My Travels with Clytemnestra Ch. 03

She kisses my neck, and on down between my breasts, she bites gently at a nipple that stands proud under my thin top, she licks where her wet slit has left damp spots on my clothes. All the while she sinks lower until she kneels on the floor, her face in my lap. Her strong hands seize my skirt and pull, ridding me of it as I hang on to the chair.

She rids me of my flooded knickers just as easily and tosses them to her sister where she lies, face down, arse up while Clytemnestra's tongue explores her most intimate places. Isis seizes the scrap of wet lace and Brings it to her face licking my juices from the garment just as her sister starts to lap the same from the source.

Juno's talented tongue runs across my outer lips and I sigh, it traces my inner lips and I gasp. My short fingernails dig into the chair's thick leather as Juno tries to bury her face deeper into my spread sex. Isis and I both moan wildly as Juno finds my little clitty at the same time, I'm sure, as Clytemnestra finds her sister's. I wrap both hands around the back of Juno's head guiding her, holding her to my pleasure button as I lock eyes with her sister.

Isis and I stare into one another's eyes as I ride her sister's face to ecstasy. Isis moans whorishly into my wet knickers, Clytemnestra's wonderful tongue working its magic on her cunt. My hips rock to meet the rhythm of Juno's mouth kissing my sex, drinking down my juices. She takes my clit between her soft lips making me shudder, I almost come right now but she backs off, licking my outer lips again. I match her licks with my own motion, my eyes still staring into her sister's. Isis' lewd display, the wet sounds of Clytemnestra's cunnilingus, the overpowering scent of female lust, they all hammer at my senses.

I know Juno is listening to her sister's wild moans of passion, for only when Isis shows signs of imminent orgasm does she start to ramp up her assault on my cunny. I unconsciously squeeze her face between my thighs, clamping down as her tongue penetrates me, as she sucks on my exposed clit. I fuck myself against her hard working mouth, matching my mounting climax to Isis' and coming with her. Juno licks through my orgasm as I shudder along with her sister and collapse, slumped forward on top of her.

Juno stands and steps over her spent, panting sister lying on the floor. I watch unbelieving as she strides before Clytemnestra, takes her by the chin and slowly, lovingly licks her own sister's juices from the centaur's mouth. Even Clytemnestra seems shocked by that, if for a moment, before she starts to kiss away my love from Juno's wet face and they share a long, licking kiss, cleaning one another of the spoils of their labour.

I hadn't realised it, but my fingers are stroking my honeypot at Juno's perverse display. I stop, wanting more than my fingers can provide and knowing just where I can find it. Isis is still Lying on the floor sighing in pleasure, hardly surprising either. I roll her onto her back and plant myself against her toned thigh for the capital act. She needs no more encouragement to get to work. Her legs are slightly parted, moisture glistens on the dark hair around her sex. Her hips rock fluidly and so do mine as I fall into her body, tribbing myself against her thigh, she against mine. My mouth finds hers, our kiss is fast, but delicate and never ceasing.

The taste of her lips and the smell and feel of her sweaty body beneath me drive me on. My spine undulates, my body rippling against hers, driving, rubbing thrusting my lustful wet sex against her. Her hands seize my arse, pulling me tighter to her, spreading my cheeks and magnifying her own pleasure against my thigh.

Every wave of joy Isis pours into my tribbing cunt I pour again into hers. She's so wet, so wet. So am I. Distractedly I wonder if all women in this world are simply juicier than normal. I think so. I hope so.

I know I will not last long, I'm too aroused, Isis' slender, toned thigh too hard – her hot, hungry mouth too arousing, her fingers too lewd. Ecstatic pleasure rolls through me with every stroke of her tongue, every bite of her nails, every twitch of my hips. My muscles stiffen and seize on their own, my mind swims in lust. A foot away Clytemnestra is sighing in carnal satisfaction, the sound alone is so exciting to me.

Every wonderful, erotic sensation reinforces the rest. The sounds of passion Juno wrings from Clytemnestra. The feel of Isis' hairy cunt on my thigh, and mine on hers. The smell of our lovemaking and the taste of our kiss. The sound of my heart hammering in my ears. The feel of my nipples rubbing against Isis' body. I moan desire into Isis' mouth, every muscle jerks and I come even more powerfully than I just did.

