Candied Breasts and Talonberry Wine
By Matt Nicholson
Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Matt Nicholson
Smashword Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with other another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This work contains graphic language and sexual depictions with strong BDSM themes. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
“Muk Ty?”
“Yes, Muk Ty.”
“That’s it, just ‘Muk Ty’?”
“That is the name of the ceremony. Your contacts will be able to give you all the information you need with that one phrase.”
Garrytt ran a sharpening stone down the edge of his favorite dagger then looked up at the ceiling of the small, rented cabin as if hoping for divine guidance. Getting none, he looked directly at the curvaceous Alcippian warrior’s emerald green eyes for a moment before jamming the tip of the dagger into the table that separated them. “Have you lost your mind, Senderra?!”
Though her grey wolf stopped chewing on his mutton bone long enough to rumble a half-hearted growl before returning to it, Senderra Bladecharmer didn’t flinch. In fact, she didn’t even look up from polishing her golden, winged helmet. “Not at all. We don’t have any other way of getting past the Eaters in the time we have left. You have about three hours to get details about the ritual. In all the moons I have known you, you have yet to fail. Given what will likely be very enticing fringe benefits for you, I fully doubt this will be your first time.”
Garrytt glanced at the time keeper on the sooty mantle, sighed, and snatched the dagger from the table. As tempting as the fringe benefits were, he wasn’t crazy about the risks—for either of them.
“You pick a great time to rely on my skill. Why in the name of the High Caliph can’t it wait another twenty hours or so until tomorrow night? It’s not like the treasure of Nambia is going anywhere after 400 seasons, and the gods forbid I should have a little time to find a safer way to see we don’t end up as the Eaters’ main course.”
She rotated the helmet a half-turn and worked a fingernail into an engraved line, cleaning dirt and dried gore from the crevice. “The full moon is tonight, the only night they conduct rite. If you are unable to find a ‘safer way’ we will have to wait another moon.”
Garrytt slapped his forehead with dramatic flair. “Ah…full moon… Of, course. Gods know we can’t have any rituals any other day of the cycle.” He sighed again and pushed himself out of the wooden chair, scraping it loudly across the dirty floor slats.
“Well, as you said, I can’t knock the bonuses. In all this time, I’ve yet to see you naked. If it finally happens when you’re being slow roasted to a medium-rare then served over a bed of spiced white grain with candied orange root and a fine talonberry wine, so be it.”
He looked purposefully at the round contours of her breasts, hidden beneath the golden, scale armor she’d worn since he’d known her. “My bet is that they’ll taste a lot like succulent, gamish fowl. At least it won’t be me.”
As Garrytt started to walk out the door, Senderra finally looked up from her work. “I understand they carry scrotum pouches, too.”
The tall, dark rogue stopped with his hand on the door handle. “I thought you said all you knew about the Eaters was the name of the ritual that’d get us through the valley.”
Senderra set the helmet down carefully and brushed several loose strands of long, platinum hair from her face. Her smile was almost imperceptible. “I do not. If I recall most lore involving human aboriginals, they often carry pouches made from the scrotums of their male victims, so it is a logical assumption. Another likely assumption is that the Muk Ty ritual will require me to be helplessly bound while you engage in some variety of sexual acrobatics, your fingers filled with nubile female flesh—possibly even my own—in order to prove your manhood.”
She glanced at time keeper. “I estimate you now have less than three hours to get the information we need, so I suggest you get moving. When you find the Eater’s camp, look for the tall, naked Alcippian female with long white hair, alabaster flesh, and very full breasts.”
She picked the helm back up. “She will probably require a heroic rescue.” She followed his gaze down to her breasts. “I expect the marinade to be quite cold. Oh, and I’ve caught you watching me bathe several times, so I am quite sure you are familiar with how I look naked and chilled, despite your claims.”
Since she was right, and had successfully instilled images of her hard nipples dripping orange root marinade in his mind, Garrytt threw the door wide and called back as he dashed down the steps. “I’m on it!”
Chapter 2
Senderra battled long enough to kill five of them and castrate another four before she finally dropped her sword and slowly raised her hands. She estimated their numbers at over fifty, with more coming. If her wolf had been with her, the odds still would have been in her favor, but Fang would have been a liability under the circumstances, so she’d reluctantly left him behind.
The dead lay in pools of blood amidst several dozen cleaved spears and three crude, ruined nets. The Eaters were at a significantly disadvantage having to take her alive, a fact she took ruthless advantage of.
She looked around at the carnage. Besides the silent dead, the new eunuchs all moaned or wailed in agony while some of the older women came at them with bone needles and gut thread. Several younger women bit their knuckles and stared through wet eyes as their former men were subject to the crude repair. Senderra felt no pity for the women. Letting their men attack a well-armed and armored warrior while they wore only breechcloths just invited trouble.
In any case, if she hadn’t fought, they would have suspected something was amiss. So, she played them, just as she played Garrytt—though she had no doubt Garrytt knew exactly what she did, at least a fair portion of the time. She often played him with sexual teasing and innuendo. She had actually come to enjoy it.
Still looking about warily, she’d thought about castrating a couple more, but she decided five bodies and several eunuchs would be about as far as she could push them before they decided her meat wasn’t that high on the delicacy list, even as rare as firm, well-fed, white Alcippian flesh likely was.
She finally let them swarm her and take her down, warding off only the blows that flew toward her face and head. If she fought too hard, more of the Eaters would come, then still more. She was skilled, but she wasn’t that skilled. Had she been so, they wouldn’t have had to use this plan in the first place.
She and Garrytt had only just learned that the Eaters’ valley offered the only way to the Lost Treasure of Nambia, and they had very little working capital left. They couldn’t afford to wait another month to hire Avians to fly them over the valley, and they didn’t have time even if they had the gold. This was the only feasible alternative.
A half-dozen of them held her pinned to the leaf-strewn ground. She pretended to struggle as another six or so started working at her armor. They pulled the winged helm from her head, and the woman murmured in awe when her long, silky, white hair tumbled free. While two of them forced a heavy cloth gag between her teeth, others tugged her boots and gauntlets off.