The Temptress-------Chapter 3

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The carved wooden sign above the tavern door proclaimed the establishment as being the Silent Lady. The painted, double-sided relief of a headless woman offered the original owner's opinion about the only way silence could be expected from a woman. But on this night (or most any other night, for that matter) the bar was far from being quiet. Janda's largest and most frequented tavern was quite the nightspot for many of the city's residents as well as those travelers who knew of the Silent Lady's reputation for being a "must see". The building itself was dome-shaped like most of the other buildings throughout the city but the main three-story structure was surrounded by six, smaller ones which were linked to it, and each other, by doors and short hallways. Two of the smaller domes on opposite sides served as stables while the other four were designated for housing those guests who decided to spend a night or two, with basic accommodations on the ground floor and the larger, more luxurious suites above.

But those had been added later, after the Lady had gained its notoriety.

No, the Lady's, as everyone eventually referred to it, main claim to fame was not her comfortable beds, first-rate food, hospitality, or nightly gala-like atmosphere (although all applied equally). Instead, the Lady's patrons gathered within her curved walls to hear the finest musicians play and the most skilled troubadours sing and tell their stories. Only per-formers who were invited to grace the Lady's stage were allowed to show off their talent, although some exceptions were made from time to time. The list of hopefuls who wished almost more than anything to set foot on that rostrum rarely dropped below a hundred---a fact which was always a source of amazement to Psalmanazar, the Lady's current owner, since it was unusual for a featured performer to stay any longer than a night or three.

Above the first floor's expansive dining hall and the second floor's nearly cavernous bar was what performers and patrons alike referred to only as the Stage. The audience would sit on pull-out wooden bleachers almost completely surrounding a slightly raised platform in the center. At the appointed time, the houselights would dim and the artist(s) appearing that night would be raised up through a trapdoor at center-stage. (Of course being artists, some opted to enter through the patron door, shaking hands and greeting their aficionados as the made their way to the stage.)

Trelat Sylvain, a troubadour of some renown throughout the western half of Tiaceor, and an irregular regular performer at the Lady, was sitting center-stage, slowly plucking out the notes to one of his songs on the the strings of his well-traveled lute. Gradually, the tune's tempo increased until Trelat's fingers were little more than a blur flashing back and forth across the strings. The song's rather abrupt end caught the audience off guard and, for a moment, there was silence.

But only for a moment.

Thunderous applause resonated throughout the domed hall, punctuated by whistles and earnest calls for more. Trelat flashed a beaming smile at the crowd before standing to take a deep bow, acknowledging each section of his audience in turn.

"Thank you!" Trelat half-shouted appreciatively, as he raised a hand and waved. "You are too kind!" For some time the clapping and cheering continued, fading away only after Trelat once more took his seat on the stool, the only thing on an otherwise bare stage.

While he was by no means tall or muscular, Trelat Sylvain was a man of exceptionally good looks---and even more remarkable talent. He had a roguish look about him that was only enhanced by his brown eyes. Trelat kept his hair cut somewhat short but maintained a thin, braided rattail that hung down the right side of his head to his shoulder blade. Of course, his appearance would have been incomplete without his thin mustache and well-groomed goatee. But Trelat's most notable feature was his smile. It was the rare woman who would not look at him twice when he smiled.

"With barely any effort," he once bragged to a friend, "I can almost guarantee that I'll not be sleeping alone on any given night. In fact, I'd wager that, by giving it my all, I'd not only be able to get away with murder but convince everyone that I did the world a favor!" To his credit, though, Trelat never had the opportunity to put the latter part of his boast to the test. Killing an opponent in a duel or in combat was one thing but cold-blooded murder was a far different matter altogether.

Dressed in his finest blue silk doublet, matching hose and hat, Trelat looked to be quite the dandy (though in a slightly foppish sort of way) which made him always seem a bit out of place while performing. Once, because of his manner of dress, he had been mistakenly taken to the private balcony box of another city's local lord instead of being guided to the backstage area. Undaunted, Trelat simply introduced himself to the petty ruler when he and his family arrived and proceeded to give one of his most memorable performances to date, including the seemingly "private" one for those in the box.

As Trelat coaxed some soft, light music from his lute, his eye notice two young ladies sitting in the front row giving him the eye while whispering and giggling to each other. To show he noticed them too, Trelat winked at the pretty pair and smiled. Their surprise was plainly evident as they bounced excitedly, though discreetly, in their seats and whispered even more excitedly back and forth.

Ahhh. . .youth , the troubadour sighed mentally. A wicked smile spread Trelat's mouth as the punchline of a particularly ribald joke sprang to his mind as he tried to think of just the song to sing next, suggesting activities he and the enamored duo could explore later, in more comfortable surroundings. From the purposely understated elegance of their pleasantly revealing dresses, Trelat guessed that the twosome were either the children of some wealthy merchants or a petty duke or baron passing through Janda. The exuberance in their applause marked them as being somewhat under the age typically allowed beyond the Lady's first floor. The worldly bard smiled inwardly. It just goes to show how a little bit of gold---when slipped into the right hand---can open just about any door .

It only took a few more moments for Trelat to remember just the right song. Giving a slow wink to his young admirers (and soon-to-be bedmates), Trelat launched into the love ballad.

* * * *

As the master troubadour wooed his ladies and stirred everyone else's hearts, an unseen someone was using the concert as a cover for his own activities. Stealthily, a black-gloved hand slipped through the narrow opening between the rise and run of the wooden benches and carefully lifted the burgeoning coin purse of the portly man to whom it belonged. As the strings tying the pouch to the man's belt slackened, a second hand joined its opposite and pulled gently but firmly at the dangling ends that would free the small money bag from its owner's side. A second later, the knot was undone and the hands were already slipping back from whence they came---taking the pilfered riches with them. The man never knew what happened.

