Cecil and the Tax Collectors
A few weeks after her start as wench of The Bull and Mare Inn, Cecil realized it would be quite some time before she saw payment beyond free food and room. She needed money to plan her revenge on the Witches of Clendol for casting her out, and yet her desire to do more than what was demanded of her at the inn was... nonexistent. And so she waited biding her time, knowing that with her skills, the inn would be bustling before long and her pockets would be stuffed with coins.
One quiet afternoon, Richard the innkeeper struggled to repair a broken chair while Cecil sat on a table and looked out the window, waiting for any form of distraction.
"Would you mind giving me a hand?" he asked.
Cecil glanced over from her perch. "I'm your wench, not your carpenter," she said. Still, the sight of Richard's sleeves rolled up, his forearms glistening with sweat, made her feel a certain way. "What about your son? Where's Georg gone off to?"
"If you're fancying a tumble, he's with his mother to the village for shopping, they'll be out the whole day. While they're gone though..." Richard's trousers stretched at the thought of slipping inside Cecil again.
The wench grinned. Richard was a fairly attractive man and if no longer in his prime and not the best endowed, had proven himself to be a capable lover. It was hard to say if she preferred Richard's skills or his son Georg's girth, but she was happy to bed either. Cecil crawled on top of the table and slowly raised her dress, presenting herself to the innkeeper. She grinned hearing him stumble and hurry over. As he grunted and pulled at his pants behind her, Cecil looked out the window.
"Richard," she said, feeling the tip of his cock pressing at her entrance. "We might have company soon. Do you see those men coming down the road?"
"Who? Maybe they're just passing by," he groaned, leaning over Cecil.
She leaned back into him, sliding her hips up and down, soaking his hard cock. Richard squeezed her ass as they both strained to see the travelers. Three men riding horses, wearing broad-brimmed black hats. They trot down the road, headed straight for the inn.
"Richard, do you know who they are?"
Cecil reached back to guide him in when the innkeeper stumbled back, knocking over chairs. He scurried towards the back of the inn, color drained from his face and pants still around his ankles.
"They... they... I'll be back in just a bit! You watch the inn, I trust you, my wonderful wench! I'll see you shortly!"
"Richard!" Cecil stared in disbelief as the door at the back of the inn swung open then shut and the innkeeper ran away faster than the day his wife had caught him and his son fucking Cecil. "Damnable man, we finally have a moment and he runs? Who could these men possibly be? Curse you Richard, leaving me here in this state!"
Cecil had hardly a moment to be annoyed with Richard before the three men rode up to the inn, pulling their horses to a screeching halt in a cloud of dust. They swiftly dismounted and stepped into The Bull and Mare. Cecil hopped down from the table and eyed the leader of the trio. He was tall with strong features shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. He had the broad shoulders and slim waist of a healthy and active man.
Maybe the day won't be without its fun, Cecil thought. "Welcome to The Bull and Mare," she welcomed. "I'm Cecil, resident wench. Richard is away at the moment, but what can I do for you three handsome men?"
The leader pulled off thick riding gloves, his cronies following suit, and looked at Cecil. She called herself a wench, but she did not match the look he expected. She was shapely with wide hips and a narrow waist and had luscious olive skin, but she was short and her breasts were not the size he expected of a wench. He quite liked her green eyes and freckled cheeks.
"Where is Richard," the man said in a warm and relaxing voice.
The other two men stood in the leader's shadow, both rather short compared to their leader. The man on the right had grown in girth since his trousers and shirt were fitted, his belly pushing against the buttons. The man on the left was on the contrary a fair bit thin for his clothes. Still, both had pleasing faces, if not quite so dashing as their leader.
"He's... presently indisposed. Away at the moment. What can I do to help you?" Cecil said with a twinkle in her eye.
"You can get Richard for me." The man's expression grew cold.
"Is he expecting you?" Cecil asked.
"Yes."
