Tales of Dylak-Leem - Chapter 11

Chapter 11 - Reversals

Lanthel came slowly to awareness, the pale morning sun streaming in her bedroom window. She was nestled in Egrid's embrace, her head pillowed on the swordswoman's green-brown bosom, their legs tangled together. The half-orc had one sheltering arm draped around her, and Lanthel slowly opened her eyes and gave a little sigh of sleepy contentment.

She liked these moments, feeling safe and warm and cared for. A steady diet of that was boring, of course, but Egrid could provide more... exciting moments as well. Like last night. She had trained her orc well, and the sex had been deliciously rough without leaving her too sore this morning.

It really was a pity Egrid was a halfbreed. And a woman. And a thug. The combination of the three kept them from being open about their relationship. Then again, all of those three made it more delicious. Lanthel smiled. She liked to think about Egrid at work, beating people until they were bloody and unconscious, maybe hacking someone to death with her sword, and then coming home, covered in gore. Ripping the clothes off of Lanthel, and throwing her to the ground as she struggled...

She barely smothered a little giggle of excitement. What she sort of wanted now was to wake Egrid up and pick up where they left off last night. But she was still a little drowsy, and she had things to do today, and anyway she knew Egrid could get a bit cranky and sullen if you woke her early in the morning. Lanthel was not what you would call a thoughtful and considerate person, but she had developed a marginal ability to take her lover's feelings and needs into account. It was really the only way their current situation could work, with Egrid now basically a permanent resident of her townhouse.

Slowly, delicately, Lanthel disentangled her slim legs from Egrid's muscular ones. She raised herself slightly on one elbow, and then winced as the chain connected to the fur-lined silver slave collar around her neck clinked. Oh. Right. Egrid had chained her to the bedpost. That could prove problematic.

Egrid stirred in her sleep, her hand sliding down Lanthel's stomach. The elfmaid deftly guided it down further to rest on one thigh, giving her the freedom to sit up in the bed. She stretched, then looked around the room. What had Egrid done with the key? They were both totally naked, so the half-orc couldn't have it on her...

She'd told Egrid in depth about how she was going to whip the savage orc into submission. And then Egrid had wrested the whip away from her. She had fled across the bedroom, only to have Egrid knock her down, drag her across the floor to the bed by one foot, and then chain her to it. She had begged for mercy while Egrid cracked the whip and then...

Okay, yes. Before Egrid had taken off her own clothes she'd dropped the key in a pocket of her leathers.

Lanthel looked around the room and immediately spotted the leathers lying in a heap on the floor. Egrid could be such a fucking slob at times. Hmphing, Lanthel eased herself quietly off the bed, moving Egrid's hand to rest on the coverlet. She crept on bare feet across the patterned carpet and...

The chain stopped her short. Lanthel bent down and silently cursed. Just out of reach. She strained forward, her arm stretching as she reached... almost... got.. it...

Overbalancing, she toppled forward, going sprawling on the rug. Lanthel lay there for a second and threw an utterly noiseless temper tantrum, her arms and legs thrashing in fury. Then, gritting her teeth, she rolled over, sat up on her butt, and extended one leg. They were a lot longer than her arms, after all.

She wiggled on her ass as she stretched one leg out towards Egrid's clothing. Her bare foot brushed through the pile of leather, and she tried to hook it. It didn't want to be hooked. She tried to grab it with her toes, only to find that toes are not so cunning as fingers, being good only for walking and sucking. Scowling, Lanthel went back to trying to hook it.

Eventually her foot slid into one leg of Egrid's pants, and she was able to used that to slowly draw the leathers back towards her. The second it came in range she grabbed it and searched through the pockets. Dropping some of the junk on the floor... except the bag of gumdrops, which she stole to eat herself later... she pulled out the key and brandished it triumphantly. The beautiful elven princess was about to make her escape from the bestial lust-pit of the orcish ravager!

Unlocking the collar, she hung it on the bedpost with the other restraints and walked to her dressing table. She noticed that Egrid had left her sword and a tin of sword polish there; the odors of the polish reminded her of the swordswoman. She got out her cosmetics, and did her face, occasionally posing in front of the mirror.

Lanthel was happy enough with her body. She knew most men and a good number of women liked it. But sometimes she wished for a goddess's body like Tesaiel. Only a little, though. She knew that such magnificence wasn't for her to be, only for her to admire and worship. And maybe more.

When her face was right, she went to the wardrobe and got dressed. Tight white breeches, and a golden top with flared sleeves. Not the most expensive of fabrics... she was on a budget, even with alternative sources of income... but well-cut and figure-flattering. It would do for a coffee date.

Satisfied, Lanthel looked back at Egrid, sleeping in a naked heap on their bed. She thought the swordswoman had today off, which pleased her. Maybe they could do something together when she got back.

It was strange, being in an actual relationship. The only thing she had to compare it to was her and Tesaiel, which was much different. There was a lot less sex, for one thing. Which was tragic, but her sister was recovering frigid and probably hetrosexual, and anyway they were sisters. But Lanthel had her naughty dreams. Given all the things Tesaiel had apparently been up to, who knew what the future might hold?

Blowing the sleeping half-orc a kiss, Lanthel slipped out of the bedroom, went downstairs, and left the townhouse.

---

The cafe was a small and obscure one, overlooking the Kesarde River. The neighborhood it was in wasn't the most fashionable, which kept its prices down, but the coffee was excellent and the pastries weren't bad. Also, you could sit outside in nice weather, which it was.

As Lanthel trotted up to it, she scanned the outside tables. Soon enough she spotted a rather mousy, slightly crosseyed young human woman with brown hair done up in a bun and a blue dress that couldn't decide whether it wanted to be scandalous or prudish. The elf zipped over to her table and sat down opposite her. "Hello, Slut! How are you?"

"Please call me Marie, Lanthel," said Lady Marie Slutskya with the tired resignation of someone who knew what their nickname was going to be from now to the grave. "I suppose I am well. How are you?"

"I'm just delicious, my dear," Lanthel enthused. "I have a feeling it's going to be a wonderful day."

Marie smiled hopefully. "Do you think so? I'm afraid mine hasn't been going so well."

Lanthel adopted a look of sympathy. "Oh, my dear. Is it the dogs again?"

"I woke up this morning to one of them pissing on my face," Marie mumbled, one eye twitching. "I tried to shove him off the bed and he bit my nightgown and tore it off, and I had to chase him half-naked through the house with the servants staring and laughing. I hate those filthy mongrels. I hate them!"

"Why don't you just poison them?" Lanthel asked. "That's what I'd do."

"Father would have a fit. He loves his dogs. Me, not so much, but his precious fleabags..." Marie sighed. "You're so lucky to have independent means, Lanthel. I'd give almost anything to leave that house."

"My poor Slut," Lanthel commisserated. "I feel so bad for you. But I need coffee. Where is the coffee? You're buying, of course."

"Oh, yes, of course." Marie hailed a waiter, who ignored her. She tried again, awkwardly, with an equal lack of success. Flustered, she looked at Lanthel helplessly.

"Waiter!" Lanthel called crisply. Immediately the man strode over. "Yes, miss?"

"Abois Red Mountain coffee for me, and a plate of blackberry pastries. She'll have one of your local blends and some toast."

The waiter bowed, clearly undressing her with his eyes in a polite, low-key sort of way. "Right away, miss."

"I wanted some pastries too," Marie whined as he left. "You always make me eat toast."

"Toast is good for you. Pastries will make your eyes cross even more." Lanthel preened. "Did you see him looking at me? He wants to fuck me."

"Lanthel!" Marie sounded shocked. "Are you sure? Should we leave?"

"No no, Marie, it's a natural reaction. He's too boring for me to let him, of course. But one must take note of it." Lanthel smiled at her. "So, did you get our assignment from the relief committee?"

"Oh yes, of course. You know I never forget these things." Marie beamed at her proudly. "I'm afraid it's not very glamorous this time."

"It never is! They ought to give me the glamorous jobs! I'll kick someone in the balls." Lanthel and Marie were both members of the Urban Committee For Castahari Relief, an unsanctioned organization set up to try and aid the refugees swamping the city from the Drocken invasion of Castahar. The members were mostly respectable upper classes, and their efforts were a little ineffectual amidst the sheer tide of people fleeing the invading horde, but at least it was something. Lanthel had gotten involved out of a vague desire to aid her homeland and for something to do; it also let her leave Fifth Snake God tracts in respectable homes. She suspected Marie had been volunteered by her family.

"We're to peel potatoes," Marie continued. "There's a warehouse on Cheap Street, and we're to go in, peel two thousand potatoes, and take them in a wagon to the soup kitchen."

"Peel potatoes? Me? Potatoes?" Lanthel made a face. "Is anyone else doing this, or is it just us?"

"It's just us," Marie replied. "That's a lot of potatoes for two people. We'll probably be there a while."

Lanthel sighed. Maybe she should just ditch it. No, she couldn't; she wasn't done with the committee quite yet. "Is it at our usual time?"

"Oh yes, of course." Marie looked over. "The waiter's coming back."

So he was. He gave Lanthel a smile from behind a scraggly mustache as he set the coffee and the trays down on their table. "You're looking lovely today, miss," he said with just the right degree of deference in his voice.

"I am, aren't I?" Lanthel agreed. "Slut, aren't I looking lovely today?"

"Hm, ah, yes, yes of course," Marie mumbled.

"Your boyfriend must be very lucky," the waiter continued, fishing.

"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend at the moment," Lanthel told him, smiling.

"Really? Because I know of a small cabaret, good wine, that would be a great place to find a boyfriend during the hours I'm off work."

"Ooooooo, tell me when and where?"

He expertly scribbled something on his order pad and handed it to her.

Lanthel grinned back. "I'll be there."

The waiter bowed, and departed back towards the serving area.

Marie stared at her wide-eyed. "You got a date! It was so easy! How did you do that?"

"Oh, I just sat here and agreed a lot," Lanthel said lazily. She crumpled up the paper he'd given her and tossed it in the river.

"Lanthel! Shouldn't you have kept that? What if you forget the address?"

"Don't be stupid, Slut. I'm not actually going. I just wanted to picture him showing up and waiting for me." Lanthel beamed at her. "He's far too dull for me."

"But... but..." Marie was practically bouncing in her seat with distress. "It was a DATE! With a man!"

"Are you still working on that, my dear?" Lanthel knew Marie lacked her experience with men, although the exact degree was hazy.

"Oh. Well, yes. I don't really know where to begin."

"Begin at the beginning." Lanthel leaned forwards. "Who do you have your eye on?"

"Well... can I tell you, in confidence?"

"Of course, dear love, of course!" Lanthel sipped her coffee.

"I have my eye on Lord Justin Argentcrest," Marie confessed shyly. "He's so handsome, and dashing, and he's been kind to me a few times, which hardly anyone is. And I know he doesn't have a girlfriend. He's respectable but he's not so rich that marriage to someone like me would be out of the question. And I know he's going to be at the upcoming ball at Lady Moundtip's house. I'm going to try and dance with him, and then maybe walk out onto the balcony with him."

"Lord Argentcrest!" Lanthel nodded her head vigorously. "He's a human, of course, but so are you, so that's fine. And he is rather gorgeous, isn't he? And well-mannered. You have very good taste."

"Thank you," Marie said, blushing. "Do you think I have a chance?"

"Well," Lanthel said regretfully, "I'm afraid the fact is... that Lord Argentcrest only likes boys."

Marie spilled her coffee down the front of her dress in shock. "W-what? He what? How do you know? Why do you say that?"

"Well, my dear, last year I attended the Spring Revels in drag. I was immediately approached by Lord Argentcrest, and he led me back to an isolated corner. But as soon as he found out I was really a woman, he lost all interest and made a rather lame excuse and fled." Lanthel scowled. "I was quite put out."

Marie just stared at her. "Why were you in drag?!?"

"Oh, I like going out like that from time to time. You meet the most interesting people. And they react quite differently to one when they think one is a handsome young elven nobleman." Lanthel deliberately licked the rim of her coffee cup with her pink tongue. "Especially the women."

"Maybe he just hasn't met the right woman yet," Marie mumbled dejectedly. "I'll try, anyway."

"Of course," Lanthel agreed. "The worst that can happen is that he'll reject you in front of a roomful of people." She picked up a blackberry tart and happily bit into it. "These are really good. How is your toast?"

"Burnt."