Meanwhile, the owner of the nimble hands quietly slipped the coin purse into a larger bag containing more than two dozen other such prizes. As the black-clad thief pulled the draw strings on his own bag tight with a sharp jerk, not a sound issued forth. Even over the pleasant din of Trelat's music, the jingle of so many coins within should have been heard by those just above, but no one heard a thing. Beneath his black mask, the master thief smiled. Silently, he made his way back through the metal supports to his entry point.

In a few minutes, the burglar was slipping out the thief hole located in the inner wall of the Stage's dome. The descent back down to the crawl space connecting the guest rooms to the main dome was as easy as the ascent had been thanks mostly to the Lady's sloping walls. Soon the thief was entering his suite by means of the secret door in the back of his closet. It was due to such passages throughout the Silent Lady that made it as popular a place to visit, among those of his profession, as it was to those they victimized. Taking the bag from his belt, the still disguised thief quickly emptied the contents of the stolen purses into the larger one just before dropping each one into the space under a carefully pried-up floor board. Once finished transferring his ill-gotten loot, he slipped the small plank back into its correct place. His task completed, he hung what appeared to be an empty sack over the hook of a clothes hanger bearing one of his lady's more elegant dresses. Hidden within the garment, it would be all but undetectable during a cursory search.

At the thought of his paramour, the thief suddenly became very aware of how long he had been absent from her side. He had excused himself from going with her straight to the Stage after the sumptuous banquet Psalmanazar had thrown for Trelat Sylvain, one of his more honored visitors, stating that he needed to take care of some "personal business". It had been nearly an hour since then and it was essential he rejoined her. As he removed his mask, he took down the neatly stored attire he had been wearing during the feast and re-dressed.

The face beneath could have passed for someone in their mid twenties even though its wearer was ten years older. His clean-shaved face was marred only by the small scar on his left cheek and short, sandy blond hair framed his youthful face. To any who met him, the still innocent glimmer in his eyes made them think him to be someone who had yet to experience much---if any---of the world. His lean frame and the almost elf-like grace in his movement suggested that he was of well-to-do or noble parents, though he was truly as far from being either of these as he was from being a frog.

He was, however, Snaggit Ansplit: consummate thief and master con artist. While he was known by some of the other thieving guilds across Tiaceor through his reputation, it was in his native Galamoor and especially in Karroz that Snaggit wielded very nearly the same amount of power as his guild's master there. Supporters urged him to challenge Ioz de Corde for leadership of the guild, but Snaggit always politely declined to do so, opting instead to remain loyal to his long-time friend; he was more than content to be the "power behind the throne". Snaggit knew there would come a time he would have to contest Ioz for the position of Guild Master (even if it meant he would have to face other would-be's before hand), but that was still several years down the road. Besides, he often mused to himself, there are still so many over-burdened purses to relieve and a like number of grand homes I have yet to "tour".

After fastening the wide, white ruff around his neck, Snaggit reversed his black gloves, revealing a contrasting pair of egg shell colored ones, complete with wide lace cuffs. As a finishing touch to his look, he took down a fashionably plumed hat which he tucked under his arm just before stepping into the room he shared with his lady fair.

Gone was the thief Snaggit Ansplit.

In his place stood the well-to-do dandy Gainstan P. Glits: a persona Snaggit had care-fully honed during his twenty-some years of traveling. Much to Snaggit's amusement, his alter-ego had taken on a bit of a life of its own. Those of note who met "Gainstan" often remembered having met him when encountered elsewhere and usually introduced him to the host of the celebration in whose home they found themselves.

A place that would be robbed mere days after Gainstan P. Glits left town.

Snaggit counted himself fortunate that a connection between him and his other self had not yet been made. But, then, who would suspect someone like Gainstan to be a thief?

Before Snaggit opened the door to his room, he tightened the strings of his own purse. After all, he chuckled, with a thief lurking about, one can't be too careful, can one? On that thought, the disguised malefactor headed to the public entrance to the Stage.

* * * *

As Snaggit-come-Gainstan opened the double doors to the Lady's rostrum, a moment of silence followed by thunderous applause greeted his entrance. For the briefest second, he allowed himself the belief that it was for him, although he knew full well it was intended for Trelat. His unhurried approach toward the Stage became all but hidden to most everyone near the aisle when the audience rose as one and cheered the troubadour's latest song. In the prolonged commotion, Snaggit slipped past the excited patrons and took a seat next to a beautiful, red-headed woman dressed in a lavender gown with a deep, plunging neckline. When she finally registered his presence, she regarded him only with a casual glance before returning her attention to Trelat. Light music from the troubadour's lute quickly quieted the audience's appreciative din and had them resuming their seats and listening once more with rapt attention after only a handful of notes.

For a while, Snaggit sat and enjoyed Trelat's performance, too. However, as Snaggit admired the woman's beauty out of the corner of his eye, he also saw the matching money pouch hanging loosely from her waist sash. The temptation was too great for the die hard thief. Snaggit knew he needed a distraction but none availed itself.

His hand inched closer to its intended prize.

Snaggit was fully confident in his light touch since he had retrieved many harder-won prizes than this before. Still, a minor disruption would be of help to him.

As if on cue, the man to the lady's left coughed loudly.

Immediately, Snaggit seized on the moment and leaned behind her and shushed at the man harshly. The woman in lavender likewise looked at the offender and scowled at him. Snaggit smiled to himself and reached out to take hold of the dangling purse strings.

But, much to his surprise, her hand was squeezing his tightly before the knot could be loosened the least bit. Snaggit froze. It seemed like an eternity was passing between them as she held him fast. Options raced through his mind like arrow fire but one with any kind of pleasant end was not very forthcoming. A fight seemed inevitable: a fight he could not hope to win.

