Elise Olisbos (c) 2013 | email: eliseolisbos@yahoo.com
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------------------------------

Title: Old Habits
Author: Elise Olisbos
Keywords/Codes: futa/female, fantasy, first person narrative
Summary: A thief is hired by a village to recover their kidnapped
princess.
Notes: I finished this as a little gift for the F3 boards, for
putting up with the FP refugees during a site outage a few days
ago. If it's one story I can say is my favourite, it's this one.




Hey, listen: this is the story of how I was sent to retrieve a
trinket, and, like some wet-behind-the-ears shit-face, got caught
at it. I like to think it's a good story, because I'm the best
storyteller in the East. I used to be the best thief in the East,
but that was a lifetime ago.

But keep an eye on your pockets, friend. Old habits, and all
that.

----

The city of the Dosjin, Tolmarak, was an ogre-built fortress: all
massive slabs of grey ironstone wedged together so tightly that
an ant couldn't fart comfortably. The thing about ogre-built
structures is that they're far more accommodating on the inside
than they appear on the outside. They just look like that to
drive away everyone except the brave…or the foolhardy.

My mam always told me that out of her thirty-two offspring, I was
the most stupid. Maybe that's why the city didn't look so bad to
me. It was either that or the fact that I grew up in a stronghold
built by ogres, and still occupied by them. Half-ogre, that's me.
I know, the grey skin is a dead giveaway, but the pointy ears?
The all-black eyes? The lack of tusks? I got those traits
courtesy of my elven father. He was what they call a shadow-elf,
one of the crazy types. Who else would think it was a great idea
to fuck an ogress twice his size? On top of that, he was a
flighty asshole; as soon as he knocked up my mam, he was out of
there like a hut on fire.

She claimed I took after him. Never could keep still, and always
managing to melt into the shadows when I stole some food or broke
some of her pottery. I couldn't help it, that's just what
shadow-elves do: take things, especially if they're really shiny,
and then use their magic of concealment. What kind of magic?
Well, take shadows, for example. Shadows have a lot more
potential than most people think and shadow-elves, better than
anyone else, know how to manipulate them properly.

I wasn't too concerned about getting into Tolmarak, but the man
beside me seemed pretty anxious. We crouched behind the scraggly
bushes, watching the activity at the massive front entrance. It
was made of two parts: a pair of mighty wooden doors, which were
currently standing open, and a long drawbridge which crossed a
moat filled with brackish water. Now and again, the dark water
would ripple as the spiky fin of some smallish dragon broke the
surface. All kinds of people streamed in and out; I saw a few
fauns, some sea-elves, flittering fae, and even a cantering herd
of centaurs. It was barely past dawn, and yet Tolmarak was
already wide-awake.

"Are you sure you can get in?" The man beside me asked. His name
was Marce, and he was the 'prince' of the village that had hired
me for this job. I glanced at him and shrugged.

"It's not barricaded," I pointed out, getting to my feet and
adjusting my oft-repaired cloak. "I'll just walk right in."

He stood up as well. He was tall for a human, but I was slightly
taller. I suppose he and I were the same age, but the lines in
his brow made him appear far older than twenty winters.

"But they might be keeping Marchel locked up in a special place,"
Marce said, wringing his hands together and blinking rapidly.
"Are you sure?"

I got a little irritated, I must admit. I scowled at him, tossing
my long braid over my shoulder. The messy black hair tickled the
back of my neck.

"Look, are you sure?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest.
"You know who you're talking to, right? I'm Ruzhyll Delance."

"I know your name," he answered, frowning in return. "No need to
repeat it."

"Obviously I need to, 'cause you seem to be forgetting who I am.
Who did the Red Legion call when they wanted to swipe the crown
jewels from the Talon?"

"You," Marce said, through his blackened, contorted teeth. "So
they say."

I narrowed my eyes. "They're damned right, too. And who stole
that talking harp from the Giant in Cloud Forest?"

"You," Marce said, even more reluctantly than before. "All the
same, I hope you're worth your deposit."

"You better hope you have the rest of my payment ready when I get
back your sister," I said, stepping over the bushes. "Or else I
burn down your whole village."

Marce let out an incredulous scoff, and I could understand why.
I'm tall, but as skinny as a broomstick, with a narrow face to
match; I have a serviceable pair of tits, nice and firm, but
overall I look like I can hardly light a match. I've been told
that my eyes are my most striking feature: a bit larger than
those seen on a pureblood elf and tipped up at the outer corners.
Apart from that, I suppose I don't look like much of a threat.

I stopped walking, and snapped my fingers, concentrating very
hard. With some satisfaction, I watched as blue flame erupted on
my fingertips. Not very big, because I don't have that kind of
power; but Marce's village has a lot of thatched roofs. Very
flammable.

"Like I said," I told him very quietly as I looked over my
shoulder. "I retrieve your kidnapped princess, you give me the
rest of my money."

"Fine," he said, and he sneered as he folded his arms over his
chest. "Get to work, half-breed."

