The Knight and the Acolyte Book 5 Chapter 6 Catgirl s Claws
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The Knight And The Acolyte Book 6: Heart's LongingChapter 1: The Pirate's Claws free porn video
Knight-Errant Angela – The Nimborgoth south of Raratha
The oars creaked and the sailors grunted as they rowed the longboat farther and farther from Raratha and the Saltspray Palace. No one spoke. We were all reeling from the events of the night. What should have been the perfect crime transformed into a catastrophe thanks to the interference of the erinyes. Now the Doge of Raratha knew we had stolen the piece of the High King’s sword from the Great Vault in his palace.
My name would be attainted. Soon the Lord-Commander would learn of my crime. Theft, assault on the ruler of Raratha, violation of hospitality. Serious crimes. Though I never liked the plan to have our newest companion, Minx, steal the piece, I understood the necessity. The Doge would never have parted with his treasure. He was too miserly.
Did the good act of slaying the dragon Dominari outweigh the crime we committed?
I pulled out the two pieces of the sword, the handle and crossguard we recovered from Murathi and the pommel Minx and Xera looted from the Great Vault. The golden pieces fit together. Power tingled in the pieces, memory of the god-forged blade’s prowess.
Stealing the sword’s pommel may have been a good act, but Minx and Xera looted more treasure to pay the pirate ship we rowed to—the Golden Hunger. Thrak, with Minx’s introduction, contracted the pirate Thyrna, a dangerous woman, to ferry us across the Nimborgoth. It was necessary for Minx, Xera, and Thrak to slip away from Raratha before the Doge discovered the theft. Sophia, Faoril, Chaun, and myself would have remained guests of the palace for a few more days before sailing to Baraconia on the Island of Birds to meet our companions, allaying any suspicion of the theft from us.
“There it is,” Sophia said, the first person to speak since the startling news Chaun had told me. Not even Chaun said a word since he revealed his secret. Normally, the bard would sing a song to hearten our spirits. I could not believe he knew Lady Delilah, the beautiful, redheaded Knight Deute who had been my inspiration to join the order. My head still swam from the revelation. She had set him on the path to join us. So why did she give me a garnet necklace, worn about my neck, and its twin to the now dead Warlock Fireeyes?
Was she aiding or hindering me?
I touched the necklace, stroking it. I thought when she gave me the necklace, the morning I set out on my quest, it was a token of her care for me. Her words had given me the strength to face the quest. My girlhood crush flared to life. But Fireeyes, according to Faoril, had used its twin to track us. And the foul warlock had tried to kill us several times for reasons I still did not know.
“She looks like a caravel.” Disappointment soured Sophia’s voice as she stared at the Golden Hunger bobbing on the dark sea. A caravel was a common type of ship.
“Did you expect her to look special?” grunted a rower. Like the others he was a strapping man, deep-chested, broad-shouldered, handsome countenance. The rough man I liked to tumble with.
“Well...” Sophia’s words trailed off. Her light-brown hair framed her youthful face. We were of an age, but she had a soft innocence about her that hadn’t been fully weathered away by nearly four months of hard traveling and danger. “I thought the ship would be ... menacing.”
“When she’s runnin’ full sail, bearin’ down on a Grahaten baroque, she’s plenty menacin’.”
Another sailor snorted, his wide, ebony face twisting as a sardonic grin graced thick lips. “Plus the Cap’n’s plenty menacing on her own.”
Thrak nodded his head in agreement. “She’s got the spine of an orc wife. Deep eyes. Hungry eyes.”
“Well, she is a pirate captain,” Chaun supplied. He had reverted to his normal appearance: midnight-black skin—darker than the ebony pirate—silver-white hair, pointed ears like Xera’s, and a face that verged on beautiful, delicate yet still male. “I imagine more than a few tales are sung about her.”
“Oh, yes,” chortled Minx. The halfling thief clutched her sack of loot on her lap. In the darkness, her size made her seem like a child holding a large, lumpy pillow. But no child had her mischievous grin. “But she’s an honest pirate. You don’t stick a knife in her back, and she probably won’t stick one in yours.”
“Probably?” Sophia asked. Then she glanced at Thrak. “Is she beautiful?”
Thrak glanced at Faoril, who stared out at the waters, before answering, “Like a winter storm.”
Xera smiled at Sophia. “You’re next conquest?”
“I’m always on the prowl.”
