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Take Him Back

By: PulpWyatt



Terrance's tent sat on the ground, its peak shoulder-high, waiting for him. It comprised the middle of a neat row of five, capped by the smoldering remains of a cooking fire.

Terrance ducked inside and sat in his cot, sighing as he felt the familiar softness of fur. For a short while, he lay there, enjoying the sensation, then gathered himself and yanked off his boots. Reaching over, he placed them in the tent's far corner, along with his steel helmet, leather armor, falchion and supply pack.

Grass rustled under him as he reached into the pack and drew out a tough, crinkled map, which showed the capital of his native kingdom on one side, and, on the other, its new border region. The border had expanded no less than a month ago, and he and his group had been sent to guard it. For the hundredth time, he tried to estimate when they would get there.

Then he heard something. Instinctively, he reached for his weapon, then relaxed when he recognized the sound. That wasn't anything to worry about; it was the voice of Calida, one of his companions, performing magic. After listening for a few moments, he recognized the spell as a contraceptive.

'She hasn't even asked me first,' he thought with a smirk. 'She's getting brave.'

When his group was formed, Terrance had never expected to be the only male in his five-person group, and he certainly hadn't expected all four of his companions to be dominant. As his pulse quickened, he dreamily wondered what Calida would do to him this time. Maybe she would just walk in and spank him, maybe she would hogtie him and make him lick her again, or maybe she would bind him to the tent stakes, naked, spread and at her mercy.

Terrance could hardly wait.

A thrill shot through him as he heard Calida slip out from her tent. He slumped in his cot and glued his eyes to the map, trying to keep his breathing soft and regular, keeping up the appearance that he hadn't heard her.

The flaps of his tent whispered open, and there was movement beside him. The next thing he knew, strong hands gently fell over his shoulders. With a little push, the hands turned him onto his stomach and pressed him into the ground.

Terrance sensed someone crouching over him, and hot air washed over his left ear, sending heat flaring through his whole body. Under the strong, feminine touch, he went as limp as a doll.

"Are you ready to play?" huffed a female voice.

Terrance couldn't say 'no,' and he knew it. She knew it too. But she had to hear him say it.

"Yes... mistress."

A low, deep laugh danced across his ear, and he felt the hands crawl slowly down his back, around his chest to the low collar of his nightshirt. Three firm, hot points of pressure touched down on his chest, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Nice..." she hissed, drawing out the word until he shuddered.

Her hands curled dexterously around the hem of his shirt, and she slowly rolled it up. With every inch of his well-trained flesh exposed to the cold night, he felt his isolation slipping away.

Her whole weight came down on him, warm leather pressing against hot skin, and he felt a strip of hard cloth pulled into his mouth. With a few deliberate tugs, she tied it in place, muffling his speech.

"That's better," she cooed. "We can't have you making any noise, can we? If you squealed too loud, the others just might wake up and join me."

On that, she reached down- her fingers still caressing his slick skin- and insinuated one finger under his pants. Then another. Then the rest. Her thumb and forefinger found the tip of his cock and pinched. Juice sloshed inside his manhood as she rolled the foreskin around in her fingers.

"Nice..." she said again. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you, you little slut boy?"

He gave a stiff nod.

"Of course you have."

She lifted away, and her arms wrapped around his midsection, then hauled him effortlessly up to his hands and knees. With a little flick, she sent the rest of his clothes fluttering to the ground.

He braced himself to feel a spank, then flinched as her hand came down on him. But she did not strike him. Her fingertips, soft and precise as ever, danced over his skin, setting his nerves alight. Very slowly, traveling in circles like a gliding bird, she made her way between his cheeks.

Terrance cringed as he felt something touch him in his vulnerable hole. It felt like animal fat, but it was even slicker. He let out a panicked grunt as he realized what Calida would do to him.

Moments later, a wooden peg rammed into him, forcing him apart, invading his body with unstoppable deliberation. He bit down on his gag and squealed, grunting with every thrust as Calida forced herself into him again and again. He closed his eyes and focused on maintaining his balance, trying to keep his thoughts straight, only for her to scatter them with every thrust.

Finally, Calida pulled out of him, and his body went slack, suspended on his stiff arms and legs. His head lolled and his chest heaved with long, hard breaths. Then, after a few moments, he felt her omnipresent fingers on his chin, and he purred, pushing himself into her hand.

With her other hand, Calida reached down and felt for his manhood. One pinch into his smooth, hard flesh, and she knew that he was inches from exploding.

Her fingers hovered there, barely touching his manhood, one more squeeze away from sending him over the edge. Instead, she released him, pushed him slowly to the ground. With another swish of her hands, she flipped him over, cradling him.

