With a grunt, he removed his tongue from Sala’s sphincter and hugged her around the waist. Nearly her height—and a head taller than most people in the tavern—he swung her around, away from the barstool. The veins on his arms and neck tautened, protruding from his skin as he lifted her with effort.
Sala heaved, her feet leaving the ground. Her hands wrapped around Dered’s strong forearms around her hips.
Next moment, she was slammed onto a tabletop facedown, and she heard Dered’s boots smack onto the bench, then onto the table around her.
Dered lifted her skirt again, pushing it well above her butt and leaving it there on the small of her back. Her round ass, now glistening down the crack with wetness and stickiness, was lifted high as she went to her hands and knees.
Dered pulled his trousers down, which had been bulging at the front from the moment he started tonguing the big woman’s asshole.
His heavy cock flopped down onto her bum. He straddled her now, both legs bent nearly 90-degreed like a crab. His penis was low-reaching and brushed against the woman’s wet crack. His balls were similarly dangling at a low angle.
“S-So much for having a worm-dick,” one man muttered. A few others laughed as they began circling the table to see what depravity Dered and Sala were about to get into.
With little fanfare, Dered stuck two fingers into Sala’s rectum, then hooked them. Sala moaned, her face flattening against the hardwood tabletop.
He held her down with one hand, scooping it around her wide hips, and then angled his cock underneath her. He curved the stiffening appendage to her slit, then rubbed it up and down, creating damp moisture for his cock, smearing it all over Sala’s pussy and asscrack.
The folds of her labia were puffy and red, still exerted from the massive pounding she’d taken earlier that night. Her asshole was breathing—not quite yawning, but she felt little from his fingers prodding inside her.
But when he lodged his cock into her wet cunt, the pleasure centers in her body were lit-up anew. A wave of euphoria swept through her body, causing her to quiver.
Dered smashed down into her, dipping his hips so he could fuck her from above.
The table holding their collective weight creaked as it was moved a few inches across the floor from their sudden rutting.
Dered pounded into her hard, making sure his balls made satisfying claps against her cheeks with every downward thrust.
Sala moaned and reached out with her hands, as if asking for help, well past the lengthwise edge of the table.
One drunk woman actually took her large paw in her smaller hands, both of them, and rubbed them for support. She looked upon Sala with pity—but the giantess was loving every moment of it.
It wasn’t every day that she got cock from Dered Brich—this was one of the first times, in fact.
But it was for the cause of the Siblinghood, she knew, or at least that’s what she told herself.
Her body rocked back and forth on the table. Dered grunted with each blow, with each thunderous clap of his nuts.
Sala spewed juices out of her pussy—a specialty of hers that she could practically do at will—and it cascaded and fountained into the air, covering Dered’s body and then shooting past him. A few droplets landed on the circle of voyeurs.
Another gasp from the onlookers, who probably hadn’t seen a woman squirt such a hefty amount of liquids from her pussy in their lives.
A few men were masturbating now, their cocks unashamedly in their hands as they watched Dered have his way with this big woman. Some of them escaped to booths, but most just stood right in the causeway while they stroked themselves.
Dered pushed down on Sala’s backside until he had the woman well-planked on the wood, going from all fours to her belly and tits. Her legs stuck out the back end of the tabletop.
Reaching forward, Dered leveled himself across Sala’s back, then hooked his fingers into the woman’s mouth, yanking back so he fishhooked her into a rictus grin.
Sala’s pupils disappeared into the whites of her eyes, her tongue lolling, now indeed making her look like a witch or a possessed devil as Dered effortlessly pounded her.
“Ahh, I love it when they break like that!” Dered laughed. “Tongue lapping like a dog’s while I ruin them! But really, woman, so fast?”
He grunted and shimmied on top of her, his belly and frontside rolling with her backside as he continued to punch his cock between her cheeks, up into her cunt.
