by Rowan Bree
You push at the wardrobe door with all your might but the women hold it closed from the other side. The men greet you with greedy looks. There are three of them crowding the other side of the barred doors. One of them snatches at you and barely misses.
“Come closer,” he teases.
Go closer.
Stay away.
You keep the men’s mischief a secret, knowing it would lead to nothing but trouble. You sit back down and hope that someone will come to tell you what the hell is going on. You never knew being a slave would be so boring.
Eventually a group of guards comes to the room. They instruct everyone to line up by the door. You take your place at the very end of the line. There are more murmurs amongst the women of human sacrifices. You roll your eyes.
“We’re taking you to get bathed and changed,” one of the guards says. “Stay in line. No talking. No dawdling.”
You follow the line of women out of the room, wondering what is waiting for you. It’s hard for some of the women to follow orders, but the guards put them back in their place. No one seems to pay you any mind at the end of the line, however. There’s a chance you could sneak away.
Sneak away.
Stay in line.
You keep the men’s mischief a secret, knowing it would lead to nothing but trouble. You sit back down and hope that someone will come to tell you what the hell is going on.
Eventually a group of guards comes to the room. They instruct everyone to line up by the door. You take your place at the very end of the line. There are more murmurs amongst the women of human sacrifices. You roll your eyes.
“We’re taking you to get bathed and changed,” one of the guards says. “Stay in line. No talking. No dawdling.”
You follow the line of women out of the room, wondering what is waiting for you. It’s hard for some of the women to follow orders, but the guards put them back in their place. No one seems to pay you any mind at the end of the line, however. You could easily sneak away if you were so inclined, but you have a job to do.
You stay in line, following the guards up to a large tiled bath. The air is filled with a fragrant steam. The guards tell you to line up inside the room then leave you to the women working there.
The women have you undress and get into the bath. Anyone that doesn’t listen gets spanked with the wooden end of a scrub brush. But you’re all too happy to be rid of your hideous garment.
The water is warm and the fragrant oils make you sleepy. You try not to think of what your job might be at a feast. You hear more murmurs of human sacrifices, but choose to ignore them. Soon enough the women will know what’s going on.
A portly elven woman works over you with a sponge. She scrubs your skin so hard you feel like it’ll rub right off, then pours a bucket of water over your head. You sputter as the water runs over your face.
The woman slaps you on the back and makes you get out of the tub. You wonder why she’s so averse to using her words. She roughly dries and powders you, then spritzes you with oils. Finally, she slips a light linen dress over your head and clamps a collar around your neck. Sybil didn’t say anything about a collar. You look around to see other women receiving the same treatment.
Once everyone is dressed, the guards return take you up to where you will be working. Along the way the other women are informed of their job as entertainment for the private party’s guests. They fail to mention anything about the Order or its mages.
“But I can’t sing,” one of the religious-type women complains.
The guard laughs. “You will be by the end of the night,” he replies.
You pass through a stone archway draped with black curtains. Beyond is a room filled with guests, some in fine dress and others in stiff black robes. Half-dressed male slaves move amongst them, serving wine and submitting to the guests’ whims. They wear the same collar you do.
Red candles are placed on different surfaces and in sconces, and an open space has been cleared in the middle of the room. A circular symbol is carved into the stone floor. It is obviously dark magic but no one seems to mind. You wonder just how much danger you’re really in. The guards push you forward into the room.
“Get to work,” one of them tells you. “We’ll be keeping track of those who put in the most effort tonight. The king’s promised freedom if you do as you’re told.”
The group of women slowly starts to disperse through the crowd. Some are clearly used to this kind of work and have no trouble finding their place. You quickly scan the room looking for something to do. At some point you’ll need to find a way to communicate with Jasper where the party is.
On one of the tables is an ornate decanter full of wine you could use to refill guests’ glasses. Otherwise there is a finely dressed young man with curly dark hair who keeps looking at you.
Serve wine.
Go to the curly-haired man.
You drag Eli into the room behind you and pull off his shirt. He pushes you against the wall.
“We should have done this a long time ago,” he pants.
“Hurry up,” you tell him.
He pushes his hard cock against your panties. You reach down to slip them aside. You feel him plunge deep inside you. He bites at your neck and you bite him back. You’re desperate to taste every inch of him, to feel his dark blue skin pressing against yours. The need makes every nerve like a live wire. You feel electric.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” Eli moans.
“Not yet,” you tell him. You can’t believe the stupid elf is already going to cum. Your dress must have really gotten him hot and bothered.
“I can’t—“ Eli gasps, biting down hard on your shoulder.
“You have to,” you say.
Your hips move faster against him, willing the elf to hold on just a little longer. You can feel the build of your own orgasm nearing its peak.