A moment later, the woman turned to Snaggit and locked his brown eyes with her light blue ones. "Do you know," she whispered loud enough for him alone to hear, "just how quickly I could have a dozen armed guards around you?"

"And do you know," he asked, "just how beautiful you look tonight, my lady?"

"Flatterer," the lavender-clad woman replied as she released Snaggit's errant hand and leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Just remember, we've not been together this long without me picking up on some of your tricks. One would also think that you'd be tiring of this 'game' you like to play whenever we out like this. But, I take it, that the 'business' you tended to earlier went better than this or else you'd not be here now."

"Indeed," was all Snaggit said as he affectionately slipped his hand on his lady's thigh and rubbed gently. The master thief could not tear his eyes away from her beautiful face even after her attention had returned to Trelat.

Irala Muün: wayfaring priestess of Korrmalin, the Horizon Walker, patron god of the road, travelers, merchants---and adventurers. Although Irala had spent more than half her thirty years of life in the clergy, she hardly looked it. By most outward appearances, Irala could have passed for being a lady of the court. Fine apparel was a daily mainstay, except on days of religious observance when she would don her well-traveled adventuring attire and conduct the proper ceremonies and sermons in whatever town she was residing in at the time. Apart from those occasions, it was only Korrmalin's constantly displayed holy symbol that revealed her true calling. The golden disc hung on a gilded rope necklace around Irala's neck, where it would brush the tops of her ample breasts, and was etched with a half visible sun beyond the horizon and a winding road heading toward it. Irala wore her shoulder-length, loosely curling auburn hair in a variety of styles and ways, depending on her mood, situation, or the local fashion. Her milky white skin was completely dappled with seemingly countless freckles which added an extra measure of beauty to her still youngish countenance. Irala also possessed the shapely figure other women endured the torture of a corset to attain and her natural skin tone allowed her the luxury of wearing only the bare minimums of facial colorations and enhancements. Many were the looks of disgust and envy she saw beneath thin smiles on other women when she would draw the attentions of their other halves when wearing one of her "simple" dresses. Even by the wide-ranging standards of most of Tiaceor's races, she was quite the beauty.

Irala's initial three years in the order had been spent traveling across much of western Tiaceor, assisting in restoring shrines that had been vandalized or destroyed. Korrmalin's temples and shrines were almost always rather small places of worship typically presided over by a single priest and his or her acolyte but there were also a great many unattended road side alters dedicated to the god where wanderers could offer up a prayer for a safe journey. Not long after receiving the honorific of curate , Irala was out on her own. Within a month, she had signed-on as part of a caravan heading to the city of Stellof. She had heard the stories of travelers being attacked whilst on the road and it was clear that the presence of a practitioner of the healing arts was a welcome addition to their number.

It was during this fateful journey that Irala received her "second calling".

While their destination was still several days away from Stellof, the caravan was besieged by the same notorious raiders she had heard about. The first round of arrows fired into the caravan had the uncanny luck of striking dead the leader of the adventuring company who had hired on to protect the procession of wagons. With their morale severely shaken by the loss, it was all the defenders could do to just hold their attackers at bay.

Despite her lack of experience and limited prowess in combat, Irala felt a sudden desire to act, as though divinely inspired. Leaping from the relative safety of the circle of twenty wagons, Irala charged out into the midst of the marauders, her twin-bladed sword leading the way. Her weapon struck without error, slaying all whom it hit. Although wounded by a few arrows and a like number of sword slashes, the enraged priestess still continued her advance through the raiders. The seasoned group of adventurers could only watch in awe as this lone and impossibly brave woman literally fought the battle single-handedly.

For a full minute, no one noticed that Irala was no longer running but just standing. Instead, she was looking down at her most recent kill. It took everyone just a little longer to realize what she had done. Irala had delivered a crushing blow of her own to the bandits: their leader lay dead at her feet.

Inspired by Irala's heroism, every member of the wagon train still standing joined in the fray and quickly decimated the remaining marauders. It was only when their victory was complete that anyone noticed Irala's unconscious form lying across the bandit leader's corpse. For the remainder of the trip, the courageous cleric had even her smallest needs tended to without hesitation, from one sunrise to the next. A celebration in Irala's honor was given shortly after the convoy arrived in Stellof.

From that point on, Irala Muün started answering the siren call of an adventurer's life almost as faithfully as she performed her duties as a priestess of Korrmalin It was also how she met her lover, Snaggit. The priestess had originally intended to remain with his friends' adventuring group for a short time but the charming rogue stole her heart and she decided to stay. Their travels far and wide allowed her to follow the beliefs of her faith as well as sating her own wanderlust. In almost no time, the five of them became fast friends.

During the remainder of Trelat's concert, Irala and Snaggit flirted and teased each other remorselessly, though discreetly. By the time the evening's public entertainment was over and the bard took his final bows, the stimulated pair was more than ready for some of the private sort. Irala could feel her moistened pussy lips slipping smoothly against each other and getting wetter with her every step, eagerly anticipating both Snaggit's tongue and cock plunging deep inside her. As if to prolong her silent suffering, her paramour did not usher them out with the rest of the crowd. Instead, he guided her up to the stage where a dozen or so other patrons had also gathered, wanting to congratulate Trelat on his presentation. Predictably, they were the last to greet the master troubadour.

Oooooo! Irala raged silently, Just you wait, Snaggit Ansplit. Just you wait!

"An excellent performance, good sir!" Gainstan P. Gltis exclaimed as he tightly clasped the bard's proffered arm. Snaggit could hardly not notice the two young ladies as both were almost hugging each of Trelat's arms as Irala was to his own. "And such exquisite taste in female companions, as well. Talent and taste: a rare combination, indeed."

"My thanks, my lord," Trelat said with a slight nod of his head. "May I present Ladies Dedria Nikete and Ciji Keitra of Janda." The infatuated twosome just smiled.