"I'll remember never to order that myself here," Lanthel said. "Eat it anyway. Burnt toast is good for the eyes."

"I don't actually think that's true," Marie said with hesitant rebellion.

"Of course it is. Everyone knows that. Fancy you not knowing that." Lanthel sighed. "My dear, I can see I'm going to need to take you in hand. So that you can get a husband and move out and stop having dogs urinate on you."

"Would you really poison them if you were me?" Marie asked wistfully.

"Definitely," Lanthel told her. She ate another tart with relish. "You can't let a pack of smelly hounds dominate you, Slut. I mean, unless you're into that sort of thing. Personally that's not my taste, but if you enjoy it I won't judge you. Well, maybe a little, because it's really a pretty strange thing to enjoy, isn't it? I had no idea you had such a perverse little mind."

"I don't enjoy it! That's what I've been telling you!" Marie wailed. "I'm not a pervert!"

"Of course not," Lanthel soothed, voice dripping insincerity. "I'm sure you're a perfectly respectable lady, just like me."

Marie nodded vigorously. "That's right! Just like you!"

"I'm glad we sorted that out." Lanthel finished her coffee; she did so love the Abois blends. So much richer than the local beans. "I really must be going now, Marie. I'll see you at the usual time for our potato peeling. We can plan out how to get you a man."

"Oh, that would be so nice of you," Marie said gratefully. "You're so much better at that sort of thing than I am."

There were tree sloths that were better at that sort of thing than Marie, Lanthel reflected. "Do settle the bill for me. Goodbye!" And with that, Lanthel got up and skipped away.

She took her time going home, doing a little bit of window-shopping in one of the garment-sellers' streets and stopping by a jeweler to admire an emerald collar she'd had her eye on for a while. She envied the endless parade of jewelry that Tesaiel was gifted with, and the lovely things she had to wear. Of course, she wasn't as keen on the situation that went with it, having to sex up that wart of a goblin. So it was all for the best.

When she was ready, she strolled back into her own district, humming happily to herself. It was a lovely day, and she almost didn't notice the cloaked figure before it approached her.

Lanthel wasn't paranoid, but she did believe in being prepared, and she had no fewer than two wickedly sharp stilettos hidden on her person for emergencies. She almost grabbed one of them as the person swept towards her, but decided against it; they were on a well-to-do street in broad daylight, after all. Instead she stopped and waited.

The figure made a short bow to her, stopping inches away. "Lady Lanthel?" The voice was female, and elven.

"Yes?" Lanthel was a bit suspicious. Most of her house's enemies no longer considered them worth pursuing, but you never knew.

"Give you good day, my lady. If you'll step over into yon alleyway with me, I'll tell you something worth hearing."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Lanthel said, sounding more uncertain than she actually was.

"Oh, I assure you it is, my lady. It concerns you and Egrid Hardtusk."

Lanthel stiffened. THAT was unexpected, and now she felt she needed to hear what this person had to say. She calculated the risk in her mind, and then nodded. "The alley, then."

The two of them strolled into a gap between houses, a lane so narrow and shadowy that most people didn't even notice it when they walked past. Lanthel's mind spun, thinking. The woman's voice was elven, Castahari, but her manner of speech had a peasant quality to it... not a mud peasant, but a jumped-up, educated one. A refugee? But then how did she know about her and Egrid?

"So what is it you have to tell me?" she finally said, turning to face the figure.

"I was wondering what your sister Tesaiel would think to know you were sporting with a half-orc every night," the woman said lazily. She threw her hood back, and Lanthel's eyes widened; one half of the woman's face was horribly scarred, as if from a burn. The flesh was melted like candlewax, and one corner of her mouth twisted up in a distorted parody of a smile.

"W-why would you say that?" Lanthel stammered, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach. Tesaiel would EXPLODE.

"Well... if I were to tell her..."

"Oh, please don't," Lanthel begged. "Don't let her know!"

"Don't you think she deserves to know how naughty you've been?" The woman sounded amused.

"No. No, definitely not," Lanthel replied fervently.

"I see. Well, I might stay silent... in return for certain considerations."

So, it was blackmail. "How much you you want?" Lanthel asked warily.

The woman laughed. "Oh, my lady, pardon; I don't want money."

"Then what do you want?" Lanthel blinked.

The woman moved forwards with unnerving suddenness, entering her personal space. One hand moved up to touch Lanthel's cheek. "A little affection, my lady," she breathed. "Affection and some liberties with you that are, I admit, quite indecent."

Oh, so THAT was how it was. Lanthel felt her heartrate spike. "That's... that's absurd!" she gasped. "I couldn't possibly!"

"Oh, I think you must," the woman said pleasantly. Then she leaned in and kissed her.

Lanthel's chest heaved as the ruined face pressed against her own, and then the woman's body followed suit, pushing her back into the wall. She gasped and wriggled, putting up a show of resistance without actually doing anything to resist. They leaned there against the wall, kissing, and then the woman reached up under her shirt to cup Lanthel's small breasts in her hands. "You're a small one," she murmured, hands squeezing. "Almost a boy. A boy with a fine ass in his breeches."

"I... I'm a pure maiden," Lanthel stammered, jerking her head away. "Don't touch me like that!"

"Like this?" The other woman grinned a twisted grin and tweaked both Lanthel's nipples simultaniously. Lanthel let out a yelp, and then a low moan as she did it again. Smirking, the other woman lowered her lips to one pink, diamond hard nipple, and began to suckle.

"Aaaaah! No, please!" Lanthel blushed a deep red, her head tossing back and forth. "Don't take me here in this filthy alley!" Her hands opened and closed as the other woman's tongue caressed the curve of her breast.

With a low chuckle, the woman slipped one hand into Lanthel's pants. Her questing fingers roamed down past the blonde elfmaid's navel, through the arrowhead of precisely trimmed pubic fur over her area, and then down to slide along the puffy lips of her sex. One callused finger traced the curve of her slit, causing Lanthel to gasp.

"Already moist?" the woman said, sounding amused. "Why Lady Lanthel. It seems you're something of a slut."

"I'm not! I'm not, you deformed brute! I'm AHHHHH!" The other woman slipped two fingers into her, pressing a particularly sensitive spot in her vagina. "No, not inside me!"

The fingers slid in and out, playing, stroking. The woman returned her mouth to Lanthel's breasts, teasing her tiny pink aureola with her tongue, occasionally biting down gently. Before long Lanthel was gasping and moaning, her hips swaying back and forth as the woman finger-fucked her.

"You're getting my fingers nice and wet, Lady Lanthel," the other woman told her. "Do you like my hand?"

"N-No! Please stop! I don't want to... don't want to..." Lanthel moaned loudly, her head rolling back. "I don't want to cum for you!"

"Ah, but you're going to, aren't you?" The fingers probing her pussy moved deeper. "If you want to keep your secret, my lady, you'll climax at the touch of my fingers in your noble twat."

"No... never... no..." Lanthel gave a sharp, forlorn cry and her whole body shuddered. Her knees bent, and she quivered there against the wall for a second before slumping forward onto her knees in the grime of the alley.

The other woman withdrew her hand from Lanthel's pants. It was wet. Grinning, she drew her tongue across it. "I've a fondness for the taste of highbred elven cunt, Lady Lanthel. Thank you for cumming for me."

"You've dishonored me," Lanthel sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Have you had enough? You won't tell Tesaiel?"

"Oh, that was just a taste, my love," the woman said cheerfully. "I'll be by again. Wear some exciting underwear for me. I like that."

"You monster!" Lanthel sniveled. "You can't make me your whore!"

"I fancy as how I just did," the woman gently corrected. "Goodbye for now, my lady. Remember the underwear."

Lanthel remained on her knees crying until the woman left the alleyway. Then she immediately stopped, straightened her clothing, brushed off her knees, and continued on her way home, humming to herself.

Who on earth had that been? One of the refugees? But how did she know about her and Egrid? Lanthel had been discreet; she was SURE she had been discreet. Maybe someone had seen Egrid coming and going; the half-orc was less careful about using the main door than she could be.

Whoever she was, she had VERY skilled fingers...

She skipped up the shaded walk in front of the townhouse, unlocked the door, and entered. "Egrid! Are you awake, you lazy orc?"

"I'm finishing breakfast," came a voice from the kitchen. "Come join me."

Lanthel flounced in to find Egrid polishing off a pair of scones with marmalade. "The most wonderful thing has happened to me," she gushed breathlessly. "You'll never guess. Go on, guess."

"Found someone's purse in the street?" Egrid hazarded.

"No! I'm being blackmailed for sex!" Lanthel beamed. "By an incredibly mysterious woman. She raped me in an alley not half an hour ago!"

Egrid's eyebrows raised. "You seem pleased."

"I've NEVER been blackmailed for sex before. It's surprisingly thrilling. And this woman knows her way around a lady's cunt, I can tell you that. It was lovely." She giggled dementedly, then suddenly frowned. "But she's blackmailing me with US, Egrid. She's threatening to tell Tesaiel. How does she know? I've been so careful!"

"Shit! We can't let Tesaiel find out. Uhhmm." Egrid frowned, thinking. "Okay. What did this woman look like?"

"Oh, she was very distinctive. She was elven, and half her face was burned away or deformed or something. It looked melted. It was was really quite hideous, having to kiss it. But also sort of romantic in a tragic sort of way!"

"Freit," Egrid said irritably. "The bitch is a lot bolder than I thought she was, fucking around like this."

Lanthel blinked. "You know this woman?"

"Fuck yes. She's one of my enforcers. Has a hard-on for your sister. She and I have a bet as to which of us will get in her pants first."

Lanthel giggled. "Good taste, then. Have you had any luck getting anywhere with Tesaiel, by the way? You stopped giving me updates."

"None whatsoever." Egrid sighed. "Honestly, Lanthel love, I'm getting pretty sure she's exclusively hetrosexual. I haven't seen her checking out women ever, and I'm good enough at reading her by now to know when she's aware of a man as a man; that happens occasionally. I'll keep trying, of course, because you never know."

"Do," Lanthel urged. "I really, really want you to pleasure each other. And then you need to tell me all about it."

"Done." Egrid chuckled, then frowned again. "Freit must have put enough pieces together to figure us out. She is way the hells out of line. You want me to have a little chat with her tomorrow and shut this bullshit down?"

"Egrid! Don't you DARE!" Lanthel yelped. "Don't you dare spoil my sex blackmail! It's hardly started yet!"

"She wants more, eh?"

"She told me to start wearing fancy underwear for the next time she appears," Lanthel said, giggling dementedly. "I need to model a few pairs for you and have you tell me which you think would excite her the most. I'm going to have to start wearing them CONSTANTLY, because she could show up at any time to make me her whore."

"Poor you," Egrid said, shaking her head with a look of amused toleration.

"It's hard on me!" Lanthel wailed. "I was forced to cum for that mutilated thug in a filthy little alley, and I get home and find a heartless orc with no sympathy for me. I've been totally degraded. I'm glad my noble parents didn't live to see their daughter like this."

Egrid looked at her. "You know, this little game affects me as well, since Tesaiel will be furious at us both if she finds out. You don't seem have thought about that."

"Who cares about you?" Lanthel told her. "You're just a subhuman halfbreed orc."

"Maybe so, but I think I want the same thing you just gave Freit as an apology."

"How dare you!" Lanthel reached over and slapped Egrid across the face.

The half-orc surged out of her chair and grabbed Lanthel. The elf screamed and thrashed; the hands clamped around her arms were painfully tight. Kicking and screaming, she was dragged across the room to the rainbarrel in one corner of the kitchen. Egrid spun her around, grabbed the back of her head with one hand by the hair, and then shoved her face down into the cold water.

Panic blossomed in Lanthel as she frantically tried to hold her breath. Her screams became a muffled glug as she kicked and thrashed in Egrid's grip. But the other woman was strong, the strongest person she had ever known, and the iron grip on her head held her down. In a hysterical frenzy, she fought and kicked, terror sweeping her away.

A rough hand yanked down her pants and reached between her legs. The hand on her head yanked her up out of the water. Lanthel gave a choking, long gasp for sweet air, her chest heaving as water streamed down her face. As she did, three finger thrust themselves roughly up into her wet cunt, making her cry out. Then the hand on her head slammed her face back down into the water.

