The nation of Kray’agen was a motley mix of various islands in the ocean, a beautiful tropical region that was lush green and fertile. A rich and prosperous area, the rigid aristocracy controlled the peasantry and serfs, ensuring that wealth never left the hands of the already affluent.

The local temple of one of the more agricultural regions was built atop what was once a volcanic opening in the world’s crust. A large stone dome that was crafted from solid volcanic lava so old that its source could never be apparent. The worshipers held fast to the old ways, despite the modern pressure of new beliefs and lack of trust in the Infernals.

The volcano it was originally built on was gone; however the design of the building left it a pocket of scorching heat, the inside of it as hot as an oven in keeping with tradition. Priests and acolytes sweated, sacrificed and prayed in the excruciating heat, day and night. It was not a particularly large temple and staffed relatively few, especially since the death of the former high priest had left it without any official master to tend to it.

The current administrator was a man who, until recently, was the groundskeeper of the temple. Not a religious man himself, he had the appearance of a tall, virile male. Grie had skin the colour of charcoal, eyes bright red and exotically shaped, with a lightly bulked musculature, giving him a rather powerfully masculine look. Two curved ram-horns stood out on either side of his head, and he sported angled back legs of his race like a pure-blood satyr that he was descended from, with pitch hooves. From around his horns came long, sleek black hair that then spilled around his shoulders.

At the back of the temple, he stood at one of the large sliding doors, looking out over the green and luscious garden he had spent so much time tending. Wearing one of the traditional outfits of the locals, a black and white one-piece robe that ended at the knees and tied about the waist, he kept it off his shoulders, hanging around his waist. It was the way he and most of the labourers wore it due to the heat, and a sign of his status as a lowly peasant in breeding, despite the auspicious role he now filled.

With the death of the high priest, there were no clergy for their dying faith to take over. They were officially on wait for more, but they were just another temple among hundreds that needed new priests that simply didn’t exist. The only other religiously trained people at the temple were the young students, and some workers–like himself–who had the barest of indoctrinations.

He mightn’t have been a religious man, but it was up to him to herd the last remaining few students and keep up the temple, at least for appearances sake.

Ilithya was a punctual girl just passing the cusp of womanhood; bright faced, with auburn haired, her flesh a smooth sandy colour and striking blue eyes. One of the many mixed breeds that filled the world, she had a look of exotic beauty, with a lovely pair of reddish brown wings that were as carefully preened as the rest of her.

Her approach was light on her feet, several bats of her wings keeping her somewhat lofted as she met with her new instructor.

Grie’s lightly pointed ears caught her approach and he turned around, hard hooves scraping on the volcanic stone flooring, arms folded across his dark, bare chest. “Alum-ka’vey,” he said in the traditional greeting of the temple, “you are punctual as always, acolyte Ilithya.” He wasn’t a very cheerful or emotive man, famed for his stoic reserve as he diligently went about his task of keeping the grounds in its tip-top shape.

The original dwellers of the island and its worshippers here were like the two of them, their blood and ancestry extending back to the ancient times. They were fitting inhabitants of the old and rarely used structure, even if their rankings and training didn’t quite fit them to it.

“I trust,” he began in his deep voice, a low sound that bespoke of his infernal heritage with its otherworldly edge, “you have given your prayers and made blood offering, if there was any to give.”

“Of course,” she responded in that girlish whisper of a voice. The way the girl held herself together it was obvious that, no matter how loudly she spoke, others would cling to her words. Ilithya gave him another low bow, her eyes tilted towards him, her auburn hair spilling in long, loose curls over her shoulders.

Turning back around, he gestured outside, “Come.”

He was quite tall, about seven feet in height, making him tower over most men, his hooves equally large, and made a loud sound as he took each step down to the grass below to the flower gardens outside.

She had hesitated to follow him out; leaving the temple for religious matters most unusual, but she was obedient enough not to linger behind him long. Catching up to him on her feathered wings, she settled her feet into the grass behind him, her arms lightly on her hips as she watched him.

“Your training is not yet complete, acolyte, but there is no replacement coming to take over. None available to take you on at this time either,” he stated in that infernal pitched voice, peering back at her.

“I understand,” her eerie blue eyes watched him carefully. She wasn’t as uncomfortable in the heat as he, though her body still held the tell tale shine of the inner temple, drawing more attention to her prominent cheekbones and the smooth curves of her legs.

Looking down at her, he unfurled his arms from across his chest, his shiny obsidian nails–neatly curving to points–showing for a moment before he clasped his large hands behind his back. When he spoke his dark lips gave way to show silverish-white fanged teeth, “You’re a competent woman, however, trained in the arts of the infernal. The priest had seen to your training in the essential forms, and all you had left were years of study in the esoteric nuance of the theological world. This is fortunate,” he said, pursing his lips and nodding, “for though it was a loss either way, your more practical skills and knowledge will serve you better as you seek out further enlightenment.”

“I live to serve,” she confirmed, a coyness to the words. She enjoyed the work within the temple, and had a real knack for it. She had a low body weight and the heat didn’t bother her so much, and all of the work came naturally to her with very little study or practice, but for the more extreme and taboo. She looked over his face, her head tilting thoughtfully, “Did you have something you required?”

He inclined his head to her slowly, “I have tasks for you. Many of them will not be in the nature of what the high priest would have delegated, but I have worked here for many long years and learned more than most would credit me for.” He peered up at a statue made of ebon volcanic stone of some infernal ancient goddess writhing in some carnal bliss.

Or the bliss of carnage; it was the same to the Infernals.

“You are a blessed one, your performance never failed to please and excite the hopes of the former high priest,” he said, that same imposing gaze somehow transmitting his approval, “he stayed up late after many a ritual to tell me of how proud he was of his apprentice, and his hopes for you.”

Her lips curled a little bit, pleased with the revelation and she took the praise with the grace and poise of a woman that was used to being appreciated, “Thank you, Temple Master.”

She followed after him rather closely, leaving an almost ethereal trail of feathers behind her.

“I can not teach you the names of the hundreds of theologians down through the millennia who thought on the Infernals, and their lessons. But I can pass on some of their wisdom. I know our rituals by heart, through long years of studying them, and I can aid you with those too, in all manners. And,” he said, turning down a corner in the hedge maze, the ripe scent of fruit and nectar in the air, “more important than that, when all is said and done, I hold the authority to make you a priestess of this temple, if not of the Order in its entirety.”

Her little ears perked up at his words, her spine straightening, as if she were already being bestowed such a grand title, “I would do anything to make it so, Temple Master.”

“I know you would,” he said with confidence, “you are a true child of the infernal, Ilithya. And you deserve to be the priestess of this temple, even should that mean you be the last to grace it so. Especially should you be the last, I think. Most fitting the last priestess be the finest to have come upon it in long memory.”

She smiled as she bowed her head, “With all due respect, Temple Master, I believe that were I in a position to do so, I could and would spread the faith and have it touch all once more, as it did in the old times,” she glanced up at him, just with her eyes, her hair framing her face, “I would do all I may to restore the faith to our people.”

Coming to a slow halt at a small fountain in the midst of the hedges, he turned upon his heavy hooves to look down at her, offering a rare smile to her. “The former high priest did not even dare to think as much, young acolyte. You truly are worthy of the position, dreaming so. Yes. You are precisely what the temple needs in these times.”

“Without the faithful,” she said in that soft, breezy voice, “the faith falls. I do not want it to die with me, and I’ll make it so it continues after I pass. I don’t see the point in dreaming small. Those that dream small achieve the same.”

He gave a light chuckle, something so low, deep and otherworldly one might swear he’d spew flames like an infernal immortal at any moment with the act. Reaching a hand out, he lightly touches her head with a pat, “Well said. On that, we think much alike.”

“As per your training, I will broaden your horizons, Acolyte. And show you more of the world beyond. Only like that might you hope to accomplish some of your goal.

“You will start off slowly. I will send you into the town to watch the people. Then you will return from studying them, their ways and how they live, to discuss with me what you have learned. We will determine how best you are to approach them. Then ultimately,” he said, peering back at her with his crimson gaze, “do acts of charity and faith that will win them over and bring them to us to revel in the faith of the Infernals.”

“And what if they approach me? How am I to proceed?”

“Act to the best of your abilities. You have learned much in your time here. Some of which will not appeal on its surface to the people, not to win them over. Your average peasant or serf will not be won over by notions of ritual and sacrifice. But you have learned other things while here that will appeal to them. The Passions of the Flame, for one.”

Ilithya nodded. Though she’d never attended a Passion of the Flame ceremony, she knew well of them. Carnal bliss. It would soon serve as her rite of passage. “Of course. I’ll be sure to instruct all in the benefits of the faith as they may see them,” she purred, for a moment playing with him in the most adult manner before returning to the visage of the devout girl.

The towering groundskeeper noted her look of adult mischief, and there was a slight glint of something in return in his eyes, “But for now, learning the ways and situations of the people. You can’t hope to convince them of something if you don’t know how to speak to them in a language that really grasps at them. Not everyone will be moved by the same pleas.”

“It is our solemn duty to bring others to our faith. If others aren’t being brought into our folds, then it’s our own failure,” she agreed.

His gaze was unflinching until finally a slight smile rose on his charcoal coloured face. He reached a hand out to her head, resting his large palm upon her crown as he spoke. “You are correct, acolyte. The temple has lost the dedication of the people because it is not dedicated to the people. Without even beginning your observations, you know much.”

She bowed her head tenderly, “Thank you.”

Turning his gaze back upon her he paused a moment, “I will send you out at first to observe and learn. You will take a basket of flowers grown here, dispense them to the people you see. If some offer donations, accept them and invite them to come to the temple for solace or guidance should they need it.”

“Of course, Temple Master,” she paused in a thoughtful manner, “When shall I go, then?”

He unfurled his arms from across his bare chest, “As soon as you are prepared to go, come see me in the flower gardens. I will give you the basket of flowers to hand out, acolyte. I place the rest in your capable hands.”

~~

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The Keep - Fantasy Fiction - Now with More Sex!

Potential Trigger Warnings.

It was an hour or two after day break. The light outside was bright, the time of day that even sheltered vampires found themselves weakened. She finally heard the faint sounds of his return, the hatch opening cautiously and revealing him to be standing back a safe distance.

Her eyes rose to him expectantly, bounds broken, her body curled up near the stone. Her posture and expression was lilted and lazy, her eyes a bit blurred with lack of sleep, but there were nicks and scrapes on her hands. She had struggled to find a way out, but feeling the bite of hunger and the vengefulness of the sun, she’d relented.