If that was the best he could come up with, I felt kind of sorry
for the future of his village. After all, any sensible
village-head would demand a bond-gift from the Dosjinni for their
stolen girl, but most full-blooded humans hated the Dosjin. I
shook the flame from my fingers, and pulled the large cowl of my
cloak over my head, putting my face into shadow. I felt my
natural magic unfurl lazily and deepen those shadows, effectively
shielding my sharp features from any close inspection. If
necessary, I could do a quick glamour, but like the blue flames,
that was magic I had to work hard for. It took a lot of energy
out of me.

I walked right up to the end of the drawbridge, melting in easily
with the busy in-going crowd. I even managed to slip my fingers
into a few purses, earned seven silver coins, twelve copper and
five gold. Not bad for a five-minute walk.

The city was big, but it was easy to figure out where a captive
princess would be held. A tower, of course, and for its great
size, Tolmarak had but one: a massive spire rising right in the
centre of the bustling town. It took me half a day to get to it,
and on the way I saw more and more Dosjinni: tall warriors
dressed in battle-armour, weaponry slung over their backs or worn
low on their hips. The spire stood in the middle of a great
stone-paved plaza, the main roads of the city radiating from it
like spokes on a great wheel. The other buildings ringed the
edges of the plaza at a respectful distance.

At the steps of the tower, I peered up the wide flight. A group
of Dosjin stood at the top, chattering companionably; they seemed
to be returning from patrol. One of them turned their head,
looked straight at me, and I felt a jolt rush through my body.
She had dark brown skin, pale grey eyes, and curly black hair
cropped short. Her nose turned up ever so slightly at the tip,
and her chin was softly rounded; they served as an interesting
contrast to the sharpness of her gaze and the heavy shape of her
eyebrows. Like the majority of Dosjin, she was built tall and
strong: a whole head taller than me. She wore form-fitting
armour, covering every inch of skin. Pity; I would have loved to
see if her tits were as impressive as the rest of her.

She kept staring at me, and I decided to take a direct route.
Pulling back my cowl, I smiled up at her, invitingly. She smiled
back and, look, you hear people talk about love at first sight,
that's shit.

However, there's always lust.

I climbed the stairs, putting a great deal of swagger into my
walk. The other Dosjin, noting the fixed expression of the one
still gazing, all turned to watch as well, but I barely noted
them in the periphery of my vision. I couldn't seem to shift my
stare from her. When I finally got to them, I executed a fanciful
greeting: twirl of hand, deep sweep of arm into a bow. When I
straightened, they all had similar amused expression on their
faces.

"Greetings, ye mighty of Tolmarak! I am Zorn the Amazing and
Amusing," I told them, giving one of my many aliases. "I offer my
services to you, at a special cost!"

They dipped their heads in reply to my exorbitant bow; for a race
of ruthless fighters, I've found that the Dosjin are deeply
courteous when not in battle.

"What kind of services?" My Dosjinni asked, her tone low. She had
a massive, curved sword strapped to her back. I didn't let my
gaze stray too close in that direction; it seemed sharp enough to
slice my eyeballs out just for looking.

"General entertainment, Jiyio. Minor trickery and the like," I
said, sidling close to her. She smelled like weapon-oil and
animal rawhide, and I picked the deep musk of her sweat. She
laughed, a pleasantly deep sound, and I hoped my pronunciation
hadn't been too awful. I knew a number of simple Dosjin words and
phrases; Jiyio was one of the few I could pronounce without
insulting someone's mother. I think it was a noble title of some
sort, like Lady or Duke.

"I am no Jiyio, my dear Zorn," she said, and her companions
agreed with hard laughter. "You may call me Isthar."

"Isthar," I purred, going even closer to rest my palm lightly on
her chestplate. She glanced down at my hand and then looked up,
her gaze hot as it raked over my face. As far as I knew, the only
type of magic most Dosjinni possessed was the innate kind which
aided them in fighting, and occurred to them as natural as
breathing; they didn't deal with direct forms of magic, like
curses and charms. Yet, I felt a powerful compulsion to just lie
back, spread my legs like a reckless succubus and let her stab
her tongue deep into my dampening sex. I parted my lips and one
side of her generous mouth quirked up in response.

"Come, then," Isthar said and just like that, I was in.

----

Nothing like a Dosjin party, I tell you. Tables of steaming food,
barrels of drink potent enough to melt your face and lots of soft
surfaces to fuck on, if you wanted. I did have a show: Zorn the
Amazing and Amusing had some talent with tricks and song, and I
easily held the attention of the Dosjin warriors. They laughed
and roared with laughter at my lewd jokes, and I have to admit
that I enjoyed myself. I don't mind having the attention of a
crowd focused on me; that's probably more from my ogre side.
Shadow elves are secretive as fuck.

Near the end of my show, the huge wooden doors at the back of the
grand hall swung open and a Dosjinni of great stature strolled
in. He was huge, even among his own people. His black hair fell
in long waves over his shoulder, a thick sheaf that fell almost
to his waist. He had a wide brow, deep-set grey eyes and a broad
jaw. The overall effect was one of brooding mystery, especially
with his brown skin, dark like the polished rare wood imported
from the eastern borders. He wore thick furs over his broad
shoulders and his dark clothing had gilt edges.

A large silver amulet hung against his chest. My fingers itched
to swipe it, but he'd probably break my hand as soon as I reached
for the shiny thing. I've heard that certain Dosjinni can move
faster than a blink.