She gave a muffled scream that just gave out as a burble. Egrid's hand speared in and out of her pussy, the half-orc's thumb on her clit. Her lungs burned as she thrashed, held by the head and the cunt, panic mixing with the rough, brutal pleasure from her sopping tunnel. Spots began to appear before her eyes, and then her head was yanked back, out of the water again.

Lanthel gave a gagging, hoarse gasp for oxygen. Then she screamed as Egrid shoved most of a hand into her. She started to gasp a plea, and then she was shoved down into the water for a third time, even deeper than before.

She was going to die. She was going to drown. Fear and raw animal panic made her thrash and struggle as the hand in her pussy found a special place that made her spasm and come. Her elven hole gushed her wetness around Egrid's hand, and she nearly blacked out from the combination of the intense orgasm and the lack of oxygen. Her vision of the bottom of the barrel dimmed...

Egrid pulled her head out of the water with a jerk, and she gave a long screaming gasp for air. Unceremoniously, Egrid threw her weakly struggling body over one shoulder and strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs, to their bedroom. She practically threw the elfmaid face first onto the bed, and then reached out for the cuffs and chains. Pinning the struggling elf to the bed with one hand, Egrid quickly chained her wrists and ankles to the bedposts, leaving her in a hands and knees posture on the bed. As Lanthel continued to cough and gasp for air, Egrid laced on her rune-carved strapon and climbed up behind her. Then, without a word, she thrust brutally into Lanthel's pink puckered asshole.

"NAAAAAAAAAHN!" Lanthel screamed, pain erupting in her bottom. She struggled against the chains as Egrid threw her full weight on her. "HELP! HELP ME!"

Egrid pumped away, slamming her hips into Lanthel's round bottom over and over. The elfmaid sobbed and moaned in pain and sensation, as water ran down her face and her limbs fought the prisoning chains. Her ass felt like it was on fire, the runecock pummeling her rectum like a hammer... she screamed again. "NO! NO!"

Egrid's hand slapped against her cheek, stinging, and she wailed again. The half-orc was breathing heavily now, her own juices running down the runecock to pool around Lanthel's stretched anus. The thrusts went faster... faster...

Egrid roared. A musky liquid sprayed Lanthel's ass, and the elf cried out. Then the runecock slid out of her ass, and she went limp on the bed, still gasping.

With a tired chuckle, Egrid flopped down beside her. "Happy now?"

"Oh gods, yes," Lanthel panted, her heart still going like a hammer. "You scared me to death when you pushed me under. I was terrified. It was WONDERFUL. Strong orgasm... and then you dragged me off and fucked me up the ass, in chains, like you'd just sacked my castle..." She shivered happily. "Oh gods I love you, Egrid. You know exactly how to please me."

"That sort of thing can be fun, but I sort of prefer being a bit more friendly," Egrid said, patting her on the ass. "You know, sex that DOESN'T make me feel like a rapist."

"I give you plenty of that," Lanthel told her firmly. "You have to play with me the way I like it too. And you can't tell me you don't enjoy it."

"It does let out some frustrations," Egrid admitted. "Sometimes I do want to just throw you to the ground and let out my annoyance."

"I can be so annoying, can't I?" Lanthel said sweetly. "It's why you love me so."

"I guess it is," Egrid agreed. "I'd say I'm a masochist, but there's only room for one in this relationship."

"You know what I love about sex with you?" Lanthel asked.

"Hmmm?"

"You're so fucking strong. So powerful for a woman. When you're taking me, I'm just completely helpless. You could do anything you want with me. Fuck me. Hurt me. Kill me. And there's absolutely nothing I could do to stop you." Lanthel's eyes met Egrid's with a unnerving intentness. "I'm completely at your mercy. I belong to you. I'm your property. Me, the noble elf of high blood, owned by a savage orc who will ravage me over and over again, make me do the most unspeakable acts..."

"Make?"

"Don't spoil my fantasy, Egrid."

"Sorry, sorry." Egrid looked at her fondly. "You're so different from your sister. You get off on being mastered. Tesaiel I think would rather die than belong to anyone."

"Tesaiel's very different, yes. I do love my dear sister. I'm glad she's finally getting laid. You have no idea how long she'd gone as a semi-virgin. I was starting to get worried."

"Have I mentioned that you're fucked up in the head?" Egrid told her.

Lanthel gave her a wicked grin. "And you love it, you naughty orc."

"It has its moments," Egrid admitted. With a sigh, she stood. "Okay. I'm going to go downstairs and do some things around the house. Probably need to get a new barrel of water with less Lanthel-drool in it."

"All right. Unchain me and I'll go read a little."

"Unchain you?" Egrid grinned at her. "If I unchain my captive, she might run away. You're staying right there with your ass in the air."

"Egrid, wait a second. That's not-"

"Bye!" And with that, the half-orc left.

Lanthel lay stock-still for a second, and then she threw a screaming tantrum, thrashing against the chains, cursing Egrid in elven and common, and biting her pillow in her rage. She knew that when the swordswoman came back the first thing she was going to do would be to take the elfmaid from behind, and she wondered which hole. It made her even madder.

Who the FUCK did the half-orc think she was? She ought to just wait on Lanthel hand and foot. Didn't Egrid know she was a lesser species? And she never let Lanthel whip her! She wanted to whip Egrid so badly she could taste it. Instead she had a stupid, clumsy lover who she had to keep secret and who wouldn't let Lanthel enslave her. Life was so unfair. It made her so mad, she could scream. She did.

She wondered which hole Egrid would use when she came back. And the runecock or her hand? Maybe her mouth?

She would just have to lie here, with her ass still throbbing in pain as it quivered in the air, waiting for her captor to return and take her. To use her as a sexual toy for the orc's own brutal gratification, making her gasp and pant and scream as she was violated over and over again by her conqueror....

Lanthel bit her lip. A bead of her own slickness slid down the inside of one thigh. Hopefully Egrid wouldn't take too long to return.

---

The next day Lanthel, her bottom still slightly tender, set out for the Relief Committee's warehouse on Cheap Street. It was in a plain but respectable part of the city, even if it was on the less desirable bank of the river. Lanthel crossed the Concubine Bridge in the morning's mist, her silken skirts swishing around her as she went.

A flower seller caught her eye as she left the bridge and turned north along the embankment; a pretty human girl, face somewhat gaunt and hollow with hunger and worry. But there was something to her, Lanthel thought enthusiastically, something delicious. Veering aside, she trotted up to the girl and smiled brightly. "Two lovely red roses, please."

Obediently, the girl took two from the stand in front of her and handed them to her. "Here you are, miss, finest quality. That's a silver, miss."

Lanthel took the roses in one hand and extracted a gold coin with the other. She placed it on the counter. The girl's eyes widened a little, and she quickly glanced up, hopeful.

Smiling, Lanthel took one of the roses and in a single swift motion slid the stem between the girl's open cleavage. The rose lay upon the tops of her breasts, and the girl's cheeks went red to match it. She opened her mouth to say something, and quick as a striking adder Lanthel dipped in again and kissed her on her moving lips. The girl froze as Lanthel's tongue slid into her mouth, then shuddered as Lanthel's hand dipped quickly and deftly into her pants. Her legs wobbled, and then Lanthel was stepping back and away, a feline smile on her face.

"Lovely petals," she commented happily, and then continued on her way. She could feel the girl's eyes on her, shaken, wondering, frightened, thrilled. She raised the other rose to her lips, and her pearly white teeth daintily tore off a rosepetal to be chewed and eaten.

Over the course of the trip, Lanthel systematically devoured the rose until all that was left by the time she reached the warehouse was a long green stem with clipped thorns.

Unlocking the outer door, she secured it behind her and went down a short hall to the main floor, where Lady Marie Slutskya was already sitting and peeling. A small barrel of peeled potatoes was on one side of her, and a much larger one of unpeeled ones sat on the other side. She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Lanthel! I was worried it would be just me."

"Don't be silly. I stopped to buy you a rose."

"Oh, that's lovely of you! Oh," Marie repeated dubiously, as Lanthel handed her the stem. "It's... I think the rose part may be missing."

"I was hungry, so I ate it on the way," Lanthel said, sitting down next to her. "It's the thought that counts. Anyway, nobody else buys you roses so you've got to be grateful."

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course." Marie still sounded dubious.

"I bought it from a refugee, I think," Lanthel continued. "She had a Castahari look, I thought. She was a human, so it's hard to tell. You humans tend to look alike, being, strictly speaking, a lesser race. Not as low as some, though! But still, you know, basically clever animals."

"Lanthel! That's not true. We're a race of great artistic and cultural accomplishments!" Marie sounded a little indignant.

"Well of COURSE you are, dearest, but next to ELVES... I mean really, Slut, you can't compare yourselves to elves. We're PEOPLE."

"I'm a person too!" Marie wailed. "You're being cruel again, Lanthel!"

"I'm trying to be nice about it," Lanthel said kindly. "I didn't compare you to orcs. Have you ever seen an orc?"

"Me?" Marie squeaked. "See an orc? Good gods no, Lanthel, don't even talk like that. They're all killers and rapists. Neither of us want to see an orc, ever."

"Well I didn't know," Lanthel asked. "Maybe you had a friend who was an orc. Or maybe one day you went out riding in the countryside, and suddenly, all around you, a band of savage orcs!" She waved a threatening finger under Marie's nose. "They pulled you from your horse, and bore you to the ground. As you screamed, the clothes were ripped from your body. Two of the brutal, muscular raiders forced your thighs apart, and the leader tugged down his pants, revealing his long, massive-"

Marie let out a little shriek and cowered. "Lanthel! Oh my gods! What did they do to me?"

"First the leader took you," Lanthel said solemnly. "Then the rest of the raiders, one after another. Until finally you lay, dishonored and spent, in a pool of their mingled man-seed."

Marie just stared at her in horror. "Really?"

"Really," Lanthel told her.

"B-but that never happened!"

"But you can almost picture it, can't you?"

Marie quivered. "Yes. Oh gods, Lanthel, now I'm going to have nightmares tonight! Why must you do this to me?"

"I'm just trying to expand your horizons, Slut." Also she enjoyed picturing Marie being gangbanged by orcs. And talking about it to her. "It makes the time go faster."

"Not for me! You promised you were going to help me with Lord Argentcrest, and instead you're describing orcs ravishing me!"

"So I did," Lanthel said, picking up a knife and getting started on a potato. "Honestly, dear, it's pretty hopeless. Are you sure you don't just want to be content with the orcs?"

"No!"

"Well, all right." She thought. "We could disguise you as a boy. Then, when he gets you in private, just don't let on that you don't have a wing-wang. Let him do it in your bottom. It can't last, but you could probably sleep with him several times before he found out."

"I'm not out to sleep with him! I mean, that would be nice, but it's not the main point! I want him to love me!"

"Well, that's a harder order. Have you thought about magic?"

"No magic," Marie said firmly. "I don't want any and anyway my allowance wouldn't afford it."

Lanthel sighed vexedly. "You are not making this easy, Slut. Let us just accept that you have no realistic chance and concentrate on what you should do if a miracle happens and he decides that he likes girls just for you. Do you know how to dance a Morgovian Waltz?"

"Yes, of course," Marie said.

"Good. He likes that dance. Lean into him as you go, and let him lead. He likes that too." Lanthel leaned over and sniffed at her neck. "Is that bergamot scent you're wearing?"

"Yes, it is. I rather like-"

"Get rid of it. He hates bergamot. I suggest a violet perfume; he's known to adore violets. Now, if you should be able to offer him wine..."

The two spoke in this vein for a long time; Lanthel knew Lord Argentcrest's particulars well from her own stalking of him, and she was happy to share then since it hadn't panned out. Marie absorbed it all like a sponge, making mental notes.

"That should let you get his attention if it can be gotten by a woman, which of course apparently it can't," Lanthel finally said. "Are you prepared for what will happen when he gets you alone, free from prying eyes?"

"Well, no?" Marie said uncertainly. "I mean, I know we'd kiss, but I'm... not completely familiar with what happens next."

Lanthel blinked. "When you say not completely familiar, dear, exactly what do you mean?"

Marie twiddled her hands. "Well, I know men aren't the same as us down below. I'm not entirely sure how or how that relates to us."

Lanthel stared at her. "Marie, how old are you?"

"Um. Twenty-four."

"Well, let your sweet Lanthel explain it to you," the elf said kindly. She took the potato she'd been peeling and proceeded to whittle it at a great speed. Marie watched curiously as she worked. 

