A Price Paid Ch. 02

As she drew closer, Lenare raised herself upon her elbows while spreading and drawing her legs upward as she spread them so that she could watch the scene to be just so. She ached to see a woman on her, see a woman's eyes looking up at her, see and know that that tongue was what was causing her so much pleasure. For the next hour or so she could pretend that she was with a lover that was hers and that all was as it should be.

Between kisses that trailed upward, Mira spoke, "You want to watch, do you? Want to watch me eat that wet pussy?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Ask nicely."

She was enjoying the tease, so that and the heat built only made her sound a tiny bit desperate, "Please eat my pussy. Please, please, please."

"Ask again," she whispered.

This time, the corner of her mouth turned upward, "Eat my pussy...or give me back my money."

Mira laughed an honest laugh, "Oooo, there's that soldier's backbone." Her eyebrows went up in a shrug, "Well, then, since you did pay, I want to keep my money, and you're already nicely wet and on display, I may as well."

She dipped in with no further delay, knowing just how to do what the other needed. While she may have started out tentative because of the nature of the exchange, this woman was no stranger to aggression and wanted a women to want her and to be unashamed of the fact. Mira was certainly unashamed. A job was a job and she would do what it took to complete it. She licked. She ate. She feasted, lapping away as the two communicated with one another through eye contact.

That tongue awed Lenare. She was soooo good. It wasn't just the licking, though the woman knew other women, it was that she knew Lenare wanted a show and was giving her one. It was in the eye contact that displayed wickedness. It was in the sounds of enjoyment from her; the moaning and lip smacking. It was how Mira would pull away from licking so that Lenare could watch the saliva pour from her tongue and onto that cunt. She liked to think her pussy was good enough to make Mira drool. It was in how Mira's hands kept her knees spread like she needed to eat like she needed to eat and be eaten the same as she did.

Mira would drive her, let her plateau, and then drive her to higher heights, enjoying how those nipples stayed erect, and how the breathing slowly gave way to panting. She liked how the woman would squirm trying to keep that tongue working and try to drive herself to orgasm. Try as she might to never close her eyes, Lenare did because it was beautifully overwhelming.

Mira did too, but her purpose was to know where her little helper was and to nudge her along; to leave a little hint of instinct here and there like a trail of crumbs to keep her in the shadows. In Mira's mind, she could see her coiling around the cot and inching her way to the mattress. Then she could feel it slither over the back of her leg and come forward, drawn between the legs of her Mistress via the callings of her and the natural heat of her pussy while Mira's body obscured its movement.

She licked and teased, keeping Lenare where she needed her to be; heart pounding and blood rushing just so, using the whines and pants as tells as much as anything else, having her at the place where just a few more seconds of aggressive play would send her over the edge. And the barest touch to the nerve bundles that qualified as the serpent's mind was all that was needed for one lightning quick strike on Lenare's inner thigh before it pulled back and darted behind her knee and away.

The sharp, sudden pain that felt like an insect bite jerked her free of the moment, "Ow." she came up to check herself as Mira pulled away. She looked to see the tiny punctures in her skin with a drop of blood welling up from each, and the area around them already swelling and turning a pale yellow. "What was...?" At first the notion of a rodent entered her mind, but, before she finished the thought, her eye caught the movement of red tipped scales as they tried to burrow into a hole in the mattress.

"Shit." She moved to her knees and doubled her fist, ready to bash the lump in the mattress before Mira interposed her body between them as she called the small snake back to her. "Don't hurt her, she's just being who she is." The snake crawled up the back of her hand. 'It's all right, Ena. You were just doing what you do, weren't you, sweetie?" She looked to Lenare who was clearly stunned by the whole affair, eyes wide and filled with confusion. "Don't worry, it works fast."

"What?"

Mira scooted from the bed, Ena cupped in her hand as she stepped past her to drop her in the handbag. "It works fast. It won't hurt. In fact," she continued as she closed it with a snap, "it feels very nice. I made sure of that."

Lenare looked back to the bag, "What are you talking about? Why?"

