The World of Erasthay
The Knight and the Acolyte Book Six: Heart’s Longing
Chapter Two: Dirty Mage
© Copyright 2016
Story Codes: Male/Female, Female/Female, Fantasy, Magic, Drug, Anal, Domination/Submission, Exhibitionism, Oral Sex
For a list of all The Knight and the Acolyte, other World of Erasthay stories, maps, and glossaryclick here
Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as it’s
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.
Click here for Chapter 1.
Note: Thanks to b0b for beta reading this!
Journeyman Faoril – The Golden Hunger, the Nimborgoth
The spurt of hot cum into my pussy triggered another orgasm. It was a small one do to my exhaustion. I had cum so many, many times this night, letting pirate after pirate fuck me. Use me. The pirate atop me grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head. I stroked his pectoral muscles as my cunt spasmed about his dick, milking out his cum, joining the dozens of other loads that had emptied into me.
Filling me with degrading seed.
“Vedr’s queef,” the pirate groaned and rolled off of me. “You drained me, wench. Every drop.”
“Drained all of us,” a drowsy man muttered.
I lay on my back in the hold of the pirate ship, staring up at the dark ceiling. The Golden Hunger rocked in the Nimborgoth’s swell, creaking and groaning. My hand idly caressed my body. Everywhere I touched I felt cum drying. The crew of the pirate ship had drenched me.
I was dirty, filthy. Relaria’s yowls screeched through my mind again. I grit my teeth and forced myself to sit up. My head swam. Exhaustion pulled on me. I needed to be filled again. I was so empty inside.
But I had worn out all the pirates. I fell back on the floor, too exhausted to move, to cry.
“Pater’s mighty cock!” screamed Capitan Thyrna as I rammed my dick into the tight glove of her asshole. My dick ached. I had not used it so much in such a short time, fucking her over and over for hours. Dawn approached. Not even as a youth, when I discovered the joys of self-gratification, had I cum so many times in a night.
“Las-damned damiana,” I cursed, slamming my dick into her bowels. It kept me hard even as I reamed the beautiful and passionate pirate captain’s ass. Her wavy-black hair spilled across her dark-brown, supple back. She arched into me, her bowels gripping my abused cock.
“I thought you were a warrior,” she hissed, throwing a fierce look over her face. “Fuck me! Show me that orc passion!”
My hands tightened on her hips. My hips thrust forward. She had doused me with damiana paste, an aphrodisiac alchemists were fond of making, sometime past midnight. Such lusts it inflamed, driving me to keep fucking her. She couldn’t dominate me with whips or her sharp fingernails.
But she could dominate my cock with trickery.
My thrusts were hard. Sweat rolled down my body, stinging the welts from her cat o’ nine tails and the scratches from her fingernails. I ignored the pain and the ache in my dick as I slammed into her bowel’s velvety grip. My balls smacked into her taint.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she hissed. “Give it to me. Mmm, I own every cock on my ship.”
“Las-damned whore!” My hand cracked down on her ass, leaving a burning, red print glowing amid her golden-brown skin.
“Yes!” she yowled, her ass clenching on my cock. “Yes, yes! Fuck me! Gods, your cock! A treasure! Stay on my ship. Reeve and pillage with me! Ooh, the fun we would have.”
A snarl curled my pierced lips. I spanked her ass again.
Her orgasm burst through her. She tossed back her head as she came, her bowels spasming on my cock. I groaned, savoring the grip. She massaged me, working my dick, begging my balls for a final load of cum.
They spasmed and tightened. Agony gripped them that merged into the rapturous friction gripping my cock. My back arched as I drove into her ass faster, harder. I didn’t care how sore the tip of my dick was or how much my balls burned. Ecstasy awaited me.
“Gewin’s mighty cock and balls!” I bellowed.
“Yes, yes, give it to me,” she hissed. “Shower me in your lusts!”
“Shower?” I ripped my cock out of her bowels and fisted it. The tip of my swarthy cock was angry red. My balls tightened. A painful rush shot up my cock. “Las-damned whore!”
My cum erupted out the tip. Each blast was a mix of sore agony and rapturous pleasure. My jizz splashed across her side and shoulders before landing on her face. She hissed as I grunted, squeezing out another blast to splatter her face.
“You las-damned savage!” she hissed as my final blast fired and splashed into her mouth. She spat the cum out, glaring at me.
I seized her black hair and pulled her to my cock, wiping the tip off in her hair, matting the dark curls with jizz. The ache shuddering through my dick, particularly when her hair tangled on my bone cock ring, was worth the spitting fury. She kept me from seeing to Faoril all night.
My lover hurt.
“Get out!” she spat, jizz dripping off her face.
“You look good with a male’s seed dripping on your face,” I laughed and picked up my kilt. I pulled it on as she wiped her face off on her sheets.
“You’ll pay for that, Thrak,” she hissed, her smile turning into a violent promise. “Ooh, I will make you pay.”
“You can try,” I said and strapped my great axe to my back. “Anytime you want a facial, just ask.”
