The Feast

by Rowan Bree

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 head to the guards’ table, but before you can place the platter down the men’s’ hands are all over you.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” says a guard with short blond hair as he hooks an arm around your waist.

  An orc guard tries to pull you to him by your skirts but the blond man keeps you close.

  “What’s your name?” he asks.

  You mutter something incoherent as a guard with a bushy beard grabs your breasts.

  “I’m James,” the blond guard tells you, swatting the bearded man away. James seems to want you to himself.

  Flirt back.

  Try to get away.

  Another guard jostles against you and you let yourself fall onto James’s lap. He catches you, his white teeth sparkling. His eyes are sea foam blue.

  “I apologize for my companions here,” he says. “They tend to get a bit rowdy at gatherings like this.”

  He takes the platter from you and places it on the table behind him. He tries to talk to you but the other guards keep getting in the way, not listening when he tells them to mind their manners.

  “Why don’t we go outside for a bit,” James invites you. He seems eager to get away from the other guards and you are too.

  He takes you out of the hall and out of the castle. The courtyard is quiet, though you can still hear the echoes of the revelry going on inside.

  “I originally wanted to be a knight,” James tells you as you stroll through the castle grounds. “But they’re even worse than the guards. They spend all day locked in the castle training for battles that may never come, and their boredom causes them to take up hobbies of the worst sort.”

  You stop by a fountain in the shape of doves taking flight. Moonlight reflects off the cascade of water.

  James holds your hand. “I know you’re not just a serving girl. You only recently came to the castle, and before that you could have been anyone. Who are you really?”

  The question you always dread.

  He smiles reassuringly. “Right. You wouldn’t tell me, would you? No one chooses to hide as a lowly servant without good reason.”

  “I’m not as special as you think,” you tell him.

  James breaks his gaze, concern clouding his expression. You turn to look and see a tall woman in a blood red gown walking through the courtyard. She passes at a distance, heading for the castle gates.

  “I should go,” James says once the woman is out of sight. He gives you a tender kiss on the cheek and leaves.

  You watch him go as a bell tolls the hour. How long have you been away from your serving duties? You need to get back into the castle before Antoinette notices you are missing.

  As you head towards the main gates you hear someone calling to you. You turn to see a dark elf with half an ear coming towards you, the one you left to rot in the castle dungeons. You turn to run but it’s too late. Eli tackles you into the bushes. You hear a rip as your dress catches on some twigs.

  “You rotten little snake,” 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. “How’d things work out for you in the end? Was it worth selling me out?”

  You try to knee him in the crotch but he dodges your blow.

  “I’m not your enemy,” he says. “I might be a little sore about what you did to me, but I’m willing to forgive you. Just hear me out.”

  You’re tired, and you figure if he wanted to kill you he would have already. You stop struggling.

  He gently removes his hand and gets off you. He helps you sit up.

  “That’s better,” he smiles as if he hadn’t just assaulted you. “Now, where were we? Oh, right. Doria. Things have gotten a lot worse since we last saw each other.”

  You wonder why he’s so hell bent on having you help him. Surely there are other people in Tyven who actually care about all this.

  “They’re in there right now, in the castle, and at any moment they’re going to make their move. Once they’ve got the king in their clutches…”

  The rummages through a pouch on his belt and pulls out an herb cigarette. He lights it with a snap of his fingers.

  You ask him why he expects you to help.

  “You owe me,” he says.

  “And you trust me?” you ask.

  He takes another swig. “Beggars can’t be choosers. You know your way around the castle. And I could kill you for what you did, but I won’t.”

  A bell starts tolling the hour.

  “Shit, we need to go.”

  The elf drags you away from 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.

  Eli leads you through the castle grounds as if well familiar with it. You think he might not need your knowledge of the castle as much as he claimed he did. 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.”

  Eli watches you, waiting for your response. His fingers rest on the hilt of his dagger. You don’t think you have a choice.

  Ask Eli for a smoke first.

  Get to work.

  You throw the platter onto the table and try to get away before any more of the men grab for you. But they aren’t willing to let you go so easily.

  One grabs you by the arms while another lifts up your skirts to take a peek at what’s underneath.

