Rogue's Sultry Women

by Reed James

  You bounced when riding a horse.

  I purred, my face rubbing into the back of Master's leather jerkin. I loved the slick feel on my cheek. My nipples throbbed, kissing the smooth, cured hide. I hugged him tight, my hands sliding down his torso until I discovered his hard bulge. I rubbed him.

  He groaned. “You're frisky this morning.”

  “She's always frisky,” giggled Kora.

  “I am, Mistress,” I purred. “And how was last night?”

  “Amazing,” Kora sighed.

  “She wants to have my kid,” Sven said, sounding proud. “Begged me to breed her.”

  My pussy clenched. “Ooh, I'd love to have your daughter, Sven. She'd be such a cute lamia.”

  “Wouldn't she be half-human?” Sven frowned. “If I'm the father?”

  I giggled.

  Kora shook her head. “Lamia are one of Las's races. Only one sex. They need human men, or other dual-sexed males, to breed with. But their children are always lamia. Always daughters.”

  “Yep,” I nodded. Today, I was so glad the God of Lust masturbated across the world and that his cum birthed my kind. We were definitely the best race. Far better than those loathsome nagas he also spawned.

  The city of Cheyvn passed us by, bustling with morning activity. Laborers leaving homes, bidding wives and children goodbye. I spotted older children over fences weeding vegetable gardens while younger ones ran giggling in play.

  I pictured my own daughter with Sven, her little kitten tail swaying, her ears flicking, as she stalked through a garden on all fours. She'd chase after grasshoppers or little snakes. I used to love finding grass snakes as a child and biting their heads off with savage enthusiasm before the slavers would collect us and put us to work or to train.

  My pussy grew hotter thinking about breeding. Shadow magic imbued me. Only select lamia could breed; those of us chosen to be pleasure slaves had our shadows in our wombs twisted, making us infertile. But I wanted it so badly. My body ached to have a kitten and nurse her.

  “Zanyia,” Master groaned, my hand rubbing harder at his crotch. “You are frisky this morning.”

  “Just excited,” I moaned, grinding my hot pussy into the saddle, my clit throbbing.

  “Did talk of virgins make you wet?” Sven asked.

  I bit my lip. “May I ask a question, Master?”

  “Always,” he said. “You don't even have to ask permission. I'm not going to beat you if you annoy me.”

  My purr rumbled in my throat.

  “I bet you want to know why we're leaving, and why we're catching a faerie with a virgin.”

  “Assuming my brother doesn't deflower her first,” Kora laughed.

  I grinned while nodding. “I was wondering, Master.”

  Sven explained about Ava visiting and our mission to the Forest Lhes. I'd never heard of it, but it sounded so exciting. My hand rubbed harder at his crotch, feeling his dick bulge. The city fell away, the houses growing farther and farther apart until we were passing the fields around the town, new growth sprouting in tilled and furrowed soil.

  Such rich and dark and fertile soil.

  “Zanyia,” he groaned again. “You have to stop rubbing my pants.”

  “But you're so hard, Master,” I purred. “Elli is right. You can't ride in this state.” My fingers found the laces of the leather britches, deftly pulling them.

  “Zanyia!” he groaned as I pulled out his cock, stroking it as we rode down the highway that led west out of Cheyvn. “You can't do this here.”

  “Why not?” I asked, stroking up and down his thick cock. “You fucked those barmaids in the middle of the inn. And I ate Mistress's pussy at the same time.”

  “Yeah, in the Buxom Lass. The prince's highway is not a common room.”

  “I don't understand,” I said, feeling so mischievous right now. My hand stroked faster.

  “You are not an obedient sex slave,” he groaned.

  “I am, too!” I protested, his precum flowing. “I'm serving my Master right now, reacting to his commands.”

  “I didn't order you to give me a handjob,” he groaned.

  “Your body did. Just by being hard, your cock ordered me to satiate it.”

  Kora giggled. “She's got you there.”

  “I'm only hard because you were rubbing at my crotch. Stop giving me a handjob, Zanyia.”

  “Yes, Master,” I purred. “I won't pleasure you with my hand.”

  He grunted in shock and his horse neighed as I scrambled around his body. I gripped his clothing, climbing in front of him. I faced him and sat before him on the saddle. My hand grabbing his dick, holding it just right. I slammed my pussy down on his cock and...

