by J. Sselxuyt
“I really just—“ I try to stop her, but she cuts me off.
“Satisfy me, Traveler, and I’ll tell you what you want to know. Otherwise the lord that took her will be having virgin tonight.” She grabs the front of my jerkin and tries to pull me into a kiss, but my arms move faster, gripping her wrist, and spinning her about. Her body presses back into me, and she moans, our leather clothing rubbing together as she gyrates her hips.
Well, it’s not as though it’ll be a real hardship, I think, feeling her slender body in my arms. I shove her away a little harder than I need to, and she stumbles before me. She recovers quickly enough, and turns, ready to strike me with her whip.
The leathery tip whistles my way, and I catch it before it strikes my face.
Kill her! Kill her while you still can! Let me taste her. I want her blood!
Shut up, I mentally command Muramasa. I’ll stab her with a different sword.
“How dare you treat me like this,” the innkeeper cries out, trying to yank her whip out of my hand.
Her strength is a lot less than mine, and I yank her to me, using her own weapon. I catch her as she stumbles, and this time it’s me that pulls her into a kiss. She remains frozen for a second, before thawing slightly. I feel her lips part to allow my tongue in.
Pulling back, I watch as she blinks in confusion. I use her distraction to yank the whip entirely out of her hands. While she’s off balance, I use her own weapon against her and tie her up.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands. Anger smolders in her brown eyes.
Looking around the room, I see a number of faceless people watching us. I feel the grin split my face before I consciously will it. She looks around the room as well, and I see panic enter her eyes.
“I think I’m going to get that information out of you,” I tell her cheerfully.
“No! Not out here in front of everyone. What I do, I do in private.” She tries to fight against her bonds, but it’s useless. The leather of the whip refuses to budge against the leather of her costume.
Pulling her over to a counter, I find a small knife sitting on the other side. Gripping it, I brandish it before her fearful eyes, before slipping it into a fold of her leather bellow where the whip is holding her captive, and start cutting. The leather is supple, but it still takes me a few moments to cut it away. Moments filled with her squealing and threatening me. I ignore her.
“No! You can’t do this! I am the mistress here. I won’t be treated like this in my own place.” I turn her around as I continue to cut through her leather. I’m surprised at how little she’s really struggling, despite her words. Dropping the knife, I’m able to pull down the bottom half of her costume, and can smell her arousal.
Standing back up, I release the end of her whip and undo my trousers, letting them fall to my ankles with a clatter as Muramasa strikes the wood floor. I only step out with one leg, before bending her over the counter.
“Don’t you dare!” she cries out, belying her body’s reaction to my rough treatment. “Not out here! I’m not some horse for you to display for everyone.”
Pulling back my hand, I bring it down hard on her rump, making her cry out, and leaving a red handprint behind.
“You might not be a horse, but I’m still going to ride you. You wanted me to satisfy you,” I whisper in her ear, leaning over her body and nestling my cock between her cheeks. “Now just shut up and take it.”
“No,” she cries again. I can hear the tears in her voice. “Not out here! Everyone will see! At least take me back to one of the rooms. You can’t do this!”
Grabbing the base of my cock, I begin to rub it up and down along her nearly dripping slit. She jumps at the first contact between our genitals, and I actually hear a slight whimper escape her throat.
“Mistress,” I hear Mara’s slight voice say close by, “do you want me to stop him?”
Wasting no more time, I drive my hips forward, impaling her cunt with my pole. Her head flips back, and I see her mouth forming a large ‘O’.
“Mistress?” Mara repeats, and the innkeeper just glares at the faceless woman until she backs away.
Taking another glance around the room, I see that we have everyone’s attention. A few faceless patrons even have their pricks out, stroking them to the beat of me slipping into this domineering woman.
“How dare you fuck me in front of everyone!” she yells back at me as I slip in and out of her tight cunt, but I can feel her start to move in time with my thrusts. “This is my job! I’m, ungh, the boss here. I, uh, make the rules. Oh God! You will not make me cum in front of . . . in front of . . . in. . . . Oh shit!”