A human woman walked beside the big Dosjinni, her arms folded
into the large sleeves of her fancy blue gown. She was tiny
beside him, the top of her head barely reaching the middle of his
thick bicep. She possessed curves that were probably illegal in
some of the more conservative areas; the neckline of her gown
plunged almost all the way to her bellybutton, exposing the inner
curves of her breasts. She had lovely brown eyes, a heart-shaped
face and a tumble of shiny black curls set against the soft amber
of her skin. This was Marchel,the kidnapped princess; I knew her
by the thin collar of tattoos inked into the skin of her neck
which Marce had described. Though there was a vague resemblance
between the two of them, it was hard to believe this sweet-faced
girl was his twin.

As I continued to amaze and amuse, I watched as the Dosjinni led
Marchel over to one of the seating areas, a low table surrounded
by fluffy piles of pillows. Marchel didn't seem as terrified as
Marce insisted she would be; she actually offered a small smile
to the Dosjinni as they settled down together. Isthar appeared
out of nowhere behind them, bending to murmur in the male's ear.
Her armour was gone, and she wore a loose, long-sleeved blouse
and trousers. Isthar's gaze flickered up to me. She offered a
small smile and I almost forgot what I was supposed to be doing;
mostly because I could see right down the front of her blouse
when she bent over like that, and her tits were fantastic: big
and round, topped with dark nipples that looked as if they'd fit
nicely in my mouth.

I struggled to regain my composure as she straightened up. A show
was a show, after all. Keeping up a string of idle chatter, I
picked my way over to Marchel and her companion.

"And now, for my final act!" I held my arms out to her. Marchel
blinked up at me, before glancing at the Dosjinni beside her.

"Viosthar, is it safe?" she asked in a quiet manner. I stared at
her, surprised. Her tone was very trusting, and she addressed him
as if she expected him to ensure her well-being.

"It is, soheen." His voice was a confident rumble, and he smiled
at her as he said that weird little Dosjin word; it had a nice
ring to it, that word. I resolved to learn the meaning of it
before I snatched this girl and returned her to her village. In
the middle of my resolution, Viosthar turned his grey gaze on me,
and the threat in it was very readable: this trick of yours WILL
be safe. I hoped my expression was calm and soothing, but I have
to admit I was a little rattled. It seemed as if the enormity of
stealing a princess from underneath the collective nose of the
Dosjin suddenly settled on my shoulders, but I threw it off. I'd
get the job done, and my reputation would be so damned shiny, I'd
probably have to steal it from myself.

Marchel gave me a very dubious glance, but she held her slender
arms out to me.

"Sit right there," I told her as I grasped her forearms and let
my magic seep out into the room, seeking out the shadows hidden
under alcoves and in the ceiling. "Don't move."

See, there are many things people don't know about shadows. For
example, shadows have characteristics specific to the person or
thing they belong to. I can't explain it, it's like a sensation
or a scent...or maybe both at once. All I know is that once I
touch your shadow, I can find it again within a certain radius
and time-frame. And if I can find your shadow, I can find you.

Another example: shadows have a tangibility which can be
manipulated by shadow-elves, and I did that now, pulling them
close to me and piling them under Marchel's bottom. She let out a
surprised little sound as she rose up in the air, supported by
nothing but wispy darkness. She laughed, looking down at Viosthar
with shining eyes and the other warriors in the room released out
loud cheers. I grinned as I gave the command for her to be
returned to her spot; at the same time, I touched those shadows
nestled in the crook of her elbows, memorising the particulars.

The crowd of Dosjin hollered as Marchel floated back down to her
place. When I released her arms, she clapped very
enthusiastically.

"That was wonderful!" she exclaimed and leaned into Viosthar's
side, staring up at me with a broad smile. "Do you have any more
tricks?"

"I am finished for now, for it is quite late," I told her, noting
the way Viosthar put his arm around her shoulders, very gently
for his apparent strength. "But if I am allowed, I will present
more tomorrow!"

Marchel turned to Viosthar, one small hand twisting into the furs
he wore. "I would like to see more. May the entertainer stay?"

Viosthar's arm tightened very slightly and then relaxed. "Of
course. Isthar?" He turned a little, not quite looking over his
shoulder. Isthar stepped forward. "Place the entertainer in our
guest quarters."

"As you wish, Jiyio," Isthar answered and looked at me with what
seemed to be contemplative amusement. "If you would follow me,
Zorn."

I trotted behind her as we exited the great hall and down a
corridor, tall and wide. Small torches lit the way at regular
intervals, firelight branding the stone walls. Despite the
attempt at lighting, this spire had lots of shadows, and I nodded
to myself in satisfaction.

"Isthar, what does soheen mean?" I had to race to keep up with
her; even though I was almost as tall and my stride should have
matched hers, she moved like a swift breeze down the corridor. I
was at a jog when I spoke, and my voice emerged breathlessly. She
glanced at me, quirked one sweeping eyebrow and slowed her pace
drastically.

"It means…" She wrinkled her nose for a moment. "It has many
meanings, mostly endearments. 'Darling' or 'lovely'. It's a very
old word, though. Powerful."

Interesting. "And is Viosthar your brother?" I grinned as she
gave me a very long look out of the corner of her eye.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"It's all a part of my natural curiosity," I claimed, eyes wide
in an attempt at guilelessness. "They're harmless questions,
though. Much like me."