Now he could see her. Those rock-solid brown eyes and her gentle, self-assured smile shone as hypnotically as ever, and her perfectly-fitted armor flattered her clean, powerful body.

Her eyes locked on his and held them, forbidding him to look away, as her hand reached down to his cock and made one smooth pump, pushing her thumb across his pleasure zone on the underside. All at once, he fell apart. His eyes rolled back and clamped shut, his toes curled, his legs bent and his arms went rigid. Seed gushed from him in one thick wave after another. When the third spurted out, the tension left him, and he relaxed. His eyes opened just enough to focus on her.

She laid him back down on his cot and whisked off his gag, then laid herself tenderly beside him and wrapped her arms over his soft, strong chest.

As he drifted off to sleep, Terrance realized that he had not had intercourse with her. Calida's weaving of the contraceptive spell had been a decoy- a mere red herring that she had wanted him to hear.

As always, the female had stayed one step ahead of him.

* * *

Karla's eyes eased open. Something was abnormal. It couldn't be one of the other women playing with Terrance again; Calida had already fallen asleep with him, and it was too late for that besides. Something else was afoot, and Karla would not rest until she knew more.

Softly, she donned her boots and helmet, then took up her sword and peeked out of the tent.

The next thing she knew, a something blunt struck her square in the face. With a shout, she leapt back, swinging her falchion and tearing through the back of her tent. Turning around, she saw a group of dark-cloaked figures, ropes coiled around their gloved hands. One of them slipped into Terrance's tent, and she saw Calida dart out, followed by Terrance's nimble form. One of them lunged, and Terrance yelped and fell on his face.

Before Karla could react, a pair of hands clapped over her face and yanked her off balance. Tiny fingers pried her sword from her hand, a thick blindfold came down over her eyes and her nightclothes came away in fistfuls. All at once, her covers gave out and fell around her, exposing her to a withering shock of cold as her skin met the night air. A hand found its way to her left breast, and two sharp points of pain flared up on her nipple. She threw her head back and squealed, then felt a soft, rounded cylinder pushed into her mouth. A strap curled around her face, and she struggled for a few moments, vainly trying to force the invader out. As her resistance ebbed, she felt someone tie her hands, then push her, knocking her onto a wooden surface. Voices whispered to one another incomprehensibly, wooden wheels chewed through soft mud, and she heard moaning in three voices. She recognized Masha and Natalia's half-stifled whimpers, and she blushed at Terrance's unmistakable, high-pitched yips.

But she heard no sign of Calida.

* * *

Terrance knelt on the stage, his eyes on the ground. His hands and feet were bound with rough, thick ropes, as they had been for the entirety of the week-long trip, and there was something strapped into his mouth. It was shaped like a cock, and it had the texture of one, giving almost imperceptibly as his tongue passed over it. He sucked on it, and he felt a drop of thick, sweet juice issuing out onto his tongue. His eyes closed as he basked in the flavor for a moment.

Terrance forced himself to refocus. The stage was packed with boys, all stripped, bound and gagged like he was, overlooking a town square covered in stone tiles. Around them rose palatial houses made of what looked like white chalk, with rounded, edgeless roofs and cylindrical columns.

The square itself was packed with visitors, staring eagerly up at the many stages arrayed before them. In front of Terrance, the crowd had almost-even mix of men and women, organized into what looked like couples, all of them dressed in luxurious reds and purples. The men looked up with everything ranging from mild disgust to passive interest, and their wives grinned toothily. A few unaccompanied women were scattered through the crowd, staring at the boys with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, like hunters waiting to strike.

A woman strutted onto the stage, clad in rich ribbons that coiled around her breasts and hips, disappearing onto her skin. Immediately, she had the eyes of most of the men, including Terrance.

She stood behind Terrance and shouted out short phrases in a language Terrance did not understand, gesturing grandiosely and pawing at his hair, then the strap of his gag. She untied the device, then, very slowly, she drew the artificial cock out from Terrance's mouth. Without thinking about it, Terrance kept his lips locked around the thing, sucking a few more drops of sweetness before it finally came out. The auctioneer held up the implement, watching as it dripped with his saliva.

The crowd erupted with feminine cheers, and male voices started calling out, holding up baskets of gold. The auctioneer listened with a growing smile, then descended on Terrance, running her hands up and down his thin, well-toned arms and finally down to his masculinity. Two fingers curled around the tip of his erection and pulled slowly up, like chains hoisting a drawbridge. Terrance closed his eyes and flushed with bright red as his testicles felt the warm, open air.