"She's a Sitan. They are very rare, but very dangerous. Ordinarily one bite is almost always fatal. One in a thousand might survive because the toxin is particularly vicious, as it attacks all of the body's systems at one time. That broad a poison is ideal for magic to tweak; enhance this element here, mute that element there and you can do almost anything with it." She was quite proud of herself. "It's one of the Goddess's greatest gifts for those that know how to truly make use of it."

"Magic?" Her heart began to race, and she wasn't sure if it was caused by what was now flowing inside her or the fear that was building. "Forbidden magic?"

All magics but those that made for simple parlor tricks or for healing had been banned generations upon generations after mages had been driven from society and to near extinction by a people that let their lack of understanding turn to fear and paranoia until there was finally swift and brutal action. There had been a call to ban it in all of its forms, but the simple magics were thought to be harmless in and of themselves, and the healing magics were simply deemed to valuable to be allowed to be lost. The study or use of any other type of magic was punishable by death. As with anything else that was forbidden, however, forbidding something didn't mean no one practiced it.

"Technically, no," Mira said pridefully. "All the magics I use with Ena are, in practice, healing magics of one type or another. "What she's priming you for though?" She snickered as she drew closer to soldier once again. "That's incredibly illegal. You feel it, don't you?" She began, stroking her hair, examining her eyes, watching the pupils begin to dilate. "Yes, you do. Your body feels cool and tingly now, doesn't it? Like there's a mountain spring flowing through your veins, but it's not too cold. It's just enough to be pleasant." She knew it was true because her nipples were harder now than they had been only minutes before.

"But...why?"

Mira's brow furrowed and she shook her head in the smallest "All in due time, dear. All in due time." She looked the other up and down. Such complex changes in chemistry were difficult and took so much effort that it was a shame not to take the opportunity to sit back and observe the results. There was also a clinical aspect of it all in that she could watch for unforeseen effects or reactions that might change her responses. Or, in the best of circumstances, lead to new avenues of study and discovery.

That and she honestly liked watching her handiwork work.

Lenare's eyes looked downward, then left and right and back again, as though she were looking inside herself, trying to figure out what might be coming next. Mira wasn't wrong though. The cool, tingly feeling wasn't unpleasant. It was like stepping from the desert into an ice box where the cool would wash over you and take the brutal suffering of baking in the sun away. But, for Lenare, the feeling was on the inside and it radiated upward to her skin. "Please stop this. I don't know what you want. I'm not anybody special. I don't have anything to give you."

"There you are," Mira said with a smile. You've been just standing here for three, maybe four minutes staring off into space. Do you remember?"

Lenare puzzled because she didn't. She'd simply blanked. There was no space between one moment of awareness and the next.

And you do have something to give me. You." Mira continued to examine her. "I think I can do something about that cold now. With that, her hand went to Lenare's breast , cupped it, and then dragged her fingertips in a circle around the areola before pulling it roughly. Trails of fire dragged behind the touch which made the woman shiver and the not quite pain from the pulled nipple made her gasp. The nerves shot heat throughout her body.

"I have to go."

Her voice conveyed her indifference. "Nothing's really stopping you at this point." Mira's hand ran over her belly as she moved to stand behind her, her hands beginning a seductive massage of her back. "There's nothing paralyzing you, really. You could try to make a break for it. To be fair, you won't get far, but there's nothing keeping you from trying. Except my touch. You like my touch. You liked it before and you like it now. My hands caressing you, thumbs pressing ever so gently but firmly as they travel up your back."

Lenare's sigh was deep.

"You feel the warmth of my touch. The warmth from my body to yours. Feel how the warmth goes from skin, then to muscle, then to bone. Your body remembers my touch. The pleasant chill is being washed away by the warmth, but the warmth is lovely too, isn't it?"

"I feel..."

Mira cocked her head in honest curiosity, It was nice to get feedback on her work, especially from her victims, as that was helpful in crafting. "What do you feel, Lenare?"

