Hilda and Kana: Treasure of the Bandit Queen - Part 2

Part 2

We searched the rest of the room, of course, but didn't find anything else of immediate value. The papers might have contained something but we lacked both the time and expertise to properly search them. As it was, I gave them only a brief search. A detailed map of the local area caught my eye and I shoved it into my belt. The Bandit Queen's pay book also looked promising so I packed it away at the bottom of the gold chest, it having the most room. The pay book sat next to a fancy writing set comprising vividly coloured inks and quills made from the feathers of fantastical birds. I honestly couldn't tell if it was treasure or tool. In the box it went anyway. We left soon after. The bandits would surely return eventually and if not them, someone would come seeking to loot the Bandit Queen's fabled treasure hoard. I planned to be long gone by then, with all the coin, jewellery, gold and of course our unexpected treasure: Isha.

Hilda and I lugged the three chests out of the West Tower and along the walkway. Fire still smouldered in the East Tower so we took the direct way down. Hilda unwound a set of long, strong ropes and we began the process of shuttling everything to the ground, over the side of the stone walkway. It took quite a bit of effort and Isha shook badly as I lowered her into Hilda's waiting arms, but we completed the transfer without disaster.

The land around the Two Towers is rough and mountainous, one of those places even barbarian tribes prefer not to live. Steep rock cliffs and mounds of earth made seeing more than a few hundred yards in a straight line impossible. Only the Two Towers had the height to stand above it all. They're ancient things, if you've never seen them, probably built as a great name's prison in olden days. Such a use would certainly explain their architecture. The East Tower has a ground level door and the bandits had used it as barracks and general storehouse. The West Tower has only one door, halfway up its length and reachable by a stone walkway that joined the two towers. I could just spy it, propped open from our exit. The Bandit Queen used that for herself, maintaining it as a private apartment and grand treasury.

We lugged the chests over to where we'd hidden our horses, two small, hairy beasts, bred for hill work. They looked up as we approached and mine, a chestnut mare, gave me the eye. I'm not one for horses. The upper sections of Malat are kept clear of working animals and we, unlike some of our neighbours, never maintained a strong cavalry. Out in the wider world though, a horse is useful.

"Our ratty nags will collapse under this load," said Hilda and waved with her hand, taking in the horses and the treasure chests. "I'll go see if I can scrounge up a cart."

"I'll play guard then." I pointed my sword at the three chests and one very naked slave.

Hilda led her horse out of the hidden nook and I moved to the saddle bag attached to mine. Inside was food, water, travel supplies and some clothes. I pulled out a heavy weather cloak and gave it to Isha. "You must be cold."

Isha took the cloak and held it in one hand, head cocked as if she didn't know what to do with it. Her fingers loosed and it fell to the ground in a wave of cloth.

"Do you not like my body?" she said and shifted closer, lean powerful muscles moving to present her breasts and face in the best possible light. Her tattoos almost shone. Her eyes were dark and sensual with exotic smoky depths of honeyed amber.

"Very much," I said with a small grin, "but you'll freeze your tits off out here." Her nipples were small and sharp in the cool mountain air.

"My comfort is not your concern. There is much I can do for you, Mistress." Without braking eye contact, she dropped to all fours and crawled forward like a stalking cat. "Many things."

It's times like this that I really love my skirt. Hilda wears trousers and while I'll admit there are some advantages, little things like this make me pick an armoured skirt every time.

Isha ducked underneath and let out a hot breath against my cunt. My flesh prickled. My clit tingled. I shivered all over.

"I am skilled in all the arts of pleasure," she whispered and some harmonic in her voice turned my cunt to melting chocolate. "There are books written on the arts - libraries. My teachers could bring climax with a look or gesture." She leaned forward, tongue teasing the pink inside of my cunt. I groaned as raw desire rolled up my spine. She swept up towards my large clit and circled it, ringing it with tantalising pleasure. It pulsed stiff with blood. Her hands came up, delicate satin fingers which toyed and rubbed my insides.

I normally need some slap and scream to get me going but she managed without any of that. Her tongue hit me just right and I reached down, pulling her deep. "Mmm."