Finally, the auctioneer let him go and pointed to someone in the crowd, and a lone woman stepped up onto the stage, keeping her stride stately and her manner calm.

Terrance turned to get a close look at her, and his blush took on a different hue.

When he looked into her eyes, what remained of Terrance's nerve melted away in an instant. Two small green beacons, framed by lightly tanned skin and razor-sharp eyebrows, seared dominance at him. Terrance could feel her mind probing around in his, learning things about him that even he did not know. He stayed still and accepted her stare, unable to move.

Finally, she looked away, releasing him, and he got a moment to look at the rest of her. Her figure lacked musculature, but she carried herself with aristocratic poise. Thick bands of cloth, embroidered with gold, crisscrossed her figure, and bright copper hair flowed out from beneath the sharp, curved line of her dark grey hood.

"Get up," she ordered, in his tongue.

Terrance lurched to obey, then his foot bindings went taught, and he tumbled and fell flat on his face. He heard a wave of laughter from the crowd, which immediately stopped registering as he felt fingers on his chin. His head tipped up, and he saw the glowering face of his buyer.

"You should have told me you couldn't do it," she mumbled. "Hold still, and I will unbind you."

"Sorry," said Terrance.

There was rush of air and a light, sharp sting on his left ass cheek.

"Haven't they trained you? You will call me 'mistress' every time I address you. Do you understand me?"

The words caught in Terrance's mouth. The name 'mistress' was not a real title to him; it was a code word for when his companions dominated him- a way to let them know that they had him in their control. And now this woman demanded that he use it as a rank.

"Yes, mistress," he got out, before she could spank him again.

There was a long pause, broken only by distant conversation and the soft grinding noise of rope on rope, and his hand came free. The next moment, small hands seized his wrists, tensed up and hauled him to his feet. The hands released his arms and fastened around his neck. When they came away, there was a tight leather collar strapped around it.

Terrance knew better than to reach up and touch it. He stared straight ahead, letting the woman do what she wanted with him.

The mistress circled leisurely out in front of him and tied a red ribbon around the front of his collar, then held it in one hand and gave it a few experimental tugs. The knot held.

With aloof little huff, the woman turned and led Terrance down the stage, across the city square. The crowd parted for his mistress, and Terrance ducked his head as he felt scores of hands feeling his skin, grabbing for his cock, spanking his ass, even trying to force into his mouth.

Terrance whimpered. Submitting to a female would be easy for him. But being a slave would not.

* * *

Calida stepped carefully down the street, admiring the soft white curves and columns of the buildings around her and the immaculate stone tiles that made up the street.

She was sure Terrance had been taken to this city, but beyond that, the trail went cold. What she could be sure of was that the lot of women was different in this kingdom. The men on the street vastly outnumbered the women, and what few who were out either marched in lockstep with a man, or were led by one on a leash. A few leashed boys caught her eye, but most of them wore shabby robes or simple rags. Disappointingly few of them were dressed to please.

Calida knew that the people who had captured Terrance had been slavers, and they had almost certainly come to sell him here. And, if the people of this kingdom had any appreciation for a cute boy, Terrance could have only been sold as a sex slave. That was where she would start.

At a bustling square, where markets and stages stood like frames around salesmen who hawked their goods, Calida ducked behind the biggest few stages at the edge and spotted a man under a tiny stall, counting up trinkets of gold while three men spoke to him conspiratorially.

Pretending to be casual, Calida sauntered up to the man and said, "Sir, may I have a word with you?"

All four men jumped, and the man at the desk locked his eyes on Calida. There was a moment of silence as he eyed her up and down, processing the armed, leather-clad female figure before him.

"May I help you?" he said at last.

"Hello," she mewled with fake shyness, "I was wondering if you could tell me where they last sold slave boys for sex."

"You've come to the right place," said the man at the desk, a well-built young man with a simple moustache to compliment his back hair. "The last auction was just a day or two ago."

"Was there a boy sold here just a little under my height? With light brown hair, white skin and blue eyes? He's really thin, and shy, but he's also strong. I think he used to be a soldier."

The man thought for a moment and said, "Yes, I remember. I remember who bought him, too."

"Can you tell me who it was?"

"Better- I'll take you there. Provided, that is, we stop at my place first."

He said this with a lewd tinge, and Calida immediately realized that he intended to be paid back for his efforts. Without moving, she considered the possibility that this was a trap.

"Besides," said the man, "In this kingdom, it's not proper for a lady to be unaccompanied. You could run into trouble on your own."

Suspecting that the last clause was true, Calida made her decision.

