The Blade of Highwind Ch. 01

"Look, we can keep this simple, if you'd prefer," he said after a brief pause. "If you'd rather stay upright and keep your dignity, you could just toss me that pouch of yours and we'll call it even."

The crowd snarled in disapproval. A few of the men began to shout profanities before the stranger held up a hand to shut them up.

"These fine individuals won't leave satisfied," he said, "but I consider that a minor annoyance, all things considered."

I swallowed heavily in search of my voice. "That's all you wanted all along, isn't it?"

"Can you blame me?" he asked with a shrug. "You have a small fortune there. No offense, but I can't imagine that even those sweet elven lips of yours are worth a few thousand silvers."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "That almost sounds like another wager."

"Like I said, I'm not much of a gambler," he said with a dismissive wave. "Especially when I've already won."

For the first time since he had appeared, I caught his gaze flick up and down to drink in my figure. The movement was subtle, especially compared to the other louts here, but I could smell lust in men like a shark could smell blood in the water. He may have originally come here to outhustle me, but his cool façade was starting to crack. Maybe I still had an opportunity to make the best of this...

"The coin is mine," I said, sheathing my own blade then planting my hand on my hip. "My mouth and tongue are yours."

I sauntered closer to him, drawing a boisterous cheer from the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a few of them start fiddling with their trousers. I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if they pulled out their cocks and tugged themselves off while they watched me work.

"But if you want to go double or nothing to try and win more, I'm game," I said, stopping within arm's reach of him. "You'll get a chance to steal my gold and see me down on my knees."

He swallowed so subtly I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been standing right in front of him. He looked a bit younger from here, too; he was probably only a few years older than I was. He was handsomer than I thought, too, which made me hope he took my bait even more.

I'm really going to do this, aren't I? Maiden's mercy, I think I'm actually getting excited...

"I'm listening," he said.

I smiled and placed a finger on the breast of his doublet. "First, I need your name. It's important that I know what to call you when I'm begging for your cock."

His cheek twitched. "You can call me Mirek."

"Mirek...I like it." I rolled my tongue across my lips again, my embarrassment and shock draining away as I regained control of our little dance. "Okay, Mirek, you see that clock?"

I pointed up above the bar to the only visible clock in the establishment.

"I see it," he said.

"Good, then here's the new deal," I said, tilting my head enough to make sure I was speaking as much to the crowd as to him. "If I'm wearing your cum on my pretty face within two minutes, I take everything that's left in that heavy coin pouch of yours and add it to mine."

The drunkards hollered at the prospect but quickly fell silent in anticipation of his answer.

Mirek glanced down to the pouch on his belt and pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth. "And if it's not?"

"Then I still have to finish you off while these gentlemen cheer me on," I said. "And you walk out of here with all my coin, leaving me very poor and very messy."

The crowd made their opinion on the matter clear--they wanted to see the haughty half-elf girl humiliated and down on her knees. A few of them probably hoped I'd be desperate enough to start giving more blowjobs afterward just to earn some silver back.

They weren't entirely wrong. There was no way in the bloody void I was going to suck off a bunch of filthy peasants, of course, but if he won, I would be completely broke. I didn't mind sleeping in the forest if I had to--my companion was out there waiting for me anyway--but I wasn't much of a huntress or a forager or even a cook. I preferred eating breakfast that someone else made for me.

And I really want that fucking dress.

"What do you say?" I asked. "Are you man enough for a rematch?"

When he didn't immediately take the bait, I wondered if I had misjudged him again. Maybe he was a truly cold and calculating operator. Maybe he had just been stringing me along, and his furtive glances and facial tics had all been part of the act. Or maybe he just a clever young man who had gotten lucky and was now in way over his head.

"You have a deal," he said. "Two minutes."

The crowd cheered, and a wide grin pulled at my lips. "Two minutes," I said. "We might as well get started."

