Chapter Four: Amendment

I don’t know how long I’ve been lying on this hard pallet. Both my body and my mind have reached a new level of exhaustion. Someone has been coming in and out of the room; I’ve felt their soft hand on my forehead and a damp cloth on my burning thighs. It feels like weeks but I’m sure I haven’t been here longer than a few days, drifting in and out of consciousness. The events of the distant afternoon have rendered me bust.

I have no idea what time of day it is, the windowless room a murky haze from what little light the sconces give out. I’m naked besides a sheet wrapped around my waist, I twist underneath its feeble covering, pulling it over my exposed breasts, it’s stifling in here but I feel the need to conceal my flesh, as a sudden rush of humiliation washes over me; I feel sick. I push myself up onto my elbows, wincing as the rawness of my buttocks and thighs rubs against the coarse bedding. I scan the room for my belongings, I need to dress and leave this place quickly; the room a vessel of sullied recollections.

I hang my legs over the edge of the pallet, and deign to stand. My legs feel weak, suddenly the room is spinning and my head is throbbing, my vision completely blurred, I fall to my knees and cry out from the shock. I begin to dry heave, clutching at the sheet around my stomach. I press my forehead to the wooden floor, close my eyes and wait for the world to still.

The door quietly opens and I lift my head to see the silhouette of a woman standing in the opening. She is tall and willowy, holding a tray of unidentified items; all I can make out in the gloom is a high mug with stream curling up from the rim. She glides towards me, her grace undeniable. ‘You should not be out of bed, you’re still weak.’ Her quiet voice is laden with kindness.

I groan and push myself back. ‘I need to go home.’ I gasp from the effort.

‘You can’t even make it out of bed.’ She crouches down next to me and places her hands under my armpits, hauling me back up onto the pallet; I cling onto the sheet wrapped around me. I’m self conscious of my dead weight, but my head is still spinning and despite myself I cannot stand alone.    

I lay flat on my back breathing heavily, everything hurts. I refuse to evoke the reason why, I don’t want to remember what happened, I don’t want to admit to the sick pleasures I derived, the way I was treated and the way I responded so eagerly. What is the matter with me? This is not how a normal woman behaves. ‘I need to see my husband.’ I know not of his state, be it alive or dead; I must know.

The woman perches on the bed beside me. ‘You need to get better; your body has suffered a great deal.’ Her eyes they are so kind, such a beautiful blue, so pale that they are almost grey. She looks so pure, and I am so sullied. She knows what happened here, she knows what I have done. I am dirt in comparison to her innocence; why is she being kind to such filth? ‘Here, you need to drink something, it’ll help you build your strength.’ She offers me a cup of water and I take it eagerly and finish it in two gulps.

‘Thank you.’ I smile at her. ‘What time is it? How long have I been here?’ I have so many questions but she owes me no answers, her kindness already exceeding the rule.

‘About two days, after they left you slept solid for the most part, which is to be expected. You’ve been running a fever as well and the welts on your legs and buttocks were very cruel, but I’ve bathed them in healing salve so they are on the mend.’ She smiles again and I cannot refrain from weeping. ‘It’s ok, they’ve gone. You need rest and to eat; regain your strength, you’ll be fine.’ She reaches down to the tray and hands me a roll of stale bread, the thought of eating turns my stomach, but she is right; I need my strength. So I take it, smiling gratefully. ‘I’ve made you something, which I advise you drink as soon as you’ve finished eating.’ I look at her, slightly bemused. ‘Some herbs I’ve crushed into a tonic, lest you spawn some City Watch’s bastard.’

I nod and gag slightly on the horrid bread. ‘You are too kind. I do not deserve such warmth.’ More tears fall, why do I cry so? I exploited pleasure did I not? I was willing, I wanted it. Yet why does the memory feel so illusory? So foul?

‘Why do you say that? You have been horribly wronged at the hands of men who should know better.’ Her eyes are filled with a sudden sadness now. ‘I could not simply turn you out, you would have perished and I would not have been able to live with that.’ She leans down to the floor and picks up the steaming cup. ‘They have done a vile thing, you should not be ashamed, it is they that should be ashamed.’ Her soft voice filled with empathy.  

She does not understand how it was, I shake my head. ‘It is not like that...I...was...willing.’ I can feel the sting of bile in my throat.

She sighs, and looks down pensively into the steaming cup. ‘Oh darling, you have been horribly deceived.’

‘What do you mean?’ I stare intently at her pretty face.

‘Whatever feelings of desire you experienced were not real, they were not your own.’ Her tone is one of sorrow.

I shake my head again in protest. ‘You don’t understand. What they did was for my own good I needed to learn, I wanted to learn.’ Even as I say the words the sentiment behind them weakens.

‘That is what Ullri does. It is sorcery in its most wicked form. He and Link crave domination and bloodshed. I imagine you felt as though he cared for you, even understood you? But it’s all lies summoned by dark magic; he is a sick man. I can tell by the look in your eye that his illusion is fading.’ She talks like one who has endured.

My mind is racing, I cannot comprehend this; it felt so real. The physical enjoyment I took and the emotional connection I felt with this Ullri, my emerald eyed Knight. ‘I am such a fool.’ I sob, realising how little these men cared; I was just an object to satisfy their gratification, the deceit like a kick in the teeth.

‘Shhh, you are not. It was evil sorcery, your mind was not your own.’ She strokes my hair and places the steaming cup in my hands. ‘Now drink this.’

I do as I’m bid and swallow the thick liquid; it’s fucking disgusting, I don’t want to know what’s it in. ‘I need to know that my husband’s ok, he was hurt.’

‘He’s alive; they hauled him into custody after they were done with you. He isn’t going anywhere, so I suggest you concentrate on getting better.’ Her timbre is firm but soothing and I can’t help but feel reassured. ‘Father says there was a fight, and that your husband nearly murdered some boy?’

‘It was all my fault.’ I clench my jaw at the memory of how much I have destroyed. My life is never going to be the same again.

‘You needn’t explain. Now you should get some sleep. I’ll come back later with more food, we’ll have you well again in no time.’ Her lovely smile warms my soul somewhat, and I thank the gods for her benevolence.

I finish the horrific tonic and she places it back on the tray.  Smiling at me one last time she leaves the room, leaving me alone with my constant thoughts, thoughts of Ranril and his maimed face and the look of disgust he bestowed upon me. He despises me that is for sure, and who could blame him. Kalcha, I have hurt him too, he is in jail because of my selfish desires. How I tried to justify my grubby actions by blaming him and his lack of passion, when he himself was nigh on erupting; both of us bursting with unfulfilled wishes. It all feels so silly now, so pathetic. How all this could have been avoided by simply talking. I drift to sleep with these notions running through my head over and over....

When I awake, I am alone. I feel much better, like I have slept for an age. I push myself up, slowly so as to not experience another dizzy spell. I stand, leaving behind the sheet and make my way over to the table where my clothes have been laid out neatly. I pull on my shirt and fasten it, I’m still sore from the beating as well as from the rough coitus, so I very slowly pull on my britches, grimacing from the pain. I try not to think too much about it, it is something that needs to be buried deep. I unhook my knapsack from the back of the chair and loop it over my shoulder then tie my sandals and shamble towards the door - walking is not the most comfortable of things.

The tavern is deserted, besides the one eyed bar keep and Ol’Tyron rocking back in his chair, drunkenly singing some old Ballard of the buccaneer - for an old piss head he has pretty fine voice.

‘Ah she has risen!’ Cries the one eyed man. ‘Gratia! Your patient has made a full recovery.’ He bellows towards a side door. He smiles at me, and I notice the pity he exudes. I smile back at him, bashfully.  

Gratia appears in the doorway, an apron around her waist and flour specked across her face. ‘What are you doing up?’ She exclaims, wiping her hands on her apron and dashing over to me as if I’m about to collapse at any instant. ‘You should be resting.’ She hooks her arm through mine and tries to steer me back into the room. ‘Father, pour her a strong mead, that should settle her.’

‘I’m feeling much better, honestly.’ I resist her pull.

She looks at me sternly and places the palm of her hand across my forehead. ‘You’re not burning up. But still, you have been through a lot; sorcery takes its toll you know.’

I just want to get home and away from this place, away from the memory and the dishonour, but Gratia has been so kind to me, I do not want to appear ungrateful. ‘Your kindness is immense believe me when I say how much I appreciate everything you have done, but I must go.’ I pull my arm free from her and smile. ‘Thank you’ I whisper.

Sadness swathes her. ‘You needn’t thank me; I did what anyone would have done.’

