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Prologue
Brogan the Informant pushed open the door of the tavern and looked in. He was early for the meeting, by half an hour and he wanted to get a good feel for the place before things got out of hand. As far as taverns went, this one was relatively busy. Over a dozen tables were positioned around a small central stage while a mix of both candles and magically powered crystals illuminated the place. A sullen looking man in dark clothing stood behind the bar, wearing a sword and oddly enough, pouring beer from one silver tankard into cheap wooden mugs. Brogan frowned. What kind of tavern needed a barman with a sword? The clientele was admittedly rough, but an armed barman? He found a small, empty table near the back, where the view of the stage wasn’t quite so good. He knew that everyone’s attention would be on the entertainment, at least when it arrived for the evening performance. He’d heard about it. Two slave girls who were evidently the sexiest things in the entire city. It made for the perfect environment since no one would be paying attention to him, or the man he was meeting.
A serving girl with the face of a horse swung by his table and he ordered a beer, mostly to look like he fit in. She brought back a tankard, again poured from the barman’s strange pewter mug, the smell of which was enough to turn his stomach. He wrinkled his nose and pushed it away, his eyes flickering through the crowd, trying to spot the operatives he knew would be there.
He found the archer first. Short, wiry, and dressed in forest garb, the archer was standing on the stairwell landing, a hooded cloak hiding their face. A compact and powerful recurve bow, but it was tucked up under the cloak. Brogan rolled his eyes. How freaking obvious. A moment’s concentration by the trained observer revealed the other members of the archer’s team. Two swordsmen, both standing at the bar, while a third burly man with a mace had plopped down on a bench near the door. After a moment, Brogan shrugged. Technically, it wasn’t his problem, presuming everyone was professional. Thoughtlessly, he took a sip of his drink, then winced as the bitter flavor swirled through his mouth.
“Yuck,” Brogan muttered, glancing down at the beer, setting the tankard back down.
A loud, raucous cheer sounded through the tavern as the entertainment arrived and Brogan twisted in his chair to see what all the commotion was about. He’d heard about the tavern. It had just reopened two weeks before under “new management” and the promise of cheap beer, even if it tasted like swill, was for some, a selling point. But what had really drawn folks, even those who could afford slightly better swill, were the girls.
Not everyone could afford a slave girl for themselves, especially amongst the clientele that this place was now serving. After only a second, he had to admit that the two females who emerged from the back room and threaded their way through the crowd were much, much more impressive than the beer. The beautiful slave girl being led forward on a leash was already bound in a complicated rope harness, her large, firm breasts tied snugly and taut, while a crisscross pattern went downward over her naked torso. A number of silver earrings dangled visibly from beneath the wealth of dark brown curls and these matched the hoops through both nipples, not to mention the dangling bit of sparkle at her navel. Her cute little feet sported the most intriguing sandals, with a spiked heel that tightened her calves and buttocks amazingly. Her toes, all of which were visible, were adorned with half a dozen rings and from the way her slit was glistening wetly, Brogan suspected that most of the little trinkets she was wearing had intense magical effects on her arousal.
Which was good, because the woman with her looked like she meant business. Tall, thin, and leather clad, the dominatrix accompanying the nearly naked slave girl waltzed out with a short whip casually draped over her shoulders. Brogan actually straightened with interest. Afterall, it wasn't often that humans encountered one of the dark elves. White hair fell in a straight sheet from her head and she was sporting a skin tight catsuit that looked like it had practically been painted on her body. Hell, Brogan could see the woman’s nipples, which were obviously pierced. A plunging slit starting at the collar fell in a sharp V shape all the way down to the dominatrix’s crotch and there was a quick glimmer of silver along with pink, making Brogan lick his lips, wondering about that slit. Her impressive bust was barely being held in place. Her wrists both sported black manacles, lined with gold and a black choker encircled her neck, almost looking like the collar on the slave girl. High heeled boots finished the ensemble. Brogan casually reached down and adjusted the growing hard on in his pants.
The slave girl climbed up onto the stage and obediently lifted her arms. A tattoo the size and shape of a flower decorated her right bicep and Brogan spotted another, more intricate and fascinating design etched into the small of her back, almost on her bottom. The chain hanging from the ceiling was practically the right height, but she still had to raise up on tiptoe as the dominatrix quickly secured the slave girl’s wrists above her head. It stretched her out nicely and Brogan began to wish he’d arrived a bit earlier to get a better view. The table he’d found wasn’t quite in the right spot. He frowned as the enthusiastic crowd leaned in, making it harder to see. There was a cheer and then he heard the faint hiss of the whip followed by the sharp cry of the slave girl.
