Ravier needed to fuck. He had spent the whole morning struggling to control his arousal. Being locked in a small Transport with Rachel had been almost unbearable. He could hear his own blood roaring in his ears, calling on him to leap on Rachel and devour her. Even his men had been visibly affected. The pressure had eased when Sabine lead Rachel away to prepare her for the ritual but his cock was still thick against his thigh.
He turned his gaze to Jenna and a grin spread across his face. It was a requirement that the Sponsor of a Courtesan should have rigorous sex before the blessing; it demonstrated his trust that the Founder would give him the strength to carry out his role in the ritual. Sabine had given him Jenna to carry out this tradition.
Jenna was dressed as a handmaiden, available for Ravier’s pleasure, but it was clear to him that Jenna was more than that. The Brotherhood did not publicise the existence of female assassins but Ravier’s father had sometimes used them and Ravier recognised the signs; Jenna’s gait, the development of her muscles, the lack of fear in her eyes, were all warning signs to him. He doubted that Sabine would harm him in her own House, but it was possible that Jenna was working for someone-else.
“Strip,” he said to Jenna.
“Here, my Lord?”
He was sure that Jenna meant to look coy, pretending to be shocked at the idea of being naked in a public place, but she didn’t quite manage to hide her amusement.
Ravier slapped her across the face with the flat of his hand. He saw the fighter’s reflex start and then be subdued. Jenna could have avoided the blow. She had let him hit her.
“Of course, my Lord,” Jenna said. She kept eye contact with him as she undid the fastenings at her shoulders and let the robe drop to her feet.
Ravier’s cock pulsed. Her body was all hard curves and smooth flesh. It was a canvas he wanted to paint with pain.
“Put your hands on your head and turn around in a circle.”
Jenna moved slowly, displaying herself to him and his men. She knew she was being searched for weapons. They both knew that she was lethal even without a blade.
“Tie her hands behind her back.”
Two of Ravier’s men held Jenna’s arms. They pressed themselves against her while their comrade worked cruel knots to bind her wrists.
“Bring her,” Ravier said and strode towards the tent Sabine had prepared for him.
Jenna was forced to her knees in front of Ravier. His men stayed at the perimeter of the tent. They should have been guarding him but that seemed pointless when the main threat was already amongst them.
Ravier released himself from his trousers. His cock felt hot in his hand. His balls hung heavily. He pressed against Jenna’s mouth and pushed his cock inside. She grinned around his flesh and pushed herself forward, forcing her head further down his shaft. Ravier lost himself to it then, holding her head, ploughing her mouth. No subtly, just haste. Even as he came he was thinking of Rachel: Rachel spread on the horse, Rachel with his sperm on her face and hair, Rachel being carried naked and exhausted in his arms. It was all he could do not to cry out her name.
He came inside Jenna and then pushed her roughly away. His three Security looked at her as if they would tear her apart. Ravier didn’t want that. He wasn’t completely certain they would all survive it.
“Get women and wine for my men”, he shouted. Invisible listeners met his needs. Sabine knew how to keep men happy; within minutes there were six women in the tent. Ravier sat in a field-chair and watched his men take their pleasure. At first they dived in like starving men. Like him they were still riding the erotic wake Rachel seemed to leave behind her. A few minutes later, after the first come, they slowed down and started swapping the women, commenting on this one’s tightness or that one’s nipples.
Ravier’s mind returned to Rachel, playing with images of her being painted in preparation for the ritual. He wondered what Sabine was saying to her, hoping that it was enough to keep her safe and not so much as to corrupt her entirely.
He ignored Jenna, waiting to see what her next move would be. She had stayed on her knees, watching him watch his men fuck. Now she crawled back to him on her knees, her hands still bound behind her. He didn’t remember giving her the bruise on her face but he smiled to see it there.
Jenna kissed his feet and then slid her breasts up his shin and rubbed her face along his thigh. It was an impressive display of muscle control. With her lips pressed against his balls and his wet cock lolling on her forehead, she looked up and said, “If you will risk untying me, my Lord, I will show you how skilled my hands are.”
For the first time in days, Ravier laughed. He pulled a knife from his boot and sliced through her bonds, leaving a rope bracelet around each wrist because he liked the look.
Jenna sucked one of Ravier’s balls into her mouth and moved her head backwards, pulling him just hard enough to give him a little pain. Before Ravier could place his knife at her throat, she released him, smiled and said, “Thank you, my Lord.”
Ravier kept the knife level with her face but raised his hips enough to let Jenna pull his leather trousers down to his knees. Part of his mind was clammering for his attention, saying “she’s hobbled you and you’ve cut her free. Your men are busy. This is when you die.” Ravier’s cock stirred at the thought.
Jenna shook her shoulders and rotated her wrists, still on her knees. Ravier watched the movement of her breasts and only saw her arm flick forward a second before her left hand gripped the base of his ball sack.
