by J. E.
Her eyes rose to him as her plush lips parted, her tongue moving out already to taste their combined juices. It was so sweet, so dirty as he maneuvered her head, forcing her to do something she already wanted to do very badly.
Loren watched her with a bright sparkle in his amber eyes, his gaze intense as he stared. “That’s it,” he growled, and despite just cumming she felt the thick organ twitch with excitement still. He might have been a wastrel lord, but he had stamina and virility, she realized. “When I’m Lord Faro,” he began, pausing to lick his lips, “I shall reward you, my elven slut.”
Her tongue swirled around his cock as if in thanks and gratitude, and her dark lashes descended over her gaze as her moan went through his organ. To think of how many women he’d fucked, how many he could have, it made her blood pulse and her head feel faint. She wanted his lust, his passion, and for the briefest moments she almost felt a pang of jealousy.
He purposely plucked his organ from her mouth and slapped that thick shaft against her face. “Until then... I’ll have my fun,” and with such a sadistic grin he slid down over her form. The alcohol seemed to have done nothing to diminish his libido, for he flipped her over, tugged her to the edge of the bed and parted her ass cheeks as he lined up his cock tip with her anal pucker, prodding it without hesitation.
She gasped, and Anjasa was, truly, shocked. Surprised at how hard he still was, by how forceful he’d become, but her bottom presented to him eagerly all the same. “Be careful!” she pleaded, knowing full well it’d be fruitless. He’d hurt her, but it’d be in the best way possible.
With his cock.
Clutching her long dark strands as if it they were a reign and her, his beast of burden, he yanked , tugging her scalp as he forced himself inside. “C’mon elf slut,” he grunted as his shaft sank agonizingly slowly into her tight rear. “Don’t be like that. You were so much fun,” he taunted, and she knew she’d found a dark one in that formerly melancholy lord.
She whimpered his named, her body prickling with pain and intense sensations that one could never get outside of the bedroom. She’d tried to find drugs, devices, contraptions, anything that could compare, but it was impossible.
The feel of a powerful man dominating her was entirely unique and did things to her that nothing else could.
Loren had only gotten a few inches inside her, but he was already anxiously tugging and pushing his cock into her, eager for the sweet friction of that tight hole as he yanked her hair. “C’mon,” he muttered, and slapped a hand against her cheek. He stared down at the sight of her tan ass being crammed full of his pink dick, her puffy pussy lips below drooling his pearly white seed, still so fresh.
Gasping, she tried to push against him, to meet the pain he was causing with her own as he shoved that too big cock into her too small hole. It burned and seared through her and she wanted to claw herself away from him, but her body needed the pain. Her clit throbbed needfully and she cried louder, her breaths coming on hard and fast.
The praise and coaxing mixed with the alcohol had brought out the animal in him, and he was pumping her insistently. The light slap of his groin striking her plush ass cheeks growing as he grunted with the tug of her tacky inner walls clinging to his manhood. With so little lubrication it was pure force driving his motions.
She’d picked well. Seen through the sad outer shell and managed to pick a big dick with a sadistic streak.
She couldn’t be more grateful, even as her toes curled and her fingers dug into the plush blankets. “Fuck!” The word bounced off the walls and she screamed with gurgled pleasure and pain. “Fuck fuck fuck,” she coaxed herself through, taking more and more of that thick member into her tight canal. It was like a mantra, a way of working herself to take it all.
The sounds of his grunts and curses were lost in the volume of her own shouts, but despite his enjoyment of her, she knew it wouldn’t be short. He’d only just came, and the slow pace of thrusts in her tautly stretched anal canal would bring him to a slow boil.
So by the time he was panting over her, his dick swelling with impending release, she was a ragged mess of having been fucked and used for so long. He quaked and shook, struck her ass with his palm again. “Gonna cum,” he managed hoarsely.
