Lost Colony Ch. 02

The two continued their cautious dance. The youth delivered one tentative blow, then another. Sparr jabbed his sword in a mockery of a counter attack, too slow and too late to be effective. Toma became emboldened. His next attack was a combination, a blow to Sparr's side meant to draw open his stance, then a lunge. Sparr blocked the first blow clumsily, then leapt back from the lunge. He made another useless counter.

Finally, encouraged by his near-successes, or perhaps goaded into more urgent action by the crowd, Toma launched a committed attack. He flung himself forward, delivering a succession of blows. Sparr half turned, letting the youth stumble by. He struck immediately, opening a gash on Toma's sword arm. It was over.

***

The mood back at the compound was considerably gloomier than it had been the week before. Wine still flowed, but there was none of the boasting revelry. The gladiators formed a circle, toasting Jinn. Sparr found his eyes moist, saddened by the loss of the man, and at the hollowness of his passing.

An hour crept by. Sparr congratulated Stef on his victory, but otherwise kept to himself. He sipped more wine than was his habit, thinking on his escape plans. There were still several gaps, more than a few if Sparr was honest with himself. In his fogged mental state the challenges remained beyond him.

The summons to spend the night with Syreet arrived just as he had given up on the idea. Sparr had assumed the gladiator was dedicating her attention to Blonde. The whispered parting words between the two could hardly have been anything other than an invitation. Still, the opportunity was a welcome one. In her company he wouldn't fret over Jinn's death or the sorry state of his escape plans. Sparr leapt to go.

The rickshaw ride to the crazy house was uneventful. After two weeks, the town, even the narrow alleys where Syreet dwelled, offered fewer and fewer mysteries. But as Sparr mounted the stairs something was amiss. His lover wasn't waiting for him on the top step. Cautiously, Sparr stepped forward.

Syreet pressed a finger to her lips, urging Sparr to quiet. She lay on her side atop the bed, naked and oiled as before, her body a landscape of lean curves. The blonde lay facing Syreet, her slim, pale body pressed against the Amazon. Syreet held her in a protective embrace, holding the girl's face to her bosom, stroking her hair. Both women were fit, but the slim blonde looked almost waif-like next to the gladiator. Sparr's cock stirred immediately seeing the two together. With an encouraging nod from Syreet, he began to disrobe.

Blonde must have known Sparr was there, but showed no reaction, even as he settled onto the furs. Syreet kissed the top of her head, then nudged her toward Sparr.

"Say 'hi' to Alain," she said. "Alain, this is Myr."

Myr turned, smiling up at Sparr dreamily. "Hi Alain." She was fresh and pretty, with an upturned nose and almond eyes. He had the impression that the two had already made love. "I watched your match today," she said.

"You did?" Sparr took her hand, pressing his lips to her fingers.

"You tricked that boy," she said. "Pretended you were slow."

"I did," agreed Sparr. "I wanted to win." He pressed his tongue against her palm.

"Oh..." she said softly. For a moment Myr could only watch Sparr tease and kiss her hand. "Did you win something?"

"He won you," whispered Syreet. By now she had turned the young woman entirely to face Sparr. Myr's small breasts, flat belly, and girlish hips were enticing.

Myr tried to look back toward Syreet. "I thought you won me?"

"I did," cooed Syreet sweetly. She stroked and gently tugged at one of Myr's glossy blonde braids. "Now I'm giving you to Alain. Don't you think he's handsome?"

"Yes, I..." Myr broke off, running her fingers through Sparr's chest hair. She looked into his eyes. "Yes."

"Mmmm," whispered Syreet. "Me, too. Why don't you give him a kiss?"

Myr looked uncertainly back toward Syreet. Seeing only encouragement, she closed her eyes and leaned toward Sparr. He kissed her hungrily, drawing her body close to his. No past lover of Sparr's had ever brought another woman to their bed, certainly not as a prize. The realization was incredibly arousing.

Sparr kissed her lips, her cheek, and neck. Her scent was as foreign to him as Syreet's, but sweeter. Myr wriggled against him, sighing as his tongue found her ear. Her small hand reached his cock and tentatively stroked it. He was diamond hard.

Moving slowly, Sparr guided Myr toward his straining organ. She settled between his legs, gawking at his rod. Her eyes flew nervously between Sparr, his menacing cock, and Syreet. The latter encouraged her.

"Give it a lick."

Myr complied. With a look of uncertainty, the blonde pressed her small tongue against the base of Sparr's shaft and licked up. When he nodded encouragingly, she repeated, this time a longer lick that almost reached the head.

"Yeah, that's nice," Sparr groaned. "Lick the head, too."

