The Venus Flytap (Closed.)

(Closed for Cherubian.)


The sound of chirping songbirds amongst the dense trees of the Black Forest heralded the dawn of a new spring day, the sun rising over the snow capped peaks of Mount Karidin to the southeast. A light morning mist clung to the base of the mountain range, slowly dissipating as the rays of light crept out over the forest, banishing both the darkness and the chill left over from the previous night. Sounds of human activity echoed through the trees despite the early hour, and the acrid stench of burnt wood overpowered the fresh smell of spring renewal in the air. Such was the way of life for the peasants who called the village Hinderstap their home. In spite of the underlying appearance of a serene spring morning, disaster had struck the village by night for the third time in a fortnight. The raiders had once again come under the cover of darkness to burn and pillage, leaving several of their homes smoldering, a few of the womenfolk abducted and several of the towns makeshift militia members severly wounded or dead. The remaining villagers were left to take stock of the damage now that the sun had risen, bringing with it the promise of safety as the raiders had only ever struck during the darkest hours of the night. Men young and old rushed to put out the homes still left smoldering, women and girls taking stock of the loss to their food stores and patching up the wounded militiamen. They moved with an almost practiced speed, as if this were no strange occurance and everyone already knew their place and role. A hardy, simple people accustomed to hardship, the villagers of Hinderstap certainly knew how to endure.

Nestled in the shadow of Mount Karidin to the south and flanked by the thick woodlands of the Black Forest to the north, east and west, the small human settlement of Hinderstap marked the southernmost boundary of the Kingdom of Dyr. Situated roughly one hundred leagues to the south of the walled provincial capital city of Tarstrum, Hinderstap was a byproduct of attempted southern expansion during more prosperous and ambitious times. After years of heavy fighting with the monstrous tribes of the Southlands, dwindling coffers and waning support for the failing campaign in the noble circles of the capital cities forced the King's hand, ultimately ending the conflict in an uneasy armistice that exists to the present day. The human King refused to admit defeat and end with the war labeled a failure, and with no real organized enemy leadership on the part of the non-human tribes with which to negotiate, both sides essentially walked away from the war with no formal treaty ever signed. The collection of monstrous tribes, consisting mainly of Orcs and other goblinoids, were content to return to their piecemeal raiding of the human settlements and avoid large-scale conflict altogether. The King's armies withdrew to the capital cities to once more maintain peace in the prosperous inner circle of the realm, leaving the small settlements that had sprung up during the war on the outskirts of Dyr territory to fend for themselves. These settlements are still formally within the boundaries of the Kingdom of Dyr, and therefore owe fealty to the human King, but rarely encounter anyone bearing the royal seal apart from the King's Tax Collectors.

Since the end of the war and the withdrawal of the King's armies, villages such as Hinderstap have come to depend on the services of an unaffiliated sect of warriors, known colloquially as the "Hunters", for protection from the horrors of the wilds. Orcish raiding parties, wandering Ogres, bands of cutt-throat human marauders; the list of predators seeking to profit from the suffering of others is never in short supply. The Hunters are an unaffiliated group of mercenaries and bounty hunters, wandering the lawless southern countryside that Dyr has abandoned to the wilds in search of employment. A contract, as in the process through which a Hunter is hired and the terms and payment are agreed upon, is negotiated and carried out by the individual Hunter, with rates generally varying by the length and difficulty of the job. Stories circulate amongst tavern common rooms of Village Leaders foolish enough to attempt to withhold payment after the contract is fulfilled, and of the Hunter's sometimes violent method of extracting what's owed. Fanciful barroom tales aside, Hunters are not generally the charitable type and expect to be paid for services rendered, and any man capable of hunting an Orcish raid party should not lightly be crossed by the likes of a peasant farmer.

Hinderstap has been without the services of a Hunter since before winter, and although heavy snow has kept the hamlet relatively safe since then, the thawing warmth of spring has seen a yearly renewal of its raider troubles. Hinderstap is a small village of around thirty families, houses arranged to either side of the King's road that bisects the town. The road was constructed during the war as a supply route and runs north all the way to the capital city. A humble village on it's best day, Hinderstap outwardly showed the signs of the raider's torches on the walls and roofs of it's buildings, in the cries of it's families that mourned the loss of a young militiaman or fair daughter. Villagers went about their tasks with eyes cast at the ground, stubbornly repairing the damage yet fearing it useless against the silent promise of future destruction. The raiders would surely move on, but not before they'd had their fill of Hilderstap women. Any material goods worth taking had been gone the first night, and at this point, any further action was surely just a wicked game being played out for the fufillment of the raider's sadistic sexual appetites.

It was never a good sign when the first thing you encountered from a village was its smell. Ysrel's nostrils flared lightly as she took in the scent of charred wood damp from the morning dew. The smell of ruin. The smell of trouble. The smell of a potential contract.

She had climbed out of her bedroll about half an hour before dawn to be on her way. Had she known how close Hinderstap was she might have pressed onward the last night, for better or worse, but these were unfamiliar lands for her, to the west of the reaches she had roamed for the last couple years. She had met success there in the east, and surely she could have stayed longer, the mountain orcs almost guaranteeing a steady income, but finally she grew restless and moved on eager to see new lands and meet new people. And to let the stirring rumors die down.

Ysrel did not even know the name of the small hamlet she was approaching. A trapper had pointed her in the direction, mumbling something about "south on the old King's road" and that was where she had gone. It had been several days since then, and while she was accustomed to sleeping in the wilds, by now she was looking forward to a real bed for a change. If there was enough time to rest. If there was a village left at all. Her boots trod on over the cracked stones, her pace increasing. She wanted to get to the village now, to sate her curiosity.

It took her another twenty minutes until sight and sound joined the smell to give her the complete picture of Hinderstap. Located deep in the forest on what could best be described as a very large clearing stood more than a score of houses, most still intact, some definitely not so. She halted for a moment at the edge of the forest and surveyed the carnage the raiders had wrought as well as the unfazed determination with which the villagers went about the repairs. Having seen enough she went on. Surely the first of the hamlet's inhabitants had become aware of her presence now, and in this crowd she stood out.

For one there was her attire. No simple linen or wool, her garments were mostly dark brown studded leather, cuirass and breeches, metal inlaid in several places. A wide belt was slung around her waist, holding a dagger and a pouch. And then there was what was wrapped in these leathers. She was astonishingly beautiful, not even her armor or the occasional dirt stains that were unavoidable after days out in the wilds could hide that fact. It was as if all the lusty men of the continent had conspired to create the perfect embodiment of their want. A seductive and slender build of average height, perfectly shaped legs crowned by a firm and petite ass and a slim waist, and maybe her most striking feature, her breasts, large and eye catching as they stood out even under the thick leather of her chest piece. So remarkable was that feature that many men did not get to admire her beautiful, delicate face dominated by dark brown eyes. Her skin was of a light, almost eerie complexion, and her mane of raven black hair was woven into a single thick braid.

If that was not enough to arouse the villager's curiosity there was the sword strapped across her back. Somewhere between a great sword and a bastard sword it seemed quite large and heavy on such a lightly built woman, and some would consider it an exaggeration. In truth it was a necessity of her trade. While her hunting techniques were varied and plentiful, sometimes violence was the only solution. It took only an expertly wielded dagger to take down a man, but men were not her only prey. Larger targets required larger tools, never would a dagger suffice to behead a troll. So she had spent considerable time and coin to purchase this weapon, wrought of the finest Darazzen steel. The design was a bit outdated today, the blade and guard wider than in recently crafted swords, but it was as keen as ever.

The first men and women had briefly paused in their work, looking in her direction as she passed by, smiling at them. Not long, she knew, and she would be approached. Until then she continued to walk towards the center of the settlement where a large building with a prominent sign seemed to represent the local tavern.

