Chapter Seven
Sala didn’t even bother to close the door behind her once she reached the top of the steps and disappeared with her two attendants into the room.
Stecker walked by, then stood outside her room, hands crossed over his chest as he observed.
Sala had wasted no time in satiating her desires. She had gone from commanding attention and slapping the rears of young men, to accepting her place at their feet, in a moment’s notice.
The big woman was prostrate, stomach-down on the small bed, her long thick legs dangling over the edge, spread wide apart. Her leather armor skirt had been lifted and hiked up over her rump and hips, revealing her large, wide ass. She was almost wide enough from hip to hip to take the entire width of the bed as she lay on her tits and face.
A man was positioned over her, his feet on the edge of the mattress as he straddled the larger woman. This was the larger bearded man from downstairs.
Now, the man was in control, and Sala’s incessant laughter had drowned away to be replaced by low-voiced moans.
With his breeches thrown into a corner of the room, the man hunched down over Sala, standing atop her with his feet on both sides of her wobbling ass. He had thick hairy thighs and a low-hanging ballsack swinging between his legs.
He dipped down and speared his cock into Sala’s wet hole, filling it with his girth and length. Sala’s legs were spread completely apart to reveal that dark nether region, and Stecker got an eyeful of swinging balls, a flexing ass bouncing in the air, and that stabbing cock jamming down into Sala’s body.
As for his so-called sister, Stecker watched with a bemused expression as her puffy buttocks jiggled from the heavy movement on top of her and the bed. Every time the man came hurtling down on top of her, curving his cock into her, the woman’s wet pussy squelched and widened from the thick middle of the man’s shaft lodging into her, her body jolting, the bed shaking.
Her vagina was like a breathing thing as she was skewered by this beastly man in a most unusual position—he fucked her like a dog, mounting her on the bed, but opted to stand on top of the mattress and bear down on the woman with his hands pressing onto the small of her back, rather than simply position himself behind her.
This way, anyone who passed by the hallway and had the misfortune of looking over, such as Stecker, would see the full picture of Sala receiving her domination.
Anyone in the Hefty Teat was free to watch the huge woman moan and scream her pleasure while her cunt was filled and leaked juices down her toned, thick thighs, pooling at the base of the bed.
While the first man bounced his swinging testicles off Sala’s jiggling ass and impaled her from behind, there was also action going on at the other end of the bed. The shorter, second man whom Sala had chosen had the large woman’s wispy black hair in his paws, and was shoving her head down on his cock.
Grotesque slopping noises were pushing out from Sala’s throat as she took the entirety of the young man’s erect manhood down her facehole, into her taut neck.
The young man was on his knees, his rear-end pressing against the headboard of the bed as he pumped his hips rapidly and forced his dick to slide in and out between Sala’s lips.
From Stecker’s angle at the doorway, he could only see the satisfied, dark expression of the naked man as he used the larger woman’s face for his own pleasure, as if her head was some sort of debased sex toy.
Sala’s arms were stretched out wide, dangling off either edge of the bed as her body bounced up and down. She was happily getting pulverized by the horny duo, spitroasted like a stuck pig.
But her moans and wet sounds of delight were proof that she had wanted nothing more than to get herself controlled by some smaller, eager young men.
And the two peasants were surprisingly adept at satisfying her growing need.
At one point, while Sala was pulled this way and that, the man mounting her dug deep with his cock, pushing it completely into her canal, his hips slapping her shaking asscheeks. He held the position there and Stecker watched as Sala’s large bum twitched, the man’s cock hilted and enveloped completely within the folds of her soaking cunt.
Sala grunted, which turned into a drawn-out moan, and Stecker’s eyes widened at the sight.
A spurt of sticky liquids shot out from behind Sala like a hose, a mixture of piss and cum and lady juices cascading out behind her. The fountain of love liquids splashed onto the wooden floorboard in a straight line, dropping like thick beads of rain, squirting out so far that they landed just inches from Stecker’s boots at the doorway.
