by Mike Truk
Hugh blinked, looked down at both women by his cock.
Zarja’s eyes gleamed. “Ana, keep at it. I’ll be back.”
And her face sank down, her head moving under Ana’s, her tongue traveling over his balls, teasing them, hot and lurid, even as Ana worked his cock, sucking and licking with evermore confidence.
Zarja’s head lowered further, only her ears visible now, and then Hugh felt her tongue circle his ass, the touch electric, his body convulsing in surprise.
“Pump him as you such,” came Zarja’s command, and Ana did so, closing her fist about his shaft, moving more rapidly now. Hugh clenched the arms of his chair as Zarja’s tongue probed at him, lapped, then teased and wriggled in.
“Fuck,” he groaned, not knowing what to do. Sit up? Protest? Sit back and enjoy it?
Zarja’s nails lightly scored the skin of his thighs. The sensation was intense, and then she rose back up, grinning, to kiss his inner thigh.
“Ana? You want a turn?”
Hugh’s breath stopped.
The disciplus glanced at Zarja, blinked, and then nodded.
“You don’t have to,” said Hugh immediately.
“I want to,” she said simply.
Zarja took his cock into her mouth, sinking slowly down as she went, his head sliding into her throat with ease, her lips stretched around his girth, and Ana’s head lowered, her nose tracing a fiery trail over his balls, until he felt her breath hot and humid against him.
Anastasia the Disciplus is going to lick my ass, he thought with incredulity, the very thought nearly pushing him over the edge. With all her reserve, her elegance, her dignity, her haughty distance, the thought of her down there, nose and lips, about to kiss him, to lick his hole - it was nearly too much.
Then she touched him, the tip of her tongue, her hands clenching his thighs, squeezing hard, around and around, even as Zarja began to swallow, working her throat, constricting his cock, not pulling back, not seeming to need to breathe.
Anastasia lapped, then pressed her lips to him and pushed her tongue inside his ass as deep as she could go.
It was too much. Hugh felt a ball of fire rising up from his core, felt his whole body stiffen, gripped the armchair so hard he thought they’d snap.
“Up,” said Zarja, pulling free and pumping his cock, “Ana, come here!”
The disciplus rose just as Hugh came. Grinning, Zarja pressed her cheek to that of the disciplus as Hugh sat up, cock jerking, and shot streams of glistening come over their faces. Ana jerked back, surprised, but then leaned forward again, blinking furiously, lips parting. Zarja had no such qualms - she opened her mouth wide, pumping him still, not flinching when his cum landed across her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, the lashes of her left eye.
Hugh couldn’t stop. Seeing them both there, eyes gleaming, half laughing, delighted as he came on them, was too much. He groaned as if mortally wounded, came one more time, and then fell back.
“That was,” began Ana, reaching up to touch her wet face. “Unexpected? I - um.”
“Here,” said Zarja. “Let me.”
And she proceeded to clean Ana, licking her tenderly, wiping the cum from her face, lapping it up. Ana closed her eyes, and when she was done, did the same to Zarja, more hesitant, blushing, and finishing with a deep kiss.
“Fuck,” said Hugh, his cock stirring at the sight of them.
Ana’s eyes slid over to him, and then she broke the kiss, to stare in shock at his stiffening cock. “He’s…?”
“Pretty fucking magnificent,” said Zarja with a grin.
“But I’d heard - that men, once they -”
“Not this guy.” Zarja stood smoothly, took Ana by the hand, and raised her up. “Are you ready?”
“For?”
In response, Zarja unbuckled the disciplus’ belt, undid the clasp of her pants, and slid them down to her ankles. Ana’s legs were long and lean. Her underclothes were clearly wet with her arousal, her musky scent immediately filling the air.
“Oh, Ana,” said Zarja, leaning in close. “You are so beautiful.”
“I, well. I don’t know about that,” said Ana, blushing all over again and looking away.
Zarja, as if unveiling a magnificent gift, reached up to pull Ana’s panties down, revealing her vulva as she did so.
Hugh blinked. Ana’s pussy was shaved bald but for a path of hair just over her clit. Her inner labia emerged from between her swollen outer lips, all of it glistening with her arousal.