She screeched at me as I walked out of her cabin. I needed to find Faoril. A short hallway led out to the deck. Four doors lined the passageway, the smaller cabins for passengers. I opened the first door and found Chaun sleeping on a hammock. I closed the door and tried the second.
“Hmm?” a sleepy Sophia asked as I peered in. She blinked at me as her hammock swung. Angela lay sprawled on the other, lying on her stomach, her arm dangling off the side.
“Just looking for Faoril,” I answered.
Sophia mumbled something unintelligent and then fell back onto her hammock. I tried not to ogle her naked breasts. I knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. I closed the door and tried the last two, but both were empty.
Frowning, I stepped onto the deck and almost ran into Minx. The halfling stretched her back as she looked up at me, her eyes bleary. “You look as tired as I feel, Orc.”
“Captain Thyrna tested your stamina.” A mischievous grin crossed her lips. “I see she took the lash to you.”
“Tried to.” My eyes swept the deck. In the bow, Xera sat cross-legged, her eyes closed as she leaned back against the railing. The first rays of the rising sun caught the top of her dark-green hair, picking out individual strands.
Faoril’s red robes lay in the middle of the deck, discarded. My stomach twisted. “Where’s Faoril?”
“Below deck,” Minx said. “I think she fucked every sailor on the Golden Hunger four times. They were at it all night. That girl really loves cocks.”
“And cum,” I muttered.
“She’s your lover, right? Maybe she didn’t like you fucking the captain all night.”
“She’s a mage. Female mages are all cum-sluts.” And maybe it was good. Maybe she would be in a better mood after being gangbanged. “You should find your bed.”
“Uh-huh,” Minx nodded and yawned again. “Couldn’t sleep all night, too excited from the robbery, and then the sun rose and BAM! I can hardly keep ’em open.”
The halfling padded around me and through the door to the cabins. I marched out into the center of the deck and scooped up Faoril’s robes. The pockets clinked, each weighed down by her arcane supplies. Her robe had a dozen or more pockets for her to secret small items in. Frowning, I walked down into the dark hold.
The reek of cum assaulted my nose. It was overpowering. So much jizz stained the air. Dark forms lay slumped across the floor, snoring, all naked men. And at the center, my Faoril lay on her back, her body almost white from the crusty spunk staining her. A puddle formed between her thighs, oozing out of her pussy.
“Well, you must have gathered enough cum to last you a month.”
Faoril’s eyes opened. “I guess.” Her words were dull, slurred. Her eyes bleary. She yawned and sat up. “I’m filthy.”
I nodded my head. “Yeah, being gangbanged by a crew of pirates will do that.”
She nudged one with her foot.
He groaned and opened his eyes. “You drained me, wench. Ain’t got nothin’ left fer you.”
“I need to bathe.”
“Can’t use the fresh water,” he said. “But I can pull you up some buckets of saltwater. Least I could do after we all drenched you.” He laughed and glanced at me. “That’s one wild woman you travel with. Suspect you know.”
“I know.” I studied Faoril. “But you can just use your magic to clean yourself, Faoril.”
She waved a hand at me as she forced herself to stand. A flood of cum poured out of her pussy and down her thighs. “Salt-waters fine. Too tired to use magic.”
Faoril stumbled to me. Even her hair was soiled. Her brown locks were matted and tangled. Streaks of dried cum silvered her locks. More flaked off as she tottered past me. I grabbed her as she almost fell.
She wrenched her arm from me.
“Faoril?” I frowned.
“I’m fine. Just need bath and sleep.”
My eyebrows furrowed as I followed her up the stairs to the deck. More cum leaked out of her ass, making a mess of her crack. She made it on deck and almost fell again as the ship pitched on a swell. The mast swayed above us.
“Vedr’s queef,” cursed the sailor who followed us. “Dawn’s up. Gonna be a long-cursed day.”
Faoril made it to the railing and sank down while the sailor fetched a wooden bucket and attached it to a length of rope. I sank down beside her, leaned on the railing, and studied her. She pulled her legs up, her breasts pressing into her thighs as she rested her chin on her knees.
“What happened in the palace?”
She glanced at me, her light-brown eyes dull. “Fought a master mage. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“But what else?” It had to be more than her fear of being branded a warlock and sentenced to death by the Magery Council. She was a fearless woman. It was deeper, darker. “You didn’t kill him?”
“No.” Her word was short, clipped. “He lived.”
“When we finish the quest and slay the dragon, the council will understand why you did it. Besides, he attacked you.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She glanced at her red robes. “I’m not a mage any longer. I’m a warlock. I don’t even have to wear this. I can wear what I want.”
“You’re still a mage.” I reached out to put an arm around her but she shied away.
“I’m filthy, Thrak.”
“I don’t mind,” I answered. “It’s mostly dried anyways.”
The sailor dropped the bucket of seawater before her. Some sloshed over the rim. She seized it, grunting beneath its weight, and dumped the water over her head. It flowed over her, washing across her naked flesh and spilling on the deck. A salty scent caught my nose.
Then she grabbed the sleeve of her robe and rubbed at herself. “I’ll need more.”
“Sure, sure,” the sailor said and pitched it over.
