Ihonette Gambit Ch 2
~Strudert
The air stunk of piss, booze, and sweat as Strudert slumped heavily against the worn and chipped counter. Blurry eyed, drunk, and with the sound of the boisterous tavern drowning his sluggish thoughts, he felt no better. His day had been one shitshow after the other, and that was to say nothing about the week he'd had.
He sighed, the sound coming out like a muffled groan from between his fat and chapped lips. His life had just become a constant tumble downwards, piling debts, an aging body, a...
He slumped, slamming his head against the counter, causing the barkeep to give him a cross-look.
"Ya okay?" The bushy-eyed man asked, wiping a mug.
"Yeah," Strudert replied, still not feeling any better as he plopped his balding head back onto the counter. "By the gods, I miss adventuring," he muttered.
~Ihonette
"By the gods," the wagon-driver groaned, tightening his grip on Ihonette's head as a shudder ran through his gaunt body.
Ihonette smiled, humming her appreciation around his twitching dick as he spurted into her mouth. Fondling the wrinkled hairy sacks. That passed for his jewels, she coaxed out another moan from his lips and another spurt of his seed. His cum was a bitter watery mess, but she didn't mind. The wrinkled and leather-skinned man had been more than a pleasant companion on her trip, and not to mention a decent meal, even if his cum was no-better than watered-down gruel. Though, it'd not be the worst thing she'd ever swallowed.
With a lewd pop, she let go off his shriveling tool and licked the dregs of his seed from her plump lips.
"You're something else," the man panted as he rested heavily against his wagon's chair.
The elf smiled, patting his dick.
He winced," and you've been a delight," she beamed, planting a kiss on his sunken cheek before righting herself and making to hop off the stationary wagon. He'd parked them just off the edge of a crossroads, nestling them within the privacy of the surrounding foliage. It was a pleasant enough place, but Ihonette was itching to get going, and with her target so close, there was no time to wait.
"I could," he started.
Landing, she adjusted her travel pack and shook her head. Smiling, she looked up at the rail-thin man and his worn clothing. "There's no need for that, Iron-root is just up ahead. I can just walk the rest of the way, besides," she added, pointing at his overburdened wagon," you still have a job to do."
He winced.
She smiled and started down the mud choked road," I'll come by Dog's-burrow, when I finish."
~Iron-root
It'd taken another hour or two, but she finally reached the city of Iron-root. The tiered city sat like a grey and soot-covered crown, looming over the surrounding area. The stench of refuse, piss, the unwashed masses, and other unsightly odors clung to the smoke choked air like a stubborn child. People, gaunt, bedraggled, corpulent, and richly dressed busied themselves, intermingling, jockeying, and, doing as they pleased throughout the overcrowded city. The place was a stinking cesspool of people and animals.
"Perfect," Ihonette muttered to herself, a smile tugging at her lips. It was utterly perfect. Iron-root was the sort of place the bastard would end up. Why she'd not thought of it earlier was utterly beyond her. Though, getting a bit of payback against another of her so-called party members was fun, and so was fucking an entire caravan of merchant dwarfs, and...
She shook her head, smiling wistfully. It didn't matter though; the arsehole would soon be within her grasp and...
"Hear me, people of Taligan Alley!" A booming voice bellowed, drawing the shapely elf's attention as people shuffled towards what appeared to be a stage in the center of the market square, some jostling her as they did.
Ihonette quirked an eyebrow as she took in what was happening.
Four people stood on the patchwork stage. Two appeared to be some sort of town's guard, uniformed and utterly forgettable. A woman, naked, blonde, and disheveled, hung defeated between the two men. And, a man, corpulent and dressed in enough finery to put a dwarvin merchant to shame, spoke.
"A rich town-crier if I've ever seen," Ihonette mused, hearing the jowly pug-faced man's proclamations.
"For the sin of," the man began, his voice carrying across the square.
"A priest," Ihonette thought, rolling her eyes.
"Adultery and blasphemy against the church of..."
Another eye roll as she made to leave. Religion wasn't much to Ihonette and she wasn't about to...
"Lady Madeline has here by been condemned to suffer the test of a hundred phalluses."
Ihonette stopped, an eyebrow quirked as she one more faced the huddled masses and the stage beyond.
"This should be interesting."
"From now until sunset on the morrow," the man continued as the woman was dragged forward and locked into a stockade on her knees," any male, be they man or beast may use the Lady Madeline as they wish in the light of the gods, for her sins are great and only through humility and penance shall she once more be redeemed," he finished, tucking his proclamation into his coat before fumbling at his breeches to free a flaccid penis, that was easily a foot in length, and turning to face the woman.
The bound woman made to say something, but he thrust, plunging his dick down her throat. The blonde gagged, shuddering, and climaxing as the crier began pumping his hips, throwing the crowd into a frenzy of cheers while a line formed for the next person.
Sighing, Ihonette shook her head as she turned around and made to hunt her quarry. She'd already lived through something similar and she wasn't much for seeing someone else go through it. Even if it made her quim and mouth water with desire.
~The Mule's Bride
Hunting for a single middle-aged dwarf in a city of thousands should have been nigh impossible, but it'd taken merely a day and a half to track down the drunken fool. It wasn't so much, that Strudert was an easy man to track or that Ihonette was some expert tracker, but more to do with her altered rune markings. The accursed thing, he'd carved into the space above her considerable ass, burned like a hot poker as she'd hunted him down. It only worked within a mile or so of him, but it was worth it.
The now portly and haggard looking dwarf sat slumped on a bar stool, chugging what had to be his sixth or seventh mug of ale, that night. She'd watched him for close to a week now, and this was par the course for him. Whoring, gambling, and drinking were the dwarf's only reasons for living, it seemed.
Watching him guzzle down another mug, Ihonette supposed she should feel sorry for him, but she felt nothing, but utter eagerness. She'd waited ages for this and here he was, a lamb waiting to be slaughtered. Even when she'd been nothing but a broken hole for whatever dick wanted her, a piece of her shattered psyche had dreamed of this moment.
She licked her lips, downed her ale, and sauntered up to the counter, plopping into the stool next to him.
"An ale, if you don't mind," she said, motioning to the bar keep, a human man with more muscle than Ihonette thought was strictly necessary for his job," and whatever he's having," she added, pointing to Strudert.
The barkeep arched a bushy eyebrow, and the dwarf raised his head, cocking it to face her.
She smiled," come here often?"
~The Mule's Bride -- Upstairs
They were on each other like ants to honey, stumbling into Strudert's rented room. It'd been ages since he'd felt so randy and he had no idea why. Sure, the knife-eared bitch was a walking sexpot with tits big enough to make a dwarvin matriarch jealous and an ass of equal proportion, but he was no...
She moaned, melting beneath the dominance of his tongue and his grip on her derriere.
It didn't matter. He was horny, harder than he'd been in gods knew how long, getting laid, and he didn't have to pay for it.
Slam, and the door was closed behind them.
Plop, and he landed on his threadbare bed.
His room much like his bed was spartan, not that it mattered given he barely spent anytime within it, and besides...
His eyes glinted and his dick throbbed as he gazed up at the elf.