The villagers eyed the new arrival with a mixture of apprehension and admiration. Apprehension on the part of the village women who were momentarily concerned by the arrival of an armed stranger. Armed with a giant sword no less, one that all in the village save the blacksmith would find unwieldy. The men, however, took full advantage of the momentary lack of female attention to steal admiring glances at her leather-hugged curves. It wasn't that the sight of her sword wasn't shocking to them, only that they found her 'physical attributes' the more impressive feature. For a few moments the morning's repair work ground to a halt as overactive male imaginations stripped the concealing leather garments from her form and female eyes weighed the oversized sword strapped across her back. One fellow in particular, the village thatcher by the looks of the practiced repairs he was moments earlier making to the roof his ladder was currently propped against, was so taken aback by the sight of the voluptuous newcomer that he almost fell from his perch. The women, seemingly satisfied that the woman had not come to do them harm, turned to resume their work, and if as on cue, the men cleared their throats, shuffled their feet and quickly followed suit. A few of her more persistent admirers had to be shooed and smacked into action by their now angry wives or mothers, but the tempo of the frantic morning gradually resumed as she continued up the road towards the tavern.

The tavern was the only two-story building in the village, and judging from the blackened wood siding and the recently repaired door, it had not been spared during the attacks. The sign post beside the door held only a simple plank of wood with the words "The Dragon's Boot" carved out across it in place of the fanciful painted signs marking taverns and inns in the larger towns across the realm. How the proprietor came up with such an odd name is a long, and rather dull, tale that he loves to 'entertain' his guests with over tankards of his famously watered-down ale. A smaller sign suspended from small metal hooks hangs below the first, proclaiming simply, "Rooms Available." In keeping with the hamlet it resides in, the inside of the "Boot" is rather nondescript; a large hearth built into the wall opposite the entrance, a few long wooden tables surrounded by chairs and a bar to the left just inside the door make up the rooms primary decor. A staircase against the back wall leads up to the private rooms, all of which are currently vacant and have been for some time. With little in the way of visitors or travelers passing through the village, the "Boot" primarily serves as a tavern and gathering place for social events.

The Village Elder's home lies on the south end of the village, and busy with repairs to his own home, the Elder was not among the people to witness Ysrel's entrance. Busy around the back side of his house repairing the fence around his goat pen, Elder Thomas was startled as his son emerged from the side of the house, running breathlessly before skidding to a stop in front of his father and bending to brace his hands on his thighs. Thomas straightened, dropping the hammer he had been using for the repairs in preparation to make a run for the house nearby. "What is it boy, raiders?". The young man shook his head frantically. "No...Woman...a Hunter...here," the boy managed to burst out between gasps of air. Thomas frowned, moving forward to rest a hand on his son's shoulder. "Alright boy, compose yourself. Tell me exactly what has gotten you all riled up.". The son took a few deep breaths and straightened. "A Hunter has finally arrived father...but not like any of the others. A woman Hunter!". Thomas frowned, eyeing the boy suspiciously. "You're sure that's her trade, she made it known that she's here a contract?". The boy shook his head. "No, father, but she's one if I ever saw one...she carries a giant sword and the way she moves...and not that it has anything to do with being a Hunter, but she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and she has the biggest set of..." the young man had started to gesture as if he were cupping a large pair of breasts in front of him, but a sharp clearing of the throat from his mother, who in his excitement he'd failed to notice off behind his father, cut him short. Thomas nodded, intrigued by both concepts, but he quickly pushed on to avoid drawing the ire of his wife. "I've neither seen nor heard of any female Hunters...Well I'd better see to her then, find out why she's here and if she is really what she appears.". His son nodded, relieved to have changed the subject, and pointed back towards the center of the village. "I saw her walking towards the 'Boot' as I was making my way here." Thomas nodded as he pushed past the boy, hurrying alongside the house to the road out front, stopping to look back halfway as his wife called out to him. "Oh Thomas...do try to keep from oogling this woman's tits while you're at it.". Thomas's cheeks colored a bit, due both to embarrassment and the fact that his wife knew him all too well and had called him on it. "Yes, dear...". And with that Thomas set out towards the tavern, running his hands through his thinning grey hair in an attempt to make himself more presentable.

Thomas moved with at a brisk pace despite his age, his eyes on the figure walking towards him that he knew must be the Hunter. As he moved closer the details of her appearance began to come into focus. Armor, sword...the trappings of a warrior, no doubt. But so out of place with the beautiful, smiling face set above her shoulders. As he drew closer she could also make out his own features more clearly. A man in his late years, perhaps fifty seasons or so. Short, almost extraordinarily so, with completely gray hair and a slight gut stretching out over his belt. He walked with a purpose, but as he drew closer to her, the expression on his face slowly shifted from disbelief to wonderment. He kept moving forward, his jaw slowly slackening until his mouth hung completely open, his eyes locked on the gravity defying orbs that so temptingly stretched the front of her studded leather jerkin. Thomas had always lusted after busty women, despite his wife's own near flat-chested lack of endowment, and it was as if his ultimate fantasy woman had been plucked from his dreams and placed here before him. He stopped moving forward a few feet in front of her, head eye level with her breasts due to his height, staring silently for a few moments before emerging from his trance...and suddenly realizing that he, the Village Elder of all people, had just done exactly what his wife had told him not to do. He'd just oogled the breasts of a woman with a sword that was almost longer than he was tall, not to mention the assumption that she was a Hunter and probably knew how to use the weapon to devastating effect. His mouth snapped shut as his eyes shot up to look into hers, the fear evident in his eyes. "Pardon my rude behavior miss...". Hoping to push past the events of the last few seconds, he moved on to introductions. "My name is Thomas, and I am the Village Elder. Might I inquire as to what would bring such a...beautiful...woman to our humble village?". The Elder pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing his forehead nervously as he awaited her answer.

It had not taken very long indeed, until she was directly approached. The man was of rather small stature, but he headed straight towards her with that aura of decisiveness that was characteristic for civilian leaders out here on the fringe of the kingdom. That was, until he had gotten close enough, and lost himself in thought. Rather indecent thoughts it seemed judging by where his gaze was fixated. That was another thing Ysrel was used to by now, and she had long since stopped being bothered by it. Strictly speaking the older man’s involuntary lapse into juvenile horniness was a compliment for her, and she considered it as exactly that. So she refrained from chuckling at him or any other, similar attempt at ridicule, and waited patiently, smilingly, until Thomas had gathered his wits again.

“You call that rude?” she finally replied, now definitely grinning. “Then you have seen nothing yet” Well, she had. “Well met, master Thomas. My name is Ysrel and I thank you for your compliments.” Confirming her words with a small nod of her head. “Why I am here? I am mostly just passing through looking for an opportunity to earn some coin should one present itself.” Now her smile widened even more, and it gained an impish nature “Why, what would you want the purpose for my visit to be?” As a tribute to her playful nature she had intentionally been vague about confirming her main profession, although that one had correctly been guessed by most villagers already.

Thomas the Elder was momentarily taken aback by her reaction to his lewd act of open-mouthed staring only seconds before. Her reaction was not at all what he had expected, and the genuine warmth of her smile set his previous fear of her retribution at ease. He wiped his forehead one last time with the handkerchief before replacing it in his pocket, the look of dread across his face replaced with a pleasant smile. He could detect the hint of playfulness in her voice and her smile, and despite the fact that the rational portion of his brain told him that such a woman would never be interested in the likes of him, the perverted portion that had long laid dormant assumed control, blocking out all other thought process to allow for a moment of flirtation with this ravishing woman. The needs of his libido took a momentary shift in priority above the needs of his village.

"Well my lady Ysrel, I would be lieing if I said that, upon partaking of your beauty with my own eyes, I hadn't hoped that my greatest wish had come true, and that the woman of my dreams had come forth from the wilds to fufill my wildest fantasies.".

Thomas's cheeks colored for a moment, as if the rational side of his brain had realized what he had said. He maintained his pleasant smile however, pushing his inhibitions back and resuming his, what was for him at least, rather forward and inappropriate tone of conversation. "You see my lady, I have for some time lusted after a woman of your great...proportions, and now that I find myself face to face with such a woman, I cannot help but express my desire to be allowed to even gaze upon such treasures freed from the confines of their prison.". His eyes drifted hungrily down to her chest once more, brazenly admiring her breasts openly. Years of repressing his sex drive and making due with the only very occasional, and very dull, sexual encounter with his wife had boiled through to the surface. Chances are great, certain in fact, as she had already stated, that Ysrel had heard much more 'colorful' and 'descriptive' forms of 'dirty talk' in her time, but for a man of Thomas's upbringing, such forwardness was downright obscene. He was a well read man, or as well as a villager cut off from civilized society could be, and spoke notably well for a man of his station. Although it was the first time he had ever spoken in that manner, surely something from one of the less 'reputable' books he had read had contained something of the sort from which he had drawn inspiration for it to have flowed so naturally.