Hand hidden beneath his robes, spell readied in his palm, he stepped down into the dimly lit room. A lantern was clutched in his exposed hand as he quietly shut the hatch above. His footsteps were cautious as he stared at her sullen form, studying her. “I lied about the food. I’m not willing to sacrifice one of my guests for your pleasure. They’re good people, young and hopeful.”

“Not starving isn’t exactly the same as pleasure,” she contested, holding her ruby eyes on his, “And it needn’t be a sacrifice. Hell, more zan a few times zey’ve been far more pleasured than I,” she smirked, slumping back against the wall. “Just a few minutes with one of zem and zey’ll be feeling fine. Better zhan fine,” she licked over her lips, before tracing her eyes over his body and posture. Hau’glin simply shook his head.

“Vat do you think I’m going to do, ah? Break your neck and make a dash into the beautiful sunlight?”

Hau’glin gave a wry, almost sullen, smile to her. “Finish your job, perhaps? Or have you forgotten why you are here?”

She grinned in response, her expression almost cheerily, “Ah, I’d hoped you’d forgotten that,” she bit her lips, her eyes widening in a flirtatious manner that contrasted with her words.

He placed the lantern down on the table, near the heat-stone before stepping in nearer to her. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen one of your kind. Long since one of you has dared show your face in front of me without an army of slaves between us.” Anger roiled beneath his composed visage, his dislike for her people breathing fire into the words.

“Vat can I say. It’s zo hard to find good help now a day. And armies are zo expensive,” her words had their own edge, mixing with that wry little grin. He noted her confidence, her flirtatious behaviour. He wasn’t unaffected by her charms, but that well of anger kept him from acknowledging such things.

As quickly as she blinked, he’d shot out his free hand, her neck grasped directly beneath her jaw in that powerful grip, her eyes bulging in surprise as he tightened his fingers around that slender stalk of a throat.

Her back arched and her body shifted so that her neck was not totally choked off, her eyes turning hard, “No need,” she said, her voice hard. Vampires didn’t have a real need to breath, but it was a difficult habit to break, even after all these years.

Some long suppressed rage smouldered beneath his dark eyes as they narrowed at her. “I stopped my crusade against your lot long before I had my fair share of vengeance,” he muttered to her darkly, looming over her form, long dagger-like claws pinching out against her neck as they grew from his hands just slightly, “everyone I ever knew dead. And still you haunt me. As if you wish me to go back to slaughtering you until none are left.”

She winced a little at the claws, but there was no empathy in her gaze. Her tongue poked out and touching to her top lip, “Zey von’t stop. Vhy should you?” she choked out.

His rage was halted for a fleeting second; it was his turn to be surprised. Barely a heartbeat had passed before his grip on her neck tightened.

“You may have seen me with my guests,” he hissed through his own fangs with anger, “but I don’t reserve those kinds of soft feelings for murderers of the innocent.” He snatched out his other hand, grabbing for her black top, tearing it open with one sharp yank to reveal a tight bra clinging to her bust just as black as the silken cloth. It held a practical purpose, rather than seduction, harnessing her breasts to her chest, as if they were bandaged down.

Her laugh was garbled by the tightness of his hand around her throat, but even as her body jerked from his force, her eyes sparkled at him. She had misread him so much, the warnings her boss had given her having fallen on disinterested ears. When stalking him, he had seemed so passive and well adjusted. It had been a vital error on her part to assume that he’d been helpless as well.

He clawed at her flesh as he bared her to him. Jamming her head back to the table, he jabbed a finger into her naked skin, just above her heart as his upper lip curled just so, his lips pulling back in the beginning of a snarl that didn’t fully form. He pricked her with the sharp tip, “I could carve out your heart and feed it to the poor innocents upstairs, leech.” His breathing was hot and heavy against her skin, lunged up against her so closely as he was.

“Assuming ve have hearts,” she sneered.

Narrowing his eyes at her stubborn defiance, he twisted his finger into her, enough to draw dark blood from her onyx skin before he drew the elongated claw down the center of her chest. The sharp edge sawed through her bra with a brief pause before moving across her stomach.

She snarled as the tightness of her bra was cut away, her full upper form revealed to be much more impressive than it had looked in her full assassin’s gear. Her torso twisted under her assault, her fully rounded bust jiggling on top of her small ribs as she gave the first sign of a struggle.

The delightful present she held pressed beneath her clothing managed to steal his focus for another surprised moment. Even in his rage he couldn’t help but find himself transfixed upon her breasts. Perhaps it was the long seclusion at work. She squirmed beneath him, bringing him back to reality and his dark eyes shot back to hers. His hair and face shimmered almost silver in the pale light of the lantern, leaving him looking almost lupine before her as he snarled.

“Why do you taunt me? Do you yearn for death, parasite? Is that it? Do your memories haunt you that much?”

She tried to shift away from his anger. From her body it was easy to guess she wasn’t more than her late teens when she was turned, though it was notoriously difficult to tell with the dark elves. “Taunt you?” she let out a coarse bark, “You’ve obviously not been taunted by the overlords in a long time if you think zis is how zey’d do things!”

His hand at her neck, he pushed her back up over the table, “You know all about that, I suppose,” he nearly hissed, “how they taunt and take their sick pleasures upon victims and their families.”

“You can’t blame me for doing my job,” she crooned softly, trying to seduce him with her charms once more as her dark brown hair slowly fell out of her ponytail, her bangs pushed to the side above her ruby eyes. Her eyebrows pinched at the middle and her throat was quickly becoming raw with his force, words barely making it past the obstruction.

His eyes shot to hers, hardening, “When it’s being a murderer, I most definitely can,” he said, his words coming out on the brink of a snarl. “When I killed your kind it was in retaliation. Protection,” he sucked his front teeth, giving the impression that he was about to bite into and devour her flesh. “A job?” he sneered, “Really?”

There was no desire for pity or forgiveness in her hard, red eyes, “I wasn’t born,” she struggled out, moving to make room to talk, “zis way.”

Seemingly startled by her choking, he lightened up his grasp upon her, blinking as if surprised by his actions. Furrowing his brow he stared down at her, “Were you made by them, into this, just to be their assassin?”

She stared at him, that same, even stare, “Not ‘just’ to be zhere assassin. But vould you ask many questions,” she paused, shifting a bit, “if you vere me?” Her smirk returned. It was a small, almost shy action.

Pausing to consider her words, he finally loosened his grasp upon her throat, releasing her entirely and pulling back, no longer lunged over top of her, but looming at a more comfortable distance. Gesturing to her top he said, “I’m sorry I–” then caught himself, shaking his head a little, “I didn’t mean to get so carried away. Your kind just…” he faded off there, the effect ‘her kind’ had on him quite apparent.

She leaned back again, relaxing once more, her hand going to her throat and petting it, not seeming bothered by the blood dribbling at her chest. She let out a slow exhalation of dead air, “Yea, vell,” she swallowed, clearing her throat, “If I caught an assassin, I’d do vorse. So don’t beat yourself up.”

Though it hadn’t bothered him last night, with her true nature unhinging him somewhat, her cocksure behaviour did trouble him some. He narrowed his eyes at her, studying her half naked form with an intense curiosity. “Knowing your kind, I have no doubt of that,” he stated bluntly.

He pulled his hands back inside his old grey cloak, “I’ll leave you here a bit longer. I said I’d give you time before I left, and I mean it.” Licking along his lips, and over his own fangs, he added, “Perhaps it might please you to know I’m contemplating letting your compatriots come for me so that I can finish them off before I leave.”

She shrugged after a long pause, her ruby eyes moving back towards the black heated stone, “If they vere watching me, they’d likely be planning on killing me soon anyways,” she said with no hint of angst. She was still confident that she’d get out of this mess.

Studying her stoically for a moment before backing away, he climbed back up the steps, “Then you’re safest here,” he stated, leaving the lantern with her before disappearing out of the hatch once more.

~~

If you enjoyed this, please think about purchasing it on Smashwords or Amazon. As well, reviews and word of mouth would be appreciated! New posts posted every Wednesday, and should we get a large amount in donations, we’ll be posting story parts more frequently.

The Keep - Fantasy Fiction - Now with More Sex!

The city was in the middle of a desert, large buildings cutting off the horizon in one direction and sand as far as one could see in every other. The market place was quaint and there were already a few early risers hawking wares, though relatively few whores compared to the evening before.

Two members of his crew were sitting and smoking while playing a game of cards as he approached the zeppelin dock. The female was the taller of the two with long brown hair and dark skin, a fiery woman, proud and boisterous, especially when drinking. The smaller man was, by no means, small, but compared to her he was thin and gaunt with papery white skin and dark black hair that reached past his neck.

Thumbs still in his belt, he jangled with each step closer to them, “What’s the story, morning glories?”

Arrant nodded to him respectfully, “Can’t work without the parts,” she said loudly before stuffed the cigar back in her mouth.

Garnt filled in the blanks for her, “The shipment we need won’t be in ’til noon,” he shrugged, in an apologetic manner before playing his hand of cards, “We did all we could with what we had.”

“Alright,” he responded, though he wasn’t pleased with it. The evening delight, however, perked him enough not to be cruel about it. Looking at the cigar in the woman’s mouth, his own desire was struck. Reaching into a pocket he plucked out one of his own, stepping in close and holding it out for a light which Garnt quickly offered.

“Well,” he began slowly, “I trust you two to see to this. I’ll check in on you in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll see about ensuring we’ve got some investment and cargo to take back with us once it’s all up and running again.”

Both understood his orders and intentions even before he voiced them. They had been under his employ for years, and the small crew worked well together.

Jren popped the cigar into his mouth, rolling it to the corner as he began to puff on it lightly. “Very well you two. If anything comes up that needs my attention, I’m staying at the Lajulian Rose, so leave a message for me there. Otherwise, I’ll be off making sure our next pay off is a fat one.” He turned and began to walk off, a hand raised over his shoulder to the pair in a silent farewell.

The streets were familiar to him after so many years of dealing his business here, and he moved towards the jewellery store along the most direct path. He was one of their biggest suppliers and Celestia, the manager, was a fairly well to do woman. For a non-immortal human, she was practically royalty in this city.

His clothes held their newly bought lustre, having spent most of his time in the air or away instead of on the dirty sand of the land here, so he looked quite upper crust as he made his way on in through the heavy, wooden door.

It was a rather large shop, with glass cases stood up everywhere, displaying extravagant necklaces and bracelets, the light specially pointed to make sure they sparkled as much as possible. All three of the employees were dressed in rather well to do clothing, their hair all expertly coifed.

