A Hero's Tas

From the author: Three things- this is largely scene setting. Part two will be largely sex, and then eventually there will be more sex and romance in part three onward. I plan to get you part 2 very soon. Sorry if this bit of the story is slow paced - it will heat up.

Two- I am predominantly a fanfic writer, so sorry if that style doesn't carry well in an original work. Many of the authors here write beautiful, evocative prose and I hope one day to reach that, but right now I'm finding my voice. This is also all written on phone, so apologies if I've made any editing errors.

Thirdly: I am a straight(ish) cis-man writing this from a lesbian's PoV. I am sorry if I make any offensive assumptions, and please do offer constructive feedback about how I can encapsulate that character better. I am trying to empathise this role, but I know I'll make mistakes.

Hope you enjoy the story:

*****

It had been a gruelling day. Well, a gruelling week to be honest. This entire campaign, clearing out bandits near the disputed fringelands, where laws were loose and consensus over which nation ruled over which remote village, had been exhausting, in part because of its single-paced nature, attritional, little flair.

The change of pace promised by this detour really was appealing.

Mya's current band of comrades had been hired by this barony to protect their territory, not that the gentry several leagues away cared a jot for the inhabitants of villages like this one. Just for their taxes and crops. However, the appearance of horde of monsters, growing worryingly more frequent in the past couple of years, had changed things. Now they were being offered money from multiple sources for the same job - luckily sources including their current employers as well as the council of this "town", if it could be called that.

To purge the area of these beasts, and defend the whole inhabited area.

This was not an altruistic command, from the Baron at least. Nevermind the aforementioned taxes and crops, if left unchecked the plague of them could threaten more settlements, even the capital itself. Plus most of the fiends making up these mobs left valuable remains.

They, alongside similarly enlisted mercenary units, had ended up in this little village, Meadovale, as the most convenient place en route to their objective to sleep without setting camp and to get some sustenance. Situated where it was, Meadovale probably periodically saw soldiers and the like passing through, and had a couple of taverns that would be customed to catering for them, though the one her unit was currently sitting down seemed considerably busier than it would be used to, the servers all appearing mildly harangued by the pace and number of requests, though pleased with the custom.

As she sat alone, typically, Mya's gaze (and more so her ear) was drawn to one particular table that seemed to be host to entirely less wholesome harassment. Raucous laughs and higher pitched pleading together were a red flag, and once she focused she saw exactly what the fuss was about.

A barmaid, in adulthood but quite newly so, was looking increasingly troubled as she tried to dodge groping hands and ignore leers and lewd remarks from a half-cut, boisterous crowd of men, clearly fighters of some sort, from the entitled attitude as well as their garb.

None of her fellows of course. She changed companions frequently but wouldn't associate with any who behaved like this, wouldn't tolerate it for a minute. She had fought with several of her current unit before, knew a couple well and had gained their respect, and failing that, their fear. Any new mercenaries who didn't grasp the required attitude yet were quickly educated, and changed for the better, left, or were left bleeding in a ditch.

She didn't tolerate this kind of thing from anyone, had had to fight it her entire life in this style of work, the molestation yes, once going infinitely too far, making her say "never again", but also the condescension, the letching glances, the contempt.

Over the years, they had all learned the hard way. Not many women were involved in her line of work, any of her lines. Soldiering (as a mercenary or as a patriot), guarding, policing, training, even assassination. To cope you had to be twice as hard as the men.

She was hundreds of times as tough, polished from childhood daily to be better right up to this point. Anyone who had fought with her knew not to push this rule, respecting women and respecting their autonomy, lest they fought her. And those who didn't, they thought twice if they heard her epithet.

Shadowtalon. Not known for her mercy.

Once upon a time, her blood would have boiled at this sight before her, girl at the precipice of sobbing, face burning, blouse half-snatched off her chest, just trying to do her job. But her 29 years had tempered Mya to a different fury. She became as cold as clear night on midwinter. Fire could burn, but burn itself out. Ice was relentless.

