TWENTY-THREE

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Any doubts I had as to the nature of this encounter rather vanished when I was half-led, half-shoved into a capacious and well-appointed bedroom. The windows were barred; the single door was heavy and oaken, and bore a similarly heavy steel lock. When Trellig locked the door behind her, she did so with the key; there would be no opening the door without it, either.

“I don’t have much time, pretty, so this will have to be just a taste of what’s to come.” She gripped my shoulder just long enough to shove me toward the bed; and though shorter than I by a head, that was certainly tall for a woman, and she was powerfully-built besides, made all the more imposing by her antique-styled leather jerkin, heavy cavalry boots, and the pistol resting in plain sight at her hip.

That sight made me all too conscious of the holster under my own cloak. The woman hadn’t done much to me at this point, and shooting a guard captain just because she chose to seize me, for whatever reason, was the first step on a short trip to the gallows. But if she saw that I was armed, I might well be worse off than I was already.

“Go on, off with all that,” she barked. “Let me see what I’ve got here, top to tail.” She turned toward her desk, picking up a pen and starting to write something.

While her eyes were occupied, I seized my chance. I wriggled out of my cloak, and slipped the holster from my belt as I did so, wrapping the cloak around it. Once I’d let the cloak fall, I started to peel out of my chemise and to slip my boots off; as I was doing the latter, I nudged at the lump in the cloak until it was safely under the bed, and then tugged at the cloak with my toes to ensure the pistol didn’t come back out with it. Thankfully, it did not.

I got no sense of what she was writing until then; I counted myself fortunate when I got the impression that it was a patrol schedule. Routine – I hoped – nothing critical that I’d missed while putting that plan in motion. Then she put it down, more pleasant things on her mind, and turned to find that I was just loosening my belt. I didn’t delay in that; she’d told me to strip, and she was content that I was doing so without further prompting, so I made no efforts to draw things out as I might have for someone who desired a show of it.

Even without the mental contact, I’d have nearly been able to feel the progress of her eyes along my body; that contact simply made it all the more plain. Yes, she liked what she saw; on the one hand, that might keep her pleased, but on the other, she might also grow more possessive of me.

“Good, good,” she purred, turning her chair around and settling into it, one leg across the other knee. “That fellow Martin certainly has good taste in men.” Pity he doesn’t have proper taste in women, but I won’t need him now. “But you wouldn’t be wearing that,” she gestured toward my head, “if you didn’t have some appreciation for women. Flexible, are you?”

“I try to please, ma’am,” I murmured, keeping my eyes on the floor by her feet. I did not want to do anything the woman might think as a challenge, and meeting her gaze would probably qualify.

“I’m sure you do.” She flipped her pistol out of its holster, expertly checking the breech. She freed the magazine and dropped it into her lap before pulling back on the slide, popping a casing free of the breech and snatching it in mid-air. “So show me,” she instructed, pointing with the now-empty pistol. “What are you capable of, huh? How… flexible… are you?”

If she’d put any more weight on the pun, it would have been downright oppressive. Certainly she didn’t think me the equal of her intelligence – and while she might indeed be intelligent, she wasn’t as clever as she apparently thought. At least I knew what she wanted to see, for now. “Of course, ma’am. May I use the bed? It would make me easier to see.”

“Well, what do you know,” she drawled, “you Nordsmen do know how to keep a civil tongue in your heads.” Her hand, pistol included, waved toward the bed just behind me. “Good for you. Yes, use the bed. I want to see it all.”

If ever there was a time when I was worried about my own ability to perform, this was it. Even if it wasn’t loaded, that was a pistol she had in her hand; that she was stripping it for cleaning as she watched me wasn’t exactly comforting. She wasn’t interested in my pleasure; she was only examining her acquisition.

Still, it wasn’t as though I lacked for pleasant memories of late. Images of my companions flickered through my mind, one after the next, each caught in the pleasure we’d shared. Rebecca. Travis. Helen. Elizabeth. Nancy. Even Lieutenant Martin, whose given name I still didn’t know. Every one of them fair to look upon, each in their own way; all of them bearing a distinct spark of passion.

