Bread Dildos

"We have common friends. Mule gave me your address." He accepted a cup filled with wine, and his eyes trailed her to the bed.

"And how does a noble scion make friends with street-trash fences?" Rorvalen toyed with the clasp of her cloak. Mule does not know where I live.

"Maybe I'm more than just a pretty face. I have ambitions, you know, and plans." His amber eyes, deep and clear, did suggest a certain intellect, even though they had followed her down to her chest.

"Tell me more." The fingers of her other hand moved under the cover. Too hard. Too much glass. Then golden wire, cold and pliable.

"The Circle does frown on any dealings with the black market. And my parents would be horrified." He paused when she slid on his lap. "But it does make me rather indispensable. I am our ear on the streets, and I am our connection to drug traders and slavers."

"So bold." She planted a kiss on his cheeks. The venom dripped into his cup. "And now you have chosen to take me into your confidence. I am flattered." She waited for him to drink, then parted her cloak. He explored her with eager fingers. Bucking against him, she rose. She sat down on the table and spread her legs.

"I see." He kissed her neck, then moved lower. Each kiss inflamed her passion, and she almost forgot the danger. His tongue danced on her navel, then parted her lower lips. Rory gasped, moaned, then screamed. Soft stubble teased her sensitive opening.

Two more bread dildos were on the table, and she took one. Smiling, she slapped his face with the cock. A gentle smack, but he jumped, yelped, like killer bee stung. "Shh, be a good boy now."

Marked with palpable horror, he shied away. She pursued him with it. He winced but did not speak.

Hit a nerve. And I can read you, she thought. And said: "Come on. For me. Let's play a little. Have a bit o' fun."

He bristled, but she grabbed his dark, curly hair and held him down until he accepted the shaft. A clear erection tented his expensive pants. Gushing, she moved the length inside her. Again, and again, she plunged her hungry depths. He licked her, licked it, with less skill than she had expected, but with a growing frenzy.

Disgust was plain on his face. Whenever his tongue hit the shaft, he shuddered, but she egged him on. Held his face down, until he surrendered. Until she rocked back her head, until she could no longer hold him, and until she drowned under the waves of her orgasm.

He wrested the juice-soaked phallus from her hands and threw it away. "Tell – no – cock."

She shushed him between her legs. "You were saying?" she asked, grinning. Keep him off balance, keep him mad.

"More?" he asked, after she had released him. "Can we?"

"Fuck?"

Her juices had coated his lips, and she noticed the crumbs clinging to his beard. He had forced a smile. "Yes. Fuck."

Rorvalen nodded and pulled him down with her. Entwined, they slumped down to the mattress. His hands were on her chest, and hers were on his crotch.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

She undid his pants. He ripped away her cloak. She freed the large cock, gawping at the size. Gently, he parted her legs. Gently, he entered her. His hands were on her hips, and his tongue wrestled with hers.

She hissed hot moans into his ears. "Almost as good as the dildo."

He fucked her until her eyes rolled back, and until she begged him, her voice squeaky, to flip her around.

Strong hands lifted her up. Arms trembling, she buried her head in the pillow. Desperate screams muffled by linen and straw. On all fours, he fucked her. Hands on her shoulders, and on her hips. He pulled her hair, and fucked her more. Hard, fast, and needy.

"Yes. Show me, boy. Ohh – show me you're a man. Fuck me! Claim me! Make me forget all the other cocks. Show me your better at fucking than cock-sucking."

Incensed, he slammed into her. Ragging, he fucked her. "Little slut, you will cum for me. Fuuck!"

Laughing, she toppled over. Rough hands lifted her up again. His ring was cold on her skin. "Come on then," she challenged, "big man. Strong man. Clever man. Claim me, take me, make me yours." Fuck – don't think. Fuck – don't think. "Fuuck!"

"Whore." He pinched her stiff nipples, and squeezed her ass. His cock slit from her hole, and fumbling, cursing, angry, he forced it back. With unrelenting thrusts, he fucked her.

Spasms gripped her. Fluid shot from her quivering pussy and drenched her bed.

"Whore."

Hot sperm filled her whole, yet he continued to thrust.

"Whore."

Ropes of his seed hit her body. "Fucking whore!" Working his spewing cock, he painted her.

"Mhm." She turned. Languid moves, fluttering eyes, and her chest pushed out. His softening member received a single, lazy lick, and she glided down. She closed her eyes. Let him think he's in control. Give him his chance.

She really did feel tired. Memories of poisons still tainted her blood, and yesterday's labours had taken their toll. For a heartbeat, the misty embrace of sleep approached. Then her left ear twitched; she heard the click.

Lockpicks in hand, he sat – hunched over on his knees – by the chest. Jiggling, he probed the complex lock. Hearing her move, he turned. A moment's hesitation, and he went for his weapon. They glared at each other. "I am sorry it had to come to this." He lunged at her.

"Thrice bound, like the Seventh Dweller, thrice bound." There was no explosion, no surge of power. Just herself, standing naked in the middle of the room, arms raised in an awkward approximation of sorcery, and screaming like a boreal berserker.

But he was stopped cold. The dagger clattered to the ground. After the second word, he fell. He could no longer move his limbs. Nothing cushioned his fall. With a sickening crunch, he hit the floor, and blood welled from his broken nose.

"Did you come alone?" She snatched the purse from his belt and pried the ring from his finger.

In place of an answer, he screamed. "HLP! HLP! Hhhhahh... ." As his tongue numbed more and more, his cries became wails. She kicked him. He wailed louder, until she shoved the third bread dildo down his gullet. Then her left ear started to twitch.

Two sets of heavy footfalls were lumbering down the blind alley. The bells rang out, then the tripwire snapped. When they reached the door, Rorvalen had already pried open the floorboard.

Half dressed, the thief unlocked her chest and packed her rucksack. Books, dress, and whatever loot from the hidey-hole she could not tie to her belt. With her foot she moved his head enough for him to see her emptied hoard. He snarled. Swallowing spit and dough, he gagged.

With her heart pounding, Rorvalen laced up her boots, and buttoned up her jacket. Slipping into her cloak, she hurried to the window. The release bolt scrapped against the wall. Rust particles clouded her, but she pushed it down. The bars slackened.

When the two burly men battered down her front door Rorvalen, sometimes called Houndslayer, had already crawled through the open window. Popping a ball of nash, she disappeared among the crowds of Piss Alley.