Finally, Lanthel held up the potato. "What they have looks like this, only with a little fleshy sack hanging below it."

"So a long shaft with a tip? Oh! Some of the dogs have that!"

"Yes, that means they're male dogs," Lanthel explained patiently. Part of her cringed inside. "Now, at first this will be small and shriveled. But as you excite him, it becomes tall and hard, like this."

"I... I see," said Marie.

Leaning over, Lanthel yanked up Marie's skirt, making the crosseyed young woman yelp and impotently clutch at herself. The blonde elf pointed to the tangle of brown fur over her pubic mound. "You should really trim or shave that, Marie. Leaving it natural is for peasant girls."

"Oh. Oh, I see. But-"

"He's going to hitch your skirt up, to get at the place he wants," Lanthel told her. "You DO masturbate, dear? Please tell me you do?"

"Maybe?" Marie managed, crimson. "I don't get much privacy at home."

"Well, he's probably going to play with you a bit first. Maybe with your breasts." Lanthel's hands reached out to squeeze the soft adequacy of Marie's bosom, making the noblewoman squeal. "Definitely your treasure." She slid a hand down and toyed with Marie's labia.

"L-Lanthel! That's... I mean... you shouldn't DO th-"

"Let Lanthel instruct you, Slut," Lanthel told her firmly, tapping her worried lips with one finger. "Now. He's going to play with you." Her fingers slid around Marie's clit, making her gasp. "Caress you." Another finger stroked the inside of Marie's thigh, trailing up to her hairy slit. "Get you wet for him. The wetness is important, dear, because otherwise it will hurt."

"Oh gods, Lanthel, I'm not sure we-"

"When he thinks you're ready for him he's going to spread your legs." Lanthel's hands firmly guided Marie's quivering thighs apart. "Then he's going to climb on top of you." She was almost leaning on Marie now. "Then he's going to enter you." With one steady movement, she took the carved potato-penis and thrust it into Marie's pussy.

Marie cried out in shock and sensation as Lanthel pushed it in. Her hands feebly tried to bat at Lanthel, then fell to her sides as she leaned back in her chair, moaning. Lanthel tittered and slid the vegetable dildo in and out, pleased to see that her student was well-lubricated. She moved one hand up to play with one of Marie's nipples through the fabric of her dress; the other hand continued to thrust the makeshift cock in and out of the woman's brown-furred sex.

Shuddering and gasping, her eyes closed, Marie sprawled back in her chair. Her lips quivered as Lanthel's dildo pushed deeper and deeper into her, back and forth. A low moan came from them. "Oh g-gods... oh..."

"When he gets his rhythm he'll go harder and faster," Lanthel told her, increasing the force and speed of her pushing. She felt an obstruction give way before her potato and Marie gave a little cry of pain; probably the hymen tearing. Lanthel smiled a predator's smile and giggled to herself; she was going to be the one to take Marie's virginity, it looked like. It would look nice on the mental shelf with the rest of her collection.

Looking at the flushed, coital body of the woman she was servicing, Lanthel brought the orc raiders back to her mind. A bunch of brutal savages, led by their lovely and adored mistress, Lanthel the Wonderful. 'Orcs!' she would cry out. 'Fuck this woman until she passes out!' And then they'd mount Marie and ravage her as she writhed under their primitive green bodies...

"Ahhhh! Ahhhhhhh! Lanthel, it's too rough.... AHHHHHH!"

She grabbed Marie's right breast through the dress and squeezed and twisted, prompting a wail. Her other hand slammed the vegetable penis in and out of Marie's dripping cunt, the hairy, pouty vaginal lips inflamed a bright red. In her mind's eye, the orcs were sating their lust on Marie, covering her with their cum, viciously fucking her into an unseeing daze.

"Oh gods! Oh gooooooooods! AHHHHHN!"

Moisture drenched Lanthel's hand, breaking her fantasy. Slowly, she slid the potato out of Marie's pussy. It was covered with her slickness and blood. The elfmaid smirked at the panting, shuddering woman still working through her climax, and raised the potato to her own lips. Eyes meeting Marie's, she took a bite out of the tip, then licked her lips and smiled.

Marie, wide-eyed, trembled as the last of her climax left. "O-Oh my gods. Oh my gods. D-Did we just have sex?"

"Don't be silly, Slut," Lanthel told her. "I just demonstrated what the orcs did to you. I'll let you know when we have sex." As horny as she was, Lanthel was pretty sure that Marie would be absolutely useless in getting her off, at least right now. She was not exactly the girl of Lanthel's dreams.

"That wasn't supposed to be orcs!" Marie wailed, fumbling with her skirt. "It was supposed to be Lord Argentcrest!"

"Well, it was orcs," Lanthel said pitilessly. "Big, muscular, smelly orcs. You should have heard yourself squeal for them. I think you liked it, which is really SHOCKING. I'm not sure I should be seen together with an orc-lover."

"That's not what happened! YOU did that to me!" Marie pointed a trembling finger at her. "You told me you'd help!"

"Well, if you can handle an orc, you can surely handle Lord Argentcrest," Lanthel said soothingly. "So it wasn't a complete loss."

"This wasn't at all what I was expecting!" Marie babbled.

"Why don't you peel some potatoes, dear? That ought to make you feel better." Lanthel handed her a fresh potato and a peeler. Marie stared at them, then obediently took them and got back to work.

Just to be a good sport and to pass the time, Lanthel peeled a few herself. Marie kept twitching and flushing, which was entertaining to watch. The time passed with a delicious awkwardness.

Finally, though, Lanthel stood. "There's only twenty left," she observed. "Be a dear and finish them off, would you? I really do have to go. You know where to deliver them, yes?"

"Well, yes, but the cart really needs two people..."

"Oh, I'm sure you can handle it, dear. You're so capable," Lanthel lied. "Just think how they'll praise you when you deliver this wonderful cart of peeled vegetables! Not even being repeatedly dishonored by orcs could stop you!"

"Repeatedly?" Marie asked forlornly.

"Repeatedly," Lanthel said with firm satisfaction.

"I think I may be traumatized, Lanthel," Marie mumbled. "And it's your fault."

"Just focus on delivering the potatoes," Lanthel advised. "Try not to dwell on the thought that the orcs may be back."

"T-They may?" Marie squeaked.

"They very well may," Lanthel replied. Grinning, she leaned over and whispered in Marie's ear, "I think they want to try doing you up the ass."

Marie's crossed eyes bulged and she gave a little yelp of alarm. Giggling, Lanthel tousled the woman's brown hair, waved, and pranced out of the warehouse.

She was highly pleased with herself. Marie was such an entertaining chew-toy; rather like an adorable but slightly impaired kitten. Good gods, how could a human get to age 24 without knowing the workings of the anatomy of the other gender? By that age Lanthel had had the opposite sex inside basically every orifice you could fit a dick into, once all at the same time. She gave a mental smile as she remembered that foursome. Tesaiel had almost caught them; her older sister would have been OUTRAGED at the sight. It was true that Tesaiel had always been almost frigid and not eager to sate her lusts, but at least even she had known what a man had in his pants and what to do with it. Maybe such ignorance was a human thing.

Lanthel wasn't entirely sure what she thought of humans. Some could be quite attractive, desirable even, but they weren't elves. She didn't honestly think of them as animals like she had told Marie, but they WERE an inferior race. Like tamer, less exciting orcs. Sometimes she forgot that Egrid was, in fact, half-human; was as much human as she was an orc. It didn't mesh well with the fantasy she had woven around her lover, although in her more realistic moments she knew that she probably wouldn't feel the way she did for the swordswoman without the human qualities of intellect, empathy, and physical beauty.

As she made her way home through the streets of Dylak-Leem she could see humans swarming, by far the majority race. In Castahar she had lived mostly among elves; this city was a mix of other peoples that Lanthel found far more entertaining, if occasionally irritating.

Her mind flitted back to a day long past, walking along a pebbled path under the red-gold trees with Tesaiel. They had both been wearing their ceremonial robes, on their way back from an outdoor rite celebrating the harvest festival. The two of them had been animatedly talking and laughing, free of cares, a slight breeze blowing their hair to stream like a banner behind them. Lanthel had been so happy, and she knew Tesaiel had been too.

She deeply missed that purely elven world sometimes.

Lanthel shook her head and kept walking. This stage of her life had it's own pleasures.

As she approached the grassy court on which her townhouse lay, she saw a familiar figure in leather and a black cloak step out of the shadows of a corner. The ruined face of the woman Egrid had called Freit smiled a twisted smile at her as she slowed to a stop. "My lady," the scarred elf said merrily. "How fortunate to meet you here."

"Yes, what a stroke of luck that I should happen to walk along the only path to my front door!" Lanthel brightly replied with every appearance of sincerity.

Freit chuckled. "Ah, it's stung I am by your pricking wit, lady. Why don't you come along with me? I promise to laugh at your barbs."

"Are we going to the alley again?" Lanthel asked.

"An alley is so squalid a place for a beautiful lady such as yourself," Freit told her. "We'll take a walk to my lodgings. Things can unfold at leisure there."

"Are you planning to unfold me, then?"

"Thoroughly," Freit said, grinning. She walked over and placed her arm possessively around Lanthel's waist, letting her hand rest on Lanthel's rump. "Shall we?"

"I suppose I have no choice," Lanthel murmured, leaning into Freit slightly. The two walked off.

She tried to take the other woman's measure as they walked. Freit definitely had a commanding presence; Lanthel liked the way she was holding her, pose and posture letting bystanders know Lanthel was her woman. From time to time the hand on her ass gave a little squeeze, just enough to remind her it was there. But there was also an air of danger under it all; a certain leashed violence under the genial charm. VERY stimulating.

They went into a less respectable part of the city, one that Lanthel might have thought hard about entering by herself at night. Not a slum, but not... entirely safe. She felt quite secure on Freit's arm, though.

Finally they arrived at the door to Freit's lodgings. Not a tenement, but not a place Lanthel would ever care to live. The other woman unlocked the door, and then bowed. "Welcome to my humble home, my lady. My castle, if you will."

"It looks a bit of a hole, to be honest," Lanthel said. "Do I really have to go in?"

"Alas, I could strip you here in the street, but some of the neighbors are easily offended," Freit said. "And others would ask to join in. You don't wish to be public-use, do you, lady?"

Lanthel sniffed. "How rude. You disfigured brigand." She walked into the house, and Freit followed, shutting the door behind her.

"You're so cruel to me, lady," Freit said as Lanthel surveyed the room. It was fairly barren except for some crude chairs, a table, and a canvas hanging on one wall, a nude. Lanthel didn't recognize the subject at first; then her mind subtracted the facial burns and she recognized her host.

"I see you used to be beautiful," she said, gesturing to the wall. "How sad that you're so ugly now."

"You know, I thought I'd be more upset about that?" Freit said, sounding more amused than offended. "To lose one's beauty is a maiden's tragedy. But it's not as though I'm after gazing in the mirror at myself all day, is it? It just makes finding affectionate company harder, and I like a challenge anyway."

"Lies," Lanthel said dismissively. "You could have tried courting me. Instead you resorted to blackmail."

"Ah, well, I confess that with you I just wanted an easy fuck, Lady Lanthel. You're not really worth putting in effort, not like your sister."

"Yes, true, I know," Lanthel agreed. "If you only have the energy to devote to courting one of us, I cannot fault you for having the ambition to try for Tesaiel."

Freit blinked, surprise and a bit of uncertainty flitting across her face for the first time. "I should have expected jealousy from you," she said. "Meek acceptance of inferiority seems out of character."

"Don't be silly," Lanthel replied with a bit of contempt. "Tesaiel is obviously more wonderful than I. That's just obvious. There's no shame in being lesser than her; everyone is, really. I'm still better than, say, you."

"Current me or past me?" Freit said, voice amused.

"Both. Even when you weren't disfigured, you were too scrawny for your frame, if that canvas is honest. And now you're like something to scare naughty children with."

"Have you been naughty, lady?"

"I'm not scared," Lanthel replied. "And I'm not a child."

Freit looked over her figure. "Indeed you aren't," she agreed. "Let me show you the bedroom, my full-grown lady. It might surprise you."

"With its squalor, perhaps." Lanthel let her arm be firmly taken, and together they walked through a doorway to another room, where she stopped dead in shock.