Xera’s ears twitched in mirth, drawing my eyes to the four-leafed clover tucked behind her right one. Where had she gotten it?
“Cap’n ain’t no gamahaucher,” the ebony sailor grunted, his muscles rippling as he worked the oar.
“A what?” asked Sophia.
“Pussy licker,” a blue-skinned, Valyan sailor answered. “Cap’n don’t like women.”
“Maybe I can convince her.”
“Don’t antagonize her,” I admonished, glancing at my lover. “Let’s not annoy the pirate captain ferrying us.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Those two words always sent a hot flutter through me. Such sweet words. I loved playing at domination with my lover. A ship would have abundant rope...
Thoughts of binding Sophia occupied me as we came along side the Golden Hunger. The crew, more brawny men, moved on the dark deck. On the stern deck, a slim figure watched. I thought I caught the reflection of moonlight in a pair of eyes slitted like a cat’s. Was she a lamia?
A net made of thick ropes were thrown over the side, a makeshift ladder. Sophia went before me, cursing under her breath as she struggled up the swaying, twisting net. Xera and Minx had no problems, but my feet kept slipping. The ropes creaked ominously while the Nimborgoth’s waves lapped against the ship’s hull.
A sudden fear seized me. I wore armor and deep waters were below.
I climbed faster.
The ship’s railing didn’t seem so high up until I started climbing. The wind gusted, thick with sea salt. Above me, Sophia struggled, gasping as her foot slipped. Her arms hooked through the netting, hugging the ropes as she struggled to hold on. My hands squeezed the ropes as the net swayed.
“Sophia,” I groaned.
“I’m fine,” she gasped. “Sorry. My feet are tangling in my robe.”
Sophia found her footing while I swayed beneath her clinging to the netting. My chainmail loincloth clinked and jingled. Sophia climbed again and reached the top, her white robes swirling as she hauled herself over and onto the decking. I focused on the top, ignoring the water slapping against the dark hull, and sighed when my fingers reached the railing. A moment later, I rolled over and landed on my feet on the deck.
The ship moved beneath me. I frowned, my stomach lurching as I forced myself to adjust to the balance. There was no end to the adjustments I had to make, my feet sliding, my hips moving to keep me upright. The sailors moved with it naturally while I took a moment to put out my arms and steady myself.
It was different than the river boat’s rock, more pronounced, the Nimborgoth’s swells greater than the rippling of the Royton River. I gripped the railing and shook my head, struggling to get used to the bob.
“So, I see things did not go as you planned, Thrak,” a woman’s voice purred.
The figure on the higher stern deck stepped down the narrow stairs, her boots thudding. Sophia let out a sigh of pure lust as the captain of the Golden Hunger reached the lower deck. She was a tall woman with wavy-black hair framing a sensuous face. Hungry lips smiled, dark eyes gleamed. Her skin was dark-brown, not from the sun’s tan, but a natural brown, a hue I had never seen on a human before. From what land did she hail? Her eyes were normal, human. Whatever I had seen reflected must have been the jewelry adorning her body. Tight, leather britches clung to curvy hips, and a ruffled blouse, left half-unbutton to display her large breasts, rippled in the wind.
“Things rarely do,” the orc replied. “This is Knight-Errant Angela, the leader of our quest.”
I forced myself from the railing and walked to the woman, noting the cutlass hanging on her hip. She wore it with a natural grace. Her eyes flicked to me for a moment and then back to Thrak. “Do you have my promised treasure, orc? Or do I have to throw you and your companions overboard?” She paused, her smile growing hungrier. “Well, maybe not you.”
“We have it,” I answered, standing beside Thrak. “Minx, Xera.”
The halfling and elf brought the two sacks of treasure forward. Behind us, the pirates hauled up our belongings, grunting as they worked the ropes. Minx sighed as she set her sack down and shook her head, then she opened it up. Xera had no hesitation.
The captain smiled. “Well, well, well. You did loot the Doge’s Great Vault. He must be wroth with you.”
“Very,” I answered.
“One sack is almost too much,” the captain sighed. “Even with the palace shining with lights and ringing with alarms, I did not truly believe you would rob his Great Vault. Or, at least, escape.”
“You didn’t realize I was the best thief in Raratha,” Minx boasted.
An idea occurred to me. We were fugitives. Finding honest merchants to transport us from the Island of Birds once we had the next piece of the sword may prove difficult. “Apply the excess to our next contract,” I answered. “Once we finish our business in Baraconia, we have other stops to make.”
