding me tight to her lips. Her fingernails were long, sharp, biting into my flesh.
Adding pain to the pleasure of her hand stroking my cock.
I thrust two fingers into her cunt. Her molten flesh gripped my digits. She groaned and gasped as I thrust them deep into her. She stroked my dick faster, pressing the tip against her warm belly. Our tongues fenced, each vying to conquer the other.
My fingers found her nipple ring. I tugged on it. Her pussy clenched on my other digits. I probed them deeper, faster, fucking her as she undulated and stroked me. My dick ached. I wanted to be buried in her cunt.
I ripped my fingers from her snatch. She let out a moan into our kiss. My hand, fingers sticky, shoved her britches down farther, rolling them off her hips and down her thighs, letting my cock have access to her cunt.
Her hand guided me to her hot snatch. She rubbed my thick tip against the silky folds of her pussy. She broke the kiss, tossing back her head, and letting out a moan. I let go of her breast, sliding my hand around, pressing between her and the rough wood of the hull. I gripped her ass.
“Fuck me,” she hissed, anger and lust burning in her eyes. “Las-damn your cock. I want it in me. Fuck me!”
“I’ll pound you, whore,” I snarled. Faoril needed me, and I had to waste my time with this bitch.
I thrust my dick hard into her cunt. I sank to the hilt into her hot, tight sheath. Both my hands gripped her ass, squeezing them as I drew back and drove into her again, pressing against the hull. She groaned, rubbing her tits against my chest as she hugged me. Her fingernails raked my back.
Hot pain flared.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she yowled as I pounded her cunt. Her groans echoed through her cabin. Her hips undulated, her leather pants creaking as they bunched around her knees, preventing her from wrapping her thighs about my hips.
She tried.
“Fuck me! Ram that dick into me! I can feel your piercing rubbing on my walls. Pater’s cock, yes! What a dick!”
I fucked her with all my strength. Our flesh slapped together with violence. My fingers clenched hard on her ass. I hoped I bruised her flesh. She only groaned louder as her fingernails clawed my back. Her pussy clenched on my dick. Every thrust burned from the friction. The sweet pleasure rippled down my shaft to my heavy balls.
They swung and struck her flesh with meaty thwacks. I grunted every time I thrust into the damned woman. My hands pulled down on her ass, slamming her against my thrusting groin. She hissed and gasped as I bruised her delicate flesh.
“So hard! Keep ramming that cock into me! Yes! What a cock! Oh, yes! Fuck me! Make me cum!”
The agony screaming in my back shot to the tip of my dick. My hips hammered into her. The pressure swelled in my swinging balls. My cum boiled to a froth. The wood of the hull creaked behind her as I thrust. Her teeth nipped at my neck between her gasps and hisses of pleasure.
Her body stiffened. Her pussy spasmed. Blood trickled down my back as her fingers dug deep into my flesh. The wonderful friction of her cumming snatch massaged my thrusting dick. I grunted, drinking in the rapture of her cunt and the agony of her fingernails. They tore at my back, propelling me to fuck her harder.
“Fucking whore!” I snarled as I drove my cock into her.
“Cum in me!” she hissed. “Spill that mighty cum into me! Pater’s cock, yes!”
I erupted. I growled as my cum poured into her. I kept thrusting, pounding her cunt and shoving her against the rough wood. She trembled and shuddered, hissing through clenched teeth as she kept orgasming, her pussy massaging my cock. The pleasure rushed to my head, crashing through my mind.
Rapture engulfed me. Agony speared through me.
And then it was over. I panted, still pressing her against the wall while she laughed and purred her delight. “Mmm, you are a stud. Can you fuck me that hard again?”
“Yes!” I growled and kissed her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warlock Faoril
Thrak and the captain’s loud passion reached me. I tried to ignore it, to focus at the dark sea, but it touched into me, stirring a traitorous warmth in my pussy. I squirmed my hips, my eyebrows furrowing. I didn’t deserve to feel aroused.
And yet an ache grew in my cunt. The emptiness inside of me needed to be filled. My pussy clenched, eager to be penetrated by a hard, thrusting cock. I groaned and bit my lip, trying to shrug it away.
But it would be so wonderful to replace the emptiness inside me with something. Heaving bodies, spurting fluids, exploding orgasms. Images flared through my mind as I squirmed. Juices trickled down my thighs.
My pussy was such a traitorous hole.
I groaned, turning from the railing and surveying the deck of the Golden Hunger. Few of the crew remained. Several brawny men looked towards the door that led to the cabin, grinning as they listened to their captain’s passion.