With a careful effort, she reassumed her waifish manner and said, "Okay. I'll go with you."

The man rose, daintily took her hand, then led her out into the street. Calida looked back and saw the other three men trade stymied glances, then go their separate ways.

As they walked, the man ran his mouth about businesses and politics and gossip, all while his hand crawled up her arm, then brushed over her firm side. She looked over to the man, and his eyes broadcasted lust.

It occurred to her to be disgusted, but, as she stared back at him, Calida could only register curiosity. She had never bedded a man who acted like this before.

'Mother always said it was good to try new things,' she thought.

A few minutes later, the man steered Calida down an ostentatiously wide residential street, then into a comparatively modest cell-like house.

The exact minute they were inside, the man's hand came over Calida's buttocks. She broke cover for a moment, brushing him calmly away.

"This is going to be good," said the man aloud. "Mazoon! Come in here!"

Into the room stepped a short, dark-skinned woman who looked to be only a few years younger than Calida, with short black hair that hung at jawbone height and with wide, almost sad blue eyes. A collar with a single decorative lace coiled loosely around her neck, and a simple mauve dress with diagonal slashes covered her diminutive form.

"Mazoon," said the man, his voice full of smugness, "We've got a... special... guest today. Get her ready, will you, my dear? And take all the time you need. You know a good job is better than a quick one."

"Yes, master," said Mazoon. "Come this way, ma'am."

Calida followed the black woman down a set of stairs, casually scanning for any signs of a trap, and stopped at a small but lavish bedroom.

"My master brought you here to bed you," said Mazoon. "He usually does that with girls he does favors for."

"I understand," said Calida politely. "I had gathered that."

"You are smarter than most of the girls he brings here," said Mazoon.

Calida took a moment to be abashed by Mazoon's bluntness, then replied, "Where I come from, you learn to pick up on subtleties like that."

"Now," said Mazoon, "just relax."

Gently, Mazoon unstrapped the first layer of Calida's armor and lifted it away, then placed it with respectful care on a table.

In this manner, Calida's clothes slowly came away, one piece a time, revealing a well-toned shoulder here, a tight stomach muscle there, then her firm, tightly rounded ass. Lastly, Mazoon pulled away the warrior's bra, revealing two feminine mounds melded onto Calida's formidable body.

Blush crept across Mazoon's face as she reached over and cupped one of Calida's breasts, then the other, massaging them smoothly. Calida opened her mouth to stop her, but only a light moan escaped her. This woman knew exactly what to do; she pressed in exactly the right places, not too softly and not too hard. All the while, Mazoon whispered a transferrable contraceptive spell. Calida stiffened up as she felt the light shock of magic course through her.

Mazoon's hands crept down Calida's body, gentle fingers teasing her nerves, until finally the slave girl knelt. Calida looked down, confused, then she felt warm wetness brush across her femininity.

Calida sagged and huffed, struggling to keep her composure as Mazoon drew tingling lines through her sex, making straight for her pleasure spots. Then, after five strokes, she came away.


Take Him Back



"I'm sorry," she said, businesslike, "but that's all I can do for you."

As Mazoon stood up and turned to leave, Calida arrested her with a hand on her shoulder, then pulled her in and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you," Calida whispered. "I don't know if you know this, but that was great."

The slave smiled, but said nothing. As soon as Calida released her, she walked curtly out of the room.

Calida stood for a moment, reeling from the unexpected thrill. She had never realized that she had a taste for women, and for skill with her tongue, Mazoon was almost a match for Terrance.

Almost.

A few seconds later, the man stepped into the room, fully clothed, his hands folded calmly behind his back. Calida watched as he eyed her up and down, seeing her as a hot, sweating mess. From the smile on his face, she could tell that he expected her to be an easy conquest. As she inwardly gathered herself, Calida decided that nothing would be farther from the truth. Through his slave, this man had aroused her, awakening all of her pent-up energy.

He had made a big mistake.

He walked confidently across the room, patiently shucking off his clothes as he went, revealing limber arms, a gently haired chest, and a shaven, well-proportioned cock.

His hands alit on her shoulders and pushed her gently back to the bed behind her, then folded her onto the mattress. As she sank into the softness, Calida looked up, watching as the man straddled her. She laid her head back and closed her eyes.

A thick spear of flesh washed into her, and Calida arched her back, nearly tearing the sheets with her fingers. Her eyes shot open, but she saw almost nothing, and her ears barely registered her own moaning.

The man's pumping softened just a little, and Calida's senses came suddenly back to her. She saw the man looking down at her. He looked concerned at first, then proud of himself.