Her body prickled with sensation, her mouth hung open as she panted and cried into the bedroom air. Her mind was hazy, and no more were there thoughts of manipulation. All there was, was his cock and her body and the things he could do to her, and it was more than enough.
With a violent shudder he came inside her. His thick cock spasmed wildly as it disgorged its seed, filling both her ass and cunt with the rich pearly white essence. He was so noisome in the process, his mouth hung open as he gasped and groaned. “Fuck... yes! Take it,” he managed with a bit of a drunken slur, right up until he was drained dry and he slumped onto her back panting.
Her dress was wrapped around her waist like a belt, and she felt like her body was on fire. She hadn’t even realized that tears had wetted the blanket beneath her, and she moaned appreciatively as his weight fell against hers.
He didn’t stir again though, his heavy, much larger—and stronger—form lay atop her. His face buried in her dark hair as their sweaty, exhausted bodies lay prone together.
Chapter 2
The little cafe was not in the nicer side of town. In fact it sat perched on the very edge of the old city itself, and from where Anjasa sat at the outdoor table she could look through the dilapidated wall onto the slums beyond.
Broken down by age and lack of care more than the warfare it was meant to guard against, the old wall gave way to a view of poorly constructed wood homes and shanties beyond. The cobblestone of the city’s roadways melting into hard packed dirt and filth that the impoverished commoners there trod upon daily.
So even though the outdoor cafe lingered so near to squalor, Anjasa couldn’t help but feel she still sat in luxury looking upon that scene.
“Cousin Zarach lives nearby,” murmured the young, hung over noble beside her, his voice rich with distaste. Whether at the very thought of his cousin, who’d ‘stolen’ his inheritance, or at the low born neighbourhood in which he lived in, so near to the slums, Anjasa couldn’t tell. Probably both.
“No wonder he’s trying to bilk your father for all he’s worth,” she sneered as she forced a smile to her lips. “Well, no matter. You have far more persistence and worth than he.” Her fingertips found his jaw and stroked him there, feeling his pampered flesh. “We won’t tarry long.”
The handsome young noble still wore his fancy suit from the night before, though it had lost a bit of its splendor after their night together drinking. The stubble she felt beneath her fingertips added to his looks. If you could get rid of the sullen, hung over expression on his face as he sipped the brown brew, she could even appreciate it as quite rugged.
“We don’t have much time,” he grumbled, eyes squinted from the bright morning light. Then with a deep inhale she could sense his feelings of frustration rise again. “What are we even doing here?” he moaned. “We can’t very well steal the thing from him. Living here—of all places—he’s probably more prepared for thievery than anyone.”
“Common thieves, dear. I’m not common. You just sip your drink and point me in the right direction. I’ll check things out and tell you what I think,” she gazed at him seductively. She was still looking bright and vibrant despite their debauchery and drinking from the night before. Her hair had taken on a sexy slept in look, and her skin was glowing with her excitement even though her dress was far too salacious for such an early hour.
Furrowing his brow, the handsome young noble gave her a quizzical look, though it only lasted for a heartbeat. He was far too sore and sour from his state of post inebriation to do more than that. “Just over there,” he said, and he gestured off down the street.
The place didn’t take long for her to pick out from the rows of homes. It was larger than the others, but more than that it was gated and
barred with wrought iron metal bars and spikes. From the gates to the windows it was all barred up and shut off. It was obvious that the owners possessed great wealth for the part of town they resided in, for who else would go through such trouble of protecting a home along the edge of the Stink Streets, as they were colloquially named.
She had to hold back a laugh as her fingertips grazed her lover’s stubble and down his Adam’s apple, “Tell me what I need to know about your dear cousin. Who lives with him? What hours does he keep? What weaknesses does he have?”
Anjasa stroked down his chest, edging further and further down until she brushed across the top of his tailored pants. “Quickly, before I get distracted.”
