Tae Him Bac

Terrance's tent sat on the ground, its peak shoulder-high, waiting for him. It comprised the middle of a neat row of five, capped by the smoldering remains of a cooking fire.

Terrance ducked inside and sat in his cot, sighing as he felt the familiar softness of fur. For a short while, he lay there, enjoying the sensation, then gathered himself and yanked off his boots. Reaching over, he placed them in the tent's far corner, along with his steel helmet, leather armor, falchion and supply pack.

Grass rustled under him as he reached into the pack and drew out a tough, crinkled map, which showed the capital of his native kingdom on one side, and, on the other, its new border region. The border had expanded no less than a month ago, and he and his group had been sent to guard it. For the hundredth time, he tried to estimate when they would get there.

Then he heard something. Instinctively, he reached for his weapon, then relaxed when he recognized the sound. That wasn't anything to worry about; it was the voice of Calida, one of his companions, performing magic. After listening for a few moments, he recognized the spell as a contraceptive.

'She hasn't even asked me first,' he thought with a smirk. 'She's getting brave.'

When his group was formed, Terrance had never expected to be the only male in his five-person group, and he certainly hadn't expected all four of his companions to be dominant. As his pulse quickened, he dreamily wondered what Calida would do to him this time. Maybe she would just walk in and spank him, maybe she would hogtie him and make him lick her again, or maybe she would bind him to the tent stakes, naked, spread and at her mercy.

Terrance could hardly wait.

A thrill shot through him as he heard Calida slip out from her tent. He slumped in his cot and glued his eyes to the map, trying to keep his breathing soft and regular, keeping up the appearance that he hadn't heard her.

The flaps of his tent whispered open, and there was movement beside him. The next thing he knew, strong hands gently fell over his shoulders. With a little push, the hands turned him onto his stomach and pressed him into the ground.

Terrance sensed someone crouching over him, and hot air washed over his left ear, sending heat flaring through his whole body. Under the strong, feminine touch, he went as limp as a doll.

"Are you ready to play?" huffed a female voice.

Terrance couldn't say 'no,' and he knew it. She knew it too. But she had to hear him say it.

"Yes... mistress."

A low, deep laugh danced across his ear, and he felt the hands crawl slowly down his back, around his chest to the low collar of his nightshirt. Three firm, hot points of pressure touched down on his chest, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Nice..." she hissed, drawing out the word until he shuddered.

Her hands curled dexterously around the hem of his shirt, and she slowly rolled it up. With every inch of his well-trained flesh exposed to the cold night, he felt his isolation slipping away.

Her whole weight came down on him, warm leather pressing against hot skin, and he felt a strip of hard cloth pulled into his mouth. With a few deliberate tugs, she tied it in place, muffling his speech.

"That's better," she cooed. "We can't have you making any noise, can we? If you squealed too loud, the others just might wake up and join me."

On that, she reached down- her fingers still caressing his slick skin- and insinuated one finger under his pants. Then another. Then the rest. Her thumb and forefinger found the tip of his cock and pinched. Juice sloshed inside his manhood as she rolled the foreskin around in her fingers.

"Nice..." she said again. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you, you little slut boy?"

He gave a stiff nod.

"Of course you have."

She lifted away, and her arms wrapped around his midsection, then hauled him effortlessly up to his hands and knees. With a little flick, she sent the rest of his clothes fluttering to the ground.

He braced himself to feel a spank, then flinched as her hand came down on him. But she did not strike him. Her fingertips, soft and precise as ever, danced over his skin, setting his nerves alight. Very slowly, traveling in circles like a gliding bird, she made her way between his cheeks.

Terrance cringed as he felt something touch him in his vulnerable hole. It felt like animal fat, but it was even slicker. He let out a panicked grunt as he realized what Calida would do to him.

Moments later, a wooden peg rammed into him, forcing him apart, invading his body with unstoppable deliberation. He bit down on his gag and squealed, grunting with every thrust as Calida forced herself into him again and again. He closed his eyes and focused on maintaining his balance, trying to keep his thoughts straight, only for her to scatter them with every thrust.