She could see why the brutes were interested in this sweet young thing. Autumn hair, of blended hues of flame, disheveled by the stress but still enchanting. Milk-pale skin accented with gorgeous freckles, eyes as green as newborn buds in spring... all strokes colouring a painting as alluring for its vitality as its undeniable beauty, a piece of art in itself. They were probably more preoccupied however with the glorious body beneath, a tribute from the goddess to femininity, long legs and full, lush figure hard to take her eyes off.

Nymphs like this were her weakness, she had to admit, not helped by having no pretty maids of her own to feel the warmth of, to share untold pleasures with, for several hard weeks. But if this had been a wisened crone, or taken mother and wife, it would have made no difference.

Looking was free, however, trying to take that was unacceptable when the other party's disinterest was clear. They continued nonetheless, and as she got up to intervene, one man, the apparent leader of this disgraceful troupe, grabbed the young lady by her wrist, with violent force, and pinned her to the table, forcing his lips on hers as his beastly paw smothered the curve of one breast.

For all of one second.

Planting her weight and pivoting, with the poise and technique that made her a sought-after dancer in the higher social circles of several city-states, she hurled the bastard yards away from the poor thing, stood between the group and their intended prey, the noise petering out of the bustling establishment as attention spread and the customers nudged their companions and pointed them this way. There were two types of onlooker now. Those, some worried and some amused, expecting to see a burly giant of a man smash aside this woman a foot shorter than him, and take what he wanted. And those who had seen Mya fight.

She had been taught, by her father, her aunts and uncles, her tutor, her first commander, and sadly by experience, many times, that as a woman, and not a large one, she could not compete with trained men like this for brute strength. She was fit, with muscular back and thighs, but less than average height, and a figure that was undeniably a woman's. In fact, she suspected and could see in her assailant's eyes that she was now an enticing new target. With tawny skin and black hair, long but simple in a pony-tail for this campaign, eyes of burnt honey and the suggestions of curves even beneath her strapping and leather armour, she knew at this stage of her life, without insecurity, that she was ravishing, had heard from a stream of lovers. That distraction was generally to her advantage.

She wouldn't let power come into the equation.

"Back off, leave this woman alone and leave this inn, and we can all head to the frontier tomorrow, keeping a distance from your vile excuses for soldiers, but nominally together, with everyone's body and ego intact. But touch her again, any of you, unless she asks for it, and I will break you."

She wanted to break him anyway, for the principle, but this way was better for two reasons. Firstly, if he did back down then at least he could learn, and she could just about stomach sharing a battlefield with him for long enough to fight goblins and manticores and the like.

Secondly, there was no way this distillation of macho entitlement was going to back down from her. Probably not even if he learnt this was Mya Steelwing in front of him.

He didn't even reply, just snarled and lunged for her with his clumsy bear's arms. She wasn't as lethal unarmed as she would be if she drew steel, and she was tempted to, but there was a risk of collateral damage if she escalated things. So she danced.

Her last commander, as a loyal soldier of Valeria, had called her the quickest thing he had ever seen, with reflexes like a cat and the striking speed of a snake. She had worked on her speed since then, with her timing and awareness too.

As he grabbed and swung, she nimbly dodged and ducked, completely in control. She fought in raids and wars wearing nothing but this light armour, armed with her light, curved sword, inspired by a far-off nation, unlike anything this idiot had ever seen. In chaotic battle, she never got hit, and accuracy was her forte. As he missed again and again, she cherry-tapped at his uncovered face with savage jab after jab, swiftly bloodying him and blinding his view with oozing ichor and sweat. Then, when he paused to collect his breath and, if he were capable of any, his thoughts, she brutally elbowed him in the throat, felling him, following through with a vicious kick to his crotch, one that produced an animal shriek, one that every man in the room winced at, and ensured that even if he attacked another woman later, actually raping her would be impossible for some time.

