Cloaks and Daggers

by Jay Aury

  Swords

  She was Socretha Bladebreaker. She knew no fear.

  She had slain trolls in the black hills and battled the Rangers in the low valleys. She’d ridden worgs and slaughtered any man who tried to take her by force. She led orcs into battle against every menace that lurked beyond the Dragon’s Teeth. Fought a demon and his harpy brides.

  Yet, as Socretha pushed open the door and entered the great hall of Fulgrim’s Keep, she felt uneasy. Braziers burned a red flame, washing the dusty hall with the crimson glow. The light had the same grim beat she now knew well, and crossing the stones, she felt it glow against her as she made her way towards the far wall.

  There, Morgoroth’s old throne had been erected. Tiberius sat in it, head drooping, eyes shut, dozing like some waiting cobra, his skulled hat shadowing his face. She wondered what he dreamed…

  As she drew nearer his red eyes opened, flashing in the dark. She paused, feeling the power which swelled from him thicken the air in the room. Her heart beat faster, desire racing through her blood hot and heavy. She kneeled before him. “Master. Forgive me.”

  “Eh?” Tiberius said.

  “I failed you. Your enemies got close as I duelled their distraction.”

  “Oh. That.” He shifted slowly, pulling himself back up. “I’ve had worse.”

  She didn’t doubt it. She recalled the wounds which snaked across his body. Markings burning with the low light of power, carved deep into his very flesh. “Master,” she said. “I-“

  “Shut up. Here.”

  He tossed something at her. With a start she caught it. A sheathe worked in black scaled leather. Uncertainly she took the handle and slowly drew out the sword.

  Power surged up her arm. She sucked in a breath as she saw the blade. The metal was like nothing she had ever seen. It seemed forged of shifting black and red, like some mirror into a hell of smoke and flame. The hilt was worked into the shape of a dragon’s skull, its eyes glowing hatefully, the blade spilling from its maw. As she drew it fully she felt something fill her. A strength that tightened her arms and thumped in her ears like the war drums.

  “There,” Tiberius said, resting back in his throne and pointing at the sword. “Now, break that blade and I’ll be really impressed!”

  She looked up at him, struck. She held the sorcerous sword close. “Master. I…”

  He waved with annoyance. “I’m giving you that so you’ll be a better commander of my armies. Not out of any other reason. Got it?”

  Socretha couldn’t help the smile which flitted across her lips. She sheathed the sword, the sudden loss of its unholy might like a chill. “Thank you, master. I will use it to serve you well.”

  Tiberius harrumphed and sank a bit deeper into his chair. “Yes. Well. See you do…”

  Socretha buckled the blade onto her side and stood again, sauntering towards him. “Master,” she said. “Are you feeling stronger?”

  “Strong enough,” he said. “Why?”

  The orcess straddled his legs, settling atop him. They were nearly at height, but she was heavier with denser muscles. She felt the heat of his body through black robes. Warming her blood as she unbuckled her breastplate and pulled it aside, baring her lime green breasts and coal black nipples.

  “Oh,” he said, resting his hands on her hard, muscled hips. “I see.”

  “Take me, Master,” Socretha breathed. “Fuck your champion.”

  “You make a compelling argument,” he said, hands sliding up her hard waist to cup her breasts. He leaned in, taking a hardened teat in his lips. She gasped as he bit down, the pain so sweet she trembled. She pushed herself against him as his hands went down to her belt and unbuckled it, her new sword dragging down her pants to bare her loins and the dark thatch of hair that framed her cunt.

  As the last of her clothes fell away she felt the heat of him more acutely. Her breath grew ragged as she ground her mound against the hardness in his robes. She pushed him from her aching teat and grabbed the front of his robes. Impatient, she yanked, tearing the fabric open.

  “Hey!” Tiberius gasped. “That was new!”

  “Punish me for it, Master,” Socretha said, her eyes bright with the thrill she’d only known before in battle.

  Tiberius snarled and grabbed her. His hands were strong against her as he lifted over his lap and slammed her down.