She didn't answer. The bite was pulsing with her heartbeat. It was sort of fascinating and making it hard to think of anything else. There was poison inside her and she should get help and someone told her nothing was keeping her where she was. But the pulse was so compelling and the warmth and the feel of hands gently roaming her felt so nice, she really saw no need to move, then the thought of doing so fled her mind, too.

Mira was untroubled by the fact that Lenare's mind had slipped away again. It was supposed to, after all. It took almost two years to develop the toxin that she wanted, one that would divorce certain layers of a mind from the rest in just the right way. "That's all right, lovely. You float and be happy and be empty for a while."

She stopped massaging the other's back and moved closer to her, pressing their bodies together and moving her hand between Lenare's legs, over the soft hair and down to the pussy where the mixed wetness from her pussy and Mira's tongue could still be felt. Her first two fingers pressed over the other's clit and began to circle the nub of flesh, pausing occasionally to place it between those fingers as she circled, adding to the pressure. Mira took a breath, closed her eyes, rested her head against Lenare's shoulder and resigned herself to the fact that her clinical ministrations at this point were going to take as long as they would take.

Minutes dragged with nothing but the sound of the two women breathing together and the sounds of an increasingly wet pussy being ministered to. The only warning was two deep breaths before a long, low sleepy moan came from Lenare, as though she had cum gloriously in a dream, but couldn't pull herself from slumber. Then there was another that was slightly quieter, but no less intense. Even if she'd been awake and with all her faculties she wouldn't have had words for it. All that was left to her was instinct now and a desire to keep hold of the warm, cocooned, dreamy feeling that took away everything else. It seemed to emanate from a place between her legs, a wellspring of heat that seemed to be in a constant eruption.

When it ebbed for a moment, instinct drove her own fingers to the spot and the heat rushed again. She rubbed faster and was rewarded with another languid, nearly thoughtless orgasm. The empty moan that came with it extended the sensations

Mira was in front of her now, enjoying the blankness in her expression and the emptiness behind those once expressive eyes. "You're feeling good, aren't you, Lenare?"

Her mind recognized what it had been named and that a question had been asked of it. A question had been asked about how it felt, not about how it thought. It wasn't thinking anymore. All there was was instinct. "Yes."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." 'For what?' never occurred.

A hand touched her arm and pulled her gently. She felt herself turn and then pressure on her shoulders that instinct told her meant 'down.' She sat, and instinct spread her legs so she could stimulate the wellspring better. Mira looked at her and she looked beautiful like that. She looked even more beautiful empty-eyed and blank-faced. The rubbing, empty thing was a testament to her own skill.

She worked her magic, placing her hands on either side of the little thing's skull. "You want this."

The heat. The sensations. There was no question. "Yes."

"Your little mind is just about mine, isn't it, soldier girl?

"Yes."

"I'm going to tell you what to do and you will do it."

"Yes."

"I'm going to show you exactly how now."

"Yes."

Words entered her ears and they created images in her mind. With no other thoughts to get in the way, they became everything.

She rubbed, surrendered to lazy rapture now and again, and listened.

* * *

The markets of Erette were always lively places. As the lifeblood of consumerism for the city and the kingdom as a whole, all of them were almost always bustling with throngs of people buying, selling, and bartering to make the world go round. They were also, in many ways, a physical manifestation of the stratification of the society, though that had been less of an issue under the rule of Queen Evaline, who never held the beliefs that still had a firm place in the world, namely that the people that were descended from slaves from various conquered lands and those for whom the Goddess had not favored with wealth were somehow lesser beings that deserved their lot.

The poorer sections tended towards handmade, sturdy, simple goods though many travelers tended towards those because, for the most part, when on some sort of adventure, grand or not, simple was better, though one could find sword makers and weavers there that could rival the upper markets, which were home to the finest of goods in the land and the known world, and, it was said, some parts unknown.

The city itself was a monument to that stratification. The paths in and out were fine, well-maintained stone streets that wound outward and upward from the docks and, while the walls were now more hedge work, flowering vines, and artistic gateways that monuments had been built around, but one could still travel from the have-nots to the haves and know exactly where you were in the grand scheme.

