The Feast

by Rowan Bree

  You tell the man it would be a waste to keep you locked up. He’d have a lot more fun with you outside of the cage.

  The corners of the man’s mouth curl up just slightly, but enough that you know it’s working.

  The man tells the lizard to unlock the cage.

  The lizard hisses in protest, but has to do what his boss says. He steps aside as you follow the man away from the cage, glad that your strategy worked.

  Behind the big tent filled with cages is a much smaller tent of deep red, done up on the inside like the bedchambers of a wealthy noble. Beside it is a covered wagon with bars over the windows.

  “You stay out here,” the man says, entering the tent.

  He comes back a moment later carrying a leather collar attached to a heavy chain.

  “I think you’ve deserved a spot as my special pet.”

  He puts the collar around your neck and padlocks the chain around one of the wagon wheels.

  You fumble with the collar but can’t find how it’s fastened.

  The man watches you. “Pets sleep outside until they are fully trained.”

  You nod your head, playing along with his fantasy. You tell him you’ll be a good pet.

  He smiles at you and goes into the tent. You wonder what he will bring out next, perhaps a gag or a whip. Or maybe a treat for his submissive pet. The thought of it excites you.

  But he doesn’t come out. You call after him, wondering what’s taking him so long. It’s getting later and you worry the castle gates will be closed by the time you arrive.

  Eventually you give up. It’s obvious you’re the one who was tricked. The man isn’t coming back out for you. You curl up next to the wagon wheel. All you can do is bide your time and wait for an opportunity to escape.

  You aren’t aware of having drifted off until you are woken by a callused hand on your cheek. The hand pries your jaw open and stuffs a rag in before you can scream for help. A sack goes over your head. There is a clink of metal snapping. Arms lift you off the ground and carry you away.

  The castle.

  You rattle the bars of your cage and shout to try and get someone, anyone to look at you. A man passing by nearly jumps out of his skin from the sudden racket, but comes to your cage nevertheless.

  “You don’t look like you belong here,” he says. He has deep brown eyes and a soft expression. His clothes are a bit nicer than those of the other visitors. He looks like he could be a professor.

  “I was kidnapped,” you say. “I’m supposed to be at the king’s feast.”

  The man’s eyes go wide. He moves closer to speak quietly. “You’re not one of them, are you? A rare being?”

  You shake your head. “I need to get out of here.”

  The man’s eyes dart towards the heavy lock on the cage door. “Okay,” he says. “I can pick this lock. Usually I do this after-hours, but you’ll blend in with the crowd if you stick with me.”

  You keep a lookout as the man fiddles with the lock, but the goblin has finished his show and the crowd has dispersed. No one is around.

  “Come on.” The cage door swings open and the man offers his arm. You take it. “Slow and steady,” he says, keeping you close as you walk leisurely towards the exit. Your heart thuds painfully in your chest as you try not to think about what would happen if you were caught.

  “Deep breaths,” the man says. “You’ll be okay. How about we chat a bit to take your mind off things?”

  A pair of women pass and you stiffen. The man pats your arm in reassurance. “I’ll start. You’re probably wondering why I know how to pick locks, and why I’m so willing to help you.”

  You nod.

  “I research rare creatures and magical beings, and have published books on the subject. Sometimes I teach classes at the university. As knowledgeable as I am, I’m not nearly as good at finding them in the wild as these criminals seem to be. So I come here to fill the holes in my knowledge, and occasionally let one or two captives free after the market has closed for the night.”

  He quiets as a large group passes by.

  “I’d love to set them all free and set fire to the tent, but alas I’m not that kind of man.”

  You make it through the exit and out onto the street. The professor accompanies you a bit further then lets go of your arm.

  “I trust you can make it to the castle on your own?” he asks. The high walls and towers are already visible ahead. As long as you don’t run into any more fake fortunetellers you should be okay.

  “Well, I hope you enjoy the feast,” he says.

  As he turns to leave you realize you haven’t properly thanked him.

  Express your gratitude through words.

  Thank him with a kiss.

  If you want the attention of the crowd, you’re going to have to rival what the goblin is doing. You carefully strip off your dress and place it in the corner for safekeeping. No sense getting it dirty if you still want to attend the feast.

  You press yourself against the bars of your cage. The cold iron makes your nipples stiff as you try to get noticed by the crowd. A couple of spectators look your way but you fail to keep their attention, even when you pull down your panties to give them a teasing glimpse of your bare backside. These people came here to see rare creatures, not some human woman who could be found in any brothel or seedy bar in the city. You’re not interesting enough on your own. You’re going to need a partner.

  You look around at your three cage neighbors. The wolf remains asleep, while the cervitaur paces uneasily. The goblin has stopped trying to lick himself and is now spreading his naked ass for the crowd. Which will you choose?

  The wolf.

  The cervitaur.

  The goblin.

  The goblin already has a crowd. Maybe if you choose him things will be over quicker.

  “Hey you,” you shout through the bars.

  The goblin looks up from his contorted position.

