The Duchess of Lust Ch. 03

The chief marched over towards the fire, and stuck the bloody tip of the sword into the blue flames.

Neryth's breath caught as the great blue fire suddenly vanished, disappearing into a puff of mist and sparks. Her heart pounded, for she wasn't sure if such a result was good or bad...

Rathgar nodded and raised her sword high, and the warriors cheered.

"Our gods have spoken!" he bellowed. "Duke Lucan's champion has given a worthy battle as an offering to our gods."

He marched back to her and set the sword in her lap.

"Well fought, captain. But honor demands that we give the same opportunity to Garnoc. I shall send a messenger to him at once, telling him to send a champion if he wishes to fight for the chance to keep us as his mercenaries."

"No way around that?" she asked weakly.

Suddenly the flames ignited again, the fire turning a dark red, almost purple. Many of the savages gasped with alarm or shock. Some fell to their knees, offering prayers. Rathgar's eyes widened, and he looked to Ketrik.

"What does this mean?" the chief hissed.

Ketrik's wide eyes reflected the eerie light of the flame as he rose. He moved over to the fire, knelt, and brushed his fingers over some of the purple-glowing embers.

"The gods are...beyond pleased with what was offered. They rejoice with the glory of that duel, of the honor of all the combatants."

"And so what does that mean?" Rathgar growled through clenched teeth.

"I think the gods mean for us to follow the champion's cause."

"So Garnoc doesn't get his own challenge?" Neryth asked weakly.

Ketrik shook his head, then rose and headed over to tend to the wounds of Torvath and Ekwulf.

"I do not think so. Your blood and steel were viewed so favorably, that there is no need."

She saw a faint flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but wasn't about to press him.

"So be it," the chief said. "Tonight, we drink, we rest, we see to the wounded. And tomorrow, we shall march to Duke Lucan's side."

Judging by the grins from many of the warriors, it wasn't an unwelcome decision. Ekwulf beamed as well, even as he wiped blood from his face.

"Good," he grunted. "Never liked fighting for that dishonorable fool." He wrinkled his nose at Neryth. "Suppose this makes us...comrades, then."

"Considering you'll be fighting for my duke, and I'm his second-in-command...I suppose this makes you my subordinate, not my comrade," she said, grinning cheekily.

Ekwulf's eyes narrowed and he huffed, but Torvath matched her grin. Ketrik finished wrapping up the wounds of the warriors, then rose and stepped away to talk with his cousin.

"And what you said earlier, at the start of the duel," Torvath said softly, his voice low and gravelly. "About celebrating..."

"You asking to get between my legs, Torvath?" she asked, laughing through the lingering pain. "We're both bloody messes." She then threw him a wink. "Another time, maybe."

Ekwulf grumbled to himself, so she turned his grin upon him.

"Don't be so sad. No reason you can't have a go, too." She winked again. "No reason you both can't, in fact. After all, it can be challenging for just one man to handle me..."

Both men grinned, and they shared a brief, knowing glance.

It was a bit strange, to offer herself to two men who had nearly killed her. But the fight and the triumph had gotten her blood boiling in the sort of way that could only be sated with another fight or with a good, hard fuck. And it wasn't the first time she'd spread her legs for someone after fighting them. Crossing blades was often a fun precursor to a tumble in a bedroll.

"Once we're cleaned and healed, then," Torvath said. "We shall further honor your skill, captain."

She wriggled with excitement. Usually she didn't go for such rough, brawny men, but for those two, she'd make an exception. Especially for Torvath, since he'd spared her when he could have gone in for a sure kill.

One of the barbarians knelt and passed her a flagon of ale. She took a deep gulp, sighed, then passed it to Torvath, who in turn drank and passed it to Ekwulf.

Neryth sighed again, then leaned back against the grass to stare up at the stars.

"Lucan better increase my pay after this shit," she grumbled to herself. But in truth, she was glad to serve. The blood she'd spilled that day would ensure an easy victory over Garnoc. Her friends and comrades among Lucan's army would not have to risk their lives in a bloody assault, and Garnoc's innocent victims would be avenged.

She took a deep breath. For the moment, she was content to relax, to recover, and to busy her mind with thoughts of what those two warriors could do to her...

***

Thanks to the exhaustion from her wandering in the spirit-world and the wild lovemaking, Sarya had quickly slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber upon returning to her chambers.