It took three more buckets to clean her. I watched her, studying her, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. She was hurting. I wanted to hold her, but she kept claiming to be filthy when I tried, then she would scrub at her body harder with the sleeve of her robe.
Finally she stood dripping, water beading on her skin and flashing like diamonds in the rising sun. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath as her hands ran through her wet hair, squeezing out the excess.
“Faoril, please, talk—”
“I need sleep,” she muttered and walked past me without a word.
I caught her arm and yanked her around. “No, we need to—”
She slapped me. It hardly stung, she weighed so little she couldn’t put much energy into her slaps even if she stood properly. I blinked anyways. “Let me go!” She jerked her arm. “I’m fine, Thrak. Stop asking me.”
I let her go. She stalked across the deck, leaving wet footprints on the pine-yellow planks. Then she crashed through the door to the cabins. It banged shut behind her. My cheek burned. Despite the light tap, it hurt more than the welts and scratches decorating my body.
“Biaute’s tits, what did you do to piss her off?” the sailor asked.
I glared at him.
The sailor raised his hands and backed off. I turned to the sea, my brows furrowing. Something terrible had happened in the palace. Something she was forced to do. What? How could I help her? I leaned on the railing, watching the waves as the sun inched higher and higher, painting swells with caps of gold.
“What is going on?” a sleepy Sophia muttered. “Who’s banging doors?”
“Faoril,” I answered, glancing over my shoulder as the acolyte tottered to me.
She blinked and rubbed sleep from her eyes. “What did the Captain do to you, Thrak? You look like you tumbled through a prickleberry patch.”
“Captain has sharp claws.”
She reached the railing and leaned on it. “We heard. Between you and the captain and Faoril entertaining the entire crew it was hard to get any sleep. And I finally get it and…bang!” She smacked her hand on the railing then winced, shaking her hand. “Why’s Faoril slamming doors?”
“What did she do in the palace last night?”
“I don’t know. She was summoned away from the party before we were attacked. She didn’t want to talk about it after she returned. We were all reeling at how it went wrong.” Sophia sighed. “Still am reeling. I’m a fugitive now. The daughter of a Duchess. My mother will be furious at the scandal this causes. And poor Angela… She sees herself as something good and positive, and robbing a Doge and taking him hostage, well…”
I nodded my head.
“And you’re hurt,” Sophia gasped, shoving a hand into her pocket. “I have a vial here. Let me make you a healing potion.”
“Thrak,” she said, shaking her head even as she opened her robes, “you are covered in scratches and welts. Stop being such an orc and let me heal you.”
A snorting laugh escaped my lips. “I remember when you were afraid of me.”
“I did think you were dangerous.” A smile played on her lips. “I get things wrong a lot. But Angela sees things right. She’s special that way.” Sophia bit her lip then muttered beneath her breath, “Queen’s concubine.”
“The sphinx called me that last night,” she said when she opened her robe. “A concubine fit for a queen. Everyone seems to think Angela getting a sword is bad because they fear she’ll try to claim her ancestor’s throne.” Her pink nipple popped into sight, hard atop her small breast. “She doesn’t want that. Yet, why couldn’t a woman rule?”
“Pater rules in heaven, so men rule on earth,” I quoted.
She circled her nipple then froze, her eyes widened. “Turn around. Don’t look at my tits, Thrak!”
I laughed again and turned, but my mirth quickly died as Sophia spoke her prayer and invoked her Goddess’s power. I gripped the railing with my left hand as I puzzled out how to help Faoril. I needed the right words to break through her melancholy.
It was hard to think. My thoughts were sluggish from lack of sleep and my exertions with the captain. After I downed Sophia’s milky potion, the magic soothing the burning scratches and welts, I sought a cabin. I didn’t go into the one Faoril went into. I needed to think.
I stretched myself out on the second hammock in Chaun’s cabin. The ropes creaked and, for a heart beat, I feared my bulk was too great to be supported by the netting of the swaying hammock.
But they held and sleep fell upon me. Before it claimed me, I wished Serisia’s spirit was still with me.
She would know how to help Faoril.
My eyes opened. The hammock creaked. I blinked and yawned, then glanced to my right. Thrak slept, arms folded across his chest. I had not expected him to sleep here. I groaned, my back sore from sleeping on the hammock.
I rolled out of the swaying hammock and opened my troubadour’s chest. It was a remarkable object. I wooed a twinborn witch, a wanderer like myself, and she made it for me. It could shrink to fit in my pocket or expand to the size of an average traveling chest. And inside it had far more space. I didn’t understand the magics that created it, but it let me carry a vast wardrobe wherever I went.
I needed to be ready to change clothing to fit a wide variety of body sizes and social classes. But today, I went as my normal appearance, slim and tall. I dug around until I found a gold-trimmed, blue doublet and matching hose with a spectacular codpiece. The pattern of gold filaments always attracted a lady’s eye and set her imagination galloping as she wondered on what it contained.
Dressed, I headed onto deck. The captain had emerged, looking beautiful and remote as she barked orders at her sluggish crew. The large men spilled naked or hardly dressed from below deck—Faoril had worn them out.
What a woman to handle so many big men.
