Of Gods and Queefs - Got Satire

Thank you to cndcfrazier! Candace is the best editor ever.

***

"Damn you, Vargo, you're going to do that in the sight of gods and queefs?"

"The spoils of war apply to everything, Florian. Or don't you know that?" Vargo leered at Florian, moving closer. Florian took a step back, fear clear in his eyes. "I didn't mean nothing by it, Vargo. You know that."

"I do, do I? How would I know, Florian? From what I hear you're as much of a snake as the enemy that opposes us so." He narrowed his eyes at Florian. "And yet you expect me to take you at your word." He turned away from Florian, pacing back and forth before him. "The next time you question anything I do, it will be your corpse rotting on the ground, and my cock in your mouth. Do you understand me, scum?"

Florian nodded vigorously. "Yes." He nodded some more. "Yes."

Vargo turned away from him, seemingly disgusted. It wasn't the first time. To Florian, Vargo was the sort of man who couldn't feel anything but hate. Then again, if you were a commander of Ser Coochie's Army, you had no other choice.

Florian adjusted his hilt and followed Vargo, who was approaching his fellow commanders. He spared a quick look back at the corpse Vargo had just defiled.

The poor man's neck had been split open, and there was an axe sticking out of his head. His mouth was wide open, and his eyes gaped in disbelief - he looked like he'd had a great fright on his way toward death. It wasn't clear to Florian whether or not Vargo had been the one to deal the final blow.

Florian turned back around, shaking the image out of his head. Best not to dwell on it, he thought.

"A fine victory," Florian heard Commander Davos say, as he approached them carefully.

"Indubitably." The response came from Commander Seaworth, notorious for shaving the foes he defeated in battle and then sliding them naked down densely populated, inclined outlets. "We can be sure that this war will soon come to an end."

Vargo smiled. "Should we be wishing for that, Seaworth? We have them, the enemy, on their knees, staring up at us with fearful, pitiful eyes, begging for mercy. Is it the way of the ruled to ever get what they want? Should they for the sake of our political system? I am not inclined to undermine what we have. Lesser men would of course," - he looked pointedly at Seaworth - "but I am of no such quality, as you all surely know by now. Besides, even if that notion was sheer folly, I would still urge a continued fighting of the enemy. As commanders of Coochie's Army, courage is what we have. Would that I could give it up and sign peace terms with an enemy that is so pathetic it makes my bowls itch." He scratched his arse and grinned at them all. "Would that I could."

"Yes, we'd all very much appreciate that, ser," remarked Commander Pillsworth in his quiet, determined voice. He regarded Vargo with somber eyes.

Vargo's grin disappeared; he was evidently peeved. "I wasn't asking you, old man. Leave the witty remarks at the Pontificum. You aren't here on this stinking battlefield for your intellect. Perhaps your squadron may have achieved better marks at Dunville if they had a commander who was cognizant of that."

Pillsworth's mouth curled upward, hinting at a smile. "And perhaps the Saliri's resources might have been ours, if only you had showed some restraint at Dunville, and not slaughtered their Dashma. No one doubts your prowess with a sword, but there is not one among us who hasn't questioned your decisions. To say they are suspect is to say nothing at all, for it is beyond obvious in the sight of gods and queefs."

Vargo turned a bright shade of red, fury turning his eyes into slits. Instead of responding to Pillsworth, he turned to Florian. "Florian return to my quarters. See that everything is arranged." Before Florian could hurry off, Vargo grabbed him, pulling him close. "Best you be on your way, boy. I am not in a forgiving mood, so don't err."

Florian gulped and stumbled away from Vargo and the rest of the commanders. They continued their discourse as Florian hurried off, half-running in the direction of Vargo's quarters.

Upon arriving, he threw back the curtains and saw that everything was in disarray. Grapes and other berries were strewn across the floor, mail and armor were haphazardly placed, and the walls were covered with a greasy substance that looked suspiciously like blood. Adding to his dismay, Florian saw the naked figure of Lynne - Vargo's betrothed - sprawled on a large chair. She was sleeping.

Florian let out a deep breath. This was a lot of work to handle, though he was wasn't unaccustomed to it. But the matter of Vargo's beloved was troublesome indeed. Florian knew that Vargo would have his head if he found out that Florian had seen her in such a compromised state. He'd have her head as well, most like, Florian thought.

Not that that was something he necessarily cared about. Lynne had always treated him with an air of indifference, such that Florian felt invisible in her presence. She only called on him to fulfill whatever wish she happened to desire at that particular moment. Capricious she was, that was for certain. Florian much preferred Vargo's casual air of maliciousness over the blatant apathy inherent in Lynne's manner.

At least Vargo shows some emotion, thought Florian, as he stared at the young girl's figure. She never even spares you so much as a glance. I'm the third heir to Vageland...don't I deserve more? More than that at least?

Florian shook his head, bending to pick up a berry. He was prepared to set about his task, for even if Lynne's fate meant less than nothing to him, his own mattered.

He moved about the room, picking berries up here and there, repositioning armor where he could, and swiping at the walls with a wet cloth. He worked diligently and effectively as ever, and before long, there was little mess left. In fact, Vargo's quarters were in such a fine state that Florian felt a deep satisfaction. He smiled, letting his gaze sweep across the room.

He wasn't even too perturbed with Lynne; she wasn't as sleepy as before - she had adjusted her positioning several times while he worked - and was in a fairly wakeful state. As he watched her, she stretched her body, her eyes unseeing as she scrunched them up. Then she promptly went back to a restless mien.

