The Generator: The Succubae Seduction (46 page)

“They . . . they went north, Master,” she says around moans, trying to move her cunt against my hand.

“Good girl,” I whisper, nipping lightly at her ear. “You can cum now,” I give her permission as I pinch her clitoris between two fingers.

Her wail of pleasure rebounds off the walls, and I see some of her patrons start to fire off their seed as they cum too. Her rear clamps down hard on my tool, and I’m soon firing off into her colon, grunting with each spurt.

I pull out of her ass, and realize there is still one final step to her conversion. “Get on your knees and clean my cock,” I command her as I loosen the whip still bound tightly around her torso.

She doesn’t even hesitate, before dropping to her knees in front of me, gripping my softening cock, and starts cleaning it with her mouth. I notice that it is clean of anything untoward, before it disappears between her lips.

I can feel her tongue swirling around the tip of my over-sensitized phallus, and decide to pull out of her mouth. Leaning over, I grip her cheeks in my hand, and stare into her brown eyes. Not a trace of defiance is left, only complete submission. “That was very good, innkeeper. Now I want you to finish off any other patrons that haven’t gotten off to our little show.”

“Sheila, master,” she says quietly. “My name is Sheila. Will you ever come back?”

Pulling up my trousers, I turn and walk out, without giving her an answer, but something about her name tickles the back of my mind. What is it about her that—my mind grows thick with fog again and I dismiss the question.

A young woman bumps into me as I try to leave. “I’m sorry, mister,” she mumbles an apology. I feel her hand at my waist. Gripping her wrist, I pull it away before she can draw Muramasa.

“You don’t want to do that,” I growl at her, looking down into a young face framed by brown hair. Two blue eyes refuse to meet mine.

“Help!” the girl screams. “Rape!”

“Ha, ha,” a faceless male patron behind me scoffs at her. “We already know his worth. And the rest of us know your thieving ways, Ondy. It’s about time someone caught you.”

Without releasing her wrist, I drag her out of the brothel.

“Did she tell you?” the older farmer asks as I walk out, ignoring the struggling girl in my grasp. “I heard some yelling in there. Did you have to get rough?”

I chuckle lightly as I answer him, “You could say that. It was definitely some lord, and he took your daughter north.”

“Who’s this?” he asks, finally noticing the girl.

“A little thief,” I tell the farmer. “What should we do with her?”

“We can’t take her with us,” the man says, but I see he is eyeing the younger woman. “It’ll be too dangerous.”

“I can fight!” the girl states, twisting her arm just right and escaping my grip. “Let me help you. It’s the least I can do to make up for trying to rob you.”

I look doubtfully at her, but she
had
escaped my grip.

“You can fight?” the farmer echoes my thoughts.

“I can!” she exclaims indignantly. “Let me borrow your sword,” she says, turning to me, “and I’ll show you.”

I grip the hilt of Muramasa protectively as I glare at her. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, girl.” I turn to Thomas, but he already knows what I’m going to ask, and nods. “Test your skills bare handed against him,” I tell the thief.

“But he has a. . . .” she trails off as Thomas removes the sword from his hip and hands it to me. She barely even waits for him to let go, before springing her attack.

I can tell right away that she has speed on her side as the veteran farmer barely blocks her fist. She aims a kick for his hip, but he scoots back, and her foot passes harmlessly by. With her now off-balance, Thomas takes advantage, and delivers a quick open-handed blow to her back.

Ondy stumbles forward, but recovers quickly and with grace. This time she’s wary as she faces her opponent, trying to get a better grasp of his skills. The two trade precise blows, blocking and dodging as necessary, while gauging each other’s capabilities.

Where did the old man learn to fight like that, I wonder, and then remember that he’d been in some war. Still, it doesn’t seem to sit right that he’s this good.

I see him slowing, and she notices it too. With a triumphant yell, she dodges around a weakened jab, and goes in for the final strike.

Thomas nearly blurs, and before I know it, Ondy yelps and is on her back. Thomas is sitting on her stomach, her arms held against her sides by the older man’s legs.

“Yield,” Ondy cries out, seeing the game is lost.

The older farmer gets up, and I hand his sword back to him.

“You’re fast, girl, but you’re also impatient.” He reaches down and offers her a hand up. She disdains it, and gets back up on her own.