Again, Myr quickly looked to Syreet for approval. It was incredible, thought Sparr, the influence the gladiator wielded over the girl. That afternoon in the pit, both women had been confident, acrobatic performers, entrancing the crowd with their skill and beauty. In Syreet's bed, Myr became submissive and obedient.

Still sensing approval, Myr circled the head with her tongue and popped it into her mouth. The sensation was blissful. Myr's mouth was just large enough to accept the bulging head. Locking her eyes on Sparr, she wriggled her mouth down another inch. She held it. Only when her eyes began to tear did she pull back. Myr gasped, strings of saliva swinging from her lower lip.

"Don't you think she's lovely?" Syreet lay on her side, watching Myr work on Sparr's cock.

"Yeah," Sparr groaned. In fact he wasn't sure what was more entrancing, the girl's fresh beauty, or her eagerness to please him. Myr again took his cock into her welcoming mouth.

Syreet lifted and tugged her breast, pinching the nipple hard. "Oooh." For a time she seemed content to watch, one hand tormenting her nipple while the other first sought, then fingered her damp slit. The gladiator's brown hair, unrestrained, lay behind her in a wild tangle. Her eyes fluttered shut. Just when Sparr thought she would leave him and Myr to pursue their own pleasures, she proved him wrong. Her eyes popped back open again.

"My turn," Syreet said, her voice an indecipherable mix of playfulness and defiance.

As Sparr watched, confused, the Amazon tugged on one of Myr's braids. The performer, at first bewildered, allowed herself to be guided back toward Syreet. Sparr's cock fell back to his belly with a lonely slap.

"Oooooh," Syreet gasped. Myr's tongue found her slit.

Still confused and aroused, Sparr watched as Myr buried her face between Syreet's legs. He couldn't tell exactly what magic the young woman worked with her tongue, but it must have been skilled. Syreet groaned, arched her back, and closed her eyes.

Sparr recognized the dynamic from their last encounter. He knew how to play the game, first yield, then take. He joined in.

He rolled to his side, facing Syreet. Sparr swatted Syreet's hand away from her breast, and dove in. He tongued her nipple, flicking, circling, and nibbling her tender flesh. When the gladiator tried to push him away, Sparr locked his hand over her wrist and continued. As she had the week before, Syreet eventually yielded to, then welcomed, his mouth and hands on her body. She moaned.

"It's so... it's... oh fuck." Syreet trembled.

Sparr moved on, kissing his way down the gladiator's belly. Myr had two fingers in Syreet's slit. Her tongue was a blur. The girl acknowledged Sparr through slitted eyes, but didn't slow.

"Together," Sparr said softly. He gently pulled Myr's hand free, then slipped in his own finger.

"Oh," said Myr, understanding. "Yes."

"Ahhhhhhh." Syreet fell back, helpless before the combination of Sparr's probing finger and Myr's swiftly darting tongue. Her tremble grew from a purr to shudder. She moaned.

Sparr wondered if Syreet would let them coax her over the edge. During their previous encounter, the gladiator had pushed him from her slit before she came. Would she stop them this time as well? Sparr had no intention of finding out. He slowed, withdrew his finger, and urged Myr back. Once more he reclined, pulling the blonde with him.

"Together," he said again, this time eyes fixed on Syreet.

It was time for Syreet to be the confused party. Sparr watched as anger replaced confusion. He half expected her to chase him from the bedroom. Instead she laughed. Syreet rolled to lay beside Myr. The two kissed wetly before turning their attention to Sparr.

"Balls," Syreet said. She nudged Myr down. Sparr felt a flash of raw pleasure as the young woman slid her small, soft tongue across his sack.

"Fuuuuck," Sparr groaned.

"Yes," whispered Syreet. She joined Myr, licking up Sparr's shaft, circling the head, then licking down. She repeated the motion several more times, coating his cock with saliva. Syreet plunged her mouth over the head.

"Oh, oh god." Sparr looked on in wonder as the gladiator, in one motion, took half of his cock past her lips.

Myr continued to lick his sack sweetly. She peered at him with wide, curious eyes as her slick tongue visited every corner of his balls.

Syreet joined her. "Here," she whispered. With her eyes on Myr, Syreet drew first one, then the other ball into her mouth, tugging and sucking gently. The sight was achingly erotic, the sensation even more so. "Now, show me."

After only a moment's hesitation, Myr complied. Following Syreet's example she carefully drew one cum-filled ball past her lips, sucked gently, then released it.

"Yes, but hold it a bit longer, like this."

The two women were inches apart, facing each other across Sparr's sack. As Myr watched attentively, Syreet sucked a ball into her mouth, applying pressure sweetly with her lips and tongue. When ready to release him, she did so very slowly, applying suction until the ball reluctantly popped free. Sparr gasped.