Eli lets out a muffled cry as he cums hard, his hips bucking. You are disappointed to feel his wet cock slip out of you. He stands there panting, pinning you to the wall.
“I’m sorry,” he says with a cheeky grin. “Think you’ll forgive me?”
“Maybe,” you reply, grasping him by the hair and pushing him down to kneel.
You rest a foot on Eli’s shoulder as he goes to work on your throbbing pussy. His deft tongue massages you as he sucks on your clit. You feel him slip a finger inside.
You let out a loud expletive as the elf makes you come. You grab him by the hair and rock against him, ignoring his muffled yelps as your body spasms in pleasure. When you finally let him go his hair is a mess and his face is glistening.
“So did you forgive me?” he says staggering to his feet.
You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him roughly. He growls and pushes you against the wall.
“I need to go,” you whisper in his ear.
You playfully push him off you and head for the door.
Eli calls after you, “You never said if you forgive me.”
You leave without a reply.
To the castle.
Sybil takes you through the city streets and up to the castle. You follow her in through a side door where a pair of guards is waiting for you. They barely glance at you before placing a sack of coins in Sybil’s outstretched hand. You don’t think your ridiculous outfit made any difference in their choice.
“A pleasure doing business with you,” she curtsies, leaving you with the guards. You hope Sybil knows what she’s doing.
The room the guards bring you to is stale and stifling hot from bodies. The place must have once been a storeroom that has long since run out of use. There are random bits of dilapidated furniture—a chair here, a bookshelf there—but for the most part the room is void of any character.
You sit on a long wooden bench rubbing your wrists, wondering just how long you’re going to have to stay here. Other women sit, stand, and pace around the room. A couple even sleep noiselessly slumped on the dusty fl
oor. It seems the king has been busy rounding up women to serve the Black Mages.
“Human sacrifices,” the woman beside you whispers to her neighbor. She has long, unkempt hair that must have been beautiful once.
“Be quiet,” the other woman hisses. “You don’t want to start a panic.”
You turn your head slightly to follow their conversation.
“That’s why we’re here. The king’s religion has gone bad ever since the king’s wife died. I heard he’s trying to bring her back by sacrificing women to appease the gods and pay the price of her life.”
“Then what about all the men?”
The next room over is full of men likewise imprisoned. You hear them on occasion when a fight breaks out or someone decides to try and get the attention of the guards. There is an iron-barred door connecting the two rooms, but someone from the women’s side has long since pushed a wardrobe in front of it. It seems the men were not content to let the women be and needed to be deterred from causing trouble.
“It’s the Dorians,” another woman says from the floor. Her knees are drawn up to her chin and she has deep purple bruises down both legs. “They have a taste for slaves.”
The first woman tuts. “See what I said? Human sacrifices.”
Her friend is not convinced. “The black mages haven’t been around for decades. No one practices human sacrifice anymore, not even the Dorians.”
“You never know.”
You get up and stretch your legs. Though you know perfectly well why you’re here, you decide not to say anything. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.
As you pass by the wardrobe you hear a voice. It takes you a moment to remember that there is a door behind it.
“Almost there,” the voice says.
There is a violent crack of splintering wood, though the wardrobe appears unharmed from the outside.
“You bloody genius! Now we’ll be able to get at those women. Remember the one with the orange hair? She was rearin’ to go. Just have to get her into the wardrobe.”
The wardrobe door is ajar. You open it a little further and peek inside. It appears the men have removed a large portion of the back. You can see their room beyond the iron bars and the backs of the two men talking. You close the door again before they see you.
A woman notices the strange look on your face. She asks, “You all right?”
Tell her what the men have done.
Don’t say anything.
“Sybil’s waiting for me,” you tell him, leaving the elf with a teasing bounce in your step.
You follow Sybil through the city streets and up to the castle. She takes you in through a side door instead of the main entrance. Waiting for you are a pair of guards. They barely glance at you before placing a sack of coins in Sybil’s outstretched hand. You don’t think your ridiculous outfit made any difference in their choice.
“A pleasure doing business with you,” she curtsies, leaving you with the guards. You hope Sybil knows what she’s doing.
The room the guards bring you to is stale and stifling hot from bodies. The place must have once been a storeroom that has long since run out of use. There are random bits of dilapidated furniture—a chair here, a bookshelf there—but for the most part the room is void of any character.
You sit on a long wooden bench rubbing your wrists, wondering just how long you’re going to have to stay here. Other women sit, stand, and pace around the room. A couple even sleep noiselessly slumped on the dusty floor. It seems the king has been busy rounding up women to serve the Black Mages.