“Morning, Captain,” I smiled, fixing her a bow.
She gave me only a contemptuous snort. Most women found me innately attractive in my regular appearance, but the captain had a type, and it wasn’t slim, elfin men with faces verging on beautiful. She liked her men big, hairy. Every one of her crew had barrel chests and broad shoulders, and the way she looked at them was possessive.
But which man did she fancy? I stared at her, my psychic senses reaching out. Every woman in the world had someone in her past or present whom she loved if she didn’t love anyone in the present. It would be a man whose appearance I could transform into and seduce the women. I preferred married women—they always shone with a white aura, attracting me with the urge to seduce them and impregnate them while wearing their husband’s faces—but even a single woman had her charm.
No man appeared in my mind. No lover from her past. No one who she loved now. Even Sophia, a lesbian to her core, had once had a childish crush on a groom when she was a sweet, young maid. I had never met a woman of a duel-sexed raced that I couldn’t affect. And the captain was human.
Or she appeared to be human.
She had never loved before. Was that possible? I scanned the deck. Xera sat cross-legged, asleep in the bow while Sophia bent over the railing, her laughter occasionally rising over the creak of sails as the pirate crew worked in the rigging. The ship lurched, the breeze catching in the sails, taking us south to the Island of Birds.
I moved to Sophia. She stared at a pod of dolphins frolicking around the ship, their sleek, gray bodies breaking the surface, their nickering songs echoing. Delight played on her youthful face as she clapped her hands.
“Oh, they’re as beautiful as the tales,” she smiled. “Aren’t they, Chaun?”
I nodded my head. “The captain’s not human.”
“Oh?” Sophia frowned, glancing at Captain Thyrna as she strolled the stern deck, hissing orders. “What is she?”
“Does it matter?”
I shrugged again.
“You’re a lot of help.”
I shrugged a third time.
Sophia punched me in the shoulder. We both laughed as I rubbed where she hit. She leaned on the railing, smiling at the dolphins as they swam along the ship, playing in the spray from the bow as it knifed through the waters.
I studied her profile. “When did you start liking me?”
“When you risked your life to stop the dwarf queen. I think. But I did know you were hiding something.” She grinned at me. “It was so obvious.”
I winced. “Was it?”
She nodded her head. “But Lady Delilah… You really have no idea what she plans?”
“Nor why she gave Angela that necklace or why that Fireeyes had its twin. I only know the Warlock from stories.”
Sophia sighed and rested her head on the railing. “Something more is going on than just this Quest. My Goddess visits me in my dreams sometimes. She doesn’t just do that for anyone.”
“You’re hardly anyone, Sophia.”
She snorted. “I was the worst acolyte at the temple. A spoiled brat using my mother’s power and wealth to escape my responsibilities.”
“You’re special,” I nodded. “I can see it. You’ll be remembered in songs, Sophia. The acolyte at the fugitive knight’s side, with her from the beginning until the end when she slays the dragon.”
“And when she’s queen,” Sophia whispered. “Her concubine.”
“That would be a great story.” A smile crossed my lips. “An epic song that requires only the best bard to pen it.”
Sophia laughed. “Who would that be?”
“You wound me,” I sighed tragically, and then we laughed together. It felt wonderful after last night.
I woke to swaying, my stomach rumbling. The entire boat moved and rolled. I groaned as I sat up. My head ached. I swung my feet off my hammock and forced myself to dress in my armor. I was still a knight in spirit even if my actions at the Saltspray Palace would see my spurs taken and my name stricken from the rolls, attainted.
I would kill the dragon. I had come this far already. I had suffered, bled, and fought. I had two pieces of my ancestor’s sword. Two-fifths of the weapon complete. And we had the adamantium, recovered at great danger from the abandoned dwarf mines. We would soon have the third piece. The Captain said we would arrive at the Island of Birds around evening.
I adjusted my stance as the ship rocked beneath me. Sunlight streamed through the small, round window in the cabin. I think it was called the porthole. I glanced out it, but all I saw was endless blue, the water rippling in the sunshine.
I left my cabin and walked out into the deck. The sun was low on the horizon. A few hours passed dawn and…I frowned. The sun was on my right, but if we sailed south, that meant my right was west. So the sun was setting not rising. I blinked.
“There you are, sleepyhead,” Sophia called. “I was fearing you wouldn’t wake up.”
“Well, I was up all last night emptying my stomach,” I said. My stomach growled. No wonder I felt empty. An entire day spent in bed.
“There’s food down below. Ask one of the sailors.” She grimaced. “It’s fish stew and it’s not great.”
“It’s better than nothing,” I smiled.
Sophia shrugged her shoulders.
Chaun sat near her, strumming his lyre and singing a festive song which had the pirate crew moving around with a jaunt in their step. Minx giggled and danced before him, her little hips shaking while Xera sat cross-legged and watched. Thrak was in the bow, staring at the sea.
“She’s sleeping longer than you,” Sophia answered. “Well, she did fuck the entire crew last night.” Her smile slipped. “Thrak’s worried about her.”
“Because she fucked the entire crew?”
