by Rowan Bree
You can see lights on the dock, people running towards you. It looks like some fisherman heard your cries after all. You fight to get free from the mass just enough to call to them. You can feel it shifting, undulating. It slides off the edge of the dock taking you down with it.
The cold water hits you like a brick and the wind is knocked from your lungs. You struggle to hold your breath, but the gelatinous mass only squeezes you tighter, taking what little air is left out of your lungs. Its nubs continue to massage you as it sinks deeper, maddeningly teasing you. Your arousal builds as your brain loses oxygen. After everything, is this how you are going to die? The cold starts to spread to your bones, your heart. Only one place is still warm between your legs. You open your mouth as you come, your lungs filling with water. The salty taste of the sea is the last thing you know.
Epilogue.
You take the decanter and go around the room refilling glasses, letting the guests paw at you but not going out of your way to encourage them. Some of the other slaves are a bit more brazen. The party starts to take on the air of a brothel.
A portly man with a mustache grabs you from behind. He rubs your pussy with his ring-clad fingers, laughing when you yelp.
You pull away from him, careful not to let any wine spill from the decanter, only to find yourself in the arms of a sly-looking half-elf dressed all in silks. The shine in his eyes betrays his drunkenness.
He presses you up against the wall and takes the decanter from your hand. “You think you can hide with this?” He tips the decanter over onto your breasts. The steady trickle of cold wine makes your nipples hard and your linen dress stained red.
The elf tosses the empty decanter aside. He pulls down your dress to suck on a wine-covered breast. You can feel the heat rising within you as his tongue flicks your nipple.
Once your breasts are clean of wine, the elf lets you go. You fix your dress and rejoin the crowd feeling flustered. Your wine-soaked dress clings tight to your body. You think you might need a break from all the attention.
As you cross the room to ask the guards if there is a place you can clean yourself up, you notice a couple of guests sneaking off into a side room. You follow them and peek through the doorway.
Laughter and happy voices float out to where you are as naked men and women drink, eat, and play with each other, their fine clothes strewn carelessly about the floor. It looks like quite a good time.
Go in.
Leave.
You take the decanter and go around the room refilling glasses, letting the guests paw at you but not going out of your way to encourage them. Some of the other slaves are a bit more brazen. The party starts to take on the air of a brothel.
A portly man with a mustache grabs you from behind. He rubs your pussy with his ring-clad fingers, laughing when you yelp.
You pull away from him, careful not to let any wine spill from the decanter, only to find yourself in the arms of a sly-looking half-elf dressed all in silks. The shine in his eyes betrays his drunkenness.
He presses you up against the wall and takes the decanter from your hand. “You think you can hide with this?” He tips the decanter over onto your breasts. The steady trickle of cold wine makes your nipples hard and your linen dress stained red.
The elf tosses the empty decanter aside. He pulls down your dress to suck on a wine-covered breast. You can feel the heat rising within you as his tongue flicks your nipple.
Once your breasts are clean of wine, the elf lets you go. You fix your dress and rejoin the crowd feeling flustered. Your wine-soaked dress clings tight to your body. You think you might need a break from all the attention.
As you cross the room to ask the guards if there is a place you can clean yourself up, you notice a couple of guests sneaking off into a side room. You follow them and peek through the doorway.
Laughter and happy voices float out to where you are as naked men and women drink, eat, and play with each other, their fine clothes strewn carelessly about the floor. It looks like quite a good time.
Go in.
Leave.
The curly-haired man piques your interest. You go to him.
“It’s funny, isn’t it,” he says pulling you towards him. “All those nobles in one room. If something were to happen, like a fire or a sudden earthquake we’d lose half the kingdom’s rulers in one fell swoop.”
His eyes twinkle as he thinks about the chaos of a ruler-less kingdom. You think you might want to watch yourself around him. He probably has more than a few screws loose. But there is no denying his easy charm.
“I’m Prince Sy of Ollvyn,” he introduces himself. He spins you around, wrapping his arms around your waist. “And who are you?”
You tell him you’re no one, just a slave brought here for the feast.
“That’s no fun,” he pouts. “Tonight you can be anyone. Even if it’s just for pretend.”
The prince bites your ear, growling. You can feel his hard cock in his trousers.
“I’ll show you who I am,” he says.
He takes a seat, pulling you down on to his lap. He lifts up your dress and hooks your legs around the outside of his.
You feel self-conscious being so exposed in public but no one seems to care. That’s what you’re here for, after all.
“There’s a reason you came over here, isn’t there?” He tickles you through your panties. “You know my reputation.”
The fabric becomes damp under his touch. A portly man with a large moustache looks your way and the prince winks at him. He shuffles away without a second glance.