Finally, Calida pulled out of him, and his body went slack, suspended on his stiff arms and legs. His head lolled and his chest heaved with long, hard breaths. Then, after a few moments, he felt her omnipresent fingers on his chin, and he purred, pushing himself into her hand.

With her other hand, Calida reached down and felt for his manhood. One pinch into his smooth, hard flesh, and she knew that he was inches from exploding.

Her fingers hovered there, barely touching his manhood, one more squeeze away from sending him over the edge. Instead, she released him, pushed him slowly to the ground. With another swish of her hands, she flipped him over, cradling him.

Now he could see her. Those rock-solid brown eyes and her gentle, self-assured smile shone as hypnotically as ever, and her perfectly-fitted armor flattered her clean, powerful body.

Her eyes locked on his and held them, forbidding him to look away, as her hand reached down to his cock and made one smooth pump, pushing her thumb across his pleasure zone on the underside. All at once, he fell apart. His eyes rolled back and clamped shut, his toes curled, his legs bent and his arms went rigid. Seed gushed from him in one thick wave after another. When the third spurted out, the tension left him, and he relaxed. His eyes opened just enough to focus on her.

She laid him back down on his cot and whisked off his gag, then laid herself tenderly beside him and wrapped her arms over his soft, strong chest.

As he drifted off to sleep, Terrance realized that he had not had intercourse with her. Calida's weaving of the contraceptive spell had been a decoy- a mere red herring that she had wanted him to hear.

As always, the female had stayed one step ahead of him.

* * *

Karla's eyes eased open. Something was abnormal. It couldn't be one of the other women playing with Terrance again; Calida had already fallen asleep with him, and it was too late for that besides. Something else was afoot, and Karla would not rest until she knew more.

Softly, she donned her boots and helmet, then took up her sword and peeked out of the tent.

The next thing she knew, a something blunt struck her square in the face. With a shout, she leapt back, swinging her falchion and tearing through the back of her tent. Turning around, she saw a group of dark-cloaked figures, ropes coiled around their gloved hands. One of them slipped into Terrance's tent, and she saw Calida dart out, followed by Terrance's nimble form. One of them lunged, and Terrance yelped and fell on his face.

Before Karla could react, a pair of hands clapped over her face and yanked her off balance. Tiny fingers pried her sword from her hand, a thick blindfold came down over her eyes and her nightclothes came away in fistfuls. All at once, her covers gave out and fell around her, exposing her to a withering shock of cold as her skin met the night air. A hand found its way to her left breast, and two sharp points of pain flared up on her nipple. She threw her head back and squealed, then felt a soft, rounded cylinder pushed into her mouth. A strap curled around her face, and she struggled for a few moments, vainly trying to force the invader out. As her resistance ebbed, she felt someone tie her hands, then push her, knocking her onto a wooden surface. Voices whispered to one another incomprehensibly, wooden wheels chewed through soft mud, and she heard moaning in three voices. She recognized Masha and Natalia's half-stifled whimpers, and she blushed at Terrance's unmistakable, high-pitched yips.

But she heard no sign of Calida.

* * *

Terrance knelt on the stage, his eyes on the ground. His hands and feet were bound with rough, thick ropes, as they had been for the entirety of the week-long trip, and there was something strapped into his mouth. It was shaped like a cock, and it had the texture of one, giving almost imperceptibly as his tongue passed over it. He sucked on it, and he felt a drop of thick, sweet juice issuing out onto his tongue. His eyes closed as he basked in the flavor for a moment.

Terrance forced himself to refocus. The stage was packed with boys, all stripped, bound and gagged like he was, overlooking a town square covered in stone tiles. Around them rose palatial houses made of what looked like white chalk, with rounded, edgeless roofs and cylindrical columns.

The square itself was packed with visitors, staring eagerly up at the many stages arrayed before them. In front of Terrance, the crowd had almost-even mix of men and women, organized into what looked like couples, all of them dressed in luxurious reds and purples. The men looked up with everything ranging from mild disgust to passive interest, and their wives grinned toothily. A few unaccompanied women were scattered through the crowd, staring at the boys with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, like hunters waiting to strike.

A woman strutted onto the stage, clad in rich ribbons that coiled around her breasts and hips, disappearing onto her skin. Immediately, she had the eyes of most of the men, including Terrance.