  Yelped in pain.

  The saddle horn popped into my asshole. The thick knob stretched out my sphincter. It hurt so bad. My pussy clenched down on his dick as I whimpered in exquisite pain. My asshole burned in agony, the saddle horn shifting in me as the horse kept trotting down the road.

  I loved it.

  Zizthithana's slavers taught me to find pleasure in pain, twisting my body so agony bled into ecstasy. They found other ways to punish us then pain.

  Darkness.

  I pushed thoughts of the punishment kennels out of my mind as I locked my thighs about Master's waist, my body quivering, working his cock and the saddle horn in and out of my holes. Pleasure met pain, swirling, mixing, making me yowl in delight.

  “Zanyia,” he grunted, arms around me. “Las's cum, you are a wild one.”

  “Yes, she is,” Mistress said, her voice breathy. “Brother mine, I'm in awe.”

  I just purred, the sensations rippling through me. The horse's gait shifted my body, working both the thick dick and bulbous saddle horn in and out of my holes. I felt like I wore a butt plug, but one shaped like a round knob instead of a cone. I shuddered, my bowels gripping it as my pussy grew hotter and hotter around Master's cock.

  He groaned, face twisting in pleasure as my hot cunt slid on his dick. I used my thighs wrapped about his waist to fuck him. I pushed and pulled, working both the dick and the saddle horn in and out of my holes, churning rapture and agony through me.

  “Gods,” I yowled. “Gods, Master, I love serving you!”

  “Not going to order her to stop fucking you?” Kora asked, still sounding amused. “Eh, brother mine?”

  “Gods, no,” Sven groaned, his voice twisting with ecstasy. “You naughty lamia, work that slutty cunt on my dick.”

  “Yes, Master,” I whimpered.

  I obeyed, fucking my master with all my effort, churning my pussy up and down his dick while the saddle horn pushed into my bowels. The bulbous end spread wide my bowels, making me quiver and gasp, my cunt growing juicier and juicier on his cock.

  I loved it. Rapture shuddered through me. Pleasure and pain whirled, mixed, heated up my cunt. I quivered, moaning and gasping my rapture for all the passing farmers to hear. I wanted them to watch me fuck my Master. Watch me serve him.

  I wanted to make them wish they had a cute, lamian sex slave.

  “Thank you Las for spewing your seed across the world and spawning her race,” Master groaned.

  “Yes, yes, thank you, Las!” I squealed. “Las's yummy cum, I love pleasing you, Master!”

  The horse neighed, his mane rubbing on my back. My tail brushed his fur as I writhed and gasped. My bowels clenched on the saddle horn as my orgasm built swiftly in me, spurred by the mix of agony and rapture. My pussy squeezed down so hard on Master's cock.

  He grunted, face twisting with rapture. I knew that look. I worked my hips faster and faster, wanting Master's cum to flood me. My ears twitched. The purr rumbled through my throat as dizzying waves of agony and pleasure washed through me, mixing, stimulating me.

  “Cum in me, Master,” I yowled. “Breed your lamia slave. Plant a little kitten in my belly! Your cute daughter!”

  My breasts heaved, sweat dribbling down my naked flesh. I groaned and gasped, my nipples throbbing, brushing his leather je
rkin as I clung to him. My arms tightened about his neck as he grunted, loving my words.

  “Breed your lamian slave, Master!”

  “Gods damn, both of you!” he groaned. “I want to breed you all!”

  His cum fired into my pussy. I shuddered, the heat splashing into my depths, spilling through me. I embraced the fantasy of being bred by him, shuddering, my pussy milking his dick. The pleasure spilled through me. I gasped and heaved, my bowels clenching on the painful saddle horn, embracing the delicious ache.

  And came.

  My pussy convulsed about his dick. I milked his cock as the rapture swept through my body, drowning out the burning pain in my bowels. I yowled, my tawny hair sweeping about my back. My ears twitched as more and more of his seed filled me.

  I quivered, standing on the pinnacle of pleasure.

  “Master,” I yowled.

  “My cute lamia,” he groaned.

  I beamed, clinging to him. “Yours!”