"Enjoying this?" she whispered as she worked two long fingers in and out of me. They touched me deep inside, the kind of places only the most skillfully wielded cocks normally go. "I am your slave, Mistress. I am yours to use. I exist for your pleasure." Her tongue returned to my clit, tiny licks that sent miniature lightning bolts into my body.

A fire burned within me, a red-hot bonfire which grew in heat and intensity with her every motion. I gripped her head tightly through my skirt.

"More," I moaned. "Harder. Faster."

She redoubled her efforts and my cum drew closer and closer. The muscles of my thighs shook and I clenched shut my eyes. She sealed those beautiful lips of hers over my clit and sucked hard. I came. Exploded. I rode the wave of sexual ecstasy like it was a century storm.

My body shook uncontrollably and I almost crushed her head between my powerful thighs. It lasted for long seconds but finally my pleasure dimmed and I collapsed onto the ground, panting.

Isha emerged, her face glowing and stained with my juices. "I hope I pleased, Mistress." She smiled, just a touch cheeky.

"I'd say she did," said Hilda as she walked up, horse and a small cart behind. "Look what I found while you had your fun. The bandits took their horses when they ran but left this behind. Guess they thought it would slow them down. I hear two amazing warrior women threatened to kill them all. Or maybe they just didn't want to interrupt your little love fest."

I didn't dignify her with an answer.

Hilda hefted the treasure chests up and onto the back of the cart. Girl's got some muscles on her. Meanwhile I stripped down my horse and saw to hitching it to the cart.

Even with everything loaded, there was still enough room for the three of us. Hilda sat up front to drive, while I sat on the coin chest in the back and Isha sat cross-legged on the gold. Given that she still hadn't put on a stitch of clothing, it gave me an interesting view of her body. Her cunt opened like a flower, showing glistening pink depths I'd have to ravage at some point. Perhaps I could hire a whore and have him rape her for a few hours. The thought of her screaming so sweetly stirred something in me, but it wasn't quite the sadistic glee I normally felt at such prospects.

Hilda guided the cart as best she could but the land wasn't best suited for wheeled travel. The map helped put us on promising routes but like most maps, it was wrong as often as it was right. The horses managed without too many problems but carts need reasonably flat ground and enough room to spread their axels. On more than one occasion circumstances forced us to stop, unload everything, manhandle the cart passed and obstacle and then reload on the other side. The result was painfully slow progress, a crawling pace that meant we only broke the worst of the ground as the sun set behind us.

As the ground opened up before us, I said, "Isha."

She looked up, eyes inquiring.

"If you don't wish to wear clothes, I'm going to decorate you in other ways." She smiled slightly and nodded. "As you say, Mistress."

"Stand here."

Isha approached and stood where I indicated, at the rough centre of the rolling cart. I moved her limbs into a star pattern. She was my living doll. Her body glowed in the last of the daylight, her skin almost aflame as the setting sun brought out the touch of red in her dusky brown. The honeyed amber of her eyes shone.

"A pretty slave should have pretty things." I opened the chest full of jewellery and pulled out a collection of bracelets and torques. "Let's see." I tried a succession of torques against her elegant neck but none worked, each spoiling her graceful lines in some way. Instead I moved onto the bracelets. It took some experimentation but I found a combination I liked. Staring into her deep eyes, I slipped a copper band over each of her wrists, delicate things engraved with plants that almost matched her tattoos. They glimmered reddish-gold, a perfect complement to her skin.

"Do you like them, Mistress?" she asked. "It is my duty to be as appealing as possible."

"Very much but we're not done yet." I returned to the box and withdrew a delicate bronze anklet chain. "Raise your left leg."

She did so and balanced on a single foot with the skill of a temple dancer. I slipped the chain around her left ankle and locked the catch in place. The links fell against her skin. The chain wasn't tight but not so loose that it would fall off either.

"Very beautiful," I said. "Hilda?"

She glanced over her shoulder and snorted. "One pretty whore you've got there."

I had to frown slightly at that. Isha wasn't a whore. She was a slave and that was very different. She was very pretty, though.

It was passed dark by the time we reached an auberge and my stomach grumbled at the prospect of rich hot food. Lamb, maybe, or goat. They probably wouldn't use near enough spices, but I'd learned to enjoy foreign food in the years since leaving my home.