“Oh Ana,” said Zarja, reaching up to trace the contours of her pussy. “You shave?”
“Oh, kill me now,” said Ana, voice strangled.
“Oh no, not yet. Not yet,” said Zarja, and leaned in to lick her slit with languorous, indulgent delight. Ana startled, the long muscles of her legs tensing, and she sat back against the table as if her knees had suddenly gone weak.
“We’re going to have to explore this in much, much greater detail,” said Zarja, pulling back with reluctance. “But we’ve friends to entertain.”
Ana blinked, grasping the edge of the table on either sides of her hips. “My lord?”
Hugh rose to his feet. He felt as fell and powerful as if entering battle. His cock as rigid and shivering as if he’d not fucked in a year. That small, dark patch of her beckoned him, drew him in. He lifted Ana up so that she sat on the table’s edge, and then hooked an arm under each knee and parted her legs.
“May I, disciplus?” His voice low and hoarse.
He could see her pulse racing in her throat, her face flushed, her pupils dilated with desire. “Yes, my lord.”
Zarja took his cock and guided him in, parting her lips with the fingers of her other hand. Slid the head into her vagina, so tight Hugh could almost not bear it, Zarja’s fingers around the base of his cock to the last, and then he was in, all the way in, and he groaned to feel such ecstasy, Ana’s startled cry rising up to meet his own.
Slowly, carefully, he withdrew, then slid back in. So tight. So fucking creamy and tight, the perfect fit, stretching to accommodate him, her breaths fast and shallow, her hands on her own knees as she constricted her abs to watch, mouth open, curls of dark hair escaping her chignon.
“Is that all right?” he asked, voice little more than a growl.
“It hurts - but in a good way,” whispered Ana.
“Slowly,” said Zarja, climbing up onto the table to lie alongside Ana. Smooth her brow, clear the strands of hair away, and then lean down to kiss her. “Slowly, my lord.”
Hugh did as he was bid. Slid inside with agonizing slowness, and then withdrew, the edge of his cock head rubbing against every ridge and plane in her pussy. Only to slide in, a little deeper each time.
Sweat stood out on Ana’s brow. She closed her eyes and kissed Zarja feverishly as he fucked her, her jaw working, her moans muffled by the lisica’s lips.
Slowly. By Fortuna it was sweet torment. But he kept his rhythm and lost himself in watching the two women kiss, Zarja’s hand stealing under Ana’s coat to cup her breast, pinch her nipple, tease it so that the disciplus gasped again, pressed her hips up to meet him.
Hugh obliged, moved a little faster, feeling unstoppable, a slow-motion avalanche, wanting to split her in two, to make her scream. But working her over instead, pistoning in over and over again.
Zarja pulled back. Shimmied out of her own leather breeches, then climbed up onto the table. Smiled down at Ana, and then swung a leg over her face to straddle her head, facing Hugh as she did so.
Ana froze, unsure, and then opened her mouth, tongue extending to graze Zarja’s honey-colored hair.
Hugh couldn’t help it. He clenched his teeth and began to fuck Ana harder. Zarja slowly lowered herself, biting her full lower lip again. “Yes, there. Oh Ana. Anastasia. Lick me. Lick me from top to bottom. Yes. Oh. Deeper. Can I - rub myself - against your - oh - oh yes. Oh fuck yes.”
Hugh watched, mesmerized, as Zarja began to rub her pussy back and forth over Ana’s face, grinding
it down with ever greater intensity as the disciplus suckled and probed and lapped at her snatch, Ana’s moans rising to meet Zarja’s, who grasped her own full breasts, pressed them tight to her chest, head thrown back, panting now in pleasure, riding Ana as she rode him in turn.
Ana’s cries were growing more desperate, wilder with each thrust, her pussy clenching him, and it was finally more than Hugh could manage. Lowering his hands to her hips, he began to pound her in earnest, felt her expand to take all of him, again and again, her whole body shaking each time he rammed home, so that she was forced to reach up and grasp Zarja’s thighs to steady her mouth against her pussy.
Zarja reached down to fondle herself, lifted her glistening fingers to her lips, licked them, moaned, reached down again to fondle her clit.