That, more than anything that day, got Loren’s attention. He perked a bit and sat straighter in the chair. “I... I dunno,” he said, only looking flustered for a brief moment before he seemed to regain some of that confidence she had instilled in him the night before. “He had dropped out of the family’s notice for a long while before he popped up and impressed dad—” he cleared his throat, “—my father.”
“Well,” she cooed and swept her hand lower, teasing over the thickness of his pants. “I guess I’ll just have to get acquainted. I’m a little over dressed, but I’ll return soon,” she promised with a broad grin.
The baffled young noble watched her get up and leave. The slinky red dress she wore hardly seeming to match his own idea of ‘overdressed’. That merciful, surprised silence gave her the opportunity to slip off.
Early morning street goers were too tired and preoccupied with a day of work ahead to give her the kind of notice she could’ve expected at any other time of day, but that was ideal. It gave her the opportunity to more casually inspect the ominous manor. She noticed it was recessed in from the other homes. Making it not so deep, but broader and taller. It was definitely a manor as judged by the neighbourhood, though not like any she’d ever known a noble to live in.
Merchants? Definitely. Crooked guards on the take? Maybe. Nobles? No, never.
Though one thing she did note was that the front gate was unlocked. Even there, on the edge of the Stink Streets, the owners didn’t seem to expect robbery so early in the day.
Aside from that, none of the windows seemed vulnerable; the bars thick and fairly new. The home was obviously recently fortified by the standards of the old part of the city. The iron gating definitely put in within the last half decade by her judgement.
It would suit her needs just fine. The actress in her craved challenge, but making a scene was... less preferable. At least in public.
Still, she had no shame as she kicked off one of her shoes, running barefoot to the door as forced tears trailed from her eyes. She was wearing a tight red dress, but it looked slept in and used, and her hair was already a tousled mess of waves and curls. The vibrancy and light in her eyes shifted to one of terror and fear as she brought her small fist to the door, looking around frantically.
“Someone, please! Let me in!” she pleaded with the heavy door. Her fingers clasped the knocker and brought it down again and again.
Her panic seemed so real, so genuine that even she began to feel her pulse race and adrenaline kick in, the skilled con woman slipping easily into the role of damsel in distress.
Anjasa didn’t get the immediate sort of response she was hoping for, but at last she could hear the sound of metal and wood moving on the other side of the heavyset door. When it pulled open, she found herself staring eye to eye with a big, muscled man. Thick biceps stuck out of a short sleeved shirt that looked old and worn. Hair was tied back from a face pock marked and full of scars.
“The fuck is this?” he cursed, looking her over with utter confusion.
“They’re after me, please let me in,” she pleaded, her green eyes going wide as her hands reached out for his arm. “Please, I’ll do anything!” Her voice quivered and her eyes held such big tears as she begged.
The large, brutish looking man stood his ground, a hard gaze on his face as he watched her. “Git off a me, ya skank!” he bellowed and gave her a push away. To which she allowed herself a graceless fall to her rear, in keeping with the act.
“Berro!” came a stern, commanding voice at which the brute halted and stiffened.
“Jes’ some trollop lookin’ for a handout, boss. Tha’s all,” he insisted.
She looked behind her, as if someone were hot on her trail, before she leapt to her feet once more and began bawling harder. “I don’t want anything! I just need a place to hide. Please, I’ll pay you back! Whatever you want and then some!”
The large man, Berro, appeared ready to push her off again, but then from out of the dark manor behind him a pale hand descended on his shoulder. “Go back to the Stink Streets and tend to business,” came the commanding voice.
“But boss—” Berro started to protest.
“Just do it. And close the gate this time,” and with that he hesitated just a moment before slipping past her, a deathly glare as the voice invited her inside to the gloomy dark abode. “Come in, hun. Shut the door with you. You’ll be safe.”
She almost lost her footing, for a moment forgetting the discrepancy without her left heel. It only added to the effect, though, as she practically toppled into the house and struggled to close the door behind her. She was out of breath and tears still reddened her cheeks, but her big, watery eyes went to her ‘saviour’. Her target.