Her pussy grips my phallus hard as her body shudders in the throes of passion. Apparently the thought of everyone watching her is enough to send her over the edge.
I feel renewed with vigor at the thought of being able to get this woman off. She’d said I was only the second, and I can’t feel too jealous about whoever the other person was.
I wait for her to finish shuddering, before I pull out, and aim for her other hole.
“Wait! No, you can’t. I charge extra for that. You can’t—ungh.” She drops her head to the countertop as I slip inch after inch of my meat into her anus, relishing the feeling of her tight sphincter slowly sliding up my rod. “No, no, no. . . .” she says repeatedly; until I land a slapping blow on her other cheek. Making her jump and her anus tighten deliciously on my cock.
“You’re going to be a good little girl and tell me what I want to know, aren’t you,” I don’t ask, but state.
She nods her head, but that’s not good enough for me. Reaching forward, I grip the back of the collar of her top with my right hand, and a handful of her dark hair with the other. Pulling back on both, I stand her upright, enjoying the new angle this causes her colon to take around my schlong. “Say it,” I command her, and then have to stifle a moan as my command makes her colon tighten as she has a minor orgasm.
“Yes,” she gasps. I realize I’m choking her with her own top by pulling back on it. I don’t let up.
“Louder,” I command her, pulling my hips back, and slamming them forward, pounding into her ass to emphasize my desire.
“Yes, Master!” she tries to scream. I loosen my grip on her collar, but pull back more on her hair.
“Where did they go?” I ask my obedient slave.
Reaching around her body, I somehow already know that her pussy is bald and easily find her clit. I place my finger against it, but don’t move it, or apply pressure while I wait for her answer.
“They . . . they went north, Master,” she says around moans, trying to move her cunt against my hand.
“Good girl,” I whisper, nipping lightly at her ear. “You can cum now,” I give her permission as I pinch her clitoris between two fingers.
Her wail of pleasure rebounds off the walls, and I see some of her patrons start to fire off their seed as they cum too. Her rear clamps down hard on my tool, and I’m soon firing off into her colon, grunting with each spurt.
I pull out of her ass, and realize there is still one final step to her conversion. “Get on your knees and clean my cock,” I command her as I loosen the whip still bound tightly around her torso.
She doesn’t even hesitate, before dropping to her knees in front of me, gripping my softening cock, and starts cleaning it with her mouth. I notice that it is clean of anything untoward, before it disappears between her lips.
I can feel her tongue swirling around the tip of my over-sensitized phallus, and decide to pull out of her mouth. Leaning over, I grip her cheeks in my hand, and stare into her brown eyes. Not a trace of defiance is left, only complete submission. “That was very good, innkeeper. Now I want you to finish off any other patrons that haven’t gotten off to our little show.”
“Sheila, master,” she says quietly. “My name is Sheila. Will you ever come back?”
Pulling up my trousers, I turn and walk out, without giving her an answer, but so
mething about her name tickles the back of my mind. What is it about her that—my mind grows thick with fog again and I dismiss the question.
A young woman bumps into me as I try to leave. “I’m sorry, mister,” she mumbles an apology. I feel her hand at my waist. Gripping her wrist, I pull it away before she can draw Muramasa.
“You don’t want to do that,” I growl at her, looking down into a young face framed by brown hair. Two blue eyes refuse to meet mine.
“Help!” the girl screams. “Rape!”
“Ha, ha,” a faceless male patron behind me scoffs at her. “We already know his worth. And the rest of us know your thieving ways, Ondy. It’s about time someone caught you.”
Without releasing her wrist, I drag her out of the brothel.
“Did she tell you?” the older farmer asks as I walk out, ignoring the struggling girl in my grasp. “I heard some yelling in there. Did you have to get rough?”