This is simply not true, people like Gratia are scarce. If it had been just anyone I would be out in the streets, probably dead. I nod my head and kiss her on the cheek; I feel as though she understands, something about the sadness in her eyes and the need to concern herself with a stranger’s misfortune, as though she herself has fallen foul to such treatment. ‘I shall remember this, and one day I will repay you.’ She squeezes the top of my arm as I turn to leave.

‘Aright flower! You look especially lovely this morning, why don’t ya come sit on Ol’Tyron’s lap for a minute ey? Maybe have a little jiggle, see where it leads..I’ll tell ya where it’ll lead, yes I will, it’ll lead to my cock inside..’ before he has time to finish the sentence Gratia has kicked away his chair leg and he’s squirming on the floor like a pitiful worm. Despite my melancholy I snort loudly, smirking at the fool.  

‘Fucking idiot.’ She says.

The streets are quiet, judging by the height of the sun and the coolness of the air it’s still early. I make my way un-harassed through the narrow lanes. I rarely venture this far into the slums so the muck and grime are a shock to me, not to mention the amount of beggars that litter the dirt road. But they do not trouble me; they look too weak to move. It almost puts my own troubles into perspective, besides the niggling thought that I may be joining them soon, what with no income and a convict for a husband. The sound of seagull cries fill the clear morning, the docks are not far from here, and I can smell fish and salt in the air. It’s very built up in this part of town, the clay buildings stretching upwards, crookedly joining with the vast blue sky. Off into the distance beyond the mass of twisting streets and grandiose monuments one cannot fail to notice the soaring estate of Lord Soren, its spires and steeples towering over the most stacked of houses, glittering a beautiful gold in the morning sun. I sigh heavily thinking about what life would be like with such prosperity.                 

I’m approaching Ranril’s home; I know I should avoid him for his words cut like glass. But I must know of his condition. I pause at his door, going through the scenarios that may enfold; each one of them bad.

I knock gently and wait, but nothing happens. So I knock harder, a few moments later the door jerks inwards, and Ranril’s battered face appears in the crack.

‘Ranril.’ I say as though my heart is breaking.

‘He’s not here.’ He says and tries to close the door on me, but I put my foot swiftly between it and the frame.

‘Please, I just want you to you how sorry I am.’ His lovely face is a broken mess; I have to fight from crying.

‘I don’t want to know.’ He snaps.

‘If I could undo this I would.’ I stare deeply into his one good eye, longing for him to see how regretful I am.

He snorts. ‘Look at me Ros, look at what your demented husband has done to me, all because he can’t fuck you right! I want nothing more to do with this. I lost my job and now I’m scared for my life because of you, a huge price to pay for such a mediocre screw; wouldn’t you agree?’

I understand his fury but his cruelty is too much for me to bear. ‘Do I mean that little to you? All those years of closeness, the longing looks the teasing and the flirting; all our foundations, they mean nothing?’

‘Don’t read too much into it, yeah I wanted to fuck you, I mean you’re easy on the eye and all but come on, you’re kidding yourself if you thought it was anything more. And this.’ He points to his face. ‘I did not sign up for, so kindly remove your foot and piss off!’

I have nothing left to give, so I withdraw and tense my body as the door slams shut in my face. He is hurting a great deal now, but maybe one day when his wounds have healed he’ll understand how truly repentant I am. Or perhaps I really do mean nothing to him, and I will be forgotten as soon as his splendour restores. Even though our love making felt so inherent and our bodies like one; these emotions and desires were real for me at least. A sensation I can trust not like the falsity that happened in the tavern. Maybe one day he can forgive? I turn from his doorstep, feeling neither worse nor better. I know that he will live, and that is the best I could have hoped for.  I trudge through the quiet alleys, thankful for their stillness, blindly making my way out of the maze and back into the familiar part of town.

The streets begin to open up, light is pouring into the public squares warming up the fountains and my flesh. I close my eyes and tilt my face to the sun, basking in its tender rays. The sound of children laughing and the chatter of women pull me from my morose reflections, if only for a moment. The market stalls are being set up and a low buzz fills the square; the day has truly begun. The jail is not far from here, I make a left at the blacksmiths and set off towards the gallows; its great stone archway looming before me.

I have had no reason until now to set foot in this place; even though the purpose is gruesome, the space, in appearance, is contrary to what one would expect of an execution stage. I walk across a wide open courtyard, flagged in sandstone. There are giant sculptures depicting the gods, shaped from the finest marble, and their most famous apostles lining the jails exterior walls, their stature and lifelike features striking to witness. And of course there are the gallows themselves set in the middle of the great quad, a primitive wooden construction that is jarring among the elegance. Behind the erection an extensive set of step rises up and towards the entrance of the grand looking jailhouse, its many barred windows appear to watch me as I make my way across the unoccupied space. There are two large balconies projecting out, one on either side of the square; Lord Soren’s spectator galleries, for witnessing the death of a corrupt high born or great adversary; he is renowned for never missing a show.

I hastily make my way up the steps, conscious of the nagging soreness below my waist. I turn the wrought iron handle and shoulder the heavy door, it moans with resistance. The foyer is small and well lit; a red headed dwarf is seated behind a desk, looking closely at an open book in front of him. He has not noticed my arrival. I stand for a few moments, waiting for him to look up, but he doesn’t, so I kick the door shut, flooding the room with a resonating thud. He clears his throat and slowly raises his eyes from the manuscript, fixing me with his beady stare.

‘Yes?’ He asks disinterestedly, his face the picture of fatigue.

‘’I believe you’re holding my husband, Kalcha Leron. He was brought in a few days ago.’ I say studying the ruddy dwarf.

He turns a page of his book; but doesn’t look away from me. He frowns, his forehead deeply furrowing. ‘Yes.’ He nods slowly.

‘Could I see him please?’ I ask politely.

‘No.’

‘Oh, may I ask why?’   

The little man appears to roll his eyes at me and simultaneously tug on his beard. ‘Because he is my prisoner and because I say so.’ A raise of his brows as if challenging a rebuke.

‘I shall only be a minute. He needs to know that I’m well.’ I try to plead with his cold eyes.

‘Fifty bullion.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Fifty bullion for bail.’ He leans back in his chair and knits his fingers together.   

‘I can’t afford that. Please I only want to speak with him.’ I can feel my voice breaking.

He tuts and shakes his head slowly. ‘No can do.’

‘But, please....he thinks I’m hurt.’  I stare wide eyed at him in utter distress, and all he can do is shrug his shoulders. Where am I supposed to get that amount of gold from? Even if I was still working it would take months to save up. ‘I can’t afford that.’ I say again, clenching my jaw.

‘Then he rots.’ The little bastard smiles at me.

‘What harm would it do? Please Ser I’m begging you, let me speak with him!’ I’m practically bawling.

‘Fifty.....Bullion.’ He repeats this very slowly as if talking to a simpleton.

I feel like screaming, I draw my hand down my face in exasperation. To the right of the dwarf’s desk is a portico to what I suppose is the cells. I glance quickly at the dwarf and step closer to the entry. ‘Kalcha!’ I scream at the top of my voice, moving swiftly. ‘Kalcha!’ I cry again.

‘Don’t do that.’ The dwarf says taken aback. ‘Stop it.’ He’s up from behind his desk, moving to block the doorway with a look of annoyance. I see for the first time just how well armed he is, his right hand resting on the pommel of his short sword.

‘Kalcha’ I scream again.

‘Right that’s it.’ He shifts towards me, he’s surprisingly swift for a stout little man, and grabs for my wrist.

‘Rosalyn?’ It’s Kalcha, his voice distant and distorted by the thick stone impound and the rattling of chains.

‘It’s me, Kalcha!’ I cry again, jumping away quickly as the dwarf makes another attempt at restraining me.

‘Thank the gods you’re alive!’ He calls back. It’s so good to hear his voice; his rich and typical grouchy tone causes me to break out in a grin. ‘Are you hurt?’ He asks hastily.

‘I’m ok.’ The dwarf has both my wrists now, his grip firm and unyielding. I fight against it, trying to pull away but the little bastard will not shift, he’s stuck to the stone floor. ‘I will get you out, I promise!’ The dwarf has spun me around, his face pressed into the middle of my back, he shunts me forward, his thick arms wrapped around my waist pinning mine to my sides.

He picks me up with ease and hauls me to the door, I’m wriggling and struggling against him but his hold is like iron. ‘Stop it.’ He says irritably.

‘I promise Kalcha!’ I cry one last time. The dwarf reaches out for the handle and yanks open the dense door, he has me suspended by one arm yet the pressure has not waned, he’s living up to the Dwarven reputation of having the strength of several human men. He effortlessly hurls me out onto the top of the stairway. I put my hands out to break my fall, just before my face collides with the stone, and scramble up onto my knees.