Myr smiled. "Okay." She leaned forward.

"No," Syreet said, tenderly. "Watch him while you do it. Make my man feel good."

"Okay," Myr repeated. She shifted position, then, with eyes on Sparr once more, resumed her work. Myr slid her tongue across his sack, drew in one fat ball, and held it. Her tongue worked heavenly magic against his ball while her lips sucked to hold it in place. After an almost intolerably blissful minute she released him.

"Oh my god," gasped Sparr.

"It's nice?" Myr asked.

"Oh yeah it is. Don't stop." Sparr's breath was getting rough.

The women double-teamed him exquisitely. Syreet pulled her mouth off of Sparr's cock, gave Myr a sultry kiss, then immediately dove back. She had a remarkable oral talent, able easily to take half of Sparr's brutally hard shaft into her mouth. Together, they would bring him to release in just minutes.

Syreet had other ideas. Temporarily abandoning his cock, she wriggled next to him, to whisper in his ear.

"Take her, like you took me. I want to see it." For emphasis, she squeezed Sparr's rod. "Your spear."

"Now," he said huskily. Sparr was aroused beyond reason.

All three lovers shifted position. Syreet guided Myr to the center of the bed. The girl, for the first time, showed a trace of worry, her eyes assessing the heft of Sparr's cock. Syreet, sensing her concern, turned Myr to face her. Both women lay on their sides, inches apart. As Sparr approached the blonde from behind, Syreet comforted her with soothing words and soft touches.

Sparr lay behind her. He rested a hand on Myr's shoulder while Syreet guided his cock to the girl's dripping slit. The Amazon nodded, locking her eyes on Sparr. He pushed.

"Ohhhhh, no no no no," Myr gasped. Her hand clutched at Syreet. Sparr paused, only the tip of his cock penetrating the lithe blonde.

"It's okay," said Syreet soothingly. She kissed Myr, then wriggled lower. Her tongue found a perky breast.

"Oh," said Myr.

Sparr pushed again. He tried to be gentle, but his mind was fogged, arousal beating in his ears like a drum. The scene was powerfully erotic. Myr lay before him, compliant and open, but her expression was one of discomfort and worry. Syreet pressed close to the blonde, her tongue gently swirling and sucking the girl's nipples. Myr sighed and gasped.

Barely in control of himself, Sparr slowly took the blonde. He kept up a steady, shallow stroke, giving her only what she had already learned to accept. When Myr relaxed, he would surge forward again. The play of sensations on her face, bliss, pain, and surprise, shifted rapidly as Sparr's cock and Syreet's tongue teased and tested the girl's flesh. There could have been no greater contrast between the submissive young woman offering her body, and the pair of lovers sharing and consuming her.

"Gawwwwwwd," Sparr gasped. By now he was deep enough in Myr's slit to coat his cock sweetly. Between him and Syreet they held the young woman tight. Sparr drove into her from behind and held her shoulder tight while Syreet embraced her from the front, kissing, licking and sucking. Between them, Myr panted her desire. Her braids tickled his chest.

"Yes," Syreet purred. She pulled back enough to admire Sparr as he worked to enter the blonde entirely. "Yes, yes, she's yours. Take her."

The gladiator's tongue and hand were kept busy. She kissed Myr wetly, and now her hand crept to the blonde's slit. The young woman gave a small gasp of unexpected pleasure.

"Oh, oooooh."

The three lovers formed an inseparable tangle of limbs. Sparr drank in the sight of the two beauties kissing passionately. Candle light played over their sleek bodies. Syreet seemed to be keeping Myr on the edge of release with her intricate finger play. Soon the two weren't kissing at all. The blonde opened her mouth and arched away from Syreet. Her pussy clamped down on Sparr's cock. She was trembling.

Sparr abandoned his doomed attempt at restraint. With a final thrust forward he buried himself in Myr's slit.

"Eeeeeeh," Myr cried out, even as the combination of Sparr's cock and Syreet's skilled fingers took her to the edge. "Ohhh."

"Awwwwww, fuck!" Sparr's hand was a vise on the girl's shoulder. He pulled nearly out before slamming his rod home again.

"She's yours!" Syreet's eyes were wild with lust. "Take her. Fill her."

He did. Sparr was beyond any self control, and, like Myr, perched on the edge of a crushing orgasm. He pumped, withdrew, pumped once more. Ecstasy caught him.

"Haahhhhhhhhhhh," Sparr cried out. He unloaded, ejecting a spurt of hot cum.

"Eeeee!" Myr thrashed against him. She came, her pussy clenching and releasing. "Ohhhhh, fuck."