Broad shoulders. Strong hands. Hard muscles.
Before I knew what I was doing, I moved to them. My hips swayed. My nipples ached as they rubbed against the fabric of my red robe. I should stop wearing my robe. I was a warlock now, no longer a Journeyman mage. It wasn’t who I was any longer.
While my mind grappled with that new concept, my voice purred, “Mmm, the captain likes her men big. Does she fuck you all?”
“We fuck her,” a Halanian man answered, his skin ebony. “Hard.”
I laughed, such a whorish mirth. Memories of my brief stint as a prostitute flooded me. The emptiness filled only for brief moments by the rutting of flesh. My pussy clenched again as my hand reached out, stroking a strong bicep.
“Yes, I bet you do.”
Their eyes turned to me, considering, examining, stripping away the robe that hid my flesh. They deserved to see my nubile body. Then they would burn to fuck me. Already their cocks were hard, aching for satisfaction. And they wouldn’t care whom satisfied them.
Not even a murderer.
I undid the ties, the robe slid open. My pockets, weighed down with arcane implements, pulled the robe away and bared my round breasts. The men moved around me as they smiled like a pack of wild dogs. They were all taller than me. I loved looking up at their strong chests. I touched a Thlinian’s dusky-red skin, tracing the fading welts.
He had been flogged.
The man groaned at my touch. His hands found my breasts, cupping them. My nipples throbbed. I groaned and undulated my hips, savoring their touch. My pussy grew hotter. Juices trickled out as the Halanian’s dark hands caressed my ivory side, sliding around to find my ass. He squeezed.
I moaned.
“Your captain is such a cruel mistress,” I groaned, “making so much lewd noise and leaving her sailors hard and wanting.”
“So cruel,” the third sailor, a blue-skinned Valyan, groaned. His hand shoved between my thighs. I gasped as he brushed my burning flesh with thick, calloused fingers. “Perhaps you would show us mercy.”
His finger slipped into my pussy, filling the emptiness. “I can be…persuaded,” I panted. “Mmm, and you are doing a fine job convincing me. Your fingers make such sweet arguments.”
“Oh, yeah,” the Valyan grinned and rubbed harder at my pussy. My toes curled and my head tossed back. My breath quickened. My nipples ached.
“Yes,” I panted, leaning against him.
The Halanian squeezed my ass, his thick lips grinning, revealing white teeth flashing amid his ebony flesh. The Thlinian rubbed my nipples, the sensations shooting down my pussy. My robes slipped from my shoulders, falling with a clatter onto the deck, the sea breeze rippling across my naked flesh.
My hands reached out, finding the bulges tenting their linen britches. Thick, hard cocks. Captain Thyrna chose her crew with care. My pussy clenched and my asshole tingled, especially when the Halanian’s fingers probed between my butt-cheeks and brushed my sphincter.
“Yes, yes, you three are very convincing,” I groaned, squeezing a pair of cocks through linen.
I didn’t fight as the three moved my body. My shoes padded on the deck as I shuddered. My nipples ached, and I squealed when the Halanian’s thick thumb shoved into my asshole. My bowels clenched on him as my pussy spasmed about the Valyan’s fingers. They brought me to dark stairs leading into a cargo hold, then they carried me below.
“Fuck me! Fill me with your big, hard cocks,” I moaned, my head swaying, the pleasure banishing Relaria’s yowl.
Lips kissed me in the dark hold while my hands explored masculine bodies. My holes were fucked by fingers while my body was teased and caressed by calloused palms. I fumbled with the lacings of their britches and found their hard cocks, bringing groans as they each took kisses from my lips. My tongue fenced with theirs while my body trembled.
I fell to my knees. My breasts bounced, their fingers slipping out of my holes. Three cocks bobbed before me. In the dim hold, they all appeared similar. I grasped and stroked them as my tongue licked each head, tasting the precum and bringing groans from their lips.
“That’s it, doxy,” the Valyan groaned as my lips engulfed his dick, sucking for a moment. “Mmm, yes. Put that sweet mouth to use.”
I popped it off, “But I need to pleasure all your cocks.”
I sucked on the Halanian’s next. His was the biggest. They said the ebony men of the desert had the largest cocks. I had a notebook full of measurements of male members, and every Halanian dick I sampled was thick, large, and made my pussy clench.
I sucked hard on it, bringing groans from his lips before I left him panting and swallowed the Thlinian’s dick. His salty precum covered my tongue as I bobbed and sucked. Juices slicked my thighs. I needed to be fucked.