The woman on his right caught his immediate attention. A bright faced elven woman with angular features that contrasted with the happy smile she gave him, “Welcome to Demoitre’s!” He recognized her from previous trips to the city, and even though Celestia was giving him an unpleasant look over from the other side of the room, he couldn’t resist Janite’s cheerful greeting.

“And what a lovely welcome it is!” he declared, moving on up to the counter next to her. Tracing his fingertips along the edge of the glass, “Might I say, you sparkle almost as brightly as the jewels you do sell, madam.” He punctuated that statement with a tap of his fingers on the glass ever so gently.

She laughed, haughtily, her hand flittering to the white blouse of her outfit in a practiced, noble manner, “Oh, you,” she flushed, looking down at the glass case she stood by where the expensive, beautiful necklace sparkled in the light, “Is there a special woman you’re shopping for today?”

Pulling back from the counter a bit, he gave her a curious, nearly incredulous once over, “Are you propositioning me, madam?” His expression melted a bit into a good natured smile, some white teeth breathing through the soft lips, “If so, I should warn you: I am quite susceptible to the come-ons of beautiful women.”

Janite returned his smile, her sharp cheeks raising in a teasing manner, “I wouldn’t refuse this right here,” she said, motioning to the necklace, “from any man so charming as you,” she said in a amiable tone.

Puckering his lips a little, he gave a soft “oooh,” sound as he looked at the necklace she pointed at before raising his azure eyes back to her. Tracing his gloved finger tip around the necklace on the glass he leaned towards her, “How exquisite,” he declared, “both the necklace and the woman that should be wearing it at this very moment. And how much is that then, hm?”

She was enthusiastic at his request for a price, eagerly naming the amount. “It’s actually marked down for a limited time sale. You’re in good fortune to have checked in today,” her hand instinctively traced along the hollow of her throat where the necklace would lay. A sales woman through and through, she had a tendency to come on a little strong.

He tilted his head a bit as he watched her hand trace along her neck, his eyelids descending. “My my, aren’t you the sly saleswoman,” he managed out softly. Raising a hand, he wagged his finger at her, “You are too good, madam.”

He flashed a grin, “I’d say I should keep my eye upon you, but I fear that might be the problem. I can see why you work here. This shop must owe you quite a lot in commissions.”

Her eyelashes fluttered down modestly, her head shaking, “Oh, you’re being too kind,” she purred, holding onto as much kindness as she could muster, “Would you like some time to think it over? We’re open until five this evening, though I’ll be out for lunch for an hour. I cannot hold it for you, though, so if another is more interested in it and ready to purchase, I’ll have course have to take the sale.”

Smiling at her he leaned both hands upon the glass counter, “Of course, but,” he paused, “how would you like to join me for that hour then? I’m sure you could help me come to my conclusion. As convincing a sales woman as you are, I’d be surprised if you couldn’t make me see the merits in doing so, truthfully,” he flashed that charming smile at her, tracing his finger around the outline of the necklace again.

Her expression fell, uncertainty creasing the lines in her face. “Well,” she drawled out the word before giving a brief glance to the two other clerks, “I’m sure I could give you more information on the cut, at the very least, if you like.”

Pursing his lips he smiled and nodded to her, “Jren Shimmerdart. Captain of the Shimmerdart, and proprietor of Shimmerdart Imports/Exports. And I shall see you at lunch, miss…?” He tilted his head a bit, looking to her expectantly with a light bat of his own lashes, handsomely devious.

“Janite Crux. I’ll be leaving at noon,” she said, looking him over with a mixture of interest and confusion.

His dapper clothes, in such fine condition–and obviously exquisitely pricy–mixed with his healthy, high elven blood, gave him quite the flawless air of nobility and wealth. Certainly, it was a visage he carefully nurtured to be so. With a press of his hand to his chest, he dipped forward in half-bow to her, “I’ll await you at noon, sharply, madam Crux.” He rose back up and smiled confidently, “I have a feeling about it all, don’t you?” he added with another quick wink.

“I’m sure you’ll see the benefit of the purchase before long, Mister Shimmerdart,” she assured him with another quick glance to her coworkers.

Touching his gloved hand to his hat, he tipped it ever so slightly before backing away, “Till then.”

Now that his pleasure had been taken care of, he turned back to business. The stern woman behind to opposing counter was pale, dangerously so for the middle of a desert. “Ahh, and how are you today?” Resting his hands casually upon the edge of the counter he gave her a bright smile.

Celestia met him with her typical severe expression. Her style of dress, her posture, and her mannerisms all gave her the impression of being a tight laced woman. She wore a high collared shirt and the too-long skirt that was far prettier than her face, lips quirked into a haughty look of disdain.

“I didn’t realize you were in town yet. We hadn’t expected you for another couple of days.”

Nodding slowly he said to her softly, “Just got in last night, dear lady.” He treated her with no less of a beaming, handsome smile than the more affable elven woman, despite her demeanour. With a slight tip of his head back towards the storage room he enquired, “We could discuss some shipment issues, perhaps. If you’ve the time, milady,” he added respectfully.

Her body tensed as he spoke, her hands fisting for a brief moment before she moved quickly towards the back room, pulling out a ring of keys and unlocking the door as he followed after her, boots jingling with each step.

The room was small, just a simple staff break room with a worn in couch, a wooden table in the middle, and a small cold-box for food. She motioned for him to sit as she shut and locked the door, affording them privacy.

“What are these shipment issues?”

She wore high heels to compensate for her short stature, but even still she was of average height. Her hair was piled high on her crown in an elaborate bun, held together with various sparkly gems. A heavy broach at her shoulder and a beautiful bracelet on her wrist completed the look.

Casually he lifted his hand, beginning to slowly pluck his gloves from his fingers, one by one, “Ahh, just a bit of a hold up, my dear,” he said, with a charming smile on his face. “The Shimmerdart suffered a bit of damage on the way here–heavy storm–and so we need a bit of time to do some repairs.”

She bristled at his statement about delays and damages, her mind obviously reeling with concern.

Pulling the glove from his hand, he reached out to brush his fingertips along her bun just slightly, “But my, aren’t you looking more lovely than even the last time I saw you. Such care and finesse in tending your beauty,” he mused with such genuine sounding reverence.

She shrunk away from his tender fingers, giving him an incredulous stare, ignoring his compliments, “And what am I supposed to do until then? My customers don’t wait. They’d just go to another store, and we might lose their business for good! And don’t get me started on what I could possibly tell the owner.”

“I know, dear lady. I know. It’s not the kind of news I care to deliver either,” he frowned, genuinely sullen. “However,” he added, stepping in a bit closer, lowering his voice, “I will be in town while repairs are ongoing. And…” he leaned in, tilting his head to the side, just a couple inches from her, “available to conduct any work that needs doing…” he gave her a slow once-over before snapping his blue eyes back upon her, “Stymieing your competitions efforts, perhaps? Or whatever,” he said with a shrug and a bright smile, “I could be your tool.” He emphasized that last word.

She refused to raise any more than her eyes to him, even though the man towered over her. She folded her arms beneath her slim bust, her slender fingers tapping along the fluffed arms of her white blouse, considering his offer. She gave him a nod, “Yes, you will,” her eyes narrowed seriously, “You’ll be starting rumours of a shipment of counterfeit jewels that recently arrived and were accepted by all jewellers except for this one. Our cunning and demand for perfection for our customers has reduced our stock slightly, but ensured our value.”

His soft lips curled back into a devious grin of appreciation for the woman’s cunning, “My my,” he said, placing his hand over his chest, “I think you just made my heart skip a beat, madam.” Shutting his eyes he shivered a moment, quite genuine in his actions. “You should own this whole place already,” he stated with a smile, “and I’d love to kiss you, but I fear sullying your flesh with the press of lips anywhere but your hand.”

“Yes, well, that’s not how it works here,” she said with a bit of a scowl. Despite her aristocratic facade and the paleness of her skin, she was no immortal, and would never attain the status of owner anywhere in this town. Not in this life time. “What’s your estimate of when your next shipment will be in?”

“In?” he asked, brushing his fingers along the brim of his hat, “Oh, a week, perhaps. It will depend on how quickly repairs can be completed, of course,” he smiled warmly to her. Leaning in slyly he spoke to her in soft tones again, “And if you ever wish a bit of… help, defying how things work around here and making your own manner of profits,” he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “I’m a man for hire. And you’re a woman I’d like to be on the side of.”

She tried to suppress the thrill that ran up her spine, but the shiver was noticeable. People didn’t defy the status quo in New Azoth. It was widely known to be the quickest way to pain and death. And yet, that momentary lapse in control spoke of her true desires.

Her eyes averted to the side for a moment before returning to him, finally giving a dismissive nod, “That will be all for now, Shimmerdart,” she ordered briskly. She was ruffled by his daring offer, and her words were much more crisp, “Report back to me with any vital information. And don’t get caught.”

He smiled casually to her, “Of course,” though he added on a brief but lascivious look at her, his dark blue eyes moving over her as if this prissy woman were the most desirable thing on two legs. Slipping his glove back on he said, “And for the service against your competitors I won’t even charge much. A couple hundred or some baubles from your store you could spare if you prefer. And I will even tack on some extras,” he added with a faint grin.

She tightened that hold on her arms under her bust, eyebrows furrowed, “And what of my compensation for the lack of your deliveries for a week – or more!? All you are doing is ensuring our business partnership will continue once your zeppelin is up and running once more.”

Frowning with almost a pout to his lips he finished putting on the glove, “Ohh, such brilliant business acumen…” he gave a sigh, “how I do hate to see it turned against me.” With a wistful air he brushed the backs of his fingers along his chin, thinking, “Just a little something, then. An incentive to take your plan and push it just a bit further. A trivial little thing that maybe slips off the ledger of inventory, hmm?”

With a bat of his lashes he continued, “A cunning woman like you no doubt recognizes the value of such work and what a bargain I’m offering it at.”

“That woman you were speaking with. Are you interested in that necklace? Or her?”

Jren laughed softly, stepping in near her, though not touching as he leaned in a few inches from her ear, “I am interested in profit and power first and foremost. Girls like her are amusements. Women such as you, however,” he added on with another brief, but truly appreciative, appraisal, “well, I do think that’s a conversation to be had some time.”

“Some other time,” she stressed, giving him a stern scowl, “Perhaps when you’re not ship wrecked and pleading for my help,” she paused, “You’ll do your work and something may fall into your hands if you’re successful in maintaining our current clients. If we gain extra clients, then with all that inventory moving around, more things might find their way onto a missing list.”

