by James Hunt
It didn't take long for the bidding to escalate. The Madam was a master of her audience. When the battle of coins was over, the Madam was paid. A servant girl collected the coins on a tray from a plump man in fine golden silks. He stood, downed the last of his cup, and bid parting to the two ladies he was entertaining on each side. A man of tastes and elegance, he offered his prize his arm in a kind fashion and led her up the stairs. She was shaking by the time they reached the top and had left the boisterous tavern below behind them.
"Don't be nervous, my dear." He said in a deep, grandiose voice. His was a voice of authority – volumous, projecting, and commandeering of attention. "Unlike some of these barbarous curs, I am a man of refinement and good upbringing. No doubt you have noticed the accent." He said as he drew out the 'c' into a hiss. She could only listen to him speak as he took her down the dimly lit upper hallway to the rooms beyond. "I am called Gravado, it is a title and not a name. You will use it, it is only customary. In Gmovisce, a man is not a man until he has taken a title for himself. Otherwise he is but a servant of god, and the state. A man does not know his worth until he takes his destiny unto his own hands and achieves his life. For it is writ in the scriptures." Gravado prattled on, engaged in the sound of his own voice, and not caring to let his companion chime in on the conversation.
She steered him to the room assigned to her by the Madam, and escorted her charge to the pillowed bed. Without warning, but with a playful push, she made the bulky man capsize over. Distraught with her boldness, and aflutter at suddenly finding himself staring at the ceiling, his once commanding voice dared to utter something of a squeak at a loss for something to say.
"My lord is very... accomplished." She said and traced her fingers across the girth of his belly. This made Gravado turn a deep flush, and his brow scowled almost in anger. He looked as if he was about to bellow his disapproval. But that furious look on his face cowed her immediately and she slunk to his feet.
"Mercy, my lord." She pleaded in a hurt voice. "This unskilled servant is only doing what she was told. I am a miserable wretch that has never known the touch of man." She started to sob. Gravado managed to wiggle himself up despite his large bulk, but could not speak as he was flabbergasted at this turn of events.
"Be at peace, sweetling." He said soothingly and ran his stubby fingers through her hair. "Ignorance is no sin." She looked up at him, with red puffy eyes and fresh tears running down her cheeks. "A lesser man would take advantage of such an innocent girl. But you, sweetling, you only need the proper instruction." He soothed her.
"Will you teach me, my lord?" she begged him and hugged his stocky leg to her chest. Her ample breasts parted around the meaty appendage and the crumpled shoulder of her gown fell down her arm, exposing her porcelain skin down to the breast.
"I am a most, enthusiastic, and most vigorous, teacher." He chuckled deeply, and bid her rise by lifting her chin up. "Stand. Let me get a look at you, sweetling." She did as she was told. Her robe half hung off her body, and she covered her exposed skin with her arms but didn't move to reposition her clothing.
"Place your hands at your sides." He commanded, and she obeyed. Gravado wiped a bit of premature sweat from his brow, his loud breathing quickened with his growing excitement. As she breathed in, the robe started to fall, bit by bit at first, held in place by her hands on her hips ay last conflicted attempt at modesty. When it finally fell, she drew breath in sharply, her knees started to shake under her. But Gravado, only sighed audibly in appreciation. "You are the most beautiful blossom in this savage garden. It is a miracle of God's will that such beauty could exist amidst such barbarism." He sighed. It was intended at a compliment, but the comparative insult was not missed.
"What...what is my lord's desire?" she asked meekly, and placed a hand to her cheek in embarrassment.
"Oh, my dear flower, I would take you from this place, and give you a proper home in my garden." Gravado said as he touched her skin, delicately, his fingers traced the curve of her hips, up her side, and cupped the underside of a firm breast. She whimpered, with the barest hit of restrained pleasure in his touch. "But such a flower must first be trained in the duties of a concubine. Kneel before me my sweetling." She did as she was commanded.
"Take care to undo my clothing," he ordered, and she began. At first her fingers fumbled at the sash wrapped many times around his belly. But once she worked the knot free, she slowly slid the fabric apart and pulled it free. His golden robe parted, and his sun darkened skin appeared. She gasped as she beheld his manhood as it sprouted between his thick thighs directly towards her. She blushed. It was dark, like he was, moistly hairless, like him, and short and fat, just like him.
"This is a husband's swelling," she breathed in amazement.
"Touch it," he commanded. "Pet it. Stroke it. And then kiss it tenderly." She did as he instructed. Daring to touch it at first, but then wrapped her petite fingers around his impressive girth. It twitched in response to her touch, and she gasped in surprise. She looked up to find her lord lost in pleasure with his eyes close.
"Does my touch please you, my lord?" She said and began to stroke it slowly with her fingers. He moaned in approval and nodded. Instinct took over and she massaged its length. Slowly she felt it grow in her hands; pulsing and throbbing angrily at her until it took both hands to wrap around its girth. Remembering her instructions, she leaned in and kissed it. Tenderly at first, with soft pecks, but he did not seem impressed. She let her lips linger a bit more, traveling its length with her tender kisses.
