THE DICE OF FATE

Silvi waited patiently at the west gate of the fortress, watching the eastern sky turn golden as the light of morning kindled the distant mountains. An hour passed, in which she sat on the bench beside the gate, rubbing her aching legs. The previous day’s long march had taken its toll on her limbs and she longed to return to her bed. The air at the gate was clear and cool, but her uniform of green cloth felt hot and uncomfortable, the hem of the short skirt itching her thighs and the sleeves of the shirt making her arms sweat. She usually wore her chestnut-brown hair long and loose, but today she had tied it in a ponytail, using a black silk ribbon that her sweetheart had given for her eighteenth birthday. The gift, he had told her, was a special present to mark their betrothal.

A man in the infantry uniform of red tunic and white trousers strode across the dusty courtyard. He was tall and grey-bearded and carried a sergeant’s baton.

“Are you Silvi the Ranger?” he inquired. “I was sent to find you. I bring a message from the surgeon.”

“The surgeon?” Silvi asked, her brows furrowing beneath her dark fringe.

The sergeant nodded. “The barbarian warrior named Keelam is unable to supervise your training today. She lies in the infirmary and is very ill. I suggest you return to your dormitory and await further news.”

Silvi sprang up from the bench, her eyes wide with anxiety. “Keelam is ill? I must go to her at once!”

“As you wish,” the sergeant replied, walking away towards the barracks.

Silvi hurried across the courtyard and entered the door of the infirmary. There, in a small room off the main corridor, she found a solemn group of people standing beside a white bed. From the rear she recognized the long dark hair of the barbarian warrior Sharmoon, Keelam’s close friend. Next to Sharmoon stood the surgeon, leaning over a small blonde woman who lay pale and motionless under a sheepskin blanket. A taller blonde sat beside the bed, her face buried in her hands.

The surgeon shook his head and sighed. “I’m sorry, comrades. But I can do no more for her.”

Sharmoon nodded. “We appreciate your efforts, even though her ailment was beyond your skill. Tomorrow we’ll send her back to her family.”

She placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of the seated blonde. “Come, Chekhu. Your bedside vigil is ended. Go to your bed and get some rest.”

Chekhu lifted her head from her hands and tried to smile, but her face was so pale and drawn that the expression looked like a grimace of pain. “You’re right. We should leave her in peace.”

Silvi stood in the doorway and stifled a cry of grief and dismay, the sound attracting the attention of Sharmoon, who walked over to greet her. Silvi looked up into the tall barbarian’s keen blue eyes and sniffed back a sob.

Sharmoon gave a kindly smile. “Keelam will not be taking you into the forest today, little ranger,” she said quietly, taking a deep breath and looking at the figure on the bed. “Alas! She brought this terrible fate upon herself. I warned her that this day would come too soon.”

A tear rolled down Silvi’s cheek and her lower lip trembled. “The day of her death?” she whispered.

Sharmoon looked puzzled, lifting her dark eyebrows in surprise. “Her death? No indeed, Silvi! I do not think the gods of heaven or hell are ready to take Keelam off our hands just yet. I meant the day when she finally drank herself into a mindless stupour. I warned her many times that too much strong wine would ruin her body and reduce it to a pitiful carcase.”

Silvi’s face brightened with sudden relief and joy. “She lives? Then I misheard the words of doom that were spoken?”

Sharmoon grinned. “Ah! I see now why you thought our little comrade had relinquished this life. An easy mistake, when Keelam lies lifeless in the infirmary, her lips tinged with blue and her cheeks as pale as death.”

“And Chekhu looking so sad and weary,” Silvi added, pointing to the tall blonde sitting beside the bed. “I thought she was mourning our dear comrade.”

“Chekhu is nursing a hangover that would burst the skull of an ox,” Sharmoon explained. “She and Keelam had a drinking contest last night, but neither of them emerged victorious. The surgeon gave Chekhu a potion to soothe her aching head, but he has no remedy for Keelam, who will soon wake to pain and regret.”

Silvi smiled, relaxing her shoulders and leaning against the doorway. “And what did you mean when you told the surgeon about sending Keelam back to her family.”

“Tomorrow she is due to start a fortnight’s holiday,” Sharmoon replied. “Her brother is getting married and has invited Keelam to the wedding. The journey home is long and arduous, but hopefully she will be sufficiently recovered if she sleeps today.”

The surgeon packed his small leather case and headed for the door. Sharmoon and Silvi stepped aside to let him pass, but he paused to give a last look back at the bed.

“You barbarians drink too much,” he said, jabbing a finger at Sharmoon. “Your little friend should stay clear of ale and wine for a week at least, until her body recovers from this latest onslaught. Tell her to drink as much clear water as her belly can hold.” He clicked his tongue. “Our captain will not be happy about this when I tell him what has happened. He is paying you three a very good wage to train our Ranger cadets, including young Silvi here. Much time and money is wasted by these needless bouts of drunkenness.”