She knew what would happen next, had been here before. Even as his second reacted and drew his blade on her, the leader himself no longer a threat as he whimpered, hunched on the floor, in one smooth motion she had unsheathed her weapon, her infamous talon, and had it against his throat. It was sharp enough that the soft, passive contact still drew blood, and, of course, enchanted, though she hardly needed that now. He froze, hand still not quite even on his hilt.

"I am Mya Steelwing, and your friend there is lucky I've left him alive. If your entire group want to take some delusion of vengeance from this, rather than a merciful lesson about how one should treat folk giving you food and treat defenseless girls, go ahead, but be warned: as soon as one of you bares steel on me, I will kill you all and none of you will land a blow. Now fuck off, and appease your animal lust with someone willing. Each other, I suggest."

The beat-down she had administered to their captain, the assurance she held herself with and her reputation, they did their job in tandem and, without more than a moment of hesitation, the thugs picked up their emasculated boss and fled from the tavern, practically sprinting to get away from her.

With encouragement from her comrades, the audience that had built up turned away from her new table, either understanding that she did not want the attention or disquieted and trying to pretend they hadn't seen what had just occured. Several gave her a nod of respect before doing so. Every female staff member smiled at her warmly. One didn't disappear with the rest of them. The beautiful redhead who had been the target of that attack.

What I did was right, but I've probably lost her her custom for the evening. It'd be fair for me to make sure she gets as much coin from attending me instead - I'll upgrade to the most expensive meal and wine they have, and tip her well.

She turned to make it clear that she'd ensure the young lady was paid plenty for tonight, only to pause when she saw her face. It was flushed and gaping in frank, uncovered admiration.

Oh right, I guess that was probably quite impressive and heroic if you were in her shoes. I hope I haven't intimdated her too much.

A little more consideration and she realised this wasn't just the platonic admiration of a hero, however. She was trying to hide the movement of her eyes, but her flitting gaze, impossible to ignore with those verdant jewels glittering, unique and mesmerising, kept pausing on her face and various parts of her body before being averted with rosening of her cheeks.

Ah. That was a wish come true. Better first make sure this wasn't her horny body deceiving her. She was sincere in her belief that taking advantage or assuming interest or debit just because you had helped someone were utterly unacceptable, and being a woman didn't mitigate her from that. She was determined not to be a hypocrite.

She hoped she was right though. The more she looked at the girl, about twenty at her estimate, even without the adorable blushing, the deeper her beauty struck her. Especially considering the coarseness most people in this rural land had, from birth or from the years, her features were fine and flawless, lips plump, and traces of her clean, hardworking scent reached her nose.

There was no point in being in denial. Mya was getting wet thinking about this nubile thing in her bed, had to override her mind's fixation on what she might look like under those clothes.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

The younger woman gulped, and seemed to force herself to focus on Mya's eyes, giving her a closer look at the multifacted emeralds she had. Beautiful.

"Um, I'm Jenna, miss. Thank you for saving me, so much. I really would love to repay you..."

Ignoring the possible implicit suggestion there, Mya made her pure intentions clear. If anything were to happen, she wanted it to be without doubt for the lass that it was her choice, something they both wanted, not some reward owed for what Mya considered a minimally acceptable moral act.

"You don't owe me a thing, Jenna. I'm sorry that this will probably have taken away from your work this evening. I'll make up for it by paying for you to serve my table alone all night, and to spend a lot. But in between drinks and courses, you are welcome to stay here and talk with me."

And talk they did, as Mya became slightly tipsy, learning about Jenna's family, with dead father and struggling mother. How she liked to dance and sing in her spare time. How since she had hit 18 a few months ago, every man in town had been hitting on her, ignoring her protestations that she wasn't interested, looking to marry her. Before that, ever since her breasts had developed, they'd still been trying to sneak looks and brushes against her.

Mya, between tasting every delicacy the small place had to offer (aside from the one in front of me, a treacherous part of her added), had spoken about her life, very briefly, as a soldier, adventurer and bodyguard, to Jenna's apparently sincere interest. She had implied that her love life was strictly female, letting that seed plant, a suggestion that made Jenna's face light up and made her sit closer. Mya decided the signals and the time were right to be more brazen.