‘Eighty bullion.’ He says giving his beard a tug; then turns on his heels and slams the door shut.

I let out a piercing shriek, from pure rage. ‘You little shit!’ I flop onto my back breathing heavily, staring up at the vast blue sky. What in the world am I going to do?

I head home, I long for a wash and something to drink, preferably strong alcohol. I’m standing in front of my small stone home that is identical to every other on the street, wondering why the front door is wide open. Baffled and anxious I cross over the cobbles, as I falter to the front entrance I notice a piece of parchment nailed to the door, it reads: Eviction notice. I was not prepared for my life to become anymore disastrous. Panic crashes into me, I stumble backwards from the emotional impact, struggling to catch my breath I tear the parchment from the wood and march into the front room; ready to demand answers from whoever is inside.

A woman is stood by the settee; she’s dressed well, in a figure hugging olive gown with plush gold beading, although her blonde hair is pinned back too severely. She looks up startled by my intrusion, her small eyes soaking me in; from her expression I derive she is unimpressed with what she sees.

‘Who are you?’ I snap.

She scowls at me, making her already unpleasant features even more unsightly. ‘I am the proprietor, and pray tell who are you?’ She denigrates.

‘I live here.’ Kalcha dealt with the leasing so our paths are crossing for the first time.

‘Not anymore you don’t.’ She nods towards the paper in my hand. ‘Are you illiterate?’

I screw the paper up and throw it to the floor in disgust, my chest heaving with fury. ‘I have rights!’ I shout at her.

She laughs an almost forced sound that clearly does not come naturally to her. ‘I think not, you forfeited those a month ago when you ceased paying rent.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I ask baffled. I knew money was tight but Kalcha never disclosed the full extent of the crisis.     

She exhales noisily, as if she doesn’t have time for trivial matters such as making people homeless. ‘You had three days to vacate, that time has elapsed, you are now trespassing. So I suggest you leave immediately.’ She turns her back on me as if her words have caused me to vanish.

‘That’s not fair. I have nowhere to go.’ I bleat inanely, my struggles mean nothing to this woman.

I have an all out war with my tear ducts, demanding they renounce their power, tears will solve nothing. I turn to leave, my destination completely unknown. I have no friends, and what little family I have are at the other side of the world; their desire to see me is absent anyhow.   

A familiar voice, like dripping oil extracts my attention. ‘It’s perfect, I’ll take it.’ I turn rigid from the uneasiness this voice instils in me. I spin back around and I’m confronted with the sight of Osur walking from the kitchen; my heart skips a beat at the memory of him discovering Ranril and I in a naked embrace; his gossip singlehandedly demolishing my life. I glare at him, longing to beat him about his bald fat head, all my misery and pain now directed at him. He spies me immediately, his mouth breaking into a smirk and his eyes flashing with malice. ‘Well, well, well. You’re the last person I expected to see.’ His horrible smile is dripping with mockery.

‘This is my house.’ I say through gritted teeth.

‘Oh is it?’ He asks innocently; we both know that he was aware.

‘Not anymore. Now I won’t ask you again, leave!’ The blonde woman barks. But I don’t acknowledge her I’m too caught up mentally bludgeoning Osur to death.

He laughs, enjoying my torment. ‘Unemployed and now destitute, what did you do to piss off the gods?’ He shakes his head as if saddened by my downfall. Then he clicks his fingers in pretend realisation. ‘Oh of course, you’re a whore aren’t you? A whore with a convict for a husband, yes that’ll be why they smite you...whore.’ He snorts and winks at the blonde woman. ‘This dump is perfect for my mother in law, she’s an awful hag, she’ll fit right in.’ I take a step towards him, clenching my fists; he is doing this on purpose. ‘You should leave, the City Watch don’t take kindly to intrusion. Although I’m sure you’ll avoid jail, if you willingly spread your legs for them again.’ A sudden feeling of humiliation shrouds me, everybody knows. I cannot advance from these depths; my name is tainted in this town forever. My eyes are stinging from red hot tears, I want to die, I want to curl up right here and die. My face crumples, I lose the war and the tears fall freely. Osur laughs again. ‘All is not lost, you have a gift between your legs, maybe if you offered it up right now we could come to some arrangement?’ He cocks his head on a side. ‘Let’s see, you let me fuck you and I’ll let you have the crockery, hm, what’d ya say?’ His horrible image is distorted by my tears. ‘I think I’m being generous, let’s be honest you’re pretty used up now.’ My heart is in my throat. I have reached a new low; Osur’s words cutting me like a thousand daggers. He’s right I am used up. I turn away from him and the woman’s condemning gaze. ‘No? Can’t say I’m disappointed. You’ll be lucky if the whore house wants you.’ His mocking tone vanished and replaced with spite. I make my way to the door, my shoulders hunched. I can hear him and the woman sniggering so I break out into a run darting from my old home, the home Kalcha and I had spent years building up, but only took one afternoon to destroy. I run as fast as I can, I have no destination in mind; only to out run my shame.  

Whore, the word goes over in my mind, I have been called this word countless times in past few days; this is clearly what I have become, why fight it? If I embrace it, the word cannot hurt me. It appears I have only one option. My feet lead me back into the seedy belly of Vesale. Back to where I saw the naked woman in the window, the one I felt a mutual tie to, our lives soon to be more comparable. That is if they want me; Osur’s words engraved on my mind.

I stand before a tall wooden building, sounds of merriment and boisterous commotion drifting from the open shutters, even though the sound is inviting I am frozen to the spot. Knowing that once I go through the door there is no going back. I run my hand through my hair and dust down my clothing; I imagine I look a state, not very alluring for a whore. I wipe at my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, trying to eliminate the trace of tears, even though my eyes are still stinging, their puffiness a giveaway. I tug at the wedding band on my finger and slip it into my trouser pocket, take a deep breath and push open the doors.

The Axe Wound, as the place is aptly named, is a light and airy residence, the exposed gallery giving the room an open feel. It smells of sweet perfume and sex. There are several daybeds pushed into the corners, draped in fine colourful silks and covered with plush cushions, several men are lounging in each one, looking as comfortable as if this were their own front room. Half naked women and girls are either astride or sat very close, stroking, preening and cooing, most are pretty, some are exquisite. I feel out of place amongst such beauty, nobody notices my arrival. I make my way past several tables occupied by a small number of men in their cups and towards the bar, where a busty dark haired woman is serving.

‘Now then.’ She nods at me. ‘What ‘ya after love?’ I feel myself blush under her gaze, her eyes are like dark moons, her lips full and crimson, and her smooth dark skin an exotic allure; she is stunning.

I can’t find the words, I feel certain she will laugh at me, I stutter something illegible.

She laughs a beautiful floating sound. ‘We don’t get many women customers in ere. If that is what you are?’ I can feel her eyes bearing into me.

‘No, I...’ I can’t bring myself to say it, they won’t want me here; this is pointless. I should leave at once. I shake my head and turn to leave.

‘Hang on love.’ She beckons me back with a finger. ‘Del!’ She cries over her shoulder towards the backroom. ‘Wait on a sec.’ she directs at me. I stand staring at her dumbly until a man appears in the doorway. He’s tall and slender and leaning against the archway in an easy manner, staring at the woman with a mischievous smile.

‘What is it lovely?’ He is exceptionally well spoken, a sign of either good breeding or good education.

The lovely woman nods over to me, my whole body freezes. ‘What’d ya think of her?’

He directs his gaze to me, and runs a slender finger across his thin moustache. ‘She looks like she could do with a drink.’ He widens his eyes and smiles at me.

‘Yes.’ I gasp breathlessly, as if he’d just answered my prayers.

He laughs and signals for me to sit down on one of the stools. ‘I’ve got this Mara, you can take a break, if you so desire.’ The way he speaks, as if every sentence is a seduction.

‘You are too kind.’ She slaps his arse and winks at me as she moves from behind the bar. ‘Be gentle with him won’t you?’

I’m not quite sure what she means by this but I smile and nod all the same.

‘So, what will it be? You don’t look like a mead drinker that’s for sure.’ His kind eyes hold my stare.

‘Rum, but I don’t have any means of payment.’ I say hastily.

‘Rum, an excellent choice, a woman with fine taste. And don’t go worrying your pretty little head, this is on me.’ He pours me a cup of the dark liquid, moves directly in front of me and hands it slowly over the bar, making sure our hands touch on the exchange, I tingle on contact. ‘You look like you’ve had a rough day.’

I nod my reply, pressing the cool cup to my lips and eagerly swallowing the strong alcohol, it burns the back of my throat, but its effects are comforting. ‘Rough doesn’t quite cut it. Try appalling.’ I meet his intense look and hold it, lifting the cup back to my lips just to give my awkward hands something to do.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ He’s looking down at me, his eyes wide with expectation.