She stood behind Terrance and shouted out short phrases in a language Terrance did not understand, gesturing grandiosely and pawing at his hair, then the strap of his gag. She untied the device, then, very slowly, she drew the artificial cock out from Terrance's mouth. Without thinking about it, Terrance kept his lips locked around the thing, sucking a few more drops of sweetness before it finally came out. The auctioneer held up the implement, watching as it dripped with his saliva.

The crowd erupted with feminine cheers, and male voices started calling out, holding up baskets of gold. The auctioneer listened with a growing smile, then descended on Terrance, running her hands up and down his thin, well-toned arms and finally down to his masculinity. Two fingers curled around the tip of his erection and pulled slowly up, like chains hoisting a drawbridge. Terrance closed his eyes and flushed with bright red as his testicles felt the warm, open air.

Finally, the auctioneer let him go and pointed to someone in the crowd, and a lone woman stepped up onto the stage, keeping her stride stately and her manner calm.

Terrance turned to get a close look at her, and his blush took on a different hue.

When he looked into her eyes, what remained of Terrance's nerve melted away in an instant. Two small green beacons, framed by lightly tanned skin and razor-sharp eyebrows, seared dominance at him. Terrance could feel her mind probing around in his, learning things about him that even he did not know. He stayed still and accepted her stare, unable to move.

Finally, she looked away, releasing him, and he got a moment to look at the rest of her. Her figure lacked musculature, but she carried herself with aristocratic poise. Thick bands of cloth, embroidered with gold, crisscrossed her figure, and bright copper hair flowed out from beneath the sharp, curved line of her dark grey hood.

"Get up," she ordered, in his tongue.

Terrance lurched to obey, then his foot bindings went taught, and he tumbled and fell flat on his face. He heard a wave of laughter from the crowd, which immediately stopped registering as he felt fingers on his chin. His head tipped up, and he saw the glowering face of his buyer.

"You should have told me you couldn't do it," she mumbled. "Hold still, and I will unbind you."

"Sorry," said Terrance.

There was rush of air and a light, sharp sting on his left ass cheek.

"Haven't they trained you? You will call me 'mistress' every time I address you. Do you understand me?"

The words caught in Terrance's mouth. The name 'mistress' was not a real title to him; it was a code word for when his companions dominated him- a way to let them know that they had him in their control. And now this woman demanded that he use it as a rank.

"Yes, mistress," he got out, before she could spank him again.

There was a long pause, broken only by distant conversation and the soft grinding noise of rope on rope, and his hand came free. The next moment, small hands seized his wrists, tensed up and hauled him to his feet. The hands released his arms and fastened around his neck. When they came away, there was a tight leather collar strapped around it.

Terrance knew better than to reach up and touch it. He stared straight ahead, letting the woman do what she wanted with him.

The mistress circled leisurely out in front of him and tied a red ribbon around the front of his collar, then held it in one hand and gave it a few experimental tugs. The knot held.

With aloof little huff, the woman turned and led Terrance down the stage, across the city square. The crowd parted for his mistress, and Terrance ducked his head as he felt scores of hands feeling his skin, grabbing for his cock, spanking his ass, even trying to force into his mouth.

Terrance whimpered. Submitting to a female would be easy for him. But being a slave would not.

* * *

Calida stepped carefully down the street, admiring the soft white curves and columns of the buildings around her and the immaculate stone tiles that made up the street.

She was sure Terrance had been taken to this city, but beyond that, the trail went cold. What she could be sure of was that the lot of women was different in this kingdom. The men on the street vastly outnumbered the women, and what few who were out either marched in lockstep with a man, or were led by one on a leash. A few leashed boys caught her eye, but most of them wore shabby robes or simple rags. Disappointingly few of them were dressed to please.

Calida knew that the people who had captured Terrance had been slavers, and they had almost certainly come to sell him here. And, if the people of this kingdom had any appreciation for a cute boy, Terrance could have only been sold as a sex slave. That was where she would start.

At a bustling square, where markets and stages stood like frames around salesmen who hawked their goods, Calida ducked behind the biggest few stages at the edge and spotted a man under a tiny stall, counting up trinkets of gold while three men spoke to him conspiratorially.