He gave another shiver, as if titillated by her stern words quite genuinely, “Dear lady,” he said in such formal but soft and doting words, “at this rate you shall stoke the flames of my passion and greed to such heights I should nary be able to contain myself before long.” With a low bow and a flourish of his hand to the side, he dipped to her as if she were some princess of great repute.

“Don’t push me, Shimmerdart,” she replied briskly, changing the subject, “don’t burst her confidence. A saleswoman without confidence will be finding herself on the street before long.”

He tipped his head in acquiescence to her, “As you wish, m’lady. I shall hurry to endeavour on our mutual benefit,” he said, emphasizing the word ‘mutual’.

“Good fortunes to you in your transactions, and do remember; I am here in the city and available to you for all your needs or wants, should you need a capable and clever hand. Or something more still.” He gave her a pursed-lip smile, the subtleness of the smarmy tone making it no less obvious.

“Until you have something to report, then, Shimmerdart,” she saw him to the door, seeming unaffected or uninterested in his compliments. She was no young girl; she wouldn’t be so easily lied to and manipulated, and whether she felt the swell in her heart or her loins for him, it wasn’t told on her face.

Reaching up with a gloved hand he gripped the brim of his hat and tipped it just so before making his way past her and out into the store. Hand still at his hat he repeated the slight tip of the brim to the elven saleswoman, followed by a secretive wink, “I shall see you soon, dear woman.”

~~

If you enjoyed this, please think about purchasing it on Smashwords or Amazon. As well, reviews and word of mouth would be appreciated! New posts posted every Wednesday, and should we get a large amount in donations, we’ll be posting story parts more frequently.

The Keep - Fantasy Fiction - Now with More Sex!

Svelle was cold; she hated that feeling, what with the whole vampirism thing. It cut right through her to the core, and took her so long to get warmed up again. She always needed a long drink afterwards, warm blood pulsing into her mouth.

She shouldn’t think of that, though.

This was a mission, and the assassination had to be less conspicuous; less of a calling card. Her employer wanted a simple removal of this man. She thought her target had done a good enough job of that already, after having spent the last month tracking him, and finding that he lived in the wilds past a remote, snowy town where he ran a small lodge. You could barely get more removed from New Azoth City.

But then, the boss’s words were law. She had no right to question.

She was a short woman compared to most other races, though tall for the dark elf that she was. Elegant in appearance, she had all of the calling cards of a beautiful elf; long, pointed ears, a slender frame, angular features and an agile body. However, she was marked more sinister by the marks of her immortality. Her eyes were a frightening shade of ruby, and sharpened canines hid beneath her full lips.

Her skin was a healthy charcoal colour, making the whites of her eyes and teeth stand out more prominently. Her brown hair was slicked back in a ponytail, bangs brushed against her forehead, just above her brows.

Dressed head to toe in a black cloth suit that hugged to her form, there was no noise created by her movements. Two daggers in hand, she slunk through the shaded halls of the lodge towards her target’s private quarters, sneaking inside, her motions all practiced quiet in the dead of the snowy night.

Hau’glin was a strange sort by any measure, a half-breed of two disparate races that never got along or even encountered one another often, he bore the marks of both heritages upon him. Quite tall, well over six feet, his skin was an odd mix of both parents. Almost gold tinted but with an odd silver sheen, the smooth head of his desert progenitors was replaced with a thick head of silver hair that flowed back down his neck and spine between his shoulder blades.

His eyes were narrow and almond-shaped, with dark irises; nose long but a bit slender for a man. He might have been quite a handsome male, if the oddness of his mixed blood didn’t put off so many. He was a curious man, but one thing about his parentage helped him now. He was an exceptionally light sleeper.

When the assassin came, he was wide awake in the late hours. His eyes alertly slid to her as quickly as she slipped into his room, and he began to conjure something, moving his fingers with practiced precision. His people–both of them in fact–were some of the few left in the above-world who practiced what was called ‘magic’ by civilization. A lifetime of study had given him some skill which he had used to great effect.

Magic was banned in New Azoth City. There may not be laws there, but there were things that would get a person killed. Magic was number one on that list. It had been decades since she last saw someone perform any ritual like the one before her.

Few things startled her or knocked her off guard, however when she saw him start moving his fingers, her gaze immediately went over the room, searching for who he was signalling to. It was only a moment too late that she understood the full intentions of those little motions, and her body froze just as he finished his casting.

Flinging out his long, spindly fingers, he caused the fibres of the wood that made up the very lodge they stood in to crack away and elongate into webbing. They warped, coiling about her four limbs, effectively stringing her up in the doorjamb.

She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the oddly familiar feeling of being so trapped. It had been many years since someone tied her up. Unwillingly, at least.

She struggled once, then stopped.

Staring at him incredulously, Svelle licked over her lips, “Is zis any vay to treat a guest?” There was a slight accent there, just a little bit of a hardness to her words that only made her small voice more womanly and appealing.

Sat upon his bed, wrapped in a dull, thick grey robe, he rose up, his towering visage, six and a half feet when standing straight, moving towards her. As he got close, she could see the set of six sharp teeth that protruded from his lips like fangs; four pointing down, two smaller ones upwards. Demon blood was common in some parts of the planet, and he looked quite fierce as the silver sheen of his skin dimmed in the darkness.

“You are not one of my guests,” he murmured, watching the elven woman suspended in the web of wood fibre. It was a complex spell trap, laid down long ago by him and only activated now like a net by a hunter. His dark eyes flickered over her form curiously, up and down, taking her in.

“I didn’t say your guest, I said a guest,” she frowned, her eyebrows furrowing and her voice taking on a lilting tone. Her face was a bit soft despite its angularity, her flesh so tender and almost dewy.

A fire burned behind her eyes, seething at the situation, at the ease that he’d nabbed her, but her words were all soft purrs of forbidden promises, “Now vhy don’t you let me down, mmm?”

Standing straight and tall as he was, his broad shoulders caused the thick grey robes he wore to sweep down around him like old curtains, only his long face and pointed ears showing as he studied her.

“Then they haven’t given up,” he stated, no questioning in his voice as he studied her. His voice was deep, with an odd pitch to it, confident, almost haughty except that there was none of that in his expression or mannerisms; he lived rather humbly upon the cold, snowy slopes of the mountainous valley.

Her face pursed as she took him in, “Look, your buddies, zey vanted to surprise you, and I’m really not certain that zey’re going to be villing to pay me for being strung up. In this manner, anyvays,” she ventured, giving him a bit of a suggestive curve of her body, trying not to outwardly struggle as she planned her next step.

Frowning at her glib response, his brows furrowed. He took a moment to study her, “How much do you know?” he asked, his face contorted by sadness. He knew he would be left with no choice beyond kill her or flee. And he might have to flee regardless.

She stared at him for a long stretch of time, licking her mouth thoughtfully before finally speaking, “How much do you think zey’d tell a woman that vould get so easily caught?” Her jaw jutted in defiance.

His silently studied her, trying to discern the truth in her words.

“Did you track me down yourself, or did they tell you where to find me?” So much hinged on that. He’d have to pull up and leave if they knew. Really, he thought, it was a fool’s hope that he might be able to stay, even if he got rid of her.

“If I can find you, zey can find me,” she said, her eyes steadily upon him. As he scrutinized her, so she scrutinized him. She wasn’t going to die, here and now, in such a pathetic manner.

“Let me down, now,” she purred, her vampiric charms lacing the words as she stared into his eyes.

The mysterious Hau’glin returned her gaze, his hand twitching once. His other hand slid up from beneath the folded of his robes, the spindly digits reaching out to her arm, her charms holding him entrapped for that brief sliver of time until he stopped himself. Fingers curling tightly around her wrist, he gave her a sharp look. “That’s not possible,” he said, his words coming out hard.

His free hand came up quicker to cover her eyes as he leaned in. His voice was in her ear, a low murmur, “Cooperate and I will let you live a while longer as my captive. I can promise no more yet. Is my position betrayed? Do they know where I, and you, are?”

Svelle shook against his touch, inhaling his unfamiliar scent. Her face twitched beneath his palm as she shook her head, “Zey don’t, but zey’ll know soon enough.”

He paused, suppressing a sigh before his voice crackled to life in her ear again, “Because you sent word to them, or because you expect them to find you? Be truthful, you’ve nothing to gain from deceiving me, but if I feel you’ve dealt fairly, I might be moved to foolish compassion,” he confessed truthfully, his hand wrapped about her eyes, darkening her view as his nostrils flared, studying the dark assassin’s fragrance.

“Because zey have people watching me,” she snorted, a curl coming to her lips.

His grasp about her eyes loosened just a bit. “Then I’ll need time to prepare to leave under cover so they don’t know,” he said, repressing a sad sigh. Despite the nearly unbearable cold, he had come to enjoy this spot, and his rare visitors. He reached to her two hands, prying her daggers free from her reluctant hands, “I’ll keep you with me a while as I decide what to do. Your friends won’t strike while I have guests, anyhow.”

“Ah, lovely. I’ve not been a hostage in a vhile. It’s a riot.”

He gave a wry smile at the woman’s glib tongue as he pocketed her daggers beneath his robes, keeping them out of sight and away from her, “It’s a bit more life at least, isn’t it? And if it troubles you that much, I’ll see to it your time in my basement isn’t too dull.” A bit of the old him seeped back in there, and the words sounded almost sinister. In practice, however, it sounded almost like her own coy remark earlier.

“You’re a true gentleman,” she cooed. Moving his fingers, he shifted the fabric of the spell, causing the wood-fibre binds to shift and move, coming down around her wrists, binding them behind her back, then her ankles, giving her some freedom of movement, though not enough to run.

Placing one of his hands on her bicep, he grasped her firmly, leading her back through the door she came from and out to the hallway. Whispering to her quietly in her ear he said, “Quiet. Don’t disturb the guests and force me to tell them you were caught breaking in here. It will only complicate my abilities to help you,” he warned, guiding her down to the basement, then to a hidden hatch beneath some rugs and pottery.

She was silent, even though his words warped her lips into a sadistic smile. Her clothing was whisper quiet as she moved, her footfalls light even bound as they were. Her footing was fairly steady, even down the steps, though the sick look of amusement on her face was disconcerting.

Pulling up the hatch, he unveiled a second, deeper basement. This one was finer than the one above, with walls made of fine wood planks. It was, oddly, warmer than above, though there was no fire place. Just a large, black stone where one should be, where the heat seemed to emanate. Guiding her down the final steps, he pulled the trap door shut behind them.