  James tries to stop them but a particularly large half-orc begins to draw his sword. They stare each other down but ultimately James yields.

  “Let’s take ‘er outside,” the half-orc growls and you are lifted off your feet by the guards and taken from the hall. James stays behind.

  None of the other guests spare you or your captors a passing glance even though it is obvious you are being taken against your will. Why would these nobles care about a dumb serving girl anyway? This kind of thing probably happens all the time at feasts like this.

  The guards take you out of the castle to a secluded part of the courtyard behind the guards’ barracks. They toss you to the dirt, jeering at you and tearing at your dress.

  You hear the clatter of belt buckles and see the men close in around you. One of them, the half-orc from before, kneels and pushes your skirts up above your waist. You try to cover yourself but he forces your hands away.

  “Looks like we’ll be her first of the night,” he says. He slides a finger along your pussy. “Though I have to say I don’t feel much like sticking my dick in such a pathetic little cunt.” He pushes his finger inside you and wiggles it around. “No, this bitch isn’t worth
filling, at least not with our cocks.”

  He pushes another finger inside you and spreads your pussy so that all the men can see. He teases you with his other hand, sliding a finger in and out of your gaped opening.

  “Any bets on how far she stretches?” the half-orc says. You quiver as he presses on something sensitive inside you.

  An orc guard offers, “A shy thing like that? No more than the three you’ve got in her. Two silver.”

  “Four fingers,” another shouts.

  “Plus two in her ass,” says another.

  You feel another finger pushing inside you. You bite back a moan, but you can’t mask your arousal.

  The half-orc says, “Kent, you’re out two silver. And she’s getting mighty wet. Anyone wants to make a bet has to do it now.”

  “Three in her ass.”

  “And a bottle in her cunt.”

  The last suggestion is by far the most popular, with the remaining guards throwing in their bet.

  The half-orc closes the bets and puts his attention back on you. He pumps his fingers massaging your g-spot, while his free hand tears your dress down off your breasts. You start to shake as you come around the half-orc’s four fingers, drenching his hand and letting out a weak cry.

  He chuckles and slides a wet finger into your ass. “Eric is out. Who had bets on one in her ass?”

  “It was two,” the bearded guard corrects him.

  You feel another finger slide in, and hope it will all be over soon when they find that you can’t stretch any further.

  The half-orc starts to fuck you with his fingers, sliding one hand in while he pulls the other out. The constant stimulation only makes you hungry for more. You feel your ass relaxing and the half-orc does too. He adds another finger.

  “Nathan’s out too. Who’s left?”

  A few men raise their hands. The ones who suggested the bottle. There is no way something that big will fit inside you, not with your ass filled at the same time.

  The half-orc fucks you to another orgasm, one that leaves you drained and quivering in the dirt. You are thankful when his fingers leave you. It seems your torture is over. That is, until one of the guards produces an empty bottle of ale. He hands it to the half-orc with a grin.

  “If this goes inside her,” the half-orc says, “you split the pot three ways. I’ll throw in four silver of my own so you’ll each get six silver, minus your own bets. If not the eighteen silver goes to Herrick.”

  “Get on with it,” one of the guards shouts.

  You feel the wide end of the ale bottle pressing against your pussy. As aroused as you are, there is no way it is going to fit inside of you.

  “Looks like Herrick’s the winner,” the half-orc says.

  There are grumbles of displeasure among the other three.

  “She isn’t wet enough,” one of them says.

  “I’ll fix that,” another says, pushing the half-orc out of the way. He pulls his cock from his trousers and strokes it vigorously as he paws at your exposed body. He grunts and you feel a spurt of warmth on your pussy. He rubs his cock head against your opening as he continues to cum.

  When he is done he looks towards the others. “It’s not gonna be enough. Get in there and help.”

  The other two take turns prepping you for the bottle, coating you in their cum until your pussy is a slimy mess. Even some of the men who have already lost their bets join in for the fun of it. When the half-orc finally presses the cold glass against your pussy, you fear it will actually fit.