Stecker frowned at the evacuated liquids, impressed with Sala’s sphincter and vaginal muscles, that she could fire away with such distance.
The solid, fleshy clap of meaty balls clapping against her asscheeks rang out again as the man began rocking into a rhythm on top of her once more.
The man at the front of the bed groaned, knocking on the back of her head like she was a wooden door, as he stuffed his whole cock deep down her maw and held it there. She gagged and coughed from the effort, snot and saliva spilling out from her face, smearing her lips and cheeks in filth.
“This one’s a good, big-titted breeding cow, mate,” said the man hovering over her, as he continued to pummel her and slam into her bouncing buttocks. “Come back here.”
“H-Hold,” said the man at the front, his cock wedged inside Sala’s bloated throat. His eyes lifted to the ceiling, his mouth opening in an O. He bucked his hips a couple of times, then blew his load down Sala’s gullet.
The huge drunk woman gulped it up, her neck muscles working in overdrive to slurp down the viscous seed as quickly as it shot out from the dirty man’s pisshole.
Stecker debated leaving, turning away then. He had seen enough—it was a common occurrence for Sala to get beyond drunk, then choose some men to manhandle her and turn her into their ragged cum-doll. She always tended to get so inebriated that she ended up a soaking, spunk-drenched mess by the next unpleasant morning, with semen dripping from every orifice of her body, and her calmly asking one of her gang, “What happened last night? Does anyone know?”
The answer was always the same: “You got blind drunk and forced men to roll in the sheets with you all night, Sala. You seemed to enjoy it at the time, cavorting like animals.”
To which Sala would respond with a shrug. “Hm. Interesting. I don’t . . . feel sore.”
“That’s because you outsize and outmatch every man you ever rut with.”
Then Sala would undoubtedly sigh, a dreamy look overtaking her face as she muttered, “All except Trevaros, of course . . .”
And the rest of the Siblinghood would roll their collective eyes.
Stecker knew the truth of Sala’s past, or at least as much as she was willing to talk about. He knew why she drank so much, why she had no qualms letting men violate and fill her every greedy hole.
It was a sad tale, as was every tale in the Siblinghood, and Stecker couldn’t blame the poor woman.
But it was quite a sight seeing the depravity firsthand, he had to admit . . .
Just as he was about to turn around, the man at the headboard pulled back, slid his hard wet cock out of her mouth, and stood on the bed. He let go of Sala’s cum-ridden, filthy face, and hopped down to the wooden floor, landing with a light thud.
He couldn’t have been much more than Stecker’s height, though he was a bit frail looking. He had a reasonably sized penis, which now swayed between his legs as it softened, slapping against his thighs.
But it began to harden as he joined his companion at the base of the bed. He gave Stecker a single nod in the doorway, to which Stecker couldn’t help but feel embarrassed—ashamed to be spying so intently on Sala getting her orifices stuffed and ruined. He was also feeling a pang of jealousy, watching these men use Sala like a common cum receptacle. She was usually so gruff and dominant . . . outside the bedroom at least. She clearly enjoyed taking it just as much as dealing it out. Stecker also wondered if al
l the filthy, poor men in this tavern were as well-endowed as these two.
Then the naked man showed his ass to Stecker and started to stroke his cock. He squeezed in between Sala’s gigantic thighs, running his hands along her legs.
Sala groaned. “Y-You gonna tag-team me some more, boys? Is that your dirty plan? Put big ol’ Sala in her place?”
“Yes, slut, you won’t be walking right for a week.”
“Is that a ch-challenge?” Sala asked, grunting. She cleared her throat and spit phlegm and jizz across the floorboards.
The man had his cock stiff again, jutting out from his body. He shoved his friend aside on the mattress, the man’s cock plopping out of Sala’s eager wet cunt, and they changed positions quickly.
Before long, the bigger man was underneath Sala, hugging her against his torso, and Stecker didn’t understand how her weight didn’t crush him. He pounded her from below, causing Sala’s ass to bounce with his rhythm. The man who had been throating the large woman was now perched on top of her, his smaller cock lodged inside her asshole.