His smile took a playful turn as he once again looked up into her eyes. "That said, I cannot imagine your true purpose was to come and listen to some babbling old man describe his fantasies..." His innermost thoughts and desires expressed, his rational brain once again took over his speech functions. "And I do apologize if my lady thinks me too forward. I'm afraid that I am but a simple country man, and I am a bit taken aback by your arrival.". He paused for a moment to gauge her reaction to everything that he had said, with hope that in the very least he had not angered her enough to prevent her from staying long enough to discuss buisness.

Ysrel was momentarily taken aback by the man’s blatant and open admissal of his carnal desires, as was evidences by raised eyebrows, widened eyes and pursed lips. Rarely had she met someone who had expressed his longing for her body in such a cultivated and yet honest way. Usually it was either a backhanded and contrived seduction scheme or a rather blunt and crude command of someone who deemed himself in superior position. And she did not find the idea to adhere to his wishes all that far fetched. Some part of her was already stirring at the thought of being mounted by the small elderly man, more so after a few lonely days out in the wilderness. Not yet, she tried to calm herself down, not yet…

While the whole extent of her thoughts on the matter were hardly discernable from her expression, it was evident that she was not angered in the least. After all, what exactly should she fault him for? Honesty? Liking her physique? That would not make sense. So her friendly smile pertained as her facial expression shifted back to normal and she began her reply.

“You are refreshingly honest, master Thomas, and that is appreciated.” She tried to make it evident that she was serious about that last sentence, before she dove into a tease “I am just wondering how urgent your drive is. Would you want me to strip right here and let you have me on the ground while the whole village is watching – maybe even participating, or could you restrain yourself long enough to drag me to some enclosed space?” She appeared amused and playful as she spoke so. “Or maybe … there was some other issue you wanted to discuss before you got … distracted?”

She liked to fuck, but she also needed to eat, and so business usually came first.

Thomas choked back a chuckle at the perverse thoughts her remarks conjured in his mind, the fear of soliciting an angry response from her now completely absent in his mannerisms. He could only imagine the look on the face of his prude old wife, taking in the sight of Thomas humping away at the prone form of Ysrel outside on the road. "Well my lady, I must say that I appreciate your sense of humor in this matter, it was somewhat unexpected but certainly not unwelcome. And I'm afraid no matter how much I might desire to do either of the things you have suggested...or both, should you be inclined...". His smile widened a bit as he further imagined the doing of just such acts for a moment before he resumed speaking again. "...you are correct in your assessment of there being another topic that I originally sought you out to discuss. I have a problem which I believe you may be able to provide a solution to, if I am correct in my assumption of the true purpose behind your visit.". His eyes shifted to the hilt of the large sword she wore across her back.

"And in light of that, I may have a favorable comprise that would see us both satisfied. Rather than keep you standing out here amongst all this commotion, perhaps you would care to allow me to show you to the room here that we keep reserved for such buisness, provided free of charge during your stay, and where we can more comfortably discuss the matter of a contract the village has open that has not yet been fulfilled?". His eyes moved from her sword back to her face, a twinkle of mischief in them. "After which perhaps we could resume the discussion of my 'drive', and the possibility of you allowing me to demonstrate it to you firsthand. Should you be willing to grant an old man such a rare opportunity, that is.". He winked at her, in jest rather than in crude suggestion, and held his arm out invitingly towards the front door of the tavern. "Shall we retire to your room then, my lady?"

“We shall”

A barely noticeable nod confirmed her agreement to the village elder’s latest proposal. It had not been a wild guess that the village would have an open contract considering its state of disrepair, and so it came as no surprise when her assumption was confirmed. Neither was it unexpected that she was directly approached regarding such matters despite her gender. It seemed her large weapon served as a very efficient advertising sign.

And so she followed Thomas as he led her under the curious glances of the other villagers towards the large building at the center. She had not yet decided how forthcoming indeed she would be towards his secondary interests – or were they his primary ones she wondered with a bemused grin? The idea had a certain kinky appeal, but maybe even if she went along with the suggestion it would best be delayed until after the contract. Depending on its nature she might be far more relaxed in such matters after the business was conducted.

Finally they reached the heavy dark wooden door, and Thomas pushed it open allowing her entrance. At first the interior seemed dim, almost dark compared to the bright morning sunlight outside, but her eyes quickly adjusted to notice the tables of roughly hewn wood and the accompanying chairs in the scarcely decorated room. It resembled a gathering hall more than a classical inn, and although a counter dominated one of the walls neither an inn keeper nor a waitress was to be seen at this early hour. The elder did not pause and instead led the way up the stairs and to the room at the end of the hallway. It lacked any elaborate decorum, but it was well illuminated by the large window overlooking the window. The furniture was of simple design but good quality, and the room was quite clean and larger than was usual vor taverns. One half was occupied by a rather large bed. The opposite wall was covered almost completely by a large cupboard, and in the open space stood a rectangular table and four chairs.

“Nice indeed” commented Ysrel as she slid the belt holding the sheath of her sword off her shoulder and leaned the large implement against the wall next to the entrance before pulling one of the chairs away from the table and gracefully lowering her behind on the seat. One leg slung over the other, one arm resting on the table next to her she faced Thomas and finally inquired “So tell me, what is this contract about? I would wager a guess it has to do with the devastation I got to see outside.”

Thomas the Elder stood just inside the door, holding it open politely to allow for Ysrel's entrance. She could feel his by-now familiar lustful gaze sliding along the contours of her form as she moved to unburden herself of her weapon and place it against the wall. He dared not linger for too long in his silent admiration of her curves, and he moved over to the opposite side of the table as she settled into her chosen seat. He filled two mugs with plain water from the clay pitcher stationed on the table, sliding one infront of her before taking his own seat. The water was a bit tepid, but clean and refreshing nonetheless, and Thomas took a moment to wet his throat before speaking.

Setting his mug down on the table and wiping his mouth dry with the back of a hand, Thomas cleared his throat as he settled back into his chair. "You are correct Mi'lady...and since we are both familiar with the realities of life in the wilderness, I'll not bore you with the all too common tales of the Crown's negligence regarding our safety. For the past month or so, since the onset of Spring, we have been assaulted by a group of raiders. Humans, the lot of them...but they burn and pillage like orcs, with little regard for life. We've been raided before, but in most cases they are placated with goods and valuables, and once they've taken their fill, they are content to leave us be and they move on to the next village."

Thomas removed the handkerchief from his pocket, rubbing it across his forehead briefly before moving on. It was pleasantly cool in the room, and it was clear that the tempature was not the cause of his perspiration.

"Not this band...they've made a camp a few miles into the forest, in the foothills. They return every fifth night, asking not for goods or produce, of which they have already taken in excess, but for...tribute.". Thomas's lips curled in a sneer, as if the word left a foul taste in his mouth on it's way out. "They want women...only a few at a time, as if they delight in the fact that we are powerless to stop them. Young, old, wife or daughter...they have shown no preference, only that they be female. A few have come back to us...bloodied and brutalized...defiled.". Thomas paused again, wiping away a fresh layer of sweat.

"From what I have gathered, together with the reports from those victims that have found the courage to give voice to the matter, they are five in strength, including the leader. Dresk, the others call him. A mountain of a man, likely twice my height at least. It is said that he is the most depraved of them all, and it is his unholy appetites that the women are taken to satiate. The others are evil, no doubt, but are as candles against the light of the sun in comparison.". His voice dropped a few decibels, his brow furrowing. "The women return with little more than bruises on the outside, but I've heard the midwife say that their...ahem...'lady' parts...look as if they had been ravaged by a band of savage Orcs.". Thomas cleared his throat uncomfortably, lifting his mug of water for another drink.

"The women who have returned to us have yet to voice the reason behind such...defilement, and quite honestly Mi'lady, I'm not sure that I want to hear the description of such acts.". Thomas settled back in his chair, visibly relieved to be moving on from that portion of the discussion. "I imagine you have worked out the target of the aforementioned contract by now...we want them dead, the whole lot. There is a fair amount of coin for you should you only be able to drive them off...and although I would fear for the next village they chose to terrorize, we must look after our own...but double the amount for the head of that bastard Dresk. As already noted, your room and accommodations are taken care of for as long as you care to stay.". Thomas leaned forward to retrieve the pitcher of water to refill his glass, and her's if needed. "Two-hundred and fifty crowns for driving them off, five-hundred for Dresk's head on a pike. These are our terms Mi'lady, and although we have little else in the way of gold, perhaps some additional compensation can be arranged should you find those numbers lacking."