Brogan let out a muttered curse and looked at his beer sullenly as the crowd encouraged the dominatrix, shouting out suggestions. The poor slave girl’s bottom was definitely getting a thorough scouring, but equally often, her bound breasts jiggled as the whip struck again and again. At one point the imposing dominatrix made the girl lift one foot, asking a bystander to hold it upright so that the whip could properly target the brunette girl’s sex. Brogan was about to see about moving to a better vantage point when a man sat down at the table with him, his back to the stage show.
“Hello Brogan,” Bob the Mage said politely, putting his hands on the table and folding his fingers. “How’s the information business?” Behind him, the crack of the whip striking soft flesh, followed by an agonized, but ecstatic cry, punctuated the greeting.
Brogan jumped, just a bit startled. He hadn’t even seen the mage come into the tavern and he wondered if the archer or his fellows had been just as distracted as he’d been. Brogan smiled, trying to act natural. He looked across the table. Bob was in his mid-forties and his short hair was starting to gray. In fact, much of his well-trimmed beard was salt and pepper and he had little lines forming at the corners of his eyes. Still, he was fit and Brogan could see the shape of leather armor under the gray wizard robes.
“Bob,” Brogan said with a nod. “I didn’t see you come in.”
Bob grinned and shrugged. “Distractions can be problematic,” Bob replied. “What do you have for me?”
Brogan let out a laugh. “Distractions. Yeah. Right.” He eyed the display going on behind Bob as the slave girl yelped, dancing with pain and arousal etched on her face as the dominatrix continued to whip her sweet little naked body, aiming for all the delicate spots. “Have you seen anything like that before?” Brogan asked, gesturing, a jealous look on his face.
Bob turned for a second, looked over his shoulder, and then gave Brogan a rueful look. “All too often,” he said somewhat sourly. “But time is valuable. I’m paying for information, not for a review of the dancing girls. What do you have?”
Brogan tore his eyes off the writhing slave girl and looked back at Bob. “You call that dancing?” Bob grinned and Brogan’s eyes narrowed. “Money?”
Bob nodded and a small bag appeared. It slid across the table and Brogan grabbed it, then opened it to look inside. “Damn, I’d like an account at your bank,” he muttered. Bob shrugged.
“This is important,” he said. “Make that worthwhile or I’ll take it back.”
Brogan snorted. “Like hell you will.” But then Brogan sighed. “I did get what you asked for.” Bob tapped his fingers, waiting. Brogan pushed his beer mug away. “You were right. Barty’s contact was a dwarf named Renskein. Nasty little bugger too, from what I understand. He’s part of the Red Mountain Clan, outside the Westerning Hills.”
Bob frowned. “The Red Mountain Dwarves?” Bob stroked his beard. “They have a somewhat unsavory reputation. I’ve encountered their work before. I presume he was acting on orders? Alverand?”
Brogan nodded. “Supposedly. Seems Thane Alverand has his eyes set on acquiring some new resources. Plenty of Red Mountain Dwarves are here in Argillie, though supposedly it's for trade. I hear they’re in the market for human slave girls.”
Bob shrugged. “Everyone’s in that market, Brogan. The dark elves, the high elves, the hill dwarves. Why would the Red Mountain Clan be any different. But that’s not the information I’m paying for. Tell me about Renskein.”
Brogan frowned. “It’s background, Bob. The point I’m trying to make is that there’s a lot of activity. Renskein is just one of several agents working for Thane Alverand. I’m told that Renskein’s goal was to acquire a weapon that would be an equalizer. Something to negate magic. If that's possible.”
Bob sat back looking thoughtful and Brogan’s eyes flickered back over to the stage. The slave girl was still getting whipped, mostly across the bust, butt, and sex, but it almost seemed like she was as turned on by the dominatrix’ cruelty as everyone watching. From the sounds she was making, she must have been close to orgasm.
“The question then,” Bob said, almost to himself, “is if they got the design.”
Brogan blinked. “Oh. They do. Sorry. I guess I should have said that.”
Bob’s eyebrow went up and he leaned forward. “Wait. You know what they have?”
Brogan nodded. “Some sort of magic cannon.”