Inside there was a table and chair, bed, chest, drawers and bookshelf. It seemed to be a hidden little room. Perhaps for waiting out anyone seeking him. She was still bound by the many fibres of the wood, his hand on her arm as he peered around, “You can call this home for a while,” he stated, noting the look on her face. “Though I still don’t quite know what to do with you.”

“Then you haven’t my imagination, ah” she said with that edge of coquettishness to it, taking in her surroundings, hrming.

She found herself thinking back to the last town she’d visited before coming for him, back to the beautiful little dandy boy that she’d desired a nibble of until his cow of a girlfriend dragged him away, crowing in his ear. She hadn’t eaten in a day now, which she knew was stupid, but she simply hated to settle for something less than optimal.

His new life of seclusion and charity was in stark contrast to the one he lived of old. Her coy little games and the state of having her captured like this brought back a twinge of his old self. It unsettled him a moment as he caught himself leering a bit at her sidelong. Releasing her arm, he stepped away, back towards the stairs. “I’ll bring you something to eat with daylight,” he stated, simply.

Her lips curled a bit, her nose crinkling in a girlish fashion, “Oh, vell aren’t you a doll,” she smirked, walking towards the source of the heat in the room, “Not like ze other assassins vill find you out in the daylight,” she grinned rather fiendishly, her fangs finally on show to him as she warmed herself on the heated stone.

Though he sported his own fangs, he finally realized her true nature. Narrowing his eyes wearily, he receded back up the stairs. He had no doubt she would find a way to break her binds between then and when he returned, but he wasn’t afraid; or so he hoped she believed.

~~

If you enjoyed this, please think about purchasing it on Smashwords or Amazon. As well, reviews and word of mouth would be appreciated! New posts posted every Wednesday, and should we get a large amount in donations, we’ll be posting story parts more frequently.

The Keep - Fantasy Fiction - Now with More Sex!

Contains explicit sex. See Trigger Warnings for more information.

Moving in with the abrupt shove, the slender man didn’t stumble, the natural grace of his heritage no doubt at work. Spinning a bit, he peered around Zwi’s room, masking the disappointment before she could see it. Placing his hat aside atop a dresser that he found to be a bit too dirty, Hugh turned to glance at her, his jacket undone at some point, showing his frilly ascot, “What a privilege it is ta see the fine home of our lady protector.”

The room was small and almost without any marking of personality. A sawed off shotgun sat on a rack near her bedroom door, and the rest of the place was sparsely furnished.

“Ah,” she said almost soundlessly, moving her fingers quickly over her corset, working to undo it, “I actually didn’t invite you in for small talk,” she tugged at the brown string, her eyes not leaving him. She didn’t trust him. “But, I wasn’t aware until tonight that I was supposed to protect you. If that is true.”

Watching her busily begin to undress herself, the dashing Hugh gave a smile and began likewise. Though his nimble golden-hued fingers could move quite deftly, he took his time pealing back his jacket, tossing it aside to reveal his torso, compact and lean, tightly wrapped in a white shirt.

Reaching beneath his frilled ascot he began to undo the shirt, “Ah, your meanings and intentions are fully understood, madam,” he replied, acknowledging her desire for silence in the least silent manner.

She didn’t mask her annoyance from him as the corset was tossed on top of the dresser before her fingers worked the buttons in her blouse, pulling the light material back to reveal nothing but firm, near-black flesh. Her stomach was toned, her arms were muscled, and the runes along her breastbones and neck accentuated the more feminine lines of her body as she moved to slip from the skirt.

In all of this, both her shotgun and her pouch were removed from sight and, through some rather impressive sleight of hands, managed to find their way far from his view. She kicked off the boots against the door and stood in front of him, unashamed in her utter nudity.

He was just pulling away the white shirt from his torso, revealing the smooth golden skin over lean muscle beneath as she stood nude before him. He didn’t seem to have her appreciation for such haste, but as he tilted his head, letting his golden hair spill over one shoulder as he eyed her up with obvious appreciation. His amber gaze took her dark beauty in, full lips pursing to give a light whistle as his hands moved to his belt, undoing it and beginning to pry away to reveal an average sized, but impressively stiffened, erection.

Already headed to the bedroom, she opened the dresser and removed an ashtray, a lighter and some form of cigarette. She lit one of the sticks and brought it to her lips with an appreciative sigh. The way she lay atop the bed, confidence bordering on arrogance, it was clear that she knew and understood his appreciation for her body, even if she didn’t seem terribly interested in his. In fact, she barely seemed to notice his partial nudity until she finished her inhale of the drug, tapping the ashes into the glass tray, putting it to the side on the night stand.

Patting the bed, she purred lightly “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Pulling his pants and underwear down, he turned, athletic legs carrying him up on to the bed beside her. The trapping of his high culture shed, he looked far less civilized and almost like some feral elf that ran naked through woodlands rather than the dapper dressed hooligan with the gun she met earlier. Reaching out he brushed his soft finger pads against her arm, his voice smooth and charming still, “I have given it a go once or twice before, ah assure you, madam.” That self-confident grin was upon his lips again as he brushed the backs of his fingers against a breast.

“Yea, well,” she replied after a pause, “start me off, boy.”

Her intent was clear, but just in case he was daft, her legs parted lightly and she leaned back, enjoying the sensation of cool air along her nethers and the harsh smoke that made its way into her lungs.

Surprised by the directness of the woman–or more precisely her complete lack of manners and pretence–he slid his smooth padded hand on down her body, trailing along her spread thigh.

Her mons weren’t shorn bare, hair present on her mons, a light shock of white against her dark skin in an almost triangular shape just above her slit. There was no hair further along her lips to impede her own juices from moistening her nether flesh.

With a shrug of his shoulders, seemingly meant for himself and not her, he shifted and moved around her, shimmying himself in between her legs as he moved a finger caressingly along the outer labia.

At the brush of his finger, her eyes closed in her relaxed state, mind conjuring up brilliant adaptations of fantasies beyond this moment in her dingy apartment, away from her sad life and into one of luxurious wealth and eternal life.

Leaning in, the gold waves of his hair tickled her inner thighs as his hot breath grew nearer. He seemed to quite enjoy taking his time, inhaling her scent in some subtle appreciative show.

She relaxed back, a pleasant curve on her lips in between long puffs of her cigarette, alternating between brushing off the ashes and inhaling deep into the depths of her lungs.

Hugh’s round little nose brushed along her slit before he brought his tongue to her, a first graze before the moist lap of a small but skilled muscle upon her sex.

She had been working too hard; there had been too many late nights without release. She nearly fumbled and dropped her cigarette as she felt his wet tongue against her, letting out a soft moan of approval, “Just like that,” she mumbled through half spoken words.

The lustrous head of hair began to silkenly glide across her dark inner thighs as he put his mouth to work upon her, tonguing that appealing cunny, working his way up to touching the sensitive clit with mere nudges at first, becoming more regular as he went.

After her meeting with Fenring, her confidence had been shattered, and while she had no qualms about sleeping with the less attractive races, it  did bolster her spirits to have such an attractive man pleasuring her.

Her boss hadn’t shown as much interest in her as she had hoped, having barely even glanced at her, even in her nicest outfit; an outfit she sewed herself, no less. Too good for her, was he? She tilted her pelvis towards the elven man, another sigh and another long inhale of drugs before she snubbed it out, colours flickering against the backdrop of her eyelids.

Her pussy tasted strangely, more exotic than other women, a rich and heady scent assailing his tongue as her body relaxed further.

With his hands rising, palms pressed to her outer thighs, he began to tongue her with more enthusiasm. He devoted himself to the meticulous tongue lashings, the swirl of his moist muscle, the frenetic pace at which he was setting himself to her cunt. He gave the occasional low groan, his face all but hidden by her groin and the thick head of lustrous golden hair. Amber eyes parted open to gaze up at her intermittently as his head bobbed with the gestures upon her wet slit.

She shifted, her body arching as her throat emitted a loud groan. The desires that had plagued her all through the day as she prepared to see her employer had tightened her nerves, though the drugs and the elf between her thighs was quickly melting her tension.

Her black eyes opened as she cried out again, bucking forwards as one hand mashed his face into her mound, grinding the juices of her cunt into his face. It was lucky for him she grabbed him with the hand her cigarette wasn’t in.

Despite her grab, he showed no sign of pulling away. On the contrary, he held himself to her as she found her pleasure, lapping at her hungrily and pressing against her sensitive clit throughout the grinding and bucking.

When finally she pushed his face away, her body panting and heaving in pleasure, she relaxed back into the bed, her body slick with glossy sweat as she finished her cigarette. He came up gasping for air, his handsome features slickly stained with her juices.

She loved the way it made her entire body tingle, the throbbing in her clit almost painful with the aid of the drugs. Her large breasts parted and swayed with each desperate bid to catch her own breath, half open eyes looking at Hugh and his glistening face.

Grinning a bit at her as his sleek, lean chest heaved, he licked around his full lips and used the back of his hand to wipe up the rest of her wetness from his face. Leaning in to her again, he was poised to mount her, a hand reaching out to one of her large breasts, wrapping his fingers about it, squeezing softly and palming the stiff nipple.

Pleased he was finally showing some initiative, she arched her back, further pressing those firm mounds towards him. Her knees parted and she took a final puff of the drug before flicking it aside, her body rolling with sensations. She saved this drug only for these scenarios – these sweaty, lusty, panting scenarios, and it always made it easier to enjoy, to fully and completely appreciate.

The smell her illicit drugs were strong, even over the rich aroma of her womanhood. Pausing to take a strong whiff of the second hand smoke, he let his eyes flutter shut as he leaned in, head tilting at the last moment to give her neck a kiss. Hugh moved his masculine body in a sensual manner, gliding the tip of his shaft to her saliva and arousal slicked pussy and teasingly trailing along it as he gave a soft moan of desire.

She let out several long, loud groans and moans as she felt his body weigh down on hers, luxuriating in the feel of her own black flesh pressed against his golden skin. Zwi was still lost in the fantasy of being taken by her boss, feeling Fenring’s affectionate hands on her, his words of praise whispered into her ear as he realized just how badly he desired her. How he needed her.