The speed picked up again, and Calida gathered herself, straining to keep her composure as pleasure surged into her, one delicious pump at a time. The man kept his pace this time, but Calida could feel the edge coming off of his strength. She waited for him to slow down, itching to jump him and turn the tables.

Finally, his speed ebbed away, and she made her move. Forcing herself up with one hand, she planted her other palm on the man's chest, sending him onto the bed. Without losing a moment, Calida got up and crawled onto him, then pinned him in place.

"You're good," she breathed through gritted teeth. "But it's my turn now."

With a grunt, she brought herself down on the man. She let out a long moan, but held herself together and kept bucking, not slowing down. Beneath her, the man crumbled fast. His eyes were closed, and breath huffed out of his open mouth with every push. His hands grabbed at nothing, then curled around the sheets. His chest rose and fell faster and faster, his teeth clamped together, and he arched his back.

A hard burst flowered inside Calida, and she clutched the man's shoulders, screwing her eyes shut as she felt his waves pulsing through her.

Her senses quit her for a moment.

When she opened her eyes, the man was still beneath her, breathing heavily, his eyes softly shut and his limbs completely limp. His mouth hung open, and his breaths were shallow.

Calida stood up, enjoying one last wave of friction as his cock slid out of her. The man gave a twitch of life, then his back relaxed, and he went still. He was asleep.

Calida stood beside his bed, admiring her handiwork. Then fire between her legs still burned, hungry for its first release. Calida looked down to the incapacitated man before her, then over her shoulder. For a moment, she was on the verge of summoning Mazoon for more sex.

On a whim, she decided to save it for Terrance.

Casually, she donned her clothes and armor, then laid the man's covers over him, tucking him neatly in. With that, she quietly stepped out of the room.

"Mazoon?" she called softly. "Mazoon, are you here?"

"Yes, ma'am?" came the equally dainty reply.

"Your master promised me a tour of the city," she lied. "He's asleep now, and he said you'd do it instead."

Mazoon brought a hand to her mouth and said, "Oh..."

Calida raised an eyebrow.

"I mean... yes, ma'am. If you think you'd be safe without a man... of course. Let me get my leash."

Calida smiled half-consciously as she watched Mazoon tie a rope around her collar, weaving the knot with expert practice, then handed the looped end to Calida.

"I've never had a slave on a leash before," said Calida, smiling with anticipation.

Mazoon kept up her servile silence. Calida looked over to the girl's graceful, gentle figure, and her eagerness flared up.

"Let's go," she said.

As the two of them strode out onto the street, Mazoon looked uncomfortably over to Calida. Then she looked again.

"Is something on your mind?" asked Calida.

"Oh... sorry, ma'am."

"It's alright. Have you got something to say?"

"Well... may I ask an impertinent question, ma'am?"

"Go ahead."

"How was my master? Was it fun?"

Calida burst out with short, loud laughter, then gathered herself. For the next five seconds, she thought carefully.

"It felt good," she said at last. "He knows the right speeds, his cock is a good size for me and he was pretty, but it just wasn't the same."

"Wasn't the same as what, ma'am?"

"My sub, Terrance."

"Your sub, ma'am?"

"My submissive. He's a boy who does whatever I tell him in bed. And he's not my slave; he just does it because he enjoys it."

Mazoon stared at her with eyes full of befuddlement.

"Anyway," said Calida, "your master wasn't quite the same because, for one thing, I didn't know him. I didn't even know what his name was. It's always better when you know your partner. The other thing is that... well, it felt like we were competing. We were both trying to be on top. I don't like it when there's that kind of tension, even when I win."

"You sounded pleased from the other room, ma'am."

Calida smirked and said, "I bet I did. Like I said, he had good speed and good size. By the way, do you like boys too?"

"Yes, ma'am. I prefer women, but it's been too long since I've felt a man. My master never uses me that way."

"In that case, it might just be your lucky day."

"What, ma'am?"

"You'll see. Oh, and you wouldn't happen to know where your master last sold a slaveboy to, do you?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's an unusual place."

"Tell me about it on the way, would you?"

Mazoon gave Calida another reproachful stare, then bowed her head and whimpered, "Yes ma'am."

* * *

Terrance walked behind his new mistress, still throwing worried glances in every direction, shrinking as the passers-by stared. Eventually, Terrance noticed that the people were not staring at him. Instead, their eyes were locked on his mistress. After the bulk of the trip, Terrance realized that his mistress was the only woman he had seen so far to walk without the company of a free man.