“Gaahhh!” Sala cried, her voice muffled from the fingers spreading her lips apart. “Fo good! Fo fuckeen gooh!”
Dered leaped off her, slapped his cock on her bum, then entered her from behind. He stood over the backside of the table now, squirmed between her giant legs, wrapping those thighs around his own body.
At the same time, bodies were descending from the stairs. Stecker led the fray, with Alberus in second, then Catera, then Fitlray and Nemya bringing up the rear.
Alberus muttered under his breath, his voice sad, “My gods-damned children, of course—I should have guessed this would be the plan.”
Stecker nodded. “We’re an incorrigible bunch, Alb. You’ve always known that.”
Their eyes only momentarily flickered over the sweaty fucking taking place on the tabletop. Dered was grunting, locked in focus, and Sala was panting and crying out. Her words were beginning to fail her. Plus, most of their view was blocked by the numerous heads watching in a nearby circle.
“Well, that’s one way to give them something they’ll never forget,” Filtray mumbled.
Nemya’s cheeks burned red and she scowled at the barbaric act. Sala always seemed to have all the fun, and didn’t Dered know how much his actions hurt her? He constantly chastised her for being a former whore . . . but here he was being a complete hypocrite!
He’ll never love me like I love him! Nemya’s mind screamed.
Meanwhile, Sala screamed in real life. Her body writhed and she came, a plethora of liquids dripping down her pussy and legs and trickling to the floor like rain.
The clandestine group walked right behind the circle of voyeuristic patrons, with hardly a sound between them. All eyes were looking the other way as they shuffled out.
Before they were gone, Dered had flipped Sala over, and now he crouched above her once more on the table, taking his stance as if he were riding a steed. He shoved his large testicles into her face and she licked the crease between them with a rapidly moving tongue.
The last thing Stecker heard before leaving the tavern came from Dered, as he laughed grimly and said, “You act tough, you big bitch, but how does it feel to be put in your place in front of all these people? To be gobbling on my big, sweaty, juicy nutsack?”
Sala, of course, couldn’t respond, being smothered as she was by the balls in her mouth.
Stecker furrowed his brow, wondering how much of Dered’s words rang out as truth—how he really thought of Sala—and how much he was just saying to put on the performance for the lust-driven audience.
The entire group made it out of the Hefty Teat without being seen by a single patron . . .
. . . save for one individual, who sat in a booth near the back and wasn’t interested in watching a lewd coupling between a fit, amorous man and woman.
Bino narrowed his eyes as he watched the gang escape with that hooded girl between them. As the door to the brothel shut, he sat back in his booth and calmly drank from his mug of ale, stroking his bushy beard contemplatively.
Chapter Twelve
Dawn was just beginning to breathe life into Sefyr City, casting a dark blue and gray hue to the sky that stretched to the nearby mountains.
Under their waning cover of night, the Solver Siblinghood led Princess Catera through a dangerous trek around the city. Together, the group were forced to make frequent stops and deviations to their travels, ducking into alleys and hiding in dark shadows as city patrolmen walked the area.
“Judging by their lax attitude,” Stecker said as their white e
yes gazed from the darkness at a passing troop, “I’d say that the manhunt has yet to begin.”
Alberus grunted. “It will soon. Come on, we must hurry.”
Footsteps pounded behind them on the pavement, first heavy at the end of the alley, then lightening as they approached the hiding group.
Stecker’s head swiveled on his shoulders to see Sala and Dered arrive, their bodies still covered in sweat.
Alberus frowned as the two ducked down behind a stack of boxes. “How nice of you two to join us.”
Dered gulped. “Sorry for our tardiness,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “The rabid patrons barely let us out of there.”
“Oh?” Stecker said. “And I wonder why that would be.”
Sala chuckled darkly. “They all wanted a piece of my big a—”
“It was a rhetorical question, Sala,” Stecker mumbled.
“Did you give it to them?” Filtray asked after a moment of silence, posing the question that was on everyone’s mind.