"Surely some day you'll be expected to marry though, Jenna? Won't you have to pick one of these men then?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, I'll be expected to, already am, but I refuse to. They don't interest me, even the kind ones, nor attract me remotely. None have been as brutish as those men were, and I know there are many good men around, but the thought of lying naked with them repulses me. I always thought I was being snootish, or prudish, that it was these country folk and one day I'd meet a bold knight or gentleman from the cities and they'd be more refined and I'd fall in love."

Mya leaned in closer. "What do you think now?"

Jenna hesitated, struggling to make real the admission her words would mean. Mya was certain now, though, where this was heading. She had been the first for a number of young women who had realised, against the teachings of their society, that they found women attractive rather than men. It was an experience she cherished, a wonderful, innocent discovery and self-discovery that she felt privileged to be a part of. Plus it had a deep sexual appeal.

Mya had had myriad encounters with her own sex, ever since she accepted she was solely interested in women at age 16. She had been taught and teacher, her varied roles and traveling letting her experience a breadth of society open to few women. She had been pampered, been a Queen's pet, been submitted to and been dominated, been with multiple women at once. She'd made love as equals, comforted friends, had tension-fuelled physical sex with rivals, been made to beg for it, been chained up, fucked hard and been loved as gently as a kitten. She had shared her body with ladies, farmers' wives, virgin girls like this one, several heads of state, priestesses, warrior women from distant tribes and one witch.

She found she liked pretty much any scenario depending on mood. But two things were her favourites, being in charge but, in counterpoint to that, also focussing on the pleasure of another. Seducing and introducing inexperienced younger women like this was usually a perfect balance of the two.

After the world had stopped for what seemed like an hour, Jenna gave up her denial, this barrier her upbringing had formed that said you couldn't want this. She spoke. "I don't think I'll ever want a man. I saw you come and protect me, and I wanted you like I'd never wanted anything in my life. I've always thought girls were beautiful, and admired them, but assumed that was aesthetic, not physical. But when I saw you fight, I felt things that the other girls describe when they talk about the men."

Mya poked a little further. She whispered, everything a secret between them. "Did you get wet, Jenna? Are you wet for me? Are you gay for me?"

She nodded. "I can't stop looking at you, and thinking about you naked. Thinking about how it would feel. I've never, ever been this aroused."

Mya's face was inches from hers now, eyes locked with hers.

"I'm gay, Jenna, to make it clear, I am attracted to women, and only women, and I make love to them. I am attracted and soaking for you, you beautiful thing."

She stood up. "I'm your only customer tonight, so once I leave you are free for the night. My room is number 6. I am retiring to bed now. If you want, and I very much hope you do, you can follow me after I've left. If you do, I'll teach you yourself and change your life forever. The whole tavern will know what has happened, because they'll hear you cry out my name, and see you tomorrow annointed in my juices, smelling of me, marked as mine. Everyone will know you like girls, but most importantly you will, and I promise you'll never go back."

She started to walk away, the barmaid wide eyed and slack-jawed, lust undisguised.

"It's up to you."

With that, she retired upstairs, and stayed fully clothed on her bed, knowing at this point that Jenna would be up. She suspected she wouldn't even war with herself for 5 minutes. Mya had been wrong before, rarely, and even more rarely women had followed her thinking this was what they wanted but backing out once they got intimate, but as soon as she had her finger at another female's lower lips, the same pattern had transpired every time. They were sopping, she made them orgasm, time after time, they tasted her afterward, never needing coercion, and they always returned another day for more. Mya knew this would be one of those times, and her vulva was a luxuriant garden, coated liberally with the dew of desire, as she thought about what she would do.

She didn't have to wait long. Two minutes, then a knock.

"Come in, little Jenna. This is your room too now."

And the pre-battle adventure really began.