Bob looked suspicious. “Then why did you say they were looking for something that ‘negates’ magic? Barty’s design uses it.”
“Negates, as in ‘the advantage’,” Brogan explained. “If your enemy has mages that can blow up large stone structures, the way to negate that is to have a device that also blows up large stone structures.”
“They have a working model?” Bob asked. “Designs?”
Brogan picked up his beer mug. “Well, if you’re talking about drawings, I’m not sure. What I do know is that they have a prototype.” He took a sip and then winced. “That is truly bad beer.”
“The dwarves have a working version?” Bob said with immediate concern.
Brogan shook his head. “I heard there were problems with it. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Like during one test it blew out half a cavern, while in another it fizzled. So I’m not sure if I’d call that working.”
Bob digested the information. “That’s disturbing as hell,” he muttered.
Brogan looked over at Bob. “How bad is this weapon?” He asked.”If they get it working?”
Bob bit his lip. “Well, the original could have knocked down city walls.”
Brogan looked shocked. “City walls? Like here? In Argillie?”
Bob waved a hand. “Tarantella, Argillie, name your city. Barty got accidentally killed by a Lich before he had a chance to put all the pieces together.”
Brogan’s eyebrows went up. “Accidentally?” He asked. “That’s not quite what I heard.” He eyed Bob with a grin. “Didn’t you end up with Bartholemew’s slave girl? Maddie? I heard you were starting your own harem.”
Bob gave Brogan a non-committal look. “Hearsay and rumors, Brogan.”
Brogan rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, what are you going to do about Alverand?”
Bob smiled. “There are always consequences, Brogan. But it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Brogan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Um… well, consequences do worry me.” He bit his lip, making a decision. “I’ve got a freebie for you.”
Bob’s eyebrow went up. “A freebie? You?” Bob looked suspicious. “Are you feeling alright? It’s the beer, isn’t it? It has you rethinking your life’s priorities.”
Brogan scowled. “Well, the beer is terrible,” he agreed, glancing over at the dominatrix who was still busy tormenting the panting, mewling slave girl. The thick handle of the whip suddenly got reversed and pushed in deep, eliciting a rather dramatic cry of pleasure as it slid into the beautiful brunette’s sex. “Bob, did you know that the dark elves have put a bounty on your head? One that makes the money offered by Eriand Diristani or the Sithiss Clan look like chump change?”
Bob’s eyes narrowed. “The bounty being offered by Diristani has been rescinded. As for the dark elves wanting my head, I was aware of it. I just didn’t think it was common knowledge yet.”
Brogan shrugged. “Well, a few people know about it. In fact, a group of bounty hunters contacted me asking for information leading to your whereabouts.” Brogan smiled. “The general idea was to kill you, take your head to the dark elves, your feet to the lizardmen, and your body to Diristani.” He held out his hands. “That’s a lot of bounty money for one person. Sort of like running a special. You should at least try to get them all to want the same part.”
Bob sighed and rolled his eyes. “I hope you got paid up front,” he retorted.
Brogan looked hurt. “Of course I did. And I asked for double, so it’s like getting paid in full. And Bob, I hope you understand. It’s just business. I’m telling you because I figure you can do your thing and get out of it.” He winced. “And it sounds like you might have something important to do.”
“Before the Red Mountain Clan invades Argillie? Having regrets now?” Bob sneered.
“My stuff is here,” Brogan said, dropping a copper coin on the table for the beer. “Like you said. Consequences. Right after I stand up, the archer on the stairwell landing is going to put an arrow in your back. Then the three brigands near the bar are going to come and chop you into pieces. So I will leave you to it.” Brogan made to stand up, but Bob shook his head.
“Nah. I don’t think so.” His eyes flickered up to Brogan’s face and he grinned.
Brogan didn’t hear the sound of the arrow zipping over his head, so much as felt it. The crowd was cheering on the Dominatrix as the slave girl squirmed and squealed and started to orgasm, her sex filled with the thick handle of the whip. The information broker flinched as the archer on the landing suddenly crumpled, falling over, an arrow sticking out of his left eye socket.
Shocked, Brogan twisted and looked over his shoulder. There, in the corner, was a short elf girl with braided blonde hair, tucking away a tiny bow. She flicked her cloak over her head and disappeared back into the shadows. No one in the crowd had even noticed the shot, their attention on the slave girl in the midst of her climax. The brunette girl’s hips were jerking violently and she was actually squirting as she screamed in pleasure. “You knew?” Brogan accused, his eyes flickering to the three other men. “Uh oh. The others. They saw. Two swordsmen and a guy with a mace. Here they come!”