Isthar huffed, but answered: "Yes, he is my brother. As the
first-born of the Dosjin sovereignty, he is the Jiyio. Not me."
She stopped at a place where the corridor split into two: one
path led onwards at the same level; the other climbed the
sweeping curve of a wide staircase. She inclined her head to the
smaller corridor. "The guest quarters are this way."

I reached out and grasped her elbow. "One more question," I said,
stepping near. Her skin was warm under my fingers. "Are you
really going to send me to the guest-rooms, and not take me to
bed?"

I was close enough to see the narrow, vertical pupils of her eyes
widen to almost completely consume the grey of her irises. The
smile that spread across Isthar's mouth was predatory.

"Let's see how amazing and amusing you really are, then," she
murmured, gripping my hand and pulling me towards the stairs.

----

Isthar shoved me against the wooden door of her private room as
soon as she dragged me in. I managed to unhook the strap of my
travelling pouch and let it drop to the floor just as my back hit
the timber. She grasped my chin and kissed me, groaning into my
mouth as I shifted one thigh to push against her crotch and slung
the other leg around her hip. She rocked against my thigh and I
jerked back from the kiss with a surprised gasp.

"You have a little something extra, I see," I said,
half-accusing, half-teasing. Her soft laughter puffed against my
lips before she kissed me again, her tongue swirling into my
mouth. Her hands gripped at my bottom, holding me in place as she
ground what felt like a massive prick against my leg. I pulled
back, panting. "I thought you were female. Your face--" I stroked
her jaw, enjoying the feel of her shadows. To me, the shape of
her face seemed more feminine, what with the slant of her
cheekbones and her full lips.

"For a Dosjinni, there is no such thing as 'extra'," she said,
pulling back. I shuddered at the loss of contact. My nipples were
hard enough to drill through the stone wall surrounding us, and
my pussy felt as if it was dripping. She smiled as if she knew
how wet I already was. "I tried being fully male last year.
Didn't like it too much.You may think of me as mostly female, if
that's of any importance to you."

"I admire that kind of flexibility," I told her as she pulled me
towards the fur-covered bed in the middle of the small room. She
yanked off my cloak, the shirt made of a rough weave and my loose
trousers, tossing them to one side. She laughed a little at my
drawers; they were old-fashioned and a shade of pink that used to
be red, but I liked them because my mother had made them for me.
Well, she'd made them for someone, and I'd stolen them before
leaving my childhood home. I like to think that my mam left them
out on purpose.

Isthar knelt before me, undoing the lace of my drawers and
letting the soft material drift down my legs. I stood naked
before her in all my slender glory; I raised my hands and gave my
tits a firm squeeze, looking down into her lust-blown eyes. I'm
sure my smile was very smug, for she got to her feet and pushed
me, hard. I tumbled back onto the soft furs with a disgruntled
cry, legs sprawling open as I struggled to right myself.

"You--!" My complaint dissolved into a needy moan as her hot
tongue ran a hot, wet stripe between the lips of my pussy. I
grabbed onto the sides of her head, twitching my hips almost
helplessly. Isthar actually laughed, and the sound seemed to
vibrate right through my clit. She grasped my wrists and pinned
them down at my sides, Her grasp felt as if it could snap my
bones, but she didn't squeeze too hard,even as her tongue swirled
and jabbed inside me.

It was better than I ever had, and I've had a lot. My body hummed
under her touch. Every time she fluttered her tongue rapidly
against my pussy-lips, or gently tapped my clit, I arched my back
and begged, trying to get more of her tongue. I writhed and tried
to free my wrists, but her hold was unrelenting.

I let out a stream of breathless, nonsensical pleas. "Isthar," I
begged, only vaguely aware of what I was saying. "Please, soheen.
Come up here and fuck me."

Isthar reared up as if I had kicked her in the face. Considering
that my legs had been draped over her shoulders, that situation
wasn't an impossibility. Her lips were shiny, smeared with my
juices and her spit.

"What did you call me?" she asked, staring down at me with an odd
expression. I blinked, my mind still in a haze.

"I...what?"

Her lips pressed together briefly, and she shook her head. She
sat back on her heels between my spread legs. I sat up as she
pulled off her shirt, and I didn't wait for an invitation: I
reached out and cupped her tits almost reverently. The grey skin
of my hands contrasted nicely against the smooth brown of her
skin, and I leaned forward to suckle on one nipple. Isthar hissed
as I bit it lightly and then licked around the hard, thick teat.
I pulled back, gazing up at her as I switched to the other tit,
flicking my tongue against the crinkled flesh.

"Good girl." she murmured, undoing my braid and running her
fingers through my long hair. I closed my eyes and sucked a
little harder, reaching into her trousers to fondle her cock. It
was hot in my hand, and hard, but the skin was delightfully soft.
I stroked it a few times, using my thumb to smear around the
pre-cum oozing from her slit. I enjoyed the huge length of it,
and fondled the heavy balls. I'd never had another dick so big in
me, and I shook with eagerness.

