Saffay was on her way to the center of Ethecreeth.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this!
Twice she stopped and nearly turned back. She’d made sure no one saw her leave Purla’s Temple. Not easy, but she’d done it. She thought she might also be able to get back in without being seen. If not, she would just say she was stretching her legs. Whatever.
It wasn’t too late. She could turn back.
She did not turn back.
It felt so unwise to go towards Dorrin!
It was unwise! She knew it was. It was not product to purposely go towards danger. Dorrin probably did not seem dangerous to anyone other than Saffay, but Dorrin felt extremely dangerous to Saffay.
It was unwise to bring herself within range of a threat, but wasn’t it also unwise to fail to deal with a threat? The sooner she dealt with the Dorrin threat, the sooner it would not be a threat.
So, was it wise logic that had her traveling towards Dorrin, or was it extreme foolishness?
It was simple: Dorrin was a threat to Saffay’s reputation. With the male-dominated society of Phallassia, there were few opportunities for women to succeed on their own. Most women depended on men. That made them vulnerable. That meant most women were, a little or a lot, mistreated by men.
Saffay had it good as a warrioress of The Watch. No, she had it great. She had friends and independence, was allowed to have her own personality, and to make her own choices. She could say and do whatever she wanted, within reason and while obeying all laws.
She had adventures! She got to fight evil often. Or at least unlawfulness.
She got to make a difference. And people liked her. Many respected her!
The look of respect from the eyes of the populace, the look of gratitude for deeds well accomplished, was invaluable to Saffay.
Dorrin was a threat to all that. What if Dorrin started talking about Saffay? What if Dorrin told people she dominated Saffay in the alley and used her for sex?
Saffay could not simply lie about it. Firstly, she did not like to lie. She did not want to debase herself by lying. But more practically, there were simple and common spells of truth. With little effort and little cost, Dorrin’s claim could be proven true and Saffay’s dispute of it proven false.
Everyone would know the truth if Dorrin started talking.
Thus, it was prudent for Saffay to go into town and take care of the problem.
However… it was also most unwise!
There were reasons for that. Saffay was not completely sure of what she planned to do once she found Dorrin. Stab her with the gladiolus? Or choke her? Or utilize a blunt object, such as a large stone, in order to make the death appear more random, as if it was a result of the ongoing disruption of law in Ethecreeth?
Saffay was not even completely sure of her true intent in going into town to find Dorrin. That was the real worry.
It had been several days since… the, ah… interlude in the alley. No, wait, interlude sounded lascivious. It at least hinted at it. Saffay did not want any lasciviousness in her mind. It was a taint! It was a distraction!
Saffay would think of it as… the alley incident. Yes, that worked. An incident was, by definition, incidental. It was not a major thing. It was only incidental. It was not important. It was nothing important enough for anyone to look at or think about it for long. Life was busy for everyone, and full of so very many incidents. Yes, Saffay would think of it as the alley incident.
Saffay had indeed done a great deal of thinking over the past several days. And especially at night.
The untainted members of The Watch, and the can’t-taint-this members of the local Purlanian chapter were cooped up in Purla’s Temple. They were waiting for the sorceress Rinnassa to summon and build up enough magic to free the compromised members of The Watch from their terrible predicament with the living uniforms. Those evil fucking Chufwaask!
Saffay had felt terribly cooped up. It was driving her crazy. It would be frustrating in the best of times, but so much more so with her own thoughts plaguing her. She couldn’t get the “incidental” alley incident out of her mind. She wondered if dealing with Dorrin, in a very final way, would finally cast the memory from her mind.
But it wasn’t only memories that afflicted her. It was… further fantasies. She kept thinking about other things Dorrin, or others, could have done to her had she been stupid enough to let Dorrin chain her up in the alley and if she was then thereafter kept there for free use by any passersby, or at least usage by Dorrin.
Fuck! A stupid little nasty Assistant Merchant! She let a fucking Assistant Merchant do that to her! A woman! A small woman with no known fighting skills! A woman Saffay likely – nay, most certainly — could have beaten, or even killed, with one hand and no weapon!