A simple touch would wake her for good, Florian thought. He ambled over to her and tapped her bare back forcefully.

She didn't so much as stir.

Florian frowned, slapping her shoulder blade quickly with the palm of his hand. When that didn't work, he tugged on her hair and told her to wake up. He did this repeatedly but to no avail. He began to get frustrated, wondering what it would take for her to acknowledge his presence and fully awaken. Even now she shuns you, Florian thought. You're like a gadfly to her, it's as if you don't even exist in her world. Florian grimaced and grabbed the flesh on her back, thinking, Make her feel your presence.

He pulled hard on the flesh, leaving red marks where his fingers toyed. He could smell her sweat as he leaned against her. One hand he used to clench the skin near her scapula; with the other he repeatedly squeezed the flesh near her buttocks. Lynne groaned softly but didn't say anything.

You enjoy this, huh, Florian raged. How about I give you something you might not like, something that will...hurt, mayhaps? I'd ask you but you don't even care enough to look at me. You godsqueef wench in-a-barrel, you.

Florian took his manhood out of his loose-fitting trousers. It appeared larger than life. The head gaped at him with its sizeable urethra, a suppliant in Florian's sexual endeavors. It seemed to commune with Florian, imploring him to do what needed to be done. Florian nodded. That's right, time to do what's fucking necessary.

He placed his hands squarely on Lynne's plump cheeks, spreading them apart so he could see the treasure trove between. It was absolutely beautiful - glistening, pink, hairless. Florian had never been inside a woman that waxed like this one did, and his bowels quivered in unbridled anticipation. He knew that he wouldn't last long once inside her. He took his penis by the shaft and placed it against her lips, ready to enter her either against or compliant with her will.

There was a sense of foreboding in the air that Florian could almost taste. He swiveled his head around, expecting Vargo himself to burst through the curtain and ruin them both, but no one appeared. Wind whipped incessantly at the curtain, leaving wrinkles where it touched. There was a harsh chill in the room. Florian shivered. Best be on with it, he thought.

He slid into Lynne's pussy, which gave little resistance. She gave one great groan beneath him and attempted to sit up. Finding Florian's body in her way, she craned her neck to look at him. "Oh. My. Gods! Like what the queef, Florian! I thought it was Vargo fooling around with me this whole time. Once he finds out about...he'll..." She trailed off, her capacity for talk diminishing as Florian rammed her with all the strength he had. Her complaining quickly turned to moaning as Florian pounded away. He felt himself on the verge of exploding within her and slowed his pace.

"Oh my, Florian, you're so good at this. Make me cum and...make me cum and Vargo won't have to know!"

Florian wasn't even thinking of Vargo, and, hearing his name, nearly had a change of heart and briefly considered pulling out of Lynne. Before he could, she grabbed his thighs and pulled him deeper within her. "Oh," she gasped. 'You're...you're so big. So much...so much bigger than anything...had before." She buried her face into the cushion beneath her, her back arching in pure pleasure. There was a faint smell of shit in the air, though Florian found that he didn't care. That's right, wench, I'm fucking the shit out of you! Florian cackled at the thought and increased the motion of his hips to match her desire.

He leaned forward, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair, and felt his cock stiffen as it strained to release its contents. Lynne's ass grinded against him in a frenzied motion, leaving him breathless. He let his hands fall to his sides, lost in the rhythm of her body and the pure intensity of the fucking. His cock couldn't hold out any longer - it was time to blast this wench.

He let his body ease, felt the tension leave his body, recognized the impending boom. He threw his head back, let loose one salvo of joyous laughter. Bet she knows who you are now, eh, Florian thought. Put a fucking kid in the wench.

Lynne moaned into the cushion, spurring Florian on. "I'm so close. Fuck my pussy, fuck my pussy, fuck...fuck...ohhhhh," Lynne said, practically sobbing. "I'm cumming...cumming on your cock! Cumming...ahhhhh...WAHHHH SHIT! FUCK YEA!" Florian felt Lynne's juices slowly cover his cock, and the sensation was enough to make him burst. He shot load after load into her, and his vision started to go black around the edges. The chill in the room had heightened, and the sense of foreboding had returned, but Florian didn't stop to think about what it meant.

Florian let his body sink to the floor, entirely exhausted. His eyes were clouding with the fog of sleep; it was all he could do to fight it off. Still lying on the chair, Lynne was whimpering softly, her ass twitching every so often in the aftermath of her orgasm. Florian grinned at the sight.

Turning away, Florian noticed that the curtain had been blown open. He could see out into the camp where Ser Coochie's men were milling about aimlessly, speaking in low tones and watching each other warily. One looked through the curtain and saw Florian, staring at him with cold, lifeless eyes. Florian frowned. He could tell Vargo, he thought. Close it!

Florian, upright on unsteady feet, moved slowly towards the curtain. He thrice fell on the way but managed to get back up each time. Reaching it, he grasped the ends with all his might, his head pounding insistently all the while. He brought the ends together, blocking the outside light and removing the man from his sight. He sighed, recognizing the need to clean up the mess he and Lynne had just made; he would need to help her into a fitting garment too, he knew.

He started walking back to the chair but quickly stopped dead in his tracks. He stared in wonder at Lynne, who had a fresh axe sticking out of her head. Her neck had been split open from the back, and there was a cock submerged in her mouth.

"I thought I told you to arrange things, Florian," Commander Vargo said. "Is this what I meant?" He waited for Florian's response, and when Florian didn't say anything, he sneered. "I'll arrange that asshole of yours, boy. In the sight of gods and queefs, you can bet I will."