She stopped at a marble tower that was set inside its own richly tiled square and which rose almost half again as high as the buildings around it. Two guards in excessively thick armor stood at the foot of the tower, spears crossed over the door. Without a word, they uncrossed their polearms, letting the mistress through.

In aloof silence, the mistress led Terrance up a spiral staircase that looped around the tower, showing him glimpses of the first few floors, where he saw desks, papers and what he assumed were mathematical instruments.

A few more floors, and the distinct smell of flower-scented candles reached his nose, reminding him of his last visit to his duke's castle back home.

Suddenly, Terrance noticed that his mistress was not in front of him anymore. She had turned into the room to his left. Before his leash could go taught, he took a hasty few steps to the side and settled in behind her again.

His mistress turned and shot him a suspicious glare with those piercing eyes, and Terrance shrank away, but did not break his pace. She shot him a raised eyebrow, then disregarded him.

With a little flick of her hand, the mistress discarded his leash, then pointed to the ground by her right hand and said, "Sit."

Terrance seated himself, cross-legged, and looked expectantly up at his owner. As her response, she walked back to the staircase, then up, leaving him.

Terrance did his best to clear his mind. He decided he would worry about escaping sometime later, and focused on the sweet floral smell that filled the room.

A minute into his wait, Terrance idly scanned the room. The only decorations were a shelf lined with candles, a fresco of a battlefield and a table with a single chair. Otherwise, the room was a bare stone cylinder.

The soft padding of feet reached his ears, and Terrance straightened his posture.

"Is that him, mistress?" said a deep male voice.

"Why, Boridae, you know better than to speak up without permission."

"Oh..."

"I trust that was merely a lapse in judgment, so I will not punish you. Consider yourself warned. Now, yes, he is indeed the new slave. I want you to shackle him under the table and give me a shoulder massage."

"Yes, mistress."

The slave walked out in front of Terrance, and he took in the sight of a full-figured man with a narrow waist and blond hair that hung down just beneath his chin. He stopped for a moment, his eyes devouring Terrance, and a churlish smile bloomed on his lips.

"Come on," he whispered to Terrance. "Get up."

"Who are you?" Terrance whispered back.

The other slave put a finger to his lips as he lead Terrance by the shoulders over to the table, then, with a gentle shove, folded him onto his knees and pushed him under the table. The blond boy twirled his index finger, and Terrance, getting the message, turned to face the chair.

Practiced hands pressed Terrance's wrists into cold metal plates on the underside of the table, and tiny hinges creaked shut. Icy bands of metal closed over his hands, trapping them. With that, Terrance was pinned on his knees with his arms flung out behind him and his head thrust forward, just above the seat of the chair.

The mistress stepped up to the chair, completely nude, and the blond slaveboy gently guided her into the chair, all the while keeping his eyes on Terrance. Terrance returned his gaze, unsure what to make of him, then his mistress settled in front of him and spread her legs, revealing a rosy red slit that already glistened with moisture. The boy gave her chair a measured push, and she moved within inches of his mouth.

Without realizing it, Terrance licked his lips.

* * *

The mistress settled smoothly into her chair, sighing as Boridae's nurturing hands pampered her tense shoulders. She looked down at the new boy between her legs, delighted to see him licking his lips.

"Now, boy," she said, placing a hand on the back of his head. "You're going to lick me, but I don't want an orgasm. When I tap the top of your head, go faster and deeper, and, if I tap the neck, go gentler. If you understand, stay quiet."

The boy stayed quiet, and she tapped the top of his head, then relaxed and waited to feel his tongue. Just when she was ready to prod him, his warmth washed across her sex, just close enough to her pleasure zones to stimulate her. She threw her head back, clenching her teeth, and let out a long, heavy sigh. Her loins stirred and grew sensitive, and she nearly mustered the energy to tap the boy's neck when he slowed down on his own, continuing to hold her at a steady warmth.

There was no doubt about it; this boy had been a good choice.

When, at last, enough stress had flowed from her, she straightened her posture and set her mind to her dreary responsibilities. She tapped the neck of the new slave, and he slowed again, letting her fire die down a little.

"Boridae," she said, her voice deeper and calmer than before. "Does anything require my attention?"

"Yes, mistress. We have a message from Senator Dusicyon."

"Another would-be suitor?" she groaned.

"I haven't read it, mistress. Shall I bring it to you?"

The mistress sighed again, tapped the new boy's head and said, "Bring it in."

Boridae's calming hands came off her shoulders, and he padded away. She focused on the new boy's licking and closed her eyes, sighing raggedly. She reached down to tap his neck, but, before she could, he slowed down of his own accord.