Squeezing that large mound of breast flesh, Hugh twisted and kneaded it ever so carefully, palming and feeling her out as he glided his throbbing, rounded tip to her entrance. He took his time, but he had already been forced to wait on her pleasure first, so without much more fan faire he plunged himself into that heated, slippery mass of flesh with a groan of pleasure. He sported no hulking cock, and couldn’t even compare to the thick orcs and their ilk she had been with in this part of town, but he moaned like she was the tightest, most sensually satisfying cunt he had ever dipped his prick into, his neck arching back and spilling his golden hair down his spine.

She was too deep in her own realm of fantasy to really appreciate the act he was putting on for her, but her pelvis slipped forward and allowed him to press deep between her muscular thighs, into the heated depths of her nethers. For a brief pause, lost in her world of fantasy with her immortal boss, she wondered why he didn’t feel cold; the drug quickly made it so, the sensations influenced by her fantasies, his body quickly feeling as cold as ice as he slipped deeply into her womanhood. She let out a loud scream of pleasure at the sudden chill that the physical hallucination had granted her, hands wrapping around the boy, entrapping herself in the sensation of his “chilled” body against hers.

Those full lips of his moved back to her neck, tongue and flesh moving across her throat, supping at her dark skin with a certain passion incited by her reaction. Perhaps the drugs had worked a little at him too, but he took that scream as an approval of his prowess and began to pull back his hips and thrust in again with smooth arcs of his pelvis. Despite his slowness all through, he now tapped into some feral side, thrusting with a surprisingly thorough roughness, his balls slapping against her dark, wet flesh enthusiastically.

As his pace quickened, her enjoyment mounted. Loud and varied cries from warbling moans of pleasure to absolute screams of delight escaped her lips as her hips bucked against him, her mouth opened enough to show her sharp canines.

The elven man gave delightful huffs and moans as he rode atop her, thrusting away into her cunt with a practiced tempo and twist. The way he fucked gave the indication he had gotten around. Though by no means the greatest lay, in her drugged state, his prowess was only amplified. Licking and suckling at her neck, he began to break from the motions more and more to pant and moan, feeling himself tense within her, his cock stiffening harshly, his breath catching in his throat a moment.

Her nipples were bone hard as the feeling of cold flesh drew across her body once more and as she felt him approaching his own inevitable climax, her own screams and cries of pleasure intensified. She squealed in delight as her pelvis moved downwards, the bone rubbing roughly against the top of his cock, putting more pressure on him to release, to spend himself inside her, to find ecstasy in her depths.

The pressure she placed upon his organ was the final straw, and he twisted his head and neck back, groaning lewdly as he bit down upon his lower lip. Huffing atop her he ground himself into her as he shivered and quaked, his stiffened cock throbbing wildly as he finally unleashed his own seed. Twitching and spurting his cum inside her, he twisted his upper body, lean chest on display as he gave a few little jabs of his hips to pound home his seed into her dark depths.

She clung to him for several moments more, letting him finish up in the deepest parts of her body before she finally eased up, letting her strong arms drop from around his body as she lay there, gasping under Hugh, still fantasizing that he was a chilled, immortal man that never so much as really gave her a second thought.

Panting over her, he kept his position upright, until finally, spent inside her, he leaned forward on top of her, still nestled inside her body as he nuzzled in against her neck, giving her a little nip.

She groaned softly, opening her eyes and looking at the golden body strewn above her, moving to push him from her atop her, “Alright, time to go. Thanks for that,” she shifted beneath him.

Taken quite by surprise with her abrupt push and the way she was slipping out from beneath of him, dismissing him so quickly, his amber eyes went wide and he moved with the shoving. Slipping from her wetly he went to the edge of the bed, eyes moving around in surprise as he stammered, “Just like that?” he was quite put out by it all, flustered, his face blushing red.

She stared at him, her eyebrows tilting upwards. It was taking her longer to decide what was real after such vivid hallucinations, but she finally came to the conclusion that he was actually whining about getting used. She blinked away the confusion and offered, “What? You can come back another day. Not like I’m going anywhere.”

If that was supposed to be reassurance to him, he didn’t take it as such. Perhaps his ego was bruised. Never the less he stooped to pick up his things, beginning to dress, starting with his underwear and pants, a mix of the pitiful pout and a crooked frown on his face as he began to dress. “Another day?” he asked, part question, part disgust.

She leaned back on the bed, feeling the stickiness of their sweat combined on her flesh and finding it to be rather titillating as cum dribbled from her pussy, “Unless you can go again now,” she offered, her eyes moving to him, “Or if you want to clean your cum from me.”

At that, he gave her a look. It was a mix of expressions. Distaste for her at the late offer, and crankiness at his bruised ego, “Can I stay the night if I perform the latter?” he asked, sounding a bit peeved still, though pausing the act of doing up of his pants.

She stared at him for a moment, taking the time to sort through the drug confused question, “You don’t have a place to stay?’ she frowned, her black eyes trained on him, her body splayed before him, sweat dew beading along her flesh, creamy liquid running down her crack and onto the bed.

Tilting his head, his golden head of hair was a bit rustled, adding to his appeal, giving him a bit of tussled look. “Nooo, I just got here, and ah… as you recall, I was robbed.”

She relaxed back, shifting in her bed, a frown on her purple lips. She did remember something about that, she thought. “I didn’t offer you a place to stay,” she mumbled, then sat up, “But,” her eyes narrowed, “If you’re nice I’ll let you stay in the jail the night. Who knows, come morning, that might be the safest place for you. Bonus is that it’s across the hall and almost never used.”

The offer she gave didn’t seem to really please him, though he shifted back to the bed, his cock still a bit stiff and poking from his pants, he knelt on the edge, leaning onto his palms and looking to her seductively. His voice came across smoothly, “I’ll keep you feeling good the whole night if you let me stay here… clean you up… real nice.”

She groaned at his insistence, “For fucks sake,” she sighed, “It’s the jail or the street, take your pick. I’d rather not lose all my belongings for the sake of a fuck, boy,” she tilted and relit her previously discarded cigarette. The whole conversation taking a toll on her, “You’re lucky you caught me in such a nice mood to offer you that.”

Feeling he had pushed her near her limits, he pulled back, standing up straight again, with one knee remaining on the bed. He gave a huff of a sigh and nodded, “Alright then,” he shrugged his shoulders and arms before letting them slap against his sides again. “Ah suppose it’ll do.”

“Damn right it will. Fuck, it’s not like I’m going to lock you in there and let you starve to death. Though I would recommend lettin’ yourself be locked in. Keeps the freaks out, you understand?” she looked at him through partially lidded eyes, “Better inside than out.”

Recomposing himself, he ran a hand back through his thick head of golden hair, “Alright, madam. Alright, you’ve made your case. Though I prefer not to be locked into anything.” He flashed her another of his charming smiles, “I do enjoy my freedom quite a bit, ah’ll have you know.”

She nodded, taking another toke before snuffing it out, holding the breath for a minute and exhaling that delicious smoke. “Me an’ you both. And it’s not like you weren’t fine,” she finished, “I just don’t spend the night.”

His smile was strained, “Ah undahstand you, madam.” He finished doing up his pants, and bent down to reach for his shirt.

She stood slowly, cum dribbling down the inside of her thighs, offering him a feral grin, “You’ll be staying out of trouble from now on, won’t you Hugh?”

Nodding to her as he pulled his shirt on over his arms, he flashed her a wink, “Ah course. Clean as a whistle, you’ll be able ta say about me,” he said with that eastern drawl.

“Right,” she said as she moved towards a dresser, grabbing a slick negligee before heading to the door, unlocking the deadbolt, “How long were you staying?

Buttoning up his shirt, he then tucked it in, plucked up his hat, and placed it on his head suavely before tossing his jacket over his shoulder. Looking around to her he declared nonchalantly, “Why, with how wonderful this here slice of heaven has been, I don’t know how I could ever think of leavin’ madam.”

A wry smirk appeared on her face, clearly enjoying his sense of humour. Grabbing her shotgun from where she had stashed it, she opened the door and shooed him out in the direction of the hall, reaching for her satchel as she moved out after him.

Swaggering out the door, he acted as though he was quite the victor in the whole affair. The grungy hallway was empty as they strode out, him pivoting on a heel to look back at her as she locked the apartment door. Moving across the hall she opened the door to the small makeshift jail.

It was a refurbished apartment with a main room containing an unused desk crammed against a corner, and a series of five cells, all of which were quite tiny, containing only a small bed and a hole which was no doubt used for defecation. Hugh curled his upper lip at the sight, the small barred window near the door the only light outside. “Ugh,” he groaned.

“Trust me,” she said, “Better than the streets and likely the best a new guy in town with no cash is gonna get for the night,” she reassured him, “Everyone holds onto their stuff here. As much as they can. If you can’t do that, might be best you head back to wherever you came from.”

With a sigh, and a resigned expression, Hugh moved into the room and then casually took in the surroundings before tossing his jacket onto the desk in the corner. “Very well.” Turning back to her, he took a bow, “Thank you for the hospitality then, madam. I shall remember such kindness always.” There was a hint of sarcasm in his words that she quickly ignored.

“Yea, well, don’t mention it,” she said. “You’ll come to appreciate it the longer you stay here. You don’t want me to lock the door?”

Shaking his head, he brought a hand up to his hair, tussling it a little on his own before turning to her, “I’ll cram the desk up in front of it for my own safety. How’s that sound?”

“Alright,” she said, resigned and tired of talking. “Sleep well, Hugh,” she bid him before turning and closing the door behind her. It didn’t take long to hear the scraping of wood on wood as the desk was shoved into place by the door, a slight cursing mutter soon following.

She unlocked her door, moving in and securing the door with the deadbolt before letting her shotgun down on her bed, followed by her precious bag. Stripping off the nightgown, she took a deep inhale of the lingering scent of sex in the air, enjoying it despite the deep frown on her face.

~~

If you enjoyed this, please think about purchasing it on Smashwords or Amazon. As well, reviews and word of mouth would be appreciated! New posts posted every Wednesday, and should we get a large amount in donations, we’ll be posting story parts more frequently.

The Keep - Fantasy Fiction - Now with More Sex!

New Azoth City wasn’t the best place to be if one wasn’t in the upper class, but it was an excellent city for trade. Especially for those who catered to more earthly delights; drugs, liquor, women, jewels. The rich of the city lavished themselves with such things of beauty, even as most of the city lay in squalor.

The place that Jren had landed his trade zeppelin, however, was within the central hub of commerce. Most of the buildings were still in good condition, filled with sales associates that felt themselves rather rich when compared to the industrial portion of the city.