"Gainstan P. Glits, at your service, miladies," Snaggit said with a bow. From Dedria's eye-widening reaction, Snaggit could tell that she, at least, recognized his name. "And this is Priestess Irala Muün, faithful of Korrmalin."

To Irala, the exchange of pleasantries and inconsequential chatter seemed to be going on forever. The annoying itch in her cunt had become a burning ache needing immediate attention. Irala squeezed Snaggit's arm with ever-increasing firmness, silently conveying her message to "shut-the-hell-up". From the looks on the young ladies' faces, Irala could tell that she was not the only one experiencing a large measure of sexual distress. Trelat's soon-to-be bedmates looked to be feeling just as randy as she.

They're playing with us! Korrmalin's priestess thought. Hummph! If I could be sure of their reaction, I'd take those two with me and leave our men to "entertain" themselves .

Mercifully, Gainstan quickly excused himself, stating the need to see to some pressing business early in the morning. Dedria and Ciji seemed just as thankful for their departure as Irala. The cleric tried hard to hurry Snaggit along upstairs but the master thief was a lot stronger than he appeared, forcing her to keep her pace slow.

No sooner had the door to their room shut behind them than Irala was kissing Snaggit with passion flamed hunger, her lips devouring his with unbridled lust. At first, the master thief tried to remain somewhat casual about things but his lady's fervent ministrations soon had him responding in kind. The incensed pair made their way awkwardly toward the big, comfortable, down-filled bed in the next room, kissing and removing their elegant attire all along their course. Irala fell back on the bed when she backed into it but not before she grabbed Snaggit and pulled him after her with a laugh.

Ever the one to take advantage of his circumstances, Snaggit took Irala's arms and held them above her head. For a moment, he looked lovingly into her eyes, then he lowered his head next to hers and blew lightly against Irala's ear. As ever, her body's reaction was to send a small shiver through her body. Her eyes closed as a moan of delight rumbled softly in her throat. Snaggit smiled. Aside from her more obvious erogenous zones, Irala's ears were her most sensitive spots and a lover's gentle touch on them was all it took to increase the heat spreading though her body.

Although she did not truly wish to free herself from Snaggit's gentle but firm hold, the adventuring priestess found herself hard pressed not to struggle if even in the slightest. Her lover's concentrated attention on her ears was almost driving her crazy. Irala could feel her breath getting short, her nipples tightened and tingled, and her pussy was oozing with more of her love juices. Already, she could feel the sensation of her first orgasm building inside her. She wanted to make him stop but she had been waiting most of the evening for exactly this. All during dinner the two had flirted, then again after Snaggit met her at Trelat's performance. It had been all she could do during his absence to keep from relieving herself right in the middle of the audience. But, now, she could hardly think of a reason not to enjoy a nice little orgasm---the first of a number to come.

Then, suddenly, Snaggit stopped and rolled over onto his back beside her.

"Beg pardon, sir," Irala said, her voice edged with mild irritation, "but I think you've started something here that needs finishing."

Snaggit just sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, my dear," he said finally, "but I find myself strangely lacking the energy to continue at the moment." Smiling, he looked at her and added, "Maybe if I had some 'encouragement', I might be able to accommodate you."

Irala turned on her side, propping herself up on an elbow. "Oh? And just what kind of 'encouragement' do you need?"

"The kind only you can provide, dearest."

Lazily, Irala slid her free hand over to Snaggit's stomach. His profuse body hair always excited her, making him seem like a very manly man. Irala loved the way it felt as she ran her fingers through his course, dark thatch. After a minute or two of making wide circles around his navel, she playfully grabbed a handful and tugged.

"MmmMmmm," Irala growled.

"Hmmm?" Snaggit inquired as he slowly opened one eye and looked at her. "I'm sorry, I must have started to doze-off. It just felt so good.”

“Oh, really?” Irala asked as she released his hair and gently gripped his partially erect cock. “What about this? Do you think this will make you fall asleep too?”

“I imagine it will,” Snaggit said, feeling the blood rushing in and engorging his shaft. “But not until after we're done. . .”

At first, Irala stroked her man's prick slowly but stepped up the pace of her motions as it hardened and lengthened. While Snaggit did not have the longest cock it had been her pleasure to enjoy, he did have the thickest. The only one that even came close belonged to the leader of their adventuring group. Although she and Snaggit had yet to be formally joined by the Union ceremony, they felt and acted as if they already had been and remained, for the most part, monogamous and faithful to each other.

But this was not to say they limited their sexual activities.

On quite a number of occasions, typically after a rather lucrative adventure, they and the three other members of their group would rent the largest and most expensive suite in the nearest town and indulge in a group-exclusive orgy. Sometimes an attractive local barmaid or handsome stable hand---or both---would be invited to join in but those times were rare and the exception to the rule. Between the five, there was hardly an avenue of sexual pleasure left unexplored.

With Snaggit's cock at full attention, Irala turned and lay her head across her lover's stomach. His rampant appendage was almost touching her nose. As she admired its manly magnificence, she noticed some initial seepage leaking from the piss hole. "Mmmmm, yummy," Irala said as she stuck out her tongue to catch it.

* * * *

Trelat moaned in obvious delight as Ciji's blue painted lips engulfed as much of his dick as her mouth could take. Her sexual inexperience was clear but she made up for that lack with her eager desire. She longed to see what she had been missing out on with a far more skilled lover than she had yet known. "That's it," Trelat encouraged her, "Nice and slow. No need to rush."

"How about this?" Ciji asked as she fluttered her tongue rapidly across his glans. His throaty reply was all the answer she needed. The attractive brunette continued nursing on Trelat's cock like a suckling calf.