“Stops?”
I pictured the route we had planned. From Baraconia we would travel to the city of Hargone at the mouth of the Elpa River. The city lay on the other side of the Nimborgoth. From there, we would venture into the Halani Desert to find the famed Mirage Gardens where another piece of the sword was contained. Then we had to sail to Grahata and slay the Minotaur in the city’s labyrinth. A task no hero has attempted in a thousand years. Then we needed to travel to the Haunted Forest and find the final piece of my ancestors sword. Thaville was the nearest port to that. Then our final voyage, sailing north into the Holani Sea and reaching the port of Unmik back on the mainland.
“A few,” I nodded and explained our course. The captain arched an eyebrow as I described our course and quest. Minx listened intently, her eyes wide. She had not heard the entire quest before. She rubbed her hands together, eager for the adventure.
Talking helped me ignore the queasy roll in my stomach.
Acolyte Sophia
“Your treasure may hire me for the duration,” Captain Thyrna said. I loved watching the way her lips moved, my pussy dripping with excitement. “Depends on how long your missions take you. Travel to the Haunted Forest takes time and questing for the Mirage Gardens...” Her smile broadened. “Of course, more treasure would bind me farther.”
Angela nodded her head. “Very well.”
“The Golden Hunger has very few guest quarters, but they are yours. You will have to double up and share.”
“What about your quarters?” I asked, putting on my most seductive smile. “I’m sure we could make that enjoyable.”
The captain’s eyes hardened. “When the sun lightens the horizon, we’ll sail south for Baraconia.” And then she swept away, barking orders at her crew, ignoring me.
I sighed in disappointment.
“I guess no fun for you,” Angela said, a smile on her lips.
“I guess not.” I stretched my back and yawned. “Oh, well, it is late. And the sphinx gave me quite a lot of fun tonight.” My pussy ached, remembering the sphinx’s wonderful tongue licking my pussy. Concubine fit for a queen.
I liked what the sphinx said about me.
“Care to find our quarters, Mistress?” I asked, sidling closer to Angela.
“I...” Her eyes widened. In the silvery moonlight, her face turned a curious shade, and then her boots pounded as she raced for the railing and retched.
“Angela,” I gasped, moving across the rolling deck. My stomach swayed inside of me. A touch of queasiness gripped me, spurred more by the sounds coming from my lover than the ocean’s swell. I grabbed her red hair, pulling it out of the way before she got sick on it. “Are you okay?”
“Why does the boat move so much?” she groaned. “The river made me a little queasy. But this? I—”
I blanched and looked away, wishing I didn’t have to hear the sounds.
Warlock Faoril
I drifted away from the others. They spoke but their words passed through me without comprehension. Shock had hollowed out my innards. I felt so light I was shocked the sea breeze did not borne me aloft and carry me away. I reached the ship’s bow, climbing a steep ladder onto the higher deck. I stared at the spar jutting forward, sharp, hard.
Did the ship ever ram its prey?
Relaria’s yowling death scream echoed through my mind. My thoughts were trapped in a deep rut, replaying her death over and over, feeling the knot in the back of my head that was her life unraveling. I had used Fireeyes’s foul knowledge to dominate and control the lamia. It was to protect our mission. And then when I dueled the Doge’s personal mage, I needed help.
I didn’t hesitate to summon Relaria and use her as a distraction. She wasn’t supposed to die.
Relaria’s yowl as the sparks flared about her, throwing her body back into the burning brush of the garden.
I stared at the ocean. The dark waves flashed silver as they rippled before me. The ship bobbed and rocked. The wind touched my light-brown hair and rustled my red robes. The soot of Fireeyes’s book still stained my hand. I had burned it. I was wrong about it.
Some knowledge was too wicked to ever be used.
Why wasn’t I crying? I killed an innocent lamia. I forced her to attack a Master Mage, a man I had trouble dueling. She had no choice in it. I held her will. She was my slave.
Relaria’s yowl screamed through my mind. Her body rolled limp across the ground, her flesh burned from the mage’s wards.
“Faoril.”
Thrak’s booming voice washed over me. He surprised me, but I didn’t jump. He loomed behind me. I wanted to turn, to bury my face into his chest and feel his strong arms about me. But I didn’t deserve comfort.
I was a murderer.
“Faoril.” Softer this time. His broad, swarthy hands rested on my shoulders, squeezing, comforting.
