Saffay was ready to climb a wall. Literally. She felt like climbing one of the tall walls of the temple compound. Cooped up in a temple fortress! For a week! Or two! Maybe three!
All while most of her friends and coworkers in The Watch were getting used like sex slaves. Probably nonstop sexual use and abuse for them while Saffay experienced nonstop boredom.
All her poor buddies. Having all that sex. All those orgasms….
It was beyond frustrating. The evil bad guys thought they’d won. All the nasty evil bastards and bitches were enjoying the fruits of their evil deeds. The citizens of Ethecreeth were getting used to immorality. Enjoying it!
Cumming inside her friends!
Saffay knew her frustration was not only due to concern for her friends. That might not even be the main source of frustration.
Saffay did not feel like herself. She was normally confidently relaxed. She was almost always focused on the business of being a protector of Ethecreeth. People counted on her, and she was constantly quietly determined to never let them down.
She’d carefully constructed her reputation as Saffay “the Untouchable.” She did it in order to focus on being the best she could be in The Watch. Being a member of The Watch was an incredible opportunity. Few females did well for themselves independently in the lands of Phellassia.
Saffay had not wanted any romantic complications. She guessed she still did not have a “romantic” complication. What happened with Dorrin was hardly romantic! Just the opposite! But it was a complication. An even bigger one than one that was simply romantic. People understood romance. They might be jealous or question your choice of partner, but overall, they understood it.
But getting down and dirty and dominated in a public alley? By another female? A mere Assistant Merchant?
There was not so much understanding for something like that. Not at all. Who would understand that? Read by the light of Swenge’s golden ass! No one would understand it! Saffay did not understand it!
So, how could she expect anyone else to understand it when she herself could not? Mostly, she very badly did not anyone else to need to understand it. Saffay was willing to pray to any or all of the Gods and Goddesses if it would prevent her encounter in the dark alley from coming to light.
Saffay had always wanted to build up her reputation as being reliable and both even-minded and fair-minded. She had never wanted to lose her mind in an alley!
She had a good reputation. She knew it. People respected her. Her partner in The Watch, Piddrin, often stated that she was grateful to have Saffay as a partner. Everyone treated Saffay with respect.
Well, it used to be everyone. Dorrin had not treated her with respect. The very opposite!
Saffay still wanted to have a good reputation. No, an excellent one. But now, Dorrin knew what Saffay had done, or what Saffay had allowed to be done to herself.
Dorrin knew exactly who she was. It wasn’t like they were two strangers or like Saffay had worn a mask. Previous to that encounter, Saffay has known Dorrin as an unassuming and quite average-seeming Assistant Merchant. Dorrin had known Saffay as a Warrioress of The Watch.
If they put the threat of Sliphera the Witch and all the rest of this behind them, would Dorrin keep her mouth shut? During the sexual encounter in the alley, Dorrin had believed Saffay wore one of the “uniforms” that made afflicted members of The Watch into total sluts. That was Saffay’s out as far as how Dorrin looked at her. Dorrin would probably hope and pray Saffay forgot or forgave the encounter once the threat of Sliphera and her minions and allies was dealt with.
But what if Dorrin talked and told the tale of how she took advantage of Saffay in her “uniformed” state? If that got around, people might start pointing out, “What uniform? Saffay never wore one of the infected uniforms!”
Then, just like that, the truth would be apparent. Dorrin dominated Saffay without Saffay being under any magical influence. It was still so embarrassing to recognize that fact just to herself, let alone if anyone else ever found that out. Including Dorrin!
In the alley, to Dorrin, Saffay was just a sexy body with a vulnerable mind. But Dorrin had thought Saffay was “uniformed.” Dorrin had thought Saffay could not resist her.
Dorrin had to have thought resistance wasn’t even possible. That must be why Dorrin was so confident and dominant in the alley. She had no fear of refusal or consequences. She’d known – she’d thought she’d known – that Saffay would not poke her repeatedly with a wide sharp blade.
Dorrin must have thought very little of Saffay. She’d thought Saffay was just a sex slave with no will. Dorrin had always treated Saffay with quiet respect before so many members of The Watch were “uniformed.” But the seeming change in Saffay’s status brought an equal change in Dorrin’s demeanor towards Saffay.
Oh, how little that little Dorrin had thought of her to belittle her in such terrible ways!
But Dorrin could end thinking even less of her. Dorrin would eventually discover that Saffay was never a sex slave and had had free will and yet had still let Dorrin treat her like a sex slave.
Dorrin could think a lot less of Saffay.
Saffay wondered what her Mistress—
What would Dorrin… that fucking little bitch!… think if she found out she’d dominated a completely uninfected Saffay?
She would think a lot less of Saffay the “Untouchable!”