Dedria was feeling a little envious of her cousin . When the virginal Dedria she got her first sight of Trelat's erection, she hesitated because it looked so large and intimidating to her. Ciji took the initiative and stepped in where Dedria really wanted to be. Ciji had lost her maiden flower to a stable-hand she seduced a year ago but that one time seemed to embolden her into a further exploration of her sexuality---including introducing the both of them to how women could please each other. While the secretly promiscuous vixens used slender wooden phalluses in place of "the real thing", Ciji was always very careful not to deflower her cousin. "Only a real man should have that honor," she told her during a few of their trysts. In fact, her early birthday present to Dedria was the real reason for tagging along with Ciji's father's caravan to Janda in the first place: getting Dedria fucked by a man. She just hoped Ciji would not get too carried away and forget.

Trelat unknowingly broke Dedria's concerned train of thought as he reached over and drew her to him. Mindful of their relative naivety, he began by kissing her tenderly. When she responded eagerly to his touch, Trelat eased his tongue into her mouth. To Trelat, her mouth tasted almost sweet and her tongue felt as soft as a rose petal.

A warm flush ran through Dedria. Suddenly, the blond virgin found herself rubbing a slightly trembling hand across her lover's firm chest before she was even aware she wanted to do so. His muscles felt good and somehow reassuring to her. As she and Ciji often did to each other, Dedria pinched one of Trelat's nipples between her fingers and massaged it. She let out a small gasp when he did likewise to one of hers. His touch was the same as Ciji's, but just as equally different; gentle and loving yet confident and bold. Dedria smashed her mouth and tongue harder against his.

Ciji had been overcome by cocksucker's lust and was taking all of Trelat's length down her throat. Her first couple of tries nearly made her gag on his swollen prong but she was soon able to relax her throat muscles enough to accept his size with ease. To increase her pleasure, Ciji reached down and gently rubbed her clitty. The sensation was incredible! It felt as if her mouth and pussy had been magically linked together and she was getting a good fucking in both at the same time. As if a confirmation of what she was feeling, Ciji's vaginal juices were flowing almost like water between her legs and down the crack of her ass. She could feel a lovely come steadily building within her and was determined to climax just as Trelat flooded her mouth with his seed.

The stimulation Trelat was receiving from his not-so-timid lover impelled the bard into taking more brazen action with the other. While he maintained his hold on Dedria's nipple, Trelat rolled partially onto his right side so he could use his left hand to explore the folds of her young slit. He felt her stomach quiver slightly as his hand slowly caressed its way down her firm midriff. In contrast to Ciji's abundant patch of pubic hair, Dedria had only a narrow stripe of silky blond curls barely an inch wide and a finger-length long that ended just above her tight outer labia. As Trelat slipped a finger just between her cunt lips, she pressed her pelvis against his welcome intrusion in an effort to get his digit fully within her wetness.

A smile pulled at Trelat's mouth as he continued to kiss her. My , he thought, but she's a willing little nymph, isn't she? Seeing no real reason to deny her her desire any longer, Trelat pushed his finger home. A realization came to him like a sudden clap of thunder as he grazed her still-intact maiden flower. So, that's what this is all about! She wants me to be her first lover---or, at least, that's what her cousin has more than likely arranged for her . Trelat felt a bit humbled by this unexpected development. True, he had had more than his fair share of maiden lovers during his travels, but he had selected them, not the reverse. Trelat vowed to himself to make this one's first time the most unforgettable of her life.

The young Lady Nikete was grinding her burning crotch against her lover's hand for all she was worth, secretly wanting his whole hand inside her. Her love sessions with Ciji had been wonderful enough, but left her wanting more. The slim rods her cousin used in place of a real cock had made her come more times than she could ever count, but with each of her orgasms, Dedria grew more and more impatient for "the real thing". Several times at home, she tried using a length of broom handle on herself but always lacked the courage to get any more of it in her than just a finger's length past the rounded end. Trelat's finger was shorter than the faux cocks she and Ciji used on each other but felt far better as it swirled around inside her soaking snatch. Dedria still felt a little intimidated by Trelat's impressive member but could hardly wait to be impaled on his manly meat.

As his young lover's gyrations became ever wilder, the master bard decided to change his pleasuring tactic for her benefit as well as his own. Before completing her transition into womanhood, Trelat felt desirous of a taste of her sweet and unsullied snatch. Taking Dedria by her firm, albescent ass, he pulled her up atop him until she was straddling his face. Immediately he plunged his tongue into her exposed cleft. The master bard was far from disappointed with the succulent delicacy his lingua found waiting within. Her effusion was thick and syrupy like honey with just a slight hint of musk to it. Trelat gobbled hungrily at Dedria's dripping cunt .

It only took a few minutes of Trelat's persistent lapping before both Dedria and he felt their respective orgasms racing toward them. Of course, this was perfectly okay with Ciji as she was about to cream all over her her busy fingers in anticipation for Trelat's warm seed.

Their combined coming ran through them like a flood of delight As Dedria's cunthole spasmed and contracted, she ground her crotch harder and harder against Trelat's tongue and swore oaths and profanities the bard only heard coming from the mouths of seasoned sailors. While Trelat drank down every drop of her creamy goodness, he felt a tenseness grip his balls just before he shot his load into Ciji's expectant mouth. One spurt followed another as his cock emptied itself. At the same time Trelat's first eruption flooded her maw, Ciji's honey pot spilled its contents all over her rapidly moving hand and the unturned bed covers.

Momentarily spent, the trio just lay together and cuddled. Trelat never tired of the joy of having two women share his bed. Tenderly, he stroked their hair as their hands busied themselves on first his chest then his slightly softened erection which started to come back to full attention at their touch. Trelat smiled. It was going to be quite a night.

* * * *

"Now, how was that?" Snaggit asked as he brought his head up from its work between Irala's legs. Thick, milky white ribbons of pussy juice still hung from the short hairs of his mustache and were smeared across his chin.