Both men chuckled as they punished her rear-end and pussy, filling her holes with a seesaw motion, Sala crying out raspily at the double penetration.
Sala’s moans becoming more frantic and desperate. She had climaxed multiple times now, and a sheen of semen, piss, and sweat mingled all around her bottom half, filling the dark crevices and making her eager sex sound like a churning river.
The broad shafts met in the middle as they protruded into her anus and pussy, the topside and underside of each rubbing into one another. Their balls clapped in similar spots on Sala’s bruised bum, jiggling her entire body with their incessant thrusts.
Stecker scratched his scalp, running a hand through his curly hair. He’d seen enough here. Sala was no doubt about to explode into orgasmic bliss from both of those penises crowding her hungry holes. And judging by the spurt of liquids that had suddenly shot out from her the first time, Stecker didn’t want to be in Sala’s line of sight when she really blew her load.
He turned away from the door, not bothering to close it—so anyone else could get a show, should they only walk by—and ventured down the hall.
His pants were tight against his body, he realized, as the excessive orgy he’d just witnessed had awoken his own hungry desires. Aroused and erect, he grabbed at his thigh and tried to shift his crotch this way and that, uncomfortably attempting to walk normally as he begged his erection to go down.
But it was hopeless, as the visual image of Sala getting ruthless penetrated by those two strangers kept replaying in his head—her big bouncing body, all that flesh wobbling around; the thunderclap sounds of nutsacks slapping against her pillowy skin; her moans and groans of instant gratification.
Yes, apparently this night was quite the reason to celebrate after all.
THE NEXT ROOM OVER had its door closed, and Stecker could guess why. The primal screams from Sala’s room still carried throughout the brothel as her unending sexual escapade continued, letting everyone know of her current state.
Stecker could hear thumping coming from this room, but he didn’t bother to knock and expect anyone to answer.
He was feeling quite voyeuristic at the moment, which wasn’t usually his style. But he had had no release in quite some time, and it was only natural for a man to need some relief . . . or so he told himself. Even if he was just watching it.
The room next to the closed one was where Alberus and Princess Catera were staying.
He rapped lightly at the door, was given entrance, and walked in. Catera rested on the bed, lying down, looking relaxed but a bit scared. Stecker knew why she was scared, and it had nothing to do with Alberus, who was positioned on a chair many feet away, reading some sort of paper, altogether ignoring the princess.
Catera was frightened, Stecker thought, because she was not used to being in such a rowdy, loud place. She was used to prim, proper get-togethers of the royal kind, with bountiful feasts, or pleasant horseback ventures in the green countryside.
Catera was not used to grimy, rude men gawking at her as she walked by, sneering and hawking loads of spit near her feet. She was not used to the utterings of depraved drunks, or hearing large, muscled women being so thoroughly exhausted by cocks that she screamed out to the world. She was not used to that unending thumping against the wall, so close to her room.
The lesser, base world—inferior compared to her noble fittings—was much more degenerate and perverted than she’d ever known.
She lay on the bed with bulged eyes, her hands fidgeting on her stomach, her hair messily framing her head.
“Everything all right in here?” Stecker asked stupidly.
“Never better,” Alberus muttered, without looking up from his paper. After a few moments of thump, thump, thump, the boss sighed and put his paper down. “Is that Sala, I’m guessing?”
“Her and others,” Stecker said. “I think Filtray, in the next room over.”
“That dandy boy feels no shame, does he?”
Stecker shrugged. “He lives his own life, Alb. You know that. He’s different than the rest of us.”
Alberus scowled. “Perhaps I should’ve never allowed you fiends to make it to adulthood!”
Stecker walked over to the wall, where a painting rested. It was a replica of a priceless Geread painting—though the replica was worthless.
Stecker removed the painting.
“Well, while you . . . do what it is you do, Steck, can I trust you to guard the princess? I need some ale of my own, and perhaps some fresh air from all these degenerate children of mine.”