Jren woke with the rest of the city. The sound of the city waking outside his window, people hawking news papers, exotic fish and animals; everything that anyone could need in this existence and more if you knew where to look, and had the coin to get it. Stands lined the streets, small time peddlers trying to make what they could, the larger buildings housing stores that had been passed down through the years until the aristocrats moved in and claimed them as theirs.

Now they were leased to the families, much like everything else. The hotel that Jren had rented for himself was on the middling side of posh – comfortable, roomy, but still held the scent of staleness that hinted of rather lax cleaning. Even still, the sheets were soft, the curtains were heavy, and the breakfast was complimentary.

Despite his lifestyle as a substance using–though he’d argue not abusing–dashing, dare-devil, ladies’ man, Jren kept himself rather regimented. He had been awake with dawn, and when the knock came he was mostly dressed. His vest, shirt and pants on, he even had his weapons strapped into place. Ever the cautious sort he strode over towards the door in such a light footed, elven manner, that even his spurs made not a sound as he peered out through the peephole at whoever was bothering him at such an early hour.

It was a simple servant girl, short and mousy in appearance, looking rather worn out already. It was a contrast to him with his blonde hair already shiny and slicked back into a tight pony tail. Pulling his thick jacket on over his clothes, he adjusted it over the holsters before plucking up his hat and slipping it on over his hair with smooth practice. Half high elf, half siren, his skin was golden with light feather-like markings beneath and above his eyes, giving him a rather fetching, exotic look.

“Breakfast is served!”

He was slim man, tall and energetic, and after eating his brief meal, he locked his door and headed out to the lobby of the hotel. It was almost empty at the moment, most people finishing their own meals or having already left for the day, and just a few bitter employees wandered around, tidying and cleaning.

At the reception desk was a short, blue elf that seemed rather wide eyed and cheery for it being so early. She was humming to herself as she went over the guest ledger for the evening before.

Sighting the rather eye-catching woman, Jren plastered on a bright smile, walking on over to her with the light jingle-jangle of his expensive spurred-boots. “Had I known,” he began in his smooth, elven voice, “the staff included such extraordinary beauty, I would have stayed here on my many previous visits, madam.” He slid his elbow on up onto the counter top as he smiled at her, his blue eyes bright and shimmering.

Nixy’s eyes rose from the ledger, one finger poised over the place she stopped, startled. She recovered quickly, returning his bright demeanour, “Good morning! Would you like a room for tonight at Lajulian Rose, then?” She was a sweet young thing, playing coy against his flirtatious mannerisms.

“I already have one,” he declared in a soft, pleasing tone, “but you’re nearly enough to convince me to get two. But sadly,” he said, placing a gloved hand over his heart, “I’ve not even been able to make full use of the one room thus far.” The dirty hint there wasn’t betrayed by a lecherous look, but her eyes sparkled for a brief second as she read into it.

Her smile only grew and she pushed her navy hair back from her face, revealing her button nose and the sprinkling of dark freckles along it. She was a youthful beauty, rare and exotic in these parts and with a pleasant tone of voice to boot, “That’s fantastic! Not about, uhm, not using it fully so far, but… how are you enjoying your stay? Have you been with us long?” She was perky, without a hint of falseness that some others bore.

Enjoying the woman’s return of his banter, he flashed a wide grin, leaning onto the counter top. With a shake of his head, he replied, “Just the night so far. Though I dare say it’s good fortune I did not meet you at my check in,” he let that hang a moment before continuing, “lest I would have spent the whole of the evening in desperate longing alone. Fortune can smile upon us so strangely at times, don’t you agree?”

Her eyes widened at his words, bringing forth a fit of girlish laughter, shaking her head before looking around to see if anyone might overhear her, “I just started this morning! So of course you didn’t see me!” her smile broadened, “I’m glad your night wasn’t too painful, though.”

“Ahh,” he declared in a wistful manner, dramatic but not overly so, “but who knows what tonight might bring, hm? Mourn not what you’ve done, only what you’ve failed to do, that’s what I always say, madam. My my,” he said, shaking his head with a soft laugh, “how discourteous of me. Jren Shimmerdart.”

He tugged his glove from his hand, extending the bare fingers to her then in offering, “Captain of the Shimmerdart and proprietor of Shimmerdart Imports/Exports, most assuredly” he stressed the last two words, “at your service.”

She shifted in her seat as he named his title and business, obviously impressed, “Nixy!” she offered out her tiny hand, the nails neatly trimmed and lightly glossed. She was very put together this morning, “Just Nixy! We don’t have family names until we, ah, start our own family. Pass into adulthood,” she clasped her fingers around his, giving him a bit of a naughty grin. Her meaning was only too well read.

His tan, soft fingers grasped her hand in return and lifted it up as he bent forward, placing a rather gentlemanly–albeit languid–kiss upon the back of her knuckles, “A pleasure, miss Nixy,” his words earnest and truthful. With a raised eyebrow he continued, “And I must say, how charming a custom,” that wide smile grew again, “here I was just going to stop in and see if any messages were left for me, and I find myself absolutely intoxicated with your presence and agonizing over the wonder of when you get off work and whether you’d accompany me for a lovely rendezvous.” It all came out so naturally. He was, no doubt, a born flirt.

She laughed, giving a quick look around the reception area before nodding, licking over her lips “I get off at five.” Her words held excitement and eagerness, her head tilted to the side as she sized him up.

“I should get back to work now before someone checks up on me, though.”

Nodding slowly, he leaned in and murmured softly to her, “If anyone gives you any guff, madam Nixy, you just tell them that your overwhelming charm did manage to convince me into staying here yet another night instead of heading off right away to some other establishment.” He lifted a hand to lightly graze the backs of two fingers along her chin for just a moment before winking, “I’ll be seeing you at five then. Sharp.”

She nodded and wide teal eyes skipped away from his, filled with wonder and anticipation. Batting her lashes at him, her words came out more sultry, “I will do that, Mister Shimmerdart.”

“Please,” he responded, slipping back from the counter and sliding on his glove again, “Jren to you, Nixy.” He reached his fingers into his jacket, pulling a small pair of round, tinted spectacles from his breast pocket and slipped them over his nose. With a wide smile, he stepped backwards towards the door, “Have yourself a wonderful day, dear lady,” he added on more loudly, in case any management was within hearing range, “quite simply the most competent and convincing clerk I have ever had the pleasure of encountering in any hotel throughout all my travels.”

She laughed and batted both her eyes and hands at him dismissively, quite smitten and pleased with his compliments, her heart already beating faster with exhilaration. “Have a good day!” She bid, animated and fully meaning it.

Grinning toothily, he flashed the girl another wink before pulling open the doors and setting foot out into the sun blasted steps of New Azoth city. Reaching his two hands to his waist, he hooked his thumbs into his belt and began to make his way towards the dock that houses his damaged zeppelin, hoping to check up on the progress that day.

Until the repairs were completed, they were landlocked, and it was costing him more than just a hotel room. In a cut throat business like his, most clients weren’t willing to wait.

~~

If you enjoyed this, please think about purchasing it on Smashwords or Amazon. As well, reviews and word of mouth would be appreciated! New posts posted every Wednesday, and should we get a large amount in donations, we’ll be posting story parts more frequently.

The Keep - Fantasy Fiction - Now with More Sex!

Evening had yet to cast its long shadow upon the world outside as Zwi arrived at the posh, exclusive club for one of her rare visits with her boss. He had come, like the rest of his kind, to better live as they wished – in decadence and sinful indulgence, away from the prying eyes of civilization.

The club was at the peak of one of the tallest buildings of New Azoth City, an industrial urban centre surrounded by sand, metal sky scrapers towering over the wasteland deserts. Fenring owned much of the city, and the slums he ruled required his own brand of order.

That’s where she came in. His enforcer.

He stood by himself, behind the bar, two brutish half-orc guards upstairs watching her every move. The railings and bar edges were all brass lined, shined to a bright sheen, the marble surface just as pristinely clean.

He was a pale human male, youthful but with a mature air. Without the constraints of mortality, it was likely for a good reason. His hair was a pitch black, framing either side of his face and parted down the center. His suit was a pressed ebony that rose up in a high collar. The slim patch of hair upon his chin formed a goatee as though the middling height man sought to hide the boyishness of his body with the trappings of age and refinement.

His gaze fell upon her as she arrived on the chugging elevator, a blasé expression upon his face that seemed to say he was bored with everything he saw. He wore a pretentious dark-crimson cravat with billowy white sleeves that poured out from beneath his jackets cuffs as he strummed his fingers upon the bar.

Zwi understood that these rare meetings with her boss were important. The silken white hair was done up in a pretty style, the shade matching the numerous runes along her flesh, elaborate tracings around her eyes, down her neck, and over her exposed breastbones.

Her dark skin was almost purple in the evening light and the black cilia of her eyes with the silver-white irises encased in them gave her an almost demonic visage. She approached with a friendly gait, her expression business like in contrast.

Her body was clad in a tight fitted white blouse ruffled at the edges, scooping low over her shoulders and across the middle of her bicep, a tight brown corset laced around her midsection, a silken white skirt flowing out beneath it and hugging to her curves. It had a slit up the side, the material falling in an asymmetrical fashion, with ruffles following the seam, and a pair of brown high heeled boots ending at her calves.

Even dressed as she was, she felt childish and underdressed in front of him, in this place with all the trappings of high society to which she certainly didn’t belong. Even still, Zwi acted casual about the entire invitation.

Seeing the woman approach he finally gave a nod to her, the only greeting she got. In a slow, throaty upper class drawl he began, “The apartments are growing overly full. The city is crowded, and there aren’t enough places to house them all,” his eyes appeared a little sunken with the way he gazed at her, “This means rents will be going up.”

The implications of this were obvious, of course. Rents increasing in those poor slums meant some people would be out of a home, others would have to do without basic necessities to keep a roof over their heads. Violence was assured. “So that means you have to keep order there as this goes down. To ensure there is no trouble that interferes with the flow of rents.”

She listened with practiced calm, her face betraying no emotion. It helped that she had several drug cocktails earlier in the day, the particular mixture keeping her as stoic and as heartless as any sadist. She nodded at his words, “Of course,” she said, and her voice was as dark and as creamy as her flesh, a slight bite to it that gave it almost a masculine husk.

“When will they be made aware?” She was not an official law enforcement agent. No such thing existed this far into the wild wastelands. She was a contracted enforcement officer; the defacto ruler of her little slice of slum heaven.

Her boss answered promptly in that old world aristocratic drawl, “Tomorrow morning.”

Pulling a small vial of some dark substance out of his pocket, he pushed it across the marble bar top towards her between two pale, gemmed digits. “A bonus,” he said, “for you to ensure nothing happens to the property.”