Sophia shook her head. “He thinks she’s hurting from fighting the mage last night.”
I frowned and then my stomach rumbled. I had to eat. I could hardly blame Faoril for being down. All her dreams were snatched away. She would be branded a warlock just as I would be branded a knave. Both of us would be expelled from our organizations, labeled fugitives and criminals.
I pushed away those thoughts as I descended into the hold. It smelled of musty sex and needed airing out. I found the galley where a greasy-stained pirate ladled me a large bowel of thick, brown stew with chunks of white fish and indeterminate vegetables floating in it. It was salty. I almost gagged with my first bite, but I forced myself to chew and swallow.
I did get a curious fruit called an orange to go with it. Once I cracked through the hard rind, the juicy pulp inside melted in my mouth. It washed away all the bad taste of stew and left my belly feeling full.
My fingers and lips sticky, I headed on deck. The breeze blew my red hair, wafting it about my head. I breathed in the salt smell as I walked to Sophia as she leaned on the right—starboard—railing. Her white robes pressed to the curves of her ass as she wiggled her hips.
A hot itch rushed through me. Last night, she had stayed up caring for me with my seasickness and feeding me her enchanted breast milk. She was such a wonderful person. And so beautiful. Her brown hair fluttered about her head, playing on the curve of her neck.
A pale neck. A kissable neck.
My armor clinked as I strolled across the deck. She glanced beside me and pointed ahead of the ship. A dark shape rose on the horizon, a cone thrusting into the air, hazy purple, its flanks darker, touched with green.
Mount Peritito thrusting above the Nimborgoth from the heart of the Island of Birds. A volcano. I stared at the summit. Clouds covered the tip, dark and angry. Or was it smoke belching from the mountain’s core? I hoped the Temple of Fire, where the avian shamans had hidden the piece of my ancestor’s sword, had not been disturbed by any eruptions.
“It’s huge,” Sophia said, squirming as I wrapped my arms around her. Her ass pressed into my chainmail loincloth, the metal links brushing my clit.
Pleasure sparked through me.
“Yes, it is,” I moaned, my nipples hardening beneath my breastplate, rubbing on the cool metal. I leaned in and kissed Sophia’s neck. “Big and huge, thrusting out of the sea.”
“Ooh, don’t talk about it like it’s a giant cock,” Sophia groaned. “It’s a big breast, sweeping upward, topped by a lactating nipple.”
“Like your nipples?” I asked, my hand sliding up her robe to cup her breasts through it. “Pink and bursting with white milk.”
“Yes,” she groaned, shifting more. “Are you feeling better? Your stomach settled?”
“Yes,” I whispered, kissing her neck again. She tasted so wonderful. My hands tightened on her tits.
“That’s good,” she groaned, arching her neck, giving me access. I licked up to her ear. I nibbled and flicked it while her nipples hardened beneath the cloth of her robes. I pinched them through it, bringing a shuddering moan from her lips. “Mmm, we could try to make love in the hammocks. It might be fun.”
“Might,” I purred and slid my right hand down her robe. I found the ties. “But it’s so beautiful out here.”
She stiffened in my arms as the cloth ties whisked together, the knot coming undone. Her robe fell loose. “Angela? There are men around.”
“We’ve made love before Thrak and Chaun.”
“I don’t like it,” she whispered. “But they’re part of our group. The pirates are strangers.”
My pussy clenched. A hot thrill ran through me. My hands shoved into her open robe to caress her naked body directly. I slid up and down her flesh, brushing her shaved pubic mound and the bottom swells of her small breasts.
“Slave, if I order you to parade naked around the ship, you will do it.”
“Of course, Mistress,” she shuddered, her voice so sweet. “But…please don’t. All those men. It would be so embarrassing.”
My pussy clenched. Juices leaked out. My right hand found her tit. I squeezed it as I nibbled on her neck. “Mmm, it would make me so wet, slave. I want you to walk slowly around the deck. Let them see your lovely body. Be graceful, proud. You are a beautiful woman.”
“Your concubine,” groaned Sophia.
I liked that word. “Yes. My concubine.”
Sophia shuddered, her shoulders wiggling, the robe sliding off her flesh. “I’m am ever your obedient concubine…my Queen.”
Queen… I liked this new game.
The robes landed on the deck between our feet, her ivory flesh exposed. Her brown hair fell about her shoulders, her curvy ass begged to be squeezed. She turned, her small tits bouncing, her nipples so hard. I smiled at the gleam slicking her thighs.
Embarrassed or not, submitting to my commands and parading her flesh made her wet.
Every last pirate stared at me. All those big, ugly, brawny, stupid men leered at my exposed flesh. Their eyes hungered. Their rough hands clenched. They wanted to touch me, grab me, fuck me. But I wasn’t theirs. I was Angela’s. My Mistress’s. My Queen’s.
I was her concubine. Her devoted slave.
My pussy clenched as the rush of embarrassed heat surged through my body. I groaned and bit my lip. My nipple ached as I forced myself to turn, wearing only my soft leather shoes and woolen socks. I took a deep breath, so aware of my hard nipples and bouncing breasts.
