Kingdom of Yute: Tor's Betrayal

by Madison Hayes

  “Get a room, Harnesson,” Jet complained loudly, hiccupping with laughter.

  And I’ll be damned if Davison didn’t slip me a key and a nod—toward the hall leading to the back rooms he rented.

  Have you ever been with a woman and felt as though you wanted to do everything—everything—with her, to her, and somehow have it last forever while you’re at it? I closed the door behind me and turned to look at Spark. And in that moment I wanted her with every inch of my body. I wanted to take her with my mouth, my fingers, my dick, my palm spreading her pussy lips and rubbing into her warm, wet sex. I wanted to take her in every way possible and all at once. And I wanted her doing me the same way. I wanted to come between her breasts, against her belly, with her hands on my cock and her fingers stroking my balls, with her tongue licking me until I was tight and ready to burst, sucking my cock and swallowing me whole as I fucked her mouth, her cunt and everything in between. I wanted her with her fingers in my crease, nudging against my skin to expand the tight rim of my ass.

  Thor’s Whore. I loved her.

  I remember. The small room with whitewashed walls, the little wooden cot. A tiny window let in a sliver of moonlight to fall on the sheets. The sheets were new. Crisp and almost white. The mattress had been recently filled with fresh straw and a little crushed alfa leaf. To this day, I cannot smell alfa without being transported back to Davison’s Inn—and Spark.

  She was nervous and self-conscious. She sat on the edge of the low cot as I walked toward her, loosening my ties. When I got to her, I turned her head and pulled her face against my groin, rubbing my erection into her cheek—gently, I hope. “Mithra,” I rasped at her. “I want you to take my cock, Spark. In your mouth. But you’re so small.”

  With her hands, she reached into my open leggings and coaxed my cock out into her small warm grasp as I wrapped my hand around hers and showed her what I wanted. Then let go to watch her fingers tighten around my cock and drag up my warm, moist length. I watched, fascinated with lust, those innocent hands performing this carnal act of pleasure.

  Under her shy, hesitant ministrations, my cock burned and stretched and grew impossibly thick, the veins dark, the wide head darker as it started to stream at the head. When she gave me an uncertain look, I smiled and nodded, nudging the dark head against the little kiss of her mouth. Her tongue reached out for me and circled the wide head of my dick, lapping up my pre-cum, then her small mouth closed on me, her lips stretched impossibly wide around my first few inches. With my hands at the back of her head, I pushed into her as I watched my dick between her lips, pulled my shaft out—wet with her saliva—then forged back into the moist envelope of her mouth. I could have come in her mouth. In a few thrusts I could have come. And I wanted to. But I wanted everything else as well.

  Pressing her back on the bed, I fell to my knees and urged her legs open, dragging her shorts down as I put my face in her warm pussy and licked into the pink folds between her legs. I didn’t give her time to think about what I was doing. And I didn’t give her time to be shy. I just kept licking into the full lips of her pouting sex, fumbling her kilt off until I felt her legs loosen, then I pushed her knees over my shoulders and—with my thumb—pulled down on the bottom of her slit while I sucked her clit into my mouth. Her head came up off the bed in a startled gasp and I eased off her a bit, gentling her clitoris with my lips as I reached back for one of her feet and brought it to my shoulder. When I had both her feet on my shoulders, I put my hands at the top of her thighs and spread her knees to flatten her legs against the bed. Leaning back, I blew on the hot, swollen pink of her clit and she whimpered, fist in her mouth, gnawing her fingers with her teeth. The next time I touched her clit, I felt her output slide onto my tongue and I pushed it back at her, smearing her slippery female moisture back into the delicate pink tissue folded between her plump lips. With two thumbs pulling at her opening I covered her pussy with my mouth and ate at her sex with tongue and teeth and lips. When her hands jerked into my hair, I knew she was close. I knew she wanted me to rise on her and enter her.

  But I made her come into my mouth.