Sweat running down his face, Hugh fucked Anastasia, fucked her hard, her screams muffled by Zarja’s cunt, pounded into her long, elegant body, then reached down to rub his thumb in slow circles over her clit.
It was too much. Ana screamed, squeezed her legs about his hips, sank her nails into Zarja’s golden thighs. Who cried out in turn, head thrown back, tail suddenly extending rigid as if shocked, clenching her thighs about Ana’s face, pressing down, fingers nearly blurring as she worked her clit.
Hugh felt Ana’s orgasm hit like a falling boulder, her pussy convulse around his cock, her hips lift right up off the table as her heels pushed down on the edge, straining, yearning, and with a roar of his own he came, deep inside her, pulling her onto him as hard as he could, digging his fingers into her olive flesh, straining, a white sun exploding behind his eyes, the room falling away as stars and lurid flashes of color burst before his eyes.
How long they strained like this, each lost in their own ecstasy, he couldn’t tell, but when he finally sank back down onto his heels and gasped, wiping sweat from his brow to gaze at the other two women, he saw Zarja swing away to sit beside Ana’s head. The lisica was laughing weakly under breath, hand cupping her sex, while Ana turned her head from side to side, blinking, her face wet from chin to brow, tongue licking her lips, trying to catch her breath.
“What…” began Ana, inhaled sharply, tried again. “What… what was that?”
“The beginning,” said Zarja, sinking two fingers into her pussy and slowly working them back and forth between her lips.
Ana propped herself up on her elbows, stomach still clenching and relaxing from the aftershocks of her orgasm, pussy clenching and releasing Hugh’s cock with each one. “The… the what? The beginning?”
“Oh yes,” smiled Zarja. “Hugh, be a dear and carry her to the bed. I want her to suck my tits as you fuck me.”
Hugh lifted Ana up, her legs scissoring around his waist. Her eyes were wide with astonishment. “Again?”
He kissed her. She tasted of Zarja, and the lisica’s taste on the disciplus’ lips was almost more than he could bear. “Oh yes,” he rumbled. “We’re just getting started.”
“Oh no,” moaned Ana as he turned and began striding toward the rear room. “You’ve got to be joking. You can’t… Zarja? Is this a jest? I can’t - I need a moment -”
“Don’t worry.” Zarja slipped off the table and padded along behind him. “You’re in good hands, Ana. We’re going to fuck you like animals. We’re going to make things you never thought you could. And when you’re broken and quivering and unable to draw another breath, we’ll hold you close, hold you tight, and whisper how much we love you.”
Ana moaned, ground her hips against Hugh again as they entered the darkness of the bedroom. “Light, then. Candles. If you’re going to break me, then I want to see it being done.”
Zarja laughed, delighted. “Oh Hugh. Did you hear that?”
Hugh threw Ana down onto the bed. She elbowed her way back then dropped her head upon the pillow. Reached down, almost experimentally, to touch herself, smoldering eyes locked on his own.
“I did,” said Hugh. “But words are cheap.”
“Then get over here,” said Ana, voice growing strong, a smile curving her generous lips. “Come here, my lord, and fucking break me.”
Hugh grinned. Reached up to pull his tunic off and cast it aside.
Ana’s eyes went wide at the sight of him.
“As you command,” he rumbled, and moved onto the bed. “As you command, my lady.”
“Oh fuck,” whispered Ana, reaching up to curl her fingers into his hair. “Call me that again.”
“My lady,” growled Hugh, pressing his face into her neck as she arched her back and moaned. “My lady.”
Chapter Sixteen
“This is Baric and Morov,” said Branka, gesturing at the two woodsmen who lounged at one of the tavern tables. “They’re familiar with the pass and know how to get us there without taking the main road.”
“What I don’t get is, why avoid the road?” asked Baric. He wore his beard in close cut, shovel-blade triangle, his forehead made higher by his receding hairline, his nose a hatchet, his eyes just as sharp. “It’ll triple the amount of time it takes to reach the keep and Fystov Bridge.”
“The trail will be watched,” said Hugh. “I want to enter this meeting with as many cards in my hand as possible. Their not knowing how many we are or how we got there will give us an edge in the negotiations.”