Sharmoon bowed courteously. “We hear your wise words, good sir,” she answered. “Keelam will personally apologize to the Captain as soon as she is fit enough to walk and talk.”

The surgeon glowered and stormed off, cursing under his breath. Sharmoon and Silvi watched him go, and Chekhu joined them in the doorway, combing her long blonde hair with trembling fingers.

“That stuff he gave me tasted awful,” she commented, her voice faint and unsteady. “What I really need is a jug of cool beer.”

Sharmoon laughed, pushing her out into the corridor. “Go to bed! I’ll see you this evening, after I’ve taken Silvi on a jaunt through the trees.”

“My forest training?” Silvi asked hopefully. “The exercise Keelam was supposed to supervise?”

Sharmoon nodded. “Fortunately I’m sober, so I’ll take Keelam’s place. I’m less skilled as a tracker, but I can show you a few ambush tricks when we reach the woodland trails.”

“Thank you, comrade!” said Silvi.

*************

The following day dawned bright and clear, after a night of unexpected rain and thunder. In the muddy courtyard of the fortress Silvi shouldered her heavy pack and walked over to the north gate. Two infantry cadets guarding it greeted Silvi as she approached. One was a girl in a short red dress, the other a lad in scarlet tunic and clean white trousers. Both carried spears and small round shields.

“Good morning, Silvi!” said the boy. “I hear you are leaving us for a couple of weeks.”

“I am,” Silvi replied. “Keelam the barbarian is taking me back to her home in the far north, where I shall continue my ranger training under her expert supervision. It was the Captain’s idea.”

“Keelam had no choice but to agree to it,” said the boy. “I hear he is not at all pleased with her recent antics.”

The girl in the red dress gave a knowing grin. “Be careful, Silvi. Especially at night. Keelam has a fondness for pretty women. It won’t matter to her that you are betrothed to a fine young man in the city.”

Silvi frowned. “I’ve spent many hours of training with Keelam and she has always treated me with honour and respect. So your warning is unnecessary.”

“Here she comes now!” the boy muttered, as a small blonde in a short buckskin dress strode across the courtyard.

“Hello, Keelam!” said Silvi, greeting the barbarian with a smile of delight.

“Ready to set off?” Keelam asked, tightening the straps on her backpack.

Silvi nodded, and together they marched through the gate and took the northward road towards the mountains.

**********

“Oh Keelam!” Silvi whispered softly, closing her eyes as she lay back on the blanket.

It was early evening, and the stars were shining in a dark azure sky. In a cave in the hills the two travellers had set their camp for the night, spreading their blankets side by side near a glowing fire. Their meal of herbal stew had been washed down with springwater, and now they lay naked in the warm firelight, snuggling in each other’s arms.

Silvi caressed her companion’s tangled blonde mane and kissed the pink pouting mouth. At eighteen, she was ten years younger than Keelam, and was barely an inch or two taller, but she felt strangely protective of the tough barbarian and detected in her a vulnerability that others rarely saw. Most people had heard of Keelam’s reputation as a hard-drinking, hard-fighting warrior woman, but few folk knew her well enough to see a gentler side to her character. Silvi had perceived that gentleness within an hour of their first meeting, less than a month earlier, and she had quickly grown fond of the little blonde, admiring her quick wit and her uncanny skill at scouting a trail.

“That feels good!” Silvi murmured, as Keelam’s fingers brushed over her pubic hair.

“It’s so soft,” the barbarian commented. “Like the feathers of a baby swan.”

Silvi giggled, then took a deep breath when a finger slipped past the hairs to stroke her cunt-lips.

“I don’t know why I’m letting you do this,” she muttered. “But I don’t want it to stop.”

Keelam planted a small kiss on the girl’s mouth. “You feel that you betray your sweetheart?”

Silvi nodded, but she returned the kiss eagerly. “Yes. He and I are due to be married next spring. A better bride than I would be faithful to her betrothed.”

Keelam smiled, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “He is far away in the city, and is none the wiser. A woman should enjoy herself before marriage, satisfying her curiosity while she is still young, lest she be tempted to stray in the years after the wedding.”

“This is our secret, then?” said Silvi, grinning as her sensitive inner flesh responded to Keelam’s probing finger.

Keelam nodded, bending her head to lick Silvi’s neck and ears, kissing the strands of dark hair that tumbled around the girl’s shoulders.

**********

The journey north was a tough three-day trek over the mountains and down to the untamed country beyond. Keelam knew every turn of the trail and the course of every stream, even in the vast woods of beech and elm where Silvi lost all sense of direction . At last, as the third day drew to its close, the two travellers saw lights gleaming in a green meadowland between a forest and a knot of rocky hills.