"That is of course, if you are planning to accept. I am perhaps a bit presumptuous, but I am afraid we have few other options at the moment, and have hung our hopes on the timely arrival of a Hunter.". Thomas took another sip of water, folding his hands across his lap as if to subdue himself. "Now Mi'lady, do you have any questions or concerns that you would like to discuss? I'm afraid I've rambled on a bit, but I will see my lips closed for a few moments for you to speak.". And, as if on cue, with his sales pitch behind him, she could feel his eyes once again subtlety admiring her form.

“Quite a detailed description of a thorough predicament”

Ysrel had been quiet during all of Thomas’ exposition, looking at him intently but not intimidating. She hardly moved or even twitched as she silently registered the facts as they were unraveled one after the other and through all of it gave the impression of a professional on her way to work. That way she hoped to perturb the elder the least, as indeed he seemed personally troubled by those bandits that were haunting the village.

As it was evident that her time to reply had come, she leaned back and for a moment looked absent mindedly at her own hand on the table surface while she pondered what she had heard. . The offered priced seemed adequate, and she was inclined to accept the contract, even more so as her own purse was beginning to run low. That was not the only reason, though. People became hunters for many reasons, and while hers could easily form a very complex web, one of her initial motivations definitely was the opportunity to pay back, to right wrongs. Or rather to punish those who had it coming. Some of that still lingered inside her after many long and disillusioning years.

As she finally spoke her tone was measured, composed and analyzing as she tried to get the few gaps filled that had been left. “Before I make my decision, there are only a few details I would like to learn more about. Most affect the way these brigands operate. How exactly do they go about collecting their tribute? Do they openly stalk into town – maybe even at the height of day - and demand that women are brought to them, or do the break into houses during the nighttime and grab what they can get a hold of?”

She paused a moment before coming to the next point “Your explanation seems to indicate that their visits are very regular, almost as if following a schedule. Every fifth day. If that is so, when would their next visit be due?”

“And lastly” she finally closed her questioning “do you know where exactly their camp is at? Good enough that your description would allow me to locate it?””

Thomas straightened as she outlined her questions, his eyes moving to hers respectfully, listening as intently as she had while he had been talking. Although he was undeniably attracted to her, he was not so rude or lecherous as to disrespect the one person who could help them through their predicament. He waited until it was clear she had finished before he offered answers to her inquiries.

"In regards to their methods and timing, they come every fifth night once the moon has risen to it's fullest, armed with swords and torches. If there is some significance to both the time of night and the number of days between their 'raids', it is beyond my knowing. They have shown no concern regarding stealth, and seem to light a few of the houses on fire immediately after arriving in order to create a panic. It is then that they, seemingly at random, abduct two or more women, stealing them into the night and vanishing as quickly as they arrived. In the beginning they snatched women from the street, but as we have taken to hiding them on the nights we've come to expect them, they are forced to break into houses and vandalize them in their search. They have maimed and killed a few of the village men in the course of taking their wives and daughters, but killing does not appear to be their primary goal. It almost seems that they would be content to have us step aside and allow them to take their abductees peacefully...but of course, we could never do such a thing. We are not warriors, but we are also not cowards.". He trailed off for a moment, as if his hackles were rising at the thought of simply allowing the women to be taken. Thomas collected himself once again, pausing for a drink before moving on.

"As for a location of the camp, I can only offer a general direction. Southeast, towards the mountains. If I had to venture a guess as to where, odds are they have found a nice niche in and among the foothills. A few leagues southeast of Hilderstap there is a river, fresh runoff from the mountain. In spring it swells with the melting of the snow and runs quite fast and deep, dangerous enough that I would guess that they are probably not risking the crossing of it to travel back and forth to raid. It would also serve as a source of fresh water, so it seems likely you might find the encampment somewhere close. I am by no means an expert tracker, but I thought my knowledge of the surrounding area might be of some help."

"They attacked us just last night, so that would give us five days and four nights before they attack again. And should you need the assistance of our milita, you can coordinate with me and I will make them available to assist you as needed. Our resources, meager as they may be, are at your disposal.". Thomas extended a hand across the table in offering, open as if to shake hers in order to seal the contract, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Well Mi'lady, do we have a contract, then?"

Ysrel pondered just a few seconds longer, and a plan was already beginning to form in her mind. Almost as an afterthought she reached out, took the offered hand and shook it. “Yes, we have a contract.”


That was six hours ago, and by now she had left the village several miles behind her. Her attire had changed significantly since then. The large sword and the leather armor were replaced by a plain peasant dress that happened to hug her shapely body just right. She always carried one set of non martial clothing with her. The one large braid had been changed to two smaller ones, one hanging from each side of her head and giving her an even sweeter and more girlish appearance. The basket held in her right hand she had to borrow from the village, and for any unsuspecting spectator there was no doubt he was watching a farmer’s daughter out in the woods collecting berries. Which was exactly the impression she intended to give. Every hunter had an individual style, and hers in many cases was more unique than most.

Of course there would have been other options. Like rallying the militia. Or letting herself be caught on the raiders next raid. All of those, however, faced two problems. For one there was the risk of civilian casualties, and then there was always the chance one of the raiders would get away and disappear with all the riches they had stolen from the village. She presumed their camp was hidden well since even an experienced soldier respected a farmer’s ability to cut his throat while he was asleep, and so the best option to find it was to let one of the brigands lead her to it.

She could have delayed her departure had she so wanted, and the sad and lustful gaze in the elder’s eyes almost made her do so and bring him a bit of peace of mind first, but in the end her rationale won out. Right now she was truly ready for the bandit leader, and that would have overshadowed and diminished the act with Thomas. Plus she did not know how long her plan would take to bear fruit. Five days can pass awfully quickly when someone does not want them to. So she had departed immediately once her preparations were done, and following the instructions her path had taken her right into the foothills, close to the mentioned stream.

While she appeared to absent mindedly hum a merry little tune her senses were on full alert since the moment she had left the confines of Hinderstap, no easy task to maintain that vigil for hours on end, but right now, behind her to the right, that sound of a cracking twig just did not match into the acoustic curtain that had surrounded her until then. It took her some effort to not instinctively turn her head and look into that direction, instead continuing to walk as if nothing had happened.

Ric mumbled and cursed under his breath as he tossed a freshly-filled waterskin onto the pile he was squatting beside, retrieving an empty one from the seperate pile next to it. "...lazy pricks...sons-of-whores...". He pulled the stopper from the empty waterskin, leaning forward to plunge it into the river infront of him, continuing his grumbling as he waited for it to fill to capacity. "Gods-damned cocksuckers, the lot of them. Can't even be bothered to fucking fill a waterskin...doesn't matter that it was my turn with the whore...I should fucking be knee deep in peasant cunt by now...". The waterskin now full, Ric pulled it from the river, sealing it once again with the plug and tossing it atop the 'full' pile, snatching up the next one in the 'empty' queue. His lips curled in a sneer as he mockingly mimicked the voice of one of the other raiders. "'Hey Runt, water's out.'...bastards.". 'Ric the Runt', that was his nickname. Just 'Runt' for short, bestowed by his fellows not because of his size, but due to his age. At twenty seasons he was the youngest of the group, and as such, had always been given the tasks that involved manual labor, particularly if it was a chore such as fetching water.

Ric scoffed, filling the new waterskin in the same manner as he had the others.. "Runt...that ain't what the whores call me after my turn...". He turned his head to hawk and spit, reaching down with his free hand to crudely grasp the crotch of his leather breeches as if to offer proof of his manhood to a non-existant observer. His mumbling continued as he added another full 'skin to the pile. "Your slut of a mother didn't call me 'Runt'...". His task complete, Ric stood, dusting his hands against his breeches as he straightened. "Well fuck that, it's my turn now, and I'm gonna get my share of that old bitch's ass.". He leaned down to retrieve the full waterskins, slinging them over his shoulder one-by-one until they were all loaded up. He started back towards camp, his sour mood slowly improving as, his menial task completed, his thoughts turned to what pleasures awaited him there.