After hours of rest, she was awoken by faint sensations of something brushing against her left hand, then her right.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open. She was laying on her stomach on that fine bed, still clad in the same chemise she'd worn when Lucan had ravished her the night before. As the grogginess of sleep left her mind, her eyes widened at the sight of the silken ropes binding each of her wrists to the bedposts.

"What-"

She sensed someone behind her, and strained to look over her shoulder.

Lucan stood at the foot of the bed, a hungry grin on his face. His eye looked her up and down, apparently quite pleased with how she was bound.

"This is hardly a polite way to wake up a visiting dignitary, my lord," she said.

Despite the shock, a thrill ran through her at the thought of being helpless for him yet again.

"This is my castle," he said with a wave of his hand at the stone walls. "I can do as I please here."

His eye drifted down her back, towards her ass, which was just barely covered by the silken garment. Sarya licked her lips and raised her hips a little, giving him a slightly better view.

"I honestly thought about waking you in the middle of the night," he admitted. "My need was great, but your need for rest was greater, I think."

"Well," she whispered. "I am fully rested now. So if you need comfort and relief...my lord." She raised her ass up even higher. "You need only take it."

She watched, staring at him with ravenous eyes as he undressed. She'd seen him bare from the waist down before, but he'd kept his cloak and tunic on during their first tryst. Her eyes widened and she cooed with approval at the sight of his pale, broad chest, and beamed at the way his muscles rippled as he removed the rest of his clothing.

To her surprise, Lucan had not a single scar or wound, save for that patch-covered eye. She wondered if it was due to his skill as a warrior or the skill of his healers, but she was hardly in the mood to ask such questions at the moment.

Sarya's leg stretched out, her toes brushing against his firm thigh.

"Go on, my lord. Take what you need."

Lucan grinned, then moved to kneel behind her on the bed. Her breath caught in her throat as he gripped his cock to guide it towards her sex, which was growing more wet with each passing moment. Sarya actually moaned at the memories of what that cock had done to her the night before, and the way he had so wickedly and wonderfully 'punished' her.

"Say it," he said softly, his voice trembling just a touch. "Say it again."

She felt the tip brush just barely against the soaked entrance to her pussy. She bit her lip and whined a bit, and grinded her hips back against him, to try to entice him.

"Take what you need," she repeated.

And so he did.

Lucan's shaft sank deep inside her with one smooth, glorious thrust. Within moments, she was moaning with abandon as he settled into a slow, teasing pace. One of his hands gripped her hip, steadying himself behind her, while the other reached down, his skilled fingers seeking her clit.

That first, brief touch between her legs drew forth a ragged cry from the duchess' lips.

She expected him to turn fierce and savage after the first few moments, as he'd done back in the dining room, but instead the duke continued with those slow, deep and deliberate motions.

A half minute had passed and she was already writhing beneath him, her hands tugging against the silken bonds. Her eyes bulged as his fingers rubbed gently against her clit, then began to firmly circle and tease.

"You like this, don't you?" he asked, panting just a bit.

She turned her head as best she could to stare back at him with hungry, heavy-lidded eyes.

"Yes."

"You like being helpless. You like being pinned down and used."

"Gods, yes."

The words made her blush.

"But..." she continued. "I want to do this to you in return. Tie you up. Make you helpless." Her eyes fluttered again. "Use you."

At that, he fucked her a bit harder, his pace increasing just by a little. It was enough to make her toes curl and her back arch, and enough to draw her climax ever closer.

Gods, he was good...

"I'd like that," he panted back. "I'd...also like other things."

"Yes?"

His hand slapped at her ass.

"I'd like to fuck that ass of yours. Defile you."

She shuddered.

"What else? What else do you want to do to me?"

"I want to taste you," he muttered. "And I want to fuck you, fast and hard and deep, with your shaking legs wrapped around my waist. I want to see you above me, writhing and grinding on my cock." He slapped her backside again and she yelped. "And I want to tie you up, and let Neryth have her way with you while I watch."

Sarya trembled at that, her eyes widening as her imagination ran wild...thinking of the smirking captain going down on her, and forcing Sarya to taste her pussy in return. Such thoughts were made all the more delightful by the idea of Lucan being present.