“Look, Silvi!” said Keelam, pointing towards the lights. “The cooking-fires of my people, and the wagons of my kin!”

Evening shade was falling across the meadows when they reached the circle of twenty covered wagons enclosing a dozen brightly-burning fires. Heavy-limbed oxen strayed on the perimeter of the circle, nibbling the short grass and flicking their tails. Silvi saw that each wagon was painted in vivid colours and bore strange emblems that she guessed were heraldic devices or the badges of clans and families. Many folk of different ages sat in groups around the fires, spooning bowls of steaming stew from black iron pots or supping ale from leather jugs that they passed from group to group. The men were shaggy-haired and weatherbeaten, the women smooth-skinned and adorned with gold jewellery. Small children played under the largest wagons, chasing each other between the huge spoked wheels.

Keelam walked among the cooking-fires, returning the smiles and the words of welcome that greeted her. Silvi followed in her wake, savouring the aroma of herbs and spices that rose from the pots. Keelam halted at a fire on the edge of the circle and looked down at the three people sitting around it. Two men and a woman sat there, hunched over bowls of stewed meat that they ate with their fingers. When they saw Keelam their faces beamed with delight.

“She’s here at last!” said one of the men, a lean blond fellow in his early thirties. “My little sister has come home! Sit down, Kee, and grab a bowl for you and your friend.”

“Good evening to you, Maskel my brother,” Keelam replied, sitting cross-legged near the fire with Silvi at her side. “And greetings also to your lovely betrothed,” she added, turning to smile at the woman who sat close to Maskel.

The woman smiled, flashing her pearl-white teeth. Her tousled mane of raven hair was streaked with red dye and plaited with delicate golden thread. She wore a loose white shirt and close-fitting grey trousers that clung to her sleek legs like stockings, but her feet were bare except for a small silver bangle on each ankle. Her skin was a rich deep shade of brown, dark and smooth like coffee, and her eyes were hazel-grey. Silvi had seen people of that race before, in the streets of her own city, and as a child she had often stared at them. They hailed from the mysterious southern continent far beyond the ocean and rarely ventured north to the Heartland.

“And who is your young companion?” the dark woman asked, her bright gaze falling on Silvi.

“She is a ranger cadet from the South,” Keelam explained. “Her name is Silvi. She and I will be continuing her training while we sojourn here.”

“My name is Tifuzana,” said the dark woman to Silvi. “But most folk call me Tiff. And this is Maskel, my betrothed, the brother of Keelam. The big brute next to you is Keb the blacksmith.”

Silvi saw that the man sitting beside her was indeed very large and rugged. His straggly brown hair was gathered in a short ponytail which flicked his bare shoulders, for he wore no shirt. His muscular arms bore many blue tattoos, and gold rings dangled from his ears. But he was clean-shaven and his fingernails were well-scrubbed. He seemed to Silvi less of an uncouth barbarian than the blacksmiths who plied their trade in her own home city.

Keelam and Silvi tucked eagerly into bowls of stew and were glad to rest their weary feet. Silvi had never before journeyed into the barbarian lands and she was curious to learn about this wild northern region and its inhabitants, with whom her distant city shared an alliance against a common foe. She therefore said little, choosing instead to listen to the conversations that passed to and fro across the campfire. She learned that Keelam’s family belonged to a travelling clan who roamed far and wide in their wagons, trading homespun clothes for money and food, or offering their oxen to farmers who lacked such heavy beasts. Some, such as Keb the blacksmith, were much in demand as specialists. Keelam’s brother Maskel was an expert guide and tracker who made a good living as a bounty-hunter, his prey being mostly sheep-rustlers and cattle-thieves. Silvi was unsurprised to discover that Keelam had learned her matchless scouting technique under her brother’s tutelage when, as small children, they had accompanied their father on many dangerous journeys into bandit country.

As the hours passed, Silvi found her gaze being drawn often to Tiff, whom she found incredibly exotic and beautiful. She was very curious to know what brought a dark-skinned woman from the Far South to the wild northlands and, during a lull in the conversation, she asked the question.

“I come from the scorched desert of Kaluga,” Tiff explained. “I sailed to the Heartland twelve years ago, at the age of fourteen, to seek my fortune as a jewelsmith. I dwelt awhile in your city, but its great size frightened me, so I wandered northward into the wilderness.”

“And there she met me,” said Keelam. “I was nineteen and had never seen anyone with such dark skin. Tiff sold me a ring of silver and amethyst, which I still cherish.”

“We fell in love,” Tiff added, smiling at Silvi’s raised eyebrows. “And Keelam brought me home to her kin. But then she went away with the army, and my heart turned to Maskel her brother.”

