The Vixen Torn (8 page)

Without the subtlest of shifts in his demeanor but for the
movement of his eyes as he watched her face turn colour, he then
released the hold of the chain and she felt her throat open up again.
Life giving air rushed in to her lungs in sweet relief.

She gulped in the air and coughed, her head lowering as she felt
her knees go weak with the sudden rush of oxygen.
Stupid, Anjasa
,
she berated herself. Why couldn’t she stop lusting for these
men?

“You’ve known since I accepted the tea,” she
praised him, but her eyes remained locked on his chest as she tried
to breathe.

He stared into her, almost through her, a while longer. The tight
press of his body keeping her from slipping down onto the floor as
his one arm was about her. He spoke at last, his voice demanding,
controlled. “What were you planning?”

She shrugged slightly, her lids descending, “To do what I
always do. Act, then think,” she smiled. “Maybe get the
will in return for a reward.”

Her honesty was rewarded with a gentle, but almost imperceptible
loosening of the chain about her neck. His gaze moved up across her
face and locked with her own. “And what will you do now?”
the question so simple, stated plainly, but she knew the implications
of it. There was only one right answer: serve.

It made her body clench, and it felt so delightful. It was pure
pleasure. It wasn’t the uncoiling of an orgasm, it wasn’t
the fleeting bliss of sex. It was something more primal, something
beaten into her over long, horrible years.

“Whatever you want,” she murmured obediently.

The necklace loosened enough to reward her for that, though it
remained a leash about her neck as he brought his other hand from the
bar up along her back. He grasped hold of her long, dark hair, pulled
back on it so that her neck had to arch lest he rip the strands from
her head.

“My cousin is a nuisance,” he husked into her ear,
leaning over her shoulder as he let go of the chain and grasped her
hip. “Don’t you think?” with a slow, powerful grasp
he twisted her about, giving her just enough room so that she was
able to turn and face the bar before he pressed her cheek down onto
the bar top.

“He’s useless,” she replied, feeling that cool
metal touch her burning cheek. She knew it would come to this. That
there was no other alternative but to choose her allegiance between
the two sparring relatives. No one liked loose ends, least of all
she, but Loren had been a fun time. This man... He would not be
sulking in a bar if he lost his fortune. He’d simply make a new
one.

Bent over her backside he spoke in that increasingly low voice
right into her ear, “Though he could be a problem for me
despite his uselessness.” He retracted from her just a bit,
still pressing her head down onto the bar, but the press of that
hefty manhood relinquished. “You have your uses though, don’t
you?” and she could read the lewd suggestion in that question.

“Many,” she agreed, and her fingers tightened on the
bar. She hated the lack of his body against hers, and her eyes
narrowed in annoyance. Who had broken up their moment? Who had
interrupted them and turned their relationship into... this.

Business.

She felt the return of his second hand, the fingertips trailing up
her thigh, pushing the hem of her dress up slowly higher. “What
uses will you offer me, Miss Anjasa?” and he sounded for all
the world like the calm, collected man who had treated her so
generously all day. The threat was all in his behaviour, in the
implicit.

“Whatever you need,” she assured him. “I’m
adaptable.” His fingers were like fire to her, and she both
wanted the soothing heat and feared the searing pain it would bring.
It was exquisite. Her legs were toned and shapely, her thighs were
still thick and powerful beneath his hand, and she pushed into it
almost imperceptibly.

His touch gravitated around her beautiful thigh to its smooth
inner flesh. His fingertips glided up to her sex, where he found her
bare, her slick lips delightfully nude so that nothing kept his
digits from feeling her arousal. “You’re offering me this
then,” it was less a question and more a statement, but with
his pause, she knew it required an answer.

“Yes.” She was too needy to give a smart ass answer,
her body so primed for his touch. It was like sparks going through
her, everything seeming to be intensified in her high adrenaline
state. She couldn’t even bother feeling ashamed that even the
top parts of her inner thighs were coated in her feminine cream.