It was that passion which coaxed my manhood to stir. By that time, I was already sitting on that ample bed, my legs spread wide to let her see what I carried between them, my tail curled off to one side and out of the way. I had an arm on the bed behind me, propping me up; with the other, I reached down, giving a caress to my own sac, even as I curled my spine measure by measure.

I hadn’t had a need to pleasure myself since I was a youth; with so much sex in my daily life, some of it for work and some for pleasure, it would have seemed almost redundant. Oh, there had been an evening here or there, when the work was light and the stress of it had lately been otherwise, but even at those times it had been a simple affair; nothing more than grasping hold of it and milking a few squirts out of myself. But I had made an ongoing effort to keep myself limber, and that served me in good stead now. My breath washed over my own bare, rigid flesh, and I couldn’t quite suppress a shiver; I felt an answering swell of eagerness from my observer. I continued, giving my crown a light lick – it was nothing like having someone else do so, or even doing so to someone else, but it was a pleasing sensation all the same.

Then I pressed down farther, the fur on my chin brushing along the underside of my manhood. I curled myself as tight as I could, my head very nearly in between my thighs, but carefully still high enough that she could see under it; and from there, I slid my tongue out, dampening the short, downy fuzz that blanketed my sac, pressing it down on one side, then the other.

“Yessssss,” she crooned, and I felt a thrill of honest pleasure – partly in anticipation, but part of it was every inch enjoying the moment. “You are a flexible thing. Not too proud to swallow yourself, are you?”

Even if I hadn’t had such an obvious leading question, I was not, in fact, too proud for that. I turned my head “downward” – upward, so far as she was concerned; I trailed licks and kisses along my own shaft, keeping my hand down under it, fondling my sac. I gave my helm a few more light licks, and just as I sensed Trellig’s rising impatience for the next stage of the show, I drew it right into my muzzle, pushing down without further delay.

She wanted to see me swallow myself; I would not keep her waiting. It wasn’t the taste or feel of my own manhood that was running through my mind; no, the thoughts that came to my mind were of Lieutenant Martin’s ample piece; of Travis’s proud shaft, surrounded all about by pure, lustrous white; of Thomas, my nearest colleague, and Allan, who’d first brought me into the fold, those two long years ago. No two the same, no one better than any of the others, each with his charm, each one a delight to the tongue.

Conscious of Trellig’s desire for a show, I made no effort to restrain the sounds of my pleasure; they were muffled only by my mouthful of flesh as I bobbed up and down, my own spit shining the flesh just past my nose. And when I felt myself quivering on the edge, I drew up and just barely off, lapping at myself as the shudders of pleasure swept through me, that portion of sticky warmth which escaped my tongue instead splattering onto my muzzle.

By the time I was finished, I yearned to straighten out, to relax; but I stayed there, indeed, pushed my muzzle right back down, lapping at my now-tender flesh, cleaning up whatever scant drops of my seed might have flowed over it.

“Not bad,” the captain purred. “Not bad at all, pretty thing. You know how to listen, that’s good.” You’ll do, all right. Long enough for Frederic to get through his short honeymoon, long enough for that harridan Dentry to take the fall, long enough for me to bring Frederic around. I might even keep you around after, if he’s not satisfying enough. Nothing wrong with a queen having a few consorts.

Leather creaked as she rose to her feet; she pulled the slide of her reassembled pistol, chambering another round. “Enjoy your new quarters, now. Clean yourself up right. I’ve a watch to mind, orders to give, but I’ll be back after the ninth bell, and I’ll expect you to be ready.”

With that brusque instruction, she let herself out of the room, and I heard the lock click behind her.

I finally let myself straighten and relax, still breathing hard, and I fought through the haze of bliss to think clearly.

She’d just revealed her plan to me. All of it, in its full, crazy detail. And here I was, locked in her own bedchamber, until such time as she came back to enjoy me more directly – and I had no reason to believe she’d let me go after that.

How on earth was I to get out of this?

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