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Saffay had allowed it to happen now, when The Watch and its allies needed her most, and all while she was within sight of other members of The Watch being “tabled.”
The “tabled” members of The Watch were trapped in uniforms that were actually living intelligent fucking evil creatures. The corrupted women were getting used every which way on the public tables in the town square, each of them with multiple sexual partners, more or less perpetually, and Saffay, instead of helping them or simply dutifully observing the situation for later revenge upon the afflicters and observing best possible methods to save them in the future, had instead let an Assistant Merchant dominate her and have sex with her!
In her own defense, it was noteworthy that she’d had to pretend to be afflicted with one of the Chufwaask uniforms. Yes, sure, she had had to pretend so that Dorrin did not raise the alarm. But had she had to cum like that, more than once and so powerfully? Had she had to feel the role more than she had acted the role?
Probably not. Definitely not. Preferably not.
The problem with the “alley incident” – well, there was more than one problem with it….
The main problem was that it was not confined to the alley and that one night. It kept going on in Saffay’s head!
The alley incident was ongoing. It just kept going! Round and round in her head, like the thoughts were a wagon pulled by a tireless undead stallion.
Which led to other problems. It was so difficult being shut in at Purla’s Temple. So much more difficult than it should be. There was no privacy! Well, there was some. She did have her own quarters. But people were always coming and going, keeping it clean, changing bedding, putting in fresh potpourri and flowers.
Oh, and there was no door! No door on a bedchamber! And someone could walk by at any moment. You never knew.
None of that would normally be important. Hell, Saffay was used to campaigns during which she slept in large tents with other warriors and warrioresses. Had they still been camping out in the woods, there wouldn’t have been much privacy either.
Normally, Saffay did not have much need for privacy. She only needed privacy when she wanted to do private things to her private parts. Which, as it turned out, she did want to do during her time staying at Purla’s Temple. Very much so. Why? Because of a nasty little bitch of an Assistant Merchant!
Saffay had refrained from self-pleasuring. Mostly. She had caught her hand several times on her pussy, rubbing, or sliding down to rub it. When she caught it, whether short of its goal or arrived at its goal, she had moved it away.
That damn open doorway! She had an excellent reputation to consider. She could not let any of those nosy “oh, I’m so helpful” Purlanian temple wenches see her feeling herself up. That was no way to build a reputation. At least, not a good reputation.
It made Saffay angry. Where was her room’s fucking door? What was wrong with these Purlanians? Didn’t they believe in doors?
Saffay knew they believed in some doors for some people. That sexy Eldress with her blinky blink big blue eyes had a door on her quarters. Apparently doors were a privilege, not a right, and went to those of higher rank. What about a guest like Saffay? What about an honorable member of The Watch? What about her?
Saffay wondered if she should ask for a door to be installed. She also wondered if they would wonder why she wanted a door so badly. She guessed she had better not ask for one. She needed to control herself.
Her hand had caused some pleasure during its various attempts at self-pleasuring Saffay. But not to completion and no one had seen her groping herself.
If she’d been able, or allowed herself, to self-pleasure to completion, would it have helped her put the alley incident out of her mind? She wasn’t sure. Maybe it would have made it worse. Orgasming during the alley incident was a shameful thing. Her fantasies were activated.
Saffay thought if she had self-pleasured for longer than a moment, and had not stopped herself every time, her thoughts would have turned to what Dorrin did to her. After all, when trying to have an orgasm, the mind was likely to repeat the recent path to orgasm success.
She would have gone down memory lane by thinking about what happened in the alley. Memory alley?
If shedid self-pleasure to an orgasm and thought about Dorrin dominating her as she did it, Saffay was pretty sure it would worsen her internal emotional situation.
Having an orgasm while thinking about getting dominated – by a lowly Assistant Merchant! By another female! – subsequent to having orgasms while actually having been dominated — by a lowly Assistant Merchant! By another female! – might have done something to Saffay beyond the orgasm itself.