Pretending to be casual, Calida sauntered up to the man and said, "Sir, may I have a word with you?"

All four men jumped, and the man at the desk locked his eyes on Calida. There was a moment of silence as he eyed her up and down, processing the armed, leather-clad female figure before him.

"May I help you?" he said at last.

"Hello," she mewled with fake shyness, "I was wondering if you could tell me where they last sold slave boys for sex."

"You've come to the right place," said the man at the desk, a well-built young man with a simple moustache to compliment his back hair. "The last auction was just a day or two ago."

"Was there a boy sold here just a little under my height? With light brown hair, white skin and blue eyes? He's really thin, and shy, but he's also strong. I think he used to be a soldier."

The man thought for a moment and said, "Yes, I remember. I remember who bought him, too."

"Can you tell me who it was?"

"Better- I'll take you there. Provided, that is, we stop at my place first."

He said this with a lewd tinge, and Calida immediately realized that he intended to be paid back for his efforts. Without moving, she considered the possibility that this was a trap.

"Besides," said the man, "In this kingdom, it's not proper for a lady to be unaccompanied. You could run into trouble on your own."

Suspecting that the last clause was true, Calida made her decision.

With a careful effort, she reassumed her waifish manner and said, "Okay. I'll go with you."

The man rose, daintily took her hand, then led her out into the street. Calida looked back and saw the other three men trade stymied glances, then go their separate ways.

As they walked, the man ran his mouth about businesses and politics and gossip, all while his hand crawled up her arm, then brushed over her firm side. She looked over to the man, and his eyes broadcasted lust.

It occurred to her to be disgusted, but, as she stared back at him, Calida could only register curiosity. She had never bedded a man who acted like this before.

'Mother always said it was good to try new things,' she thought.

A few minutes later, the man steered Calida down an ostentatiously wide residential street, then into a comparatively modest cell-like house.

The exact minute they were inside, the man's hand came over Calida's buttocks. She broke cover for a moment, brushing him calmly away.

"This is going to be good," said the man aloud. "Mazoon! Come in here!"

Into the room stepped a short, dark-skinned woman who looked to be only a few years younger than Calida, with short black hair that hung at jawbone height and with wide, almost sad blue eyes. A collar with a single decorative lace coiled loosely around her neck, and a simple mauve dress with diagonal slashes covered her diminutive form.

"Mazoon," said the man, his voice full of smugness, "We've got a... special... guest today. Get her ready, will you, my dear? And take all the time you need. You know a good job is better than a quick one."

"Yes, master," said Mazoon. "Come this way, ma'am."

Calida followed the black woman down a set of stairs, casually scanning for any signs of a trap, and stopped at a small but lavish bedroom.

"My master brought you here to bed you," said Mazoon. "He usually does that with girls he does favors for."

"I understand," said Calida politely. "I had gathered that."

"You are smarter than most of the girls he brings here," said Mazoon.

Calida took a moment to be abashed by Mazoon's bluntness, then replied, "Where I come from, you learn to pick up on subtleties like that."

"Now," said Mazoon, "just relax."

Gently, Mazoon unstrapped the first layer of Calida's armor and lifted it away, then placed it with respectful care on a table.

In this manner, Calida's clothes slowly came away, one piece a time, revealing a well-toned shoulder here, a tight stomach muscle there, then her firm, tightly rounded ass. Lastly, Mazoon pulled away the warrior's bra, revealing two feminine mounds melded onto Calida's formidable body.

Blush crept across Mazoon's face as she reached over and cupped one of Calida's breasts, then the other, massaging them smoothly. Calida opened her mouth to stop her, but only a light moan escaped her. This woman knew exactly what to do; she pressed in exactly the right places, not too softly and not too hard. All the while, Mazoon whispered a transferrable contraceptive spell. Calida stiffened up as she felt the light shock of magic course through her.

Mazoon's hands crept down Calida's body, gentle fingers teasing her nerves, until finally the slave girl knelt. Calida looked down, confused, then she felt warm wetness brush across her femininity.

Calida sagged and huffed, struggling to keep her composure as Mazoon drew tingling lines through her sex, making straight for her pleasure spots. Then, after five strokes, she came away.