"And you are?"
"I'm Anders, the tax collector. These are my esteemed colleagues, Jon and Will," the man said pointing to the pudgy man first, then the thinner one. "Richard is overdue and I am here for collection. If my reckoning is right, and he has made as little as I expect he has, I'll claim the inn for the crown."
Alarm rose in Cecil, not wanting to lose the convenience of her position as wench of The Bull and Mare. "And just how much does Richard owe?"
"He's had this inn for nearly two years," Anders said, taking out a small ledger, "and paid not one coin in taxes to the crown. By my estimations - which are absolute, precise, and anchored in truth - he owes near a hundred gold pieces." He tapped a quill against an open page.
"A HUNDRED?" Cecil roared. "This dump can't be worth more than fifty pieces of silver!"
"This is prime real estate, according to Richard himself! He called it an investment, and his overvaluation has resulted in these taxes. Not to mention, there's the bit of him not paying down his loan, and we may have rolled that up into the tax," Anders said. "Besides, he has enough money to hire a wench, there has to be gold stashed somewhere. How much is he paying you?"
Better think quick now or this job is done for, she thought. Cecil arched her back, shaking her bosom and stretching, showing off her physique. "I'm quite... flexible... in the payment I take."
Although Anders remained stoic, Cecil grinned as Jon and Will shuffled, hands covering their crotches.
"Flexible?" Anders asked.
Cecil stepped closer to the three men and brushed her hair back. She tugged on her shirt, exposing her neck and collarbone. "What's the trouble with a wench receiving creative payment? You're the one talking about rolling up loans and taxes. It sounds rather predatory to me. "
"Policy is policy, my lady. We don't set the rules, we just enforce them," Anders said with a tip of his hat.
"I suppose few things are as inevitable as taxes and men chasing pretty women. I wonder if there might be some way I can help repay the debt," Cecil said, licking her lips seductively.
"You're employed by a man more broke than an ant that's been stepped on by an ogre. What could you possibly offer to cover his debt?"
Cecil twirled her hair in one hand. Her other hand drifted between her legs. She rubbed herself through her dress. "I'm sure we can work something out?"
"You know where Richard stashes his coin?"
Am I losing my touch? Not the slightest reaction from this man and I'm squeezing my cunt right in front of him. Cecil thought with a sigh. She stepped back, with hands on her hips. "I'm offering something of a payment, but perhaps it's a bit... softer than gold pieces."
Jon and Will grew red in the face as their cocks pressed against their trousers, though Anders seemed entirely unaware of what Cecil meant.
"I am to collect gold..." Anders started.
Cecil threw up her hands in frustration. "Gods above, you couldn't be more blind if a vulture pecked out your eyes! Right then. Do some magic with your little book there, make it so Richard owes no taxes for the year. In exchange, I offer you this!"
Cecil threw off her dress and stood boldly naked before the three men. Sauntering across the inn, she leaned over the bar and presented herself as a feast for their hungry eyes.
"I am Cecil, enchanted by the Witches of Clendol! Feast your eyes upon an eternally clean, wet, and perfectly sized set of holes for your pleasure. Spend an afternoon with me, satisfy your deepest desires in the depths of me, and let's just take a short pause with the whole tax thing."
"Meeting!" Anders said, his voice cracking into a high pitched squeak.
The three men rushed outside, leaving Cecil to roll her eyes. She sauntered over to the window and leaned by a broken bit of glass just on the other side of the three men, their conversation flowing in as if they stood beside her.
"Can we?" Anders asked.
"You're the boss, why're you asking us!" cried Jon.
"If you ask me, I'd be in that tail faster than you can say 'tax for a year,'" said Will.
Anders breathed in and out and in and out, his chest heaving. "If you tell anyone, anyone at all, anyone ever, anyone but each other, I will personally cut off your balls! Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes!" the others replied.
"Does this mean..." said Jon.
"Are we going to..." said Will.