In an area above the markets that was once, generations before, was a literal wall, it had been pared down and changed so that part of it could now serve as an outdoor dining space for the small restaurant that made use of it. It was a bit cool this day and the sky had a fair number of clouds meandering about, but there was still blue to be seen. The view offered some distance and height and offered a pleasant view of the people milling below and the bright, colorful canvas canopies that, if they didn't advertise wares specifically, they advertised it as a place that people would want to visit and be a part of, even for a time. If that didn't work to entice, there were the cooking fires that spoke of fresh food of all kinds to be had. From their perch, the young man and woman could see it all. "I assume everything went fine?"

She was perturbed. "Do you think I would be here if it didn't? Do you think I wouldn't have gotten word to you if something went wrong? If it all goes fine, we meet here for the last piece. It all went fine and here I am."

He raised a hand and pulled it back towards himself in surrender. "Sorry. Relax, Syl." He looked her up and down with a hint of lust-driven satisfaction. "I like the new you. It's very different, but no less beautiful than usual."

"Thank you," she said dryly, not bothering to be annoyed by the fact that he used a casual form of her actual name.

"It's a great testament to your paranoia."

"Of course, you didn't bother with a changing spell yourself at all, did you?"

He shrugged with a small laugh. "What does it matter? If it all works out, she'll be too dead to identify me. If it doesn't, I'm just a face with no connection to much of anything here, certainly not enough for anything to lead back to me. Let them sketch me. Let some mage pull my image from her mind. If they have nowhere to go with it, it hardly matters and, either way, we're both out of here. If it goes fine, we'll be elsewhere with the prize. If it all goes to shit we'll just be gone from here anyway. Why bother to waste all the time and energy with a changing spell?

His logic was sound for him, but she had her own reasons for masking herself. He knew what he was doing, she admitted to herself, but he just seemed to have such a cavalier attitude about everything that always rubbed her the wrong way and made working with him a trial, even if it was only a trial within her. If it weren't for the fact that he did know what he was doing, and the fact that Arik was level-headed and serious enough for several souls and easily the match of any guild master or mistress in terms of skill and could manage a job, she would probably have passed on this triad. "I suppose. Word from Arik?"

"Everything is set on his end. He's only waiting for the cargo. His eyes were drawn to her again. "This isn't even the one you used last night, is it?"

She blushed. "Shut up."

He laughed again. "It isn't, is it? You are such an easy read. You're simple, and, by that I mean straightforward. I know enough about who you are and what you'll do. You're predictable enough, and I like that about you."

"Anonymity is...comforting. I can go where I need to go, do what I need to do, and no one is the wiser. Strutting, like some people," she looked at him pointedly, "just invites trouble."

He raised his brows and grinned. "What's the point of having power if you can't show it off occasionally?"

"You like it too much. It's a tool. Keep using it as you do and those words will be on your grave marker."

He put his hand to his heart and the melodrama was almost a living thing, "Oh, I knew we were friends. As long as you are there to weep for me it will have all been worthwhile."

She clenched her jaw to keep from rolling her eyes. "I suspect the only tears that will fall will be from the laughter that I just can't stop because your brashness finally did you in. Though I admit I will grieve for the fact that you can't hear me tell you I told you so." She straightened in her chair a bit to signal that she was already done with the banter. "Can we get on with this please?"

"Hey, I'm only waiting on you. I assume it's ready."

In answer, she removed a weathered gray pouch about the size of the palm of her hand from her bag and placed it on the edge of the table, the contents making the bottom spread out a bit. "Why do you always ask whether or not I did my job? I always do my job."

"Because I know you get it done. It anchors me and allows me the freedom to show off," he joked. There was some sliver of truth in that, though he'd never tell her so. He gingerly opened the pouch with two fingers, "Doesn't look like much," he said of the coppery powder.

"It's more than enough," she assured him. Don't breathe it in once it's activated by your own magic."

"Obviously. What? Didn't want to walk around with it live?"

"Obviously. Make sure you funnel it properly."

"Telling me my job?"