“Human sacrifices,” the woman beside you whispers to her neighbor. She has long, unkempt hair that must have been beautiful once.
“Be quiet,” the other woman hisses. “You don’t want to start a panic.”
You turn your head slightly to follow their conversation.
“That’s why we’re here. The king’s religion has gone bad ever since the king’s wife died. I heard he’s trying to bring her back by sacrificing women to appease the gods and pay the price of her life.”
“Then what about all the men?”
The next room over is full of men likewise imprisoned. You hear them on occasion when a fight breaks out or someone decides to try and get the attention of the guards. There is an iron-barred door connecting the two rooms, but someone from the women’s side has long since pushed a wardrobe in front of it. It seems the men were not content to let the women be and needed to be deterred from causing trouble.
“It’s the Dorians,” another woman says from the floor. Her knees are drawn up to her chin and she has deep purple bruises down both legs. “They have a taste for slaves.”
The first woman tuts. “See what I said? Human sacrifices.”
Her friend is not convinced. “The black mages haven’t been around for decades. No one practices human sacrifice anymore, not even the Dorians.”
“You never know.”
You get up and stretch your legs. Though you know perfectly well why you’re here, you decide not to say anything. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.
As you pass by the wardrobe you hear a voice. It takes you a moment to remember that there is a door behind it.
“Almost there,” the voice says.
There is a violent crack of splintering wood, though the wardrobe appears unharmed from the outside.
“You bloody genius! Now we’ll be able to get at those women. Remember the one with the orange hair? She was rearin’ to go. Just have to get her into the wardrobe.”
The wardrobe door is ajar. You open it a little further and peek inside. It appears the men have removed a large portion of the back. You can see their room beyond the iron bars and the backs of the two men talking. You close the door again before they see you.
A woman notices the strange look on your face. She asks, “You all right?”
Tell her what the men have done.
Don’t say anything.
You quickly glance back down the road before settling in for the show.
The man suckles at the woman’s breast as he fucks her.
She stifles a moan. “I told you, he’s on to us.”
The man sticks his finger into the woman’s mouth and she sucks at it.
“I bet it makes him furious imagining what we’re doing,” the man says. The woman’s nipple glistens with his saliva. He wipes his mouth.
You toy with your nipples through your dress as you watch them, wishing you were the woman splayed out on the counter.
The man kisses her hard and fucks her even harder, sending alchemical bottles rolling off the counter to shatter on the floor. She wraps her legs around him and moans into his kiss. It looks as though the show is almost over, though your nipples are hard and pussy dripping. You don’t think you can get yourself off in time.
Luckily for you, it’s not quite over. The man pulls the woman off the counter and bends her over on the floor. She squeals as he grabs her around the waist and pushes into her.
You hike up your dress and pleasure yourself as you watch the cheating pair. The man’s expression is determined as he asserts his dominance over another man’s woman.
The woman struggles to get her words out. “What’s gotten into you today?”
You find your sweet spot and temporarily lose sight of the couple. When you move your eye back to the keyhole they have already finished. The man’s wet cock hangs limply between his legs.
You sigh in frustration and close your eyes to replay the coupling in your head. Your hands move quickly as you think about the man’s hard cock and the animalistic way he took the married woman. You orgasm and lose your balance, falling forward into the door with a thud.
“What was that?” you hear the woman gasp.
You struggle to pick yourself up and disappear around the side of the shop before you’re caught. As you turn the corner you see a darkwood elf standing on a crate by a window, smoking. He wa
s apparently peeping as well.
He smiles at you. “You should have gotten the front row seats. It mustn’t have been comfortable crouching at the keyhole like that. And anyone passing by could see what you were up to.” He winks.
Fortunately it’s too dark to see the embarrassment on your face.
He tosses his cigarette and hops off the crate.
“I’m Eli.” You see that one of his tapered ears is missing its top half. He holds out his hand to shake. You don’t take it.
He shrugs. “Hey, since I didn’t quite get my fix you wanna give me a hand?”
The elf’s lack of shame is astounding. You catch a strong whiff of ale coming off him. He’s drunk.
Politely decline.
Fuck his brains out.
You give the couple their privacy and move on.
A man stands under a street lamp up ahead, his dark hood shielding his features from the candlelight. You give him a wide berth as you pass.
“Excuse me, miss-sss,” the man says. A lizard from the sounds of it. “But I believe you are going the wrong way.”
You have half a mind to ignore him, but something about his warning makes you pause.
“I’m going to the castle,” you say, stepping a bit closer to the mysterious figure.
“You don’t want to do that,” the lizard replies. He produces something from his robes and holds it out in the palm of his hand. You can’t make it out from where you are.
Take a closer look.
It could be a trap. Stay where you are.