‘No.’

‘Oh thank the gods.’ He lets out a deep breath, pressing his hand to his chest.  

Despite myself I laugh and run my hand through my hair staring at his face, taking in his deep laughter lines and wild hair. ‘I have nowhere to go.’ I say gravely.

‘Ah ah, no talking. Drink woman, drink till you no longer care!’ He throws up his arms dramatically.

I do as I’m told and finish the remainder of my drink. He already has the bottle in his hand and is re filling my cup. I’m beginning to pacify as the rum takes hold of my empty stomach.

‘Although I would like to know your name.’ His face is so expressive, and along with his genteel accent the effect is quite amusing, I giggle like a twelve year old at this charming creature. He beams back at me, propping himself up against the bar with an elbow.

‘Rosalyn.’ I thought about lying, but my mind could not think of anything else.

‘Delightful, simply delightful.’ He takes my hand and kisses it like I’m a high born lady; I giggle again. ‘Charmed to meet you Ros, may I call you Ros?’

‘Yes.’

‘Lovely; and you may call me Del, for that is my name!’ We both laugh, and he begins drinking straight from the bottle. He splutters and his eyes grow large as he spits the brown liquid across the bar; I shirk quickly to avoid a face full of the spray. ‘Fucking hell this shit is strong!’ He coughs, grasping at his throat. ‘I’m not a big drinker Ros, doesn’t sit right with me.’ He’s shaking his head and looking at the bottle as if it came straight from hell. I begin laughing hard at the ridiculousness, so hard that it brings on another wave of tears. ‘Hey, hey, come now don’t cry.’ He bounds over the bar, he’s very ungainly, and almost lands on his arse, which causes my hysteria to peak. He regains his composure and wraps his long arm around my shoulder and squeezes, I reciprocate by burying my face into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

‘Ok, think you’ve had enough.’ He’s stroking my hair, and squeezing so tight, it feels as though he’s the only person in this awful world that cares.

After a good few minutes, I begin to calm. ‘I’m so sorry, how embarrassing.’ I say, pulling my face away from his tear stained shirt.

He laughs. ‘Dear girl, I live with twelve women, I’m used to erratic outbursts.’ He’s still stroking my hair and staring deep into my eyes. ‘By the gods you are one ugly crier.’

I pull away from him in utter shock, my face screwed up in disbelief.

‘No, no, no, I didn’t mean to cause offence, it’s just that you are so very attractive, it was a shock to witness this.’ He crumples up his face imitating my weeping.

I chuckle at his dramatisation. ‘You think I’m attractive?’ I ask as if this is suddenly the whole meaning of my existence.

‘Very. Even in these fucking awful clothes; and dire need of a bath.’

‘Oh, what I’d give for a warm bath.’ I stare off longingly into the distance, fantasising.

He chuckles. ‘Is that what the lady yearns for, above all else?’ He’s holding my hands tightly in his.

I nod, a big grin plastered on my face.

‘Nila!’ He bellows, not tearing his eyes away from mine. A petit blonde girl appears at his side, she is naked from the waist up, her small pert breasts standing to attention. ‘Draw Miss Rosalyn a bath; and give her whatever else she desires.’ He says with a shrug. ‘Room Seven is free I believe.’ 

The blonde rolls her eyes in displeasure and scowls at me before she heads off up stairs to do Del’s bidding.

I lean in and kiss him on the cheek, taking in his smell, of sweat badly masked by a sweet womanly scent. ‘Thank you.’

He smiles. ‘Now run along, I’ll be up shortly to make sure you’ve washed behind your ears.’ He winks at me and pushes back his stool. ‘Then we’ll work out, in great specifics, how much you’re willing to give.’ He says with a quick raise of his brow.

Room Seven, is a cosy little place, an oak bed in the centre of the room, a nightstand and a plain wardrobe next to the bay window are all the furnishing. But it’s light and cheery. I can hear water splashing in the adjoining room, so I cross over the wooden floorboards to the open doorway, and peer around the corner to see Nila pouring a bucket of steaming water into a large metal tub. She looks up from her task and scowls. ‘Don’t be getting used to this.’ She snaps. ‘He’ll fuck ya then decide if he wants to hire ya or not, either way this won’t be fucking happening again, yeah?’ She is so aggressive for one so small.

‘Yes.’ I say.

‘Take your clothes off and get in then, before it gets fucking cold.’ Her accent is sharp and unpleasant I have to stop myself from grimacing.

I move into the room and begin to strip naked. She stands there looking at me, as if eyeing up the competition. I refuse to be intimated by this small girl so I stare back at her in defiance. ‘You look a bit old to be starting out.’

‘What makes you that think I’m just starting out?’ I ask.

For some reason she finds this highly amusing; after she’s collected herself she snaps. ‘It’s pretty fucking obvious.’ I make my way over to the bath, naked. ‘You talk posh like you think you’re something, yet ere you are, no better than a lowly whore.’ She’s still watching me as I climb into the tub. I notice her eyes linger on my arse, a look of alarm flickers across her small features. ‘Let me guess, you’ve had a run in with those two City Watch creeps? What a pair of fucking weirdoes. They’ve really left their mark on you ey?’ Her face seems to soften.

I look at her shocked, as I lower myself slowly into the balmy waters, the sensation like a soothing embrace; I let out a pleasing groan. ‘How did you know?’ I tilt my head back resting it on the tubs edge and close my eyes.

‘The marks, they’re always in the exact same place, like he has some kinda system.’ She’s lathering a bar of soap in the water, takes my arm and begins gently cleansing my skin.

‘Have you suffered?’ 

 ‘Not personally no. But a couple of months back they were er’all time, until Del caught wind of what they were doing, abusing girls and such, they paid real well like, so no one spoke up about it at first. Del, want happy when’t news finally broke, he don’t look like much but he knows some fucking ‘orrible men, the kinda men even the City Watch shit their britches over, so he gave em hard word and we ain’t seen em since. The green eyed one, I’ve seen him up close, gave me chills, somet not right with him, not right at all. Apparently he might not even have a cock!’ She’s shaking her head as she pulls me forward and starts washing my back, her gentle touch a respite. ‘I’ve heard the horror stories though, how they make you feel like you wan’it, and the aftermath ain’t pretty, one girl completely lost her fucking mind and jumped out’ top window, broke her neck.’

I gawp at her in disbelief. ‘Poor girl.’

‘Yep.’ We exist in silence for a while as she finishes washing me. ‘Listen, you’ve obviously had ‘ard time of it, but it’s alright er, honest. Del’s one of the good guys.’ She’s looking at me earnestly. ‘It can be tough sometimes, but you gotta remember, it could always be worse, there could always be someone older or fatter or smellier grunting and squirming away on top of ya. Just take what pleasure you can, and fucking own it.’ She smiles at me, and I decide that I like her. ‘Make sure you show Del a good time, he likes it loud so really lay it on thick, yeah?’ She throws the soap at me, to my surprise I catch it but it instantly slips from my hand shoots a foot in the air and plops down into the waters, I search frantically for it at the bottom of the tub. ‘You probably wanna wash ya vagina, unless ya want me to do that as well?’ She grins naughtily at me.

‘It’s ok, I think I can manage thank you.’ I blush  

‘Sure? Might help get ya in the mood; bonus points if you’re already wet when he gets ‘er.’

‘I’ m sure, thank you.’ I say hurriedly, avoiding her stare.

‘Suit ya self.’ She stands and grabs a blue silk robe from the back of the bathroom door. ‘Put this on when you’re done, towels on’t floor.’ She nods down beside the tub, and throws the gown next to it.  ‘I doubt he’ll be long, and remember, be loud!’ And with that Nila turns and leaves.

I eventually find the soap and wash between my legs, the water has been a great healer; the soreness subsided. I let my index finger slip in and out of my slit, encouraging my arousal; I start to wonder what kind of lover Del will be; I pray that he is the gentle kind.

After I’ve dried, I don the dressing gown and make my way back into the bedroom, dropping down onto the bed. The mattress is hard but at least the sheets are somewhat clean. There is a faint tapping at the door.

‘Are you decent?’ It’s Del’s droll voice. I smile at its affluent tone.

‘Yes.’ I reply.

He flings open the door, as if presenting some great lord. ‘Oh, what a shame you are as well, I thought you were teasing.’ He pouts at me.

I stand up from the bed smiling at his curious face, I cannot help but giggle. I unfasten my robe, and shake out of its soft confines; it floats to the floor and gathers around my bare feet. ‘Better?’ I ask

He nods slowly, brining a clenched fist up to his mouth and biting on his knuckles. ‘Wonderful, my darling you are simply wonderful.’