I chuckle lightly as I answer him, “You could say that. It was definitely some lord, and he took your daughter north.”
“Who’s this?” he asks, finally noticing the girl.
“A little thief,” I tell the farmer. “What should we do with her?”
“We can’t take her with us,” the man says, but I see he is eyeing the younger woman. “It’ll be too dangerous.”
“I can fight!” the girl states, twisting her arm just right and escaping my grip. “Let me help you. It’s the least I can do to make up for trying to rob you.”
I look doubtfully at her, but she had escaped my grip.
“You can fight?” the farmer echoes my thoughts.
“I can!” she exclaims indignantly. “Let me borrow your sword,” she says, turning to me, “and I’ll show you.”
I grip the hilt of Muramasa protectively as I glare at her. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, girl.” I turn to Thomas, but he already knows what I’m going to ask, and nods. “Test your skills bare handed against him,” I tell the thief.
“But he has a. . . .” she trails off as Thomas removes the sword from his hip and hands it to me. She barely even waits for him to let go, before springing her attack.
I can tell right away that she has speed on her side as the veteran farmer barely blocks her fist. She aims a kick for his hip, but he scoots back, and her foot passes harmlessly by. With her now off-balance, Thomas takes advantage, and delivers a quick open-handed blow to her back.
Ondy stumbles forward, but recovers quickly and with grace. This time she’s wary as she faces her opponent, trying to get a better grasp of his skills. The two trade precise blows, blocking and dodging as necessary, while gauging each other’s capabilities.
Where did the old man learn to fight like that, I wonder, and then remember that he’d been in some war. Still, it doesn’t seem to sit right that he’s this good.
I see him slowing, and she notices it too. With a triumphant yell, she dodges around a weakened jab, and goes in for the final strike.
Thomas nearly blurs, and before I know it, Ondy yelps and is on her back. Thomas is sitting on her stomach, her arms held against her sides by the older man’s legs.
“Yield,” Ondy cries out, seeing the game is lost.
The older farmer gets up, and I hand his sword back to him.
“You’re fast, girl, but you’re also impatient.” He reaches down and offers her a hand up. She disdains it, and gets back up on her own.
“You tricked me,” she complains.
Thomas laughs heartily, before replying. “In a fight for your life, never assume you know your opponent. They just might surprise you.”
“But we weren’t fighting for our lives. It was just a little sparring,” she defends herself.
Thomas scowls at her. His tone grows deadly serious. “Every fight is a fight for your life. Don’t forget that.” He sucks in a deep breath and continues in a more moderate tone, “You’re welcome to come with us; I guess we could use your help. You know how to fight, but you also have a lot to learn.”
Thomas turns north, and I fall into step next to him. A couple seconds later, Ondy comes running back up to us. “Will you teach me?” she asks Thomas, and he only grunts in assent. “I don’t have a weapon.” She says next. Without looking, the old man produces a dagger from nowhere and hands it to her. This man is more dangerous than I’d originally given him credit for.
The woman slips the dagger into a sash around her hip. We walk for a ways in silence. Ondy proves her worth as she finds tracks on the edge of town, heading north.
Straight into a forbidding looking forest. Yay.
“We should go around,” Ondy states, but Thomas shakes his head.
“My daughter’s in there, and I’m going to get her back.” His tone is so adamant that I decide not to argue.
“I know these woods,” Ondy declares unhappily. “If we run into any problems, let me do the talking.”
Keeping one hand on the hilt of Muramasa, and both eyes open, I follow Thomas and Ondy into the dark forest.
The first sign of trouble comes from Ondy as she yelps and jumps back, brandishing her dagger. A shadowy form steps out onto the path, their features obscured by the gloom of the area. I can tell that this person at least has a face.
“Leave your weapons and all your money, and we’ll let you leave with your lives.” A slight breeze blows through, and a shaft of light pierces the branches, giving me a quick look at her face. Short brown hair and a blue eye. Her left eye is covered by an eye patch. I have just enough time to make out a crossbow in her hands, before the light is blocked again.