I shrugged them away.
“What’s wrong? What happened up there?”
I couldn’t answer him. How could I explain what I did? Relaria yowled, screeching in dying pain. I did that to her.
“Please, Faoril.”
I had to say something. I had to tell him. I tried to open my mouth, but a cork plugged my soul, bottling up the guilt. My hands gripped the railing. I shook as I struggled. “Nothing.”
No. Don’t say that. Tell him. Tell him what you did. You’re a murderer. A filthy, gods-damned murderer.
“I’m just tired. I used a lot of magic. I had to fight the Doge’s mage. He was a master.”
“I see.” Thrak paused. “So you’ll be expelled from your order?”
“A criminal. A warlock.” Like Fireeyes. We were both evil. “It will be execution if I return.” Deservedly so. I was a murderer, but the council would only care that I assaulted a Master Mage.
“I’m sorry.” His hands found me again. He thought I mourned my chance to attained the black robes and earn the rank of Master Mage. What did that matter balanced against Relaria’s life?
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not. You don’t deserve that. You—”
“Thrak,” a purring voice call. The captain.
“Yes?” Thrak growled.
“I need to speak with you in my quarters.” Lust dripped from the captain’s words. Feminine lust.
“Not now.”
“No, now. I am the captain, Thrak, and you will attend me. We have things to discuss.”
“It’s fine,” I answered. “She’s beautiful. Enjoy.”
“It’s not fine.” He squeezed my shoulders.
“Thrak,” hissed the captain. “I do not accept disobedience on my ship.”
“Just go, Thrak.” Finally emotion entered my voice—bitter heat. “Go. I don’t need your right now, okay? I just need to be alone.”
Thrak’s hands withdrew. “Don’t pull away, Faoril.”
“Thrak!”
“She’s getting angry. Go. I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he sighed, and then his footsteps thudded away while the captain let out a hungry purr.
I leaned on the railing. The waters were so dark and deep. How many fathoms lay beneath us? How far down was the ocean’s bottom? A vast emptiness filled with shadows. Relaria yowled her dying screech.
Thrak
“What?” I demanded when I reached the captain. She stood with a hungry smile on her face. I was not in the mood to satiate her wanton hungers. Faoril was hurting. Something terrible had happened in the palace.
And the damned captain wanted to fuck.
“In private,” she purred, turning, sashaying away. The leathers gripped her ass, her butt-cheeks rippling with each step.
My cock, divorced from my mind, throbbed and hardened.
I let out an angry snarl as I followed after. If she wanted to fuck, I would make her howl. I would fuck her so hard she limped. She thought to rouse an orc’s passion? I would teach her how an orc really fucks.
She let out a purr, her hips shaking more. “I’ve been thinking about you ever since you bested Castor with ease.” A shudder ran through her. “Such strength. You crushed him.”
She was aroused by violence and eager to dominate. A sadist.
The stern deck rose over the mid deck Between the two steep stairs that led to the stern deck was a doorway to the cabins. She thrust it opened, and I followed her down a dark hallway, passing four doors. A fifth lay at the hallways end. She threw it open revealing her bedroom, a bed dominating the room, covered in silken sheets. One wall hung with cutlasses of various styles, trophies. Several chests lay along another wall.
The final wall was covered in lashes, whips, and flails.
“You have a stubborn streak,” she purred, her fingers going to the lacings of her ruffled blouse. “You’re used to giving commands. But there can only be one captain on the ship.”
“And you think whips will make me your obedient slave like the cowed men who crew your ship.”
“Strong men who found their power in surrendering to me,” she answered as she slipped her blouse off. Her round breasts appeared as dark-brown as the rest of her body, her right nipple pierced by a gold ring.
“I’m not one of your crew.” I folded my arms, my dick tenting the front of my kilt.
Her eyes flicked down to my bulge. She licked her lips. “Show me your passion, orc. Show me how much my body inspires your lust.”
“Why?”
“To please me,” she purred. “Don’t you want to please me?”
“You need to earn it,” I said. Her attempts at domination amused me. “On your knees first. That way you’re ready to suck my cock.”
Her teeth flashed as she laughed. Her wavy hair danced about her shoulders and her breasts jiggled. “You think I would suck your cock? I don’t serve.” She turned and grasped a cat-of-nine tails from the wall, the strips of dark leather ending in knots. She swished the flail against her hand, the leather thudding. “No, no, no. That’s your job. Kneel, kiss my boots, and then I may let you lick my pussy and please me.”