Isthar pulled my hand away with a grimace, as if in pain. "Lie
back, Zorn," she said and shoved down her trousers, taking them
off. I nearly said who's Zorn, and just barely managed to keep my
mouth shut on that one. For a free surprisingly agonizing beats,
I debated telling her my real name. I'm called Lujankir Ruzhyll
Delance, I would say. Lujankir from my mother. It means Small
One. Ogres don't usually share the names their mothers gave them,
unless it's a special situation, like a spell to quell a demon or
to build wards…or to share with a special person.

Her gaze remained fixed on me as I did as she asked, but I
couldn't help go up on my elbows to watch her grip her cock at
the thick root of it. I inhaled deeply; the deep, sharp smell of
her, no doubt helped by the thick thatch of dark hair at her
crotch, was intoxicating.. She gave her thick dick a few slow
pumps, and I felt my cunt spasm in anticipation at each pull of
her hand. She crawled over me and I spread my legs even wider,
wanton and panting as she rubbed the flared head right between my
wide cunt-lips. I wrapped my legs around her hips and tried to
pull her in, but she braced one hand at the side of my head and
resisted, laughing.

"So impatient, Zorn," she murmured, pushing into me at an
agonizingly slow rate. My breathing quickened, for her cock was
so thick that it stretched me almost to the point of pain. It was
a snug fit, almost too tight. As she pulled back it felt as if my
insides tugged in her wake. That prick of hers emerged from
between my cunt-lips, darkly shining with our mingled essence.
Isthar shoved back up into me, faster than before and with a low
grunt as my inner walls clenched around her throbbing pole.

I clamped one hand over my mouth, stifling my high-pitched
whimpers as she thrust into me over and over again; both of her
hands gripped the furs on either side of my head as she pounded
my pussy. Sweat beaded along the places our skin touched,
spreading damply. Her nutsack slapped against my skin, and the
feel of it drove me wild.

"Move your hand," Isthar gritted out and I shook my head. I
didn't like being loud, even during a nice fuck. Abruptly, she
pulled out of me and before I could cry out in protest, I found
myself flipped over: ass in the air, cheek planted into the
bedcovers. Isthar worked quickly: she seized my wrists and held
my arms behind my back with one hand, buried her cock back into
my hungry snatch and gripped the back of my neck with the other
hand. She held me in place as she went back to plundering my
tender insides.

I heard someone shouting hoarsely, cursing and begging at once.
Apparently, that someone was me: "Isthar, fuck! Nnnngg, harder.
Harder!" I sobbed as I tried to wriggle out of her relentless
hold, but she didn't release me. I think that if I clearly asked
her to let me go, she would have; but it felt so good to be
pinned down, her prick battering my snatch as I tried to free
myself.

"Isthar, yes! Oh--oh--I'm cumming--" I didn't have any more space
for coherence. My toes curled up as pure sensation radiated from
my core and spread to all parts of me. I moaned her name as I
thrashed within her grasp. She held still for a few moments as I
shook apart, impaled on her rampant pole. The furs rubbed against
my erect nipples and that sensation added to the pleasure-filled
moment. Isthar released my wrists and grabbed my hips. Weakly, I
moaned and barely managed to grip the bed-covers as her rhythm
dissolved into wild bucking. With a final, harsh thrust, she went
rigid.

Isthar's load flooded me with shocking warmth. I twitched feebly,
startled at the quantity of it: It didn't seem to stop, and I
heard her grunt with every pulsation of her cock. Some of her
release seeped out of me, even though her prick still plugged my
hole.

She sighed as her spent cock slipped out of my cunt and a gush of
cum spewed out after her, splattering on my thighs. Exhausted, I
slumped over to lie on my side, kicking out irritably as she
stroked at my over-sensitive labia, smearing around the sloppy
mess even more.

"I'll stay here for the rest of the night," I told her, grabbing
one of the many fluffy skins covering the bed and wiping at the
spend between my legs in the most perfunctory way. Throwing the
fur in an arbitrary direction, I reached up to sling my arm
around her neck and pull her close. Isthar shifted us around
until we lay with our arms around each other, my leg thrown over
her hip.

I found myself stroking the curve of her ribs, and placing quick
kisses on her collarbone and shoulders, drowsy and well-fucked.

"Sleep, soheen," she muttered, and how easy it was to follow her
voice into slumber.

----

I woke up about two hours before sunrise, and found that I'd
rolled to the edge of the bed. I blinked the sleep out of my
eyes, ignoring the sharp twinge in my thighs as I got up. I
glanced over at Isthar's prone form; she lay with one hand
stretched out in my direction. She shifted, and mumbled as I
slipped off the bed. I had good night vision, and it adjusted
quickly enough for me to search for my clothing and pouch.
Dressing swiftly, I set off through the door, pausing as Isthar
grumbled again and then fell still. I experienced a convincing
urge to just go back to bed; I could wake Isthar and get her to
finger me, probably grease my asshole and give me a solid fuck.
My cunt throbbed just at the thought of it. I pressed my lips
tightly together and firmed my resolve: I had a job to do. I had
to get paid, a reputation to uphold and all that.

As I stood outside Isthar's door, I recalled the impression of
Marchel's shadow. In the center of my mind, I felt a very
persistent tug: like a compass, it directed me to the left, and
from the strength of the pull, I could tell that she was near. I
slunk along the corridor, pausing twice when the watch made their
rounds. I simply stepped back against the wall and let the
shadows fold over my body, hiding me from sight.