With a smile, Sala said, “Couldn’t leave the whimpering fiends hungry—”
“Sala!” Dered scolded.
“All right, all right,” Sala said, waving her hand. “No, I did not. Dered was . . . plenty for me.”
“You don’t sound drunk anymore,” Stecker pointed out.
Sala grinned in the darkness. “Funny how such an exhilarating display could sober me up so quickly, eh, Steck?”
“Well, it was a disgusting display,” Alberus said, then turned back to the thoroughfare, where the guardsmen had long since disappeared down the road. He clearly did not have anything else to say on the matter, and was a bit angry with Sala and Dered, but everyone knew that he would soon forget it.
Nemya, who had stayed quiet thus far, was not sure if she would be able to get over the constant feeling of betrayal at the hands of Dered, however. She stood crouched next to Princess Catera, whose eyes darted back and forth between the arguing band of thieves.
She must think we’re all absolutely insane, Nemya thought. Poor lass. Little does she know how right she is . . .
Though most of the Siblinghood had been wrangled together when they were just youths, the time when they were Alberus’ “children” had clearly come and gone. All of them were now quite . . . adult . . . in their behavior and actions.
It was the loss of innocence—whatever amount of that they might have possessed—that Alberus mourned, since he saw the gang as his foster children. Of course, none of them were blood related, but it still left a sour taste in the old man’s mouth, seeing two people he’d known all his life copulating like beasts in the open room of a dank brothel.
“Apologies, Alb,” Dered said, a bit ashamedly. “But you have to admit . . . it was a good diversion . . .”
Alberus sighed despairingly. “Alas.” He waited a moment, head poking out from the mouth of the alley and then looking left and right. “Come on, enough of this.”
The large group melded into the thoroughfare, which was empty of all other people. On both sides of the road, tall tenements loomed, their gabled tops starting to brighten from the rising sun.
In this poor district of the city, the shanties and tenements provided excellent coverage and a multitude of hideaways. Those tall, dilapidated structures housed numerous families and groups of people in their broken-down walls. Many of the buildings bridged together by makeshift planks and wooden hallways going from window to window, creating a veritable city in the sky—and that wasn’t including the roofs of the buildings, which created its own dreamlike expanse, a world all its own.
The group ventured from the main road to smaller, winding pathways, cutting through even more alleys and nooks.
With the exception of Catera, everyone knew where they were going. The princess walked with purpose, hiding in the middle of the pack, and Stecker was pleased that she made nary a sound—though he wondered what the other band members thought of that.
Will they be suspicious about her lack of alarm? That she doesn’t cry out for help? After all, if the princess wanted to escape from our grasp, now would be the time . . . when we’re most vulnerable on the open streets.
Eventually, they made it to the front of a small inn. Its walls seemed to lean to one direction, the right, giving it an unstable appearance, but Stecker knew that was merely how it looked on the outside. Years of disrepair had made the building slink to the side, nearly crashing into the housing structure to its right.
Alberus tried the door, found that it was stuck, then pulled harder. Finally, the misshapen portal opened and he hurried the group inside.
A lone old woman sat behind the front table, with two hallways leading in either direction before the table. She frowned as she saw Alberus step through the doorway, and then all of his minions. Her eyes stopped for a moment over the hooded face of the princess, noticing that she was dressed differently . . . better . . . with expensive materials. It was clear that she didn’t fit into the group.
Stecker saw that lingering glance and thought, That will be first on our list of things to do once we have Catera safely stowed away . . . new garb so she doesn’t stand out so much.
“Reesnala,” Alberus grunted, nodding his head.
The woman’s perpetual scowl remained on her wrinkled face. Her puffy gray hair fluttered as she nodded to the tall man. Rather than point in the directions of one of the hallways leading left and right, she turned from the table and wandered into another room behind her.
Alberus took that as summons and slid over the tabletop. The rest of the band followed in suit, and before long they were all stuffed in a tiny room. A small mattress was pushed up against one wall, with a little desk with candles atop it nearby.