“You tricked me,” she complains.

Thomas laughs heartily, before replying. “In a fight for your life, never assume you know your opponent. They just might surprise you.”

“But we weren’t fighting for our lives. It was just a little sparring,” she defends herself.

Thomas scowls at her. His tone grows deadly serious. “Every fight is a fight for your life. Don’t forget that.” He sucks in a deep breath and continues in a more moderate tone, “You’re welcome to come with us; I guess we could use your help. You know how to fight, but you also have a
lot
to learn.”

Thomas turns north, and I fall into step next to him. A couple seconds later, Ondy comes running back up to us. “Will you teach me?” she asks Thomas, and he only grunts in assent. “I don’t have a weapon.” She says next. Without looking, the old man produces a dagger from nowhere and hands it to her. This man is more dangerous than I’d originally given him credit for.

The woman slips the dagger into a sash around her hip. We walk for a ways in silence. Ondy proves her worth as she finds tracks on the edge of town, heading north.

Straight into a forbidding looking forest. Yay.

“We should go around,” Ondy states, but Thomas shakes his head.

“My daughter’s in there, and I’m going to get her back.” His tone is so adamant that I decide not to argue.

“I know these woods,” Ondy declares unhappily. “If we run into any problems, let me do the talking.”

Keeping one hand on the hilt of Muramasa, and both eyes open, I follow Thomas and Ondy into the dark forest.

The first sign of trouble comes from Ondy as she yelps and jumps back, brandishing her dagger. A shadowy form steps out onto the path, their features obscured by the gloom of the area. I can tell that this person at least has a face.

“Leave your weapons and all your money, and we’ll let you leave with your lives.” A slight breeze blows through, and a shaft of light pierces the branches, giving me a quick look at her face. Short brown hair and a blue eye. Her left eye is covered by an eye patch. I have just enough time to make out a crossbow in her hands, before the light is blocked again.

She also has the biggest knockers I’ve ever seen on a woman, her bodice is cut low to take full advantage of her incredible cleavage.

“I’m just trying to find my daughter,” Thomas yells to the woman, ignoring Ondy’s indignant hiss at not being allowed to talk first. “Did you see her come by here? Some men took her.”

The woman laughs throatily before answering. “You mean that little slip of a thing riding in that lordly man’s lap? Didn’t look to me like she wanted rescuing.” She laughs again, and there’s a coldness to it this time. “Of course, she was also out cold, but the man’s hands were all over her.”

“You bitch,” the farmer screams, drawing his sword and charging the woman.

She lazily lifts her crossbow, and I barely have time to shout a warning before she fires the quarrel at him.

A loud clang resounds through the forest, and I’m certain the bolt is lodged in the man’s breastplate. His sword clatters to the ground, and I see him hunch over, holding his hands close to his chest.

“She only has one bolt,” Thomas gasps. “Get her before she can reload.”

Before I can begin to move, the trees and leaves around us rustle. I watch as faceless people step out of the shadows, some holding crossbows and regular bows, some holding daggers and swords.

In the time it takes me to notice the rest of the bandits, Ondy has moved over to check on Thomas.

“Is he okay?” I ask, still wary to draw Muramasa.

“I’m fine!” he yells. “Damn bitch hit the cross-guard and knocked my blade out of my hands.”

I breathe easier as I hear those words.

“Look,” I say, addressing the well-endowed woman, “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just trying to retrieve his daughter. We have no money, and our weapons aren’t worth your effort.”

“Any weapon is worth the effort, Stranger, even the sword between your legs,” she laughs at me, “or is that one only a little dagger, not worth anything more than buttering my bread? ’Course that one on your hip looks rather nice as well.”

“This blade is cursed,” I inform her. “Believe me when I say I would hand it over if I could.” I look around at all the faceless bandits, trying to formulate a plan. “What will it take to leave here unmolested?”

“It’s too late for that, but for a bit of entertainment, we may let you leave with your gear,” her almost too quick reply makes me worried.

“What kind of entertainment?” Ondy asks, just as worried. As the only woman in our group, she has the most to lose.