  She started to go wild under my mouth, but somehow I stayed with her as her hips jumped and thrust, one moment filling my mouth, the next moment threatening to break from my lips. I kept my lips sealed against her creaming cunt and fucked her with my tongue as she orgasmed into my mouth. And as she jerked out of control, I kept kissing and sucking and dabbing at the knot of her clitoris through the long quaking reaction of her releasing cunt. My thumb stretched out the rim of her entrance as her body shuddered beneath the intrusion of my tongue and I stroked my own balls as she came on me. Then had to grasp my cock at the root to stop myself from spilling on the floor, there between her legs.

  Mithra. I loved her. And I wanted to fuck her more than I wanted to live.

  There was a table in the room. Somehow she ended up on it, still wearing her short jerkin but naked from the waist down. With her feet on my chest and with nothing to impede my entry, I put the broad tip of my cock tight against her notch and thrust my hips forward, watching my shaft enter her deeply, completely, in one hard push. Inside, she was hot and swollen, soft and tight, as her vagina clamped on my length, begging for all a man could give, begging to be fucked hard. I leaned forward with my hands just beneath her knees and took her violently. The gold charm I wore around my neck bounced against my chest as the room filled with the sound of slapping skin and Spark’s small, hoarse cries. Uncertain her whimpering noises represented pure pleasure, I reached around her leg to get my thumb in the top of her cleft and massaged the hump of her rise with my whole hand. With my cock fully rooted between her legs, my balls tight against the damp, smooth skin of her bottom, I felt her vagina seize on me as my expansion stretched into her, filled her, then exploded into blackening, blissful, sinful arrival.

  * * * * *

  The soft glow of dawn filtered into the room and I looked for Spark as I woke. She’d wriggled away in the night and I had to smile at the sight of her. Her little hand was fisted at her mouth, her lips slack and moist. Her eyes were closed, lashes dark gold on her pale cheeks. She slept on her stomach—on her knees, actually—they were tucked beneath her, almost to her chest, her saucy little bottom flung provocatively into the air. I’d woken up hard and wanted only to sink into her, but I’d promised myself more.

  With my knees either side of her head, I straddled her and smoothed my hands down her waist and over her hips to caress her tiny heart-shaped bottom, then leaned over to kiss the pale skin between my spread fingers. Thumbing my way down through her crease, I worked my right thumb—as far as it would go—into her warm, damp opening.

  She murmured and woke with my thumb buried inside her, my fingers spreading downward from there, scraping into her slot, looking for her sleepy clit. I felt her light kiss on the inside of my thigh as her bottom lifted a bit to reach my hand.

  I watched my dick expand and tighten against her back as I worked my fingers through her folds, still sticky from the night before, not yet worked up enough to be wet. My left hand pulled her bottom up and toward me while my right hand continued to work at her clit, now starting to show real interest. Then my fingers were suddenly swimming and I couldn’t help it, my hips were working slowly as I scraped my cock lightly over the long silky stretch of her back.

  She pushed up with her forearms, arching her back at the same time, bringing it into tight contact with my swelling skin and I groaned my appreciation as I rubbed my dick into the smooth silk of her back. At that point, my hand slipped in her pussy and I lost her clit but spread her lips with my fingers and continued to rub three fingers along her slot while my thumb plunged in and out of her slippery little slit.

  With my hand full of warm, throbbing, swollen sex, I glanced down at my shaft, thinking I would just come against her—there and then—and watch my silver seed spurt out to coat her back. But the next thing I knew I was kneeling behind her, pulling her bottom upward as I fought
to force my way into her. The bulging head of my cock was desperately dark as I tried to notch into the first available opening. After a few thrusts against the tight rim of her ass, she must have lost patience with me. Her hand reached between our wet legs and grasped my cock as she tried to guide it down to her weeping vagina.

  “Mithra, no,” I tried to warn her. Then I began to surge into her hand, as my hips continued to pump my cock through her fist, my seed shooting between our legs. Realizing her mistake, she pushed my cock up to meet her pussy and shoved her wet sex back along my erupting shaft. Her little body went crazy beneath me as she started into orgasm and I flipped her onto her back, and contained her twisting contortions beneath my body as I stretched her wrists out to their limit and rubbed my cock into her shimmying body. Rubbed my dick into her wet cleft until my final silver spurt spat out to puddle on her belly.

