The Trampling Boots of Battle - Part 3

Part 3

"I see the appeal of gold and land and trade; I don't really see the appeal of a card marked with only symbols of prosperity. Give me real wealth any day over this," I waved the card a few times before whipping it back towards my sister, who caught it with practiced ease.

Mother sighed, "It's symbolic."

"That means I'm still a poor mercenary. So what's the appeal?" I was fed up with it and stood as they settled in for a third hand, parting the beads covering mother's place and walking through the large tent towards the entrance. The sounds of debauchery grew louder and in spite of myself, I felt my manhood stirring. I was no blushing virgin, yet at the same time, I wasn't one of the lechers who regularly patronized the camp whores. It wasn't a sense of righteousness, merely a question of comfort; I couldn't bear the thought of mother or Inanna hearing me take a woman.

So I moved the way I learned satisfied and spent men did, which made the whores ignore my presence. With one exception. I felt her hand tugging on the back of my shirt as I walked, immediately calling out her name, stopping without turning around, "Segula."

"Belus." Her voice was melodious and soft despite her profession, "You still shun the cards? Or perhaps you shun your mother?"

I twisted towards her in a measured fashion, looking at her out of the corner of my eye, "I don't shun my mother."

Segula was shorter than I by a full head, her skin having a milky, translucent quality and hair -- in both the color and fashion -- resembling a bouquet of black roses, worn short in a pile of curls about her head. The foreign styling was complemented by her amber-hued eyes, drawing even more attention to her appearance. And as if that wasn't exotic enough, there were her tattoos. For the time being, they were brutish horizontal stripes around her wrists, elbows and waist, while a pair of intricate flowers adorned her face on either cheek. Finally, to accentuate her curves and entice the men of the camp, she wore a short black tunic that was slit partway up the center to show her smooth belly, leaving her legs largely bare. Her looks made her strikingly exotic anywhere anyone could find account and yet not one knew where she'd come from.

No one could account for her accent, her clothing or the manner in which she'd periodically apply temporary tattoos of red to her face and body. In a few weeks she'd bore of the look or they would fade and Segula would change them. Over the course of a few days, she'd spend a great amount of time scrubbing away at her skin with special oils, collecting herbs and berries and other ingredients, grinding and mixing them into a fine paste then applying them ever so carefully to her own skin. She worked obsessively at the task when it was to be done and I figured it for her own form of worship, but Segula was silent on the matter.

Segula took her hand off me and raised it in a gesture of mild demurral, "Of course not. I was merely raising the possibility." Unlike most of the other whores, she spoke well. At times it could be grating but for right now I was fine with it, "But then it follows that you shun the cards. Why?"

"Silly superstitions and nothing more."

"They are also a game of chance; that is more than a silly superstition." Her eyes lit up as she spoke and her lips broke into a slight smile, "Have you never given them the chance to change your fortune?"

"If I had a fortune, I'd want my hand holding a spear to change it, not a hand of cards." I turned back away, but she grasped my arm, just above the elbow.

"Please, don't go yet. The cards are unimportant. What is important is that you are blooded now..."

I didn't want to turn back around and let her beguile me with soft words and creamy flesh, but my cock began thinking for me. I turned around and put the back of my hand on her shoulder, near enough to her neck that she inhaled quickly. Segula had been cold to me before but that was before I was bloodied in battle. Now, I could feel something else. A sense of... respect? Admiration?

She didn't tell me what it was. Instead she showed me, taking my hand and putting two of my fingers between her lips, sucking on them slowly. Only a fool wouldn't have known what was meant by that, her mouth releasing my fingers to trail down the front of her tunic, the material loose enough that the weight of my fingers pulled it away and revealed her breasts underneath. The invitation was there and I accepted it, following her to her place -- mercifully far from mother's place.

As I crossed the threshold of her beads, Segula walked to the far end, swaying hypnotically while keeping her back turned to me, using the opportunity to shed her tunic. The insubstantial material fell in a weightless puddle at her feet and she gracefully nudged it away before laying down on her feathered cushions, each one of them dyed in a varying hue of red. I knew well where the cushions had come from: the sack of a walled city that paid its guards too little to make the investment in stone worthwhile, taken from a noblewoman's manse right on the heels of the flames.

I was younger and foolish then, piling cushions on a swaybacked mule and hauling the frightened beast back to our lines just in time for Maher to show up with an armful of silver jewelry and several ceremonial swords across his back. Most of the other men in the siege lines laughed at me, declaring me a pampered dandy of a courtier for grabbing cushions rather than gold or jewels. Segula had paid well for them, though in gold rather than late nights. Even back then I'd been nothing but a silly boy playing at a man's game.

Despite my embarrassment at the reminder of my youthful foolishness, I liked the effect they had on her skin. Segula's creamy thighs sank deeply into the red, contrasting in some ways with the red tattoos about her figure but complementing her naturally light skin. It allowed me to focus on the rest of her as she twisted her upper body towards me. Segula, while not the most voluptuous woman about the camp, certainly held her own in that regard. Her breasts were upturned affairs, just big enough to overflow my hands, with little pink nipples. Below them was a lean figure only prevented from slipping into boyishness by the wonderful curve of her generous hips. All of this was aided by her heart-shaped bottom, tight and rounded.