She squeezed, hard enough to make him breathe in but not hard enough to hurt. She had his full attention now. She smiled, no longer demure, and slid the fingers of her right hand into her cunt. Still frigging herself, she leant forward and rubbed her face against Ravier’s stiffening cock.
Ravier ran the edge of his blade along Jenna’s shoulder, not breaking the skin; just reminding her of how quickly she could die. She turned her face toward the blade and ran her tongue along the sharp edge. Blood flowed from the shallow cut, dripping over her chin and down on to her breasts. Ravier’s cock twitched to full attention.
Jenna released Ravier’s balls, turned away from him and with deliberate slowness, placed her cheek on the floor, her arse in the air and pulled herself open for him. She licked her lips, sucking in the blood, slid her hands across the smooth curve of her arse and pushed one finger all the way into her ring.
“My Lady thought it wise to make sure I was oiled for you, my Lord. She says that the pain is more than worth it. Is she right?
Ravier slid to the floor, kneeling behind Jenna. The blow he delivered to her was so hard it made his men look up from their fucking. The women servicing them flinched as a second, harder blow landed on Jenna’s arse.
“Lady Sabine is always right. Her handmaiden should know this.”
“I do, my Lord I do,” Jenna said wiggling her reddening arse from side to side. “Let me please you, my Lord. I can make it memorable if you will let me.”
Ravier had had many, many women. Few of them had proved memorable. But then, he’d never taken an assassin before. Ravier’s cock didn’t care about what would be remembered, only about what would happen right now. As brutally as he could, Ravier forced himself into Jenna’s arse. She was tight and smooth. Then she surprised him. She pushed her hand into her cunt and stroked his cock, pressing it, pushing it, teasing it. There was no question of him withdrawing. Every moved she made was to take him deeper and keep him there. When he was pressed up against her arse with her fingers strumming the head of his cock, she tightened her ring.
If Ravier had believed in sorcery, he would have taken this as evidence of it. Her muscle gripped him like a bite and then let go. Then gripped. Then let go. He was being milked into her bowels. He tried to pull out but she would not release him. He was like a dog locked into a bitch. So he treated her like a bitch. He bent over her back, dug his fingers into her breasts and bit her neck. He came at the first taste of blood. She released him only after she had sucked out the last drop of his sperm.
When he rolled off her, breathless, dizzy, he realised that his men and the women they were using were looking at him. They all had the same look in their eyes, lust spiced with envy.
Jenna was the only person in the tent who was still calm and composed. She knelt in front of Ravier, naked, stained with blood and cum, hair wet with sweat, smiled at him demurely, bowed her head and said, “Thank you my Lord. It was a pleasure to serve. May I prepare you for the ritual now?”
Ravier decided that Jenna was memorable. She had even managed to make him forget Rachel for a while. The mention of the ritual brought her back into his mind. He was spent. His cock hung limp and useless between his legs. It was time to display himself to the public. He stripped off his clothes and headed out into the courtyard, Jenna following politely two steps behind him.
Ravier stood at the centre of the dais and let Jenna begin her work. A crowd had formed to witness the blessing. A path had been kept clear from the gateway at the far side of the courtyard to the dais. Rachel would enter along that path. Ravier focused his vision on the gateway while Jenna chanted and worked on his flesh. He wanted to see Rachel the moment she entered the courtyard.
A tingling warmth spread up Ravier’s spine. He felt his cock unfurl like a fern in the morning sun. The crowd murmured their appreciation.
“You are ready, my Lord,” Jenna said, “The young Lady will be truly blessed.”
The edge of amusement to her voice told Ravier that, even though she was kneeling naked before him, with his sperm leaking from her, and her face coloured by the bruises he had given her, she still proud almost to the point of defiance.
Ravier controlled the impulse to hit Jenna again. He wanted to look imposing and powerful; the embodiment of the Founder; hitting Jenna might make him look petulant. He reminded himself that the crowd had not heard Jenna’s tone. All they could see was a naked servant carrying out her role in the ceremony, staring devoutly at his erection.
The erection was substantial. His cock was so hard it slapped up against his belly, belying the fact that he had come twice within the past half hour. The tip was swollen and had a purple hue to it, every vein along his shaft was sharply defined, but what caught the eye was the calligraphy. Jenna had painted the Founder’s blessing in gold luminescent ink in a spiral around his cock: “Blessed is he who stands firm in the service of the Founder”.
According to tradition, the strength of Ravier’s erection was a measure of his favour with the Founder, a blessing that he would pass on to the Supplicant Courtesan on the Founder’s behalf.
Ravier did not believe in that kind of magic. He knew that the real source of this blessing was the ink that Jenna had used. It contained a chemical, absorbed through the skin, which altered the flow of his blood, engorging him almost to the point of pain. He would stay hard for a long time now and, because of his recent activity, he would only come under severe provocation. He returned his gaze to the gateway and waited for provocation to arrive.
© Mike Kimera 2001 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from firstname.lastname@example.org
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