Baric smiled cynically as he turned to his companion, as if sharing a private joke. “Aleksandr. He’s not as all-knowing as you think. Morov and I hunt high up, many times, and we are never seen or troubled. Aleksandr is intelligent, yes, but he is a city man.”
“What are you saying?” asked Hugh. “You won’t take us by another way?”
“No, no, we’ll take you through the woods if you want,” said Baric, raising both hands in a placating manner. “It is just unnecessary. But then, you are not paying me for my opinion, are you?”
“No,” said Morwyn from the corner of the room, her voice all coiled lethality. “We are not.”
“Then we go by deer trails. There will be some parts where we must climb the mountain face itself. The main trail is the main trail for a reason, after all.”
“That’s fine,” said Hugh. “They’re expecting us there by dusk. Will that be a problem?”
“Then we should leave now,” said Baric, rising to his feet. “It is a three-hour journey on the trail. Off it? Nine. We will have to move fast.”
“Not a problem,” said Hugh. He looked to his companions. “This is short notice. Anastasia? Elena? Ready?”
A round of nods.
“What about me?” asked Branka. “You’ll need me if you want Medved.”
Hugh rubbed at his chin. Damn, he really needed a shave. “You stay. You’ve no military experience, and Medved is better used protecting Erro than heading up into the mountain passes.”
Branka’s expression was inscrutable, but she nodded.
“Very well,” said Baric loudly, slapping the tabletop and rising to his feet. “If you are ready, so are we. We’ll swing by our hunting lodge on the way to check if there’s any news from the pass - Luciv was due down this morning. Don’t worry. It’s on the way.”
“I’m not worried,” said Hugh. “Long as you get us to the fort and this Fystov Bridge by dusk.”
Baric bared his teeth. “I’ve been walking these mountains all my life, my lord. If I say I’ll get you there by dusk, you can count on it.”
Morov stood. He was a small, compact man with narrow shoulders, close-cropped hair, and a perpetually bitter expression. “Less bragging, more doing,” he said. “Let’s go.”
It was still early morning, the sun having barely cleared the eastern peaks, and Hugh felt invigorated as they left Erro behind to climb the road a mile before they’d leave it for the lodge. Three days had passed since Subrogation Day, and with Jarmoc’s departure and his newfound intimacy with Anastasia and Zarja, life had become - well - pretty damn good. Better than it had been in years. Days were spent exploring the valley, reviewing tax rolls, meeting locals, eating well and swimming in
the Mandroga pool, and nights… Well. They were up all hours, the three of them, getting to know each other very, very well.
Morwyn, however, had kept her distance. Despite numerous overtures, her professional exterior had remained inviolable.
Ah well. Perhaps today’s mission would provide an opportunity to get through to her.
It was a gorgeous day. The air crisp, the sunlight clear, and the valley was verdant and alive around them.
“This lodge of yours,” asked Hugh, pitching his voice to carry to their scouts just ahead. “An organized brotherhood? Just folks from Erro?”
“Nothing so fancy, my lord,” said Baric, who walked on the far side of the trail by himself. “Just a place for us wilderness-loving types to gather and swap tales. You won’t be impressed.”
“The valley has many woodsmen,” said Morov. “The lodge is where we convene to share information. Bear sightings, washed-out trails, good hunting, signs of inclement weather over the pass. It usually stands empty. With luck we’ll see Luciv there.”
They left the trail at what seemed an arbitrary point; no obvious side path, no clear marker either, strode into the forest, weaving their way between the trunks as they steadily climbed the mountain’s lower slope. They entered a large grove of black balsams, the ground becoming bare but for their carpet of fallen brown needles, their trunks knobbly and protuberant like the grasping fingers of wizened men.
The lodge was on the grove’s far side. An ancient building, it looked to have near sunk into the ground, its walls short, its windows shuttered, its door painted a faded crimson with a white stag’s head emblazoned across the front. The roof was so covered in moss that it appeared more a part of the forest than anything made by man.
“Luciv!” Baric kicked the door open. “You in there?”
A young man with straw-colored hair emerged, his face and hands tanned, his expression sober. He looked a man of the mountains, his gear well-worn and practical, a coil of rope at one hip and a set of throwing axes upon the other. There was a stillness and watchfulness to his gaze that made him seem more a wild creature than a man.