A drocken was seated in an oversized wooden chair by the rumpled bed. The goatman made a bleating sound, and stood. It was slightly taller than most humans, covered in coarse black and brown hair, and sported two curling horns on either side of its muzzle. Its eyes were a bright, piercing yellow and its legs were curved and ended in hooves. It was nude except for a loincloth.

"W-What is that?!" Lanthel gasped. "That's a drocken! What is a drocken doing here?"

"This is Naatok," Freit cheerfully replied. "He and I share these rooms."

There was only one bed. Lanthel looked at Freit with wide eyes. "I-Is that all you share?"

"No indeed, my lady," Freit said, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Naatok's known me as a woman many a time. He likes elven ladies, and I like elven noblewomen, so it's a better bargain for him than I when it comes to the physicalities. Elven maids were not built for drocken manhoods." She grinned. "But you'll discover that today, Lady Lanthel."

This was definitely more than Lanthel had bargained for. She licked her lips nervously. "I couldn't possibly. I mean... a drocken."

"Imagine the talk I could have with your sister, my lady."

Lanthel turned to Freit and adopted a pleading pose. "Wouldn't you rather have me please you, darling? I'll let you do EVERYTHING to me. And I'll make you feel good."

"You'll do that too, but we can't deny Naatok his fun."

"Oh, please don't make me," Lanthel groveled, a whine entering her voice. "He's so... hairy. Like an animal. I'm of a noble house."

Freit chuckled and patted her on the head. "I know, lady. Now, why don't you take off your clothes for us?"

"You monster," Lanthel sputtered, her voice trembling. Then, teasingly, she slowly slid her dress off her shoulders. Swaying a bit at the waist, she slid it down and let the fabric slide down her legs to lie in a puddle at her feet. She now stood topless, her waist covered by a crotchless black lingerie garter. Straps connected it to black lace stockings.

"I see you obeyed my instructions to wear skankish underwear," Freit said, sounding pleased. "Good girl."

"I picked it out just for you," Lanthel told her meekly. Actually Egrid had picked it out, after Lanthel had modeled the kinkier parts of her wardrobe for her.

"I don't think we'll even need to take it off you," Freit observed. "Good design. Now. Come here."

Lanthel walked over to face her. Freit opened her arms and made a beckoning gesture, and with a little sigh Lanthel fell into her embrace. Their lips met, and Lanthel found herself being aggressively kissed by the mutilated swordswoman, arms and hands exploring Lanthel's back, hips, and bottom. She returned it, her hands plucking at Freit's garments, her tongue slipping into the swordswoman's mouth.

They stood there, caressing each other, mouths working. Slowly, Lanthel peeled away Freit's jerkin, leaving the other elf's bare breasts free. They were bigger than Lanthel's but not large. She slipped a hand between them to touch one, her other hand tracing Freit's lanky frame. The woman was a bit of a scarecrow; all arms and knees and wiry muscle, her skin traced here and there with scars.

Freit reached down and pulled off her leather pants, leaving both of them nude except for Lanthel's lingerie. There was a wicked scar running along her hairless labia; enough to make Lanthel wince.

Freit broke the embrace. "On your knees, Lady Lanthel."

Lanthel gave her a smouldering, sulky glare. "You brute! You peasant! To think that I would-"

"On your knees."

Suddenly docile, Lanthel sank to her knees before the woman, sniveling. "W-What are you going to make me do, master?"

"Master now, is it? I like that." Freit smiled. "Turn around and face Naatok, my highborn lady."

Tears running down her cheeks, Lanthel obeyed. Freit spoke a few words in a guttural tongue, and the goatman tugged away his loincloth. Lanthel's eyes grew wide at the sight of his absurdly long, somewhat hairy penis, with a hairy scrotum swinging beneath it. She swallowed.

"Use your tongue, my lady," Freit instructed. "Not your mouth. Just your tongue."

Well. Sweating a little in the cool air of the bedroom, Lanthel hobbled forward on her knees until she was directly in front of Naatok's groin. The hairy cock seemed even longer up close, and she stuck out her tongue and drew it along the shaft in a long lick. It had a somewhat earthy taste, with salty overtones that might be sweat. She took another long lick as the goatman snorted and placed a paw on her golden head. Another long slurp. This was probably what captive women back in her homeland of Castahar were doing, orally servicing their drocken conquerors. Lanthel had never dreamed that one day she would be made to suckle a goatman penis, licking it with forced enthusiasm despite the smelly, hairy creature it was attached to. This was what would have become of her and Tesaiel if they had stayed. The drocken would have thrown them on the ground side by side, and forced them to sate their goatish lusts with their pure, lovely bodies...

A finger slipped between her vaginal lips, and she squealed.

"Already wet, I see," Freit commented, removing her hand. She put the finger to her lips and sucked on it. "You have a somewhat tart taste, my lady. Appropriate."

Lanthel made no reply. The shaft of Naatok's cock was wet with her saliva; the hair on it plastered to the length. Some of the hair had come off in her mouth; rather disgusting, that. She moved down a little and drew her tongue along his long, dangling ball sack; the sharp taste of sweat was greater there. Her tongue lingered on one of the fleshy spheres, playing with it as she took in the flavour.

Freit reached out and grabbed her head by the long blonde braid. She pulled it back, away from Naatok's crotch. "That's enough of that, Lady Lanthel. You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"Never, you brigand!" Lanthel said defiantly, her chest heaving. Then she licked her lips slowly.

Chuckling, Freit flopped down on the bed, reclining in a sitting position with her back against the headboard. "Well, it's time for you to be pleasing me, my noble lady. Come crouch before me. Put your ass in the air and your face in my womanhood."

"But I can't possibly-"

"Enough with the game! Now!" Freit snapped.

"Yes, master! Anything you command!" Lanthel whimpered. She hurried over and climbed onto the bed, getting onto her hands and knees posture before the other woman. Freit opened her legs invitingly, and Lanthel gazed down at the scarred, hairless labia before her. "What happened?" she asked, honestly curious.

"Two drocken with hooks and a jagged knife," Freit replied, an odd note in her voice. "I've put a small fortune in healing magic into it. It's helped quite a bit. Now, to work, my lady."

"As you command, master," Lanthel said, lowering her mouth to the woman's nether lips. Her tongue dipped out, and she immediately tasted Freit's nectar. The other woman was as wet as she was.

She feasted upon the swordwoman's pussy, using a few tricks she had learned. It had been a long time since she had tasted elven pussy, but it had been the first sort she had ever had and she hadn't forgotten the exquisite taste of it, or the little secrets to make it better. As the other woman let out a pleased gasp, Lanthel wondered how she had wound up going from torture by drockens to a drocken bedmate. It seemed a strange progression for most people. Perhaps Freit was more like Lanthel than was immediately apparent?

Her jaw worked, and she pictured the drocken using hooks and knives on the slit her mouth was devouring. The image stimulated her. Her tongue played along the scar, then delved back down into the red, wet chasm. What would Freit look like, helpless, waiting to be punished? Waiting to be taken? What did it look like when Naatok took her?

Two hairy hands grabbed her by each moon of her ass, and she squealed. Lanthel started to raise her head, but Freit's hand instantly forced it back to her cleft. "Naatok wants some fun too," the swordswoman said, amused. "I'm just glad it's not me tonight."

Sweat poured down Lanthel's brow. This was DEFINITELY more than she'd bargained for, and she felt a little thrill of panic stir in her. "H-He's so big," she said nervously between licks. "I'm small."

"So am I. I'll not lie, noble lady, it's going to hurt," Freit told her cheerfully. "Don't let it distract you from what you're doing."

The big hands moved down to clasp her firmly by her boyish hips, and Lanthel swallowed, a bit of fear-bile competing with the taste of Freit in her mouth. She felt Naatok's presence looming behind her on the bed, and then a hairy body pressed against her butt and the back of her thighs. Something long and hard slid under her, along her stomach, through the arrowhead of blonde fur above her cleft, against her garter belt. The drocken gave a bleat, and then moved his hips back a little. The long fleshy rod slid back, then up, and the tip of it poked against her labia.

"Wait," she heard herself say. "This isn't-"

The goatman's hands tightened around her hips and with a neighing noise, he pushed his length inside her tight hole. Lanthel shrieked in pain as he slid slowly in; he was too big! Too big, and the hair on it was bristly! It was prickling against her inside walls, and the friction made it even worse... thank the gods she was well-lubricated...

Naatok leaned forwards over her, and his member kept sliding further and further in. Lanthel gave another cry of pain from around a mouthful of Freit's pussy; how much cock did he have? It slipped further and further in... straining her little tunnel to the utmost... until finally the head of his cock bumped up against her cervix. He wasn't even buried to the root, quite, Lanthel numbly realized.

"He's too big," she whimpered. "It's not going to work."

"It's working so far," Freit told her. "Keep going. Just like that. Ahhh!"

Naatok just held there for several seconds, buried deep in her, motionless. Then, with slow, unhurried strokes, he began to fuck her.

"Ahhhhhhh! AHHHHHHHHHGHN!" Lanthel cried out, her groans a little wet with Freit's slickness in her mouth. The drocken's penis was slowly threshing her tight little cunt, sending agony and ecstacy shooting through her like electric needles. And all she could think of was Tesaiel watching as the goatman fucked her, made her its whore, made her pant and scream with its hairy cock.

In her mind, as their estate burned, Tesaiel watched in horror as her beloved little sister was dishonored by the drocken chief. Then two of the chief's men would tear Tesaiel's robes from her body. Struggling, her red-gold-furred pussy was placed before Lanthel's mouth. "Eat, or we shall kill her!" the cruel chief would roar.

"Oh Lanthel, I'm so sorry, but you have no choice!" Tesaiel would tell her. "You've got to pleasure me with your mouth while I jerk off these hideous goatmen!"

Lanthel's tongue delved deep into Freit, making the other woman give a little cry of pleased surprise. She lapped frantically, caught up in her fantasy. As the hairy penis scratched and strained her tender, sopping cunt, Lanthel felt her telltale spasms begin. She let out a muffled cry, and then another, and then threw her head back and howled as her orgasm quaked through her. Her pussy spasmodically tried to tighten around a member too big for her, and the result was waves of pain. Lanthel screamed and shook as her climax played through, tears running down her face. Finally, when it passed, she brought her mouth back down to her cuntal meal.

"I see we got you off, my lady," Freit gasped, her breath coming heavily. "The noble elven princess likes being fucked by a peasant and a goatman, is it?"

"Mmmmrmph!" Lanthel retorted around a mouthful of Freit's vulva.

Freit patted her on the head. "I bet you'll cum again before he finished, my highborn little whore."

Lanthel's cheeks colored a bit. She thought about protesting that she wasn't a whore; to be honest with herself, though, she had taken goods or money in exchange for sex once or twice. Anyway, she loved how Freit was dominating her. She definitely wanted to get to know the woman much better.

A tug on the back of her head got her attention. Naatok was leaning forward over her, and had hold of her long blonde braid. But both his hands were still clamped on her hips; what was he holding it with? A chewing sound gave her the answer a second later.

"He's chewing my hair!" she panted. "He's going... uhn... to get his disgusting drool.... ahnn... all over it!"

"He's not chewing," Freit replied, breath quick and shallow. "He's eating."

It took a second for Lanthel to get her meaning, and then her eyes widened. The grip on her braid was gradually moving up towards her head. The drocken was eating her braid! Her beautiful golden hair!

Beneath her mouth, Freit's pussy spasmed and squirted. The swordswoman's hands tightened around Lanthel's head, and she made a hissing sound as her climax hit her under Lanthel's oral attentions. The blonde elf drank deeply of the spouting nectar, the slickness drenching her little chin as she started to panic.

Eaten. The drocken was eating her alive, consuming her while he was fucking her. She was being devoured. How much of her hair would he eat? Would he stop with her hair? Would he want fingers, or toes? Or breasts?

She started to flail a little, and the grip on her hips tightened. Naatok said something in a deep, guttural voice, and then tucked his thumbs under her garter belt, lifted it, and then it snap back down, making her yelp. His hairy shaft continued to pump in and out of her swollen, sensitive snatch.

Trapped. Freit had ahold of her head. The drocken had hold of her waist and his jaws had her by the braid. She was trapped here in this vulnerable posture being simultaneously raped and devoured by a savage goatman, and there was nothing she could do. She pictured him coming, and then tearing into her flesh, his seed providing a sauce for her delicate maiden-meat...

