The Thief of Virtue Ch. 03

The Thief of Virtue or The Paladin's Choice

A Novelette by J.D. Blythe

Part 3: In which costs are weighed, and prices paid.

The text below is original content which belongs to the author. This work must not be reproduced either in part or in full without the permission of the author.

That said -- enjoy! This is my first Literotica submission (as it were), so please let me know what you think! It's a three part story, and all the parts are online.

This story will probably only really make sense if you have previously read Parts 1 and 2, which you should be able to find in my author's page.

*****

The butcher's runner came to the Old Smithy the next morning. Ellia had just finished washing her newly-repaired leather armour. She was looking forward to burning the hateful blue dress, she thought, as she hung her own clothes up to dry on the porch in the weak morning sun. At the butcher, Ellia was put to work plucking chickens. It was a light task, at least compared to the baker's the day before, but the smell of the shop was hideously unpleasant. Trystan offered his assistance and was put to work lugging heavy carcasses and barrels around, which he did without difficulty or complaint. The butcher was very friendly and chattered away to him inconsequentially, frequently praising him for his vast strength and asking what kind of meat he had eaten as a child to grow so tall. He kept a lecherous eye on Ellia, though, and grinned openly every time she bent over and revealed a glimpse down the blue dress.

Around noon, the Mayor's secretary appeared, with six members of the guard.

"The Mayor offers his thanks for your tireless efforts, Sir Trystan, but he will not be requiring your presence this afternoon."

"It really is no trouble; I'd feel lax in my duties if I stopped guarding her now. Besides, I'm sure I could be helpful with whatever tasks the Mayor feels are suitable punishment for the prisoner," Trystan added, wanted to stay close to her.

"No indeed," said the secretary looking rather harassed. "The Mayor insisted, quite forbade you from accompanying her. Urrrr, I'm sure he means only that you deserve a rest..." he added quickly, tailing off with a frightened squeak as Trystan took a step towards him, looming dangerously.

Trystan shrugged, but there was nothing he could do. Unless there was clear evidence of exploitation and abuse, his orders were clear - he was not to unbalance the status quo or interfere with the local government. He had to follow the rules of the land. In the past, Paladins had rushed in to overthrow an over-taxing Duke or a louche Prince, only to abandon the region to chaos and anarchy when they moved on. The Order of Arnan frowned upon such short-term thinking. Still Trystan, who was usually reticent to use violence, felt his fists itch whenever the Mayor was mentioned.

*****

The Mayor's house was the only stone building in Glainmarsh, set back on the opposite side from the swamp. Despite the poor soil, some attempt had been made to grow a tree-lined approach and the door itself was carved grandly in wood, with metal-work riveted to it. It opened as the small party reached it.

"Ahh, Miss Ellia, do come in," smiled the Mayor. His lips seemed overly red against his pale cheeks.

"That will be all, watchmen, you may wait outside," he ordered sternly. "I'm sure that Miss Ellia has no intention of trying to flee her justly appointed punishment." His eyes never left her.

"No, your excellency..." she said, looking down to feign respect.

"Mr Mayor will be fine," he corrected her, with another thin smile.

The secretary ushered Ellia into the reception room of the house, and was subsequently dismissed.

"You can read, I assume?" asked the Mayor.

"Yes."

"Very good. I have some papers for you to organise. But first, perhaps you would care for some lunch?" Ellia looked at him warily, and nodded. He opened a door into an adjoining room. The dining table there was spread with an array of luxurious dishes. She was surprised to see china plates and even real blown glass on the table. Fine, white candles in ornate candle sticks were dotted amongst the feast.

"What's all this for?" demanded Ellia, suspiciously.

"It's not often that I get such attractive help around my office," he said, bowing gallantly. She shuddered a little, but the food smelled delicious and she hadn't yet eaten today. Besides, he doesn't look very strong, she thought; she could handle herself if he tried anything. He courteously pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit, tucking it beneath her. Seating himself at her right hand side, he helped her to the various dishes and poured out two large glasses of wine.

"Please do start, no need to stand on ceremony. You must be hungry after the past few days. I do my best to see that Glainmarsh doesn't go hungry but... well... peasant fare..." he finished, dismissively.