This was clearly the old woman’s living quarters. She had a dingy old rug covering most of the center part of the floor.
Her eyes scanned down to the floor, and Alberus followed it. Frowning, he lifted the rug.
Not a single word had been uttered from the elderly woman’s mouth, and Stecker thought he knew why: The less she knew, the better.
The only thing Reesnala the inn owner had to know was that they had a stranger in their midst, she looked rich and prosperous and out of place, and they needed to stow her away somewhere. Dangerous times were coming.
Reesnala wandered past the Siblinghood, shuffling through the parting sea of humanity as they got out of her way. Alberus looked at the stoop-backed, short woman with deference, then continued pulling the rug away.
It revealed a topped manhole, much like a sewer grate. The old man gestured at it and Stecker and Dered instinctively moved up and, together, lifted the corked top away.
A dark hole in the middle of the room presented itself—a secret doorway into blackness, with a ladder leading down into the void. The band shared looks with each other—slightly scared—and Alberus said, “What, are we going to draw straws to see who goes first?”
Stecker frowned, “Ugh, I’ll go.” He motioned for the princess. “You, follow in my footsteps.”
“Okay, Ste—sir.” Princess Catera nodded, her fingers drumming nervously in front of her stomach. The bottom half of her face was all that was visible beneath her hood.
Stecker took the rickety ladder down into the dark underground, making sure to check his daggers before he went. When he could see the bottom, he leaped down and stayed in a crouched position, eyes darting around as his cloak billowed around him.
After an appropriately long time—he couldn’t see far in either direction—he went to the ladder and tapped on the bottom rung three times. A small thudding rang out.
And a few minutes later, Alberus was the last man descending the ladder and pulling the large grate back into place over it.
When he dropped to the ground, he clapped his hands as if drying them off, then put them on his waist. “Ah, here we are. Underneath the city at last.”
“We have somewhere to stay?” Nemya asked.
“Aye, follow me, children.”
And so they did, following the old man’s footsteps as they wandered through the dark, dank tunnel, the rotting smell of fish and feces rising up to offend their noses and sting their eyes.
I suppose being safe in this horrible smelling cavern is better than being in danger in the clear-aired outside, Stecker thought.
The cavern walkway was nearly circular in its shape, with bowed walls on either side that allowed a marching order of just two abreast.
Stecker could hear the sniffing and squeaking of rats, scampering along in the darkness, along the walls and swerving by them on the floor. When one particular rodent nudged into his feet, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
Despite being a member of the underground, Stecker was unreasonably scared of rats and mice. It was something about their tiny hands, quivering noses, and innocent eyes that made him suspicious.
Or perhaps death is better than all of this!
FAR AWAY AND NEARLY out of eyeshot, a man witnessed the entire Solver Siblinghood walk into the decrepit, leaning inn. He had trailed the two capricious lovers who’d left the Hefty Teat together, before other patrons began salivating over one another, stroking their cocks and fiddling their pussies like wild animals without any sense of civility, and then copulating like the same.
After the duo’s covert escape from the brothel, one dimwitted patron suddenly snapped to and realized that the entire tavern-full of drinkers had been duped.
Many of them rushed the stairs en masse, to soon discover that the Siblinghood had fled right from under their sweat-smelling noses.
But not the man sitting in the corner booth, caressing his neatly trimmed beard, calmly finishing his ale.
He had broken out into the rustic night and followed the two. At one point, they’d turned around, and he stumbled against a wall and nearly fell, playing the part of a drunken passerby with aplomb.
The two had continued without a second thought, into the yawning mouth of a dark alleyway.
He hadn’t needed to go into the alley to know they’d come out the other side. He circled around the buildings, passed by a troop of patrolmen and tipped his imaginary hat to them, and continued on his way . . . just in time to watch the men and women scuttle out of the alley like a family of beetles. Insects.
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