She might think she could dominate Saffay again! She might think she could make it a regular thing. She might think that she really was Saffay’s Mistress.
Which she wasn’t! At all! She wasn’t!
Dorrin might open her big mouth… which was actually pretty small and… pretty pretty… but, anyway, Dorrin might insist on being Saffay’s Mistress. Dorrin might try to threaten Saffay that she’d open her big… little… pretty… mouth and tell people how very touchable Saffay the Untouchable truly was.
Or maybe worse, Dorrin might not even threaten to do it and might just go ahead and start talking. People loved to brag. Maybe not usually about sexual domination, but Saffay didn’t really know Dorrin. She didn’t. All Saffay really knew about Dorrin was that she was an Assistant Merchant and into sexually dominating other women, or at least Saffay.
And she had pretty little lips….
And she had a tasty pussy….
Saffay shook her head hard, hoping it would shake away such thoughts, like droplets from hair after emerging from a river submerge.
Saffay’s carefully constructed and built up and earned reputation would be dashed if Dorrin told people what she did to Saffay, what she got away with doing, and with how Saffay took to such treatment.
Saffay struggled with what she should do.
Hope for the best? Wait and see?
Kill Dorrin….
Killing Dorrin didn’t seem right. Yes, Dorrin was a mean little dominant bitch… with a pretty little mouth… and a tasty pussy. But being mean was just her nature. As it turned out. It didn’t seem like killing her was appropriate. The punishment did not fit the crime.
Technically, there was no crime at all. One way or another, Saffay had submitted willingly. Even what was happening to the captured members of The Watch wasn’t a crime. Kutherkut, the Town Headsman, had proclaimed them sex slaves open for use by any and all. That made it legal. Technically. Immoral, but legal.
Was it Dorrin’s fault that Saffay submitted to her?
No, it must be Saffay’s fault. So, how could she kill someone else when the blame was on herself?
Besides that…
…well…
…Saffay was pretty sure that sex slaves were not supposed to kill their Mistresses.
!
Fuck Swenge until she no longer glowed! Fuck that Goddess until she no longer flickered with flame! May Swenge’s flaming body drown forever at the bottom of the deepest ocean!
Saffay did not like the way her mind worked since her encounter with Dorrin in the alley. It worked in a way she did not want it to work. Sometimes she felt lucky that she’d made it away at all and had not remained in place for Dorrin to return and chain her up in the alley.
Saffay would like to say she could not imagine such a fate. But the thing was, she kept imagining it. At night when she should be sleeping. During the day on guard duty when she should be attentive to guarding.
The fate was so awful! And so… possible! Which made it all the more awful.
So why did thinking about it make her feel like touching her pussy?
Why did thinking about it make her so wet?
It was… it was the sex, right? She had avoided sex for quite a while. She had wanted to establish her career and her reputation. Which she had. But then avoiding sex became sort of a habit.
Dorrin had broken that habit.
Those orgasms were so powerful! Her stupid body was just dumb and wanted more orgasms like that. It didn’t do any kind of cost assessment. The body wanted what the body wanted. The body experienced the orgasms and classified them under the Good / Get More of Same category without caring how those orgasms came to be or what risk they involved.
Saffay had to rely on her mind. Not her urgently urging body.
But her body was making her mind think about the orgasms and was making her want more orgasms. Dorrin was on her mind. In her mind. Fucking around in her mind after fucking her body.
When she relied on her mind, she needed to rely on her wisdom, not whatever kept popping into her head.
She was wise. She was! She thought she had to be at least a fourteen on the three to eighteen scale. She could have been a fifteen if she was a Gnome!
But, if she was a Gnome, Mistress Dorrin would not have wanted to dominate her….
Maybe she would not have. Who knew? Maybe Mistress Dorrin would like to dominate a gnome. Mistress Dorrin was kinky!
And sexy….
Really, her kinkiness was what made her so sexy. Saffay had not noted Dorrin as being all that good-looking previous to their encounter in the alley. But now? Knowing that Dorrin was so kinky and was a Mistress? It made Saffay’s respect burst forth like a glowing spring. A hot miniature spring. One that flowed between her upper thighs.
What should Saffay do? Ignore the situation? Kill her Mistress? Uh, the person who thought she was Saffay’s Mistress?
Boy, would it be easy. As in, it would be so easy to kill Dorrin. As far as function and action. Saffay could leave the Temple of Purla compound whenever she wanted. She could go back to the town square. She could walk right into the wedding dress shoppe. She would spot Dorrin or ask for her.
Then, when Dorrin was in front of her? Saffay would draw her gladius and poke poke poke, those pretty lips would never say an ugly word about Saffay.
But also, those pretty lips wouldn’t talk so devastatingly dirty to Saffay. And those pretty lips wouldn’t kiss… anyone. And those pretty lips would not part to allow a little tongue to extend and perhaps lick… someone’s… pussy.