Bob sat there and did nothing. In fact, he didn’t even move.
“Bob!” Brogan hissed.
As the first fighter shoved his way through the crowd, the dominatrix tormenting the slave girl whirled, yanking the makeshift dildo out of the quivering, cumming slave girl. With a dramatic swing, the end of the whip coiled around the swordsman’s neck and with a sharp pull, the dominatrix yanked him completely off his feet. The healing enchantment on the weapon, which had kept the slave girl from sporting more than a few light red lines, was ineffectual as the dominatrix pulled hard, breaking the swordsman’s neck. He fell, his head canted at a strange, unnatural angle. But that certainly got the crowd's attention. Half the audience jumped up in alarm, several of them shouting, which slowed the second fighter and the burly man with the mace. The dominatrix let out a tiny shout and raised her hand. Blue black fire coalesced out of thin air and she flicked it at the second swordsman. He turned his shoulder and the magic exploded on his warded cloak. But that just made him susceptible to the next arrow that zipped across the tavern. It too found an eye socket and the fighter dropped like a rock, a short arrow buried in his brain.
The burly man with the mace slowed. He looked at his fallen comrades and without another word, turned and fled. The dominatrix snarled something, but lowered her hands as she no longer had a clear line of fire for her magic. Brogan watched as the quiet barman slid out from behind the counter, the naked long sword in hand. Without a word the barman stepped in front of the burly man, knocked the mace aside, and casually ran him through. The mace fell to the floor as he crumpled and the barman pulled the sword free. Brogan gaped as the crowd fled the tavern, casting worried glances backward. It didn’t matter that the slave girl was still bound on the stage, her pussy dripping from a fresh orgasm. They just wanted to escape the violence. Bob sat at the table and reached across to Brogan’s beer as the place emptied. He picked up the mug and took a sip, only to grimace.
“Ugh. How can anyone drink that? That is absolutely the worst beer I’ve ever tasted,” the mage commented.
Brogan sat there aghast as the barman walked to the entrance and shut the door, barring it. At the stage, the dominatrix turned and calmly helped the slave girl down, releasing her wrists from the overhead chain. The slave girl swayed for a moment, her skin glistening as she caught her breath. Then she quickly hurried over to Bob. She slid into his lap, a worried expression on her face as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Bob? Are you okay?” The slave girl whispered, her eyes filled with concern. “Did anyone hurt you?” She ran her hands over Bob’s head and chest, checking for injuries.
“Talli,” Bob said heatedly. “I’m fine. You’re getting cum on my pants. Couldn’t you at least clean up first?”
Talli kissed him passionately and Brogan was surprised at the way Bob leaned into it.
The dominatrix walked over, a haughty look on her face. “That,” she hissed angrily, “was embarrassing.”
Bob broke off the kiss and looked up at her. “Helenae, not everyone is up to your standards.”
She sneered. “Are all humans as weak and pathetic as the ones in this town?” She snorted. “The barmaid ran.”
Brogan blinked. “Wow,” he said, seriously impressed. “She’s a mage?”
But then the regular elf girl with the bow appeared, standing opposite the dominatrix. Her dark green cloak opened slightly and Brogan realized that she was wearing only a gauzy skirt and bodice, leaving her midriff bare. Even better, the top and bottom were see-thru. Brogan could see everything. She too sported piercings like the slave girl in Bob’s lap, except in silver, and from the wet mess between her legs and the glistening fingers of her left hand, he wondered if she’d exploded before or after her killing shots.
“Next time,” the little elf girl said heatedly. “I get to be the entertainment,” she insisted angrily, looking at Bob.
Helenae gave the elf girl a withering look. “You already got to cum,” the dark elf sneered. “It’s all over your fingers.”
“Calien,” Bob said with a sigh. “We went over this. I needed your archery skills. You swinging from a rope while Helenae wrings orgasms out of you with that whip wasn’t going to be helpful. That’s why Talli got to be the entertainment.”
The barman walked up. In one hand he held a silver tankard and was casually sipping it. His long blade was now sheathed at his side. He stared down at Bob and Brogan, but didn’t say a word.
Brogan looked at Bob. “The girls and the barman?”
Bob shrugged. “Preparation is important when you’re dealing with perfidy,” Bob said casually. He pushed the mug of beer toward the barman. “This is absolutely disgusting beer, Morlok.”