Keeping my blue eyes locked on his green ones, I slowly dropped to my knees in front of him. The men surrounding us went wild, but I was barely even paying attention to them. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, and not just because of what was at stake. I had known of this man's existence for a whopping five minutes, and he was already the most interesting person I'd met since coming to Vorsalos. I would have enjoyed being alone with him for a few minutes and having a real conversation. Failing that, I would have settled for exchanging a few jokes at the bar.

Instead, I was going to suck his cock and try to make him explode all over my face. It wasn't what I'd had in mind at the start of the night, but I couldn't deny the strange thrill I felt about finishing it this way.

I took his belt in both hands, and it was the work of a few seconds to open the buckle. I held his gaze right up until I slipped my hand inside his trousers in search of my prize...and my fingers did not return disappointed.

His manhood was both larger and harder than I expected. A shiver of anticipation rippled through me, stealing my breath and igniting a wildfire in my core. He groaned in delight when I pulled it free, and another cheer swept through the room when the swollen tip neared my lips. His gasps and heavy breaths convinced me that this rematch was mine to lose--assuming I could stay focused.

"Two minutes starting when I kiss him," I purred as I curled my fingers around his thick shaft.

"Two minutes starting now," Mirek said, shaking his head. "No tricks."

I grinned. "No tricks."

My fingers began pumping up and down his shaft, and from the way he instantly moaned and quivered, I had a sneaking suspicion that I might be able to win the contest without even using my lips. I could see the lust burning in his eyes and feel the desire coursing through the swollen flesh in my hand.

I had a hard time believing that a man this attractive could be inexperienced in the bedroom arts. Young women surely threw themselves at him, especially given his apparent wealth. But I could tell when a cock hadn't spilled in a while, and his was yearning for release from the first stroke of my fingers. My poor face was going to be hot and sticky in no time.

Gods, I can't wait.

Parting my lips and sticking out my tongue, I began to methodically lather the underside of his long, throbbing shaft. Mirek moaned again, his hands balling into fists at his sides when they probably wanted to grab my hair. He even broke eye contact for a few seconds to regain his composure. The crowd went wild at the sight of my tongue, and I heard at least one of the drunkards cry out as he stroked himself to climax somewhere behind me.

This was almost too easy, and I hadn't even taken off my leather bodice. Normally, I would have shed it before opening my mouth. Men were visual creatures, after all, and sucking a thick cock without letting the owner gaze upon your magnificent tits should have been a crime. Besides, I was getting so hot that I wouldn't have minded being able to pinch my nipples. It was already taking an enormous amount of effort not to slide a hand inside my trousers. My quim was getting wetter and wetter as an empty ache built between my thighs.

"Plenty of time left," I cooed when my tongue finally reached his throbbing crown. "Still sure you can hold out?"

He clenched his teeth when I chuckled and kissed the tip. A part of me wished I had asked for more time--not because I needed it, but because I wanted it. The moment I tasted his salty precum on my tongue, I became desperate to taste him. Fine cocks, just like fine tits, deserved to be worshiped properly.

And that's exactly what I did. Opening my mouth as wide as I could, I closed my lips around the tip and began to gorge myself on his manhood inch by inch. Mirek's body went stiff, overwhelmed, and I half expected a warm flood to fill my mouth. But he miraculously held out even as the crowd egged me on. Their heckling didn't bother me in the slightest; every time someone yelled "whore" or "slut" or "cunt" it only made me hotter. I had always loved having an audience no matter what I was doing: archery, fencing, singing, even just drinking. Cheers and laughter were more addictive than lotus.

I also loved swallowing cock, but this was the first time I had ever combined my vices. Maybe losing once in a while wasn't such a bad thing after all...

"He's not going to make it!" someone cried out, prompting a wave of mocking laughter.

I paused once Mirek's stem had filled my mouth and nearly reached my tonsils. I could feel his body quivering, and single glance upward confirmed that he was about to lose control. I was a little surprised that he hadn't squeezed his eyes shut or looked away; to his credit, he was breathlessly watching my every movement, as if he wanted to sear the image of me kneeling in front of him into his mind forever. The thought of him tugging himself off to this memory decades from now sent a shiver of delight cascading through my core.