Stecker chuckled. “Feel free, Alb. The princess and I will be fine.”
Alb stood, his knees creaking, and stretched. Then he left the room, limping from misaligned hips, while shaking his head.
Stecker and Catera were alone.
But Stecker didn’t turn to her quite yet. After removing the painting from the wall, he searched the wall for a pinhole and found it. He stuck his eye to the hole, then spied on the room next door—he knew all the ins and outs of the Hefty Teat, because the Solver Siblinghood had used it as a base of operations so many times before.
And one of the things they always did, when meeting with a prospective commissioner or client, was hold a man-to-man meeting in the room next door, while the gang spied from this room.
Stecker wondered if Filtray had planned that, using the unofficial “meeting room” next door as his personal den of lust and pleasure.
Sure enough, Filtray was having his own bit of fun behind closed doors, Stecker could see. He didn’t bother to watch for long, but he did catch a few eyebrow-raising moments.
The thin, loud lad with the confidence and swagger of a dragon was currently in the air, yelping like a woman. His legs were lifted until his feet almost touched the sides of his head. He was held up by his pale ass, at least four feet in the air.
His strong gentleman caller—the same one Stecker had seen eye-fucking the young man downstairs in the booth—was naked, carrying Filtray in his arms.
Filtray was lifted by the man’s cupping hands, while strong forearms pushed back against thighs, pressing his kneecaps close to his frail chest. The end result was an immobile boy folded in on himself.
The young man reached back with his hands and tugged on his lover’s ears, ruffled his hair, and scratched his cheek. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, his mouth open in absolute bliss.
Filtray’s tight pink asshole was filled by the man’s big cock—it seemed all of the strong peasant types in the Hefty Teat were packing some serious meat—and he was bounced up and down in the air as he was carry-fucked near the edge of the bed.
The standing man behind him grunted and chuckled at Filtray’s groping hands as they slapped and pulled at his beard and face.
The fop’s little penis flopped around all over the place, moving so fast that it was nearly a blur as it smacked against his own stomach.
Filtray was at
an utter loss for words as his bum was penetrated and filled to the brim. The anal skin around the big man’s girthy cock looked ready to tear because he stretched the poor dandy’s hole apart so wide. Filtray’s taint was red from the constant bouncing of his own balls, flapping and clapping against his soft body.
Stecker watched for a moment in the spyhole as the dandy was railed in the air. Then he sighed.
We complete one mission and the entire team devolves into rutting beasts. Animals of depravity.
It’s embarrassing . . . if not somewhat attractive.
Stecker couldn’t believe that Filtray could kill a man with a precisely aimed dagger throw, and then that same night joyously submit to a thick cock in his ass while his little baby pecker flopped all around.
Is it his way of trying to forget what he’s done?
At that moment, Filtray screamed out, his voice a high-pitched squeal. The feminine boy wrapped his dainty hand around the back of the man’s neck behind him, holding on for dear life. His stomach bulged from the hulking penis tearing up his insides, and then he spurt a watery line of semen all over his own body, showering up from his flaccid cock like a fountain. It got in his own blond hair, spattered on his face, and smeared into his fair skin.
Filtray’s toes curled near his forehead. Then with a schlorp the man’s heaving cock was removed from him and his puckering pink sphincter was no longer tight and unused. It was a black gaping hole of dripping cum, and when the man placed him gingerly on his feet, he nearly fell over on wobbly, doe-like legs.
“Now put that dress on and hike it over your big girly ass, princess boy,” the man said gruffly. “Bend over that bed and stick your gaping rear-end out toward me. I need something to hold onto while I keep stuffing you into oblivion.”
“Y-Yes, master,” Filtray stuttered, stumbling forward to the edge of the bed, while his wide-open anus continued to leak juices down his legs. “I hope . . . you never g-grow tired of me, sir.”
The man laughed and slapped Filtray’s white ass once it was bent over the bed. A red handprint stayed for a few moments, embedded into Fil’s buttocks.
Princess of Thieves Page 7