"Omigod," Sparr gasped. All of the day's accumulated tension and stress poured out of him. "Fuuuuck!" Another blast of seed saturated Myr's depths.

"Ooooooh," Syreet moaned sweetly. She held and caressed Myr, sharing the girl's shuddering orgasm. "Yessssss."

Myr cried out, her orgasm at its peak. Her lithe body trembled with ecstasy, clamping down again on Sparr's cock. Bliss owned her, releasing its grip only with exquisite languidness. At last, the blonde collapsed against Syreet, spent and panting.

Sparr leaned forward, gave Syreet a kiss, and reclined behind Myr. The gladiator, still cradling the young woman, offered him a sleepy smile.

The three gave themselves to dreams.

***

The very next day, Sparr caught a break with his escape plan.

He, Ast, and Stef were helping deliver bolts of cloth to one of the more opulent shops. Sparr had a hunch that the Governor used his authority to purchase goods at discount rates, then later sell them to the merchants. It was consistent with the way Sparr himself had been sold. The Governor had made a bid, then practically dared anyone else to top it. That would also explain why Efreem had never appeared. No doubt he had been traded or sold a second time.

The merchant, a man of middle years and no hair, fluttered around the shop, hovering nervously as the three gladiators unloaded fabric. He would dart forward, obsessively smoothing the exposed top of the most recently unloaded bolt, then jump back before the next bundle arrived. He kept a tally using an elaborate quill with red, grey, and yellow bands. Something about the man reminded Sparr of a bird watching to see if its mate was building a satisfactory nest.

When finished, the merchant surprised the gladiators by offering them tea from a delicate urn. As Sparr sipped the bitter, but not unpleasant concoction, he had time to admire the shop. Most of the wall space was taken up with display racks and rotating spindles draped with samples, but one wall was dominated by a sprawling, rich tapestry. The merchant noticed Sparr admiring it.

"All of Kaybe," the man said proudly. "The workmanship is exquisite. The stitching..." He looked about the room as if checking for spies. "It's worth thousands, but I purchased it for only five-hundred!" This last bit he practically whispered.

It was, in fact, beautiful. Finely-worked blue stitching signified an ocean, sprinkled with a constellation of tiny islands in one corner. To the west lay a sprawling continent, mountainous to the north, settling slowly to gentler lands of green and brown. Both the far north and the south were trimmed in white, obviously signifying icy regions. Across the ocean was another continent, smaller than the first, but more varied. Sparr made out narrow lakes, running north to south, stitched from an even finer blue thread. If the map was to be trusted, there must have been glacial activity on Kaybe millenia ago.

"Where are we?"

The man shot Sparr a quizzical look, before catching himself. He drew back perceptibly. "Of course," he said softly, "gladiators." He gathered himself. "We are... here," he said, indicating one of the tiniest dots on the tapestry.

The north of the western continent was first ice, then mountain. Just north of what must be the equator, the mountains broke apart into ranges that plunged deep, scarring the plains and forests like claws. These, surely, were what Sparr had seen during his landing. With a ring-laden finger, the merchant indicated the point where two such ranges split apart.

"Vonde," he said with a strained smile. "Not exactly where I had pictured myself, but..."

"And where is Shong?"

"Oooooh," the man spoke as if Sparr had said something faintly naughty. "The dead city," he said. "Well, one of them." His finger slid south, parting the raised green and brown threads, then turned east. On the map, Shong was noted with an embroidered star. To reach it, Sparr would have to travel south beyond the tips of the ridges, then east for considerably longer. That portion of the journey paralleled a thinly-stitched line which could only represent a road.

"Five days travel?" Sparr guessed.

"Are you a pilgrim? Ah, ignore my question." The merchant stepped back, smoothing his robes. "If they had gladiator fights there? Ten days at least, two weeks if you travel with the Origin. They stop everywhere!"

They shopkeeper, seeming to tire of the conversation, withdrew. Sparr concentrated on the map, doing his best to commit it to memory. In addition to Shong, he spotted one other star farther south and east, near the ocean and the sprinkling of islands. Two more were visible on the opposite continent. If there were more, they were hidden.

***

That evening, Sparr practiced the language with his implant, and once again mulled his escape. His prospects had hardly improved, but the outlines of a plan began to emerge. After his next bout in the gladiator pit, Syreet presumably would summon him to her bed. Following their encounter he would excuse himself, sneak past the dozing rickshaw driver, and climb into the hills. From there he would loop around to the outskirts of the town. Having no love for the Urst, Sparr would feel little remorse robbing one of their huts or wagons. With luck, he could locate a weapon, and food enough for a few days.