It took her keen elven eyes a while to adjust to the sudden change in lighting. The only illumination a few strands of light that seeped in from around the thick drapes over all the windows.
Though once she did she was greeted with a surprising sight. The tall man before her looked like no noble she’d ever seen. Bigger than the young wannabe Lord Faro, this man was pale, and sported a long head of equally colourless hair. She might’ve mistaken him for an older, distinguished gentleman, except his face looked young and unblemished. All but for the large scar that ran from his chin across his cheek.
“Who is after you?” he asked, standing there calmly, confidently. Not the poise of a noble, but with an air of confidence and command nonetheless. It made him look like more of a swashbuckler than a lord to be.
“I don’t know, some guys,” she whimpered, moving towards the large man as if seeking his comfort. “I woke up, and the last thing I remember was going in for a drink last night...”
When she touched him she found out he was tall, but not so large as she thought. The vest and billowy shirt he wore beneath gave him the appearance of being bulky, but beneath she felt hardness. Lean muscle as he placed his cool hands upon her arms just beneath her shoulders.
“Hmm,” was all she got out of him at first, but he moved one hand up to her neck, and she felt the cold metal of his rings as he tilted her head back and gazed down at her. His eyes seemed dark, though she couldn’t make out their colour clearly in the dark light. He had a pair of lovely lips that were contorted in contemplation. “Bad business, that,” he stated. “Where did you get the drink?” he asked, studying her.
She caught her gaze before it lingered over long on his mouth, trying to shake her mind free of the thought. “At one of the clubs... not around here. I’ve never been here before,” she said with a tremor to her voice. “What if they find me?”
His almond shaped eyes narrowed just a bit as he casually inspected her. His gaze was piercing, but casually so. He radiated authority, and though he wasn’t the most handsome man she’d seen as of late, his calm control, unique features, careful tending and rugged look all added up to something worthy of notice.
“You’re fine here,” he said, perhaps satisfied with her tale at last. “Come,” he said, his strong hand guiding her towards one of the rooms along the main entryway. He pulled out a wooden chair for her. “Sit down, miss...?”
“Anjasa,” she whispered, leaning into him more than necessary. Perhaps a little too much, even for her ruse. He smelled so nice, though. Felt so warm. She’d slipped into the role
with such ease, the distress and fear coming so naturally to her that her instinctual behaviours started kicking in.
She needed men; their strength, their scent, their flesh. It was a compulsion beaten into her, but it was something that brought only warmth and need to her body.
She slipped into the chair, taking in a deep breath. “I owe you my life,” she said, staring up at him. He had the perfect vantage point of her overflowing cleavage, and her pulse quickened.
The flicker of the man’s eyes towards her generous figure did not go unnoticed, but he did not swoon as she might’ve hoped he would. Instead he helped her into the chair and squeezed her shoulder. “It is not common to meet an elven lady such as yourself so far down the by the wall, Miss Anjasa.” His voice was husky and rich, not the same sort of carefully trained voice of Loren, but with its own charms.
She drew in her lower lip and let her head tilt forward, “I’m just so lucky you were home. Who knows what those brutes were planning!” Her voice constricted and squeaked at her final word, and her hand trembled against his thigh. It was a casual motion to almost any, but for her it was planned and professional.
Despite his calm, in control demeanor, the trick did its job, and he looked directly where she wanted him to. “There there,” he comforted with a squeeze of her shoulder. “How about a cup of tea?” he asked, already stepping away from her towards a doorway at the other side of the dining room. As he pushed back the drapes she could see—with her dark adjusted eyes—that it was the kitchen. Modest for the manor’s size.
“Can... Can I come with you?” she asked, her hand gripping the back of the chair, struggling to stand up. She paused and drew in her lips, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be suspicious of you...”