  Her head fell back. Her dark lips parted with a cry as his length sank deep into her cunt. She moaned and began to move atop him, her hips bouncing on his lap, his cock thrusting into her. The coiling designs across his chest flared against her. She grabbed the horns on the back of the throne as she fucked herself atop him.

  “Ah. Ah! Yes! Yes! Master! Fuck me! Fuck your champion! Mnnn!”

  Tiberius hammered her tender cunny with equal ardor. His fingers dug into her muscular hips until she cried out with ecstasy and came hot around his cock. She rode out her orgasm atop him and three more after. He came in her twice, swearing and cursing his seed flashes of heat blazing through her . Her fingers dug into his back, clawing ten more gashes into his skin as he took her on his savage throne.

  At last, breasts heaving, she rolled off his throne. Sated. Socretha smiled to herself with satisfaction. Let’s see that fat titted cow match that!

  “You ruined my robe,” Tiberius observed.

  “I will take another for you, my Master. I’ll storm the southlands and pile their treasures to your feet. Their women will be your slaves. Their skulls your thrones.”

  Tiberius smiled, light flicking like flame from his mouth. “I do like the sound of that. Except that skull bit. A throne made of them is sincerely uncomfortable. Imposing, yes, but it gets old day in and out.”

  Socretha smiled, stroking his chest. “…Master?”

  “Hm?”

  “Whatever happened to that slave you asked me to fetch?”

  “Oh? Her.” Tiberius grinned harder, his eyes burning like coals as he picked up a waiting goblet and took a sip. “I had her go and prepare the frontiers…”

  Epilogue

  King Javrin watched the carriage roll in from the upper windows of the palace. It was a strange device, designed to draw the eye. Black steel curled up across its facets, giving it a sharply grim and dark look, and as it rounded the fountain in the palace’s square it drew to a halt.

  Javrin stroked his trim beard thoughtfully. Its arrival had been the talk of the city, gliding past the Arch Gate with the morning mists and rolling up to one of the most expensive inns in the city. The people of Orlas, the largest and most eastern of the five kingdoms, were a deeply curious lot. And the arrival of that carriage had whetted their appetites. Perhaps it was how, no sooner had she arrived, then a message came to the palace, requesting a private audience with the king. Perhaps it was the men who had come with it, all in black robes, veiled and hooded, leaving only a slit of darkness where eyes would be. Perhaps it was the long silks which obscured the interior of the carriage, or the gold filigree which wound about its frame in long curlicues.

  Or perhaps it was the woman who stepped down from the carriage, a silken gown drifting about her. His reports said when she’d arrived, naked girls in golden collars were sitting at her dainty feet. No sign of them now, he noted, oddly disappointed.

  King Javrin frowned faintly. She claimed to be from the duchy of Sammia. Maybe she was. That territory was near the Dragon’s Teeth and its seneschals rarely visited the capital. Gods. There were so many bloody lords in Orlas these days. A man could get lost in trying to remember them all.

  But Javrin knew he would remember her.

  She commanded attention as the chamberlain bowed at the gate and invited her inside the palace. He could see the heads of the guards turn, tracking her journey through the heavy doors.

  Javrin turned, crossing the room slowly. His study was built in the highest tower of the Rose Court, the palace’s inner sanctum. Named for the stained glass that cast its glow across the red sandstone, he made his way to his desk and car
efully took a seat.

  The guards at the door snapped to attention as the door opened, the chamberlain gliding in.

  “The Lady Damera.”

  Javrin was glad he was seated, because he didn’t trust his legs to hold him as the woman entered. A slinky black dress garbed her, a split in the side allowing her long legs to carry her forward. Strapless, the fabric clung to the upper globes of her soft breasts, her face alight, seeming to glow in the rosy hues of the windows. Long dark hair spilled down her back, and even the strange tattoo which crawled up her neck and along her cheek in a hook shape couldn’t detract from her awesome beauty.

  Her eyes held his, the golden iris compelling. The king shifted, warmth spreading through him, his cock hardening despite himself. Another bonus of being seated.

  “My lady,” the king said. “Well met.”

  “Thank you, your majesty,” she said, her voice a breathless purr that made the room feel warmer. “For making time for me.”