This boy was good. Surely, the slavers had trained him for years before selling him.

Boridae stepped back into the room, his footsteps properly hushed, and said, "The message, mistress."

No sooner than he had deposited a scroll on her table, his hands returned to her shoulders, plying his peaceful trade.

Just as the mistress felt her tension dissipating again, she read the scroll, and it all came rushing back. Indeed, it was another would-be suitor, and, even by the standards of such men, he wanted for subtlety.

"The audacity!" she growled. "This man writes as though he already owns me! Listen to this: 'It is a great injustice that this fad of feminine empowerment should saddle a woman such as you with the burden of running a household and an estate. Surely, it has not escaped you that nature must inevitably take its course and deliver to you a man who may guide and protect you. It is my great ambition for that man to be me.'"

The new boy picked up his pace, but she placed a hand on his head and pushed him away. There was no pleasuring her now.

"And he goes on for paragraphs!" she continued, hurling the scroll aside. "My gods, can't these men learn?"

With a grunt, she planted her elbows on the table and buried her head in her hands.

"I swear," she murmured, "No living thing is this kingdom is as put-upon as I am."

She bitterly imagined what rebuke she would use, then her spirits rose as something else occurred to her.

"Stop, Boridae," she ordered. "We'll address the senator later. For now, there's something I've wanted to do for a long time."

* * *

Calida tiptoed up the spiral stairs, her bare feet pressing against the harsh marble steps. Her eyes and ears stayed sharp for any disturbance. She looked back over her shoulder, expecting the guards to realize that they had been tricked. Everything stayed quiet.

For the fifth time, Calida quietly blessed Mazoon and her seduction skills.

Calida reached the first room and very slowly poked her head in, finding nothing. Patiently, she skulked up to the next room and did the same. Then the third.

"Come on," said a male voice, "you might like it."

Calida froze. After a moment of listening, she identified the voice as coming from ahead. She crept up the stairs, then stopped when someone spoke up again.

"I don't know about this," came the reply. "I've done this before, but... not like this. I don't like that she just put this together."

That was Terrance's voice.

"Oh, don't worry about her," said the unfamiliar voice. "You'll get used to her. What about us? Don't you want to give it a try? Like you said, you've even done it before."

There was another pause. Stepping up to the room where the voices came from, Calida peeped in.

Inside, Terrance knelt with a tall blond boy. Both of them bare naked, their well-honed bodies on full display. They were locked in a frame that held them in their kneeling positions, facing each other. Their collars were tied together by a rope that couldn't have been any longer than ten inches, and each boy's hands were tied together behind the other's back. To Calida's delight, the blond boy's fingers played with Terrance's fleshy cheeks, kneading them and pulling them with gentle rhythm. The boys' erections hung stiffly between them, swaying every time they moved, coming tantalizingly close to touching.

"Look," said the blond boy, "my mistress has been wanting this for almost as long as she's had me. Now that she has two males, she's going to get us to do it sooner or later. We might as well get used to it now."

"Okay... I suppose you're right."

The blond boy cracked a wide grin, then took a deep breath.

"On 'three,'" said Terrance. "One... two... three."

The boys practically lunged for each other, their lips pressing with sudden urgency, and the blond boy closed his eyes as he drank in the other's kiss. His fingers clenched over Terrance's buttocks, pulling them up and apart, and Terrance gave another one of his delicious little moans.

With a quick sigh, they pulled away, and the blond boy smiled deeply at Terrance.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he said. "How many times have you done that before?"

"With a boy? Oh... not many."

The blond boy slapped Terrance's ass, and he bit his lip against the jolt, his back arching, his cock bouncing in front of him.

"Come on," the blond boy chided, "I know an amateur kisser, and that wasn't it."

"Okay," said Terrance. "I've kissed a man once before. And my lovers back in the army kissed me a lot."

"Army? You were an army boy?"

"Yes. I never saw combat, but I was trained for it."

Having heard enough, Calida stepped into the room and knocked on the doorsill.

Both boys jumped. The blond one stared back at Calida with eyes full of shock, and Terrance looked horrified, then bemused.

"C-Calida?" said Terrance. "Did you come for me?"

"Of course I did," Calida grinned, stepping up to him. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

"Oh, thank you, Calida."

"You know her?" asked the blond boy.

"That's right," said Calida. "I'm taking Terrance to freedom. And there's room for you too."

The blond boy traded wide-eyed stares with Terrance, then looked to Calida and said, "Thank you, ma'am. Yes, I'll go with you, and I'll do anything I can to help."