The prince continues to tease you, tickling that sensitive place just below your clit. You start to get the urge to go to the bathroom. You try to shift so that his fingers don’t touch you there. But he only holds you tighter. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“It’s all right,” he murmurs in your ear. “You won’t be the first person who’s pissed themselves tonight. You can’t help it. You lost control. It happens to the best of us.”
You fight with all your might against the growing urgency. You beg him to let you go.
“The sooner you piss the sooner we can move on to even more fun things.”
Your panties cling to your pussy. The urge to wet yourself is maddening. You can also feel yourself about to come. But you know one can’t happen without the other.
Keep holding it.
Humiliate yourself.
The curly-haired man piques your interest. You go to him.
“It’s funny, isn’t it,” he says pulling you towards him. “All those nobles in one room. If something were to happen, like a fire or a sudden earthquake we’d lose half the kingdom’s rulers in one fell swoop.”
His eyes twinkle as he thinks about the chaos of a ruler-less kingdom. You think you might want to watch yourself around him. He probably has more than a few screws loose. But there is no denying his easy charm.
“I’m Prince Sy of Ollvyn,” he introduces himself. He spins you around, wrapping his arms around your waist. “And who are you?”
You tell him you’re no one, just a slave brought here for the feast.
“That’s no fun,” he pouts. “Tonight you can be anyone. Even if it’s just for pretend.”
The prince bites your ear, growling. You can feel his hard cock in his trousers.
“I’ll show you who I am,” he says.
He takes a seat, pulling you down on to his lap. He lifts up your dress and hooks your legs around the outside of his.
You feel self-conscious being so exposed in public but no one seems to care. That’s what you’re here for, after all.
“There’s a reason you came over here, isn’t there?” He tickles you through your panties. “You know my reputation.”
The fabric becomes damp under his touch. A portly man with a large moustache looks your way and the prince winks at him. He shuffles away without a second glance.
The prince continues to
tease you, tickling that sensitive place just below your clit. You start to get the urge to go to the bathroom. You try to shift so that his fingers don’t touch you there. But he only holds you tighter. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“It’s all right,” he murmurs in your ear. “You won’t be the first person who’s pissed themselves tonight. You can’t help it. You lost control. It happens to the best of us.”
You fight with all your might against the growing urgency. You beg him to let you go.
“The sooner you piss the sooner we can move on to even more fun things.”
Your panties cling to your pussy. The urge to wet yourself is maddening. You can also feel yourself about to come. But you know one can’t happen without the other.
Keep holding it.
Humiliate yourself.
You drape your arms across Hawke’s chest and he pulls you down onto his lap. His strong arms feel good around you.
“Did you rest?” you ask him.
“I’ll rest when we make land,” he replies.
You watch the sun rise over the calm sea. He tells you a bit about the sea tribes, how they are scattered across islands and coastal regions and how he is constantly traveling between them.
“Is the place we’re going your home?” you ask.
“My ship is my home. Where we’re going is just the closest of our islands. A place to rest and wait for word from the capital.”
You gently stroke his chest letting your mind wander to what it would feel like pressed against your own naked breast, your sweat making your bodies stick.
“You are far away,” Hawke says.
You look up at him. He sees the desire in your eyes. You don’t even have to tell him what you were thinking of.
He kisses you hard and you kiss him back with equal passion. Lips still locked you straddle him. His hands cup your breasts.
“We’ll be there soon,” he says between kisses. “I need to wake the men.”
“Then we’ll be quick,” you reply nudging his trousers down.
“The island’s lookouts will see us.”
“Let them,” you say, taking him inside you.
Hawke bites your neck and grinds against you. It is like you’ve awoken a beast inside of him. His hands run up and down your arched back, his fingertips pressing into your soft skin. His skin smells like salt and sand. There is urgency in his movements, in yours. You are desperate to taste all of him in the short time you have.
He moans loudly in your ear and you bite his shoulder. You think even with all the time in the world you would not have lasted long.
“We’re here,” Hawke says.
You look over your shoulder and can see land ahead. Hawke stands. You watch as the island grows closer. Sparse pines grow across it and there are hills deeper inland, though the whole island looks small enough to fit inside the walls of Tyven. There is a cluster of log houses near the shore. You can see boats and people. Everything looks normal. No monsters.
The men help Hawke steer the ship into port. Already there are people waiting there to greet you, light skinned with reddish hair. They speak like many of the dock workers in Tyven, a bit growly but polite and easy to understand.
Hawke shakes the hand of a bearded man of about thirty. His grey eyes are like the fog over a sea spray of freckles on his cheeks.
“You didn’t spare a minute getting back here, did you?” he says. “What news from the king?”
Hawke replies. “We had to flee the capital. It was overrun by monsters. I fear dark magic has consumed Tyven. We’ll need to stay here to await any news that might come.”
You can see fear in the man’s eyes. “You can stay as long as you need.”
Epilogue.