  A minute later we were laughing breathlessly. Sliding down her body, I wrapped my arms around her while I pressed my cheek into the damp, sticky skin of her smooth, flat stomach. She was covered with my cum, front and back, from her waist to her knees. And I loved the smell of us. The smell of Spark and me together.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked me presently.

  Lazy and content, I licked up alongside her pelvic wing. “That you’re the best little fuck I’ve ever had.”

  “Should I be impressed?”

  “A man can pay a woman no higher compliment.”

  She gazed down at me with smiling eyes. “But have you had enough women to speak with any authority?”

  I smiled back at her. “Yes, my little slagbit, you can be impressed.” At these words, her smile wavered and I realized—too late—I shouldn’t have called her slagbit. “I’m sorry, Spark.”

  “It’s all right. Only. When you use that word, it makes you sound like a nob.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “I love you, Tor.”

  “I’m glad of it,” I answered.

  “I’ll always love you. I’d love you even if you were…nob. Even if you were effing nobguard. I’ll always love you, Tor.”

  “I hope so, Spark.” She was so naïve. She couldn’t know that most men would shrink from this girlish, heartfelt confession. But her loyalty made me want to cry. “What are you thinking?” I threw back at her gruffly.

  Her small, lithe body stretched in my arms. “That I’d like another fuck. A proper fuck this time. A full-contact fuck.”

  I dug my tongue into the tiny cup of her belly button. “Give me ten minutes,” I told her. “It would help if you got rid of that jerkin,” I added.

  I was ready in five. And fucked her properly. Lying on top of her, easing into her slowly, stopping to play with her clit until she didn’t want to play anymore, until she wrapped her legs behind me and held me tightly inside the greedy little fist of her cunt. Then I got onto my knees and pounded into her. She came quickly, suddenly, out of nowhere, in a sparking display of head-tossing and body-thrashing and I felt her nails score deep into my buttocks as she demanded all of me, taking her as hard as I could.

  When she started to scream, I covered her mouth with my hand, captured her tossing head, and lowered my mouth to kiss her through my fingers as I thickened a final time then exploded into her clenching channel.

  Watching her, I lay awake beside her until the morning light was pink. Then I picked her up, wrapped in the sticky sheets, and carried her out the back door of the inn. Cradled in my arms, she was all cozy and warm with sleep. I hope she was awake when she landed in the river. I dove in after her to be sure she didn’t drown. But the Muddy’s not very deep behind Davison’s Inn.

  She came up choking and laughing and I took it for a good sign. With her hand in mine, we climbed the steep sandy bank—where she rested a minute, standing in knee-deep water with her back against the smooth, water-washed wall of the inn. The houses in that part of the city come right down against the river but there were few windows actually facing the river, I noted. When I came up against her, the slope of the bank put my lips at hers and my dick hard at her cleft. I smiled into her eyes. “Thor’s Witch, I want you again,” I told her.

  Before she had a chance to deny me, I pulled her legs apart, bent my knees, and drove up into her. Her mouth formed a perfect little ellipse as she stared into my eyes and I groaned as my skin stretched painfully tight. I looked down at her proud little nipples caught between my rough fingers. “I’m sorry, Spark. Are you too sore?”

  I prayed she wasn’t.

  I heard her voice catch in her throat and I knew she was uncomfortable, having been used the night before as well as that morning.

  “I’m sorry. Mithra, I’m sorry, Spark.” I pulled out of her enough to pump myself a few times, then entered her again slowly. With a few gentle thrusts and my hand on my balls, I threw back my head and came inside the woman I loved.

  When I was done, I had to splash downstream and rescue Davison’s new sheets just before they disappeared beneath the Fish Street Bridge.