They all fell silent, while Silvi stared at Tiff, who was grinning at Keelam across the firelight. Eventually Maskel stood up, stamping the cramp from his legs and stretching his arms.

“The hour is late!” he said, stifling a yawn. “Widow Sleff will be wondering where I’ve got to.”

Silvi looked up at him questioningly, and he smiled down at her. “Tonight I go hunting,” he explained. “I’m tracking a pair of villains who stole a goat from poor Widow Sleff. She expects their heads to be stuck on her fence by noon tomorrow.”

“But surely it’s too dark for hunting?” said Silvi.

Maskel shook his head. “The moon is high tonight, my young ranger friend. Has my sister not taught you how to track a prey in the darkness?”

“Not yet,” said Keelam.

Maskel leaned over to kiss Tiff on the cheek, while patting the head of Keb the blacksmith. “Take care of my dark jewel tonight, big fellow. Keep her warm, and keep those jackals away from her!”

Keelam frowned. “Still having trouble with the Pegler clan?”

Tiff gave a heavy sigh, and Maskel nodded. “Yes, little sister. Their chief has his mind set on stealing my lady and making her his concubine. Two of his sons sneaked into our camp last week and tried to kidnap Tiff while I was out hunting. Only the vigilance of Keb saved her from their evil clutches.”

“If they come tonight,” said Keelam, “they’ll have Silvi and me to deal with.”

“Good!” said Maskel. “And now farewell. Expect me in two days, if all goes well with Widow Sleff and her precious goat.”

With a bow to Silvi, he turned and stole away into the darkness, vanishing into the shadows beyond the wagon-circle. The others sat beside the fire for a while, until Tiff said: “I feel the night-chill in my bones. Let’s go into the wagon!”

************

The air within the wagon was warm and resin-scented, like the air inside a deep forest on a clear autumn evening. In the light of white candles the foursome sat cross-leeged on the pine-planked floor and talked of many things. Silvi supped Keb’s home-brewed ale until she became more than a little drunk, her customary shyness dissolving in a haze of giggles and slurred speech that the others found amusing. Keb downed numerous jugs of ale but his huge frame absorbed its effects, while Tiff merely sipped from a silver goblet. Keelam adhered to the surgeon’s advice and drank nothing but water.

“What do you think of this?” asked Tiff, opening a small square box that she laid on the floor. “Maskel took it from a bandit three nights ago. We can’t decipher the writing on it.”

She opened the box and revealed two large six-sided dice, one red, the other green, with a small hourglass. The dice were rolled in a sheet of vellum that bore a curious curling script, arranged in two columns of red and green ink.

Keelam peered closely at the vellum and at the writing on the lid of the box. “It’s an elvish script,” she said. “I have some knowledge of the language, though I read it better than I speak it. The writing on the lid says The Dice of Fate. The vellum page lists values for the scores of each dice, numbered one to six.” She suddenly gave a raucous laugh. “It’s an elvish sex-game!”

“A sex-game?” said Keb, furrowing his heavy dark brows. “I don’t understand.”

Keelam grinned. “It’s quite simple. Each player throws the dice and has to fulfil the ensuing task.”

“What tasks?” asked Silvi, refilling her own and Keb’s ale-mugs.

“The usual array of delightful deeds,” Keelam replied. “Fingers and tongues, mostly. Use your imagination, my friends!”

“Let’s play it!” Tiff suggested in a furtive whisper. Her hazel eyes gleamed mischievously as she glanced from face to face.

“Why not ?” said Keb, his smile broadening in hope and anticipation.

Keelam took a sip of water and shrugged. “Alright, we’ll play it. But first we need to establish some rules.”

Keb gave a knowing nod. “I understand, Keelam. You fear to play this game with a man, even a man such as I, who has been your friend since childhood.”

Keelam nodded. “You know me well enough, old comrade. I will not dance with any cock, no matter what the dice command me to do.”

Keb nodded. “Sweet little Kee! Am I not a man of honour?”

“You are,” she replied, grinning at the blacksmith. “But I have not forgotten how you used to pester me to share your bed. We were young in those days, Keb, but perhaps your lust still lingers?”

“Of course it does!” Keb replied. “And why not? For now you are more beautiful than ever, and I will always hope to snare you in my bed one day. But until that day comes I will honour the choice that you made long ago.”

“The day that you seek will never come,” said Keelam. “My bed is for women, and no man will ever share it. But nonetheless I do trust you, so do not fret on my behalf.”

“What do we have to do first?” Silvi inquired, her youthful inhibitions trampled by a drunken curiosity to see how far her companions would go.

Keelam traced her finger over the vellum, silently mouthing the elvish words. “All players must be naked,” she said. “Only then can the game begin.”