What if it permanently made her prefer females? What if it made getting dominated a necessary element to any future orgasms, whether delivered by others or at her own hand?
That would be a problem! Saffay did not want to be a female who preferred females in that way. She did not want others to think of her that way, either.
Even worse, what would people think of her if they knew she submitted and let herself be humiliated sexually? They would have to think less of her! A lot less! Those who let themselves be treated like they were lesser quickly became lesser. A loss of status in the bedroom (or an alley) could quickly lead to a loss of status all the time in all things everywhere.
Sooner or later, people would catch on. They’d see something or hear something. People would talk. People would know. If evil-doers and law-breakers that Saffay dealt with as a member of The Watch knew she submitted in the bedroom (or in alleys), how could she expect them to submit to her directions that they cease and desists whatever wrong they were doing? Who would let her arrest them and bind them if they knew she enjoyed being bound?
Even if she wanted to repeat what happened in the alley, in some way with some one at some point in the future, she absolutely could not afford to do so.
Purla’s Temple was nice, with great accommodations other than the lack of doors on many of the bedchambers. But being stuck there was bad. It was worse than because of the lack of privacy, and because of the memories and images dancing in Saffay’s head.
Everyone at the temple was beautiful. The untainted members of The Watch, the Eldress, the Purlanian Guardians, and even the Purlanian acolytes. Saffay wouldn’t normally care. But the pretty faces and lovely forms almost seemed to taunt her. They made her want to do things she should not want to do.
The Guardians were silently curious about the temple’s guests, often staring. They didn’t do it in a female preferring females way, but it made Saffay feel like she was putting on a show. Almost like she should flaunt her assets and try to inspire them to prefer females.
That was soooo not like her. That was soooo not who she wanted to be. She wanted to be known for her bravery and courage and battle accomplishments. Not for her ass or her tits or for showing off her long legs!
There was something a little odd going on at the temple as well. Rinnassa and the Eldress had frequent meetings in Eldress Lum’s bedchamber. They were the leaders of the effort and good communication was certainly expected. They must be strategizing how to combat and defeat Sliphera’s evil.
But it was weird. First, just the truth, it was odd seeing Rinnassa entirely nude trapped in the wheeled wood frame. In Saffay’s current mental predicament, she could not help that it struck her as sexy. Rinnassa had such incredible beauty. And what a figure! By “figure” of course Saffay meant Rinnassa’s breasts. Wow.
Sometimes it seemed like Rinnassa’s breasts were bigger than they were before. Bigger than before the disruption in Ethecreeth and then even bigger than they were when Rinnassa arrived at Purla’s temple. Maybe it was Saffay’s newly overactive imagination, but a few times it had appeared as if there was a droplet of milk at the tip of Rinnassa’s nipples!
Saffay actually knew it was not her imagination. She had keen eyesight. As well, once she observed a droplet fall to the floor without Rinnassa noticing. When Eldress Lum wheeled Rinnassa away for yet another private strategy meeting in Eldress Lum’s quarters, Saffay had knelt to the floor and looked. Right where she expected to find it was a spatter of white liquid.
White liquid that had emerged and dripped off Rinnassa’s nipple. So… breast milk, right? It had to be. It did not take an expert Apotheker to draw that conclusion.
Saffay had felt a bizarre unsettling urge to swipe up the liquid with her finger and lick it. Of course, she had not done so. Off the floor? Probable breast milk? Why had she felt such a crazy urge?
She swore she could smell it. Like sweet milk and something else. Saffay had never been much of a milk drinker, but the smell, if it was from that droplet, made her feel a powerful urge to find and guzzle milk. The smell made her thirst for the taste.
It was scary how powerful that feeling was.
Just as unsettling was how later on that night, in bed, she’d felt a totally inappropriate regret that she had not licked up the white liquid. As if it were a once in a lifetime opportunity and she had failed to take it.
