The Rogue’s Harem Book One, Chapter Two: Canvas Darkness

 

The World of Erasthay

The Rogue’s Harem Book One: Rogue’s Sultry Women

Chapter Two: Canvas Darkness

by mypenname3000

© Copyright 2016


Story Codes: Teen female Masturbation, Male/Female, Female/Female, Fantasy, Magic, Voyeurism, Violence, Oral Sex, Incest, Creampie, Domination/submission

For a list of all The Rogue’s Harem, 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!

Sven Falk

My dagger cut the second sentry’s throat. He dropped behind the warleader’s tent. I drew my hand crossbow and loaded a short quarrel. I studied the three guards at the fire. With a gasp, they gained their feet, spotting my sister’s illusions.

Two charged off after the woman. Kora knew how to entice men, especially rapist scum, with her creations. She’d find a way to dispose of them. Probably run them off a cliff as the idiots only thought with their cocks.

I aimed my hand crossbow at the third. He had big grin on his face as he adjusted himself.

The quarrel hissed through the air, catching him in the throat. He grasped at it then ripped it free. Blood flowed down his throat. He staggered for a moment before collapsing, gurgling on the ground. Grinning, I stowed my hand crossbow and focused on the gray tent.

I stalked to the back of the tent. The warleader was the true danger. The naga trained them brutally, teaching them how to fight, how to give pain, and how to endure it. Some even learned dread arts, magics that manipulated shadows. My heart beat faster as I pressed my knife against the tent’s canvas while listening.

Snoring. Deep and rumbling. The warleader slept.

Perfect.

The dagger’s sharp tip pierced the canvas with a rasping whisper. With patience, I cut down, working through the thick cloth. My knife whisked. I paused after each sawing stroke, listening to the snoring. It stayed the same. Inch-by-inch, my blade sliced downward, making my entrance into the tent.

Finished, the cloth swayed, loose.

I crept through the hole and crouched just inside. Movement froze me. In the corner, a form uncurled, painted in the light from a small lantern hanging from the tent’s frame at its apex. A pale-skinned female body sat up, bushy hair spilling about narrow shoulders. A pair of triangular ears, tawny like her hair, thrust up at the top of her head and twitched like a cat’s. A face stared at me, golden eyes slitted. A lamia. Her slitted eyes fixed on me, keen vision noticing me.

Then they flicked to the sleeping, snoring man.

The warleader slept naked atop his blankets, his body a dusky brown and so muscled his veins stood out against his skin. A shaved head gleamed in the lantern light. A black mustache, the ends long and drooping down to his chin, adorned a squat and chiseled face.

The lamia shook her head in warning, an iron slave collar tight about her throat. She mouthed, “Run.”

I winked at her.

I crept closer to the sleeping warleader. A glint to my right drew my attention. In an open chest, sitting upon rumpled clothing, lay a necklace of braided gold with a ruby, the size of a chicken’s egg and reflecting light across its cut facets, attached at the end.

My heart almost stopped beating. I’d never seen a ruby so big before. Without thought, I snatched it up, holding it before my eyes. A deep crimson bled out of the depth of the stone, growing lighter on the edges as the light shone on it.

Kora would look so beautiful wearing it.

The lamia moved, crouching low. Her tawny tail flicked too and fro. She looked like a human woman, small and petite, with cat ears, eyes, and a tail. Cum stained her thighs, used by her owner before he had fallen asleep.

“He’ll kill you,” she mouthed again.

I grinned at her, pocketing the amulet, hefted my dagger, and winked again.

Her head cocked to the side. Her brows furrowed. She stuck a tongue out between her lips. Nipples hardened atop her small breasts. Her fingers bit into the bedding she lay on as I advanced on her owner.

His broad chest lay stretched out before me, rising and falling with his snores. I knelt, raised my dagger, and aimed at his heart.

Stabbed.

The man’s dark eyes snapped opened. His hand seized my wrist in a crushing grip.

“Pater’s cock,” I swore, pain flaring up my wrist. My hand spasmed open, the dagger falling down, stabbing into the warleader’s bedding beside him.

“Thief,” growled the man, a brutal smile spreading across his lips.

My booted foot lashed out, slamming into his side.

He didn’t even grunt.