Keb sat up, licking his lips like a man preparing for a feast. “Well, my friends, I am already partly unclothed, for today I wear no shirt. But which of you women is bold enough to be the first to strip?”

Tiff rose to her feet with a gentle laugh and unbuttoned her white shirt, slipping it off her shoulders and casting it away. Quickly she wriggled out of the close-fitting grey trousers and flung them aside. Then she shook her hair, the dark mane flickering with red and gold as it brushed her bare shoulders. Silvi stared as if transfixed, fascinated by Tiff’s smooth brown skin as she stood naked and unashamed before her three companions. Both Keelam and Keb stared in silence, similarly fascinated by the sleek curves of Tiff’s slender body, although both had seen her naked many times before, as Silvi soon discovered.

“You’ve shaved again,” Keb observed, pointing to the hairless black-lipped slit between Tiff’s thighs. “It was not so last week, when last I slept in this wagon, but the sight pleases me greatly, as you know.”

“Maskel prefers me with a triangle of hair,” said Tiff, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “But I like to keep the customs of my people.”

“Good,” said Keb, standing up in ungainly fashion. His huge clumsy frame seemed to fill the wagon and he needed to stoop to avoid bumping his head on the rafters. Silvi gazed up at him, a nervous laugh quivering in her throat as she watched him step out of his brown leather trousers. She gave a sudden gasp of astonishment, not only at the sight of his powerful thighs, each of which equalled the girth of her tiny waist, but also at her first glimpse of his huge cockstem. The stiffening shaft seemed already to be thicker than her wrist.

“By the gods!” she hissed, unwittingly voicing her thoughts aloud.

Keb sat down beside her, grinning broadly, his manhood pulsing and swelling in his lap, his huge arms folded on his chest like those of an eager schoolboy awaiting instruction. He flashed a smile at Silvi, and she returned it, adding a small giggle when he nudged her gently in the ribs.

“Your turn next, Ranger Girl,” he whispered.

Even with her coyness muffled by so much ale, Silvi still felt her cheeks blushing when she rose to her feet. She felt acutely aware of her companions’ gaze as they waited for her to strip. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she took off the green shirt and skirt, but she covered her nakedness with her arms and sat down carefully. Tiff, sitting directly opposite, stared at her so keenly that Silvi averted her eyes.

“What is your age?” the dark woman inquired.

“Eighteen.”

Keb whistled through his teeth and a quiver of delight ran through his manhood. His huge erection now stood proudly in his lap, its shiny purple tip gleaming in the candlelight.

“Eighteen!” he echoed in a whisper. “She’s so young!”

Keelam stripped while remaining seated, tossing her buckskin dress into a far corner of the wagon. Keb leaned across Silvi to stare at the blonde warrior, who wrinkled her nose at him and mouthed a voiceless curse.

“It is ten years since I saw you naked,” he said. “And now I repeat the question that I asked you in those days. Tell me, Keelam, how does a body so small and slender carry a bosom so large and well-formed?”

“And I repeat the answer I gave you ten years ago,” Keelam replied. “Go and fuck yourself!”

Keb sat back laughing and reached for the dice. “As the only man in the game, I shall take the first turn.”

Grinning broadly, he shook the dice and rolled them onto the floor. “The green one shows a three,” he observed. “The red one a two. What does that mean, I wonder?”

Keelam peered at the vellum page and snorted. “Ha! You gain nothing at all. The rules say that the green die must score at least a four, or the throw is void.”

Keb glared sullenly at the dice. “That isn’t fair. Are you sure you’ve read the rules correctly?”

“Quite sure!” Keelam answered. “Now, give the dice to Tiff.”

The dark woman rolled the dice and stared across at Silvi while Keelam translated the score. Under Tiff’s searching gaze Silvi suddenly felt very shy and foolish. Slowly, with her face still blushing, she placed her arms in her lap, feeling conscious of her small breasts but determined to appear at ease with her nakedness.

“The red die scores a one,” Keelam announced. “That means a kiss. The green die scores a four, which signifies the person on your left.”

“So I have to kiss Keb?” Tiff asked, and Keelam nodded. Tiff leaned to her left and her mouth met Keb’s as he bent his head towards her. Keelam placed the hourglass on the floor and watched the white sand trickle down through the narrow neck.

“How long must they kiss?” Silvi inquired.

“Two minutes,” Keelam replied. “It’s the same for all the activities listed in the rules. Two minutes for each.”

The last grains of sand trickled away and Keelam called a halt to the kiss. Tiff sat back, wiping a long dark finger across her glistening lips. Keb chuckled to himself, gleefully rubbing his enormous hands.

“I like this game!” he said. “Who’s next?”

“Me,” Keelam replied, as she threw the dice.