  “Come here,” you tell him.

  He ignores you and goes back to trying to lick the gleaming green head of his cock.

  You don’t give up. “Come on, I can do better than that.” You lower the bust of your dress to tease him.

  The goblin gets up with alarming speed and rushes at you. He climbs the bars of the cage until he is at your breasts and yanks down your dress, tearing the fabric and exposing your breasts to the crowd.

  You protest his roughness as he smashes your breasts together and thrusts his cock between them. He cackles at you and sticks his long, thick tongue in your mouth to shut you up. You choke and sputter as he tongue-fucks you. The crowd is going wild.

  You finally manage to break away, your lips wet with saliva and breasts slimy with precum. But the goblin already has you by the hair and is trying to shove his cock into your mouth. You fight for air but he pinches you until you open your mouth enough to let him in. His cock is disproportionately large for his size and it threatens to choke you. All you can do is cling tightly to the bars as you bear the onslaught.

  You nearly cry from joy when you feel the goblin’s seed hit the back of your throat. You think it’s all over, but it just keeps coming and coming, filling your mouth with slime and making you feel like you’re drowning. When the goblin finally pulls out you are a wreck. Cum dribbles from your open mouth onto your breasts.

  “Your turn,” the goblin cackles. You grab desperately onto the bars to stay upright as your vision swims. You feel like you’ve been drugged. Your mind is hazy. You feel a tugging at your dress and then a warm tongue against your slit. The goblin laps at your pussy until your legs open enough for him to violate you further. You let out a shameful moan as his tongue probes deep.

  You don’t know what’s worse, the way your body is responding or the crowd’s comments. You can feel yourself coming, your insides clenching against that vile tongue inside you as the men and women watching you do their best to make you feel like a deviant freak. It’s all too much and y
ou cover the goblin’s eager tongue with your juices until a large puddle forms underneath you. Satisfied, the goblin crawls away and goes to lie down in the corner of his cage.

  You hear slow clapping and turn to see the man with the cane. You struggle to pull your dress back up to cover your breasts.

  “Well done,” he says. He snaps his fingers and the lizard appears with a ring of keys. The lizard unlocks the cage door.

  “Lucky bitch,” the lizard hisses as you follow the man away from the cage, too disoriented and nervous to protest.

  Behind the big tent filled with cages is a much smaller tent of deep red, done up on the inside like the bedchambers of a wealthy noble. Beside it is a covered wagon with bars over the windows.

  “You stay out here,” the man says, entering the tent.

  He comes back a moment later carrying a leather collar attached to a heavy chain. Fresh fear grips you.

  “I think you’ve deserved a spot as my special pet.”

  He puts the collar around your neck and padlocks the chain around one of the wagon wheels.

  You fumble with the collar but can’t find how it’s fastened.

  The man watches you. “Pets sleep outside until they are fully trained.”

  He goes into the tent and you curl up next to the wagon wheel. Your head aches and your dress is soiled and torn beyond repair. Even if you could escape now there is no way you can go to the feast in your state. All you can do is bide your time and wait for an opportunity to escape.

  You aren’t aware of having drifted off until you are woken by a callused hand on your cheek. The hand pries your jaw open and stuffs a rag in before you can scream for help. A sack goes over your head. There is a clink of metal snapping. Arms lift you off the ground and carry you away.

  The castle.

  You thank the professor for his help. He smiles modestly and goes on his way.

  As you near the castle you hear horse’s hooves and the clatter of coach wheels, then the cheerful voices of the arriving guests. The castle courtyard is bathed in light streaming out from the hall, illuminating the king’s grand and varied guests. A centaur trots past you, nodding as he does so.

  Distracted by the handsome centaur, you fail to notice the elf until it is too late. He tackles you into the bushes beside the road. You hear a rip as your dress catches on some twigs.

  “Shut up,” he says, pressing his hand over your mouth and straddling you. You kick and struggle but the wiry elf has more strength in him than his appearance suggests.

  He leans in close. His breath smells of herb smoke. “I’m not going to do anything gross. I promise. Just listen to me.”

  You notice that one of his tapered ears is missing its top half. But his eyes don’t betray even a tiny bit of lust. You stop struggling.

  He gently removes his hand and gets off you. He helps you sit up. “I’m Eli,” he smiles as if he hadn’t just assaulted you. You realize that he is the same elf who tried to warn you, unsuccessfully, away from the lizard earlier tonight.

  You ask him why he attacked you.

  “I didn’t attack you,” he says rolling his eyes. “I saved your life.”

  “Sure,” you reply.

  He feigns surprise. “Wait, are you upset that I didn’t want to ravage you? I mean, if that’s what you want…”

  A bell starts tolling the hour. The feast is about to begin. “Not going to happen,” you tell the elf. His attitude is starting to get on your nerves. You start to get up.

  He yanks you back down.

  “I told you, you can’t go to the feast.”

  He hasn’t told you any such thing.