Oh gods. With a terrified shriek, Lanthel came, a long, hard, rolling orgasm that brought the pains in her spasming pussy to new heights. She gasped and choked, tears pouring down her cheeks, her head thrashing from side to side as the shudders ran through her. Sweat poured down her flanks, her breasts, her arms. The whole time, Naatok continued to thrust into her burning, clenching hole.

"I win my bet, my noble lady," Freit told her, stroking her head. "Perhaps a third? I wouldn't put money on that."

Lanthel just sobbed as the shudders slowly left her. Naatok grunted; his mouth was nearly to the base of her head by now, and she could feel the hot breath of his muzzle on the back of her neck. Then, suddenly, he released her hair and straightened. His hands clenched, painfully, and he began to increase the speed of his strokes.

"Oh... Ahhhhhn! oh goddddddds.... AHHHHHHHHN!" Lanthel's eyes started to roll back in their sockets as her tight, wet hole screamed under the intensified assault. The coarse cock-hair on his member felt like steel wool, and his shaft punched in and out of her inflamed tunnel as if it were on fire.

Was she going to pass out? She had never passed out during sex before, not even during the more intense sessions with Egrid. She thought of being unconscious and at their mercy, and the panic bloomed anew. She had to stay awake. Gasping, she screamed a long, ragged scream.

Naatok made a bleating sound that sounded more like a beast than a humanoid. Her eyes had rolled up so far that her vision was gone. Blackness started to fill her world, just blackness and the wildfire between her legs.

Then, suddenly, spurts of hot, thick liquid gushed into her womb. Wave after wave of goatman seed pumped into her as Naatok ground to a halt, his spasming cock pressed against her cervix. Lanthel panted and whimpered as he filled her, gout after gout of his sticky cum pouring into the deepest of places within her. Could elves breed with drocken? She was pretty sure they could. She would have to drink her alchemist's draught when she got out of here, unless she wanted to breed for Naatok, which was a definite no.

Slowly the goatman pulled his length out of her, making her almost cry with relief. He carefully wiped it between her asscheeks, then gave her rump a pat and moved back. What felt like a gallon of mingled elf-goatman cum poured out of her abused vagina, flowing through her labia and down the inside of her thighs to mar her black lace stockings.

"There we go, my lady," Freit said. "Now come give us a kiss."

Trembling, Lanthel levered herself up and crawled forward, until she was lying upon Freit's reclining form, facing her. The swordswoman smiled at her, and then their mouths met. Slowly they tasted each other as their breasts slid against one another and Lanthel's gaping, inflamed pussy dribbled the remains of her lovemaking on Freit's groin.

"You know I'm going to have your sister," Freit murmured around the kiss.

"Tesaiel's not as easy as I," Lanthel murmured back. "You may have set your sights too high."

"We shall see, in the by and by," Freit replied. "At least I'll always have you. I always wanted to own a fine elven lady."

"You brigand," Lanthel whispered, her tongue sliding deeper into Freit's mouth.

"Call me master," Freit breathed, lightly drawing her fingers along one breast.

"My cruel master," Lanthel said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "What else will you make me do?"

Freit broke the kiss. "I think Naatok deserves a kiss too, after all the attention he gave you."

Swallowing, Lanthel turned around, rising to her knees. Freit said something to the drocken in their hideous language, and Naatok gave a bleating guffaw and inched forward. As Lanthel bit her lip, he took her in his arms and pressed her against his hair torso, his still-erect penis trapped between her belly and his stomach. He bent his caprine head down, and as she squirmed, his muzzle met her lips. She kissed him, her eyes tightly shut, his hands squeezing the back of her rump as her dainty lips kneaded his coarse ones. His long tongue thrust into her mouth, and her own tiny pink one slid around it.

"Two lovers." Freit sounded amused, but there was an undertone in her voice that Lanthel immediately identified as jealousy. Her eyes opened in interest and calculation as she realized that the mutilated elven swordswoman was honestly in love with Naatok, actual love as opposed to a mere perverted lust. In fact, she wasn't sure Freit had any physical attraction to the goatman at all. How fascinating!

Naatok broke the embrace. Just to give her analysis a little extra test... well, mostly just for that reason... Lanthel bent down and took the head of his cock in her mouth. The goatman made a neighing sound, and another brief spurt of semen shot from his dick, filling her mouth. She swirled it around between her teeth; it had a thick, musky taste that she found a little arousing. She swallowed it, letting a bit overflow to run down her chin.

"That's enough, my harlot of a lady." Freit sounded a little irritated now. Definitely jealous. "Stand up and we'll get you ready to go."

Groveling, Lanthel did, giggling inside. Oh, this was so ADORABLE. Hard-as-nails Freit was deeply in love with Naatok, but sex with him was unarousing and painful, so she got a woman for them to both fuck at the same time. Only it made Freit jealous and insecure when the woman came on to Naatok a bit. Oh, the poor ugly dear. This was the most perfect, precious thing Lanthel had seen in ages.

Freit walked over and took up Lanthel's discarded dress. She removed the belt and pouches from it, and buckled them around Lanthel's waist, then she took a long dark green cloak from a wardrobe and wrapped it around the blonde elfmaid. Then she pulled her own jerkin and breeches back on. "I'm keeping the dress," she said. "I'll walk you back home."

"Naked?" Lanthel said, wide-eyed.

"Better keep that cloak wrapped tight," Freit advised. "Come on."

Swallowing, Lanthel followed on unsteady legs. Walking was not completely comfortable; little spasms of pain ran from her vagina to her thighs. Freit offered her one arm, and she took it, leaning against her as they walked out of the house and into the street.

It was a windy evening, and Lanthel struggled to keep the cloak around her. There were crowds of people out, and she was naked in the middle of them; one moment of inattention could expose her freshly-fucked body to the whole packed street. And wearing lingerie of the sort usually associated with prostitutes, as well.

She clutched at the cloak. Quite aside from the humiliation, she knew several men in the street would probably take that sort of display as an open invitation. Would Freit let them?

She nestled closer against the mutilated elf, and felt a hand squeeze one buttock reassuringly.

The trip seemed to take forever, but finally they made it to the green, tree-shaded courtyard where Lanthel's townhouse lay. "Well, my noble lady, here you are," Freit said. "Green Faith, but we had a diverting time, didn't we?"

Lanthel just sniffled. "You are no gentlewoman."

"Indeed I'm not. Til next time, my eager lady. Oh yes." Suddenly, the cloak was plucked from her shoulders. "I'll take my mantle back. It's my second-best."

Lanthel froze, then stared wildly around as Freit walked away. She didn't see anyone else... hopefully no-one was watching... naked but for her stockings and garter, shivering, she bolted for her front door.

Reaching it, she fumbled with the key. Oh gods, were those voices she heard at the far end of the court? Feverishly she twisted it in the lock and the door clicked open. She sprang inside, hopefully before any watcher could get more than a flash of her bare bottom in the evening's murk.

"That you, Lanthel?" Egrid's voice called from the parlor.

Shutting and locking the door, Lanthel wobbled into the parlor on unsteady feet. "Oh Egrid, I have had the most trying, awful, wonderful day."

The half-orc's eyes raised as she teetered in. "Holy shit. Is that semen on your stockings?"

"Yes. You didn't tell me she had a goatman."

"She brought the goatman into it?" Egrid whistled. "You okay?"

"I am very sore. And my hair!" Lanthel sniffled. "He ate my HAIR, Egrid!"

"So I see. It looks good short, Lanthel. It's not so bad."

"I liked my braid!" Lanthel wailed. "He ate it WHILE he was doing me!"

"Was the sex at least good?"

"Oh fuck yes. But it HURT. It really did hurt. He was way too big for me and his cock was covered in bristly hair. It was like sticking the wrong end of a hairbrush up my poor twat. But I came, twice, and the atmosphere was incredible. Do you know she's really in love with him?"

"I gathered," Egrid replied. "She bitches about having to please him. Sounds like a fucked-up relationship to me."

"They're adorable," Lanthel told her. "I made her jealous of me. I wanted to just give her a hug and pat her little head. But she's frightening, Egrid. She's a scary person."

"Yeah, she is," Egrid said seriously. "She's probably the best swordsperson of my enforcers. She's good enough that I don't know for sure that I could take her. It would be a hell of a fight, for certain."

"I really want to get to know her better," Lanthel said. "I love seeing her in control, but I haven't seen her obey yet. That would be... stimulating."

"Well, I see her obey all the time, but not the way you're talking about," Egrid said. "You sure you don't want me to make her back off?"

"No. Not yet," Lanthel replied. She sighed. "But thank you for offering. Today was not easy, darling."

"Anything I can do for you?"

"Yes." Lanthel gave her a hesitant smile. "Can you come upstairs and get undressed? Not for sex. I just want to be held."

"Sure." Egrid got up, and put an arm around her. Slowly, they walked up the stairs to their bedroom, and Lanthel took her alchemist's draught, from a drawer, swallowed the bitter stuff in one gulp, and then sat on the bed. She undid the stained garter and pulled off the soiled stockings, watching Egrid undress as she did so. The half orc soon stood naked in the dim evening light from the window, muscles rippling under the green-brown skin. Her breasts were large and tipped with black aureola, her pubic hair tangled and black, her limbs dotted with long-healed scars. Lanthel lay back on the bed as Egrid slowly advanced, slipped into it, and folded her arms around her.

Letting out a little sigh, Lanthel pillowed her head against Egrid's ample mounds and nestled into the embrace. The half-orc's strength enfolded her like a warm fortress, and she could hear the beating of her lover's heart, slow and even. Whereas before she had felt vulnerable and exposed, now she felt safe and warm and protected and loved. It was like a dose of tranquilizer.

"You okay, love?" Egrid murmured. "Sometimes you make me worried."

"Everything's fine now," Lanthel whispered back. "Just hold me."

Egrid stroked her hair. "That's more than fine with me."

"I lied," Lanthel told her, voice trembling a bit. "This is why I love you. Not the sex."

"I know, love."

"You're all I have except for Tesaiel. I like my life but I get so lonely sometimes. And now Tesaiel's always gone." She closed her eyes. "Don't leave me, Egrid. Please."

"Oh, my little golden elf, we don't know what the future will bring," Egrid told her gently. "But I will hold you until morning at the very least."

"That's good enough," Lanthel murmured, and softly kissed the side of Egrid's breast. Then she closed her eyes, and still feeling safe and content drifted into a deep sleep.

---

The next morning Lanthel was pleased to find that she could walk without serious discomfort. Her womanhood was still tender and a little red, but she didn't think there would be any bruising. Good.

She wasn't sure she wanted this to become a habit. As thrilling as it had been, there were days when she had things or people to do and couldn't afford to be unexpectedly enslaved and fucked into a sobbing, gasping heap by a goatman. So the nature of her situation with Freit had to change, and for that to happen she needed to talk to Tesaiel.

Should she just beat Freit to the punch and tell her sister everything? Lanthel dismissed that idea out of hand. Tesaiel would explode at her and Egrid. It would be awful. There would be a terrible scene. Things might be said that would break relationships beyond repair.

Part of the problem, Lanthel reflected, was that Tesaiel approached all of Lanthel's affairs from a position of moral superiority. It was more than a little hypocritical, given what Lanthel knew her sister was getting up to. But somehow Lanthel was the wayward child and Tesaiel the upright adult. Normally that was fine with Lanthel, enjoyable even. She loved it when she could goad her sister into corporal punishment. But in this case...

Lanthel sighed. In this case it wasn't as fun when for once in her life she was trying to be an adult and have a real, responsible relationship. And it was stupid; if she'd found some priggish elflord to date Tesaiel would have been thrilled. Objecting to Egrid was classist and bigoted. 

She grumbled. It was awful being the sensible one; Tesaiel was so much better at it and it wasn't fair that Lanthel had to fill the role in this matter.

What she needed to do was cut the legs out from Tesaiel's moral high ground, and then have a talk with her. Not tell her about Egrid, not yet; just... arrive at an understanding that maybe Tesaiel could ease off on having opinions about Lanthel's lady parts and their usage. That was going to involve making it clear that Lanthel knew about her bedroom habits. It would require tact, something Lanthel was not the best at.

She was going to have to go pay a call on her sister. An unexpected call. Normally she would just ask Egrid to arrange it, but Egrid probably wouldn't care for the plan, and she didn't want to get her in trouble anyway. What she needed was a way to get past the krav wolves so she could just wander the grounds. Easier said than done. She didn't think throwing them a steak would do the trick.