I was the best duelist in this city--maybe in the whole Northern Reaches--yet somehow I never felt quite as powerful as when I was down on my knees in front of a strong man. There was just something utterly intoxicating about holding his cock in your mouth, knowing how badly he wanted you, needed you...

"Gods, the slut is actually enjoying it! Look at her!"

Another raucous cheer shook the room when I began to massage my breasts through my bodice as I bobbed up and down Mirek's shaft. I couldn't quite swallow him all the way, and not for lack of effort; his cock was just too damn big. It made me wonder if he had a few drops of orc blood in him or something.

When I thought about how I must have looked right now, kneeling submissively in front of a stranger in a seedy tavern like a five-copper whore, I couldn't help but imagine how mortified my mother would have been if she could see what I was doing. I was the princess of Highwind; I was supposed to be training with the Ven'Tira rangers in Nelu'Thalas, not sucking off men in front of an audience. She probably would have had a heart attack. Serrane Starwind was so proper, so elegant, so cultured...she and my paladin father had probably had sex exactly once--and then been embarrassed about it afterward.

Well, suffice to say I was not my mother's daughter. And every man in this room should have been thankful for it.

"There he goes," someone blurted out. "He's going to lose it!"

They were right. I could feel Mirek's control slipping away as I bobbed, trying to work him deeper down my throat with every push without triggering my gag reflex. I wasn't even using my hands--they were too busy groping myself to help. Not that my mouth needed it; according to the clock, I still had half a minute to spare.

I was about to win a small fortune...and enjoy one of my favorite treats.

"Oh..." Mirek cried out. "Shit...shit!"

I pulled back an instant before he burst, mouth open and tongue extended as my hands gripped the heels of my boots. I gasped in delight when the first spurt struck me, blasting a thick rope of hot cum across the bridge of my nose. The second and third volleys were almost as powerful, covering my lips and shooting a thick wad straight onto my tongue. The rest splattered across my chin and then down to my bodice, making me regret yet again that I hadn't taken it off so I could feel the heat on my tits.

My audience whooped and hollered, enjoying every moment of my public debasement...but not nearly as much as I did. I seized up, head tilted back and breasts pushed out, gripped in the throes of a sudden, inexplicable full-body climax. I couldn't move or breathe; a surge of raw ecstasy rippled through every fiber of being. If I'd been able to find my voice, I would have demanded that this total stranger pick me up, slam me down on an empty table, and fuck me as hard as he could.

I couldn't understand why I was so hot. I enjoyed swallowing cock, sure, and there was something indescribably special about feeling a man's salty gratitude covering your lips and sliding down your throat at the same time. I loved knowing that it was my body and my talent that had made him lose control.

But despite all that, I had never actually cum when a man finished on my face before. The very idea seemed absurd.

Unless...

"Oh, shit," I gasped as I realized the truth.

Another wave of ecstasy crashed over me so quickly that I almost toppled onto my side and started writhing on the floor. I squeezed my heels so hard I was surprised they didn't break off, and every inch of my skin started tingling at once. My quim burned, my nipples turned to rocks, and my lungs completely lost their ability to draw air. I hadn't cum this hard in months.

And I was about to be in a whole lot of trouble.

When my eyelids finally fluttered back open, a single glance down at my body confirmed what I already knew: all of my Dal'Rethi tattoos, previously invisible and dormant beneath my flesh, had just flared to life. The intricate glowing blue latticework ran down my bare arms, across my exposed stomach and lower back, and even down my thighs and legs beneath my trousers. My blue eyes were glowing too, making me look like some kind of demon.

Well, one very specific kind of demon, anyway, considering how much cum was dangling from my nose and lips. If I had wings, I could have been a succubus straight out of the salacious legends.