Maybe going into the wedding dress shoppe was not the best way. There could be others in the shoppe or nearby looking through the front window. There probably would be. And when Saffay poked people with her gladius, poked to kill, they often made very loud attention-getting sounds. There would be no surrounding din of battle to snuff out the sound of Dorrin’s life snuffing out.
Maybe Saffay should watch the shoppe, and then, when she saw Dorrin entering or leaving, fire a bolt from her heavy crossbow. That way, if or when Dorrin made a death cry, no one would know who caused it.
Saffay would have to keep the crossbow under a blanket or some such. Perhaps under a cloak laid over her arm.
She’d have to wait around to do the deed. Maybe she would wait at the tables where other “uniformed” members of The Watch were getting “tabled?”
Swenge spurn it!
It would not work. She’d be seen and assumed to be under the influence of a new uniform. She would get tabled! They would make free use of her suddenly un-free self!
Besides, who could hit a target with a crossbow bolt while on a table getting fucked by two or three citizens at once? It just would not work!
No, she should stay out of the shoppe and stay out of the town square.
Which meant… dare she think it? She’d have to wait in the alley for Dorrin to come out the side door with trash.
Instead of the guilty returning to the scene of the crime, it would be the victim (herself) returning to the scene of the submission. No, wait, of the domination. Dorrin had dominated her more than she’d submitted to Dorrin.
…
She guessed they were probably equal. They probably had to be equal. The greater the domination the more the submission.
She really did not want to go back to that alley.
That damn alley. She’d never felt about any location or locale the way she felt about that alley. It felt like what happened in the alley was the alley’s fault. Well, she did not want it to be her own fault and she couldn’t seem to blame Dorrin for being the way she was. Some people were evil. They could not help it.
Maybe Dorrin was evil. Saffay wasn’t sure. But Dorrin was what she was.
Dorrin has acted the way she was. Saffay had not acted at all like herself.
It must be the alley’s fault! Bad alley! Evil alley!
Thinking about returning to the alley felt like thinking about walking into the cave of a hungry Death Maw. Who would do that? No one! Only a fool!
The Death Maws made their own caves, dug them out, then backed into them, opening their jaw fully, the circumference of their jaws just a little less than the cave. Walking into the cave of a Death Maw was just plain walking into the giant jaws of the Death Maw.
Only a fool would ever knowingly go into a Death Maw’s cave / jaws.
Hey, wait! Maybe she should bring Dorrin to a Death Maw! Just wave her to go on it, saying, “By all means, after you, Mistress Dorrin.”
Swenge’s glowing shits! It wouldn’t work. Mistress Dorrin would probably dominate her on the way to the cave. If Saffay refused, Dorrin would not accompany her. If Saffay allowed herself to be dominated, they’d get sidetracked and probably would never make it to the Death Maw.
On the way, Saffay would have to call her Mistress Dorrin. And maybe Mistress Dorrin would command her to go into the cave first. She might be suspicious. And then what?
Fuck Swenge’s smoking ear! What if Mistress Dorrin ordered, “No, no, you go in first you filthy stupid slut.” And what if Saffay was feeling so submissive that she could not help herself and had to obey and walked right into the jaws of the Death Maw?
She’d be eaten up.
That was a no to the Death Maw plan!
Even going back into that damn alley was better than going into a Death Maw.
If she did lay in wait for Dorrin in the alley, then in theory, it would be easy to dispatch the Dorrin problem.
Dorrin would eventually come through the door to the alley from the shoppe, likely holding a bag of trash, and then Saffay could poke poke poke her. She’d even have time to wipe the blood off the gladius and onto whatever Dorrin wore. And then she would flee.
It was simple. The best plans were simple. That would work.
But just thinking about the alley….
It made her feel like a sex slave really should not murder her Mistress.
A sex slave also should not plot against her Mistress. That just was not right. Especially plotting to kill the Mistress!
Of course, Saffay was no sex slave. Not even close! She was a brave warrior woman. But Mistress… Dorrin… no doubt thought Saffay was a sex slave and would do anything Dorrin told her to do. Saffay’s Mistress… the little rascal of a bitch who thought she was Saffay’s Mistress… would be ever so disappointed if Saffay repeatedly stuck a sharp gladius into her.
Saffay would hate to see her Mistress’s eyes fill with dark lust and nasty intent when she first saw Saffay in the alley, and then empty of lust and fill with disappointment in “her sex slave” as her body emptied of blood.
Saffay just could not do that to her… to the Mistress.
Saffay would have to keep thinking. Perhaps Dorrin would fall ill and die a natural death. Disease was ever so common. It seemed inversely proportional to rarity of hygiene in the lands of Phellassia.