Instead of replying immediately, the satisfied priestess took a moment to stretch herself and catch her breath. Once more, Snaggit's expert mouth and tongue had sent her soaring to glorious heights, culminating in a series of orgasms that made her feel replete.

"Mmmmmmm. . ." Irala purred. "That was wonderful. Now, why don't you try improving my mood even more by slipping that beautiful cock of yours into me and make me scream your name loud enough for the gods to hear?"

As Snaggit positioned himself for his friendly assault, he stopped momentarily and gave his lady love a smile. He moved forward slowly until the tip of his iron-hard manhood brushed through the petals Irala's pussy lips, then Snaggit thrust his hips forward and entered her fully. As Irala gasped with his entry, the master thief answered with a soft growl. The lining of her love tunnel stretched until it fit around his rampant cock like a tight fitting glove. Some of her cuntal lubrication overflowed their union as Snaggit squished into her a little further. For a long moment, they just enjoyed the sensation of his initial penetration. He once posed the question if eternity felt even remotely as good as it felt being inside her.

"I hope so," was all Irala would ever say.

Slowly, Snaggit pulled out until just his cockhead remained buried within. Then, with a similar unhurried pace, he pushed his dong back in until his thick, brown pubic hairs mingled with Irala's dark red ones. Stroke after stroke, Snaggit incrementally increased the speed of his thrusts until his balls were slapping noisily against Irala's ass. By the time Snaggit was giving her his all, Irala was riding the crest of one intense orgasm after another. The steady flow of her juices was making an ever-growing wet spot on the covers.

Unable to hold back any longer, Snaggit jammed his prick home one final time as it started spewing thick globs of cum. The muscles in his cock stalk contracted in rhythm with ever jet of his seed he squirted into Irala.

“ Ahhhhhh . . ! ” he moaned excitedly as the last drop was pumped out.

While the pair were momentarily spent, Snaggit and Irala were by no means finished with each other. After taking a minute to catch their breath, they quickly, but carefully, traded places without losing their intimate connection.

“Eewww!” Snaggit protested as he sat his ass in the wet spot.

Irala smiled. “Now, how do you like it?”

“More importantly,” the master thief asked as he pushed up into her, burying himself to the hilt, “How do you like this ?”

* * * *

"Oh, my gods!" Dedria exclaimed as Trelat's dick penetrated her for the first time. The tearing of her maiden flower was mercifully quick and what little blood there was mixed with her thick pussy nectar and served to make the passage of the welcome intruder even easier. At first, the nervous young woman was not sure she would be able to take all of Trelat's length inside her. But, inch by inch, his seemingly huge prong disappeared into her tight hole. Once Dedria was sitting flat astride Trelat's thighs, she could hardly believe how wonderful it felt. She could feel the head of his cock pressing against the entrance to her womb as her cuntal muscles rippled and expanded to accommodate him. Dedria held his initial entry for several long seconds before slowly bringing her hips up a little then pushing them back down. Though but a single stroke, it still caused Dedria to cum. Her senses reeled and blackness licked at the outer rim of her sight. The only sound she could utter was a loud gasp of pure ecstasy.

Slowly at first, the maiden-become-woman started humping up and down on the prick stuffed in her cleft. As she increased her speed, the conscious-stealing blackness retreated and a warm flush spread throughout her body. Despite the pleasant breeze from the open window and the cool temperatures that were the harbinger of Leafturn, to Dedria it felt as if it was the middle of Highsun. Small beads of sweat dotted her brow and bathed her in a soft glaze of moisture, her breaths coming in pants as she continued humping up and down on Trelat's cock.

While her cousin got the first real fuck of her life, Ciji was hardly content to sit idly by and let her own desires go unfulfilled. She too wanted to experience, the expert tonguing Dedria had enjoyed just minutes before. Straddling Trelat's face, but still facing Dedria, Ciji lowered her dripping pussy onto the bard's waiting mouth. Almost immediately she felt his tongue probing deep within her. What a difference experience makes! she thought as her eyes rolled back in their sockets from pure delight. When she could once more see straight, Ciji watched Dedria as she bounced ever harder up and down on Trelat's prong. Dedria's face was contorted in a mixture of relief, determination, and concentration. Ciji could not help but wonder if she would be wearing a similar face when it was her turn.

Meanwhile, Trelat was thoroughly enjoying providing a double helping of pleasure to
his young lovers. In the hamlet of Solneagles, a mere speck on most any map located half
way between Stellof and Janda (and Trelat's most recent stop), the bard was entreated to
the simultaneous affections of a local farmer's wife and two daughters but was interrupted
by the man's unexpected early arrival home from town. But such were his risks in being so
ardent of a lover---along with the minor concern about becoming the unknowing father to
unexpected children. Of course , Trelat often reminded himself, that's why the gods made
the unique properties of maiden weed and gentleman's wort known to us. Why, without
them, we 'd have probably been up to our armpits in people centuries ago . A somewhat
impatient moan from the young lady sitting on his face and gyrating wildly brought Trelat's
attention back to what he was doing.

Though perfectly content to enjoy her ride atop Trelat's magnificent erection, when Ciji started caressing her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and tonguing her mouth, Dedria found herself rising to ever-increasing heights of blissful rapture. It was not long before she was returning Ciji's touch, loving their familiar intimacy. Dedria was also feeling a deep aching building within her pussy, punctuated with every lunge from below. As her breath became shorter and shorter, she knew an extremely intense orgasm was fast approaching and it would only be a matter of several more wonderful thrusts before she would succumb.

The young Lady Keitra was about to cum. Grinding her snatch even faster and harder against Trelat's mouth, she hoped to hasten the onset of her climax to match her cousin's timing as well as the master bard's.