His hand withdrew from her, and though she couldn’t move her
head thanks to his tight hold, she could hear the faint noises with
her keen elven ears. The softly moist sound of lips moving upon
fingers followed by the noise of a leather belt and fabric pants
coming undone. “And you’re offering to help deal with my
cousin for me,” the words arriving just as that familiar feel
of a man’s bulging crown brushed against her labia.

Her knees threatened to buckle, but she pushed herself up on
tiptoes, trying to beg him in. She felt so warm, and she squirmed
trying to force him to fuck her. “Yes.” She was in no
position to argue, to try to spare Loren’s life. Not now.

She got one of her wishes though, for he pressed that bulging
shaft into her, spearing open her waiting quim upon his thick girth.
He gave but a low ‘umph’ of satisfaction as her tight
folds gripped his length. He hilted himself inside her, bending over
her as he leaned to her ear, rasping out his words. “And when
you’re done all that, you’ll offer your body to me for
sale at my club.” The next thrust following immediately after,
striking her deep and hard, jarring her core.

Her fingers dug into the bar, and even in the moment she realized
what a harsh bargain she was getting. All for being curious. For not
heeding her instincts and just buggering off. She couldn’t say
she didn’t know it was coming, though, and she couldn’t
help the fact that it made her moan.

The idea that she’d be only making money for him, though,
made her body tense.

Her thoughts were hard to focus however, for the cruel man’s
thrusts came on forceful and increasingly fast. He was pounding into
her with a depth and intensity the drunken Loren couldn’t have
matched the night before. With a harsh yank on her hair he brought
her head back further, his dick swelling inside her canal as he spoke
into her ear darkly. “You’ll be my own little pet elf
whore. And if you’re a very good girl, I’ll continue to
reward you. Wouldn’t you like that?” he asked just before
his hand cracked down against one of her ass cheeks in between
thrusts of his cock.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so primed and needy, but
that wasn’t a surprise. Her mind had dimmed considerably as he
fucked her so... right. Her body was pressed to painful limits, her
muscles cramping as she was thrust against the bar again and again,
but it was exquisite. He was so cruel and in control.

“Yes,” she blurted out, and even she was surprised by
the honesty in her tone. For that moment, that heated moment, that
was what she wanted.

The crude slaps of their bodies striking one another, his pale
human flesh on her tan elven skin, striking again and again. He held
nothing back, showed no mercy, but just as she felt his shaft swell
within her, could sense in that practiced manner that he was
approaching his own release, he yanked himself from her.

With a cruel tug, he pulled her off the bar by her hair so she
dropped to the floor on her knees. “You’re going to be
the most prized bitch in my stable,” he remarked, gripping the
base of his dick and taking hold of the thick pole, letting her see
it for the first time just as he struck her cheek and lips with it.

She watched, transfixed, as she lamented the emptiness. Tears
sprang to her eyes at his denial and her entire body burned as she
opened her mouth, lunging for him. She needed him inside her. She
wasn’t ready to lose him already. For this moment, for this to
be all over. For him to relinquish her to his patrons.

For the first time since she’d met the man, there was
surprise in his eyes as he watched her swallow his dick. It wasn’t
enough to make him delay long though, for soon after he was pumping
his shaft into her mouth, face fucking her as he held her hair so
that those heavy balls of his slapped her chin. “Maybe you’re
more special than I thought even,” he said a bit breathlessly.

She never slowed down, never stopped, as she licked her own juices
from him. She tasted that sweet, elven fluid combining with his human
taste, and hungered for more. She didn’t want to be one of his
whores. She wanted to be his. At least, for now she did. She felt her
throat constrict and protest as she took him deeper and deeper,
needing him to fill her.

She needed him to want her to himself.

He was breathing heavily over her, watching with such
concentration as she struggled to earn his favour.

Savouring the moment, he licked his lips before finally he pulled
his dick out of her mouth again and kept her at bay by his hold in
her tresses. He grasped his own shaft and began to pump it in front
of her. “This way suits you best,” he grunted out just a
moment before the first shot of cum lanced out of his bulging, purple
crown across her face.