My climax, my jerking, my flickering tongue, my ecstatic feedback triggers Isis' own plateau. No longer able to support my own weight I collapse on top of Isis, mewling softly, shuddering through one wonderful, shared aftershock after another.

Isis gives me a gentle, but irresistible push backwards and rolls me off of her to lie panting on the floor, very much as she had a little while ago. Like her I'm not left in peace either. Clytemnestra's beautiful face looms over me, upside down and smiling wickedly. Suddenly she's leaning all the way down to kiss me. From her ragged, lusty breathing and the slick, wet sounds I know that Juno must be very busy behind her.

It's an interesting and most delightful kiss. From where we lie, upside down to one another we may both kiss the other's lower lip, even simultaneously, which is a novel pleasure that we enjoy several times between long, luxurious explorations of one another's mouths.

I feel Clytemnestra's already significant excitement grow all of a sudden and she holds my head tightly, crying out in ecstasy. I'm certain, by the end of her long orgasm that her fingernails have left deep marks in my face and I rub at the sore skin as I sit up. Clearly Isis had joined her sister's efforts and that is what triggered Clytemnestra's orgasm. I can see them both there, behind her prostrate form. Each has an arm around her sister's shoulders and when they see me looking, they turn deliberately, ostentatiously to one another for a very unsisterly kiss. I can do nothing but watch in awe and lust.

They stand, still with arms around one another, and I think, very amused at my shock.

"I think you will both fit in very well here," one of them says – I've lost track of which is which.

"I... I hope... so?"

Both sisters laugh, kiss each other again, probably just to tease me, and tell us to get dressed. With that they're gone, walking, arm in arm and still naked, from the room, bottoms wiggling saucily with every step.

"Did you see that?" I ask, almost rhetorically.

"Kinky missies," Clytemnestra has a talent for understatement, I feel, "We've fallen on our hooves here and no mistake, lady."

I find my skirt and knickers, puling them on, "Definitely... Or at least, mostly. A bar bouncer I'm not."

"You are now. And once the word goes 'round that you're a sorceress nobody's going to make trouble."

"Until they realise that I know as much fighting magic as..."

"Learn," she interrupts, cheerfully.

Clytemnestra pours out two generous glasses of wine and hands me one, clinking hers against it.

"Drink your wine, love your woman and trust time to provide tomorrow."

I take a sip of the sweet white wine, "You will look after me, won't you? Out there, I mean."

"As you will me. As you already have me, in fact."

Presently a servant comes and takes us to the ground-floor room that has been assigned us. It's not nearly so lavish as the sisters' apartment, but better than I'd feared. Two narrow beds with straw mattresses and clean, crisp linen, one chest of draws and hanging on the wall a full-length wood framed mirror are the only furnishings. Clytemnestra points out the obvious and one of the beds is swapped for a larger straw mattress and several colourful blankets.

We're shown around the servants quarters, which also houses some of the other ordinary staff. There's a big bathroom with four handsome wrought iron baths on clawed feet and a copper water heater in the corner. There's also a small annex abutting the ordinary's kitchen where we are supposed to dine.

Throughout the servants quarters there is an air of faded elegance – the décor clearly was very fine once, but is now in disrepair and somewhat dusty and faded. It gives the place a rather raffish, romantic quality that has always appealed to me.

By the time we've settled in, eaten, splashed a little water around and I've changed my travel-worn clothes for the most severe looking outfit Lecto had it's time for us to start our duties. Isis came and told us that we'd be working essentially from whenever the ordinary started filling up of an evening until the last drunk ran out of money, whenever that is. She says we may drink for cost, but had better not get drunk – which I had no intention of doing.

So we sit at an out of the way table in the vast, busy hall. Clytemnestra is wearing her sword, but neither of us have our rifles, which would be of limited use indoors, in a bar fight.

After some thought I have taken a five-shot revolver from the guns we found at Lecto's house. Long-barrelled with an elaborate muzzle-break and a grip which I suspect was designed for a woman. I've never shot a pistol in my life, but I feel more comfortable about using it than I would a sword, and at close range it has a fair chance of breaking through a spell shield, if not as good a chance as a blade. It's holstered on my hip on a gunbelt covered with shells in little leather loops, the weight strange, but comforting in my nervous state.

The place is getting busier every minute. There are at least a dozen girls behind the long bar, or dashing around the floor, all of them working hard, and all of them highly attractive in abbreviated white blouses and short, tight little black skirts that show off their knickers whenever they lean over to get a glass from the other side of a table. That does not surprise me, given their employers' tastes. I wonder if all these girls had as pleasant an interview as Clytemnestra and I did.