Why was the sorceress lactating? Was it a new thing? Her breasts did seem larger than before. Even larger. Had the witch cursed her in such a personal way? If so, why?
First the witch put Rinnassa in that terrible frame and booby trapped it – no pun intended! – to release a deadly explosion if any attempt at escape was made. How awful! It seemed Rinnassa might have to live her life within the confines of the frame. Getting wheeled around. Constantly naked.
It seemed that terrible fate was not enough for the cursed cursing witch. It seemed Rinnassa was also doomed to freely produce milk. And to have great big breasts, even larger than before. It was one thing to be naked. It was another to be naked when so desirable due to beauty and to have such huge breasts while naked. And for them to make milk!
What a nasty curse that was! Saffay found herself on several occasions lying in bed imagining she was cursed in such a way. Saffay had no current interest in having children, and very little long-term interest, but she was curious about being in milk and how that would feel.
When she lay in bed thinking about it, she could not help imagining that her nipples would be bigger and more sensitive, and that it would feel so sexy to let down milk, to feel it running through her big sensitive nipples.
She also could not help fingering and flicking her nipples. Then making her fingers resemble little latching mouths that pulled and tugged on her nipples, demanding milk. She could not stop herself even despite the doorless doorway to her bedchamber. She counted on the darkness to keep her twisted nipple-twisting behavior secret from others.
During those times in bed when she let her imagination go wherever it wanted (and her imagination seemed so very naughty) she also recalled in detail the times she saw the beautiful Eldress wheeling the majestically nude, apparently in milk, sorceress around. Saffay saw it happen nearly every day, usually more than once.
The frame rattled and shook and the movements and bumpy surfaces made Rinnassa’s big heavy breasts sway and tremble.
It was quite a sight!
Of course, it was terribly too bad that Rinnassa was in that situation. But it was undeniable that it was truly quite a sight.
Saffay almost felt she ought to be a part of their strategy sessions, not so much because she was a keen strategist – she really wasn’t – but just so that she could keep a close eye on those big sorceress breasts. She only almost felt that way because to actually feel that way would be so inappropriate.
It was not strange that Rinnassa and Eldress Lum met and strategized. But they did it so often! At least several times a day. Afterward, they always looked out of sorts, tired. Actually, Eldress Lum looked dazed nearly all the time. Lost in thought. But then she’d sharpen up and was usually the one to tell Rinnassa they needed to go meet in private again.
None of the members of The Watch were ever invited. None of the Guardians were ever invited. But someone was. A lowly skinny young acolyte named Jun. Why was she in the strategy sessions? Was she taking notes or some such? Or serving strategy session snacks?
That was to say, only Jun was include at first. But each day another acolyte was added. It was so strange. Why did lowly acolytes get to take part in the strategy sessions? Why did they look so tired and dazed afterward? They must be working their little hearts out to provide strategy insights. Maybe they were smarter than they looked. They looked almost stupid after those sessions. They could barely string a sentence together.
Who knew why the acolytes were invited? Saffay found it odd. She wasn’t the only one. Piddrin had made a few comments to Saffay about it.
Effa often frowned at Rinnassa and Eldress Lum. Effa had even tried to strike up a friendship with the acolyte, Jun, maybe because Jun had partial Piroounian ancestry and Effa, as a full-blooded Piroounian, seemed to think she had a natural in with the young woman.
But no, she did not. Jun was politely distant and always quickly moved away from Effa’s friendly questioning. Effa was most frustrated. Perhaps Jun clued in that Effa’s true intent was to learn what was going on.
The four Guardians also seemed to think it was odd that Rinnassa and Eldress Lum had so many strategy sessions, were so secretive about them, and only invited acolyte. Saffay had caught every one of the Guardians, separately, looking hard at Eldress Lum when her back was turned. Most often when she was wheeling away the nude Rinnassa for a strategy session as Jun and other acolytes followed them like trained puppies.