  The king coughed and loosened the collar of his doublet. “Yes, well. Anything for my subjects.”

  Her eyes flickered. Her lips turned up and those eyes… gods, those eyes were just so lovely.

  With a start he realized she had crossed the room and stood before his desk. She gently put a hand atop it, leaning in, giving him a wonderful view down her dress. Her scent washed over him. Something exotic, spices, and something he couldn’t name but that made him think of dark curtains and soft gasps.

  “Your majesty, I’ve come to speak to you about… urgent matters of state. Might we… speak in private?”

  Javrin swallowed. “Private?”

  She leaned in, her soft lips forming the words, “For your ears… only…”

  Javrin’s heart thumped faster. He knew he shouldn’t, yet he glanced at the guards and his chamberlain. “Leave us.”

  His chamberlain hesitated, then departed. The guards followed. Damera waited until they were gone, the door shut tight behind them. Then she turned back to him, filling his world with her lovely face.

  “My king,” Damera breathed, slowly gliding around the rim of the table. “Thank you for being so… accommodating.”

  “Glad to,” Javrin breathed, inhaling again her scent. He tried to center himself. Focus. But his eyes followed her as she circled around the desk, gliding behind his chair.

  “You’re such a wise, good ruler, my king.”

  “Well, I don’t mean to brag…”

  “Is it bragging if it’s the truth?” Damera murmured. She was behind him, her breasts soft against his shoulder, her lips an inch from his ear. He shivered as her tongue slid out, gliding along the lobe. “And since you are so kind, my king, it can be so easy to trust. To believe. To want to see the good in others.”

  “I try to be just…” Javrin breathed softly, relaxing despite himself. Her scent washing over him, surrounding him. Intoxicating him.

  “I know,” she purred. Her arms slid around him, her hands gliding down his chest. “And your people need such wisdom. But my king. Your enemies would seek to use that good nature against you…”

  Javrin’s brow furrowed. “Enemies?”

  “My king, don’t worry,” Damera breathed, and Javrin’s brow eased. “You needn’t worry. For you are so good and wise and strong, but you are surrounded by enemies. All men of power are. Those who would seek to use your good nature against you. But don’t worry,” she breathed as her hands ran up and down his chest, soothing those worries away. “I am here for you. To help you…”

  “Help… me…” Javrin breathed, his mind slowing, emptying but for that sweet fog of her voice sliding into his ear. He moaned softly as her lips took his earlobe between them and gently suckled it, and he could feel her smile as she did so.

  “Oh yes, my king. Help you. Advise you. After all, you need a voice of reason.”

  “Reason…” Javrin moaned as she nibbled his earlobe.

  “Wisdom…”

  “Wisdom,” Javrin sighed as her fingers undid his belt. Opened his pants.

  “Strength…”

  “Str.... nnn,” Javrin moaned as her fingers wrapped around his shaft, slowly stroking him.

  “To warn you against treachery. And isn’t mine so trustful a voice, my king? So wise and clever? Don’t you want to just… listen to my voice? Feel it fill your head? Wash away your worries?”

  “Yessss,” Javrin moaned.

  Damera laughed softly. Such a lovely laugh. So tinkling and pleasant, though, he noted idly, it sounded a little like she were… hissing…

  Then she was before him, straddling his lap. The gown was gone, lost at some point. He stared at her flawless, soft flesh, her ample breasts filling his vision, her soft hips against his lap, his cock pressed against her vulva. Her hands moved from his cock and to his shoulders. He tilted back his head. Strange. He didn’t remember her pupils… being slits…

  “Relax, my king,” Damera purred as her soft pussy swallowed his cock. “Relax… Let me do the thinking for a while… Let me be the voice… of wisdom…”

  Javrin moaned softly as her hips began to slowly move up and down atop his cock. Damera’s smile grew broad, fangs gleaming in the rosy light spilling through the windows. He gasped, arched, and came within her, shuddering with his orgasm.

  Damera cooed, leaning in once more, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her hips began to move again, pumping him into her once more. She leaned in further, her eyes capturing his own, glazing them. Those lovely, sensuous lips pressed against his.

  And the world melted away.