“Won’t someone be bold and take me,” I panted between sucks. “I need to be fucked.”
“Slut,” the Thlinian growled.
He moved behind me, grasping my hips in the dark. His dick rubbed on my thighs, questing for my pussy. I moaned, swallowing the Halanian’s dick again, my cheeks hollowing as I sucked and nursed. The Thlinian’s dick found my pussy, tip swirling through my folds.
“Don’t fuck her in the wrong hole, Castor,” laughed the Valyan.
“I think the slut likes it in any hole,” Castor groaned, swabbing his dick through my pussy lips. “Her cunt’s dripping.”
And then his cock moved up. I groaned about the Halanian’s dick as Castor’s wet tip rubbed on my sphincter. I didn’t care what hole he fucked. I just needed to be filled.
I pushed back my hips, pressing the tip of his cock into my sphincter. I moaned again about the Halanian’s dick. He groaned, his hand sliding through my hair. Castor laughed, not thrusting his cock into my depths as I kept fucking my hips back, trying to engulf his shaft with my bowels.
“Slut is desperate to be filled,” he groaned. “She’s like a Lusor girl protecting her maidenhead, eager to be buggered to keep her lover from straying.”
“Fuck my ass,” I gasped, popping my mouth from the Halanian’s dick. “Or my pussy. Just fuck me. Fill my holes.”
“Yes,” the Valyan groaned. He slipped down to the deck, lying on his back. “I’ll take her pussy. You bugger her ass and pretend she’s a Lusor virgin.”
“With pleasure,” Castor groaned, pulling his dick out of my ass so I could straddle the Valyan’s waist.
My pussy dripped with excitement. I sucked on the Halanian’s cock as I lowered myself. The Valyan’s dick prodded at the entrance to my pussy. My flesh ached, throbbing with the need to be filled and fucked.
I slammed my cunt down his shaft, groaning as he filled me. I took him to the hilt, my clit rubbing into his pubic hair. He throbbed inside me and grunted, reaching up to grasp my tits. Behind me, Castor moved in, his dick pressing between my butt-cheeks.
“Gewin’s cock,” he groaned as he probed my crack to find my sphincter. “What a hot cunt the Cap’n found.”
“Yes,” grunted the Halanian, fucking my mouth with his cock.
I didn’t care. I just needed to be filled. Fucked. Used.
Castor thrust. I moaned about the Halanian’s thick cock. My pussy clenched on the Valyan’s dick. Castor filled my ass. Burning pleasure rippled out of my bowels. I spasmed, impaled by three dicks, pleasure bursting inside of me.
And then Castor and the Valyan fucked me.
Bliss soared through me. I gasped and thrashed, my body bouncing between the three men. My tits jiggled in the Valyan’s hands as he thrust his cock into my cunt. Castor slammed down into my ass, matching the Valyan’s rhythm.
They had done this before. They had double-penetrated enough women to know how to move, to thrust their cocks, to give me such wonderful pleasure. Their shafts stirred up rapture from both my holes. I moaned about the Halanian’s thick dick as it pressed into the back of my throat.
“Slut,” he grunted and thrust his dick down my throat. “Seljan’s beard.”
His cock slammed down my throat. I could hardly breathe. I sucked air through my nose while my vision fuzzed. My pleasure increased. My asshole and pussy drank in the thrusting cocks. They stuffed me with rapture.
I came.
The pleasure boiled out my bowels and cunt. The two different flavors of rapture mixed together, churned by their pumping hips. The men grunted, savoring my holes spasming on their cocks while the pleasure rushed through my body to my mind.
I screamed in bliss, my voice muffled by the cock fucking down my throat. The men used me. I was merely a thing to fuck, to satiate their cocks. I shuddered, my pleasure bucking to new heights. I gripped the Halanian’s thighs, clutching him as the world spun around me.
“Fuck, what a slut,” Castor grunted, his groin smacking into my asshole. “Vedr’s queef, she can fuck. Work those hips. Keep thrashing, slut. We’ll give you want you want. We’ll fuck you until you pass out.”
A man chuckled in the darkness. “Yes, we will.”
Other members of the crew were drawn to the debauchery, watching, mere shades in the dim hold. I shuddered, catching glimpses of more hard cocks to fill my body with pleasure. I bucked again, another orgasm crashing through my body. The pleasure boiled my mind.
Castor grunted, burying his shaft into the depths of my asshole. He groaned, squeezing down on me. The cum boiled out of his cock, flooding me. Power birthed inside of me as my body devoured the jizz. My hands clenched on muscular flesh.