I walked slowly, stately, my back straight. I would not bow before the gaze of these men. I would please my mistress. I stared straight ahead, calm, poised. I was the daughter of Duchess Catherine of Tith, an acolyte of the Goddess Saphique, the concubine-slave to my Queen.
“What a scrumptious catch,” a sailor called. “Biaute’s tits, look at her.”
“It’d be worth Saphique’s curse to enjoy her flesh.”
My cheeks reddened and my ears burned.
“I hear Saphique’s virgins have the tightest cunt. Bet she would squeal on my big sticker.”
“What ’bout her ass. Such a tight, sweet ass. Her goddess wouldn’t mind if we took a poke there. She’d still be virgin. Near enough.”
“I think you’re right.”
Juices trickled out of my pussy as my heart labored. Danger swirled around me. My oaths to stay pure were threatened but I kept walking. I reached the port railing and turned, following its sweep, trying to ignore the words spilling out of the rigging.
“What if you just sucked my prick? Promise not to spill my seed in your mouth. Just a quick suck.”
“You fire off the moment those sweet lips wrapped around your twig.”
“So would you.”
“Aye, she’s got a sweet mouth. A cock-sucking mouth.”
I forced myself not to wet my dried lips. I would not encourage them. I swept past Chaun, a large grin on the changeling’s face as he ogled me. Minx laughed and danced around me, her hands grabbing my butt-cheeks.
“She does have a great ass,” the halfling chortled, her small hands pulling my cheeks apart. “Shame none of you men can do this.”
I almost jumped when her tongue swiped across my sphincter. But I kept my poise and marched straight-back, obeying my Queen’s command. Angela watched me, her blue eyes hungry, her thighs pressed together.
As much as being forced to walk naked before all these men excited me, they made my mistress drip. Her lusts were so obvious. She bit her lip and squirmed when I reached the bow. Thrak did not look up from his brooding as I swept passed him.
“Ooh, look at those titties bounce. I would love to suck on her nipples.”
“I hear a priestess can produce milk like a mother. I would love to suckle from those teats. Come on, just give us a taste.”
“Vedr’s queef, I want a piece of that cunt.”
“That knight would cut off your balls if Saphique didn’t shrivel them.”
I nodded my head. My Queen would.
My eyes were locked on Angela now as I walked the starboard railing to my mistress. My pussy burned. Juices ran down my thighs. I had such a hot cunt. I wanted to shove my hands between my thighs and frig myself to an orgasm.
But I had self-control.
Angela nodded her head, imperious, when I reached her. Then I fell to my knees before her, staring up at my Mistress, my body quaking as desires tumbled through me. “Did I please you, my Queen?”
“Yes, you did,” she answered, her voice throaty. She ran a hand through my brown hair. “You more than pleased me.”
“Do you need the satisfaction of my lips?”
She nodded once.
I closed my eyes, so aware of all the men watching us, and lifted her metal loincloth, exposing her shaved lips beading with juices and engorged with her passion. I breathed in her tangy musk. I could shower in her scent. Revel in it.
I pressed my lips into her pussy and licked. My thighs clamped tight, caressing my clit, as my tongue slid through her folds, teasing her engorged labia. Angela let out the softest sigh, her hips undulating as the pleasure rippled through her.
“Mmm, my sweet concubine,” she sighed as I licked again.
My hands stroked her thighs above her boots, caressing her sleek skin as my tongue moved. The chainmail was cold on my cheek, the links rough. I didn’t care. I closed my eyes and concentrated on pleasing Angela.
The coarse words of the pirates faded. They didn’t matter. Only pleasing my Queen mattered.
My tongue flicked faster and faster, flying through her folds, giving her such sweet pleasure. Her hips undulated. She ground on me. Her clit throbbed against my lips. I nibbled on it, bringing sharp gasps of bliss from her while my fingers massaged her thighs, touching her, caressing her, giving her another sensation.
“You little slut, yes,” groaned Angela. “Worship my cunt.”
My clit throbbed between my thighs. I could bring myself to orgasm, but I was here to please Angela, not myself. I nibbled on her clit and sucked on it. The little organ throbbed as she bucked. Her moans were so sweet. Her back arched, the afternoon sun flashing off the curves of her breastplate.
My hands moved up her thighs, reaching for pussy. She shivered as my fingers massaged around her vulva, caressing the engorged flesh. She was plump with excitement. I sucked harder on her clit and let my tongue piercing bat the little nub while my fingers parted her labia.
I smiled, my fingers teasing her folds. I caressed her labia minora before I let my fingers dip into her pussy’s hole. I teased her, sliding them in and pulling them out, loving the way her moans sang from her lips. I brought her closer and closer to the brink of her orgasms.
Then I backed off.
Angela let out a frustrated hiss, trembling above me. Her fingers tightened in my hair, forcing my lips to suck on her clit. I teased her nub, flicking it with my tongue while my fingers kept dipping and retreating from her pussy hole. I gaged her pleasure, sensing her orgasm building in her. She trembled, on the cusp.
I pulled my fingers back. My tongue stopped playing with her clit.
“Make me cum,” she hissed.
“Yes, my Queen.”