My dick ached, my lust mixing with anger. Faoril needed me, and the captain wanted to play games? Then I would play. I unslung my greataxe from my back and set it on the floor. Then I pulled the knots holding my kilt up. It dropped from my swarthy, muscular body, my dick thrusting forward.
Her eyes smiled at the sight of the bone ring piercing the tip. “Well, I do like a man pierced. I’m glad you’re ready to please me.”
I snorted.
Anger hissed from her. Her eyes flashed as she lunged forward. The cat o’ nine tails hissed and cracked across my broad, scarred chest. Pain flared for a moment. I fixed a stare at her, ignoring the flail’s sting. Her face twisted and she whipped the flail across my stomach, the ends wrapping about my side, the painful knots cracking against my back.
“Is that supposed to hurt?”
Her breasts heaved as she hissed, “Ooh, you are a stubborn one. You think I’ve never had a man pretend my cat doesn’t hurt? I know how to handle men like you.” Her free hand reached out, grasping my cock. She stroked me. Pleasure rushed through my body. “Mmm, you are throbbing for me. You ache to be in me, don’t you?”
“A man rises to any stimulation,” I answered. “It is an automatic response caused by stimulation to my nerves. Many are clustered at the tip of my cock.”
She furrowed her eyebrows. “An educated orc.” Her thumb ran across the tip of my cock. I fought the shuddering groan that wanted to rise from my throat. “The stimulation may be automatic, but that doesn’t change how you ache to rut in my flesh. To feel my sweet cunny wrapped about your hard prick. I can feel it. Smell it. The lust pours off of you, orc.”
The flail cracked down on my shoulders, the knots striking my back. My flesh welted. I did not wince or flinch.
“So you will submit to me because you want satisfaction. You will fall to your knees, kiss my boots, and then lick my pussy because of the promise of release.” She stroked the tip of my dick as she cracked the flail on my back.
Pain and pleasure mixed.
Her lips moved to my ears. Her fingers still teased me, smearing precum about the sensitive crown and brushing my cock ring. I ached. My balls boiled. Her lips licked my ear. “You will experience ecstasy when you give up control. I will show you pleasures you have never tasted. There is rapture in pain. Bliss in agony.
“Satisfaction in surrender.”
My hand reached out and gripped her right breast. I squeezed, my thumb brushing her hard nipple and piercing. “Then why aren’t you falling to your knees and sucking my cock, slut?”
She screeched. Her fingers squeezed on my dick, her fingernails sharp. Agony shot up my cock mixing with the ecstasy of her touch. I groaned as she stepped back and slashed the flail hard at my body.
Crack!
Burning heat flared across my skin. I felt all nine straps kiss me with agony, striking harder than before. She had held back. Blood oozed down my side. Her hips undulated and she let out a lust-filled moan, her eyes locked on the crimson dribbling down my side.
“Submit and embrace the pain.”
“Enough,” I growled as she swung. I caught her flail and wrenched it from her hands. My dick ached. The pain mixed with the promise of pleasure. My side throbbed with my cock. I cast the flail to the floor and lunged at her.
She danced back, but I was quick. She underestimated how fast my bulk could move. I towered over her, thrusting her against the wall of her cabin between the support beams. The wood groaned and she grunted. Her breasts heaved.
Lust shone in her eyes.
I kissed her lips as one hand seized her breast again. I growled as I squeezed hard on her tit. She shuddered, moaning into the kiss. My other hand ripped at the lacing of her leather britches. I shoved the tight clothing down, my fingers running across her smooth pudenda.
Then I found her shaved heat. Wet lust coated my fingers as I rubbed at her pussy. Her hand found my cock, stroking it, while the other grasped the back of my neck and squeezed, holding me tight to her lips. Her fingernails were long, sharp, biting into my flesh.
Adding pain to the pleasure of her hand stroking my cock.
I thrust two fingers into her cunt. Her molten flesh gripped my digits. She groaned and gasped as I thrust them deep into her. She stroked my dick faster, pressing the tip against her warm belly. Our tongues fenced, each vying to conquer the other.
My fingers found her nipple ring. I tugged on it. Her pussy clenched on my other digits. I probed them deeper, faster, fucking her as she undulated and stroked me. My dick ached. I wanted to be buried in her cunt.
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