  “You forgot the three in her ass,” one of the guards says. He must be Herrick, the only one hoping the glass bottle doesn’t fit. All the other guards watch with perverted fascination as the half-orc slips three fingers into your ass. You moan weakly, no longer able to control your reactions. You are their plaything.

  The bottle presses your opening, then slides in. The half-orc grins down at you. “I never would have thought,” he says. “But you’re quite a loose little slut.”

  He fucks you slowly with the bottle. You writhe and moan, your hips moving lewdly as if begging to be fucked harder even though you know it would break you. The guards call you all manner of names suggesting the reasons you’re able to fit so much inside you. Only you know how much of it is true.

  The half-orc slides his fingers from your ass and thumbs your clit. You come instantly, overwhelmed with relief that your humiliation is finally over.

  The cum-slick bottle falls from your used pussy as the half-orc goes to collect bets and count out the winnings. No one gives you a second thought. They leave you lying there in the dirt and go back to the party as if nothing happened.

  Get up.

  You shakily get to your feet and fix your tattered dress. You need to get back into the castle before Antoinette notices you are missing.

  As you head towards the main gates you hear someone calling to you. You turn to see a dark elf with half an ear coming towards you, the one you left to rot in the castle dungeons. You turn to run but it’s too late. Eli tackles you into the bushes. You hear a rip as your dress catches on some twigs.

  “You rotten little snake,” he says, pressing his hand over your mouth and straddling you. You kick and struggle weakly, too exhausted from the guards’ assault to fight off the wiry elf.

  He leans in close. His breath smells of herb smoke. “How’d things work out for you in the end? Was it worth selling me out?”

  You quiver in fear, tears prickling your eyes.

  “I don’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice softening. “I might be a little sore about what you did to me, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

  You desperately want to believe him. You stop struggling.

  He gently removes his hand and gets off you. He helps you sit up.

  “Are you okay?” He actually seems concerned for you.

  You nod.

  Eli smiles as if he hadn’t just attacked you. “Good, because I need your help. Things have gotten a lot worse Doria-wise since we last saw each other.”

  You wonder why he would trust you to help him. Surely there are other people in Tyven who actually care about all this.

  “The black mages are in the castle right now, and at any moment they’re going to make their move. Once they’ve got the king in their clutches…”

  The rummages through a pouch on his belt and pulls out an herb cigarette. He lights it with a snap of his fingers.

  You ask him why he expects you to help.

  “You owe me,” he says.

  “And you trust me?” you ask.

  He takes another swig. “Beggars can’t be choosers. You know your way around the castle. And you’re a lot safer with me than on your own.”

  A bell starts tolling the hour.

  “Shit, we need to go.”

  The elf drags you away from 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.

  Eli leads you through the castle grounds as if well familiar with it. You think he might not need your knowledge of the castle as much as he claimed he did. 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 befo
re 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.”

  Eli watches you, waiting for your response. His fingers rest on the hilt of his dagger. You don’t think you have a choice.

  Ask Eli for a smoke first.

  Get to work.

  You go towards the centaur’s table. He smiles at you as you place down the tray.

  “Finally something I can eat,” he says.

  The elven woman groans. “You tell that joke every time. And it’s not funny. Everyone knows centaurs eat meat as much as the rest of us.”

  He winks at you and reaches across the table for a chicken leg.

  You find yourself staring and the elven woman catches you.

  “You haven’t seen many centaurs before, have you?”

  The minotaur leans in to her. “Be kind,” he says. “Not everyone has a chance to travel like us. Look at her, she’s probably never stepped foot out of the castle.”

  You think of the forest, and the grey fog that clouds your memories before that.

  “What a pity,” the centaur says to you. “A beauty like yours is wasted within these walls. Stay with us for a little. Sit, drink.”

  You have no doubt Antoinette would skin you alive if you abandoned your duties to drink with the guests. You look nervously over your shoulder, but none of the castle’s staff seem to pay you any mind. A couple of the serving girls have already fallen into the clutches of the king’s guards and it looks like they won’t be doing much serving for a while either.

  The minotaur whispers something to the elven woman, who giggles. She says to you, “My friend and I were just about to retire to our chambers for a bit. You can join us if you want.”