The Guardians looked mystified and sometimes spoke to one another in whispers, often looking towards the Eldress or where she’d just been as they spoke. It was clear that they were discussing the strategy sessions and the lack of any invite for them to participate. Saffay did not know how the Eldress normally behaved, but it seemed as if the Guardians thought she was behaving oddly, or at least different than before.
Well, of course, the Eldress had never before had to wheel around a naked sexy sorceress trapped in a cursed wheeled wooden frame, a sorceress who had big tits and was letting down milk. At least, Saffay assumed the Eldress had never before had such a duty. What were the odds?
Saffay got to a point where she couldn’t stand waiting around at Purla’s Temple. Rinnassa would not say when she expected to have enough magical power to free the captured members of The Watch of their Chufwaask “uniforms.”
Saffay felt like doing something. She was antsy for it. To fight. To save her friends and coworkers. And most of all, shamefully, to satisfy her sexual itch.
Not with Dorrin! Hell fucking no! May the God of War fuck Dorrin up the ass with his armored cock!
Not with Dorrin. Through and past Dorrin. She would deal with Dorrin. She would be through with Dorrin. That would get her past Dorrin. What then?
Either in the alley or inside the wedding dress shoppe if there were no other workers and no customers around, Saffay would finally self-pleasure. She would do it while thinking about how she had just ended Dorrin the Assistant Merchant. She would think about that and she would not think about Dorrin dominating her in the alley that one foolish night.
Yes, Dorrin had dominated her. But surely Saffay killing Dorrin would be the far greater domination, the ultimate domination. That would turn everything around. Maybe Saffay, as she poked her gladiolus into Dorrin, would say, “Who is dominating who now, bitch?”
She could not yet fight for or save her friends and coworkers. But she could deal with Dorrin.
As she drew closer to the town square, she moved more and more slowly. She wasn’t being sneaky. She was feeling uncertain. She did not feel like she felt as much anger, as much hatred, as she should towards Dorrin. She needed to feel that to do what was necessary.
There was that uncertainty. There was also reluctance. Killing unarmed Assistant Merchants, no matter how much of a little bitch they were, was not good. Saffay liked to always be on the good side. She was a good person. She liked being good. She self-identified as good. She would not take any amount of coin to fight for evil. Or even to fight for mere bad.
As she moved through the gloam of evening darkness and slowly meandered ever closer to the wedding dress shoppe, Saffay felt something else. She felt disloyal. She felt like a traitor.
Not only to her ideals. She felt like a traitor towards Dorrin.
Dorrin was a Mistress. Dorrin thought Saffay was a slut slave. Dorrin would certainly feel very betrayed and quite shocked as the gladiolus pierced her body and her life force drained out of the new holes the gladiolus made in her.
Saffay hated to betray anyone, even if that “betrayal” was only in quotation marks and based on that person’s false assumption about her.
Saffay had to reluctantly agree that a slut slave should never kill their Mistress. They should not even disobey their Mistress, let alone kill them. In fact, a slut slave should seek always only to best please their Mistress. That should be their goal and entire focus.
For a slut slave.
Which Saffay was not.
Still, she felt like a terrible traitor. She felt so low. That lowness joined her previously acquired lowliness. Dorrin had made her feel so low! And had treated her in such a low-down manner. And Dorrin made her have those lowly shameful orgasms! That little bitch! And she’d had such a low-down wicked nasty plan for Saffay.
Goddesses! Dorrin had spoken of chaining Saffay up in the alley! And making use of her like she was a sex slave!
What would that have been like? Really terrible! Except for all the orgasms. But, besides frequent fantastic orgasms, it would have been terrible!
What about when it rained out? Would Dorrin have left her in the alley, getting pelted by rain or maybe even hail? In the nude?
Saffay pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes with dark intent.
She would go get Dorrin. She would get that little bitch!
She became eager to do it. The sooner she found Dorrin, the sooner she would be self-pleasuring over her cute little dead body.
Saffay was so eager for it that she felt her nipples harden and her pussy moisten.