I retrieved my bad weather cloak from my pack and gave it to Isha. "Put it on," I told her. Games were fun and all but if a girl like her walked into a country roadhouse naked, she'd spend the night taking dick and licking cunt whether she liked it or not. She smiled as she swung it around her shoulders and pulled it tight across her naked body.

Hilda flipped open the coin chest and drew out a deep handful of randomly assorted coins, comprising everything from quarter penny pieces to a square silver cleg. "Tonight," she said with a wide grin, "we celebrate. I need to relax with a good cunt pounding."

Of course, first we needed to stash the loot. Hilda and I lugged the three chests across the road to a small shrine to the Prudent Father. It took some banging but the local provost opened up and we paid the fee to keep everything safe in his strong room.

With that done, we headed back to the now empty cart and saw to the horses. I led them towards the auberge's stables by the reins and they followed placidly enough, not that I truly trusted the animals. A tricksy beast your average horse, full of barbarian sentiment. No wonder Hilda got on with them.

The doors were shut for the night but not locked. Hilda pushed them open and we moved inside. Moaning sounds came from the hayloft, feminine groans inter spaced with masculine grunts.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," said a voice.

"Yes," moaned a second. "Harder."

Hilda rolled her eyes, climbed a nearby ladder and dragged down a spluttering naked stable hand. His cock glistened in the little light, covered in cunt juices. Random pieces of straw stuck from his curly brown hair.

"Right," said Hilda. "You've got a choice. A penny and you take care of our horses. Or a kicking and you do the same."

His eyes went wide with fear and I stepped forward too, looming over him. He gulped, nodded and held out his hand. Hilda placed the penny in it, like a priest offering benediction.

A fat round face peered over the side of the hay loft, skin flushed with arousal. She giggled and waved.

The auberge named itself the Eagle's Head and appeared a typical small village affair, a far cry from the elegant wine houses and spirit parlours of Malat and other great cities. A row of large fires burnt along the far wall from the door and the chairs, tables and benches filled the space in between. A butchered pig sat on a spit over the fire and large black cauldrons bubbled to either side. Perhaps a dozen people inhabited the room, farmer types mostly, with the occasional traveller dressed in road hardened clothes. The proprietrix was a corpulent matron, who held and wielded a wooden spoon as well any king did his sceptre.

"Food, drink and whores," laughed Hilda as she shoved coins into the woman's hands. "And keep them coming."

We ate well. Hilda ripped apart great slabs of steaming pork on thick brown bread. I drank a meaty stew which was spiced with a local plant that tasted of aniseed. Isha nibbled on buttered bread and cheese, having refused anything more substantial.

The drink was good too. Hilda chugged down a sluggish beer with obvious relish, for all that it looked only slightly more liquid than my stew. I partook of a spicy local spirit, which came in a shallow copper bowl. Isha drank tea or what passed for tea in these parts. The drink smelt heavily of ginger and honey, and looked almost the same colour as her eyes.

Food and drink are good but the body needs other pleasures too. Come the end of our meal, Hilda found herself a whore. He was a tall, black haired man with good grooming. I didn't feel like making anyone suffer so I didn't bother. Instead, I took Isha and we followed Hilda to our room.

I found Hilda knelt naked on the rough wooden floor, sucking on the whore's long, full cock. It's a habit of hers, picked up after a miss adventure a few years back. She bobbed up and down, lips sealed tight even as her eyes projected a mixture of intense arousal and resentment. I try not to get off to Hilda's pain but, well, some things are beyond even my control and my cunt juiced more than a little.

The whore had his hands resting lightly on her head. His eyes were scrunched shut. "Yes," he whispered. "Work the head. I'm almost there, almost, almost..." His hands tightened on Hilda's head, pressing furrows in her dense copper stubble. His hips jerked up and he pulled her down. Hilda choked and sputtered and drummed her hands.

When the last of the cum vanished down Hilda's gullet, the whore released her and she erupted upwards. Fury covered her face. "You fucking shit," she screamed. "I'm going to kill you."

She made a lunge for her sword but I got there first. "Hilda," I said. "We don't have time for a dead whore."

"Baby please," he said. "A man's got needs. I just lost control."