“The green scores a four again,” Keb observed. “So I guess that means Tiff, the person on your left. But what about a five on the red?”

Keelam checked the list of rules and smiled. “Five on the red means a tongue fuck.”

Silvi began a nervous laugh but quickly muffled it with her hand. She watched in amazement as the brown-skinned woman lay back with her knees raised, unashamedly displaying her shaven cunt and the tight cleft of her buttocks. Keelam crawled to crouch between Tiff’s legs, her blonde mane swirling around her hunched shoulders, her firm ass-cheeks squirming as she made herself comfortable. Keb craned his neck to gain a better view of the action, and Silvi followed suit, her breath inhaling sharply when she saw Keelam’s tongue dart out to flick the dark-lipped hairless slit. Tiff’s body shuddered and she gave a soft moan, but then she lay in silence, her mouth smiling and her eyes closed, as the blonde gave her cunt an exquisite licking. The sight so aroused Silvi that she furtively touched her own crotch, feeling a hot flush as her finger stroked the soft hairs of her mound. She noticed Tiff’s dark nipples stiffening and felt a strange drunken urge to kiss them. Out of the corner of one eye she saw Keb slowly rubbing his foreskin back and forth. He winked at her and grinned, seeming unconcerned about masturbating openly in the presence of a stranger.

Keb gave a sigh of frustration when the sand ceased to trickle through the hourglass. “The two minutes are over, my friends. Just when things were getting interesting!”

Keelam raised her head and licked her lips. “I’d forgotten how delicious you taste,” she whispered to Tiff.

She crawled slowly back to her place beside Silvi, while Tiff sat up, her eyes gazing dreamily around the wagon. Keelam took a deep breath and handed the dice to Silvi, who hesitated briefly, before hurling them onto the floor.

“Green Six,” Keb reported. “And Red Two.”

“Six on the green is the person sitting opposite,” Keelam explained. “A two on the red is a fuck.”

“Silvi fucks Tiff!” said Keb. “This game gets better by the minute.”

“What kind of fuck?” asked Silvi, trying to drown her remaining inhibitions with another mouthful of ale.

Keelam shrugged. “Just a fuck, I reckon. Cunt to cunt.”

“Let’s try it!” said Tiff, shuffling across on her buttocks and splaying her legs. She twisted her body slightly, lifting her ass off the floor and resting on her right side with her left leg in the air and the knee bent. Even through a drunken haze Silvi realised what the dark-skinned woman hoped to achieve, and she obliged by sliding her ass along Tiff’s right leg until their cunts met in a moist, intimate kiss. The unusual sensation made Silvi cry out with delight, the cries continuing as Tiff began grinding her dark cunt against the girl’s soft pink flesh.

“Hell’s Teeth!” hissed Keb, as he rubbed his huge erection furiously. “Was there ever a more beautiful sight?”

White sand trickled through the neck of the hourglass, even as glistening juices oozed from the tightly-clasped cunts of Tiff and Silvi. Their fucking made a squelching noise whose rhythm was punctuated by gasps and moans and soft whispers. Silvi felt a delicate orgasm rising in her body, even as the final grain of sand dropped through the neck.

“The two minutes are ended,” Keelam announced. “Return to your places, my friends. It’s the blacksmith’s turn again.”

Tiff and Silvi were most reluctant to halt their lovemaking and obeyed Keelam’s command only after she playfully pinched their buttocks. Silvi wiped sweat from her brow as she sat between Keelam and Keb, but her eyes remained fixed on Tiff, who returned the stare intently.

Keb rolled the dice. “Green Six again,” he announced. “And a six on the red, too!”

“Six on the green?” said Silvi. “I think that means Keelam, the player sitting opposite.”

Keelam scanned the vellum page and gave a groan. “Damnation! A six on the red is a finger in the ass!”

The others laughed, and Keb clapped his hands triumphantly. “A fine score! But will Maskel’s clit-licking sister permit it?”

Keelam growled a curse and turned around, crouching forward on her knees and raising her buttocks. “Just do it!” she muttered. “But be sure to wet your finger first.”

Keb licked his forefinger and crawled over to kneel behind Keelam. He seemed like a giant leaning over a tiny blonde child. Grinning broadly, he probed between her buttocks and wormed his finger into the cleft, searching for the crinkled hole. Silvi watched in growing terror, feeling certain that his finger was too big. It certainly seemed longer and thicker than any finger she had ever seen. She wondered how a woman so small as Keelam could accommodate such a monstrous digit, but then with a smile she recalled that her own two fingers had reamed Keelam’s rear passage with ease on the previous night.

With his free hand the blacksmith masturbated slowly and leisurely, savouring the pleasure of exploring the asshole of a female whose beauty he had admired for twenty years. Keelam’s face remained impassive, devoid of expression.