There must be over a hundred customers in here already, most of them rough, desperate looking people, some of them armed with swords or guns or both, though most seem not to be. I drink tea and ponder the last few weeks.

This place, world, whatever it is is bizarre, but seems to operate consistently within itself. Almost everything here is a little better than I expect it to be. The water, the wine and the tea all taste better than I expect. It's always warm, but never oppressively so, even the rain is brief and exciting, rather than long and dreary.

Everyone I've encountered has been physically fit and attractive. All of the women around me, and all those I've seen before are fine-featured with rich dark skin, small to flat breasts and slim, hourglass waists just like I like. I watch two such beauties share a loving kiss at a table a little ways away. No one else pays any attention, for such things seem entirely normal here.

I'm no expert on men, but even they seem to fit the normal definitions of male comeliness and best of luck to them.

Moreover, Clytemnestra's easy-going philosophy of letting fate provide seems in this world entirely workable. Through nothing but luck, she and I really have fallen on our feet. In fact, I'm bound to say that it was pure luck that we met, and that we survived the potential unpleasantness at Lecto's house.

Luck that I encountered a centaur! A centaur who seems to love me, or at least, lust for me as I do her, and who shares at least two of my... My more idiosyncratic kinks. Perhaps three if I count centaurs.

Oh, and I'm a sorceress here. Can't forget that.

All in all, it's hard to imagine a more perfect world, which bothers me since I know not how I got here or why. I wish I could talk to Clytemnestra about it all, but I've already decided to spare us both that conversation. She's been as good as her word and not once asked about my past, and I respect that a great deal.

"You're quiet," she says, still watching the crowd.

"Sorry, just thinking."

"About?"

"How lucky I am, I suppose."

"Still nervous?"

"Yes."

"It'll pass."

Easy for her to say, she's bigger than anyone else in the room. I find my hand resting on the butt of my revolver and wonder when that happened. The room doesn't seem at all calm to me, it's noisy and smoky and hectic. People are drinking and gambling over dice or cards.

The barmaids hurry around, or else sit on the laps of favoured, or more likely wealthy, customers playing with them coquettishly. Nervous as I am really wouldn't mind at all if one of them came and sat on my lap, arms around me, giggling and flirting. Probably take my mind off things very nicely.

Presently of course, this practice gets one of them in a little more than just a tip or a pinch on the bum and she starts calling our names and trying to bat down the amorous drunkard pawing at her.

"Go on," Clytemnestra pushes me in the direction of the scuffle and I rush over, still far from sure about the plan she'd hatched an hour earlier.

I hear the clop of hooves a fair way behind me as I square up to the drunk, and that gives me a little more courage, "Put her down," fortunately, my voice doesn't tremble above half.

"Two for the price of one, is it?" she slurs.

"I said 'Put her down', idiot," so far so good, "So put her down and fuck off before things get unpleasant."

She laughs and so do her mates sitting around the table. That stops immediately the tip of my pointing finger starts to glow. The barmaid scurries out of her very distracted grip and I'm suddenly aware that the whole room has gone silent. I desperately hope no one is about to call my bluff because a glowing finger is the apex of my magical power.

"We were just going," one of the drunk's mates mutters, taking her by the shoulder and steering her forcefully toward the door, along with the rest of the party.

My spell, which merely shifted the infra-red of my body heat into visible light, ends and I essay a stern glare at the room in general, which is still very quiet. Clytemnestra, who was standing ten feet behind me the whole time, and I return to our table. Customers gradually start talking again, but I see a good dozen at least leave very swiftly afterwards, glancing at me. I hope I've not lost the sisters much custom.

"Good job," Clytemnestra offers.

My hands are shaking from adrenalin.

"Well, it worked, but it wasn't fun."

"I told you it would. You'd have to be a fool to stand up to a sorceress."

"And horny drunks are renowned for their wisdom."

"You're just determined to be a wet blanket aren't you?"

"Sorry, Clytemnestra... Stress?"

I think Clytemnestra's about to say something, but at that moment one of the Barmaids approaches, the same one I'd just 'rescued', Niah. Niah thanks me sweetly and says that everyone feels better about having me around – apparently the last few days since the old bouncers departed have been pretty stressful. I note that Niah is only thanking me, only saying she's glad I'm here, she scarcely acknowledges Clytemnestra, which annoys me.