But the fearful gasps and stunned silence of the drunkards around me had nothing to do with my vaguely demonic visage. Honestly, this may have been the one city in the entire bloody world where people might have been less scared of a demon than an otherwise regular girl with glowing tattoos--especially one who seemed to be feeding off the seed of the man who had just finished all over her.

"Senosi! Escar save us, she's a Senosi!"

I wished I could have explained to them that I was absolutely not one of the female assassins who had ruled over Vorsalos two decades ago. I wished I could have described the nuances in how traditional Dal'Rethi tattoos--or even Tel Bator Keeper tattoos--were quite different than the ones branded into the flesh of Senosi Huntresses, both in power and in purpose.

But even if I'd somehow had the time do that, I highly doubted that any of these men would believe me. To them, it wouldn't matter that I had gotten these tattoos in Nelu'Thalas, not the Castarium. They wouldn't care that mine were blue, not green; they wouldn't care about the subtle but important differences in application or effect. All they would ever be able to see was a young woman feeding on magical energy just like the tyrants who had terrorized their families a generation ago.

And frankly, I couldn't blame them.

"Get her. Get her!"

As the noise in the tavern quickly transformed into a unified roar of anger, I looked up at the stunned face of the man--the sorcerer--looming over me as I licked his cooling seed from my lips.

"Run," I whispered.

He blinked, mouth stuck agape. "What?"

"If you want to live, you need to pull up your pants and run," I told him. "Now!"

I didn't wait for him to respond. Vaulting to my feet, I snatched my coin purse and dashed across the tavern toward the door. Aetheric energy coursed through my body thanks to my freshly fed tattoos, imbuing me with superhuman speed and strength, albeit only for a short time. Millennia ago, the famed Dal'Rethi Blade Dancers had used the power of their markings to triumph in battle despite impossible odds. I, on the other hand, was using it to flee from a mob of terrified and enraged peasants while wearing a stranger's cum on my face.

Somehow, one of those seemed slightly more heroic than the other.

But it didn't matter. I dodged, punched, or shoved aside anyone who got in my way, and a few seconds later I was standing in the darkened streets of the City of Ravens, my skin glowing like a blue beacon. I ignored the screams of terrified onlookers as I sprinted into the nearest alleyway, wishing belatedly that I had picked one of the many taverns closer to the southern gate.

At least it was late enough that the streets were mostly empty, and I had a plan to avoid the ones that weren't. Bending my knees, I leapt into the air and onto the rooftop of an adjacent building, a gravity-defying feat that would have been impossible without the aid of my empowered tattoos. There was a reason the Senosi had ruled Vorsalos. They probably still would be if not for the efforts of the Dragon of the Highwind before his unexplained disappearance.

I didn't stop moving until I dropped down into an empty alley several blocks away. My glowing tattoos had finally started to fade back into my flesh, and I wiped off my nose with my arms as I watched the mesmerizing latticework slowly disappear.

This wasn't how I had expected this night to go in any way. Losing a duel to a handsome chamber, feeding off the magic in his seed, running from a mob of angry peasants...

I would need to leave Vorsalos tonight, and I probably wouldn't be able to return for months. The only good news was that I had made enough silver to last me for quite a while.

"Shayera!"

I spun around to the entrance of the alley behind me, my hand immediately dropping to my belt and unsheathing my sword. The stranger from the tavern was standing there silhouetted in the moonlight, his hand braced against the wall as he fought to catch his breath.

"How...?" I paused in shock. I hadn't heard my name spoken aloud in over a month. "How do you know who I am?"

"I know a lot of things about you," Mirek panted. "Probably more than you know about yourself."

My pulse quickened, and I lifted my blade and pointed the tip at his throat. "If you're an assassin, you're not very good at your job."

He shook his head and slowly raised his hands. "I'm not an assassin," he insisted. "I don't want to hurt you."

My eyes narrowed. "Then what do you want?"

"Your help," Mirek said, swallowing heavily. "Without it, everyone in this city is doomed."