Viosthar's door wasn't locked, for who would try to break into
the room of the Jiyio, right in the middle of this spire? I
closed it behind me with nary a click and surveyed the huge bed
in the center of the sizable room. Cool air drifted through the
open, arched windows which overlooked the great plaza many levels
below. I spotted Viosthar's nude bulk, and just as naked atop
him, Marchel sprawled like a satisfied cat. When I took a step,
Viosthar flinched as if I'd tossed dirt in his face, and I froze;
and one muscular arm wrapped over Marchel's voluptuous body. She
wriggled a little and then went quiet once more.

The big Dosjinni obviously slept light, but I could move lighter.
Taking another step, I raised my arms and swept them slowly
through the air, coaxing the shadows to do my bidding. They came
forth willingly and I directed them to pack themselves around
Marchel. It was painstaking work, and all my concentration was
bent on gently lifting his arm, high enough that I could began to
float Marchel from atop him. I left a Marchel-shaped clump of
shadows in her place and then stood still for a few beats. A
slight frown had gathered between Viosthar's heavy eyebrows and
for a moment I thought he would awaken. Then, his scowl smoothed
out and I exhaled silently.

Turning, I gathered Marchel's sleeping form in my arms, wrapped
and padded by a thin layer of shadows. I hurried to the windows
and I don't know, maybe it was the cool of the night-breeze or
the way I moved, but Marchel twitched in my arms.

"What--" Her voice was heavy with sleep, but when she turned her
head and stared at up me, her eyes were wide and aware.
"Viosthar!"

A thick roar rose from the bed behind me and I didn't give myself
a chance to find out just how quickly the Dosjin moved. I spun
around, almost losing hold of Marchel as she tried to throw
herself out of my grasp. I flung out one hand at Viosthar even as
he leapt towards us. He almost got to me in that single bound,
but the shadows under my power snagged his arms and legs. His
body jolted in mid-air, and he thundered again as the shadows
dragged him back. I thought I heard a thread of panic in his
voice, but I had no time to ponder over that; I grabbed the
struggling Marchel with both hands once more and hauled her out
of a window, the edge of the stone sill scraping my leg.

She screamed as we fell, but the shadows had already begun to
take care of us. They wrapped around my waist, anchored to the
sides of the spire, and began to slow our descent. They released
me as I touched down on the top of the stairs right in front of
the main entry and I ran down them with Marchel thrown over my
shoulder. As I sprinted across the plaza, the shadows flowed
along the ground around us, keeping pace easily. The ruckus
started up behind us, shouts and the war-cry of horns. Glancing
back, I spotted a group of Dosjin gathered atop the stairs,
Isthar at the very front. She had a length of fur wrapped around
her waist, as if she'd dragged it off our bed.

I stumbled at how I'd thought about that: our bed. That was my
first mistake. The other one was to allow disbelief to rush
through me as I watched Isthar notch an arrow into a bow. She
drew it and pointed right at me without hesitation.

At the same time, Marchel gave a mighty heave and you know, I
blame Isthar for everything that happened at this point. A thin
whistle was my only warning and then the arrow buried itself into
the back of my right shoulder. Crying out at the blast of pain, I
let Marchel fall. She tumbled to the ground and shouted as she
landed. I distinctly heard the sharp crack of a bone breaking and
hoped that it wasn't in her neck. Humans were so frail.

In the midst of my pain and dismay, I lost control over the
shadows.

Now, don't look at me like that, my friend: it happens. Well,
it's happened to me before, but only under extreme circumstances,
such as being shot in the shoulder with a very large arrow. I'll
admit that my half-blood status might have something to do with
it, but I'll tell you this: I'm leagues better at manipulating
the shadows than any full-blood elf. Why, when I went to a
shadow-elf stronghold after I left my mother's home and those
snotty assholes refused to take me in because I was only a
half-breed, I stole into their bastion with ease. I caused a good
amount of damage, too; enough that they hired a dragon-mage to
construct wards against me.

But, as I said, it happens. The unfortunate thing about
uncontrolled shadows is that they can get hysterical. They simply
don't know what to do, really. The ones around me reared up and
then pounced on Marchel.

"Stop!" I cried at them, but they ignored me, piling on Marchel's
naked form, wrapping tightly. She hadn't broken her neck, not
from the way she tried to flail, but the shadows muffled her
cries and I'm sure they began to stop her breath.

I didn't think. I reached over my shoulder and dragged out the
arrow. Blood dripped down my back, and my vision blurred as I
focused on the wooden shaft. For a brief beat, I felt dread's icy
touch in the pit of my stomach as nothing happened; then, my blue
flames erupted along the arrow, almost setting fire to my cape.

"Sorry, my dears," I muttered right before I thrust the bright
light and heat into the twisting mass of shadows. They shrunk
back and I managed to exert my control over them once more,
sending them fleeing back to their proper places. Marchel,
thankfully alive, struggled to sit up. She trembled, cradling her
limp left arm with her right, gazing at me with wide eyes as I
collapsed to my knees.

"Why?" she whispered as Dosjin fighters stampeded up to us. "Why
did you try to take me from Viosthar?"

"I was contracted to bring you home," I told her, and then curled
up on my side on the ground because it seemed like a very good
idea. "By your brother."