She also has the biggest knockers I’ve ever seen on a woman, her bodice is cut low to take full advantage of her incredible cleavage.
“I’m just trying to find my daughter,” Thomas yells to the woman, ignoring Ondy’s indignant hiss at not being allowed to talk first. “Did you see her come by here? Some men took her.”
The woman laughs throatily before answering. “You mean that little slip of a thing riding in that lordly man’s lap? Didn’t look to me like she wanted rescuing.” She laughs again, and there’s a coldness to it this time. “Of course, she was also out cold, but the man’s hands were all over her.”
“You bitch,” the farmer screams, drawing his sword and charging the woman.
She lazily lifts her crossbow, and I barely have time to shout a warning before she fires the quarrel at him.
A loud clang resounds through the forest, and I’m certain the bolt is lodged in the man’s breastplate. His sword clatters to the ground, and I see him hunch over, holding his hands close to his chest.
“She only has one bolt,” Thomas gasps. “Get her before she can reload.”
Before I can begin to move, the trees and leaves around us rustle. I watch as faceless people step out of the shadows, some holding crossbows and regular bows, some holding daggers and swords.
In the time it takes me to notice the rest of the bandits, Ondy has moved over to check on Thomas.
“Is he okay?” I ask, still wary to draw Muramasa.
“I’m fine!” he yells. “Damn bitch hit the cross-guard and knocked my blade out of my hands.”
I breathe easier as I hear those words.
“Look,” I say, addressing the well-endowed woman, “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just trying to retrieve his daughter. We have no money, and our weapons aren’t worth your effort.”
“Any weapon is worth the effort, Stranger, even the sword between your legs,” she laughs at me, “or is that one only a little dagger, not worth anything more than buttering my bread? ’Course that one on your hip looks rather nice as well.”
“This blade is cursed,” I inform her. “Believe me when I say I would hand it over if I could.” I look around at all the faceless bandits, trying to formulate a plan. “What will it take to leave here unmolested?”
“It’s too late for that, but for a bit of entertainment, we may let you leave with your gear,” her almost too quick reply ma
kes me worried.
“What kind of entertainment?” Ondy asks, just as worried. As the only woman in our group, she has the most to lose.
“Sorry, sweety,” the bandit leader quips, “you aren’t my type, and I have plenty of men to satisfy me if I want.” She starts to unlimber her shoulders, turning her neck from side-to-side, and I have a feeling I know where this is going. “How’s about we go one-on-one, to the death. You win, and you walk free. I win. . . . Well, if I win, let’s just say I’ll end up with your stuff anyway.”
“I accept,” I say easily, confident I can beat this one eyed woman. I walk over to pick up Thomas’s sword, but he yells at me to stop.
“No,” he tells me. “She disarmed me with her little trick. I need to regain some honor, and I don’t want anyone else touching my sword.”
He picks up his blade, or tries to. His right hand doesn’t seem to want to properly wrap around the grip, but he grunts and picks it up with his left hand. Giving it a few practice swings, he faces the bandit leader, sword up and ready. I just hope he’s good enough with his left hand.
“You’re hurt,” Ondy exclaims. “Don’t do it.” When he doesn’t respond to her, she turns to me. I can see the pleading in her eyes. When did she start caring so much? “You can’t let him do this. I know who she is!” She flings her arm out, pointing at the female bandit. “That’s Jenny of the Large Pennies. She’s a dead shot with any bow, and nearly as good with a blade. She’ll kill him.”
“Not nearly as good, darling,” Jenny says sweetly, “better.”
I understand Thomas’s position, though, and know he needs to do this for his honor. If anyone else fights for him, he will lose even more face.
“Take care of my daughter, Stranger. Thanks for your help to this point.” The man’s words are solemn, and I take it he’s heard of her too.
“The name’s Lyden Snow,” I tell him, at least wanting him to know whom he’s traveling with.