"Ohhh, my sweetling," he moan pleasurably. "That is very good. Now, caress it with your tongue." He instructed. She did as commanded, giving it long sensual licks.
Gravado's eyes rolled back into his head and he almost collapsed backwards. Intuition guided her fingers to his hairless scrotum, and gingerly she massaged his balls. His cock twitched angrily at her, but its owner contradicted it with a loud sigh of appreciation.
"I am ready Sweetling, come to me." He commanded and lay backwards onto the bed properly. She rose bashfully, and climbed into bed next to him.
"What am I to do, my lord?" she blushed deeply.
"Sit atop me, let our most holy and secret parts touch and become one, as God intended." He feverishly said as his hands ravaged her small form, caressing all her curves from her hips to her chin. She did as instructed straddling the large man, and sitting atop his eager cock until it touched her fire colored bush. She was not expecting the sensation that washed over her from the contact, and she let loose a surprised gasp. Her hips started to move of their own, as she ground her wet mound against his stout member. Gravado's roaming hands found her pert, white breasts and started to massage them. Waves of pleasure overcame her timidness and lent her new courage to her task. Something instinctual took over and she angled her hips until his girth parted her wet lips. It felt so good somehow, but he was too big for her. It hurt at the beginning and she yelped.
"My precious flower. My Sweetling." Gravado moaned as he slowly entered her. It was almost all she could take as pain became too much. Something wasn't quit right, there was some resistance to the rest of him, and she badly wanted it to enter her completely. Sensing her difficulty, he placed to thick hands on her hips and thrust up violently, penetrating her hymen. She shrieked suddenly, and collapsed forward onto him, shaking.
"You are now a woman, my Sweetling." He reassured her, and stroked her back and head. "The pain will go, and the pleasure shall return, give it a moment." He kissed her cheeks and soothed as she wept. But true to his words the pleasure of having him completely inside her took over, and she started to move her hips against him. Her whimpers of pain, turned to whimpers of pleasure, and eventually she sat back up to enjoy as much depth of his member as she could. Gravado seemed to having a fit of sorts, but she was too enraptured with this breath taking experience to have noticed. Suddenly his meaty manhood convulsed inside her and something warm and wet erupted within, coating the inside of her womanho
od.
It panicked her, breaking the spell of passion. Until his kind, reassuring hand touched her cheek and he looked up at her with a content, sated, and utterly enraptured look in his face.
"That, my sweetling, is the reward for a task well completed – a man's seed to pollinate your sweet flower." He coed. "Come, lay with me until the sun rises." Flustered, red cheeked, and breathing heavily she begrudgingly did as ordered. Even though her body wanted more, this was all he could provide for now.
When his deep breathing turned to snores, she disentangled herself, rose from the bed, robed herself quietly, and left her charge to his rest. The Madam was awaiting her patiently on the other side of the door...
Trent rapped on the alleyway door once more, and pressed his ear to the wood. He knew this was the place – there were voices inside, and a few musicians. The rhythm of the muffle speech was uncoordinated and boisterous, indicative of heavy drinking and carousing. She was here.
He knocked louder. It creaked open slowly and a large man in a sleeveless tunic answered. He stared down at Trent, and Trent up at him.
"New in town, heard this was the place to be at night." Trent growled. "Trader. made my business, now I want to celebrate." He gave them man a bit of a feral snarl, to make it seem he was a bit uncivilized. "Don't worry mate, guardsman gave me the run down. I'll behave."
"Sorry, we're full up." The door Jack replied.
"I've got coin," Trent lifted up his purse and jingled the coins. The door jack took one look behind him before slinging the door bolt out of the way and opening the door.
"Thanks, mate." Trent replied in his lackadaisical speech and patted the man's bulging arm.
"I'm not your mate Skinner, just watch your manners here." The Jack replied and secured the door.
Trent found an unoccupied table not too far from the stage, some businessmen he thought he recognized occupied the one next to him, but they were more interested in the serving girl and her revealing, low cut gown to pay him mind. He ran his hands over his black hair and leaned back to wait and take in the surroundings. This certainly seemed like her place. Sin, temptation, easy marks - they were all here. But so far he hadn't spotted her. Either she wasn't here in this room or worse she had changed her looks again. Working with a magic user was something new that he needed to learn how to deal with. Part of him dreaded the hassle this was becoming, but part of him welcomed the experience he would learn. The more he processed the situation, the more he wanted to see what she could do – if she was hiding form him in plain sight, he dared her to try and escape now. Then he caught her scent – she was certainly here. If he was going to test her, then he needed to disappear and watch. Besides, he had his own mission to get back to. Trent rose and tracked down the door Jack in the back he had made acquaintances with.
"Friend," Trent said as he approached in an unassuming way. "I hear there's a right proper lass that runs this place. I was wondering if you kerd introduce me. I may have some items she'd be interested in procuring." And he left it at that. The man uncrossed his burly arms, smiled, and quickly grabbed Trent by the neck in one meaty hand.
"I thought you had coin to spend. We're not buying." He said with a smile.