Her lovely face twisted in dismay and rage. "I won't go back to
him! I ran away for a reason!" She set her jaw. "I am home!"

"There goes my deposit, then," I muttered and groaned as the
Dosjin seized me, and dragged me to my feet. They showed far more
care to Marchel, wrapping thick swaths of cloth and fur around
her. Then, they dragged me around to face Viosthar and Isthar,
who stood there with matching stony countenances. "Oh. Hello
there, soheen."

It was hard to miss the intake of breath from everyone around us.
Viosthar actually turned to give Isthar a long, questioning
stare. Isthar's chin tilted up a fraction and she cut her gaze
away from mine.

"Take her to the dungeons," she commanded. "Make sure there's
lots of light. And get Coisha." Her tone was clipped. She turned
away from me, and I got a bit angry at myself because I felt my
heart sink as she walked away. Also, Coisha. If I'd known she was
in the area, I would have never come near this damned spire. As
I've said before, the majority of Dosjin possess innate, implicit
magic, but when they have direct abilities, they're strong.
Dragon-mage strong, and Coisha was the best of them.

After all, she had been the mage to ward me away from the
shadow-elf stronghold.

---

Coisha laughed in my face as we sat facing each other in the
brightly lit dungeon. There might have been a thousand torches
blazing along the walls and fat candles arrayed on the floor.
There wasn't a shadow in the room. I perched on a low stool,
glowering at Coisha as her hands clutched my wrists, tightening
the bronzed bracers against my skin. She chuckled as she checked
her binding charms, which suppressed most of my own powers.
Coisha sat back and grinned at me, then dissolved into more
helpless laughter.

"I'm so glad that this all amuses you," I said, my tone stiff. I
tried to yank off the bracers, even though I knew that I simply
didn't have the ability to counter her charms. Coisha kept
snickering, wiping amused tears from her cheeks. Coisha had the
kind of face that was very old and very young at the same time.
Her face was almost as narrow as mine, but the rest of her
features appeared overly large for her face: big round eyes, with
that vertical pupil of the Dosjin; a large, hooked nose and very
full lips.

"It's very funny. Ruzhyll Delance, Scourge of the East," she
said, still chortling. "Finally caught!"

I bared my teeth. Whenever she put up a ward against me, I
couldn't go within leagues of a place without feeling as if I
would explode. Knowing Coisha's strength, it was possible that I
would shatter to pieces if I took those kinds of chances. It was
fortunate that her services were expensive, or else I'd be out of
a job. Unfortunately, Coisha had more knowledge of me than I felt
comfortable with.

"I know you're better than this," she said, most of the good
humour now wiped away from her features. I sighed; this was a
well-worn refrain, coming from her. "Lujankir--"

"Don't call me that," I snapped. My ogre-name was her key to
warding me away from places; she managed to wrangle that out of
my mother, many years ago. Coisha gave me what appeared to be a
sympathetic look.

"My apologies, Ruzhyll," she said and then rose, putting her
chair to one side. Her many layers of gold jewelry clinked
against each other and I glanced at them tiredly. I didn't have
the urge to steal them; that was probably a part of her damned
binding spell. She placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and I
forced myself not to cringe away from the weight of her power.
Her magic hauled at my wound, which the Dosjin had already
cleaned and dressed to the best of their ability. I winced as the
flesh knitted together.

Right after Coisha finished patching me up, she said, "Your
mother once told me that she wished you could find your way
home."

I frowned and tried to shrug off her hand, but she didn't move
it.

"She's doing well," Coisha murmured. "The healing potions you
sent for her bout of ash-pox were very helpful." She paused,
waiting for me to answer but I offered none. Coisha sighed. "I've
told the Jiyio and Isthar that I've known you since you were a
child. I've asked for leniency in your sentencing."

"I don't need your help," I snarled at her. "And I hope you
haven't told them my ogre-name."

"Why would I share such a thing?" Coisha's tone was coy as she
extinguished most of the candles with a wave of her hand and then
shifted them to create a clear path to the metal door. I sensed
the presence of the shadows as they settled within the corners
again, but my magic was reticent behind Coisha's charmed bracers.
"It is up to you to choose what you want to share."

"Coisha--" I started, but I fell silent as the door swung open.
Viosthar and Isthar strode in, They both wore the same type of
simple garments: a long, loose shirt over dark trousers. Viosthar
held no weaponry, but Isthar still had her bow. I gave that bow
the most accusing stare I could manage, then included Isthar in
that glare. She stared back at me, woodenly.

"Jiyio Viosthar," Coisha called and conjured an intricately
carved seat right out of mid-air. She set it down in front of me,
and smiled benignly as he sat down. "And Biriyo Isthar, you may
have my chair." Coisha dropped me a very surreptitious wink.
"Biriyo means 'general', Ruzhyll."

"You sit down, Coisha, I'd rather stand," Isthar told her, her
gaze still locked with mine as the dragon-mage reclaimed her
seat. "So. This is the infamous Ruzhyll Delance."

I didn't feel like dredging up a leer at the moment. I simply
looked her right in the eye and said, "It was a pleasure making
your acquaintance earlier, Biriyo."

Isthar's expression did not change, but Viosthar seemed to gain
an air of delighted interest.