  Tears fell down my cheeks. Such joy burst through me. He would protect me, love me, dominate me. He'd never be cruel to me. He'd never let the nagas, that horrid Zizthithana, have me again. They'd never lock me in suffocating darkness. I trembled against him, licking at his cheek, tasting his salty skin.

  Loving him.

  ~ * ~

  Zizthithana, Istandar of Hizzithya – Despeir Foothills, Kivoneth Princedom, The Strifelands of Zeutch

  I slithered through the remains of the camp, the smell of death in the air. The animals had feasted on the corpses, wolves ripping apart my dead soldiers. My warleader, Therek, lay half-torn apart in the ruins of his tent, most of the flesh devoured from his face.

  My tongue flicked out, tasting sweet death.

  The anger surged through me, warming my scales. Someone had killed my warleader. “Who did this? Did Prince Meinard's men kill them?”

  “No, dread Istandar,” Warleader Gorth'in said, striding into the camp from the hilly woods around it. “I found another two fallen to their deaths at the base of a cliff. They were lured over the edge chasing something.”

  “What?” I faced my warleader, a brutal man, muscled and burly, his hair a shaggy mess falling down about a scarred face, nose bent. Scars adorned his body. He didn't wear the black plate like most warleaders, instead armoring himself in the leather hide of an ogre he slew himself. Barehanded. He had a massive sword slung over his shoulder. A normal man would need both hands to wield the great blade. He didn't. His personal lamia cowered behind him, her naked body decorated with a delicious array of bruises, some old and sickly yellow, others deep purple.

  “This wasn't a patrol,” Gorth'in said.

  My serpent body coiled about itself, dry scales rasping together. My bright-violet hair shifted on my naked shoulders as I fixed my eyes on him. “You are certain?”

  “I am, dread mistress. A single warrior with a spellcaster in support. Probably a priest. I smell illusions around here.”

  A cold dread swirled through my stomach. My client would not be happy about this. “They must be found. Killed. Track them. You will not return to my court until you are finished!”

  His smile grew. “Your will, dread mistress.”

  Shadows rippled around him, dancing, swaying. He surged them out to the ruined tent. I smiled, delighting in his use of my gift. Serpents lived on the verge of light and darkness, needing both to survive. Shadows were ours, and they could be manipulated.

  From the tent, a shadow walked, stretched out on the ground, stepping in the path of the warrior who killed Therek and ruined my plans. The footsteps led towards the despoiled slave wagon, looting wealth that I needed.

  “I want both their skins,” I hissed. “I need a new rug for my bedchamber.”

  Gorth'in laughed, marching after the shadow trail alone. He didn't need aid. He was an army unto himself. He wouldn't fail me. I rubbed my scales, savoring the rasping sound of my pleasure.

  I could still salvage this debacle.

  Chapter Sixteen: Patrol

  Zanyia – The Princedom of Kivoneth, The Strifelands of Zeutch

  My tail swished back and forth as I rubbed my cheek into Master's leather jerkin. I loved the smell of leather, the feel of the smooth yet rough material on my skin. I shivered, squirming on the saddle, the harder leather rubbing on my juicy pussy—it was always juicy—while my little nipples tingled against his back. A purr rumbled from my throat.

  Such simple joy filled me as we rode through the spring-green fields around the city of Echur. Farmers worked on their planting, the air smelling so fresh and wonderful, even with the sour tang of the manure fertilizing crops. It was just... freer. Liberated.

  I was a slave, and yet I wasn't. I could leave Master. I could go where I wanted. I wouldn't. I wanted to be with him. He saved me. I loved him so much. Which only made me squirm more, savoring the caress of leather on my body.

  How did I get so lucky? Why me out of all the other lamia born in subjugation on the other side of the Despeir Mountains? Did Las lust for me more than my sisters? Was the God of Lust staring down at my cute ass right now wanting to fuck me like Master did?

  Did he guide this hunky man to me?

  My arms tightened about his waist, fingernails scratching at the front of his jerkin. He chatted with his sister, Kora, as they rode. I let the words wash over me, just enjoying this moment, my naughty cunt growing hotter and hotter as the horse's gait shifted me on the hard saddle.

  My clit loved it.

  I turned my head, pressing my nose into the jerkin and getting a deep whiff of leather before I rubbed my left cheek against it, adding my own musk to Master's scent. My purrs grew louder and louder, my hips squirming more.