She sniffed the food with suspicion, then tasted it. It was delicious. She tucked in more vigorously, enjoying the different dishes.

"Do try the wine," he urged her after a while. "It melds beautifully with the venison."

She took a sip, and nodded despite herself as the ruby liquid flooded her mouth with flavour, complimenting the tender meat. She drank deeper, a little spilling down her chin. After a while she noticed a strange, expectant expression on the Mayor's face as he watched her. He had barely touched his own food.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked him.

"My appetite is for other things," he said, with a predatory smile. Ellia, her head becoming foggy, nodded foolishly for a moment before realisation dawned on her. Did he mean her? As if in answer, he slid his hand over hers on the table. She pulled away, clumsily knocking over her glass. Strangely, her chair was now too heavy to move back. She tried to slide out from behind the table, but all her grace was gone. She fell to the floor without ceremony, her skirt flicking up above her knees. It seemed unbelievably hot in the room suddenly, and the Mayor's face was getting closer and closer to hers. Her last memory before she blacked out was of his smug, supercilious expression inches from her eyes.

*****

Ellia awoke in a dark room. Her arms and legs were in shackles, which were themselves driven firmly into the floor. Her wrists and ankles ached as the metal dug into her flesh and weighed her down to the hard stone. Damn the Mayor. She should have listened to Trystan - he had said that there was something untrustworthy about him. At the time, Ellia had put it down to jealousy. Perhaps there was more to it than that, she thought ruefully.

She fidgeted in the chains, but they were too heavy for her to move. Finding it impossible to struggle free, she lay back and thought. The Mayor would return at some point -- otherwise what was the point of locking her up? Ellia was pretty sure she knew what he wanted; she remembered the revolting lechery on his face just before she had passed out.

Still, Trystan knew that she was here, she thought, trying to reassure herself. Come to think of it, so did the other townspeople, and the guards. She was supposed to show up for work tomorrow - there'd be outcry if she didn't appear to complete her punishment, unless... the Mayor was going to keep her here. He could say that she had run away, and who would contradict him? She had no idea where she was, but she doubted that many people knew about a room with shackles sunk into the floor. If he was willing to drug her and tie her up, it seemed doubtful he would let her go. Certainly few would believe her story, but Trystan would cause problems and the people respected Trystan. How much more convenient for the Mayor if she just disappeared, she mused despondently.

And he'd waited until she became conscious. He could have used her body while she was drugged, but he hadn't touched her, as far as she could tell. He wanted some kind of personal victory over her, wanted her to be aware of what was happening. That was worse. That was definitely worse...

A clunk and scrape from a nearby lock and a door opened, bringing with it a triangle of light from beyond. Ellia squinted in the sudden brightness, until a tall silhouette became visible.

"Did you sleep well, Thiefling?" he asked with a sneer. Ellia remained silent, unwilling to play along.

"You know", he continued, still standing in the blinding light. "It's not often that I see a woman as fine as you. Glainmarsh has little to choose from. I brought you down here because I hoped to... persuade you, to show you how good things could be if you stayed here. With me." She could hear the smile in his voice.

Ellia's face remained carefully impassive, but inside she was thinking, "He wants to win me over?" A man who has hope is easy to fool -- she remembered that lesson from Three Fingers Buggy, the kidsman who had found her on the street and taught her to steal. Perhaps she could turn that to her advantage. The Mayor watched her blank face for a few moments, and then turned out of the room, leaving the door open.

Maybe this was a good thing, she mused. She'd been playing by the rules all this time because of Trystan. Because Trystan was supposed to be her guard, and if she slipped out on him then he would be in trouble. Because she felt gratitude to Trystan, because she - dammit, she liked him and that was the truth. She sighed at her own childishness, but she couldn't deny it. Still, this was not the time for revelations. The point was that, without Trystan here, the option of running from Glainmarsh was again open. Of course, she had to deal with the Mayor first, and she was hardly in a strong position to bargain.

The Mayor returned as she weighed her options, now holding a wooden cup.

"Drink this," he said firmly, squatting down closer to her.

"You're mad if you think I'm going to drink anything you give me," she retorted instantly.