Ric stopped after he had made his way into the forest a bit to answer a 'call of nature', turning towards a tree as he reached down to unlace his breeches and pull his manhood free. His head snapped up attentively as, in the silence brought on by his momentary stillness, he heard the sound of footsteps drawing near. Now frozen, ears straining to pick up the sound of movement, his exposed prick still grasped in his hand in preparation of relieving his bladder, Ric could her a faint hum accompanying the footsteps. He quietly stuffed himself back into his breeches before slowly setting down his load of waterskins next to the tree he been about to mark. He caught a glimpse of someone walking away from him, towards the river he had just left behind. Dark hair pulled up into twin ponytails...fair skin...a tight dress...a tight dress? Ric unconciously licked his lips, the need to relieve himself suddenly forgotten. Some dumb village broad had wandered out here to...his eyes traveled down her form far enough to take in the basket on her arm...pick berries? Hah! He had yet to see her front, but if the tightness of her backside was any indication, she was a damn sight better than the used-up old hag waiting for him back at camp. Ric had been given his fair turn at each of the women they'd taken, but only after the others had finished with them. Conditions in their camp were anything but modest, and having seen Dresk strut about unclothed more than he'd care to recall, there was little wonder as to why by the time they made it 'round to his bedroll he'd been forced to take their backside in order to get any pleasure out of the rut. He was in the mood for something a bit more...snug. And gods-be-damned if the source of just such a tight hole wasn't right in front of eyes!

Ric waited in silence a moment until her path intersected his. As she moved close enough to the point where he was confident he could run her down if need be Ric stepped forward. His boot snapped a fallen twig as he moved, a sure sign of his approach, but the girl kept walking forward, humming under her breath. Ric lengthened his stride in order to overtake her pace, sliding his sword from its scabbard slowly as he neared. He spoke, and having approached to within sword range, he tapped the flat of his blade against her pert bottom to announce his presence. "Well, well...what do we have here?"

He quickly stepped around infront of her and squared his shoulders to block her path, sword raised half-heartedly as if he had little to fear from a peasant girl such as her. Ric was of average height for a male, a bit on the scrawny side in terms of build. His short, dark hair was unkempt and dirty, and if not for the sadistic smile spread across his face, he might be described as moderately handsome. As is he looked every bit the part of a heartless leach on the lives of the common folk of Hinderstap, feeding off of their misery and despair. His sword was a non-descript mid-length blade of obvious military issue, the sort that is mass produced and able to be wielded by men of all sizes with relative ease. He was clad in a boiled leather tunic, arms bare, with simple brown leather breeches and a matching pair of boots completing his outfit.

Ric opened his mouth as if to speak just as his eyes finally came to rest on her face. Whatever foul statement he had been set to taunt her with was ripped from his throat, his eyes widening in surprise. He'd seen, and laid with, a fair share of women in his short life, but he'd never seen a woman near this beautiful. Not to mention her over-abundant bust, barely constrained in the confines of her tight fitting bodice, spilling over as if threatening to burst free at any moment. He'd seen plenty of large breasted women in his time, but usually with a body sized to match. This girl's waist was so slender, her frame deliciously petite, it was a wonder how she managed to support such massive orbs without toppling over.

Ric shook his head as if to clear and refocus his thoughts, his dark smile returning as he once more raised his gaze to her face. "Poor young girl, wandering in the woods all alone...hadn't you heard that there's raiders about?". Ric's thoughts turned to his fellows back at camp. Dresk would want first dibs on this one, no doubt. Ric had agreed to such terms at the formation of their band, and if he failed to follow through Dresk would very likely seperate his head from his shoulders. As sweet as the promise of sliding inside this one's tight holes was, the desire to keep his head was even greater. Ric inwardly cursed the stupid pact he had made, after the others were done with this one she'd be just as worn-out as the others.

A rabid thought pushed itself to the front of his brain, desperate to be acknowledged. The pact was only for her cunt and backside, it did nothing to forbid him from having a go at the rest of her body before taking her back to camp. Gods-be-damned if he'd pass up a chance at sampling those mouth-watering tits before those other assholes got their hands on them.

"Raiders about...and you were just lucky enough to wander across the path of one. Don't be frightened though, girl...I'm the reasonable sort. You're lucky it was me that found ya', the others would have that pretty little dress up over your head by now. But like I said, I'm reasonable...you see, one way or the other you're going to be coming back to my camp with me to meet the fellas. It'd be a real shame if I had to rough you up in the process...". He flourished his sword, his grin widening. "But it don't have to go that way if you play nice. I think you and me might even be able to make a deal. You see, I'd imagine you would rather not get a crack upside the head, and I would love to get a taste of those teats you've got stuffed in your dress. A compromise, then? You unbutton that dress and pull 'em out for me, let me have a bit of a slap and suckle, and I don't knock you out, tie you up and drag you back with me. You let me get a nice taste, then we head back to my camp so you can meet the other boys all nice like. I think you'll be particulary keen on Dresk...but all that can wait. So, which'll it be then?"

Practice makes perfect, and Ysrel had gone through what was to happen next more than once before. Add to that the fact that she had gotten ample advance warning of her aggressor. At first she had been naturally cautious, since those strange sounds could come from anything up to and including any sort of predator who's appetite for her was purely limited to its stomach, and it took a conscious act to resist the urge of turning her head and having a better look. However once she got to notice more of the approaching bandit with her keen ears and out of the corner of her eyes she relaxed inwardly and prepared herself for the show to come.

And so at the sight of the sword idly held into her direction her eyes went wide as the basket clattered to the forest floor, a terrified shriek escaping her mouth. Her empty hands at her side seemed to grasp convulsively at the empty air in a futile attempt to grasp something, anything, to help her in this dire situation and she took first one and then another step backwards away from the brigand, her frightened gaze still glued to the tip of the weapon. It was not until he began his speech that a modicum of composure returned to her, her mouth stopping its quivering as she tried to attentively follow his words.

Ysrel took that opportunity to have a closer look at her opposite. He was younger than she had expected, and might have passed for a harmless village youth if his debased desires were not currently so apparent in his features. So young of age and already so corrupted, thinking all he wanted was his for the grabbing. Like now. And the easiest way to get into the camp was to give him just that.

"O... Okay ..." Ysrel finally stammered, seemingly subdued by the threat of violence. "Just please ... don't hurt me..." And with that her shaking hands rose and did as they were bidden. At first they clumsily unlaced the front section of her dress, made harder by the fact that her eyes still seemed unable to veer from the threatening sword, but finally it was done and while only loosened and still concealing her chest the dress hung now far less stringent around her upper body. Then her fingers made their way up to the opposite shoulders, her arms crossing in front of her as she began to pull downward, the dress following her lead and revealing her smooth unmarred skin bit by bit, an increasingly large cleavage coming into view. Over her nipples the seam of the fabric seemed to linger particularly long, but finally it fell, her whole upper body bare as her arms returned to dangling loosely at her side. And there they hung, tall, weighty and proud, a magnificently massive pair of supple flesh seemingly unperturbed by their owner's distress, crowned by thick long nipples already stiffening under the cool forest air and raising as if to greet their newest admirer.

Ric spun his blade through the air again, a glint in his dark eyes betraying the pleasure that he was receiving from her show of fear. He was completely taken by her ruse; her initial scream of fright, the way her eyes stayed fixated on his sword, the flustered movements of her hands. She looked every bit the part of an innocent, frightened little farm girl, and Ric's lecherous grin almost split his face as she agreed to his terms so quickly. His tongue darted between his lips, wetting them as he eagerly awaited the removal of her dress. "That's good...I ain't gonna hurt ya' girl..." His tone was mockingly reassuring, consoling, similar to how one might speak to a frightened animal or child. His voice shifted as his eyes moved from her face down to her chest anticipatorily, lowering a pitch as he voiced his impatience, his eyes blazing with lust. "...now give ol' Ric a look at them tits."