  “Someone's getting horny,” Mistress said.

  “I think she is, sister dear,” laughed Sven, his body's shaking making my nipples tingle more as they slid across his leather jerkin. “Do you have a hot pussy, my cute lamia?”

  “Uh-huh, Master,” I sighed, my juices coating the saddle, making my seat sticky. I loved it. My tail swished faster. “I could crawl around you and fuck your cock.”

  I liked doing that. Fucking my Master while we rode, his saddle horn plunging into my asshole and his cock filling my pussy, was so hot. It made me tremble. It made me gasp and moan and cum so hard while everyone watched. I loved it when people—

  The faint thud of hooves and jingle of metal reached my ears. The sound of armor. Of warriors.

  A cold surge shot through me. My tail went stiff, my triangular ears, thrusting out of my tawny hair, twitched, searching for the source of the sound. They turned behind me, focusing on the sound. Soldiers approached from our rear.

  I whipped my head around, hissing at the sight of six armored men trotting up from the rear, closing on us. The leader, clad in full plate armor covered with a surcoat of chequered blue and gray with a red griffin in the center, led five men in chainmail, wearing livery of the same pattern.

  “Master,” I hissed in alarm, my fingernails turning into full claws. They scratched at his leather jerkin. “Behind us.”

  Sven twisted in the saddle. “Las's putrid cum,” he snarled as I bristled. “Kivoneth soldiers.”

  “Are they hunting us, brother mine?” Kora asked. She flashed her step-brother a concerned look. “Did someone recognize us in a flyer?”

  “Maybe or maybe not.” Master's voice sounded calm, deep, reassuring. “They could be a patrol hunting slavers.”

  “This far from the mountains?” Kora asked. “And do those patrols even do anything?”

  I hissed again. What a horrid man this Prince Meinard who ruled the lands we rode through was. He killed Master and Mistress's family, allowed the evil Zizthithana to send her raiding parties into his lands to take his own people as slaves, and used foul magics to conquer his neighbors. It brought me joy to help oppose him on the mission we rode to.

  “Do we fight?” I demanded, bristling. “I have sharp teeth and claws.”

  “Which aren't much good aga
inst such armored foes,” Sven said. “No, we stay calm. We're simple travelers heading to Echur. A radiant of Rithi spreading joy with the mercenary she hired to keep watch. They won't care about us.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said, but I didn't relax as the horses came closer and closer, their faster pace narrowing the distance between us.

  ~ * ~

  Sven Falk

  A tension tightened the limbs of my body, coiling like the springs in a clockmaker's contraption. I itched to draw a short sword or have a throwing dagger ready. To even surprise them with a bolt fired from my hand crossbow.

  But five men... No need to take risks without need.

  I glanced at my sister. She rode looking ahead, a bored expression on her face. Though neither drama or comedy were among the arts she perfected, she still had the skill to perform on any stage. Nothing about her gave away any worry.

  Not like Zanyia as she clung to me. The lamia had surprising strength in those slender limbs.

  The patrol slowed, their armor jangling louder. The leader came abreast of me, staring at me through the slits in his helm's visor. I tried not to sneer at Prince Meinard's symbol on his surcoat, hating the red, rampant griffin of Kivoneth.

  “Well met, captain,” I said, giving a friendly nod. “It heartens me to see good Prince Meinard's soldiers keeping the road safe from banditry.”

  The captain did not give an answer, eyes flicking up and down us. I sucked in a deep breath. Did he know our faces? The wanted posters contained bad renderings of our likeness. I could hardly recognize my step-sister's face in them, and I'd studied her beauty intently.

  “Who are you, travelers, to ride upon the prince's road?” the captain said after a moment, the words ringing hollow from his helmet.

  “I am Hans, escorting a radiance of Rithi to her performance at the Amphitheater in the noble city of Echur.” I motioned to my sister. “Radiance Heidi has promised to sing a song of such beauty, the entire Princedom shall weep at its lamentation.”

  “These are such troubled times,” my sister added, her words tinged with sadness, sorrow painted upon her face. “Though our noble Prince Meinard protects Kivoneth from the Strife, it's horrors are still remembered and should not be forgotten.”