I laugh again. ‘Are you just going to stand there?’

‘Sorry no, of course not, your beauty just temporarily stunned me! Look at you, look at that body, by the gods you are perfection! I am going to ravish you, forthwith!’ He dashes across the room and wraps his thin arm round my waist. He bends down and I wrap my arms around his shoulders tipping up onto my toes so I can look directly into his eyes. He presses his full lips to mine; I open slightly letting his tongue delve into my warm wanting mouth, his tongue probing mine. I groan and press my naked body against his tall frame. He draws away from our passionate kiss; he has my bottom lip between his teeth, administering a gentle pinch, he releases and snaps his jaw shut playfully. Laughing I tear at his loose shirt, yanking it from his broad shoulders. ‘Oooo, a live one!’ His eyes grow large as he clamps both his hands on my buttocks, and effortlessly hoists me up.  I wrap my legs around his waist kissing his face like tomorrow as been forsaken. My fingers are tangled in his unruly hair, and his are digging into the soft flesh of my bottom, the tenderness of the welts a nagging reminder. He drops me down onto the bed without warning, I squeal from the surprise and push myself up into a sitting position on the side of the bed. He’s stood in front of me, his lean chest exposed and the growing bulge in his trousers plain. We’re both grinning at each other like smitten juveniles. Staring intently he puts his hands on his hips, and nods down to his crotch. ‘Dear girl, it’s not going to suck itself.’ His delivery makes it impossible to reproach, besides this is my try-out.

I take hold of the cord that fastens his britches together and start untying it, not breaking eye contact. I bite my lip and moan, hoping this insinuates to him my longing. I wet my lips as I reach in and grasp his hardening cock that stiffens further from my touch, he’s far from large but it is of no great concern, if anything I find it reassuring. He closes his eyes and lets his head loll backwards. I grip the base of his member, running my fingers of my free hand over his taut stomach, following the thin line of pubic hair from his belly button to his crotch. I lean forward and flick my tongue over the tip of his cock before parting my lips and taking him in. I’m watching him watching me, he’s beaming away lustfully. I increase the suction on his shaft as I pull away, circling my tongue around the head, then plunge back down, slowly pumping the base with my hand. His cock is soaking wet from my saliva and rock hard; he’s groaning and thrusting his hips forward, his fingers raking through my hair. I start pinching my nipple, rolling it between my thumb and finger, and then I let my hand travel down my stomach and in between my open thighs, all the while working his cock in and out of my warm wet mouth. I lift my left leg up and rest my foot on the bed, at an angle so Del can see what I have to offer. He laughs. ‘Are you subtly implying something? Perhaps you crave some attention?’ he says breathlessly, brushing back a strand of hair from my face.

I circle around my clitoris very gently, causing my body to awaken and my cunt to dampen. I look Del deeply in the eye and eagerly nod my reply, whimpering as I take all of him in my mouth again. I remove my hand from the base of his cock and brusquely seize his arse, squeezing till he cries out, in mock pain. ‘Do that again!’ He exclaims blissfully. I giggle in between mouthfuls and reiterate the act.   

He’s pulled all my hair away from my face and is clutching it in his fist; he tugs on it gently, causing his cock to disengage with my mouth. He frees my hair and takes hold of both my hands, smoothly pulling me from the bed and into his arms. We’re kissing again, so avidly. His long fingers running all over my back, his touch so tender. I cannot recall the last time I kissed so frantically. I pull away and I gaze up into his eyes. He moves down, pressing his nose hard against mine, we’re staring at each other like animals preparing to battle, I bury my face in his slender neck and start playfully biting him, his moans growing in intensity.

‘I want you inside me.’ I whisper in his ear as I pull away from his neck. My hand instinctively reaching for his cock, slowly working up and down the shaft.   

He beams and holds me out at arm’s length, studying my face. ‘I concur!’ he howls, swiftly moving around me; I follow his movements and watch in amusement as he leaps onto the bed. I examine him laying there with his trousers still on but his cock jutting out. ‘Jump on then!’ I gawp at him, bewildered as he points enthusiastically at his erect prick. I shake my head and crawl onto to the bed, I can’t desist from smiling. I straddle his waist and he draws himself up to greet me, his breath is hot on my face, our lips so close but not touching. He’s writhing underneath me and emitting a sound not dissimilar to a growl. His hands are welded to my buttocks; the feel of them on my skin is delightful. I rise up onto my knees, reach underneath myself and clasp his dick, positioning the tip of his cock against my slit. I‘m rubbing my nose against the side of his face, pining softly as I lower myself down onto him, he slides in with ease, and expels a long sigh as his full length is admitted into the hot wetness of my pussy. He flops down onto the bed and I wiggle my arse forwards and backwards quickly over his groin, picking up speed. My breathing has become jagged, he has his mouth hanging open as he’s staring at his crotch, I’m humping him in a frenzy; the friction against my clit causes a tingling sensation that feels so fucking good! The entire bed is shaking, hammering against the wooden floor and the back wall; I start to cry out in rhythm to the pounding. I have the palm of my hands firmly pressed against his chest, pinning him to the bed. ‘Gods woman slow down!’ He pants, looking at me wide eyed. I grin at him and reduce the pace, pushing myself up and onto my haunches, drawing his cock partially out  and then thrusting back down on him, taking him deep in me, letting my entire weight slap against his body, over and over again. ‘Oh fucking hell.’ He cries out, I can see that he doesn’t know where to look. He grabs my hands and pushes himself up so our faces are just inches away. His grabs my bottom, lifting me up then pulling me back down onto him, he starts flicking his tongue over my nipple, pushing me closer to the edge.  ‘Oh sweet Rosalyn, I believe our affiliation is going to be a great one!’ he cries out as I hammer down again; I grab a fistful of his hair and pull him towards my lips, our tongues wrestling, our panting in unison, he’s moaning and groaning and lifting himself off the bed, driving into me. ‘Would it be awfully vulgar of me to come on your lovely face?’ He gasps.

‘Very!’ I scream, I slow my velocity and let him decide on the pace, wrapping one arm around the back of his neck I force our noses together, we’re glaring at each other in shameless desire. I reach between my legs and very quickly flick at my sex, I don’t think Del is going to last much longer and I want to come too; I can feel it building up.

‘Excellent, vulgarity is what I strive for!’ He says this through gritted teeth, I can tell he’s trying to hold off, so I begin meeting his thrusts with my own, making sure to scream as loudly as possible every time our flesh slaps together. ‘And I’m about to strive right now!’ He wraps his hands around my waist flips me onto my back, so hastily that I burst into a fit giggles. He swiftly positions himself on his knees by the side of my face, and with one hand deftly works his shaft and buries the other between my legs, rubbing at my cunt in a craze. His fingers prodding at my small spot of pleasure, I squeeze both my nipples to the point of blissful incitement, I start panting and groaning trying to encourage my orgasm, soon my whole body is tensing and relaxing in throbbing succession. I look back at Del and grin as he lurches forward, his body quaking. A jet of warm white fluid shoots across my face. I open my mouth eagerly, and groan loudly as I rub myself against his fingers, trying to prolong the bliss. His come is still splattering against my face, his own climax a long and strident episode. I lick at the droplets around my mouth, swallowing his salty seed and grinning at his intriguing form with pleasure. He lets out one last cry, and quickly extends his arms behind him, to prevent himself from tumbling backwards. ‘Good show Ros, good show.’ and with that he flops back onto the bed, panting.

I wipe my face with the pillow, removing his seed. I watch as his chest heaves up and down, and his eye lids flicker, not sure on what to say.

He turns his face towards me and smiles. ‘It’s sixty forty.’

‘Sorry?’

‘The split. I get forty percent of everything you earn; of course you can’t start straight away due to your injuries.’ He looks away and shakes his head. ‘Those City Watch cunts need purging.’ His face is sombre for the first time.

I swallow hard, ashamed that he noticed, and distressed that I can’t start earning.

‘Obviously you can stay here in the meantime; an extra pair of hands is always welcome, be it behind the bar or...elsewhere.’ He thrusts his hips, luridly; just to really labour the point.        

‘Thank you.’ I laugh, and shuffling towards him, planting a kiss on his soft lips.

‘No, no dear girl. Thank you.’ He strokes the side of my face with such compassion. I feel my eyes start to flicker, and my brain start to slow. I am on the cusp of sleep, wrapped up in blissfully drowsiness. I don’t want to curse this, but I almost feel safe....             