I jammed three fingers into her pussy’s depths. My tongue piercing battered her clit over and over. I fingered her faster, her pussy clenching and relaxing on my digits as they churned her depths. Frothy pussy juices coated my fingers while she bucked and gasped.
And then she exploded. Her voice sang out across the boat as her passion spilled into my mouth. I drank down the wonderful flood. My clit throbbed. I controlled myself, resisting the urge to masturbate myself to a screaming orgasm.
“You wonderful slut. Oh, yes. My concubine. My sweet concubine, yes.”
She bucked again, another orgasm knifing through my Mistress. Her pussy spasmed hard on my fingers, massaging them. I loved the thrill. Her juices coated my lips in her sticky pleasure. And then she stood back.
The crew exploded in applause.
My ears burned again as I stared up at Angela. She hauled me to my feet and spun me around, pressing me against the railings. Her fingers thrust into my pussy from behind, ramming deep into me while her thumb rubbed my clit.
“I know you’re wet, slut,” she hissed as I groaned, my eyes staring on the Island of Birds. It loomed closer and closer, the jungle dark-green about the mountain’s large flanks. “I know showing off soaked you. I can feel it. All those men watching you, lusting for you, but none of them get to touch you.”
“None, my Queen,” I gasped, my pussy clenching on her fingers, my clit aching against her rubbing thumb. “Angela. I…I…”
“You can cum, slut!”
All the excitement that had built up while I walked naked around the ship, all the embarrassing comments, ignited a furious orgasm in me. It was hot to tease those men with my forbidden body. It was enthralling to obey my Queen and bare my body before them. My head tossed back as my pussy spasmed on her fingers.
I screamed out my passion over the sea as we sailed closer and closer to Baraconia.
My body bent over the railing, my hair dangling towards the sea below. But Angela held me, her fingers pumping, keeping the orgasm alive as it crashed through my body. I gasped and shuddered, grinding back into her ass. My body shuddered. The pleasure burst so hard through me. I groaned, my eyes rolling back in my head.
“Cernere’s nimble fingers,” Minx shouted, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I only groaned in agreement as the sailors cheered again.
Faoril emerged from the cabin as the ship pulled into the fishing village of Llanes, carved out of the thick jungle of the Island of Birds, built of wood, the houses on stilts, with docks thrusting out into the green lagoon. According to the captain, she had an agreement with the halfling elders to dock her ship here. It was an hours walk from Baraconia, and hidden from the sight of passing ships.
Female halflings swarmed the docks, looking like children at play until they grabbed the hawsers thrown by the sailors. Hardly a male halfling could be seen. One supervised the working women. More women bustled through the village, their hair flashing in the sun as it set over the southern flank of Mount Peritito. The volcano loomed over all, a black cone thrusting above the island, its summit bare of any vegetation, a dome of dark-gray clouds hovering over it.
“Feeling better?” I asked Faoril as she swept to the railing.
She shrugged her shoulders, an awkward gesture with her knapsack slung over one. Those with horses traded saddlebags with the pirates for knapsacks. Angela, Chaun, and Sophia had ragged bags slung over their shoulders, holding their possessions.
It was a shame Angela had to leave Midnight, her massive warhorse, behind in Raratha. When the plan had failed spectacularly, there was no way to bring the horses along. But her armor still gleamed, her shield still strong, and her sword still sharp. She was still a knight.
The gangplank ran out to the dock, and Faoril was the first down it, rushing from the ship. I swallowed; it was almost like she fled from me. I moved to follow, but a soft hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me short.
The captain stood there, her eyes sultry and hungry and furious all at the same time. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear, “You will be mine, orc.”
Then she nipped my lobe above my thick, bone ear expander. I didn’t wince. Blood trickled hot. She had notched me. Marked me.
“You’ll be begging for my facial,” I told her.
She hissed. A challenge.
My cock tented my kilt as I headed down the gangplank, the last one off the ship. Faoril strode ahead, Xera rushing to catch up to her. I stepped onto the dock, sweeping past the female halflings who gaped at me.
“Madam Knight,” the captain called, “I will await you as we agreed upon. You intrigue me.”
Angela turned and nodded her head.
I felt the captain’s eyes on my back as I marched through the village, my long strides carrying me past Angela and Sophia, then Chaun strumming his lute, and finally to Faoril and Xera at the front. I fell in beside my woman.
She did not look at me but ahead, her face slack, her shoulders slumped. I sighed. I still had no idea what to say. I had to find something, anything, to reach her.
Journeyman Mage Faoril – The Free City of Baraconia, the Island of Birds<?strong>
I hardly noticed the hour walk down the jungle road. The thick canopy swallowed the sun and darkness descended rapidly. I only stared ahead, focused on the glimpses of the large city of Baraconia, one of the halfling cities that dotted the Nimborgoth, through the thick foliage. Like Raratha, Baraconia belonged to the League of Seven—the free cities of humans, halflings, and nixies allied through trade negotiations and pacts of mutual defense. They controlled all commerce across the large sea. The emptiness in me had to be filled, and facts about trade was better than nothing—Baraconia specialized in rare hardwoods, epoxies, gems from the earth’s heart found in the volcano above, and alchemical ingredients.