"What makes you think you'll have a choice?" smirked the Mayor, relishing her discomfort. "Now, are you going to drink this, or am I going to have to force you? I warn you, I'll only enjoy that more." He leered at her, yellow teeth catching the light beneath those too-red lips. Ellia remained resolutely and uncharacteristically silent. She wasn't going to help him. If he wanted anything from her he was going to be disappointed.

The Mayor shrugged, and knelt down next to her. She couldn't move well because of the weight of the shackles but she still struggled, trying to stay away from him. He grasped her jaw painfully, digging his fingers into her cheeks. She kept her teeth firmly clenched. He grinned at her tauntingly and brought his other hand up, holding her nose closed.

"Come on, little thiefling," he coaxed. "You have to breathe some time."

Ellia held her breath for as long as she could, the Mayor's sweaty hands clasped over her nose and still digging into her cheeks. Finally, as the sides of her vision went dark, her body made the decision for her, and she gasped in air. It was the moment the Mayor had been waiting for. He forced a wooden rod between her teeth and poured the liquid from the cup down her throat, her head yanked back and held fast, his fingers still pinching off her nose. Suddenly it was simple; she had to drink the liquid - it was that or drown.

When the cup was empty, the Mayor set it down beside him on the floor. He let go of Ellia, moving easily out of the way with a high laugh as she kicked out and fought awkwardly. All she managed to do was hurt herself as she sent the cup skittering across the hard stones. Or at least, she thought she had hurt herself. She felt shooting pain in her elbow as the blood rushed to where she had bruised it. I'll have a shiner there tomorrow, she thought absently. But it then didn't hurt. It tickled, it fizzed and... it felt good. Really good. Like she wanted to do it again.

She looked up in horror at the Mayor.

"What did you give me?" she gasped. Her wrists and ankles felt delicious where the shackles bit into them. He reached into her hair and yanked her head back, and she moaned in pleasure before she could help herself. The Mayor grinned maliciously.

"Feels good, doesn't it? A little gift from the Mudlings in exchange for some... of the younger citizens of Glainmarsh. Little cannibals, of course, but they are so good with their potions. Alas, it doesn't last long, or I'd have mixed it into the sedative. But, long enough, I should think. And if you like pain, you'll find that pleasure feels even better", he drawled. Then he kissed her.

She should have been repulsed. He was disgusting, and he had drugged her. Twice. But as their lips met, it was all she could do not to fall into the kiss. Her eyes closed. There was warmth, and some incomprehensible electricity, and her body started to heat up. She wanted him. And he had her right where he wanted her.

The Mayor produced a key as Ellia lay blearily on the floor, drunk with waves of pleasant feelings. She felt the shackles fall away, and moaned afresh as the blood rushed into her joints, causing pain which her body could only interpret as pleasure. Her whole skin was quivering goose bumps. She was totally helpless as he tore her dress down and caressed her. He ripped at her nipples and tugged at her breasts with a cruel sneer. She moaned loudly as his fingernails dug into her skin and her drugged brain told her this was delicious, and begged her for more. Moving back, the Mayor unlaced the front of his trousers, pulling his member out. It was already hard - clearly he had enjoyed having Ellia at his mercy. For one second, she hoped that he would ram it inside her and fuck her immediately. Coming to her senses, she was horrified to realise that she was already damp, her body lustily preparing itself for an onslaught she dreaded. The Mayor was now leaning forward, shuffling up her body and straddling her shoulders. He grabbed her breasts roughly again, causing her to let out another open-mouthed moan, and then shoved his cock between her lips.

He tasted of rank sweat and stale piss. She drooled as he forced her mouth open again with the wooden rod, and rubbed her spit over himself. Then he started to pump in and out of her mouth, hitting the back of her throat with the fat mushroom of his stubby, foul-smelling cock. The back of her head knocked a few times on the stone beneath her as the Mayor became carried away with riding her face, fucking himself deeper into her throat. The strange drug in her system converted this into surges of lust, and she moaned around the Mayor's cock. This final, vibrating stimulation caused him to orgasm, pumping his sperm wildly into her mouth. He drew out, and again held her nose and mouth closed, stroking her throat almost lovingly until she was forced to swallow his sperm. Once he had finally felt her throat muscles contract, he released his grip and she gasped for air, her face red and filled with disgust.