Interlude

Excellent Fifty Shades of Grey send-up on this blog right here. Definitely worth a read

Chaper Three: Regime

 

Its market day in Vesale, people are everywhere, and in my way shouting their wares, from the finest steal in all of Edora to the ripest fruits. The deafening noise subdued to a background hum, my mind too clouded to relate to such normalities. The heat of the late afternoon sun blares down on me; I’m sweating, trying to keep up with Kalcha’s long strides. I’m yelling at him; completely unbothered by the swarms of people, all glaring at me, judging me. ‘What are you going to do?’ I cry over and over, but he ignores me and keeps his head firmly fixed on the twisting street before him. We’re approaching one of the communal fountains; a group of young boys are screeching and frolicking in its clear waters, their lithe bodies snaking in front of me, blocking me from my task. I fear I may lose sight of Kalcha, but he stands almost a foot higher than most, his sandy head bobbing among the crowds. I firmly push aside one of the boys as he dances in my path giggling, his life a delightful bubble of simplicity.

Kalcha is a man on a mission, his strong arms knocking aside anyone who dares cross his path. I cannot see his face but I know it will be a picture of steely determination. I ponder for a moment if he even knows where his destination is, does he know where Ranril lives? Not that it would be a hard thing to discover, since one can always ask, although I find men are not forthcoming this way.

We pass the herbalists at record speed, nearly knocking over Jessie’s outside display; she scowls at me from the shop archway and folds her portly arms over her chest. I mouth how sorry I am for my blunder, although apparently unconvincingly as her eyes narrow further. The streets are growing tighter as we head deeper into their seedy belly. Chains of drab washing hang from the top of the clay buildings, obscuring the light but maximising the heat, the closeness stifling.  He is heading in the right direction, to the grimy part of town; Ranril is only a menial labourer, he cannot afford luxury. I spy a woman, not much older than me; one slender leg dangling from a first floor window, a sheet poorly concealing her nakedness, our eyes meet only for a split second, but in that second I am painfully aware of her situation, she is neither sad nor contented, she just exists, making her way in this world as best she can, using what the gods gave her to get by; I have more in common with this whore than most. I tear my eyes away from her, embarrassed that she caught me gawking.

Kalcha abruptly stops in his tracks; I just about crash into the back of him, but stop myself before the ungainly collision. ‘Which way?’ He bellows without turning around.

I should lie and send him on a false trail; which may infuriate the brute further and lead to my untimely demise, or perhaps I could calm him down somehow, buy myself some time? I spy two City Watch men; not too far away, arguing animatedly with a ragged vender selling repulsive looking meats, probably rat. If I could get their attention there could be a solution.

‘I asked you a question: which way to his house?’ He asks again, loudly and slowly.

I move swiftly in front of him; and set my face to what I believe is my most heart-rending expression. ‘We can go home, we can talk this through. You needn’t do this.’ My eyes plead with him, although I know it to be most futile. I’m being shouldered and cursed by passer bys for my obstructive presence. But I pay no heed; they are like ghosts to me.

‘The time to talk is over. Tell me where he lives or I shall go in there and find out.’ He points over to a ram shackled building with a flaking sign that reads: The Howling Wanderer, I myself have never ventured into this shoddy looking inn, but then I am not a fan of bandits and rapists. He clearly does not relish the idea; I can’t decide what his deeper reservations are, be it the foreboding looking tavern or asking for directions.

I move closer to him, trying to appeal to his benevolent side. ‘This is silly; come now Kalcha, let us go home.  I truly..’

‘Someone must pay for this impertinence!’

I instinctively reach for my cheek, as it still throbs from where the hard table met my soft flesh, channelled by his heavy hand. ‘I hurt. I am paying now; is this not enough? Why have more blood on your hands?’ I see his eyes soften slightly as he recalls his severity. ‘You have chastised me, and rightfully so. I am yours, thus the entitlement is just. We can go home and you can chastise me further, if you so desire. Spilling another’s blood will achieve nothing.’ The lies fall from my mouth so easily, he has no right over me but I must get him away from this senseless act of destruction.

‘It will make me feel better.’ His glare has gone from menacing executioner to petrified child.

‘Come home. I’ll make you feel better in other ways.’ I whisper, wrapping my arms around his solid torso. I feel his body relaxing and his breathing quietening, but only fleetingly. As he clasps the top of my shoulders and shoves me backward, I crash into something bony and frail, it’s an old woman, her face a clutter of pock marks and grime. She begins striking me, about the face and neck screaming some strange banshee cry. By the time I’ve fought off the crazy hag raven I’ve lost all sight of Kalcha. ‘Shit!’ I spot the City Watch, they have noticed me too and are heading in my direction. I use the crowded streets to my advantage and slip stealthily into the horde.

He’ll be in the tavern, so that is where I must venture.

The stained oak door groans as it opens inwardly. The smell hits me first, a combination of stale ale and puke rushes toward me. Visually the interior fairs even worse, it’s murky so the full extent of the grottyness is muted; however the darkness is no relief from the heat.  I can make out many rickety tables and chairs occupied by many mean looking men; who are all staring at me like hungry wolves eyeing an unwary deer. The room has grown unnaturally quiet due to their full inspection of me, but the menacing cliental soon become disinterested and quickly resume their clamorous drinking. I cannot see Kalcha anywhere and my heart is hammering in my chest. I should not be in here and the thugs surrounding me clearly concur. I make my way towards the bar at the far end of the room, making sure to avoid all eye contact.

‘What’ll it be love?’ The barkeep bellows over the dim, he has a mop of greasy black hair stuck flat to his scalp. And I’m trying my hardest to avoid staring into his deep crevice that was once home to an eye.

‘I’m looking for my husband.’ My eyes dart across the width of the room, searching for his familiar shape.

‘I don’t think there’s any husbands in ‘ere worth finding.’ He grins at me, and reveals a serious lack of dental hygiene.

Before I have time to launch into a full depiction, I catch sight of him at the far end of the bar, he’s talking with a group of men who all dressed in green velvet; a sign of their affiliation with the ranger’s guild; also the bows, the bows are a good sign too. I smile awkwardly at the disfigured taverner and briskly make my way towards my husband.

He narrows his eyes as I approach and he swiftly moves away from the group, almost knocking me over as he shoulders past.

‘Where are you going?’ I ask lamely, reaching out for his arm. 

‘Have I not made this clear woman! I am going to destroy the little bastard that fucked you!’

I sign heavily and run my hand over my sweat covered face. ‘Yes this is abundantly clear, but then what!’ The bar has hushed from our commotion.

A stout middle aged man leans back in his chair and reaches out for my hand. ‘You’ right flower? This man bothering ya?’

I knock it away in disgust. ‘I’m fine, my husband and I are just leaving.’ I tug at the sleeve of his shirt, I do not want to spend another second in this ghastly hovel. ‘Come Kalcha, please let us go home!’ My voice is whiney and I cringe at the tone.

‘Well I’m just saying, if this brute is giving ya any grief  just you come and tell Ol’Tyron. I’ll keep a pretty little thing like you safe, oh yes, no need to worry about that for sure, I’ll keep you safe, yes indeedy.’ The rambling fool is clearly drunk and reeks of piss. He wheezes and immediately embarks on a coughing fit; both Kalcha and I stare at him in appalled disbelief. ‘Oh yes, Ol’Tyron he knows how to please the ladies, he does, yes sirey.’ He continues slurring on in this manner for a few moments more until Kalcha reaches his limit, back hands him and pulls me away from the piss head. This is met with an uproar of hilarity from Ol’Tyron’s table.

Just as Kalcha is leading me from the wolf pit, the sound of a door slamming shut pulls our attention to the rear. Stood swaying in the entrance to, what I imagine, the privy, is a shirt clad yet dishevelled looking Ranril. Icy fingers twist around my spine, breath caught in my throat, it takes all my concentration not to be sick. But it’s been years since Kalcha has laid eyes on him, and with any hope he will not twig. Ranril’s face is turned to the floor and he’s slouching a great deal; he does not look like his usual lovely self. I glance quickly at Kalcha, praying that he does not identify this drunken individual as my lover, his expression does not change; if we leave quickly he’ll be none the wiser.   

‘Ranril you old cock!’ Hollers a young blonde man with a strong North Tasbrien accent. ‘Get your arse over here and finish what you started, you fucking lightweight!’ I have a feeling his cover is blown. Ranril grins in his impish way and stumbles towards the bar stool and his drinking buddy.   

Kalcha is clenching and unclenching his fists, grinding his jaw and giving Ranril the greatest death stare man has ever seen. My whole body is shrouded in panic, I pull on his arm and whisper my pleas, but he cannot hear me, for all his focus is drawn to obliterating Ranril. He shakes me off roughly sending me back a few paces. He’s hurtling across the room at such a pace, before I have time to blink he’s on him, his hand clasped about Ranril’s throat, lifting him a foot off the ground. He looks positively childlike hanging from my husband’s powerful arm, kicking and squirming.

