The authors are not new to the craft of the wordsmith. After hanging out together too much, they decided that they liked each other's style and started work on a long-termed project. This is their first official venture into co-writing and erotica. Comments will be greatly appreciated at mercedez@microsith.com
The late evening mist cloaked many things, even the occasional ambush or murder. This was not the first time Tarus the beggar witnessed a murder in a dark alley in Mathra's Haven, but this particular one stood out in his mind.
He was trying to sleep, curled up under a worn mat of woven reeds behind some empty crates for warmth and shelter when he heard a heated exchange some distance away. Her tone was threatening. His replies were guarded. Then, one of them began walking away. Tarus assumed this was some lover's spat and closed his eyes. The footfalls went past his hiding place and kept going. He heard a second set of footsteps heading towards him.
The woman came close and stopped, so near; he could smell her perfume over the stench of filth in the alley. There was a rustle of fabric. Something small and metallic clattered onto the stone path. He heard her swear under her breath. There was a short, short snap of a crossbow discharge, followed by a surprised grunt and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the dirt.
Tarus' eyes were wide open in fear as the woman walked towards the fallen man. He heard her search among his clothing. He heard her drag the body over the ground. He heard her walk away, the sound of her footsteps receding in the distance, swallowed by the misty night. He waited a long time before he slowly ventured out.
There was no sign of the body. The beggar concluded that she had been smart enough to hide it. No matter. They will find it when it begins to stink. He found a crossbow bolt on the floor and was disappointed. He had hoped that she dropped a coin.
* * * * *
Carde Manvell sat down in the expensive leather chair, pouring himself a brandy. He was quite pleased with himself, and decided that he had earned a little treat. He called out his most trusted servant, handed over a small piece of parchment, and sat back. His athletic body rested, knowing a sweet reward was on its way.
The administrator loosened the sash that held his robe, a sash that designated him as a member of the City Council of Arens. It was a position that few would take lightly, because the City Council together had as much power as the duke, Apotheus. Only the most cunning and noble could serve.
Carde numbered himself among the former.
The administrator lay down on the bed in his private quarters. He closed his eyes for a moment to rest his weary head, and to prepare himself for the hours to come. After all, he would have to be mentally and physically fit, for that little reward. Eyes closed, he grinned to himself and his own genius.
There came a knock on the door. His eyes flew open, roused from sleep. Silently, he cursed himself; he hadn't intended to actually fall dormant. It wouldn't do to let his guard down like that, not now.
"Enter!" he called, and pulled one of the bell cords, then another. The first would summon drink and food to his quarters, the second signaled to his personal guard that he felt it was wise for them to keep an extra eye out tonight. His guards knew the score, and they knew the height of their pay if he was still breathing. He would be safe.
A figure entered the room, closing the door behind her. Carde immediately recognized it as female; the telltale curves and the achingly graceful way with which she moved belied her nature, even though is was hidden by veil and hooded cloak.
"Madame Jaruva sent me, lord Manvell." She spoke calmly. Carde noticed that her cloak was held by a jeweled clasp, and recognized the jewelry. Only certain individuals wore such clasps. Lord Manvell had instructed his guards to let such persons through, because their company was always welcome to him.
The clasp marked her as a member of the Houri, an ancient order, perhaps as old as the city itself. These were no ordinary women selling their body for a few coins; they were mistresses of the art, trained in every sensation, every form of pleasure. It was whispered, in dark corridors and away from the leaders of the Houri order, that the women were trained in mental magery, weaving spells of seduction and mastery over their customers. None of those rumors kept the rich from employing their services, though. Their official symbol, an open secret among the nobles who knew of the order's services, was a snake twined around a heart. Just like the sign on the woman's clasp.
Carde Manvell didn't relax, though.
"Where is Celina? I asked specifically for Celina." he stated haughtily, naming his favorite among the order. The woman chuckled, a dark, rich chuckle, and stepped forward, in his direction. Carde kept his eyes on her as she advanced, the suspicion clear on his face.
"Madame Jaruva sends her apologies, my lord." the woman replied. "Celina has been taken ill unexpectedly. Madame thought you might like me instead."
A slender hand reached up and unclasped the cloak. The material parted to reveal what was concealed underneath: a thin silk sheath that did little to hide the lush curve of her body, the shape of her erect nipples against the material. Carde stared.
"Fine." he said at last, although he was definitely feeling his body tell him she was more than just fine. "You'll have to do, then." He tried to work as much grudge into his voice as possible. There was no harm in having the girl try harder to please him. "Let me see your face, girl. What is your name?"
The woman slowly removed the veil, showing him her face. She had smoky eyes and a regal nose that was held high, lips that parted moistly, and hair that was dark and glossy as the mane of his best palfrey. She also had an air of arrogance that asked to be broken like a wild mare. Carde was caught up in the sight, and found himself wondering exactly how he would do that breaking in.
"You may call me Maya." she replied in coy, honeyed tones.
"Maya, eh?" He approached her, shrugging off his overcoat and draping it over a chair before loosening his cuffs. He walked over to her, close enough to touch. "Tell me, Maya, has Madame Jaruva instructed you as to how I am to be pleased?"
Maya met his gaze with the correct amount of submission in her eyes. "No, lord. You are to instruct me in your every wish. Have me do as you will."
Carde halted for a moment. Damn, that had given him goose bumps. These Houri were so very good at reading one's desires...