Even though Trelat knew he could hold out for sometime yet, the accommodating bard decided it would be to his shame if he did so. Who was he to deprive so willing a pair of lovers of a feeling of completeness he could provide? Of course, fucking into a nice, tight snatch like Dedria's was a definite help.

* * * *

Irala felt as though her nipples were on fire as Snaggit's hands massaged her breasts but left their very tips untouched. She strove to meet each one of his upward thrusts, which were coming in rapid-fire succession, with a downward one of her own. Reaching down with a free hand, Irala diddled her stiff love bud. The burning turned into a deep, longing need, crying out for satisfaction.

With each stroke, Snaggit could feel the slight pressure in his groin growing just a little stronger and more urgent for release. He knew what he was doing to Irala probably felt a lot like torture but he wanted to wait for just the right moment before adding to her already heightened pleasure. Besides , he thought, she does like it when I do it like this .

* * * *

A final, deep thrust from Trelat was all it took to push Dedria over the orgasmic edge. Her head was swimming and her whole body shook and spasmed as she came atop Trelat's rock-hard cock. A veritable deluge of pussy juice bathed her lover's member with liquid love and was making a delightful squishing sound. She had never felt so sexually complete and fulfilled before Dedria wanted the feeling to last forever though she knew it would not. Her young body tingled all over and the light breeze blowing in through the window only served to intensify the glowing sensation sweeping through her.

But the former maiden was not alone in reaching the heights of ecstasy.

Trelat held his final stroke as he felt his manhood tense up just before it exploded inside the oh-so-willing cunt he was fucking. As the first jet of his cum shot deep into Dedria, he felt her snatch ripple and grab at his prick. Ahhhhh! he mentally sighed as he kept pushing his tongue into Ciji's quim, sensing that her orgasm was fast-approaching. There's nothing like perfect timing .

Right on cue, the young Lady Keitra climaxed on the talented tongue delving into her wet slit, drenching Trelat's mouth and chin. Ciji gave her cousin's nipples a harder tweak when she realized Dedria was cumming too and was more than delighted when she received the same in return. Suddenly feeling a deep pang of love for Dedria, Ciji leaned forward and kissed her, slipping her tongue into her mouth.

Dedria and Ciji rode Trelat a little longer before the trio cuddled together on the bed, sexually spent for the moment. The bard applied his usual charm as he quietly wooed the love-struck pair, telling them how impressed he was with them and how skilled they were, as well as how good he felt about them choosing him to be Dedria's first male lover. Still blinded by their infatuation with him, the pair just drank in his praise and sighed, dreaming wistfully that more than just a lusty night of fantastic sex would come of their union.

Trelat felt no guilt about what he was telling his young lovers. And why should he? It had long been his experience that all women—no matter the race—needed to hear how well they pleased their lovers just as much as men and holding them close let them feel as if they were as loved as a lifemate would be.

If even for a little while.

It was not long before their tender embrace became further foreplay heralding another session of coupling. The trio remained occupied in their carnal pursuits far into the night, until the midnight blue in the east had faded to just a deep blue, with dawn only a couple of hours away.

* * * *

In their suite, Snaggit and Irala had long since succumbed to blissful slumber, unaware of what the new day would bring.

* * * *

The late morning suns were shining brightly, their rays streaming through the open, and seemingly unprotected, window of Trelat's room and warming the sleeping troubadour. In his dreams, Trelat was vividly revisiting his amorous evening with Ciji and Dedria, as well as conjuring up images of pleasures yet to be explored with them.

"Trelat," a voice called out to him.

"Mmmmm?" the bard hummed as he rolled over onto his side then mumbled, "Yes, my dear?" It was only when his searching arm found an empty space where one of his young lovers should have been that he began to stir to wakefulness.

“Trelat Sylvain!” the voice said again, demanding to be heard.

Why am I being addressed so formally? Trelat wondered sleepily. With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes just wide enough to see. Observing no one to his right, the bard rolled to his left, still seeking his paramours from last evening. But, instead of his ladies, he found only more emptiness---and a surprise visitor standing barely an arm's length away from the bed. Startled, Trelat sat up bolt-right. It only took a few moments for his still sleep-hazed mind to register three interesting facts about the person before him.

First, the richly brown-skinned woman was completely naked. A true vision of beauty were the first words Trelat could think of to describe her. Her exquisite figure seemed to be the very definition of womanhood. Natural, loosely curling raven tresses cascaded just over her firm, round shoulders, serving to only further accentuate her loveliness.

But any thoughts Trelat may have had of bedding this newcomer were pushed into the recesses of mind when the second fact about her became apparent: she was just an image. While still a sight, Trelat realized her body was as translucent as a ghost. Magical projections of this nature were hardly rare and were frequently used by powerful spellcasters as a means of communication since it provided them with a comfortable measure of safety and security, for them and their magetowers. Normally, a personal confrontation with such a powerful sorceress would have made Trelat exceptionally nervous, but it was her familiar face that put him at immediate ease.

And that was the third thing.

"Greetings, Dyanara," Trelat said with a smile. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Are they near?" the sorceress asked, not wanting to waste any of her spell's duration on pleasantries.

"'And good day to you, Trelat,'" the bard replied to himself in a female tone before he responded to her inquiry. "And, yes, they're not far from here, though what they're doing at the moment I can't say." Trelat's eyebrows furrowed as a question came to him. "Can your spell follow me---without being so noticeable?"

"Yes, but you'll have to be quick about it."

"Oh, just keep your. . ." Trelat began as he got out of bed before he realized the irony of his comment. "Never mind." Throwing on some casual attire, he dressed as quickly as he could and was putting his second shoe on as Dyanara's image shooed him to the door. Opening the door slightly, Trelat took a cautious peek into the hallway. Seeing that it was clear, he turned to motion his sorceress friend to follow but was surprised when instead of her naked form standing behind him there was only a small, softly glowing ball of greenish blue light floating at eye-level. Trelat cocked an eyebrow in response, closed his mouth, then motioned for it/her to follow.