‘Do you know me boy?’ He shouts in his face.

Ranril is trying his hardest to shake his head, but he can barely move from such a resilient embrace. But he manages to splutter. ‘Nnnoo.’

‘Well I believe you know my wife.’ He nods over his shoulder towards me.

 I rush in behind him. ‘Kalcha, stop! This is ridiculous.’ I try pulling at his outstretched  arm, but it will not budge. He shoulders me out of the way and with one powerful heave tosses Ranril to the floor, this sudden violent outburst seems to have sobered him up, his eyes are darting around the room in panic, they eventually settle on me. He seems to have forgotten his impending doom and smiles adoringly at me, I feel myself swoon, much to Kalcha’s displeasure. ‘Get out of here quickly!’ I yell at the sprawled out boy, as I feel the air between Kalcha and me turn rigid with loathing.   

Before he has a chance to shift, Kalcha is bearing down upon him, he has him by the shirt collar and is pummelling his face again and again with his colossal fists, blood is spurting everywhere. The tavern is filled with frantic garbled shouting and the scraping back of chairs. My own voice joins in with the rabble, he is going to kill and probably be killed, someone needs to stop this.

The blonde boy from North Tasbrie has appeared by my side, yelling at me to make him stop. Ranril’s cries sound so distant, he keeps trying to put up his hands to protect his face but it is useless, as Kalcha knocks straight through his weak defence. I can feel the wetness of tears trick down my cheeks, what is happening? A semi circle seems to be forming around the conflict as if this is some form of spectator sport, although it is closer to a fucking execution. Several of the men begin cheering my husband on; while others are clearly contemplating an intervention.

The sound of steel resonating against steel as sword is drawn from scabbard fills the inn, followed by a loud and commanding voice that roars over the din. ‘What is the meaning for this?’ I spin around and I’m faced with the intimidating City Watch. The two men are the same towering height, although the dark skinned Knight is a lot leaner than the older grey haired man, who could be described as thickset. They are both clad in colonial armour with the accustomed crimson cape fastened with the lion broach of House Soren. These men dominate the tavern now, and all has fallen still with anxious anticipation.       

The circle of men begin to slowly fan out, revealing the blood soaked Kalcha and the quivering form of Ranril. Kalcha’s body is heaving, he still has Ranril in his grasp, his arm raised back ready for another blow. He turns his head slowly towards the two knights, but he pays them no heed and sends his fist soaring into the poor boys face; I emit a painful scream.

‘Enough!’ Cries the grey haired Knight, as he and the younger man swiftly move to restrain my demented husband, who does not fight against the arrest; the two of them a match for his great height and strength. ‘I asked a question!’ He shouts again, this time addressing everyone in the room.

‘That you did Ser, well I shall tell thee, yes I shall.’ Slurs Ol’Tyron who has not moved from his seat, he’s leaning right back in his chair balancing dangerously on two legs . ‘This pretty little wench ‘ere as been fucking the brown boy. Blondie ‘ere is ‘er husband and he ain’t too happy about this. So you see he’s extracting revenge, by killing the little rat, see? Now how’s about you let Ol’Tyron take that pretty wench home and extract some.. revenge ... on her nice tight arse, ey? What’d ya say? I say that’s a pretty fucking good idea..’He points and winks and no one in particular, then hiccups loudly. I stare at him in astonishment. Although the two Knights appear to be focusing on me, I feel naked beneath their gaze.

‘A battery and an infidelity. Two very serious felonies’ says the older Knight, his voice level and unhurried; he appears to be smirking at me, drinking me in with his emerald eyes. ‘What do you say Link? We’ll have to charge them both?’ He directs the question to the dark knight, who is all but leering at me, he does not respond to the question; just continues to de-robe me with his dark brooding stare. ‘Someone get this boy to a healer, before he bleeds out.’  The grey haired Knight says detachedly nodding down at Ranril; whose blonde friend immediately takes action. Helping his broken body up and supporting the majority of his weight they shamble across the soiled rushes leaving a trail of blood in their wake.

‘I’m sorry.. I’m sorry.’ I whisper as they pass, I cannot look at his beaten face. This is all my fault.

They pause next to me and Ranril murmurs something almost inaudible, then it hits me. ‘You were not worth this.’ The words repeating over and over in my head. I force myself to look up from the floor. One of his eyes is swollen shut, his nose shattered across his face, his lips engorged to bursting point. Blood, so much blood. His one good eye studies me for a moment, and in that moment I can feel all his pain and hatred, and it is all directed at me. I wish I were dead. I fall to my knees and begin to weep.

 I feel strong hands around the tops of my arms, pulling me to my feet. Through the tears I see the blurry image of the dark Knight named Link. He’s smiling at me, which I do not find reassuring.

‘We need to teach you a thing or two about regime.’ The grey Knight utters. ‘And how one cannot simply disregard it.’ He nods towards the back of the tavern, and Link begins steering me in that direction.

At this point Kalcha begins struggling against his capture. ‘Leave her alone! You touch one hair on her head and I will fucking kill you, you hear me!’ Before he can free himself the grey knight brings the pommel of his sword crashing down onto his skull, Kalcha crumples to the floor like discarded parchment. I scream at the men and curse their existence; I try to struggle free from Link’s firm grasp but it is no use. All the other men in the tavern seem to overlook this new development, their raucous banter has begun again and their interest in my troubles forgotten, besides who in their right mind would take on two armed Knights of the City Watch?

‘Come quietly. Let us not have any more trouble hm?’ Says the grey Knight. As he moves around Kalcha’s still body he kicks him in the gut for good measure, I wince from the thudding blow.

‘Now, my good Ser Knights you’ll let Ol’Tyron have a go on that when you’re done won’t ya ey? From what I’ve ‘erd you City Watch are a sharing bunch, so you won’t mind me having a turn will ya? That’s good a’ya. Glad we’ve come to an arrangement.’ Tyron is leaning very far back in his chair, thankfully the drunken imbecile looses balances and tumbles backwards, he lays there, on his back with a stupid grin spread across his common face. ‘That’s good a’ya.’ He seems oblivious to his new position. The Knights ignore his remark.     

The grey Knight barges behind the bar, and shoulders open a door leading into a poorly lit room. ‘This’ll do.’ He raises his eyebrows several times at Link and smirks.

Once inside Link closes the door and the grey Knight makes his way over to a tattered sleeping pallet. He flops down onto it and props himself up into a sitting position, his back against the wall. There are no windows, but a dingy glow is emitted from three sconces that are fixed to the wall. There is a table and an unlit hearth with a cooking pot hanging over it, the rest of the room is empty.

Link stands by the door, motionless. Even with my back to him I know that his eyes are boring into me. The room is stifling yet I cannot escape a cold chill; that runs right through my core. I wrap my arms around my chest; hugging myself tightly.  

‘Should we skip the interrogation and get straight to the point?’ The grey Knight asks, his expression neither cruel nor gentle. ‘Unless you have any urgent queries Link?..No? Thought not.’ he looks back to me his face a blank canvass. ‘Take off your clothes.’

‘Sorry?’ I stutter.

‘You heard me, take...off....your...clothes.’ He pronounces each word so fluently, almost gently.

I turn around to look at Link, he’s leaning in the door way as if this is the most casual of events, he holds out his hand, encouraging me to conform. His face is also unreadable.

‘Don’t look at him, look at me.. Always look at me.’ Even in the gloom his eyes are hypnotising.

I know I have no option, it is simple, I must obey. I discard my knapsack and begin unbuttoning my blouse, my hands are shaking which makes the task almost unachievable but I fumble slowly down the line of buttons and slide the loose shirt from my shoulders; watching it unfold around my sandaled feet. In my hurry changing back at the house I neglected to don undergarments, so my breasts are fully revealed, I cross my arms in front of myself for some reason, perhaps shame? Or maybe a reaction to being exposed to a stranger? My chest feels sticky with sweat.

‘Don’t do that.’ His tone sounds like a displeased teacher. ‘And look at me, not at the floor, do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good girl.’ He nods his liking. ‘Continue.’

I unbuckle my belt and wiggle out of my linen britches, all the while keeping my eyes firmly fixed on him; he has not yet looked away from my face. He seems oblivious to my nakedness. Finally I kick off my sandals, and stand there awaiting further instruction. I hear Link exhale noisily from behind me.

‘Very nice, wouldn’t you agree Link?’ He does not break our intent look. ‘Now get on all fours and crawl to me.’

Without hesitation, as if in a trance, I lower myself to my knees, bend forward and begin crawling to him, our eyes still piercing each other.

‘Slower.’ He commands, without raising his voice.