"Can't we do both?" Kreth grunted out as he grabbed the man's arms. Slowly the burly man lifted Trent up into the air with one arm. "I'm nae talking skins, although a nice bit of smooth leather wouldn't be out of the question, I'm talking something a bit more... discreet. Something... lucrative." He made a point of fumbling with the big words.
"I'm listening," the door Jack lowered him but kept a tight grip on Trent's neck as he started to pull him towards the door.
"Certain distillations of unnatural essences..." Trent managed to gasp out.
"Merle," Came a woman's voice in a heavy foreign accent. Both men looked over to see the Mistress standing before them in her regal beauty. With a single raised hand from her, Trent was released and Merle went back to watching the patrons. The Mistress walked to her beaded curtain, pulled it aside with one graceful movement, and motioned for Trent to enter.
"Right, thanks that." Trent said respectfully and followed. He was going in deep now. If he hadn't been thrown out into the street at mentioning contraband substances, then this group certainly had a dangerous side.
A single candle illuminated the Mistress's lair sitting alone on a center table. The room held very little furniture, just the table, a desk of sorts near the far wall with all sorts of legers and parchments. Trent glanced at a writing style he was not familiar with. But more importantly a spiral staircase in the back that wrapped around a pole – he hadn't seen one before. His guide let the beads fall into place behind her noisily and proceeded to the stairs.
"Take every second step." She instructed and proceeded to do just that. Trent followed her lead and they rose to the second floor and into a dark, tight hallway – a secret passageway. As they proceeded down it, his sharp hearing could just barely make out the faint sounds of passion on the other side of the wall. This corridor shared walls with all the upper rooms, and he could tell this establishment was having a very busy evening. Trent almost thought he spotted hidden door handles along the wall every six to seven paces. She led him to a solid oak door and opened it. He followed her into a bedroom of sorts, only this one was more personal to her foreign tastes.
"Welcome to my Lair," She said with a hint of amusement.
"Said the spider to the fly," Trent replied, maintaining his rough dialect. "Right. I know a trap when I see one. So we can cut to the chase, darling. And if I get my throat cut... well, we'll hope that doesn't happen."
"You are very sharp for such a simple trader in rare substances," She mused and glided over the floorboards to land gracefully on an arm couch, her dress floated down to cover her respectfully, leaving Trent to stare with this fierce blue eyes. If she was dangerous, she certainly wasn't capable of doing him harm directly... Trent took a moment to look around, and confirmed that they were indeed alone. "...but then a trader in rare substances cannot be a real fool, they would not survive."
"I hear many things, as a Spider," She smiled and played with a ruby earring. "What are you looking for, I wonder? Is it a woman to keep you company? This we have..." She rose slowly and moved to a cabinet against the wall, and opened a crystal decanter holding a tan liquid. "Are you looking for Brothers of Blue?" she mused as she poured a glass. "This too, I have heard." She poured a second glass. "Are you looking for a Sister of Red?" she turned around with a demure smile and handed him one of the glasses. "All of these things I can provide." She leaned in close and brought her glass to her maroon lips and drank, all the while keeping her eyes locked on his. Those dark eyes seemed to drink his will away as she stared. It wasn't her foreign allure, or the relative ambiance, or the quiet seclusion they now shared that was suddenly making the blood rush to his head - it was the danger she was giving off. She seemed harmless, and was very beautiful, but he could almost smell the death she radiated. He liked danger, he suddenly came to realize. Trent took a sip of the drink as he considered his reply, it wasn't a prudent move, but it was the boldness of it that was exciting him – he would play her game.
"What's the price," he said dropping all pretenses – and the country accent. Trent finished the rest in a gulp. The Madam arched an eyebrow in skepticism.
"A fair exchange," she said with a smile as she took his empty glass. "For which would you like to first open negotiations for." She said as she came to sit on the edge of her bed. It was simple, flat and very wide with red satin sheets. Her hands caressed their soft texture beside her as she ever so slightly leaned back and looked up at him. The spider was inviting him further into her web. Trent forced down the surging chaotic urges swelling inside him and focused on the mission at hand.
"The Blue Brothers," he said seriously.
"Information for information then," she replied, almost sounding disappointed.
"Ask," he almost growled.
"Is The Father
still leading your monastery?" She replied coyly. Trent's skin crawled and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck from her implication. "I assume from your silence that he still is, and that you know nothing of a threat to his person."
"He would be a hard target to threaten," was all Trent could respond with. "Despite his age he is still very strong."
"Indeed. Since you know nothing, I change my request," she said. "What led you here, in search for your Blue Brothers?"
"Some of our brothers were caught selling contraband goods. They fought back, and were killed in the process." Trent played her game.
"Yes, I heard it was a Zecairin agent." She replied and ran one foot up her stocking covered shin slowly. "They are terrible demons, how unfortunate for those men."
"You don't sound concerned with their fate," Trent gathered.
"No," she said with a smile. "They were someone else's pawns. They are of no consequence to me. But I will miss their business. Do you employ many Zecairins in your monastery?" She asked amused. Something in her tone, something challenging, and they way she smiled hinted that she did not believe that report.