“Is the hourglass empty?” she inquired hopefully, twisting her head to look up at Silvi.

The young ranger shook her head. “Not yet. Another thirty seconds.’

When the two minutes were over, Keb withdrew his finger and crept back to his place, his huge cock now so engorged that the veins along its shaft seemed ready to burst. Keelam winced as she turned around to sit up, muttering under her breath. Keb looked at her, but his face was troubled.

“Have I hurt you, my dear one?” he asked.

Keelam said nothing in reply but instead gave a faint smile, reassuring the blacksmith that their old friendship remained intact.

“And now it’s Tiff’s turn,” she said, rolling the dice to the dark-skinned woman.

Tiff looked across at Silvi and smiled as she threw the dice, scoring a three on the green and a four on the red.

“Void!” said Keelam. “Anything less than a four on the green is a blank score.”

Tiff shrugged, handing the dice back to Keelam, who gave them a thorough shake before tossing them onto the floor.

“Six on the green,” she observed, clicking her tongue in dismay. “That means Keb again.”

“The red scores a one,” the blacksmith reported eagerly. “What reward does that bring?”

“A kiss,” Keelam answered.

Keb looked disappointed. “Only a kiss? Are you sure?”

Keelam nodded, and with a grin she crawled over to him and placed her arms around his thick neck, like a child hugging a tree. Keb’s big hands clasped her narrow waist, his fingertips meeting at the base of her spine as he held her close. Her large breasts pressed firmly against his chest, the sensation making him groan with pleasure.

“Be careful!” she whispered, gently chastising him as she felt the tip of his cock prodding her cunt-lips.

“Sorry, Kee!” he replied hastily. “It was purely an accident, I swear!”

The kiss began, while Silvi guarded the hourglass. She watched in amazement as Keelam’s embrace grew more passionate, her kissing more urgent. When the two minutes ended, the little blonde withdrew suddenly, her mouth gasping, her blue eyes shining as a wide grin curled across her face.

“Your cheeks are pink, Kee,” Tiff observed with a knowing smile. “Can it be that you actually enjoyed the blacksmith’s kiss?”

Keelam returned to her place, still breathless. “He kisses like a girl,” she replied.

“I thank you for the compliment, my friend,” said Keb. “But I fear that it is twenty years too late.”

Keelam laughed, handing the dice to Silvi, who rolled a two on the green. “Another void score,” she said, as Keb refilled her ale-mug. She gave him the dice and drank deeply as he took his throw.

“Green Four, the person on your left,” said Keelam, checking the score against the page of rules. “Red Three is a tongue in the ass.”

“Who? Me?” Silvi inquired, giving a small belch.

Keb moved closer to her, his eyes twinkling with excitement. His huge fingers tugged gently at her ponytail, toying with the black ribbon.

“Bend over, Ranger Girl,” he whispered. “Let me see that cute litle ass!”

Silvi obliged by kneeling on all fours like a dog, parting her thighs and wriggling her small buttocks in the blacksmith’s enormous hands. He knelt forward, planting a gentle kiss on each buttock before holding them apart to expose the cleft between them. The girl’s puckering asshole blinked at him like a pink eye.

“Gods!” hissed Silvi, when she felt the tip of Keb’s tongue touching her hole. The first tickle mellowed to a pleasurable tingling as the tongue licked slowly around the hole, and she gave a soft moan in response. Keb grunted his delight as his tongue explored the sensitive skin inside the cleft of her ass, his nostrils flaring at the musky odours that greeted his senses. His cock throbbed in his lap and he felt that the slightest touch of his hand would pitch it into orgasm.

The hourglass emptied too quickly for Keb, and he sat back on his haunches, gritting his teeth in frustration as he watched Silvi crawl back to her place. She gave him a beaming smile that almost drove him to snatch her up in his arms and carry her off to his own wagon, but he restrained the urge and responded with a polite nod of gratitude.

Tiff had meanwhile thrown the dice, rolling yet another void score. “No luck for me tonight,” she complained, as Keelam prepared to take her turn.

“Green Four again,” said Silvi. “Is that Tiff?”

Keelam nodded. “It is. And a four also on the red.” She referred to the vellum sheet and chuckled. “You spoke too soon, Tiff. My throw has turned the game in your favour, for now I must give you a finger fuck.”

“That sounds better!” said Tiff, as once more she stretched out on her back with her knees raised. Again she presented the others with a fine view of her dark shaven slit, its lips still glistening with Silvi’s cunt-juice. Keelam knelt between her legs and began fingering the slit, her gentle touch making Tiff writhe on the floor like a brown snake. Silvi sat watching in silence, her throat feeling dry as her eyes feasted on the sight of Tiff’s sleek dark body being expertly pleasured. She felt envious of Keelam and desperately wanted to take her place. Beside her Keb grunted as he worked his cock to the very brink of ejaculation.