He watched as she reached up to untie her bodice, his eyes following her trembling fingers, his free hand reaching down to rub the growing bulge at the front of his breeches absentmindedly as he watched the show. Ric nodded approvingly as she reached up and across her chest and grasped the shoulders of her dress, peeling it down slowly. A groan began deep in his throat, slowly gaining volume and intensity as more of her flesh was revealed. His eyes widened as they followed the line of her cleavage down her chest, amazed at the sheer volume of tit-flesh that she had been concealing beneath her dress. Finally the dress clung to what must be the tips of those magnificent orbs, preserving the last scrap of her modesty for one more achingly long second. The smug look of triumph on Ric's face had been replaced with one of utter fascination, his attention locked onto her chest, eyes frozen open as if he dared not miss the final moment of her strip. His mouth was slightly agape, the groan in his throat still building, the hand wrapped around the handle of his weapon tightening into a white knuckled grip, his other hand still kneading the bulge in his breeches roughly...

And then her dress finally fell away, the bodice falling around her hips, leaving her upper torso completely bare. The massive twin orbs jiggled with the movement of finally being freed, her nipples responding immediately to the nip in the air, hardening under the admiring gaze of the young raider. He had not imagined them to be quite so large in his original assessment, and was momentarily taken aback. The groan that had started in his throat at the beginning of her disrobing resolved itself into a single word, the only proclomation his lust-wracked brain could conjure to express his approval. "...Fuck...". He swallowed deeply, momentarily ceasing his self pleasure to wipe the back of his free hand across his mouth, his eyes remaining locked onto her still hardening nipples. Ric then took a step forward, his sword clattering to the ground, forgotten in his quest to free up both hands for what was to follow.

Ric was beginning to regain some of his composure, and not wanting to allow her initial fear to completely pass, he attempted to resume his former demeanor of cockiness, hoping she hadn't taken notice of how spellbound he had been only moments before. His hands shot up and wrapped around the underside of her breasts, open palms audibly slapping up against the sensitive flesh as they met. He lifted first one and then the other as if testing their weight, that sadistic grin from before once again slowly spreading across his face. He spread his fingers as wide as he was able, as if to cover as much of her flesh as possible, and his hands began roughly kneading the firm flesh of her spectacular spheres. His hands were of above-average size for a man of his stature, but even so were unable to envelop more than a third of her massive breasts. He bowed his head down towards her right tit, lifting it up and towards his mouth, his hands all the while continuing their rough treatment as his mouth stretched open. His eyes moved up to lock onto hers, that lusty glint in his eye burning as he watched her face for a reaction. His lips latched around her thick right nipple, forcefully sucking it into his mouth with a deep groan that she could feel as it vibrated through her sensitive flesh. His tounge traced a path around her aureola, his teeth scraping against her nipple as he increased the force of his suction. His left hand increased the intensity of it's grope, sliding up her breast until he could grasp her left nipple between thumb and forefinger, tweking it between his fingers in rhythm with the sucking motion his mouth was applying to it's twin.

Ric sucked on her tit with as much force as he could muster as he slowly pulled his head back, stretching her nipple out between them, lifting her heavy orb up and away from her chest before it was finally released from between his lips with a loud, wet 'pop', slapping back down against his hand as he caught it in his open palm. He licked his lips before leaning down towards her left breast, intent on giving it's gloriously hard nipple the same treatment. Should she have cared to look down between them at that moment, she would have noticed the front of his breeches now strained with the effort of containing his manhood, the bulge across his cotch and upper right thigh now unmistakingly apparent. He paused before his mouth reached her left nipple, but his hands continued to roughly massage her flesh between his fingers as he spoke. "You taste good...like a sweet little virgin farm girl.". Still blissfully ignorant of her ruse, Ric lowered his mouth to her left nipple without waiting for her response, sucking it between his lips and nibbling it lightly. Her right nipple, now shining with a light coat of saliva and once again exposed to the cool forest air, was left momentarily unattended as his hand moved down to cup her breast from underneath, bouncing it against his palm, not hard enough to cause her a great deal of pain, but forcefully enough to make the sound of their flesh colliding together audible as the underside of her heavy orb slapped down against his open hand. He grinned around his mouthful of her magnificent titflesh, looking up to once more lock eyes with her, wanting to watch her reaction as he increased the force of his suction.

As Ric looked up at Ysrel most of what he saw was what he likely expected. Her eyes seemed spellbound to what his hands and mouth were doing with her abundant mammaries, drawn to those with a strange fascination akin to how a rabbit is mesmerized by the gaze of the approaching snake. And as she witnessed her own abuse firsthand the occasional whimper could not be suppressed. A brief “No …” or “Please stop …” occasionally interspersing the sounds of the forest surrounding them, and she even managed to produce a small amount of moisture in the corners of her eyes. When he became more forceful, whenever his fingers dug deeply into the supple flesh of one of her mounds, whenever his teeth grazed her nipple, or when the flat of his hand connected firmly with the roundness of her globes sending them bouncing and jiggling her frightened mask was for the briefest of moments contorted into a flinch or even wince.

But for all of this the girl he was abusing did not seem completely appalled by what was happening. In truth Ysrel was enjoying this treatment greatly. Why she could not tell, but while other women would clamor their fate she had very early on discovered that her own desires and likings in sexual matters seemed to be of a much darker nature, and what brought discomfort to others was sheer pleasure to her. Maybe …

For a second her thoughts flashed back to the moment she had lost her virginity. How she could feel the rough surface of the heavy wooden table press into her cheek, her frail body bent over and pinned down by a strong hand gripping her neck as the bandit captain behind her lined up his engorged rod with her virginal vagina and rammed forward in one strong deep thrust with no concern for her comfort. And yet elicited a surprising surge of pleasure drowning the pain he had caused. That, and what was to follow, had shaped her libido forever.

And right now it set her breasts on fire, making her want to scream and moan. It was not all bad, though, as Ysrel had long since learned that one of the easiest ways to inflate the male ego was to give them the impression that they brought pleasure against insurmountable odds. To make them think their victim despite their refusal to accept it deep down could not help but enjoy what was happening to them. That heady feeling of superiority never failed to numb their critical thinking, making them all the easier prey. To her such was even simpler. She did not have to pretend her enjoyment, all she had to to was to restrain her expression of it to believable levels, to portray a plausible conflict between revulsion and lust. And that was what she did, letting the occasional moan or sigh slip from her lips and accompany yet another flinching of her delicate features, slowly increasing in frequency and combined with immediate embarrassed glances.

Ysrel's rather astute observation regarding the manipulation of a male's ego had hit the mark, at least in the case of the young raider attached by mouth to her left breast. He remained completely oblivious to both her motive and her true identity, instead thinking of their encounter as a personal triumph. By random chance he'd stumbled across the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and reduced her to a mewling whore with his show of dominance and skilled hands. And to top it all off, he was hungrily sucking a pleasantly thick nipple that crowned the most magnificent pair of tits he'd ever seen. He felt like a conqueror, her bountiful flesh the spoils. But it didn't end there. After he was satisfied with this little sampling of her wares, he'd take her back to their camp and eventually be given a proper turn with her. Having observed her reaction to just a bit of 'foreplay', he could scarcely wait to see the look on her face when he claimed her backside; her face pressed into the rough wool of his bedroll, her hips up in the air, the groan that would rip from her throat as he forcefully thrust his prick deeper...as far as he was concerned, it was only a matter of time.

Little did he know that he had played right into her hand, and that such an opportunity would likely never come to pass...

Ric refocused his attention on the task at hand, his head pulling back from her left breast, the movement causing her nipple to drag across his teeth one final time before popping free from his greedy mouth. His hands continued their rough treatment of her mountainous orbs, alternating between the light palm slaps that sent them bouncing and the heavy groping that included the occasional tweak and pinch of her thick nipples. His eyes were now fixated on her chest, watching his hands perform their appointed tasks as if he were mesmerized by her perpetually jiggling mounds of flesh. The sadistic grin that had marked his features since the beginning of their encounter still dominated the lower half of his face, broken only by the occasional wetting of his lips with his tongue as if he were still savoring the taste of her flesh.