  Slogging back through the lazy river, I watched her laughing at me, the morning sun glinting off the wet tendrils of gold that haloed her face. When Spark smiled her face was joy itself, her pretty pink lips stretching to frame her straight white teeth.

  I gave her the chip of soap that Davison’s wife had sent with me and she did me the great honor of washing me. Afterward, I returned the favor. Together we soaped up the sheets, rinsed them and wrung them out. I wore them twisted around my neck as we ran naked up the bank and back through the inn’s rear door.

  Back in our clothes, we joined our friends in the cellar, and I gave her a parting smile as she headed out to the market with Sinda and Jerra. Burro trailed out the door behind them and I experienced a moment’s disquiet but shook it off, thinking the room empty without her.

  Not an hour later, I was sprinting through the door with Thane at my back, racing for the stable.

  Chapter Seven

  Spark

  Something had gone terribly wrong, I dimly realized. I woke in a darkened room and asked for Tor. The sound of chimes was faintly reassuring and that shouldn’t have been the case. A man leaned over me. A man with dark hair and dark eyes. “Don’t move,” he said, lifting my head as he put a cup to my lips.

  I swallowed compliantly as I looked into his marginally familiar face and frowned. “Tor?”

  “Don’t move,” he repeated, using both his hands to turn my head on the bed. I found Tor sleeping in a chair next to the bed. The top of his head was wrapped in white linen. Only—a lot of the linen was red. Tor’s face was pale beneath the white and red bandages. Automatically, I reached for him. Automatically, I wished I hadn’t as my whole world turned scarlet with brutal pain.

  “Hadi’s Gates and Threshold! I told you not to move!” I felt a thick finger slide alongside my gums, precursor to a strange, strong flavor like extracted molasses in coffee. Then I didn’t remember anything for a long time.

  I was hot most of the time, except when I was terribly cold, and I couldn’t tell anyone, and I couldn’t do anything about it. My mind had apparently shut down and was no help at all. The only thing my mind knew for certain was that I mustn’t move.

  At one point, two men were arguing—loud enough to enter my embattled consciousness.

  “She’s fucking streetslag,” one of them was protesting.

  “That’s not your concern.”

  She’s fucking streetslag. For days I was unable to escape the three words, repeated unendingly in my mind.

  Nightlong nightmares ensued. Nightmares in dark alleys with Hugo playing the villain.

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Neels. She’s a good fuck and I’m keeping her.”

  “She’s just a good fuck,” I heard repeated in a flat voice.

  She’s just a good fuck. The words reverberated through my head and were a recurrent theme in my fragmentary dreams.

  The sound of a chair being pushed back, the wooden legs scraping on the ti
le floor, then Tor’s voice at its coldest. “If you ever touch her, Neels, I’ll kill you.”

  The sound of a door slamming.

  She’s just a good fuck.

  * * * * *

  The next time I saw Tor, the bandages were gone and I wondered if I’d dreamed them. As before, he sat in the chair next to the bed I lay in. When I lifted my eyes to his forehead, I found a small white scar just above his left eyebrow. He closed a book and regarded me uncertainly, as though he expected to be disappointed. “Spark?” Then he was on his knees beside the bed. “Spark!”

  The heavy red drapes had been replaced with light sheers, white and frothy. Where the heavy desk had previously reigned, there now stood a delicately carved, oval table. Underfoot, the thick patterned rug hadn’t changed. But my bedcover was spring green splashed with pink.

  I closed my eyes. “No more drugs,” I whispered. “They give me nightmares. Hugo’s been ravishing me every night for—”

  “Three weeks.”

  Three weeks! I opened my eyes. “And the worse part is he’s no damn good. Every night for three weeks and never once has he satisfied me.”

  Tor nodded wryly. “That would be Hugo. How do you feel?”

  “I’d feel better if you kissed me.”

  And he did. It was a small, warm, caring kiss.

  “Do you think you could manage anything stronger?”

  “I could, but I have my doubts about you.”

  I must have looked disappointed.

  “If you could manage some soup, I’d be willing to give you another chance.”

  But I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of thin brown broth.