I cried out as he twisted my arm. My knees buckled, my wrist twisting in ways Slata didn’t intend when the Goddess created humans in her womb. Tears burned in my eyes. I snarled, drawing another dagger in my left hand, stabbing.

Blood spurted.

His his arm bleeding, he released me. Crimson flowed down his wrist as I stumbled back. The lamia yowled as I stepped on her. I tripped on her and fell over her, crashing onto the ground. The catgirl hissed, struggling to get out from beneath my legs as the warleader rose.

“Did I take your sister, thief?” the warleader asked, a sword hissing from a scabbard by his bed. Long and silver, the edges gleaming in the lantern light. “No, not with magic like that wreathing you. You are no farmer with pigshit beneath his fingernails. Who are you?”

“I was just out for a stroll and thought I’d poke around in your tent,” I grinned, rising and shifting the dagger from my left to my right hand. “See what I could find.”

“With shadows bent around you to conceal you?” Rage burned across the man’s face.

My concealment didn’t matter in such tight confines. Up close, he could see the outline of my body. He knew where I was. It was enough for him to swing at me. To kill me.

His sword hissed at me. I cursed, raising my dagger to parry. Sparks flared as I deflected it. The blow jolted down my arm. I grunted, diving to the side. I rolled, the lamia yowling and hissing in fear, scampering across the floor away from us.

Air whooshed at me. I kept rolling. The sword struck ground behind me. I came up, whirling, my left hand drawing a throwing dagger. It sped through the air, burying into the warleader’s muscular stomach. Blood trickled out around the blade.

He ripped it out and threw it back.

I ducked. Canvas ripped behind me.

“Who sent you?” the man bellowed. “Which enemy of my mistress interferes in her business? Is the Paragon betraying her?”

“What do you think?” I asked, my heart racing as I crossed his bedding. He had the advantage. His sword had far greater reach than my dagger. He was taller than me, his arms longer. So I had to be smarter. Quicker. I feinted for the right.

His blade followed me, exposing himself.

I darted left to close the distance and—

“Las’s putrid cum,” I snarled, throwing myself backward as he recovered. His blade sliced over my chest, almost cutting me in twain, as I crashed onto my ass. I rolled backward over my head and landed in a crouch.

“You’re a nimble one. But the Paragon didn’t send you. No, no, you’re human. Zeutchian. Was it Shuzizzra, then?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” I grinned, my heart racing, eyes flicking around, looking for options. I couldn’t keep dodging him. He had skill, and the tent kept us confined. I had to make that work for me.

“We’ll see.” His smile promised pain.

My left hand blurred. The throwing dagger hissed at his face. He recoiled back as I turned, an idea striking me. It was a dumb one. Metal clanged behind me. My shoulders blades writhed. He deflected my knife with his sword.

I grasped the support post of the tent. Footsteps thudded behind me.

“Watch out!” the lamia shouted.

I yanked on the post, turning around.

The sword stabbed at my chest.

I fell to the ground, pulling on the post. It groaned in my hand, twisting, the tent shaking. The sword stabbed over me and slammed into the post. Wood snapped. Canvas rustled. The tent collapsed on us.

The lantern fell to the ground, sputtering out. Cloth engulfed me, hugging me with more passion than a lover. The warleader bellowed in rage, thrashing. The lamia hissed. I scrambled, pulling at the canvas, crawling beneath it. Cloth tore, sliced by a sword.

“Naga scales,” the warleader snarled. “Where are you, boy? Think you can steal into my tent?” He roared.

Through the darkness, I saw his shape thrashing, fighting to get free of the tent. I scrambled toward him as the canvas rippled around me. My dagger stabbed. Found flesh. Blood welled around my hand. He bellowed. His fists slammed down, striking me through the tent on the back.

I grunted.

“Think you can stick me like a pig, boy?” he growled.

“Yes!” I grunted and stabbed again and again and again.

My sharp blade pierced his flesh over and over as he thrashed and bellowed like a big in the abattoir. His sword struggled to swing at me, but the canvas tangled it around it. The lamia purred nearby as her master gurgled and convulsed. He collapsed, tangled by the tent.

Died.

“You killed him,” the lamia said after a minute.

“So I did,” I said, my back throbbing from his blow. Worth it.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 3.

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I have released a part 41 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!

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