"That's what you're thinking of now, isn't it?" she purred back at him, despite the occasional gasp. "You're thinking of me with my legs spread, with Neryth's pretty lips suckling on my pussy. You're dreaming of locking eyes with me as her fingers slide deep within me..."

And truth be told, she was thinking of that, too. Another shiver wracked her body and she groaned, both at his thrusts and at the wicked teasing.

"Yes," he growled, sweat dripping down his brow.

"You're imagining me moaning out her name while I come, aren't you?"

He twitched inside her, and her eyes danced with glee.

"Neryth," she moaned out, drawing out the sounds for effect. His hand left her sex, earning a whimper from the duchess, and both his hands tightly gripped her hips.

Lucan sped up, his hips slapping against her reddened backside, and the four-post bed shook, again and again.

"Neryth," she mewled again, getting lost in the fantasy and in the sensations brought about by the duke's body. "Oh gods, your tongue, captain. Even better...even better than Lucan's cock."

His eye burned with irritation and lust: her words were inflaming and annoying him in equal measure, and clearly driving his need even higher. He pulled back, the tip nearly slipping free from her, before plunging back in for his deepest thrust yet.

Her wrists squirmed even more against the bonds as she cried out.

"More," he snapped. "Tell...tell me more."

"And once she's done with me," she panted. "Once she's made me cry out, again and again, I'd pull her lips up to mine, and lick her mouth clean." She licked her lips at that. Despite being barely able to breathe, she kept going, knowing that her teasing words were inspiring him to fuck her even faster and deeper.

"And then I'd push her onto her back, and turn my back to you as I knelt between her legs. I'd let you see my ass, my lord. I'd let you see my pussy drip as I licked her until she moaned out my name." His eye widened and he snarled out a curse.

She felt him twitch; the sensation and his reactions drew her climax ever closer.

Lucan cursed again, his fingers digging savagely into her soft, pale hips. Indecision flashed in his gaze, and she felt him start to pull back.

She lifted her foot, pressing her heel against his backside.

"Don't pull out," she hissed, sure that Brunloc's alchemy was still working. And if not, there were other precautions she could take.

He responded not with words, but with a fierce, deep thrust that made her back arch fiercely, and made her toss her head with agonized pleasure. Gods, that thrust was just what she needed.

Sarya cried out, her toes digging into the sheets, her wrists frantically tugging at the bonds. She buried her head in the pillow and muffled the rest of her cry, then bit down as he kept going, kept fucking her, kept using her.

The pleasure stretched on, building and building as he ravished her aching, dripping sex. Sarya yanked her head away from the sheets to let out a long, ragged and weak moan as her orgasm started to fade. Her hips still twitched, bucking back against him, and little aftershocks sent her heart racing and set her skin ablaze.

"Almost," he groaned out. The sound was surprisingly weak and vulnerable.

"Take...take what you need," she managed to mewl again, before her head fell back to the bed. Sarya went limp beneath him, and his grip tightened even further. She felt so small and weak and powerless, a feeling that she was growing to love, whether it was being helpless in the arms of gruff barbarians or an unseen spirit or an icy duke.

He let out three deep, gruff gasps as his cock twitched, then spilled himself deep within her. Sarya let out a squeak of delight at the sensation of his cum feeling her, and her hips rocked back against him, drawing out his pleasure and adding to her own.

A lazy, triumphant smile spread across her sweaty face as the duke tensed and cursed. His shaky thrusts slowed, then stopped.

Lucan remained deep inside her for a few moments, panting and shivering. He leaned down, licked her shoulder, then reached up to undo the ties around her wrists. She smiled gratefully and reached back, brushing a hand over his cheek, while the other brushed her hair out of her face.

"Another successful round of negotiations," he said, his voice as cold and impassive as it had been when they'd met. But she saw the grin in his gaze, and he let out an almost mournful groan as he pulled out of her, his seed leaking onto the fine sheets.

"Speaking of negotiations," she murmured, rolling onto her back and stretching out. "Have you reached a decision?"

"I have. I already sent Neryth and Ketrik to the camp of the mercenaries."

Her eyes widened and she shot upright.

"What? You sent him away without consulting me?"

"You were busy sleeping, and that was what you wanted anyway, yes?"