  “It’s the Dorians.” He sighs as if he’s really been having a rough time of it lately. “They’re trying to take over Tyven just like the old days. The black mages, those evil bastards are going to use their dark magic to cast a spell on the king at the feast and make him pledge his allegiance to their cult. Then we’re all fucked.”

  He rummages through a pouch on his belt and finds a flask. He takes a swig and hiccups loudly.

  “Seriously, though. Their leader is a real bad guy. Like human sacrifices bad. Him and his cult are going to be at the feast. I’m not sure what they’re planning, but it’s a good thing you don’t have an invitation. ”

  You pat the bosom of your dress where you had safely tucked the envelope but it isn’t there.

  “Give it back,” you tell him.

  He feigns an innocent look. “I don’t have it.”

  You spot the dagger on his belt and lunge for it. He scrambles out of the way just in time and produces the envelope from his sleeve.

  “Oh this?” he asks. He snaps his fingers and the parchment goes up in flames. He winks. “I promise I’m only doing this for your good. Let me show you what I mean.”

  He points towards a gap in the bushes and you reluctantly follow him. He skirts the castle wall finding a low bit where the stones have crumbled away. He clambers over this and drops to the other side. You do the same.

  “I thought the castle was dangerous,” you say.

  Eli leads you through the castle grounds as if well familiar with it. There is not a soul in sight, not even a single patrolling guardsman. You assume they are all too busy with the feast. Eli takes you through a door up a set of stairs onto a small platform of sorts overlooking the castle grounds. The platform is wedged between a high wall and one of the castle’s towers leaving little space for the two of you.

  “In here,” he says, pointing to a low window in the tower. Through it you can see an empty bedroom. An open space has been cleared at the foot of the bed and a large circular symbol carved into the wood. Red candles are melted at intervals into the design. There is a pool of what looks like blood in the center. A large book lies open on the bed. Its pages are covered in illustrations of demonic beasts.

  “The Order,” Eli whispers. “I told you they’re evil. We have to stop them before they enchant the king and take over the kingdom.”

  “What’s your plan?” you ask.

  “That bedroom belongs to one of the top mages, the only one with any real power. If we get rid of him, we save the kingdom.”

  Ask Eli for a smoke first.

  Get to work.

  “Wait,” you say. “I haven’t properly thanked you.”

  The professor turns back to you and you kiss him before he can say anything. He pulls away from you, startled, though his eyes linger on yours.

  “Please,” he says. “There’s no need.”

  “You’ve got someone,” you say.

  He shakes his head. “No, nothing like that.” He looks conflicted.

  Kiss him again.

  Leave him be.

  You kiss him again, harder this time.

  He again pulls away, this time more gently. “Why?” he asks quietly.

  “Because I like you. Do I need another reason?”

  “I didn’t think—“ he shakes his head.

  “You didn’t think you’d be my type?” you tease.

  The professor smiles bashfully.

  You ask him if there’s somewhere more private for the two of you.

  He takes you to a part of the market where it seems like everyone is wearing half the amount of clothes they should be. Both the women and men are gorgeous, and there is a spicy, sweet aroma in the air like myrrh mixed with citrus and cinnamon.

  “I’ve never been here before,” the professor says making his way carefully down the alley. He stops briefly in front of a tall, narrow building covered in red lanterns before moving on. Finally he seems to find what he is looking for.

  He passes a couple of coins to a man standing in front of a cluster of small rectangular tents, more like changing stalls really, all with numbers stitched to the front. The man silently hands the professor a numbered coin.

  He takes you by the hand and you go towards the tents, looking for the one with the coin’s number.

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else.”

  You find the assigned tent and the professor lifts the flap. You assume the other ones are occupied with busy couples, judging by the sounds you heard passing them.

  The tent is smaller than you expected inside, with only room to stand. The professor jostles against you as he closes the flap.

  “Cozy,” he says.

  You kiss him, unable to hold yourself back any longer. He seems unsure at first but follows your lead. His hands are on your waist, yours grasping the lapel of his suit. You pull his body close and can feel his arousal through his trousers. You grind up against him and his breath hitches. His kiss grows more passionate as you awaken his desire. Still you feel that he is holding back.

  “What do you want from me?” you breathe, pulling away from his kiss. “I’ll do anything. Just tell me.”

  You suck on his neck as you grind up against him.

  He seems to have lost his voice. Then he whispers, “I want you to suck me.” There is a dominant tone to his usually soft voice that excites you. You know he had it in him. All he needed was a little push.

  “I’m all yours,” you tell him, going to your knees. You slowly undo his belt and lower his trousers. The outline of his cock is well-defined underneath his briefs. You stroke it and feel his hand run through your hair. You look up.

  The way the professor is looking down at you makes your whole body weak. The shyness is gone, and what remains is a man who knows what he wants. It’s a good thing he is kind otherwise you might have been in trouble.

  You pull down his underpants and begin licking his cock. His low moans send shudders through you. You feel both powerful to be able to pleasure him so well and powerless to your desire for him.