For some time she lazed around and stewed and schemed, coming up with one wild plan after another that she inevitably discarded as being unworkable or foolishly dangerous. Then something bubbled up into her mind, and she frowned.

She did have a contact. One who was skilled in the magic of the darker forms of nature. Perhaps they could do something for her?

Lanthel bit her lip. The last time she had asked a favor had not been entirely pleasant. She wasn't sure she wanted to repeat it. Still, this was important.

Making up her mind, she stood and strode briskly out of the house.

Her path took her through the university district, where one or two students of her acquaintance spotted her and waved greetings from the balcony of a pleasure house, beckoning her to join them. She waved back, but continued on her way.

Taking a twisted lane, she passed into the Foreign Quarter. She didn't go in far; the place she wanted was a little shop with a window full of herbs, brasswork, and skulls of various descriptions. Gathering her courage, she went inside the creaking door.

The inside was dry and dimly lit, with the glass jars taking up most of the space. Powders, spices, and drugs stood in racks, and brass statuettes, rods, and masks hung in places on the walls or rested on shelves or counters. Behind the main counter stood an ancient Abois woman, her dark face a mask of wrinkles under a pure white bun. Her eyes, though, were bright red.

"Mademoselle Lanthel," the woman greeted her. "What brings you back to old Mother Solange? Another spell to increase his ardor?"

"No," Lanthel replied. "This is something more difficult. More unusual. Do you know of krav wolves?"

"Krav wolves," Mother Solange said, nodding. "In Abois we call them elf-wolves, those who know. Among the smartest of animals. And the cruelest. I know them well. She who taught me introduced me to a pair, black as midnight, proud as lords."

"I need a spell that will let me walk among them unharmed," Lanthel told her.

The old woman whistled. "You don't ask for much, do you, young one? Do you know what you- no, of course you don't."

"So you can't do it?"

"I didn't say that," Mother Solange said slyly. "No, I didn't say that. But it will cost you, mademoselle. Yes, it will cost."

"You know that I have very little money," Lanthel said frankly.

"Of course. You know that I will take other payment. You remember the last time?"

Lanthel flinched slightly. "Yes."

The old woman laughed, a certain hunger in the sound. "Like that. But more so."

Sighing, Lanthel nodded. "All right. Right now?"

"Yes. Come with me into the back room."

Biting her lips, Lanthel followed her through a curtained door and down a small hallway. The back room was full of boxes and brasswear, the dusty smell of spices hanging in the still air. In one corner, next to a teapot on a packing case, was a small pallet with blankets and a pillow. The blonde elf pointed to it. "There?"

"Yes."

With a second's hesitation, she stripped off her clothing and set them in a heap at the foot of the pallet. Then she lay down on her side on the blankets. "I'm sore today. Please be careful."

"Ride a cock too big for you?" Mother Solange, with some amusement, slowly shed her shawl and dress.

"Yes." Lanthel watched as the old woman, completely naked now, walked towards her. Her body was withered, and her pubic bush was the same snowy white as her hair.

"A sign of a healthy young woman." Carefully, Mother Solange got into the pallet with her and lay on one side behind her. The elf felt the crone's ancient breasts press against her back as a clawlike hand reached down to touch her pubic mound. "I do love a healthy young woman."

Lanthel shivered and closed her eyes. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Just lie there while we get started, there's a delicious girl." The claw moved down to part her labia, while another hand reached out to cup a small breast. "Age has it's advantages, lovely young thing. I know all the tricks. Like... so."

A finger pressed into her tunnel, hard against a certain spot. At the same time her breast was squeezed in a precise way. Lanthel cried out in sudden pleasure, and then again as the finger probed elsewhere. She could feel hot breath in her ear, then the wetness of a tongue. As she shifted on the pallet she could feel the old woman press more closely against her.

"Elves are the best for youth," the old woman breathed. "The longer I live, the more I enjoy fucking them. As for you, Mademoselle..."

Lanthel gasped and gave a short, choking cry as the fingers played her pussy like an instrument. Her back arched back, and her breast shivered under Mother Solange's sure touch.

"...you are too much like a boy, to be perfect," the other woman continued. Her voice sounded smoother, younger. "A body more healthy than maidenlike. But that has its appeals too. We can't all be fine maidens."

Her torso pressed against Lanthel's back, and the elf was somewhat shocked to feel plump, firm breasts rubbing against her, the nipples hard. Opening her eyes and looking down, she saw that the arms around her were smooth and black, the arms of a young woman. Not a wrinkle marred the fingers caressing her labia.

"What... why are you..."

"Sex makes me feel young again," Mother Solange told her in a lazy, amused voice. "I was not always old."

"I-" Lanthel broke off as the arms spun her around. She was face to face now with a tall, classically beautiful young Abois woman, her eyes bright red and seeming to glow with a bloody light. Slowly, Solange leaned forward and kissed her, hard and deep; their breasts rubbed against each other, their hips pressed together. With a hungry sound, she pushed Lanthel down into the pallet and slid fully atop her, one leg forcing between the elf's thighs.

Lanthel moaned and gasped as the witch took her violently and passionately, their bodies bucking and writhing together on the blankets. Darkness seemed to close in about her as she tried to keep up with her partner, her slim hands caressing the dark back and flanks. The light in the room grew less and less, until finally all she could see was her lover's glowing red eyes, staring into her own dazed ones.

The hands roaming her torso gripped her firmly, and they rolled over, Lanthel now on top and the Abois below. Slowly, with the occasional stimulation of her cunt by a questing finger, Lanthel was turned over until they were both facing up, in a stack with Lanthel on top. Hands that felt a little too big squeezed the elf's tiny mounds, and then...

Lanthel shrieked in shock and sensation as a thick, erect penis slid into her. She thrashed and tried to get up... why couldn't she see! Why was it so dark? But the hands held her, pressed to her partner's torso, and now the unseen member in her began to slowly, powerfully fuck her.

"Ohhhh.... oh gods, what..." Lanthel moaned, fear in her voice. "I can't see..."

Rasping, booming laughter came from beneath her, and she shuddered. They seemed to lurch upward together, and suddenly it felt like they were both suspended in space, the pallet no longer beneath them. Lanthel could hear the beating of large wings quite close by, and she flailed, held up by two arms around her upper body and the penis impaling her sex. A wind around them indicated movement. It smelled of sulphur and ashes.

The huge hands kneaded and toyed with her small breasts, and Lanthel let out a wail as her pussy was taken over and over. She was so sensitive from Naatok... who or what was inside her... this was such a horrible idea...

A rumbling, lustful growl came from somewhere just behind her head, and Lanthel screamed as the cock pushed deeper and faster. Oh gods.... this was too much... she was so sensitive, and she was so overwhelmed...

Lanthel shrieked over and over as she came, body spasming as it dangled on the cock holding it. Something behind her shrieked as well. It didn't sound like a person.

It felt like they were descending, now. As her own shudders from her climax faded, she felt a hot, burning wetness erupt in her cunt. It was warm, so warm....

She could see something dimly below now. A glowing red mass. It was getting brighter... and closer.... an inferno of some sort, a red and black glowing lake... the heat was scorching now. They dove downward towards it, even as the last few spurts shot into Lanthel's ravaged pussy and the elf screamed with terror...

Lanthel jerked back with a start, a strangled scream leaving her lips. She was lying on her side, on the pallet, in the back room. Two withered hands were playing with her breasts. Her own nectar was glistening on the front of her thighs.

"Was it good for you too?" the crone whispered in her ear with a hint of mockery. "If you were to become my woman, there could be benefits, you know. You could even be my apprentice."

"Thank you, no," Lanthel replied, her voice shaking. She could feel the ancient body pressed against hers, like a warm raisin. "Was that all?"

"Yes. As much as I enjoy making you squirt and cum for me, I don't have the stamina of you young people. So that is all." The hands released her.

Lanthel quickly stood. The old woman leered at her as she gathered up her clothing, and the blonde elf fought down an impulse to strike her. "And my spell?"

"I put it into your body while we were having our fun. Among other things. For the next twenty-four hours you may walk freely among krav wolves so long as you intend no harm to them or any to whom they are bonded."

"What do you mean by intend harm?"

"Intent to physically attack. You can safely hurl insults or bruise tender feelings."

"Perfect." Lanthel finished dressing. "I will be on my way, then."

"Think about my offer," Mother Solange told her, still reclining. "There is so much you could do with the power I could teach you. And you would quickly learn to appreciate me."

"I'll think on it," Lanthel said neutrally, and quickly left.

Outside, she took a minute to lean against a wall and get her heartrate under control. This had been a mistake. She was never coming back here again. Lanthel liked to live on the edge, but her instincts told her she was pushing it by sharing the crone's bed.

She shuddered at the memory of those withered fingers playing with her secret places, the ancient body pressed against her own. Never again.

Until the next time she needed something, a little voice in her head told her.

Shaking her head violently, Lanthel hurried on her way. She had a sister to visit.

---

Urdo's manor was on a quiet street in the hills, lying next to the estates of other wealthy people. The grounds were protected by a high stone wall and a locked metal gate. That was no problem for Lanthel; she had long ago quietly made a copy of Egrid's gate key. She carefully unlocked it, and stepped inside.

A krav wolf immediately trotted up, and Lanthel swallowed nervously. The huge black shape seemed even bigger than it had the last few times she was here. It stopped in front of her, sniffed her quizzically, then seemed to lose interest and slunk off.

It worked! Gleefully, Lanthel scampered along the front walk to the main house. The front door was unlocked, and she went inside.

Now where would Tesaiel be? Probably the scriptorium. To hear Egrid say it, that was where she spent most of the day. Well, she thought she remembered the way...

A short time later she opened the scriptorium's door. There was no Tesaiel. There was, however, a young halfling woman in a white loincloth and halter curled up by the fire like a cat. She looked up as Lanthel entered. "Oh! You're not Mistress!"

"I'm Lanthel," the elf told her. "Who are you?"

"I'm Petra," the halfling told her proudly. "I'm Mistress Tesaiel's slave."

"I see. That's very lucky for you. I know all about that position." Lanthel giggled. "Do you help dress her and run her errands?"

"No, not often, miss. Mostly I serve as her concubine."

Lanthel just stared, totally at a loss. "I... excuse me? You're her sex slave? She keeps you to have sex with?"

"Oh, not with Mistress," the halfling told her, sounding a little wistful. "With her lord, when Mistress is busy."

Lanthel laughed. "Oh gods, Tesaiel, you even have someone to put out for you when you're tired. What a life!"

"Maybe I shouldn't have said that," Petra said, looking suddenly worried. "Who are you, miss? You're not a servant."

"I'm Tesaiel's dear sister," Lanthel told her proudly. "Whom she loves above all others."

"Oh! Greetings, Lady Lanthel!" Petra hurriedly got up and curtsied awkwardly. "Tell me how I can serve you."

"Hmm," Lanthel said, frankly eying the halfling's little rump as she bent. She couldn't fault Tesaiel on her taste. She was strongly tempted to see what kind of skills Petra had with that tiny halfling tongue, but she was here for a reason and shouldn't let herself get distracted. "Why don't you be a dear and tell me where my sister is hiding?"

"Mistress went outside to enjoy the garden," Petra said. "But there's krav wolves out there, miss. You'd better wait until she comes in."

"Do you know when that will be?"

Petra shook her head. "No, miss, sorry. Mistress didn't say."

"Well, I'll just go out and find her. The krav wolves don't bother me." Today, at least.

"They like Mistress." Petra sounded in awe. "They don't dare bother her."

"That's very sensible of them." She patted the halfling on the head. "It was nice to meet you, Petra. Do a good job for your mistress."

"She says I try hard," Petra said shyly.

"I'm sure you do," Lanthel murmured, looking her up and down. Maybe some other time. Giving the halfling a little wave, she headed back out to the lawn.

Tesaiel was nowhere to be seen on the wide expanse of green, and Lanthel frowned. Could Petra have been mistaken? She didn't think so. What if Tesaiel had gone out to the city for the day? This spell would only last twenty-four hours, so she only had this one shot at this. Damn!

Then she spied the entry to the hedge maze and brightened. Of course, that was part of the garden too, wasn't it? She was probably in there.