"You kidnapped Marchel, and then you saved her life." He tilted
his head to one side. "You are an unusual thief."

Shrugging, I dropped my gaze to the bracers on my wrists. Though
they were already fading from view, they were really still right
there, intangible and effective. They would remain for as long as
Coisha had commanded, severely restricting my abilities.

Viosthar continued to speak, but he seemed to be musing to
himself. "I suppose we will visit Marchel's former village and
force them to accept the bond-gift they've refused. Although,
Dosjin culture demands that they give my family a bond-gift as
well." A slow grin crossed his face. "I do hope their
compensation is sufficient for the Jiyio."

I was far too tired and heartworn for any more talking. "What is
my punishment, then?"

He laughed. Coisha laughed. Isthar glowered.

"Well, that is a good question! How should I punish my sister's
soheen?"

Thoroughly confused now, I glanced at Isthar for an answer, but
her expression was very sour. She appeared as if she would rather
be anywhere else but inside this room.

"It's just a term of endearment," I ventured. "Isn't it?"

With a huge smile, Viosthar said, "Is that what she told you? It
can be that, yes. But it is also a word of great power.
Generations ago, it was accepted that a couple could undertake a
marriage-bond after uttering those words during intimacy."

Isthar crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. I gaped at
all of them.

"It really should not apply here," Isthar muttered and her
brother shook his head, still grinning.

"As Jiyio, I accept and bless this union." He clapped his big
hands once, as a priest would. "And now: your punishment, Ruzhyll
Delance. You are to remain within the company of your soheen for
five seasons, and your magic will remain restrained until you
prove yourself worthy of trust."

"Why am I being punished as well?" Isthar mused. Viosthar
disregarded her dry comment completely.

"You will live as a Dosjinni," he intoned, gaze skewering me. "If
you die, you die as a Dosjinni. This will be your home, and you
shall cleave to it. And if you cause any harm to Marchel ever
again," he continued in a dangerously conversational manner, "I
will kill you."

I swallowed, hard. Without my magic, I had no way to protect
myself even if I did manage to escape the Dosjin. No matter what
my mother said about me, she really did not raise a fool.

"I accept my punishment, Jiyio," I said and clasped my hands the
way Coisha had showed me when I was very small, pressing the
knuckles of my thumbs to my forehead: the Dosjin manner of
showing respect and gratitude. I didn't raise my head even as I
heard their seats scrape the stone floor and footsteps going
towards the door. The hinges creaked, the door slammed. I sighed,
raised my head and then let out an exasperated groan.

Isthar had remained, sitting on the stool her brother had left
behind, one leg crossed over the other. For a long moment, we
stared at each other.

"Many thanks for not killing me outright," I said, tonelessly.

"You're welcome," she replied, in the same flat manner.

I tried for a smile. It felt weak on my lips. "I don't suppose I
can convince you to fuck my ass now, can I?"

Her dark eyebrows twitched upwards. I felt a warmth bloom in my
stomach and cunt as a lascivious gleam lit her eyes as she
murmured, "You might not need to work too hard at convincing me."

---

The fat head of Isthar's cock stretched past my lips, and I ran
my tongue around the underside. She fucked my mouth slowly,
straddling my face and pinning my hands over my head the way I
asked her to. My asshole clenched around the greased wooden
phallus which had been twisted up into me. Drool dribbled down my
chin as her cock sank deeper, stroking the back of my throat. I
choked, eyes watering and Isthar's cock pulled out of my mouth
with an obscene pop.

Sliding down my body, Isthar tugged out the heavy fake prick and
placed her hot cock right at my back hole. She pushed my legs
wider and back, shoving her cock inside me. I gasped, mouth
hanging open as her thick pole tunnelled deep. She set a frantic
pace almost immediately, and I clawed at every part of her I
could reach, twisting her nipples and gripping handfuls of her
short hair. Isthar reached down between us and fingered my
leaking quim, biting that curve where my neck and shoulder met.

"More," I begged and Isthar pounded into me, twisting the length
of my hair around one fist as I cried out soheen, over and over
again. I couldn't wait for the deluge of her cum, and she didn't
disappoint. With a hard, sharp thrust, she filled me with a hot
rush, both of us grunting and bucking like wild animals.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't fire any more arrows at me,"
I said after we cleaned up and settled under the furs. "I find
that I'm not really a supporter of that."

"Then don't leave home," she retorted, lining up her warm legs
against mine. "And I won't have to."

---

So, that's the story, my friend! Not bad, eh? I told you I was
the best storyteller in the East. Just so you know, 'Lujankir' is
not my ogre-name. Why would I tell you my real ogre-name? That
would so silly of me.

Oh and while you were listening, my soheen has finally found this
wonderful bandits' cave of yours. It annoys her so when I get
myself kidnapped, but I can't help being a fantastic target, can
I?

Surrendering is a wonderful idea, I agree with you. Just lie
down, friend. I've seen her use that sword, and you don't want to
get in the path of that blade.

Oh, and here, I picked your pockets while you kidnapped me.
There's your lockbreaking set, very nice. I'd keep it, but I'm
not in the business any more. Alright, here are the jewels you'd
stolen as well. Isthar will make me give them back anyway.

Old habits, you know. They die real hard.

End

------------------------------

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