Part of me wonders if I can leverage her gratitude into something more physical, but that strikes me as a cruel way to behave and I'm a bit ashamed to think it.

The next day, I'm woken uncomfortably early, by the sound of a woman screaming in ecstasy. I suppose it's about breakfast time, really, but considering how late we worked last night that's early. I listen to the woman broadcast her orgasm, a little aroused, but mostly sleepy.

"Lucky girl," offers Clytemnestra, devilish grin on her face.

She's eager to avail herself of the city's bazaar and trade the stuff we took from Lecto for a nice pile of jangly coins and since I'm awake now she insists we not waste time.

The first thing we do is find a gunsmith. Clytemnestra took ten different rifles and pistols from Lecto's house, not counting the two I'd selected for my own, and she haggles over their sale price for a good thirty minutes while I mooch around examining the pieces on display. We also buy fifty rounds apiece for my guns, two bullet moulds and enough powder and primers to reload any spent brass for a good long while.

Clytemnestra says she has other reloading equipment herself, I'm no longer surprised. Given the volume of stuff she has pulled out of them since I've known her I strongly suspect her bags are magical and conceivably may hold almost anything.

We sell the jewellery and other odds and sods at a pawn shop and Clytemnestra gives me a fistful of fat silver coins. She says that half of the proceeds are mine, though she doubts my ability to carry that much metal around, but thinks I should have some spending money on me.

On an impulse, I buy a modest sized blank book, and some metal inkpens and ink, that I might start creating my own magic book. I also buy a bundle of thin cigars wrapped in waxed paper and we track down a sell-spell's shop where I have a spell shield cast on me.

I'm very excited to observe the process, but it is not illuminating at all. The mage simply passes his hand over my prone from, I feel a now familiar tingling in my skin, and it is done. The spell is pretty expensive, but Clytemnestra and I both consider it well worth the cost.

It's a most productive day and, to my surprise, I rather enjoy just wondering around this exciting, exotic city, holding Clytemnestra's hand. Ah, that may be it. As a rule I don't like cities, but I love holding Clytemnestra's hand.

As before, everywhere I look I see attractive, smiling women, and in this climate, few are overdressed. Clytemnestra and I both attract attention, but I no longer feel quite so self conscious as we make our way back to the Crossed Staves for a late lunch. The ordinary only serves one meal each day, today it's lightly spiced rice and peppers and slices of pastry with a little sugar on top. We both eat heartily having skipped breakfast, and Clytemnestra asks how long we should stay here in Pyre Silver.

"We've only just arrived," I point out.

"Certainly, we'll stay a little longer, some weeks maybe, but how long?"

"I don't know... to be honest, I was so focused on getting here, or at least, the north that I hadn't thought about anything after."

"It's nice to have a roof and a bed, but don't put down roots, lady, you'll never see the world through a window."

"So how long?"

She smiles and thinks a while, "Until we know where else there is to aim for next. Normally I'd say until we had a little money, but we have a lot."

"I'll probably kick myself for saying it when I'm cold and wet and trying to sleep in a ditch, but that's a good reason not to stay in a city too long. Money tends to burn a hole in my pocket."

"Spend your money or don't, but don't buy anything you'd not want to carry with you."

Easy for her to say – especially if my suspicions about her bags are correct.

"I've already collected more than I probably should, since meeting you. You remember? I had nothing but the clothes I stood up in. Now I've got, what? Guns, clothes, my slide rule, two books, no, three. Who knows what besides..."

"I told you that the world will provide if you let it."

"And you were right."

"You don't regret then, falling in behind a horizon chasing vagabond?"

"Hurry up and eat, vagabond."

"You don't want to leave right now?"

"No, I want to take you to our room and show you my lack of regret."

I believe I may even be giving her a predatory smile, and she certainly does finish her pastry in record time. We scamper back to our room, locking the door behind us.

Clytemnestra is beautiful! There, I said it. Sometimes, as now when I look at her I am simply stunned by her powerful, sexual perfection. Her dark, liquid-brown eyes, three feet above my own. Her cute, pointed ears and scruffy black hair, her smile, which I'll remember if I forget everything else I've ever seen. She has adorable little rings of white hair just above her hooves. They stand out against the rest of her night-black coat which slides smoothly over hard muscle.