The bard's casual gate down the corridor betrayed none of the feelings tumbling around in the pit of his stomach. While it was not unusual for Dyanara to use her magic to deliver messages to her absent friends, most often she used either self-reading scrolls or what she identified as one of her "helper spirits", depending on the urgency of the situation. Never had she sent an image of herself to convey one "personally".

Until now.

The implications were disturbing. But Trelat had neither the time or the desire to consider them as his course quickly brought him to his intended destination. He hesitated for only a moment before knocking on the door to Lord Gainstan Glits' suite. Not wanting to compromise his friend's dual identity, Trelat continued the charade already in place.

"My lord?" he said in a moderate and cautious tone. "Please forgive the intrusion, but may I beg a moment of your time?" For what seemed to be half an eternity there was only silence. Trelat wondered if they had already departed since such had happened previously on several occasions. But a grunt and a loud yawn from within assured the bard that this was not going to be another one of those times.

"Who is it?" demanded a muffled but clearly irritated voice. "And what do you want at such an early time of day?"

"It is I, Trelat Sylvain, my lord. Again, I regret my trespass but I found milady's blue robe in the bath and wanted to return it to her." Trelat hoped his emphasis on those three words would not be lost on Lord Glits.

He need not have worried.

"Oh, alright. Enter, but be quick about it!"

His friends' quarters were equally capacious and luxurious as his but such details hardly mattered at the moment. Reclining against a pile of pillows were two of his long-time companions and fellow adventurers. From the look of things, Trelat could tell that he had nearly barged in on them while they would have been otherwise occupied. The steady up and down motion of Irala's hand under the covers was all the proof he needed of that.

"And where is this blue robe?" Snaggit inquired, noting the lack of the same.

Undaunted, Trelat took a half step to the side. "Right here."

Suddenly revealed, the tiny ball of light that had been hidden behind the bard was gone and in its place stood Dyanara's image. Snaggit and Irala's surprise to the sorceress being there was at least as great as Trelat's had been---once his mind had had a chance to clear the remaining cobwebs away and realize what was going on.

"Brightday, dear friends," Dyanara began with a smile as she took a few paces toward the bed, followed closely by Trelat. However, in a heartbeat, the sorceress's smile was no more and she continued on in a very somber tone. "My spell's time is short and I have so much to tell you that any questions you may have must wait until I am finished." Taking a breath, Dyanara plunged into the ugly details of her vision.

"It all started the day after my robe ceremony on Steeshata. . ."

* * * *

The money bags containing the day's revenue jingled heavily in Psalmanazar's grasp as he opened the concealed and protected coffer in the wall of his small bedchamber located in the Silent Lady's basement. While no one would probably have currently believed it of him, in his younger days Psalmanazar had also been a thief. However, fifteen years of retirement saw his formerly lean and wiry frame gain almost seventy stones---though not a bit of it was fat. The innkeeper's barrel-like body was every bit as solid as a plow horse and his muscular arms were almost as big as his legs had been in his younger days, and all due to his everyday activities around the inn. This made it equally hard to imagine him as being a former thief (aside from the Lady's slightly higher-than-usual prices). Psalmanazar's thick, bushy, graying beard stood out in sharp contrast to his continually receding hair line. His rich brown eyes always seemed to sparkle whenever a new guest checked in and was always accompanied by a warm and generous smile. Likewise, his baritone voice rarely held any anger, unless he was dealing with a particularly rude or very disruptive visitor. Fortunately, trouble at the Lady was rare at the worst, if for no other reason than Psalmanazar's sheer size. His retirement years had been kind to the man and he was content with his current life and livelihood.

But Psalmanazar would always be a thief at heart.

As the small door swung open, his ever-keen eyes noticed a small green painted dot exposed through a small hole in the back of the box where a black one should have been. He immediately dropped the sacks of coins onto his bed as if they were unimportant. Pressing on the corners of the back wall in a specific sequence, it clicked then leaned inward, revealing yet another concealed compartment. Within it sat three more bags of money, though one was a little fuller than the other two. Psalmanazar opened the spring-loaded doors above the catch box to see if there was any more up there before removing the contents. A gentle draft wafted down through the long shaft's opening, betraying how the obviously ill-gotten money had found its way into his possession. Satisfied that there was no more, the thief-turned-innkeeper reset the panel.

While he did not encourage his former colleagues to steal from his guests during either of their stays at the Lady, neither did Psalmanazar really do anything to stop them from doing so. It was just understood that he received one-fifth of their take in return for providing them with the opportunity for some relatively easy pickings. Over the years, he had tried various drop methods but none worked as well as the Chute, which worked just as it sounded it would. To smooth things over if a patron was plucked too clean, the cost for that guest's room and meals would be waived and an extra long stay in a suite or an equal line of credit in the gambling hall would be offered to the injured party. The latter always proved to be the more tempting option though almost all so taken in by the lure of "free money" left with as much as they had started with: little or nothing.

By the way the drawstrings were knotted, Psalmanazar knew that at least three of his guests had been peers but the note he found in the largest bag was a bit of a surprise. He opened it carefully, half-expecting it to be some kind of trick or trap. Instead, it just read:

Greetings Nazar,

Enjoyed my stay. . .

As usual, here's your cut of my take plus a little extra for the guild. . .

I'll see you next time I'm in town. . .

Snag

For several minutes, all Psalmanazar could do was sit there and stare unbelievably at the short message, his jaw hanging open.

Then he smiled and started to laugh, softly at first then as if having a fit.

Oh, yes, you will, Snaggit , Psalmanazar thought as his mind raced trying to determine which one of his guests his "old friend" had been while he rubbed the stump where his left pinky finger used to be. Oh, yes you will!!

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