"Remain as you are, girl. I will look at you."
He walked around her, taking in the curves. She had a perfect figure, with full, inviting breasts, and a slim waist. He could see slightly tanned skin, a welcome change from the pale hue of Llewdorian noblewomen, and certainly from the more everyday shade of pale that was telltale of the women of Arens, and all of the north of the country. She seemed exotic to him, and he found himself staring again.
"Hmm." He mumbled. His hands strayed, brushed over her breast, circling the erect nipples. He kneaded it, reveling in the touch.
Oh, how he would have her treat him. She would scream for mercy.
As if it were possible, her nipples grew even harder under his touch. Carde heard, and felt her draw a breath, the subtle swell of her breasts filling his hands. She did not move otherwise, and for a moment, he thought he saw a look of defiance enter her dark eyes. It was gone before he could be sure. No matter. He would tame her, he decided. And enjoy every moment of it.
His hands slowly glided down to the curve of her waist as he leaned in slightly to take in her scent. She was wearing something subtle and flowery, a perfume that hinted disarming innocence. It made him smirk with irony.
"You are new," he stated, allowing his hands to follow the inviting shape of her hips. It was in no way a question, just a simple fact. "That is right, my lord." Maya replied. She stepped forward to him, the light catching her moist lips, the look in her eyes, filled with desire. Carde had a very hard time reassuring himself that these people worked only for the money. He cannot tear his gaze away from the sight of her breasts - those lovely, perfectly shaped breasts with their huge perky nipples. To Carde, it seemed that this woman wanted him like she'd wanted no man before. It's an illusion, he reminded himself. They're trained to do this. But his inner voice wasn't that convincing anymore.
Maya took a step back, keeping her eyes on his face even though his had interest only in her body. She discarded the cloak. To Carde's delight, a delicate strap that rested on one shoulder was all that held up her entire thin sheath, and there was little that separated him from this woman's naked body. He liked that.
"Tell me, lord Manvell," Maya whispered seductively. "How might I please you?" Her hands that were initially resting on her thighs, slid up her impressive figure, over her breasts and moved to that strap on her shoulder, gently starting to slide it off. The administrator found himself almost transfixed by her deliberate, tantalizing movements. "You will satisfy me until you drop of sheer exhaustion." He managed hoarsely.
Maya's only reply was a slow smile. Then, she slipped the sheath off, letting it ripple off her body as if it were water, falling to her feet in a silky puddle.
For the umpteenth time that evening, Carde Manvell found himself staring.
It was all extremely beautiful. His eyes hungrily took in the curves of her breasts, delicate, not too large, certainly not too small. Her body was athletic, with a perfect hourglass figure; the skin was tanned everywhere. Everywhere, Carde repeated to himself. She was without pubic hair, all smooth skin and seductive smile. As he stood there, she stepped up and plied herself against him, running a hand under his robe, over his bare chest.
"Now, my lord," she said with a playful smile, "If you'd care to lie back?"
That wasn't how it was supposed to be, the administrator thought. Celina, his personal favorite, would lie there and take his extremely rough lusts as if they were her deepest desire. He would pound into her up to the point where she might start bleeding, and bit at her flesh until it was ragged and blue. Celina enjoyed such things, or at least pretended to, so well that Carde wouldn't notice the difference.
Yet here was Maya, wrapping him around her little finger as if he was some gawking beardless youth off the streets. He would have protested arrogantly, but he didn't find the will. This was something unexpected, something deliciously new. Was she going to show him what he was missing all this while? Yes, he thought, feeling himself become hard under his perfectly tailored clothes.
Her lips connected with his throat as she parted the front of his robe, and pushed it back over his shoulders and gliding it down his arms. They were cool lips, sending a pleasant chill up his spine. Then her breasts were against his chest, her naked thighs pressing against him subtly. Carde's head became light, almost dizzy. He allowed himself to go down on his back upon his bed at her urging. His eyes showed confusion, but still he was helpless as a child under her attention.
Maya ran her hands over his bare chest, and brought them down to his pants. The Houri removed them as well, uncovering the administrator fully. She looked down at his engorged tool and gave him a lazy, seductive smile. "I see I'm an adequate replacement, my lord."
How dare she! Carde wanted to say something, a sneering remark, anything. His mouth opened wordlessly, then closed again. All he could think of was the woman and what she could do for him. What he would do to her.
She straddled his legs, teasing his penis with her fingers. It must be a technique, he thought wildly, some sort of spell craft. Celina never...
Her tongue flicked over the top of his erection. His body strained in anticipation. Then, she sat down on him, sliding him into her gently, her hands on his chest. Carde closed his eyes, retreating into a private but extreme bliss as Maya started moving up and down, drawing him deeper into her and back out again. It has to be some kind of sorcery; everything she did was simple, effortless, something any tavern wench could do, but he was shattered by it. The release of it was nearing him, not even ten minutes after she had entered the room. It exploded over him, taking all senses away.
Lost in the throes of passion, he never saw her blade tracing an arc in the air, never heard the whisper of cold steel cutting into the sound of his moans. By the time Carde realized something was terribly amiss, the blade has pounded into his chest several times. In a hazy red mist, his senses were suddenly acute. He smelt the metallic scent of blood, and the musky one of sex. He heard Maya cried out at her own release, her voice fading to nothing in his ears. Then, as suddenly as his senses returned, they left. Carde knew no more.