Another wonderful, mind-numbing, forgetful orgasm crashed into my thoughts.
“Seljan’s shrewd beard,” groaned the Halanian. His cock drew back until the tip remained. He erupted, flooding my mouth.
I swallowed as I squirmed, my asshole milking Castor’s dick of all his cum. I gulped down the Halanian’s salty load. It coated my throat as it poured down into my stomach, warming my belly. The pleasure gripped my mind.
I hoped it never let go.
“What a slut we’re carrying,” a new pirate groaned as Castor pulled his cock from my asshole. Cum leaked out. My bowels burned from his vigorous thrusts. “What a peach.”
“She’s sweet,” Castor grunted. “Try her out.”
A new cock entered my bowels. I moaned as the Halanian’s dick spurted its final blast. His dick withdrew. Cum ran down my chin. I panted, squirming, grinding on the Valyan’s dick while embracing the shaft reaming my asshole.
“Yes, yes, keep fucking me. Pound me. Use me. Dump your cum in me!”
My voice mixed with the cheers of the pirates. More surrounded me, eager to use me. I sucked a short, fat cock into my mouth as the Valyan erupted into my pussy. I drained his balls as the pleasure roared through my body.
The pirates used me.
Their strong hands rubbed across my skin. Their dicks fucked my holes. Cocks spurted salty seed. It leaked out of me, coating my thighs and butt-cheeks. More leaked down to my breasts. They used me.
Such wonderful pleasure consumed me.
It never stopped, just spilled from one man to another. My body moved and bucked, drinking in every drop of bliss. I gasped and shuddered. I swallowed every mouthful of jizz. I rubbed their spunk into my tits like it was the finest scented unguent. The salty musk filled my nose. My hair grew sticky and matted.
And they kept fucking me. Their balls were vast reservoirs feeding me salty jizz. My pussy and asshole ached. My jaw grew sore from sucking their cocks while my nipples throbbed from their rough fingers pinching and pulling.
I drank it all in as they drenched me.
And the pleasure. Such sweet pleasure filled me. There was room for nothing else.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Minx
I was too excited to sleep. I perched on the bow sprint, the long spar thrusting from the front of the ship, my legs wrapped tight about it as I stared at Raratha. It glowed with its many watch towers, the Saltspray palace a jewel atop the cliff.
“I did it, Fox,” I whispered to my dead sister. I hoped she was watching me from the Astral Realm, proud of her little sister. “I plundered the Great Vault.”
I chortled again. I kept speaking to her as I remembered all those years dreaming of a big heist, of escaping Raratha and living like queens. It was in my grasp. I heard the full plan from Angela tonight, all the places we would have to go, all the wonders I would see, culminating at the Altar of Souls where Faoril would reforge the sword.
And there I would steal it. The biggest con. I would purloin it out from under all their noses. The hardest to escape would be Xera. What a chase she would give.
My hips undulated, grinding my clit through my leather britches into the spar’s rough wood. My pussy clenched and my nipples ached. Xera would chase me. I would have to be cunning and quiet to escape her.
What a challenge it would be.
“You are happy,” Xera purred.
“Of course I’m happy,” I grinned, telling the truth mixed with a lie, “I’m going to have to outwit, sneak, and steal on our adventure.” I bounced on the spar, my clit throbbing as I gazed at Xera’s large, naked breast.
The elf’s custom of going nude appealed to me. My eyes glanced down to her crotch. Her cock hadn’t sprouted. Yet. I was eager for it. I wish I knew how Adel made her dick sprout when she wanted. I pictured the redheaded elf who started me on this plan to steal the High King’s Sword. I was her inside thief in the party.
She would be lucky if I shared any of the prize with her.
We were heading to Baraconia, where Fox and I hailed. I would have to look up Rosaria, an alchemist I knew growing up. I needed replacements for the supplies we used in breaking into the Vault, and I bet she could whip up a formula to make an elf’s dick sprout.
Perhaps that was how Adel did it?
“Now you are thinking of something really naughty,” Xera said, leaning her butt against the railing and staring at me.
“It’ll be a surprise,” I told her. “I think you’ll like it. But I have to see someone in Baraconia to get it.”
Her ears twitched. The four-leafed clover, a gift from the fairy princess we rescued from the Vault, moved, golden specs glittering in the starlight. She was a pretty elf with such big boobs. I bet I could loose myself in them.
It would be a shame to betray Xera, but the chase will be such fun.