Perhaps someone would force Dorrin into one of the cursed uniforms, not caring that Dorrin was not a member of The Watch. Why wouldn’t they? Dorrin was so sexy. And the townsfolk sure were enjoying the members of The Watch who were enslaved by the uniforms! Why wouldn’t they want more sex slaves? There were plenty of picnic tables in the town square to “table” them on.
Dorrin, as it turned out, was such a terrible bitch. She’d treated Saffay with such incredible disrespect! She’d taken advantage of Saffay, thinking Saffay was defenseless due to getting “uniformed.” That was evil! The stuff of evil!
It was Dorrin who deserved to be enslaved and used by whoever, anyone and everyone. Not the current victims, the members of The Watch.
And not… anyone else.
Dorrin should be enslaved.
…
But would Dorrin be as sexy as a sex slave? She wouldn’t be. It was the domination that made her so sexy. Dorrin was not sexy before she did her domination thing with Saffay. It was the dominating that made Dorrin sexy. Dorrin could not dominate… anyone… if she was a sex slave. Quite the reverse.
No. No way. Dorrin should not be enslaved. That was so wrong! All wrong! Dorrin had a skill. Domination. She did it so well! That skill should not be wasted.
Domination was just as much of a skill as fire making or animal husbandry. In fact, it seemed a bit similar to both of those skills….
Dorrin had lit such a hot fire in Saffay.
Dorrin had treated Saffay like an animal and Saffay had lost herself to animal lust.
Domination was a skill. All skills had worth and needed to be preserved. They had their place in the world.
Dorrin should enslave others.
Others like… well, if they looked a lot like… Saffay… and were into that kind of thing… which Saffay was not!
Usually.
Or ever before.
She had never been into that kind of thing before she went into that alley….
Was it the alley’s fault? Was it a cursed alley? No. Who would curse an alley to cause warrioresses to submit to lesbian domination? It was too specific. No one could have known she was going to be there.
It wasn’t the alley’s fault. It wasn’t Dorrin’s fault, either. Dorrin was a Mistress and that just happened sometimes to some people. Saffay guessed it did.
It must be Saffay’s own fault. She did not know why she had responded how she had. She must have been off or something. Just not herself.
But also… after getting into it in the alley, it had gotten into her head. That was the other reason it couldn’t be the alley’s fault. She was still afflicted outside of the alley.
Memory of what happened, the things Dorrin said, of what Dorrin did to her, and the way Saffay had felt, kept bouncing around in Saffay’s head. Springing up. She was in a constant state of “just not herself.”
Unless this was the real her.
Thoughts of Dorrin, of the events in the alley, and of what might have happened had she failed to retreat from the alley in time hadn’t reduced over the past few days. Saffay wished they had. She had thought they would.
Instead, those thoughts were growing stronger. Those thoughts were both the memories of what had actually happened and the imagining of other possibilities, like what else Dorrin might want to do to her, or what others would do to her if Dorrin had chained her up in the alley and then other people found Saffay chained up in the nude in that damned alley.
It was almost like Saffay was one of those who were addicted to sniffing the fragrance of the dreaded and desired Snifferdell flowers. To the addicted, getting the next Snifferdell flower to sniff as much as they desired, even just getting the next huffing sniff of someone else’s flower, became their entire focus, all that was important to them. Friends and family meant little or nothing to them.
Those flowers were a curse on the world! The Gods and Goddesses never should have allowed them life! They were so powerful and accursed. Perhaps one of the Gods or Goddesses used power to intentionally create it. But whether one did or did not, surely one among the thirty-three Gods and Goddesses (the known and properly documented Gods and Goddesses) should have taken action. They should have snuffed out the Snifferdells and ended the insipid corrupting snuffling of them!
It felt like Dorrin was Saffay’s Snifferdell flower. Perhaps Dorrin’s lady flower was. It felt like an instant addiction, the same way just one or two sniffs of a Snifferdell set the unfortunate sniffer, more often than not, on a one-way journey of lifetime addiction.
Those who could not afford to pay Snifferdell dealers to bring them a flower every few days – their scent lasted two to four days once they were perfectly ripe – almost inevitably ended up wandering into the woods looking for them. Sometimes the looker found them. More often, the looker was found by Krellings or other predator beasts, intelligent or not. And that was it for them.
If they were not murdered by Krellings or eaten by beasts, they kept searching until they starved to death.
Saffay, like anyone with common sense, had always avoided Snifferdell flowers. But then she had ended up with her face in Dorrin’s lady flower.
Saffay knew what to do when you were exposed to something toxic or poisonous or bad for you. Limit the exposure as much as possible. She would do that. She would keep clear of Dorrin.
Until it was time to kill her. If Saffay decided that was what she had to do.