As the minutes passed he would occasionally lift one heavy breast to his mouth to suck and nibble at it's nipple, pausing to let his hands grope and slap her sensitive flesh before shifting his mouth to the opposite breast. Her nipples were kept in a constant state of arousal throughout his assault on them, his mouth never lingering from any one in particular long enough for even the light coat of saliva he left behind to dry in the cool air. For the big finale, Ric pressed his face into the deep crevice of her cleavage, squashing her tits up against his cheeks as if he intended to seal his face between them. She could feel his warm tounge as he licked the sides of her breasts, the scraping of his teeth against the sensitive flesh as he nibbled, the light stubble of his facial hair as her heavy orbs ground against his checks. He finally pulled his head back, the burning hunger in his belly sated for the moment, his eyes drinking in one last close-up view of her mammoth mammories, covered as they were in the visual signs of the last few minutes of groping, sucking and licking he had just finished administering.

And with that the encounter ended as suddenly as it had begun, his hands withdrawing from her breasts, one immediately seeking out the bulge in his crotch as if to provide some relief. As much as Ric would enjoy forcefully submitting her body to hours of such treatment, the others back at camp would become suspicious if he were to be gone much longer. Besides, the faster he turned her over to Dresk, the faster it would come around to his turn to rut with her. His eyes never left her form as his hand released its hold of his crotch, reaching around behind his back to retrieve the short length of rope he kept on his belt. He bent to retrieve his blade from the forest floor with his free hand, sliding it into it's scabbard at his left hip as he straightened. Now all that remained was for him to collect the waterskins he had discarded earlier and they could be off.

"Great pair of tits, girl...I ain't afraid to admit that you've probably ruined other women for me, not sure I'll see another pair like that.". His annoyingly constant grin turned into a smirk as he cast his gaze once down to her chest, admiring the slowly fading redness along the undersides that yet remained as a testament to his rough treatment. "Now, it's about time that we introduce you to the other boys back at camp. Since you kept your side of the deal, I'll let you pull up that dress. You'll be walking in front, so ain't nothin' for me to see, although it's a shame to ever cover a pair like those up. Don't worry though, we'll have an opportunity for some real fun later, I'll introduce you to 'big' Ric...". He winked at her suggestively. If the bulge still present in the front of his breeches was any indication, 'average Ric' was probably a more fitting moniker. "...and we'll see if the rest of that tight little body tastes as sweet as those teats."

"Now, do I have to tie you up, or are you going to continue to play nice?"

Ysrel had already slid the wrist of her left arm back into the short sleeve of her dress and moved her right hand to clench it and pull it up to her shoulder following his allowance as his last question came. Her breasts were still tingling from his ministrations, and indeed she had had to restrain herself from grinning down at Ric as he so enthusiastically busied himself between her two mounds of supple flesh. He definitely had not displayed any inhibitions or restraint, and all the crude groping and slapping had created a constant arousal, pleasant despite the little pain. As it was her playful and exhibitionistic streak was looking for a plausible way to prolong going topless for a bit more. The cool forest air did feel nice on her skin, likely better than the fabric of her dress on those segments of her skin that still displayed a slight pink if receding hue. Confusion might serve as the best excuse.

So giving the impression that his question had just snapped her out of a mild trance back to the harsh reality of being captured by a brigand with unsavory intentions her eyes widened once more for dramatic effect, her arms dropping loosely, forlornly, to her sides discarding the dress again, and only her globes seemed completely unperturbed as she fought to regain her speech. Standing there forlornly, just looking back at Ric in mute fright for a few seconds she finally began to emphatically shake her head and stammer. “No … please not … Don’t tie me up. I will … behave.”

Ric's eyes remained glued to her chest as her flustered movements caused her breasts to sway and jiggle. No matter that he was by now 'intimately' familiar with that portion of her body, they were just as captivating as they had been when she first revealed them. He re-considered his original position regarding her state of dress; having her walk about top-free would not only grant him an occasional eyeful of her orbs as they swung about, but it apparently flustered her to no end, and as a result might help to keep her fear and submission fresh and at the front of her mind.

He reached out to finish pulling the upper portion of her dress down around her hips. "On second thought, I rather like watching your tits as they dance about, so let's keep this down then, shall we?" His tone of voice made clear that the question was rhetorical, and his hand brushed against the still rosy undersides of her hanging breasts as he withdrew his hand.

Ric pulled away from her, and keeping an eye out for any sign of an attempted escape on her part, he moved back over to the pile of waterskins he had discarded. He momentarily entertained the thought of her carrying them; despite her slender frame, carrying those massive orbs about all day surely had to put some strength into her back muscles. He quickly discarded that idea, deciding that he would rather her provide a bit of entertainment for their trip rather than save him the effort of carrying them himself. He stuffed the length of rope he had earlier retrieved back behind his belt before squatting down beside the pile, eyes all the while locked on Ysrel. He loaded the 'skins onto his left shoulder in order to keep his sword arm free, and once finished he walked back over towards her, moving around behind her and stopping just off her right side. The angle would give him a nice view of her right tit as they walked.

"Right then, camp's up ahead that way...". He motioned towards the trees in the general direction he had been walking before reaching down to give her a light slap on the ass as if to signal her to start moving. "And keep those arms down while we walk, I don't want you blocking my view."

Ysrel flinched only slightly as the bandit's hand slapped or rather patted her behind in an attempt to get her moving in the indicated direction. So his lust had won out in the end, and he still could not get enough of her well endowed chest? All the better. She took a mental note to continue presenting herself as uncomfortable with this state of dress as she had appeared upon his first announcement that she would have to traverse the forest topless. Or at least not give an impression that she liked such an act of exhibitionism even once her averse display dwindled into resignation. As a result her head turned only slightly towards him, and she looked at Ric with a hard to define expression somewhere between fear and revulsion and loathing before her feet set themselves in motion.

The marched in silence for most of the time. Only some rare occasions the brigand seemed to feel the urge to renew his acquaintance with those two treasures he discovered and reached out to once again feel the supple flesh heavily in his palm, making it bounce and jiggle with some good natured – in his opinion – slaps, but for the most part beholding how they swayed in rhythm with their owners steps seemed enough to satiate him.

Thusly they got deeper and deeper into the woods. All around her nature seemed to be ignorant, if not unperturbed by the two trespassers in this untamed wilderness. Soon they reached the bed of a small river and from then on followed its course beneath the dense canopy of the trees. As time passed the hills to both sides got closer and closer until finally they entered a small cleft that the river must have carved into the stone over the past eons. On both sides the stony walls reached up almost vertically, reducing the sky to a small blue stripe way above and finally Ric was bereft of his grand view as the narrow path running alongside the rivulet did not permit two persons marching side by side. Ysrel felt that they were getting close to the encampment. Was it inside a large cave in the wall of the cave, or did some secret path lead off to the side to a hidden clearing?

The path alongside the creek that flowed through the cleft in the tall cliff wall curved to the right as Ric and Ysrel followed it, the angle preventing her from seeing beyond what lie more than a few meters ahead. She could almost feel the young raider's gaze as it followed the gentle sway of her backside; apparently his way of making up for the loss of his vantage point on her breasts was to survey her next best physical asset. As they continued yet deeper into the cleft, a hard left turn in the path up ahead signaled the end of their journey and the entrance into the raider's camp. As they drew closer to the bend the smell of burning wood and animal flesh clogged the air and attested to the proximity of the encampment. Rounding the corner brought the two directly into the mouth of a small, roughly bowl shaped depression approximately one-hundred meters in diameter, eroded from the stone by runoff from the mountains above in centuries past. The area above was partially covered by a natural ceiling, but enough was left open to the sky to enable a fair amount of sunlight to illuminate the clearing.

An ideal spot to hide a raider camp, it was almost as if it had been carved out for just such a purpose. The narrow entrance would permit only one body through at a time, and as such, could be rather easily defended in the event of a frontal assault, and the cliffs that rose above the small clearing were too high to scale down from. To the rear of the clearing and directly across from the entrance a large military style tent had been erected and a large firepit marked the center of camp. A large boar roasting over the fire provided the dominating smell of cooked pork. Besides the occasional wooden crate or barrel the camp was otherwise very spartan and non-descript.

Ric moved around beside her now that they were free of the confines of the previous passage and reached out to grasp her upper arm as if to signal for her to stop moving forward. He released his grip and raised his fingers to his lips to whistle loudly, the shrill sound echoing through the clearing and alerting the fellows of his arrival. A form rose from the other side of the fire and moved around it towards them in response, approaching lazily as if they expected Ric to be returning bearing only the waterskins. "Gods-damned Runt, get lost on the way to the fuckin' cric, then?" As the form drew closer it became apparent that it was a male, as besides the masculine tone of voice the large man wore not a single stitch of clothing. He was heavyset and covered in body hair, his head shaved bare with a thick beard covering the lower half of his face. His thick member hung limply beneath his prominent gut, and it's rather impressive girth despite it's flaccid state matched the overall rotund appearance of the man. He came to a stop a few paces from the new arrival, crossing his thick arms across his chest as he lewdly locked his eyes directly onto her massive exposed orbs. "Well fuck my arse, where'd you find a pair of tits like this, Runt?".