She closed her eyes by instinct but her mouth still hung wide open
as he defiled her face with his seed. It wasn’t what she
wanted. She wanted him, fucking and threatening her, until she
couldn’t take any more. She wanted him to punish her, but for
him to make it clear that she was his to punish. Instead she felt
cheap and low, but that had its own appeal and she licked the cum
from around her mouth.

The man’s seed was slow to taper off, coating her in its
rich flow until at last he was done. He pressed the crown to her full
lips, squeezing out the last drop before he sighed in conclusion.

“There,” he said in that familiar voice, pulling her
head back so she had to gaze up at him, across his heaving chest.
“You’re going to take care of my problem for me. Then
you’re going to come back here, fall to your knees and beg me
for a place at my feet. Understood?” and his hand tightened on
her hair with that last question.

“Yes,” Anjasa answered simply again, her emerald eyes
trained on him as he took control of her body. “I understand.”
Her knees ached from the floor, but it was such a comforting feeling.
It was right, and she licked around her lips again. “I’m
not stupid.”

Staring down at her he simply said, “Good,” before
tucking his impressive tool back into his pants and then reaching
down. He undid the clasp of the necklace then yanked it off her
rudely. “This shall be yours again once you’ve earned
it,” he said. “Now you’re going to go with my
compatriot outside and take care of my little problem for me. Show
your value in another way,” he said with just the slightest
hint of a smirk.

“I work better alone,” she said as she pushed herself
up from the ground. It wasn’t quite embarrassment that burned
in her face, but there was some shame there. At being babysat, at
having to face someone with cum still lining her cheeks. “And I
will earn it back. Quickly.”

He stared her down a moment, his lip crooking just a bit. “We’ll
see,” he said, tossing the necklace aside onto a sofa then
going to the door. “He’ll inform you of what is to be
done, and how. Plus keeping an eye on you to make sure you follow
through,” he added, looking her over before he opened the door.

Before she could take the exit he slammed a hand to the wall and
pinned her there, shoving his face up nearly to her cumstained one.
“Do this perfectly, and maybe you’ll be the prize morsel
of my home and parties instead,” the promise a perverse twinkle
in his eyes.

Hope crept into her face. And desire. She barely knew what it was,
but he made it sound like something she should want, and that was
enough to make it so. She wanted to be a highly sought after prize,
not just a random girl of his.

In all things, she strived for the best. “Then that’s
what I’ll do.”

The slightest of smiles crept upon his face before he finally
pulled back and relinquished her to the freedom of the hall. Nary a
word more for her.

Anjasa saw the dark man watching her over her shoulder as she
cleaned away Zarach’s mess. He had been quiet as he guided her
to the washroom, his dark, seemingly black lined eyes glued to her.

There was no escaping the fact the man was foreign, though he
seemed human. His skin was a sandy brown, his clothes, dark leather
that covered the whole of his body up to his jaw but for his arms
showing signs of some exotic make. He was about the same height as
Zarach, but judging by the strong arms he sported, he had to have
been stronger still.

About his head he had on a hood and face mask that covered all but
his eyes. Those curiously exotic eyes that bored through her as if
surmising her very soul. They weren’t right. And though they
should’ve looked appealing to her, instead she got some strange
feeling that she was in danger. Danger beyond that of the mortal, as
if her very soul were in peril.

She’d been in trouble like this before. Rather, she’d
gotten herself in trouble, just like this, on multiple occasions. One
of the downsides of living so long was being able to make and repeat
so many mistakes. Anjasa knew why she did the things she did. After
all, her time at the hands of the man she only knew as ‘The
Jailer’ were filled with training.

Still, it always surprised her just how deeply he’d affected
her very mind and soul.

Yet he still couldn’t touch her like the strange man behind
her, and as she finally put the washcloth away, she didn’t
speak to him. She didn’t see the need.

Normally she’d be coy, playful even. She’d get herself
in more trouble, and love the punishment she received after. With
him, however, she was obedient in a way she’d never known
herself to be.