Out of the jungle, dusk settled over Baraconia, some of the sun’s fading light still reaching the city. It swept around the bowl of its harbor. It was a strange city, the buildings smaller, sized for halflings and not humans. If Thrak stood on his tiptoes, he could peer into the second floor of many buildings.
Minx led us through the city, her home before she went to Raratha. She guided us to the docks where buildings took on sizes with which I was more familiar. Thrak was beside me the whole way, straining to find words to fill me.
He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. I was filthy. Serisia was wrong about me.
We reached the Pirate’s Noose, an inn Minx recommended. We stepped into the cheery common room. Chaun felt right at home and soon had the sailors, the inn’s main patrons, singing off-colored tunes. He could not help but perform.
The rest of us sank around the table as food was ordered and drinks brought. I sipped at my glass of wine. It was fruity. My stomach roiled. I hadn’t eaten since the Doge’s party last night. I should, but every time I tried on the boat—Thrak left food in my cabin—my appetite vanished.
Food couldn’t fill me. Only one thing could.
I stood, unable to withstand all the cheering and shouting. Thrak glanced at me. His concern sent a stab of anger through me. Why did he have to care so much? Why was he so attentive and helpful? Did he think he could fix me?
“Just using the necessity,” I lied. I didn’t have to make water or waste.
“Okay.” His gruff voice had a fragile air about it. He thought I was delicate.
Of course I was. I broke.
I walked through the common room and out into a hallway. I followed it to the inn’s courtyard, stepping into the night air. I leaned against the wall. A moment later, Minx popped out of the inn. I tensed, fearing someone else meant to try and fix me.
But she kept walking past me and out into the city.
My head lolled, searching. A pair of sailors leaned against the courtyard’s wall. Rough men who eyed me. I put on a smile, my hands playing with the knots of my robe. I loosed it, the arcane artifacts in my pockets weighing the cloth, pulling my robe apart and exposing my cleavage.
“It must be so tough being a sailor,” I said.
“Oh, it is,” the first guy said, striding to me.
“Just you and all those other men,” I continued. “No sweet companionship to ease your burdens.”
He stopped before me, a sour reek rolling off of him. I wrinkled my nose but kept smiling. “Yer a sweet peach.” He stroked my cheek. “How much for a tumble?”
My eyes widened. He thought I was a prostitute. Memories flashed to Master Dalria and the Mage’s Chemise, the inn where I whored myself to pay my tab. Rutting with strange men had filled the hurt caused by failing the Test and learning Saoria’s true, disdainful feelings.
“Three silvers,” I purred. I flashed my eye to his friend. “Five to take you both on.”
“Both, eh?” his friend asked, coming closer.
“I have another hole,” I said, my butt-clenching. “I’ll give you a discount if you want to fuck me together.”
“Vedr’s mighty queef,” the first sailor grinned. “Sounds like a ripe deal to me.” His hand reached out, pulling open my robe, exposing my right breast to his leer. “Mighty ripe indeed.”
His hand squeezed my breast. I groaned and sighed. “Money.”
They fumbled, thrusting five silver coins at me. They vanished into my robe’s pockets before the garment slip off my shoulders. They rubbed dirty hands on my tits. I groaned, my pussy juicy and wet.
“Mmm, you boys must be backed up,” I purred, reaching out to grasp their dicks, rubbing them through their britches. “Ooh, I can feel it.”
Thrak stepped out of the inn. He saw me, his eyebrows furrowing, his jaw tightening. “Faoril.”
“I’m busy,” I said. “Me and these two are very busy.”
The first sailor pinched my nipple. “Wait your turn. We already paid for her.”
“Paid?” The word was a fierce growl. Pain shone in his eyes.
I looked away. “Yes, paid. Five silvers.”
“And she’s worth it,” the second sailor groaned, grabbing my ass. “Mmm, gonna enjoy her.”
Thrak’s fist crashed into the sailor’s head. He reeled back and landed in a heap on the courtyard. The other one gaped at his friend then bolted out of the courtyard with the speed of a jackrabbit. Thrak growled something in orcish then stared down at me.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, my pussy on fire. “Why did you follow me?”
“What happened, Faoril?” he asked. He reached out to touch my face.
I batted his hand away. “Nothing!”
He reached again. This time my hand bounced off his wrist. His fingers stroked my cheeks. They were so gentle, so loving. My insides squirmed. I didn’t deserve this. Not after what I did. I looked up at him, my eyes brimming with tears.
“Tell me, Faoril? What happened? What has you eaten up inside?”
Why did he have to keep asking? Why did he have to keep reminding me? Relaria’s yowling death screech echoed through my mind. An innocent. I killed her. And he kept prodding me. He kept needling and demanding. He wouldn’t let me fill my emptiness. He wouldn’t let me find blissful forgetfulness.
“Leave me alone!” exploded from me. My magic followed, bursting out of me, draining the reserves the pirates gave me last night.
The power struck Thrak hard and flung his body.
To be continued…
Click here for Chapter 3.
I have released a part 28 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!by