"Now, now, where are my manners?" he tutted. "You've been a good little whore and sucked my cock. I think it's about time I pleasured your cunt."

Ellia was still coughing for air as the Mayor moved from his position over her shoulder and face. He settled himself between her legs on the floor, and hiked her dress up to her waist.

"My, my, look at this. You're wet." He pulled her open, and taunted her as she gasped. "Either you pissed yourself, or you're more of a whore than I thought." He ran his hands over her damp thighs, and up to her swollen labia. He rubbed his fingers into her pooling juices briefly, then rammed two inside her canal. She was very wet but incredibly tight, and it should have been intensely painful. Instead she felt waves of pleasure start to crest. The Mayor grinned at her as she struggled to focus on his face. He was sawing his fingers roughly in and out of her, his chain of office swinging back and forth on his chest with the effort. He pulled them out for a moment and reached up to jam them into her mouth.

"What do you taste like, whore?" he demanded. "Are you sweet? I don't suck off whores until they're mine but maybe soon, when you beg..." he left the words hanging in the air as he shoved his fingers inside her again, adding a third. His onslaught was even rougher now, and Ellia's whole body was shaking with pleasure as well as with his motions. He waited until she was almost there, and then pinched her clitoris hard. Her orgasm was tipped in pain she could almost, but not quite, feel. Exhausted, she lay on the cold stones, panting. The Mayor paused his rough manhandling in order to gloat.

"If only Trystan could see you now - his little project. He wanted to save you, but I know that you can't be saved. You're a filthy whore. You want this. Otherwise you wouldn't be enjoying it." He drew out his hand, and then re-entered her, pushing in four fingers, digging his fingernails into her intimate flesh. Ellia was riding a chain of successive orgasms, now. She couldn't resist, and she hated the Mayor. Hated her body for obeying him. Hated what he was saying. Her mother had been a whore until she'd died, had made Ellia swear never to be. She tried to tune out his words.

"Well, Trystan isn't here now," he goaded.

"Trystan..." The thought was a beacon of logic on these waves of unwanted pleasure. She liked Trystan. He was kind, good to her. Her previous thoughts surfaced, weakly, over the tumultuous mess which was her consciousness. Escape. Something about... She knew this... Oh, yes...

"Membra bindet," she croaked, trying to focus on that calm sensation. Nothing happened. Trystan. Concentrate. Focus. The eye of the storm, where the madness acts as a focal point for the calm inside. She didn't have a lot of magic, she'd never needed it. This one spell, combined with her own skills, had been enough. She concentrated, took a deep breath, and tried to channel her hatred into a cold calm.

"Membra bindet," she tried again, struggling desperately to focus.

This time it worked. The Mayor's body went rigid above her, his limbs clamped to his sides. Finally. Now, what was she doing? Trystan. Escape. Yes.

Blearily, she wobbled to her feet. She still felt disoriented, and there were some strange, jagged humming sounds just out of sight. If she concentrated very hard, she could move without swaying. Her body felt like it belonged to someone else. She realised that her legs were wet and sticky - gods, she'd been gushing. The Mayor was trying to say something to her, but since he was lying on his face on the floor, and every muscle in his body was simultaneously flexing, he was rather difficult to understand. She ignored him.

At that moment, she heard approaching footsteps, still far away. She dragged the body of the Mayor behind the door. He made the occasional grunting noise. She slipped into the shadows at the furthest part of the room as a figure appeared at the door. He was clearly a fool - he ran straight in before his eyes had accustomed to the darkness, giving Ellia the initiative. She clubbed him over the head with the Mayor's heavy chain of office, and he stumbled to his knees. With less than her usual grace she tugged the sword out of his scabbard and held it to the back of his neck. She didn't have any magic left and didn't really want to kill this poor idiot for just doing his job, but if he was going to make things difficult then she would have no choice. The town would never believe her story against the Mayor's, even if that mattered. From what she'd seen in the court, the Mayor of Glainmarsh usually got his way.

The guard was remarkably still.

"Ellia?" cracked a hesitant voice, after a few seconds. She realised that the neck she was currently threatening had greasy, red hair above it. That meant... She wracked her gradually clearing brain.