Hilda looked up at me, grit her teeth and nodded. Rather than gut the man, she spun round and kicked him in the chest. He stumbled back and fell onto the bed but Hilda didn't let up. She grabbed his head by his black hair and gripped hard. "Listen to me," she hissed. "I own you. You do what I say, got it?" She slapped him hard, once with the front of her hand, then again with the back. "Understand?"

The shock in his eyes turned to fear and he nodded as best he could. "Yes!"

Hilda threw him to one side and he almost bounced off the wooden floor. "Good. Now, I need my cunt pounded. Do it well and I won't cut your balls off."

I watched and smiled at the abuse. Nothing like some pain and fear to get my cunt churning. Isha saw the look on my face and a wicked smile grew on her lips.

"Do you want to hurt me, Mistress?" She cocked her head and her long black hair swung like silk. Her tattoos caught the light of the lamp such that they shone almost liquid. Slowly, sensually, she lifted the left side of her cloak to reveal her breast and held the small swell up to me. "I like to be hurt. I am trained in all the pleasures of pain." Her nipple was a sharp hard numb. She stood there, so proud, so vulnerable, and bit her lip. Her white teeth dug deep into pouty flesh.

I saw red. There was just something about Isha asking for pain, the utter primal lust of it.

Using all my strength, I shoved her back onto the bed. She landed with a thump and a huff of expelled breath. Then I was on her. I kissed her hard. My teeth sank into her lower lip even as my tongue forced its way into her mouth. She tasted sweet - of honey and ginger - and I drank her in. My left hand attacked her cunt, two fingers forced deep. My right grabbed the offered breast and dug in like claws. She moaned, a deep cry of erotic pleasure.

"You want pain?" I hissed into her face. Her pupils were wide, dilated black voids swimming in seas of amber. I found her nipple and pulled hard, turning her breast into a cone. "You want this?"

"Yes," she moaned and her cunt creamed itself around my fingers.

To our side, the whore fucked Hilda. He slammed in and out, deep powerful strokes that shook the bed.

"Fucking yes!" cried Hilda and slapped the man's face. His cheek glowed red. "Harder."

I fell into a rhythm with them, driving into Isha with all the force of animal lust. It wasn't a proper fist fuck - it takes a certain clarity of mind to work a hand into something as small and tight as a cunt - but it wasn't prissy virginal love either.

I kissed her even harder than before, bruising her lips and drinking in her screams of ecstasy. At some point she started cumming but I didn't stop. A flush ran the length of her body and stoked the fire in her dusky skin. She screamed like a tortured spirit. I kept assaulting her, ravishing her, owning her body and soul. The flesh of her cunt glowed red with blood and sexual arousal. She spasmed again on my fingers, skin and flesh almost electric with energy.

Hilda and her whore collapsed into a sweaty pile to the side but I didn't stop. Instead I flipped Isha and pulled her to my breast. "Bite," I said as the sickly pleasure of anticipation ran through me.

She did and her small, sharp, wicked teeth sank deep into my breast. It hurt, oh city founders it hurt, but that pain only fuelled the fire of my passion. I tried to pull her off but she stayed latched, like the jaws of a spring trap. Her eyes showed fiery determination. She was steel tempered in fire. Blood showed on my breast where the sharpest of her teeth broke the skin.

I finally wrestled her free and she grinned up at me, teeth gleaming and just a touch red. I pulled her down towards my cunt and she set to it with the fury of a storm. This wasn't the skillful artistry of our rendezvous in the mountains. This was pain made pleasure. She bit at my fat lips, nipped at my clit and stretched me with her fingers. Again and again. Teeth and lips and hands. The sensations hit me like a war hammer, all together and all too much.

Within seconds I exploded. Blackness swallowed the edges of my vision and I screamed. A wave of twitches ran through my muscles, random stochastic motions that made it seem snakes swam under my skin. It was all too much, incredible, soul rending.

When it at last passed I just lay on the bed, too drained to move. Isha crawled up my body and I summoned the effort to raise an arm and drag her close. Her body felt like a stone fresh from the boiling pot, hot and warm and just perfect on a cold night. We spent the night huddled together in sleep.

But all good things must come to an end.

Continued in Part 3

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