As she knelt on the cushions, Segula gestured with two fingers for me to come closer, quickly undoing my breeches and hauling them down to my knees. I was already aroused, my cock flinging upward a bare inch from her face. Yet she didn't so much as flinch, her smiling growing when she grabbed me by the stem, her fingers barely able to touch around my thickness. Her eyes dropped down to examine it more closely and I could feel her hot breath along washing all over my member, right down to my balls. A craving expression twisted her face more and more the closer she leaned towards my member. Segula pressed her nose against my sac, dragging it upwards along the underside of my cock without the slightest hint of shame or hesitation. She tilted her head back, my cock running the full measure of her face and lapped gently at my balls for awhile, keeping a tight fist around the base of my cock.

I was throbbing with my own unfulfilled need by that point, Segula's grip feeling more and more like a vise with each heartbeat. She fattened my cock by squeezing it at the stem, the black-haired lady of pleasure holding tight enough to excite, but not so tight as to stop the flow of more blood. At the same time, her tongue kept working my balls, going faster and becoming more fervid with each passing second. It seemed as if the whore was trying to work my jewels like a juggler -- but with tongue instead of hands. I let her know it pleased me, groaning and looking down as she stared up, her amber eyes twinkling with her mouth open and tongue lewdly extended over my sac.

No matter what I might have imagined her to be, Segula was first and foremost a whore. And a good one at that, promptly building up a mouthful of spit to ease the passage of my cock deeper into her mouth. She deliberately let it dribble down my length before tugging in quick strokes using her dainty hand to smear it in. At the same time, Segula moaned quietly and looked up, peering straight into my eyes. She liked the look of them and told me on several occasions that she'd never seen the shade of green I possessed. Her own amber irises swam with a unquenchable sense of longing, staring up into mine with only blinks to interrupt the intimacy we shared.

She served me with the same technique that she used on other men, but with vigor and hungriness adding immensely to her performance. The wet sound of her stroking became louder and she pulled back to spit on my cock again before her pink lips took up the tip of my cock. Her tongue licked, easy and smooth, at the underside of my crown, right on the spot where the shaft met. It made me feel butterflies all over and I gritted my teeth, willing myself calm. I wanted it to last and Segula wouldn't make that easy with the practiced techniques of her warm, wet mouth.

Once my spear was slick with her spit and drool, Segula pulled her head back. She went about pinning her raven-black hair back, keeping her eyes and mouth clear of any strays. My own cock flopped downward under its own weight, drips of spit falling off and onto her cushions. She took her time, setting her locks in place properly, before leaning back in with both hands on the cushions between her thighs and sinking her mouth upon me. The feeling was like touching a bolt of the finest silk, her lips somehow tight yet soft. Her face contorted as Segula unhinged her jaw to suit my size, gargling me second-favorite spear as it filled her mouth.

This was the part where the pale whore showed her talent, taking more and more of me between her lips, leaning her body forward and tilting her head back to provide the right angle that I would be able to fit my full length inside. She bobbed back and forth, a deep blush covering her face as spit covered her lips and chin in equal measure. Her tongue rolled over the tip whenever I penetrated deep, priming me for release. And she moaned. She moaned like few women would, even if paid for their acting services. She moaned like my cock was pure ambrosia being poured directly into mouth. I bit my lip and left her to the work, feeling my own climax approaching.

Segula put her whole body into it, going from an upright kneeling position to her hands and knees, allowing my entire spear to pierce her from lips to throat. Spit came off her chin in rivulets and wet streaks of tears marred her face, but she continued sucking regardless. The only disruption was her natural pauses to take in more air, pulling off my cock entirely, but rubbing her face all over it as she gasped and inhaled desperately. It made a worthy mess of her, but she didn't mind, intentionally rolling my spit-slick weapon all over her tattooed face and moaning in ecstasy.

Before long, I was close to cumming, her sans-hands ministrations bringing me right to precipice of rapture but not quite carrying me over. I clenched my teeth and fists, willing myself to go over and finish, however it failed to take, leaving me breathing heavily as Segula worked back and forth, her mouth distending every time she pulled away due to the tightness of her lips.

"Segula... ah, I'm going to --"

Her eyes popped open and she nodded, "Mmmph!" She was well familiar with men's habits and quickly gave me a powerful bit of suction before pulling off my spear with a pop, sitting upright once more. Her hands clasped at my member and stroked, while her tongue polished the head of it. She looked worn-out: her face was covered in the deep red of exertion, her jaw was dripping with spit and precum, her eyes amber eyes bloodshot and tears had streaked down her cheeks. But the whore knew she was nearly finished and looked to me, bidding my release with a glance and two tight fists jerking me swiftly.

I put my hand on her forehead and ran my fingers through a bit of her hair as I came. It was copious as always, my pent up load spurting right into Segula's open mouth like an arrow in flight, without a doubt hitting her throat. She didn't flinch or winch or even move, leaving her mouth open and accepting my seed without the barest hint of complaint. Again and again, my balls clenched and my cock throbbed, spraying another batch of cum past her lips. Segula let it fill her mouth like a goblet, only moving her mouth forward as the offering fell to a trickle.

With her mouth filled, Segula gargled my seed for a few seconds before closing her mouth and swallowing, a small bit dribbling past the corner of her lip and down her chin. With all the wetness, she could scarcely be expected to notice but seemed to have a sixth sense, taking one of her fingers and scooping it back into her mouth before swallowing a final time.

"Now, go back to your mother's place."

As I gathered up my clothes and dressed before parting the beads of Segula's place, I felt as if nothing else seemed to matter.

The End?