Calida interlocked her fingers and cracked her knuckles, then went at the restraints, freeing the boys' ankles and unstrapping their hands. They stood up, the blond boy first, then tried to separate, only to be stopped by the rope that still held their faces close. Simultaneously, they looked to Calida, begging with their eyes.

With one last smirk, she finally reached over and unclipped their collars.

"Thank you, ma'am," the blond boy repeated. "By the way, my name is Boridae. I hope I can pay you back somehow."

"Don't worry about it. And my name's Calida."

"Now do we escape?"

"Not yet. We haven't given your mistress a taste of her own medicine yet. Do you know how she makes her money?"

Terrance looked to Boridae, who answered, "She's an heiress and a landlady."

"Then she won't be much of a fighter," said Calida.

Boridae tilted his head and said, "...no."

"Good. I'll jump her, tie her up and leave her for the guards to find."

Boridae recoiled, then gradually sprouted a perverse grin. Terrance looked at the floor.

"Is something wrong, Terrance?" she asked, softening her voice for him.

"No," he said, "It's just that I have a better idea."

* * *

Senator Dusicyon drummed his fingers uneasily on the table, trying to keep his mind clear. Before him, his favorite slave girl danced his favorite dance. All while she went through the motions, she took every opportunity to peek at her master. Everything from his firm, gently commanding face to his strong, evenly proportioned body made this former general a treat for her eyes.

Dusicyon managed a flattered smile, but still his mind stayed adamantly elsewhere. Just like the last four days, he had been fretting over his letter to the landlady he had desired. Had he worded his request well? Had she been won over? Could she even be convinced?

"Master," came another voice, "you have a delivery."

Dusicyon stood up and motioned for his dancing girl to stop. She dampened her pace and flowed into a kneeling position without breaking her flow.

"Thank you, Shella," he said to dancer. "That was wonderful, as always. We'll continue as soon as I have this taken care of."




Take Him Back



Patiently, Dusicyon followed his butler down to the entryway, then gasped at what he saw.

There knelt a limber woman with bright orange hair, wearing only a thin, see-through skirt around her waist and with golden tassels pasted over nipples. Thin ropes held her wrists fast to her ankles, which were in turn secured to her upper legs, keeping her locked in her ornamental pose, with her back straight and her whole torso on display. A strap held a ball of cloth in her mouth, silencing her, and her sharp green eyes stared widely back at him, full of supplication. An expensive-looking collar hung around her neck, its metal hook loop jutting forward, inviting a leash.

Dusicyon stared for a moment, words failing him, then noticed a scroll resting on the ground in front of her knees. Still incredulous, he held up the scroll and read it.

'Senator Dusicyon,' it read, 'we, a group of foreign vigilantes, have deemed this woman unfit to rule her estate. Having read your willingness to take charge of her, we have granted you the responsibility. We hope you will have great luck and take great pleasure in training her to suit you.

'Goodbye forever,

'Your anonymous friends.'

Senator Dusicyon looked down at his new slave, disbelieving his eyes. Then a broad grin dominated his face, causing the woman to shrink away.

"Tell Shella that she may rest for the remainder of the evening," he said to the butler. "And get my assistant in here. Evidently, we have work to do."

* * *

Boridae's eyes fluttered open, and he saw Terrance lying next to him, smiling back. The two boys lay as they had fallen asleep, with collars around their necks, leashes leading up to Calida's strong hand, and with faded red handprints on their bare rumps.

"Good morning," Terrance whispered. "You're looking nice."

"I feel wonderful," Boridae replied. "Last night was... I've never felt anything like it."

"Isn't she great?"

"Now, don't give her all the credit. Come here..."

Reaching over, Boridae took Terrance's chin in his hand and led him into a soft kiss. Terrance's hand found the other boy's side and ran up and down his smooth, clean skin, luxuriating in the warmth.

"Hey, boys," came Calida's voice, "as much as I hate to interrupt, we need to get going."

"Why?" asked Boridae, pulling away. "No one knows we escaped, do they?"

Boridae looked to the distant silhouette of the city, feeling a sudden rush of uncertainty.

"No one who matters," said Calida. "But we've got people of our own to chase. Terrance here isn't the only one who got taken my slavers. I got a few hints that Natalia went to Fulzore. That's our next destination. Come on, let's get moving."

With only that, she stood up, giving the boys time to do the same, and marched off westward, leading them by their leashes.

"Don't women rule in Fulzore?" asked Boridae.

Calida smirked and said, "It's customary for a man to wear a collar there. Are you up to it?"

Terrance looked to Boridae, then down to himself and said, "I think we'll do just fine."

The End