“You should try to find some sleep,” the elf said. “Even if the rocking of the boat makes it difficult.”
“Is that why you rose?”
“That and the moans.”
I giggled. Thrak and Thyrna had been in the cabin all night while Faoril entertained the entire crew below. Those two had stamina. I had masturbated twice listening to them. “They are going at it hard.”
“No, Angela’s moans. She’s seasick.”
“Oh, poor thing. Halflings don’t get seasick. Why we make such great sailors.”
“And because of your nimble fingers?” the elf asked.
I winked at her.
She slipped down onto the decking and yawned. “The sun is rising. We’ll be sailing to Baraconia soon.”
“If Faoril hasn’t drained all the sailors dry.”
Xera smiled.
I slipped off the spar. The eastern horizon lightened, touches of fiery pink spreading wide. I hadn’t ever watched the sun rise before. I stretched my back and stared at the growing brightness as Xera’s eyes closed and her breathing slowed.
We would have quite the adventure. And I would be so rich at the end of it. I would own a palace in Baraconia and have a harem of male halflings to please me. All the women would be jealous that I monopolized our few males.
And maybe Xera would track me down. Then we could have more fun. Maybe with a harem of hermaphroditic nixies and elves instead of halfling males.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Doge Aurelius – The Free City of Raratha
My eyes were weighed by exhaustion as I strolled into my audience chamber. The word had spread across the city during the night. The call for bounty hunters, freebooters, and adventures rippled through the wine shops, taverns, and vice dens. The first of those seeking Angela’s bounty had arrived. All night my scribes had penned the contracts, my signature scrawled across them.
They entered. I trembled as I stared at the motley collection. Five of them, six counting the lamia slavegirl, each strutting or swaggering. My eyes flicked across them, studying them. Some were promising. Others not.
Fredagest led the way, the gnome bowing with a flourish when she paused before my seat. Though she was half the height of a human, the alchemist was the finest bounty hunter in the city. Her face, the deep-brown of rich loam, smiled at me when she straightened, her goggles perched on her brow. She was an alchemist, and the bandoleer drapped diagonally across her chest held dozens of vials containing all manner of substances while a fine cloak of gray hung off her shoulders.
“Your Excellency.”
“Fredagest, I should have known you would answer the bounty.”
“It’s so much,” she smiled. “I could not resist.”
My eyes turned to the efreet next. He glowered at me, his crimson arms folded before him. The air rippled about his body, waving his flaming-orange hair atop his head. Rising above the demigod’s shoulders were the handles to a pair of bronze tulwars strapped to his back.
“And you?”
“Hakeem,” he grunted then gave me the slightest bow.
“And I am Bebhinn,” the red-haired, pale-faced woman said, dressed in colorful scarves tied about her body. A Tuathan from the Lesh-Ke mountains, her face soft and sensual, though her green eyes were flint.
“A twinborn witch?” I asked, hopeful.
“Aye, excellency. My spirits will hound these miscreants down.”
I nodded in agreement then turned to the hulking man in black-lacquered plate, his face dusky-olive, his black hair gathered into a topknot. A Shizhuthian warlord from the foul naga empire to the east. He held a chain in his left hand, the pitted links leading to the naked lamia kneeling at his feet, a collar about her throat. Her tail twitched and swayed as she knelt.
She reminded me of poor, dead Relaria, my lamia bard. Relaria had once been a lamian slave before she escaped the Shizhuth Empire.
“And you are?” I asked, ignoring the effrontery of the slave in the Free City of Raratha. Angela was more important.
“Farson,” the man answered. “I’ll bring back her head.”
I opened my mouth to object, preferring Angela to be alive, and then noticed the way his shadow shifted. A shadowmancer? “Good,” I instead said, my mouth growing dry. The serpent arts of Shizhuth were rumored to be powerful.
The last one was the least impressive, a naked elf, flaming curls spilling about her shoulders. “Adeliatholaria, your Excellency. Of the Ten-it Forest. No one tracks as well as I can. I’ll find your fugitives even if they fled across the sea.”
“You’re that good?” I asked.
“Better,” she grinned. Well, she had confidence.
“Sign,” I said, motioning to my servants. “You will be bound to Raratha, agents in my name, envoys under my protection. Do what you must to bring me Angela, her companions, and my stolen possessions. Particularly the pommel stone she has. I prefer alive, but dead will suffice.”
I smiled at the greed shining in their eyes, even the lamia slavegirl grinned, flashing sharp teeth. They would find Angela and bring her back for justice.
Or her head.
To be continued…