I slow down, and begin to exaggerate the swaying of my shoulders, causing my tits to quiver. I bite my lip and find myself wondering about the shape of his cock.

‘Spread your knees further so Link can see your pussy.’ He leans forward and rests his elbows on his thighs. I do as I’m told and Link lets out a throaty chuckle, I take this as praise and wiggle my hips in response, so he can witness the trembling of my buttocks. ‘What do you think?’ He’s looking at me but I believe the question is directed behind, I am dying to know of his reply, am I pleasing to him?

I’m almost there, just a few more feet and I can feel his touch, oh gods how I long to feel his touch. There is something about those eyes, the way he penetrates me, as if he knows me, as if he comprehends my very soul.

‘Stop.’ He commands. He’s still leaning forward, still staring. I pause; this is cruel I’m so nearly there, I whimper from the frustration. This causes the grey knight to laugh, a floating rich sound; his face transformed into a dazzling beacon. ‘Get involved anytime you’re ready pal.’ His eyes still on me. I can hear the sound of steel clattering onto wood; I imagine Link is removing his armour. ‘What’s your name?’ He asks his face still smiling.

‘Rosalyn.’ I  stammer.

‘Rosalyn.’ He repeats it gently in his opulent tone, I have never enjoyed the sound of my name so much. ‘That’s beautiful.’ I want to devour this man.

I can hear Link striding across the room, positioning himself behind me on his knees, I can feel the heat of his groin radiating against my arse. His rough hand stroking the length of my back, stopping just short of my spread buttocks. My whole body tenses.

‘Relax Rosalyn, trust me. Link is, shall we say, hung like a fucking horse? If your body resists it will cause you great pain.’ The way he says this, so steadily so calmly, as if instructing a nervous pupil. I’m still on all fours, Link is stroking my back, the front of his sweaty thighs pressed against the back of mine, yet I’m staring longingly at the Knight in-front of me. ‘Make her wet.’ This is delivered as an order. Link stops caressing my back, I hear him spit twice, then he slides his wet hand gently between my open legs. Instinctively I jerk forward, trying to forbear his touch. ‘No, don’t do that.’ The grey Knight shakes his head disappointedly, and I’m immediately filled with remorse. 

‘Sorry.’ I gasp, the idea of displeasing him fills me with dread.

‘Don’t be sorry. Just do as you’re told, let Link stroke your pussy till it’s dripping.’

I nod and swallow loudly, pushing myself back onto his waiting hand. His touch is surprisingly soft, and very skilled. He has gone straight for my clit, he very gently circles around it with two fingers , the tingling sensation growing, I moan with satisfaction. The pressure he is exacting is so delicate yet the results are immense. I close my eyes and let the sensitivity swallow me. ‘You’ve looked away Rosalyn.’ His voice dripped in disappointment. ‘Didn’t I say for you to look at me? For you to always look at me?’ A shake of his head. ‘You know what to do Link.’ The dark knight withdraws his hand from my sex, I whine from the sudden lack of lustful sensations. His heavy palm comes crashing down against the flesh of my arse with such might, the sound of skin being brutally struck  perforates the still air, I scream out, just as much from shock as from the searing pain. ‘You do that again and it’s the belt. A third time and it’s the sword. Understood?’ The promise delivered without a hint of malice.

I nod my understanding, trying to blink away tears and hold his stare at the same time.

‘Good; continue.’ He leans back against the wall, and crosses his big arms in-front of his chest.

Link pushes his index finger deep inside me; when he pulls it out it’s dripping with my juices. He uses the dampness to stimulate my whole cunt with a cupped hand. I groan again indicating my growing desire. He chuckles, the sound produced from his throat; the only noise I have heard him make. He speeds up the rubbing to the point of frenzy, slapping at my pussy and quietly laughing; the sound of his hand striking against my soaking cunt a sheer sign that he has fulfilled the grey knight’s order. I notice a wicked smile spread across his weathered features. ‘You want him to fuck you, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ I gasp, absorbed in his mesmerizing eyes.

‘Remember what I said. Relax, you don’t want to get hurt.’ He cares for me; he does not want me to suffer, he is so kind.

Link slowly draws his hand out from between my legs and places it on my hip, pulling me back gently. He shuffles forward on his knees until his cock is pressed against my waiting sex. The girth of the tip alone is enough to fulfil. I open my eyes wide, suddenly aware of the gigantic charge that lies ahead.

The grey knight laughs. ‘I am not one to embellish.’

Link slowly commences pushing his giant cock into my tight pussy, I bite my lip hard to stop from crying out, instead I yield to an animalistic squeal. Every fibre of my being screaming to wrench away, but I cannot; my concentration fully on the grey Knight and my refusal to violate his wishes. I’m panting and sweat is dripping from my brow as Link pushes inch upon inch of his throbbing man hood inside me. The grey knight’s eyes are smiling, reassuring me that everything will be ok. Link grunts roughly as he shunts further into me. I’m letting out a long continuous moan, its pitch gradually getting higher.

‘How does it feel, hm? Tell me?’ He’s leaning forward again, his eyes in great need of my reply.

I cannot form a coherent answer. I’m screaming nonsense at the top of my lungs. Finally I feel Link’s bare thighs slap against my rear, his full length is inside me. It brings tears of pain and ecstasy to my eyes. I’m panting like a bitch in heat and my brain does not work, I cannot even remember my fucking name.

‘Talk to me Rosalyn, I need details.’ He’s clicking his fingers at me, as if ushering a response, but all I can think is, who the hell is Rosalyn?

Link withdraws his colossal cock very slowly and I gasp from the relief; immediately he pushes back into me, sounding a deep yell; I retort with my own scream. Over and over again he’s  plunging into me, knocking the air from my lungs with every thrust, I am so lightheaded I think I’m going to collapse. My eyes long to disappear into the back of my skull but I fight against the urge, holding my green eyed Knight firmly in my sights, his smile a sign of his satisfaction. 

‘You like it don’t you? You like being fucked by a monster.’

‘Y..Ye...Yes!’ I cry, basking in the green pools. Such beautiful eyes. My thighs are drenched with my fluids, every shove of his humongous cock encouraging the flow. Link leans forward and takes my breast in his hand, he kneads it very tenderly between thumb and fingers. He gentle encourages my body to rise up and onto my haunches. My back pressed against his hot sticky chest. He buries his face into my neck, and the heat is overwhelming. His free hand is firmly on my hip. I begin grinding backwards on him, encouraging his member further into my dripping hole. He greets my gyrating with forceful thrusts, an exceedingly rapid yet small movement; the feel of him inside me enough to send my brain into a fever, we’re humping like deranged animals, a panting, sweating writhing beast. Link is the one fucking me but the other is the one is inside my head, his eyes so fucking intense. The line between the physical and the cerebral no longer exist for me.         

‘Good girl.’ My emerald Knight says slowly and breathlessly. ‘Let me see you come. I want to hear you scream down this fucking building!’ His voice raised for the first time, how can I not obey such a commanding being?

I slide my hand between my legs and begin rubbing at my swollen clitoris manically. I am so very close, the tidal wave of extreme pleasure moments away, but I do not want this to end, the feel of Link’s enormous cock inside me and this man’s beautiful eyes inside my head are a combination of utter bliss.

‘You’re nearly there Rosalyn. That’s right, play with your fucking dripping pussy, make yourself come. I want to hear you squeal, I want to see you writhing with pleasure on top of that beast. Can you do that for me?’ His eyes so eager for me to respond.

‘I can, I will, I’m so....’ I completely lose my mind, I fall forward onto the wooden floor boards, my whole body convulsing in a fit of pleasure and confusion, I feel as though I’m being electrocuted, shock after delicious shock pulsing through me. Link has both his hands on my buttocks pulling them further apart, he’s up on his feet in a crouching position, drilling into me with relenting vigour his cock reaching new places, places that have been hidden until now. I have no breath in my lungs, the floor is spinning, I fight to gain control but it is lost. My world has become a giant blur, consumed by  the sound of violent grunting.      

Several moments pass until I come too. I try to push myself up off the floor, but my arms feel too weak. My hair has fallen over my face so I am unaware of the Knights whereabouts.

‘Oh sweet Rosalyn, you were so close to succeeding.’ It’s my green eyed Knight. Judging by the direction of his voice he has not moved from the pallet.

I muster what strength I have remaining, and push myself up into a sitting position to meet his gaze. ‘I don’t understand.’ I look at him in confusion and dread at the idea of displeasing him.

‘You looked away. We need you to recognize our regime as reality, but your insolence prevents you.’ His voice is calm like still waters. ‘I’m afraid you leave me with little choice, Link bring me the belt.’ For the first time I witness real lust blazing in his eyes, like pools of green fire. This is his true desire, and I welcome it gladly.