Trendil's Story part 40 - Planting a Seed
Entry posted by jfraser in Trendil's Story
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Cuss stood on the wall and looked out over the parapet toward the hill that blocked the view to the salt flats. Somewhere out there, Whip was leading a company with Bent in it. If things went as they had, they would be facing a dragon and then come upon a company of Imperials. Last time, Lint had been there to make sure (almost) everyone came out alive. This time, Cuss was stuck on the walls hoping Bent returned. He had never thought of himself as the “worried woman waiting at home” sort, yet here he was, waiting and worrying.
The one positive about being arbitrarily assigned to be a bowman was that he did not have to work the gate. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he was forced to be the one who accosted women for carrying weapons or, divines forbid, trying to get home.
Somewhere in the city, a horn blared a single note, and Cuss sighed a breath of relief. Their shift was over – now he could get back to real work. He headed down the stairs, across the front courtyard of the city, then down a street that led toward the Gray Quarter. Just before he got to the slums, he stopped at a particular door and entered.
The Hidden Pearl was a very niche brothel catering to particular tastes. It sat just on the edge between the slums and the “good” side of town and serviced customers from both. It was the one place where all were equal because all were incognito.
Cuss was shown to a private curtained off room where he stripped and put on the hood that all clients were forced to wear. It had holes for eyes, nose, and mouth; all else was covered and all hair had to be tucked in. He was then led to the rarest of things: an indoor hot bath. He sat in the water while naked attendants washed him all over. His now-familiar-yet-still-alien cock sprang to attention like an eager puppy and pulsed as those soft hands rubbed soaped and scented cloths over him, but fortunately did not spout off, even when gentle fingers gave it its own thorough cleaning.
Once finished, he was led to the massage room, where he lay on his back on a heated padded table. The next table over, only two arms’ reach away, carried a portly man with a distinctive tattoo on his left shoulder, and Cuss smiled – this night had cost him every gold piece he had, but it had been worth it; the man he had wanted to talk to was there, just when Cuss’ contact had said he would.
Of course, he couldn’t just start chatting. As soft oiled hands began to knead his shoulders, he started to hum a familiar inn tune. He added his own lyrics as the hands moved to his chest.
“There once was a hero name King Borgas, Who ruled over Skyrim in times now long past.
He wore a crown so jagged and fine, It is still whispered of through ages of time.
But then he was silenced, was King Borgas, When the Wild Hunt proved too much for his ass.
The War of Succession was ended that day, but his body was rescued and spirited away.
The ages have passed and history has shown, that time has a way to erase what was known
It doesn’t matter who lost or who won, Because now the crown rots inside old Korvanjund.”
Cuss was glad the song ended there because the soothing hands reached his cock at that point and Cuss stopped wondering if his target had received the message because the sensation overwhelmed every other sense in his body.
He might have come right then, but the woman, as if sensing his nearness, backed away and, with a tap on his shoulder, motioned for him to turn over. He did so with trepidation - the massage had felt so good, he had nearly forgotten the reason this place was so exclusive, but now he remembered. Unfortunately, he could not back out now.
He lifted his hips and brought his knees forward and spread at her light promptings until he was splayed out, ass in the air, then braced himself. Again, she seemed to sense his concern because her voice whispered in his ear, “Relax. It will feel better. I promise, you will like it.”
Cuss tried to follow her advice, but when the warm and slick device started to push into his anus, his muscles went into survival mode and he tensed every muscle he had. The device continued inexorably inward despite his body’s best efforts, pushing against and then past his sphincter and further inside.
There was a moment of stillness where all Cuss could do was pant in growing panic, then the device began to hum and vibrate. He was caught off guard at the feeling, nearly surprised right out of being afraid. After a moment, the thing in his ass added movement; just a little back and forth, then gentle presses to the walls.
It grew warm. Not hot, just a comfortable heat that blended with the vibrations and the movement and, in moments he didn’t notice, Cuss had forgotten his fear. It was replaced by a burgeoning heat of his own and his cock sprang back to life as if beckoned. He arched his back, suddenly wanting the device to push a little harder, hum a little heavier and, as if in response to his thoughts, it obliged.
Soon he was panting like a dog in heat and, when the woman’s warm slick fingers unexpectedly wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking, he came in an instant. It was the most intense orgasm he had ever had, in this body or her other, and when it was over, seconds and lifetimes later, and the machine had pulled out of him, he collapsed onto a bench covered in his own spunk and could do nothing but breath ragged gasps for the next five minutes.
A few minutes later, as he relaxed in the tub again while attempting to reconcile this experience with…well, everything, the other man waded into the water and sat on the opposite side. There was a long silence that felt oddly like a kindred – as if they had gone through something together and come out triumphant. It was a ridiculous feeling, yet there it sat.
“That song you sang.” The man cleared his throat. “Where did you hear it?”
“I don’t remember. A Bard was playing it at one of the inns. It caught my attention because of the tune.”
The man laughed. “Yes, old King Borgas reduced to a parody of Ragnar the Red.” A pause. “I wonder if it’s true, though.”
Cuss shrugged. “I could not say. It has just been stuck in my head, and I was so relaxed from the massage, I started singing it. I apologize if it bothered you.”
“No no, it was fine. I just…if it is true…”
The man trailed off and Cuss smiled behind his hood. His mark had taken the bait. Surely he would report it to his lover. And his lover, the one and only Galmar Stone-Fist, would relay the news that the Jagged Crown had been found, and the war would once again be kicked into a high gallop.
And this time, Cuss would find a way to take full advantage.
Edited by jfraser
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