Lanthel headed in, and almost immediately came upon two discarded slippers. She bent and sniffed one; the familiar odor of her sister's sweat greeted her nostrils, and she smiled. Tesaiel was somewhere in here; she just needed to remember the turnings so she didn't get lost.

She went down the narrow green corridors of the maze, enjoying the sun and the topiary. Lanthel had always had a fondness for this sort of thing; if she ever regained her family's former wealth she would have one built on her estate. She could chase all sorts of beautiful things through it...

Her ears pricked. There was noise up ahead. She thought she heard her sister's voice. Beaming, Lanthel dashed forwards and turned the corner. Then she stopped dead.

Tesaiel was on her hands and knees in the middle of the path ahead. She was naked, and mounting her was the biggest krav wolf Lanthel had ever seen. It was fucking her with rapid, jerky strokes while Tesaiel moaned happily and pushed her quivering rump higher and higher, grinding it against her bestial paramour's body. Her mouth was open in delight and exertion, her tongue lolling out. The krav wolf's jaws were nipping at her neck.

Lanthel just stared in shock and wonder. She had known Tesaiel had done one of the wolves... Egrid had told her... but she'd had no idea it was a regular thing. Good gods, Tesaiel was ENJOYING it. She knew that look from seeing her own face in the mirror during particularly good sex. Her sister and a krav wolf! Part of her was actually scandalized and outraged... her, Lanthel!

Panting, Tesaiel made a long, happy sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. Lanthel swallowed dryly, feeling sweat pour down her brow as she watched her sister service the animal like a willing she-dog in heat. This was not how she'd expected this to go...

Tesaiel's head turned, and she saw Lanthel.

She gave a strangled yelp, her eyes growing wide as saucers. An expression of utter horror and mortification blossomed on her flushed face, and her mouth worked soundlessly. Her arms gave way, and she tumbled face first into the gravel path, her mate still humping her enthusiastically. "L-L-Lanth... you... I...!"

"Why don't I go inside?" Lanthel said hurriedly. "You can join me when you're done, dear."

Tesaiel didn't reply. She just crouched there, face against the gravel, ass quivering as the krav wolf continued to take her. Her cheeks were a bright crimson and her eyes were stunned and watery.

The wolf atop her looked up and met Lanthel's eyes, and an almost physical jolt of lustful amusement passed between them. I know this turns you on, the krav wolf seemed to say inside her head. Isn't she delicious like this?

Coloring very slightly, Lanthel turned and fled the maze.

She went back into the manor, sat down on a bench in the foyer, and waited. The images of what she had just seen replayed themselves over and over in her head, and she crossed her legs and bit her lip, squirming. She knew this was going to show up over and over again in her dreams and fantasies.

She just had to get through the talk, now. That was the worrying part. What exactly could she say?

Finally, after several dozen minutes, Tesaiel walked briskly in from the lawn. Her dress was a little askew and her face was an expressionless mask. "Lanthel, come to the drawing room with me."

"Yes, sister." 

She followed her down a hall to a small sitting room papered in green damask. Tesaiel locked the door, then sank into a settee. "Lanthel... what you saw... I..." Her face grew bright red, and she trailed off. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, sister," Lanthel told her, sitting down next to her. "I could tell you were enjoying yourself. Yes?"

Wordlessly, unable to look at her, Tesaiel nodded.

"Then that's all I need to know," Lanthel said firmly. "I just want you to be happy as a woman, dear sister. If that means sporting with a krav wolf, then so be it."

"I'm having sex with an animal, sister," Tesaiel said wretchedly. "An evil animal. And I love it. I'm so ashamed to have you know... to have seen us..."

Lanthel patted her on the shoulder. "Oh, goodness dear, I'm hard to shock with bedroom matters. Though you nearly managed it. You don't need to be ashamed. Different people have all sorts of different lusts, it just adds variety to the world."

"There... there's more." Tesaiel swallowed. "You know that I am keeping Mister Urdo's books?"

"Yes?"

"That... that isn't all I do for him. He and I..." Tesaiel swallowed, and then buried her face in her hands.

"You're having sex, yes." Lanthel blinked. "Good gods Tesaiel, did you think I didn't KNOW?"

Tesaiel's head snapped up in shock. "Y-You KNEW?"

"Of course I knew! Goodness, dear sister, I saw you and he on the bed together from the viewing port the first night you came here. I was quite grateful to you, although later on I concluded you'd done yourself a favor too."

Tesaiel's mouth worked soundlessly. Lanthel giggled, and gave her a little hug. "Tesaiel. Sister. You've needed a man, or a woman, or a krav wolf for AGES. Ever since that appalling disaster you had with that scum Andaru. I've been worried about you for years, and now you're getting soundly pleasured on a regular basis. I'm proud of you, dear, and frankly relieved."

"W-With a goblin and a krav wolf!" Tesaiel sounded a little shocked at her easy acceptance. "Do you know the scandal this will bring if it becomes known?"

"Don't let it become known," Lanthel advised. "If I can be discreet in my affairs, I'm sure you can in yours. Neither of us are exactly mixing in society much anyway. Don't make too much of it."

"Are you really not horrified?" Tesaiel asked in a small voice.

"You sound a little disappointed," Lanthel said, giggling. "I'm really not. Surprised, yes. And I don't think I would want a krav wolf on top of me, myself; I draw the line at animals. Although they do have quite big penises, from what I saw. Do you think they could fit in me?"

"It would be tight, but yes," Tesaiel said, looking at Lanthel with an odd expression. The blonde elf tensed in delighted surprise as she realized that for the first time in her memory Tesaiel was actually looking at her with arousal in her eyes. Good gods, her sister was getting off on the idea of Lanthel being fucked by a krav wolf!

"Well, the option is open, then," she said with forced calm, trying to hide her excitement. This was further than she'd ever gotten. She had to think about this.

"How in the name of the gods did you get into the grounds?" Tesaiel asked plainitively. "The krav wolves should have been all over you."

"Magic," Lanthel told her smugly. "Dark magic. It's only good for twenty-four hours, so this won't be a habit. And apparently it stops working if I decide I want to hurt you or Mister Urdo. Why that is, I couldn't say."

"Well, that makes it less of a security hole, at least. I do hope it wasn't a cheap, common spell."

Lanthel shuddered a bit. "Definitely not."

"Good." Tesaiel sighed, and then gave her a small hug. "Thank you for being so understanding and accepting, sister. I know I've behaved very badly."

"No, not at all," Lanthel told her, patting her shoulder. "If you really wish to thank me, you could accord me the same courtesy in my affairs. I can understand getting upset at disasters like my little conviction for arson, but you DO try to manage my romantic life more than is strictly your business. Not as much any more, of course, since we see each other so seldom. But really, dear, I've been old enough to choose my own lovers for years and years. Sometimes you seem to think I'm still a fourteen-year-old virgin."

"But I need to make sure you-" Tesaiel forced herself to stop, and then slowly nodded. "You're right, Lanthel," she said reluctantly. "Given my own lovers, it would be hypocritical of me to criticize yours. And you have always been discreet. I suppose that is all I can expect of you." Her face sagged. "We have fallen into degeneracy, sister, and I most of all."

"You're being silly again, Tesaiel," Lanthel told her firmly. "You seem a lot happier with your life on the whole than you did when you were a bitter hermit cooped up in our townhouse tearing your hair out over your sweet sister's antics. You probably needed a little degeneracy."

Tesaiel laughed. "Maybe I did."

"Is it really that good, with the krav wolves?" Lanthel asked, deeply curious. "Is it the whole pack, or just one...?"

"Just one. The alpha. And yes, it is really that good." Tesaiel shivered, her cheeks blushing. "There's a mental connection... and the intensity of it... his hunger..." Her cheeks reddened further. "I don't do it often. But when I do... oh gods. I can't believe I'm talking about this with you."

"We are sisters, Tesaiel love. I take an interest." Lanthel squeezed her hand. "I'm glad it makes you happy."

"Thank you. I think I'd like to go rest now, sister. Can you-"

"Say no more." Lanthel stood. "Goodbye, Tesaiel. I'll see you again when I can."

Her sister smiled wanly, and then got up and left for her rooms.

Lanthel smothered titters of sheer delight. Oh, she had the most delightful luck! That couldn't have gone any better if she'd planned it. She would have laid out the facts of her and Egrid right there, but she felt Egrid would want a say in that decision. They had definitely set the groundwork for her exposure to be a nonissue, though. Perfect!

She skipped out into the foyer, where Petra was sweeping with a broom far too big for her. "Did you see Mistress, Lady Lanthel?"

"I did!" She swept up a startled Petra into her arms, lifted her off the ground, and spun her around. "Everything's going wonderfully!"

"O-Oh good," Petra squeaked.

Lanthel slipped a hand under her loincloth. "I wish I had a cute little concubine," she said mischeviously. "Tesaiel's sooooo lucky."

Petra's eyes bulged. "Oh lady, that's my- OHHHH!"

"You're just cute enough to eat," Lanthel murmured. "I love to eat up cute little slaves. With my teeth." She lightly bit the tip of Petra's stubby nose, her hand still at work. "Would you like me to eat you?"

"Lady, would Mistress let- OHHHHHH.... I don't k-know that I s-should... AAAAAHNNN!"

Lanthel giggled, kissed her on the lips, and then set her down. She took the hand that had been under Petra's loincloth and stuck the wet fingers in her mouth, licking them. "I'll be back, little concubine. Next time you won't get away so easy."

"Y-Y-Yes, Lady Lanthel," Petra squeaked, looking like she might faint.

A few of the krav wolves glanced at her on the way out. Lanthel thought they looked smug.

---

"And here we are, my lady," Freit said cheerfully. "Back again. You do remember Naatok, I trust?"

"Oh yes," Lanthel said brightly. "I do."

"Given that you made a noisy, wriggling cocksleeve for him last time, that's only to be expected. Now, if you'll be so good as to take off your clothes..."

Lanthel looked around the sparse bedroom. Freit and Naatok were both watching her intently. She grinned, and made a show of stripping out of her riding costume and breeches, leaving herself clad just in scarlet stockings. "We have some things to discuss, first," she said.

"Oh? Please not to be so rough, my tender lady?"

"Not really. I like it rough. But I had a talk with Tesaiel. It is no longer the end of the world if you tell her about myself and Egrid. Oh, and before you have any other threats for me, there are letters waiting to go to Egrid and Tesaiel if I meet with an accident."

Freit's face darkened. "So you're saying I have no hold on you." She sighed. "And I can tell you're speaking truth. You may as well get dressed and go, then."

"Not exactly," Lanthel said sweetly. "You have no hold on me, but I know who YOU are, Freit the Brigand. How do you think Egrid would react if I were to tell her what you made me do?"

Freit looked alarmed. "What is it you want?"

Lanthel walked over to the bed, and plopped herself down on it in a reclining position, back against the headboard. "Take your clothes off, Freit."

Slowly, reluctantly, the mutilated swordswoman did.

"How ugly you are," Lanthel tittered dementedly. She opened her legs. "Get on your hands and knees. Kneel before your Lanthel. Use your clever tongue."

Freit shook her head and laughed, the sound half admiring, half bitter. Then she got on the bed and placed her head between the blonde elf's thighs.

Giggling, Lanthel stroked her hair. "Yesssss, my bold Freit, just like that." She looked up at Naatok, grinned wickedly, and pointed to the swordswoman's protruding hindquarters. The goatman threw back his head and gave a long, braying laugh. Then he seized Freit by the hips.

"Wait a second-" Freit's voice broke off into a harsh gasp as Naatok's penis speared deeply into her cunt. "Fucking hells, you asshole! I'm not wet yet! Oh gods, that hurts!"

"Pay attention, dear," Lanthel told her, pushing her head back down. "My womanhood isn't going to lick itself."

"Damn it!" Freit resumed licking, tears of pain streaming down her face. "I'm going to be sore for days. AAAAAHH!"

"Next time I'll bring my special whip," Lanthel cooed, throwing her head back as Freit ate her pussy. "Egrid won't let me whip her. You've been VERY naughty, Freit. I'm going to whip you EVERYWHERE."

"What the hells have I done?" Freit mumbled.

"Naatok, if you make her cum twice, I'll suck the seed off your manhood," Lanthel told him. "She likes it rough."

The goatman rumbled with laughter.

Naatok earned his reward. Lanthel was happy to give it to him.

Continued in Chapter 12

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