Before the two minutes were over, Keelam’s fingering coaxed Tiff to a gentle orgasm that shuddered through her limbs, making her spine arch and bringing a deep gasp from her throat. In the soft yellow candlelight she seemed to Silvi like a beautiful brown cat, the more so when she lay purring as Keelam withdrew her finger.

Keelam saw the dreamy expression on the young ranger’s face and prodded her in the ribs. “Your turn, comrade,” she whispered.

Recalling her senses, Silvi threw the dice, scoring a five on both. Keelam shook her head and laughed.

“It’s you again, Keb,” she announced. “Poor Silvi has to give you a mouth fuck.”

“Praise the gods!” said the blacksmith, slapping his knees in glee. He leaned back, sitting with his legs spread wide while supporting his torso on his arms.

Silvi drained her ale-mug and took a deep breath, before crawling to crouch like a kitten between the blacksmith’s mighty thighs. As soon as her right hand gripped the base of his erection he gave a shuddering groan and clenched his teeth.

Silvi lifted the huge shaft upright, feeling its weight and staring almost fearfully at its monstrous length and girth. With her left hand she drew the foreskin as far back as it would stretch, smiling when she heard the blacksmith whimper like a child. She had performed this task many times on the smaller manhood of her betrothed, so she knew what was required of her lips and tongue. Taking another deep breath she lowered her head.

Keb cried out when he felt the girl’s soft warm mouth enclose the aching bulbous tip of his cockstem, the cry dwindling to plaintive moans as her tongue slicked over it. Her right hand gently squeezed the lower part of the shaft, the fingers of her left caressing the sensitive skin on the underside of his scrotum. The pounding of his heart throbbed in his ears, muffling his senses so that he failed to hear Keelam’s laugh and the words she spoke to Tiff: “He’ll never last the full two minutes!”

The prediction turned out to be true, for the sand in the hourglass was still trickling fast when Keb’s orgasm rolled over him like a drowning wave. Throwing back his head he gasped, ejaculating with a yell of delight into Silvi’s mouth, the first jet of juice spattering the back of her throat and almost choking her. Bravely she kept her lips clasped around the twitching shaft, her tongue continuing to tease the cockhead as it spasmed against her teeth. So copious was his ejaculation that she struggled to swallow every drop, the overspill dribbling down her chin in a sticky white trail.

Keb lay back with a long sigh of satisfaction and closed his eyes. Silvi withdrew her mouth, letting his softening shaft droop on his thigh. The flaccid and lifeless cockstem glistened with her saliva, while beads of hot semen still oozed from its tip.

Silvi returned to her place beside Keelam, who touched the girl’s chin with her forefinger, wiping away a sticky white gobbet of cock-juice. Silvi smiled and picked up the Dice of Fate.

“Your turn again, Tiff,” she said.

But the brown-skinned woman shook her head and pointed to Keb. “I think we’ve lost one of our foursome, so perhaps the game is now over?”

Silvi saw that the blacksmith had fallen asleep, a grin still curling across his mouth. She chuckled, exchanging smiles with Keelam and Tiff. Keelam took the dice and wrapped them in the vellum sheet, before returning them to their box with the hourglass.

“The game is indeed ended,” she said. “For we three do not need dice or rules to guide our path in the night.”

Silvi frowned, her ale-soaked mind wrestling with the words as she sought their true meaning. But Tiff understood them. Like a dark cat she crawled slowly over to Keelam and planted a kiss on the blonde’s lips.

“That big ox was supposed to protect me tonight,” she said. “My bed was to be his guardhouse, and my body the payment for his vigilance. He’ll be angry with himself if he misses it, for I give him few opportunities to fuck me.”

Keelam reached out and caressed Tiff’s hair, running her fingers through the red-streaked raven mane. “Fear not, my dear dark one! Tonight you shall enjoy the protection of two valiant warrior women. But we expect the same reward that was set aside for the blacksmith.”

With a smile Tiff turned to Silvi and stroked the girl’s left breast with a smooth brown finger. Silvi gave a sharp gasp and her eyes widened in delight.

Tiff stood up, offering her hands to the two warrior women as they rose to their feet. “Come, my friends,” she said. “Follow me to the bedchamber. Let Keb sleep the night away in peace. And later, maybe, we three shall also close our eyes.”

“But not yet!” said Keelam, licking her lips in anticipation.

Tiff turned and led them towards a partitioned room at the rear of the wagon. “Not yet,” she added, squeezing Silvi’s hand as they left the snoring blacksmith to his dreams.

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The Dice of Fate. Copyright © 2004 Trisha Monks. Return to Stories List