Fenring knew all too well of her addictions, and like any manipulative owner, he saw it as an advantage to wield her as a better tool. Had he known her a little better, however, he might have realized he had something even more effective that he could offer her.

She stretched her long fingers towards the vial, her face registering no emotion on it. Her white eyelashes and brows contrasted against the brilliant dark of her face as she lowered her head deferentially, “You are too kind,” she said as she quickly moved to tuck it in her small, white purse.

It joined an evening supply of various drugs and what cash she had managed to save in the fabric pouch. “They will be made to understand,” she promised in that rich voice.

“Then I trust we needn’t speak again for a while. Should you fail in your duties, I’ll be in touch,” he warned, as he slipped his hands from the brass edging of the bar and tucked them behind his back, the meeting officially ended.

Not a flicker of emotion passed by her face, despite her annoyance and anger, her voice coming out even and pleasant, “Have a pleasant evening,” she bid before turning, moving towards the elevator once more.

As she heard the jingle of vials clank off each other in her purse, she managed a small smile. She was guaranteed a pleasant evening on her own, alone, in her dingy apartment. The thought brightened her.

Leaving the high society building and its well armed guards, she became reacquainted with the reality of the city. Even the streets outside the very buildings that the upper classes call home were filled with beggars and ruffians. The trip towards her section of town introduced a worsening vista, however.

The stone and metal of the tall buildings were warped and swayed in the breeze, the structures shabby and barely able to be considered buildings at all. There were a few apartment buildings created by her boss in the early days, but mostly there was ramshackle constructs made to house the ever increasing population of hopefuls.  Plenty of tents and makeshift box homes were crammed into free spaces for vagrants, all of whom were still expected to pay land fees.

Most of the residents knew not to test her on the requirement. Even with new ones arriving each day, she had a flare about her that warned off those wishing to disagree with her. With her odd eyes and the demonic coloured skin, she was also tall, especially for a woman, especially in heels, levelling in at around six feet. Adding to that she always had at least two guns on her person, and it gave her a convincing edge to all arguments.

Her apartment was situated on the main level of the central apartment building, only a short trip across the street from a bar that seemed even grimier and seedier for having just been in the high society establishment up top.

She glanced over at the bar for a moment, as if considering just how she wanted her night to end. The people at this leg of the city were the bottom of the barrel. Half-breeds, orcs, trolls, beast men and worse. These were the ones who mostly weren’t even welcome in the rest of this misbegotten city, which spoke a lot for the quality of her little empire.

The races that could do hard manual labour with little other prospects had made this place their home, and they were a rough crowd to deal with at the best of time.

She had expected something more for the evening and was already disappointed. When her boss had invited her up to the Club she was hoping for a night of glamour. Of illicit hedonism. She had wanted a party.

Instead she got one vial.

The memory quickly soured her against socializing and she decided quickly that she needn’t face any more disappointment this evening. She pushed through the outside door of her apartment, preparing to spend the rest of the night in an absolute wash as she planned for a morning of danger and violence.

The sound of a gunshot rang into the night, and she knew her evening was far from over. It distantly came from the direction of the bar, the sight of several low class denizens scurrying out through its doors and down the streets in fear, emphasizing the true source of the ruckus.

She groaned, more in annoyance than any real fright or worry. Lofting the shot gun that almost seemed attached to her hands, she walked towards the bar, shoving people out of the way. Even in her rather formal attire, she was certainly not someone that you’d like to see toting a gun at nightfall, her skin blending into the muted purple of twilight.

The bar was a grungy sort – catering to the local lowlifes, how could it not be? Dark and dreary inside, it was a large enough place to accommodate all the riff raff of the area. There were multiple levels, and a big rectangular gap looking up to the floor above where more patrons peered over the wood railings to down below. Shoving her way past the crowds of watching misfits–orcs, trolls, beast men and all manner of mixes of the sorts. Many made quick displays of anger before seeing her, or her gun at least, then shuffling away.

As she shoved through she came to see a curious sight. Standing at the center of a ring of patrons were two men. One was a more familiar sight, a local resident with greyish skin, a sleek look to him that was almost elven with the pointed ears and refined features, but with a strange air of sinister birth to him. His hair was a thick shock of white that went back past his nearly foot-long ears.

His eyes were narrow and a pure black, but for a sort of misty grey that passed through them. Dressed in a long trench coat with a high leather jacket beneath, he was a familiar sight to the place, though he faced something much more peculiar.

An elf. A simple high elf with golden skin and hair. A bit short for his kind, perhaps. His thick mane of golden blonde came down from his black hat, and around his expensively tailored jacket. He reminded her of her aristocratic vampire boss by the manner of dress, except to the keen eye it could be noted his black finery was scuffed and worn at the edges and seams; it had seen some travel.

However, handsome as he was with his thick lips and round, yellow tinged eyes, he held a revolver pointed upwards, smoke curling from the barrel after having been recently fired.

She was shocked at the sight, though not fazed by it, and with her gun trained onto the golden man, her white on black eyes staring at him hard, she spoke loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd, “Who are you and why are you shootin’ your gun off in my bar?”

In her mind, everything in this section of the slums belonged to her, one way or another. This man was no exception.

The greyish apparition of a man, Frellen, gazed at her with his keen eyes that always seemed a little displeased. His voice was a little nasally, but otherwise had the makings of a deep, attractive tenor. “This newcomer here insists he’s been cheated.”

The golden elf gave a disarming smile, looking far too pleasant and appealing to be any trouble to anyone, “I assure you, m’lady, I was ah merely defendin’ myself.” The elf carried an odd dialect that was more similar to lawful regions, far from her little slum city.

She glared at Frellan, her eyes hard. He dealt in drugs, having helped her out more than once when her boss was stingy, though they weren’t close. Still, she trusted him to not be the cause of trouble in the bar. It was bad for his business.

She turned to the elf, studying him over quickly. Her thoughts quickly turned more lustful than she had anticipated, his attractive visage a refreshing sight in these parts. She looked towards the crowd of half breeds and mutants and mused that anyone with appendages where they ought to be was at least a little attractive in these parts.

“Is that true?” she asked, pausing, “That you say you’ve been cheated? By who?”

Frellen was a rather tall sort and he looked intimidating as he folded his arms over his chest, glaring at the elf. “At cards, no less.” Shooting a glance back to Zwi he added wryly, “Hardly call for gunplay.”

The golden man stepped forward, shorter than the accusatory Frellen, he waggled his gold-plated revolver before cautiously lowering it and slipping it into his holster. Tipping his wide brimmed, flat topped hat, he doffed it to her in an elegant bow, “Hugh Glantau,” he said, introducing himself before rising back up and giving a charming smile.

“And I do believe the gentleman here is just bitter that he’s no longer the most appealing male specimen in the bar. But, as to the veracity of the accusations…” Hugh said as he righted himself, “I was ah merely venting my suspicions when some rather hostile motions were made unto my person. Hence, the self-defence.” The elven man had a way of talking a lot.

She sized the two of them up and inwardly mused that this was a reason she didn’t have kids. She lowered her gun, though she was still prepared to use it all the same, “I hate to trust you two to settle this like men, but look,” she glanced at the stranger, “No one came to these parts a stranger and expects to win at cards,” she grinned at Frellen, “And ain’t no one came here lookin’ to get their ass beaten neither. If you ain’t nice to new folks, well, how will we ever fill this place, hmmm?” she drawled out, “Now. Am I really goin’ to have to settle this?”

The grey-skinned Frellen dipped his head in deference to her, and after a moment, the golden elf did the same. “Ah, now… I’m afraid it was not quite so simple anymore.” Frellen rolled his dark eyes, not that it was easy to tell, as if expecting this.

“While there was ah all this ruckus,” he said, “two brutish orc-like gentleman did make off with the remainder of the tables pot. Includin’ my own. Mayhaps you did see them boltin’ from the establishment?” He flashed her a white-toothed smile that could very nearly be imagined to sparkle.

“Maybe, then,” she started in slowly, her eyes narrowed, “you should have been paying more attention to the pot and less to causing a fuss, clearing out the bar and hurting business for the next… oh I don’t know, how long’s it take for them to come back in? Ten minutes or so?” she asked, focusing on Frellen before turning her attention on the golden elf, “There’s too many people in this place, too many homes, too many back alleys. Cut your losses.”

The devious looking apparition of a man Frellen gave a wide, thin-lipped grin to her, a glint of respectful admiration in his face. The golden elf, however, gave only a frown that bordered on a pout. “I do believe I am understandin’ the way of things now. Ah do thank you for your patience, madam.”

“Yea, well,” there was a pause as her lips warped into a bawdy grin, “if you need a way to cheer yourself up, I have a place across the street.”

Frellen soured at her offer to the other man, his respectful grin faded. The golden haired elf gave another elegant bow to her before swaggering up to her, the dapper and handsome high elf extending a smooth hand to her, “Well… perhaps I just might then. Though I fear,” he said with a tilt of his head that makes his long, lustrously wavy golden hair sway a bit, “drinks shant be on me for the time being.”

She glanced around the tavern briefly, her eyes lingering on Frellen for a moment, “There,” she announced in her loud voice, “threat removed for the evening, and you’re all free to enjoy the night in peace.” She gave Frellan a rather wicked grin before adding on, more quietly, “Might be your turn for cheering up tomorrow.”

The tall, ghostly Frellen merely dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement of her offer, not seeming ready to perk up entirely just yet. The crowd of unwashed masses slowly began to turn back to their doings, the gambling and drinking and drug abuse mostly.

Hugh was most definitely a couple inches shorter than her, though his thick hair and high boots made it hard to tell exactly. He walked up beside her, leaning in against her arm, “Ah do trust the offer was, ah… genuine then, ma’am?” he asked softly to her, or as softly as the rising din of noise as the bar returned to business would allow.

“Something like that,” she replied as she reached her hand around his bicep, leading him outwards and towards her own private haven, her shotgun still in hand. She was careful around him, especially of the pouch around her wrist, though having squandered most of her income on drugs, she was a less appealing target for thieves.

Quite surprised by the strong grip upon his arm, the handsome elf gave her a curious look, “My, you are quite the lady as they say, no?”

“I’m sure they say a lot of things,” she offered, her hand testing her door to check for potential intruders, taking the key from her small pouch, unlocking it and shoving him into her room before following suit quickly after, dead bolting it as soon as she was through.

~~

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The Keep - Fantasy Fiction - Now with More Sex!