The barman picked up Brogan’s mug, drained it, and wandered off, taking the container with him.
Talli gave Brogan a very direct stare. “So, is Brogan a prisoner then? Is he part of the plot to kill you for the bounty?” She asked Bob. “Because if he is, we need to kill him.” Before Bob could even answer, she looked over at Brogan. “Are you trying to kill Bob?” She asked politely. “Because if you are, I’ll rip out your gizzard.” She paused. “Right after I fuck you stupid.”
Brogan stiffened. It was the tone she used. Brogan, for a second, actually felt a twinge of fear, which seemed odd coming from a five foot two naked girl leaking copious amounts of vaginal fluid onto Bob’s leg. She just looked so… intense. Brogan shook his head vehemently.
“I… I don’t have a gizzard. And I was not trying to kill Bob,” Brogan replied, twisting the truth just a little. “I became aware of a plot to kill him and warned him.”
Talli blinked. “We knew about those guys weeks ago,” she scoffed, jerking a thumb backward over her shoulder. “That’s why we rented the tavern. We just had to set things up.”
“That and so you could dangle cumming in front of strangers three times a day,” Calien sniffed with jealousy and looked away.
Brogan shook his head and looked back at Bob. “You used me.”
Bob shrugged. “Let’s just say that I knew you would be you, Brogan.”
Brogan glanced at Helenae, Calien, and then Talli. “Are all three of these girls your slaves?” He asked in wonder.
Bob blinked for a second, but it was Talli who answered, laughing. “Hardly. He is ours.”
“What?” Brogan asked in confusion.
Helenae suddenly leaned over put her hand on Brogan’s head. She ran her fingers through Brogan’s hair, then put her mouth at his ear. “Are you jealous of him? Do you wish you could lie with me, human scum? Do you know what I will do to you? I will tie you spread-eagled and then use my hands and mouth to wring an orgasm from your cock. And then another, and another, over and over, milking your balls until your shaft is so abraded and sore that the mere touch of my tongue makes you scream. And then I will make you cum again. It will be excruciating.”
Brogan swallowed, not sure whether the thought of that scared him or excited him. “Um… well…uh…,” he hawed, glancing at the mage in alarm. “Bob. I appreciate your business, as always. But I think it’s time for me to leave you to your entertainment and…”
Suddenly, the dominatrix’s hand was on Brogan’s shoulder, pushing him back downward. “No. The warning you gave came too late. You sold Bob out,” she whispered. “For that, you deserve punishment.” Her finger began swirling against Brogan’s neck. “Extreme punishment.” Her other hand touched his chest, then slid downward. Way downward.
“I… I… I warned him!” Brogan stammered as the dark elf woman’s fingers seemed hot against his crotch.
Calien suddenly moved to Brogan’s other side, looking down at him with burning eyes. “And for that, you deserve a reward.” She leaned down and Brogan jerked as he felt something wet on his ear. Then in it. Brogan jerked, not sure of what was happening. Did the little elf girl just stick her tongue in his ear?
Talli slid off Bob’s lap and the mage glanced down at the wet smear on his trouser leg in exasperation. She walked around the small table. “What was it you wanted to do to him, Helenae? Make him cum over and over until his cock is too sore to stay hard? I saw we drag him over to the stage,” she said darkly. “And make him pay for even thinking about betraying our Master.” She reached down and grabbed Brogan’s wrist as the elf girl’s fingers began unlacing Brogan’s shirt.
“Bob!” Brogan blurted out, eyes a little wild.
The mage stood up with a somber expression on his face. “It seems that the girls are somewhat offended by your willingness to sell me out, Brogan. But don’t worry. Unlike those bounty hunters, you’ll survive the experience. Still, I feel somewhat sorry for you. And I hope that having a sore cock for a week or two won’t sour any future business dealings we might have.” The mage turned away. “Have fun.”
“BOB!” Brogan yelled, only for Talli to suddenly push her still bound breast into his mouth, muffling him.
The girls dragged the information broker out of his chair and over to the stage, already tearing the poor man’s clothes off.
“Bob! I didn’t mean it! Bob! Tell them! I didn’t…” Then Brogan’s voice was cut off as something wet, soft, and exquisitely feminine came down, right over his face.
Bob hummed with satisfaction. “What did I say, Brogan? There are always consequences. Enjoy yours. For as long as you can.”