“Sorry, sweety,” the bandit leader quips, “you aren’t my type, and I have plenty of men to satisfy me if I want.” She starts to unlimber her shoulders, turning her neck from side-to-side, and I have a feeling I know where this is going. “How’s about we go one-on-one, to the death. You win, and you walk free. I win. . . . Well, if I win, let’s just say I’ll end up with your stuff anyway.”

“I accept,” I say easily, confident I can beat this one eyed woman. I walk over to pick up Thomas’s sword, but he yells at me to stop.

“No,” he tells me. “She disarmed me with her little trick. I need to regain some honor, and I don’t want anyone else touching my sword.”

He picks up his blade, or tries to. His right hand doesn’t seem to want to properly wrap around the grip, but he grunts and picks it up with his left hand. Giving it a few practice swings, he faces the bandit leader, sword up and ready. I just hope he’s good enough with his left hand.

“You’re hurt,” Ondy exclaims. “Don’t do it.” When he doesn’t respond to her, she turns to me. I can see the pleading in her eyes. When did she start caring so much? “You can’t let him do this. I know who she is!” She flings her arm out, pointing at the female bandit. “That’s Jenny of the Large Pennies. She’s a dead shot with any bow, and nearly as good with a blade. She’ll kill him.”

“Not nearly as good, darling,” Jenny says sweetly, “better.”

I understand Thomas’s position, though, and know he needs to do this for his honor. If anyone else fights for him, he will lose even more face.

“Take care of my daughter, Stranger. Thanks for your help to this point.” The man’s words are solemn, and I take it he’s heard of her too.

“The name’s Lyden Snow,” I tell him, at least wanting him to know whom he’s traveling with.

Everyone suddenly freezes, staring at me and even Ondy backs away, covering her mouth in worry.

“That’s a poor joke to make, friend,” Thomas states, then turns back to his foe, closing the distance in only a couple steps.

Those two steps are all the warning Jenny gets, but it’s enough. Her blade blurs as it comes out of its sheath, and meets his blade, edge-to-edge. Her riposte is quick and hard, knocking Thomas backwards a step. I actually wonder that the bandit is able to move with such ease, with such a large chest, but when she somehow gets behind Thomas and bumps into him with her breasts, knocking him down, I see she uses them as an asset, rather than a hindrance.

I also see that she’s just playing with the older man. There’s no doubt that he’s a skilled swordsman, even left-handed, but she’s younger, quicker, and more agile. She also has a surprising amount of strength in her attacks. I watch as Thomas’s attacks grow weaker and weaker, hoping that he’s using the same ruse he’d used on Ondy earlier.

Sure enough, just when it looks like he’s done for, he springs his final attack.

A painfully cracking clang reverberates through the trees, and something shiny strikes the dirt in front of me. Looking closer, I see it’s the remains of Thomas’s blade.

My head snaps back up as Ondy cries, “
No
!”

Thomas is staring at the four inches of steel above the guard in shock. He collapses to his knees, and I can just make out a trickle of blood seeping from his cheek.

I quickly grab Ondy before she can take off. She starts to fight me as Jenny places the blade at his throat. Her eye meets mine. Suddenly I feel like I know who she really is. Flashes of memory start to seep through the fog that’s been surrounding my mind.

“Jennifer?” I ask, struggling to recall how I know her.

“Lyden? What—“ her words are cut off as Thomas uses the distraction to ram the remains of his blade through her neck, and into her brain.

“
NO
!” This time it’s me screaming the words as I watch the woman I once knew fall to the ground, lifeless. I can’t hold onto Ondy any longer, and she rushes over to Thomas, pulling him into a hug. I feel the fog start to creep back in, obscuring my mind and forcing my memories away.

I begin crawling over to them, but by the time I reach Thomas and Ondy, I can’t remember why I’m crying. The bandit leader is dead, and her cohorts have retreated into the forest, staying true to her word. I should be happy, but the tears won’t stop.

Raiding a dead body is a hard thing to do, but we end up with her blade and crossbow, along with a small bundle of quarrels, and a bag full of coins. We’ve won our freedom, so why am I still so sad?

“We’d better get moving,” Thomas states, shaking my shoulders and reminding me that we’re not out of the woods yet. Penny of the Large Pennies is dead, but her bandit crew could still be lurking in the trees.

“But your cheek,” Ondy states. “You’re injured!”

The old farmer wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, smearing blood across it, but also showing that it’s nothing more than a scratch.