You kiss the sea chief. His hands fall from the collar to your body. He kisses you hard and you kiss him back with equal passion. Lips still locked you push him down and straddle him. His hands cup your breasts.
You look into his eyes. He sees the desire there. You don’t even have to tell him what you were thinking of.
“We’ll be there soon,” he says between kisses. “I need to wake the men.”
“Then we’ll be quick,” you reply nudging his trousers down.
“The island’s lookouts will see us.”
“Let them,” you say, taking him inside you.
Hawke bites your neck and grinds against you. It is like you’ve awoken a beast inside of him. His hands run up and down your arched back, his fingertips pressing into your soft skin. His skin smells like salt and sand. There is urgency in his movements, in yours. You are desperate to taste all of him in the short time you have.
He moans loudly in your ear and you bite his shoulder. You think even with all the time in the world you would not have lasted long.
“We’re here,” Hawke says.
You look over your shoulder and can see land ahead. Hawke stands. You watch as the island grows closer. Sparse pines grow across it and there are hills deeper inland, though the whole island looks small enough to fit inside the walls of Tyven. There is a cluster of log houses near the shore. You can see boats and people. Everything looks normal. No monsters.
The men help Hawke steer the ship into port. Already there are people waiting there to greet you, light skinned with reddish hair. They speak like many of the dock workers in Tyven, a bit growly but polite and easy to understand.
Hawke shakes the hand of a bearded man of about thirty. His grey eyes are like the fog over a sea spray of freckles on his cheeks.
“You didn’t spare a minute getting back here, did you?” he says. “What news from the king?”
Hawke replies. “We had to flee the capital. It was overrun by monsters. I fear dark magic has consumed Tyven. We’ll need to stay here to await any news that might come.”
You can see fear in the man’s eyes. “You can stay as long as you need.”
Epilogue.
You take a seat next to Hawke, watching the sun rise over the calm sea. You ask him if he’s slept at all.
He shakes his head. “I’ll sleep once we make landfall. We’ll be there soon.”
He tells you a bit about the sea tribes, how they are scattered across islands and coastal regions and how he is constantly traveling between them.
“Is the place we’re going your home?” you ask.
“My ship is my home. Where we’re going is just the closest of our islands. A place to rest and wait for word from the capital.”
You can see land ahead. Hawke stands. You watch as the island grows closer. Sparse pines grow across it and there are hills deeper inland, though the whole island looks small enough to fit inside the walls of Tyven. There is a cluster of log houses near the shore. You can see boats and people. Everything looks normal. No monsters.
The men help Hawke steer the ship into port. Already there are people waiting there to greet you, light skinned with reddish hair. They speak like many of the dock workers in Tyven, a bit growly but polite and easy to understand.
Hawke shakes the hand of a bearded man of about thirty. His grey eyes are like the fog over a sea spray of freckles on his cheeks.
“You didn’t spare a minute getting back here, did you?” he says. “What news from the king?”
Hawke replies. “We had to flee the capital. It was overrun by monsters. I fear dark magic has consumed Tyven. We’ll need to stay here to await any news that might come.”
You can see fear in the man’s eyes. “You can stay as long as you need.
Epilogue.
You hear a grating sound and then relief as the heavy iron is removed from your neck. Hawke hurls the collar into the sea and sits back down.
You thank him for releasing you.
“No human should have a price,” he says.
You take a seat next to Hawke, watching the sun rise over the calm sea. You ask him if he’s slept at all.
He shakes his head. “I’ll sleep once we make land
fall. We’ll be there soon.”
He tells you a bit about the sea tribes, how they are scattered across islands and coastal regions and how he is constantly traveling between them.
“Is the place we’re going your home?” you ask.
“My ship is my home. Where we’re going is just the closest of our islands. A place to rest and wait for word from the capital.”
You can see land ahead. Hawke stands. You watch as the island grows closer. Sparse pines grow across it and there are hills deeper inland, though the whole island looks small enough to fit inside the walls of Tyven. There is a cluster of log houses near the shore. You can see boats and people. Everything looks normal. No monsters.
The men help Hawke steer the ship into port. Already there are people waiting there to greet you, light skinned with reddish hair. They speak like many of the dock workers in Tyven, a bit growly but polite and easy to understand.
Hawke shakes the hand of a bearded man of about thirty. His grey eyes are like the fog over a sea spray of freckles on his cheeks.
“You didn’t spare a minute getting back here, did you?” he says. “What news from the king?”
Hawke replies. “We had to flee the capital. It was overrun by monsters. I fear dark magic has consumed Tyven. We’ll need to stay here to await any news that might come.”
You can see fear in the man’s eyes. “You can stay as long as you need.”
Epilogue.
You try as hard as you can to hold it. Your muscles tense and sweat beads your skin. You have never been so desperate to come in your whole life, but you mustn’t if you want to keep from humiliating yourself.