"It was...I just wasn't expecting you to do so without finalizing the arrangement without me, first." She wrinkled her nose, a bit annoyed, but relaxed when she realized that perhaps the mercenaries could be recruited even faster, since he'd sent Ketrik and Neryth during the middle of the night.

"When do you expect to hear back from them?" she asked.

The duke rose from the bed and picked up a towel to wipe himself off, then tossed her a fresh one. She lazily cleaned up between her legs, then reclined back on the sheets, watching him get dressed.

She was a touch disappointed that he wasn't going to linger with her in bed any longer, for she quite liked a gentle touch and a warm presence after lovemaking. But she knew that the duties of a duke took precedence over her desire to cuddle.

"I was hoping for word by dawn..." His eyes flitted to the gaps in the windows. "But there has been no word yet."

Dread briefly coursed through her. Gods, had her plan gotten Neryth and Ketrik both killed? She barely knew either of them, but she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she'd sent them to their deaths.

"But the captain is resourceful. She has been in dire situations before, and has triumphed all the same, and she's the best damned fighter under my command."

Dread turned to relief at the confidence in his tone. If he believed in Neryth, then so did she, for Lucan did not strike her as the sort of man who would place his trust in the unworthy.

"And I admit that I am curious, my lord: is she as skilled in bed as she is in battle?"

Lucan shook his head as he buttoned up his tunic.

"I wouldn't know. I've never actually slept with her."

"What?" she asked, mouth agape. "You meant to tell me that after what happened last night, she's never wriggled into your bed?"

"No. Never. She has watched before, and I've watched her, and she's 'helped,' as she did last night. But we have never lain together." Lust ignited briefly in his eye, and he knelt to collect his boots.

"Strange."

"Yes. We have a rather unique friendship. Hard to describe."

"Clearly."

She wondered what that would be like, to have a comrade and confidante whom she could fight alongside and also invite into the bedroom to 'help' and to watch. She knew of no one in her life who could have filled such a role. There were people she trusted, of course, like Viktor and Brunloc, but she would never dream of inviting such men into her bedroom to assist with a wild fuck.

"And what of you and the shaman?" he asked. "Has he enjoyed the delights of your body?"

She watched him closely, wondering if he was asking out of potential jealousy or possessiveness, but he was as unreadable as ever.

"No," she said. "But he's strong, handsome and has tried to help my people. So I would not turn him away, were he discreet."

She continued to watch him closely, searching for a flash of anger or irritation in his face, but she saw no reaction whatsoever.

"And...how would you feel about that?" she asked. He had no claim upon her, of course, but she had to tread carefully, to ensure that her lusts didn't undermine the burgeoning alliance.

"You can fuck whomever you please," he said with a slight laugh. "Why would I care?" His eye looked her sweaty body up and down. "As long as I can enjoy your body every once and while, why does it matter if someone else does?"

Sarya slowly rose and cleaned herself up, then slipped out of the sweaty shift. Lucan eyed her approvingly as she got dressed, and she wriggled her ass a little, to give him a bit of a show before covering up.

"Good to know. Because I may well have to use my body and my wiles to entice other dukes to the cause."

And if they were half as charming and insatiable as Lucan, she wouldn't much mind.

"Who says you shall have to do all the seducing?" he asked, as he clasped his cloak about his shoulders. "I am sure I could bend many a duchess to my will."

Sarya laughed and gave his backside a light slap.

"I am sure you could, my lord."

His eyes darted to her rear, as if he was going to return the favor, but the call of a trumpet distracted him.

"Could that be the scouts reporting their return?" she asked eagerly, as she pulled on another borrowed dress.

"Or it could be my men sounding the alarm that an attack is imminent," he grumbled, snatching up his sword.

He trotted towards the door and raced out into the hall. Sarya gathered up her dress past her ankles and ran as fast as she could after him. Halfway down the hall, she realized she'd forgotten her shoes, but cursed and kept on running.

She barged out into the courtyard, right on Lucan's heels.

"It's the captain, milord!" a sentry shouted from the walls. "At the head of...at the head of a whole swarm of savages!"

Sarya's eyes lit up.

"Shall we open the gates?" another soldier called.

"Not yet," Lucan said. "We must be sure that this is not a trick, that she is not a prisoner or under duress."

"Oh, I doubt that, milord," laughed another sentry, lowering his spyglass. "She's got that usual damnable grin on her face."