Ric scowled, not even bothering to address the man's question. "You too damn lazy to even bother dressing now, Bear?". Bear, a fitting nickname, but this man was obviously not Dresk, the prime target.


Bear's face cracked in a blackened grin, still staring down at Ysrel with his arms crossed. "Ain't no reason to be jealous Runt, maybe someday you'll grow a man sized prick, too...besides, it'd be a shame to deprive the young lady here the pleasure of an up close view of mine...ain't that right, miss?" He bucked his hips forward to send that thick piece of meat dangling freely between his legs swaying back and forth as if to accentuate the subject of his question.

Ysrel was not sure how to respond. Under other circumstances she might have had a witty or snide remark for the hairy man, presented with an impish grin and an inviting undertone to boot. There was something about that brutish, arrogant bearing of his combined with his big and ugly frame that resonated disturbingly well with her inner demons. Ric might be in the process of becoming an unbearable asshole, but that guy had mastered that a long time ago. Some part of her relished the idea of being bent over by him, held in place by his strong arms as his thick lance impaled her under a torrent of insults. It was a good thing she had that aspect of her personality under firm control, else her whole plan might have been ruined on the spot.

Or not. Just as likely by now little she did would override the men's agenda of first presenting her to their leader as Ric had hinted at only to have her for themselves afterwards. But still, there was no need to take any risk. And so picked the safest thing to say in that situation. Nothing.

Instead her gaze seemed to be transfixed on the shape in front of her, at first wandering all over it, the massive body hair, the protruding gut, the large beard. Only when his hips bucked did she focus on the groin region, watching the swinging genital. Her mouth was half parted, as if to start with something resembling a reply that never came, and it was her widened eyes that made it clear that it was not mere fascination that had her that frozen, but a fear of the implications of that presentation for her.

Bear's grin widened as he watched the busty farm girl's gaze assess his wide frame before it settled on the swinging member he had so crudely drawn her attention towards. He took particular satisfaction in the way that her eyes widened as they settled on his thick prick, her lips slightly parted as if the words she had been about to give voice were stuck in her throat. Her lack of response didn't draw his ire, quite the opposite, it emboldened him further. "Never quite seen anything like that, eh, miss? Wondering how it would feel, then? Well worry not...I'm never one to disappoint a lady. I'm next up after ol' Dresk, and whatever holes he hasn't seen fit to wear out, me and you we'll finish the job."

He shifted his gaze over to Ric, who was still standing behind her and eyeing Bear with a dark scowl. "Ain't that right, Runt?". The big man laughed, a booming chuckle that shook his considerable girth. "Well, better not to keep the little miss here waiting to meet her host...and Ric, you'd better see that she makes it round to my bedroll next..." Bear let the unspoken threat hang in the air as he turned to leave, making his way back towards the fire in his slow, confidant gait. Ric grumbled beneath his breath as the big man walked away, grabbing her arm once more and forcefully leading her back towards the tent on the far side of camp. His pace was quick, as if he hoped to reach their destination without further delay.

As they made their way across the camp and to the other side of the firepit the location of the other two members of the raider band became visible. Bear was now seated on a wooden bench by beside of the fire, leaning forward to carve off a serving of boar with a large knife, still chuckling beneath his breath as if savoring the thought of his turn with Ysrel. Off behind his right shoulder the other two brigands were busying themselves with the two captives they had taken from Hinderstap the night before. Only one bothered to look up from his rutting, and upon catching sight of Ysrel and her exposed chest he flashed her a sardonic grin that revealed a few of his front teeth to be missing. He pursed his lips mockingly as if mimicking how he might be suckling at her breasts later, resolving the crude gesture with a licking of his lips before dropping his gaze to refocus on the the task at hand.

Ric finally stopped as they reached he tent, releasing his grip on her arm and taking a few steps back. Ric's mood was still sour from the earlier encounter with Bear, and so he had little more to offer in the form of taunts or teases. "Right, Dresk's in there. Me and the boy's we'll be waiting for our turns out here.". He gestured to the front flap of the tent. "Go on girl, ain't no turning back now."

Seeing the two women being sexually abused brought back unpleasant memories.

Memories of how three rag clad miscreants forced her own mother to the floor in the center of their hut, right next to the blood stained corpses of her father and her brother. How they tore at her clothing under her screams and pleas, cackling manically in sadistic glee over her discomfort as Ysrel was dragged up the stairs by the leader.

She had come to terms with her past a long time ago, but those occasional flashbacks served as a reminder that her condition was unusual. That these women were truly suffering in a situation she would likely enjoy, and that she should do her best to save them from their predicament as soon as possible. And she almost would have knocked her own plan on the head and done exactly that right there.

Only assuring herself that a few more minutes would not matter, that the suffering of these women would not increase significantly from a couple more thrusts into their already defiled womanly parts , kept her from jumping into action right then and there. She had some very own, very specific needs to be fulfilled, and that would be made harder if she stirred up a ruckus that could not go unnoticed even inside the tent, no matter how swift and silent she was. So she stayed her hand, and focused her attention back on the tent entrance, blanking out the squeals coming from that corner for now. With apprehension she watched the tent flap for a few more seconds that loomed in front of her like the closed maw of some mystical beast ready to open wide and swallow her at any moment. Finally though, indicated by Ric's impatient fidgeting, she knew she could not wait any longer, and so as one hand reached out and pushed aside the leather in a feeble gesture of protection she clutched the other arm across her bare chest. Bowing slightly she dove forward through the opening with a single valiant step, immediately crossing both arms in front of her, pressing them against her tits as her hands rested on opposite shoulders. Once she had passed the threshold she straightening herself again while her eyes adjusted to the dusky interior, scanning it for signs of the perverted bandit leader.

The air inside of the tent was thick with the heady aroma of sweat and sex, illuminated only by what little light was able to filter in through the ventilation hole cut in the roof. The atmosphere was eerily silent after the scene that had been witnessed just meters outside the tent walls, bringing about a sense of foreboding with the sudden calmness. As her eyes adjusted she could make out the form of her target lounging atop a makeshift wooden throne that appeared to have been crudely pieced together from old crate panels. Even seated the man looked to be massive, his legs stretched out before him, broad shoulders pressed against the back of the stylized throne, thick arms resting atop the side panels that served as armrests. The darkness still concealed the finer details of his face save for his eyes; cold, ice blue orbs that seemed to glow in the dim light. He didn't particularly resemble a monarch, but judging from the arrogant manner in which he observed her from his seated position, he fancied himself something of one.

Dresk unfurled himself from the chair, slowly rising to such a height that the top of his head almost brushed against the tent ceiling. He took a few steps forward casually, like a predator approaching it's still distant prey, careful not to spook it into darting away. The movement brought him closer to the light source and details of his facial features became more easily discernible. His jaw squared and his brow strong, his face looked as if it could have been chiseled from stone. A long, jagged scar bisected his right eye from hairline to jawline in further contribution to his already menacing appearance. His oily, dark blonde hair hung about his thickly muscled shoulders with a single braid weaved into the right side at his temple. Every exposed inch of his massive frame bulged with obscenely corded muscle coated in a light sheen of sweat, his only covering a length of dark cloth wrapped around his waist that hung down to the top of his knees. Scars criss-crossed his chest and arms in silent testimony to a life of battle. A warrior never kept his weapon far from grasp, and amongst the tent's sparse decor was a scabbarded greatsword, sized to closely rival her own, leaned up against the left side of his 'throne'.

His pale blue eyes studied her form and a sadistically hungry grin slid across his lips upon observing her attempt to modestly obscure his view of her chest. His voice broke the silence; deep, guttural, booming. "Yet another lamb wanders into the domain of the wolf...found what you were searching for, little lamb?". He had no idea how truly accurate that last part of his statement was, or that the roles of predator and prey were more suitably applied in reverse...