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I like to think she's dubious about the title, it was one of those that the more I tried to find a good font for it, the less I liked the damn thing as a whole. Then I just cut it back to 'Huntsman'. Like Batman, only... not at all.
That said, it published in the sort of speed to imply the Bats was behind it. It passed review in under an hour was up on Amazon quicker than B&N, and that never happens. Between that and Deity of the Desert vol.3 and Darkfall publishing before vol.1 on iTunes, I'm wondering if someone in the review stage likes my work and has seen it enough to just move it along. I don't know, it sounds silly but I really wonder what sort of process books go through in the 'review' stage, especially erotica. Is there a bunch of private cubicles where people with their own "massage" toys "scrutinize" every submission?
Anyway. This tale goes back to some good, old fashioned high fantasy setting, in a frozen north. One thing I wanted to do with this story, but only lightly so it's not off-putting, was link it back to other books I've written. From the start, there's reference to creatures previously only touched on in Daemonique in a foreboding but off-handed sense. The Blackguard Hounds weren't present on the Isle, but they are in the Northlands.
It doesn't impede on story, the Northlands are leagues away from the island over tall mountains and kingdom borders. At the same hand, the Zo'qeth desert from Deity of the Desert is an indeterminate distance off to the east. Perhaps on another continent even, I haven't decided, but the point is I get to weave and knit these worlds together into one cohesive fantasy realm that people can enjoy expansion of lore, life and consequence within it. I think that's pretty cool.
As for the story itself, it's a bit of a two-part thing and pretty vanilla or sweet compared to some of what I do. The initial part has some Dark Elf maid action in the background that I'm already working on building in The Lusty Dark Elf Maid, Argonians need not apply. The latter half is a private affair between a very special couple, with the young lady getting caught in one of the Huntsman's binding traps, a humiliating start to an otherwise heated night of love.
Excerpt follows the pagebreak:
* * * *
Elsewhere in the hall, a less quick-footed elf was earning a
sort of induction, something all went through to understand that going unseen
and being quick about their service was as much for their own good. Up off her
feet, the girl laid over a man’s lap in a secluded corner booth with her hair
balled in a sturdy fist and her uniform hiked up around her waist.
His other hand was full of her plump, ebony rear, kneading
the squirming cheeks before letting go to deliver a firm swing of a smack that
made the girl lurch over his lap and squeal as the table burst into raucous
laughter. The girls legs curled up as she squirmed and whined, earning another
hard smack to the other cheek, making her legs bolt out stiffly before dropping
limp.
From deeper into the alcove couch of a table, another man
who’d already secured a serving girl to bounce in his lap lowered her down to
face the new girl who’d stared a little too long at her companion’s act of
service. With both heads lowered, they were encouraged to kiss and twine their
hanging tongues for the men’s entertainment, locking lips and slurping messily
on one another’s moans as cock and hand thrust them into one another
encouragingly.
“Madness, I’d say.” Mikhael grunted, turning back to his
food from the illicit corner. Another firm crack of a spank sounded across the
room, followed quickly by a quivering wail of a moan. The Knight-Commander
chuckled and waved a hand dismissively.
“Fight hard and play harder, eh? Aside, truth but many of
the girls seek occupation exactly for that reason.” He offered, gesturing over
to the girl laying limp in the man’s lap with his hand roughly fingering her
glistening sex while she locked lips with her sister in service.
“Truth, they enjoy such humiliation?” The Huntsman asked, a
tone of perplexity about his voice as he looked back to his companion with a
raised brow. The man’s tone was perfectly calm and serious in response, smiling
and glancing to a passing maid.
“Truth. As I hear it their men are as frail as they, and ah…
not so endowed, shall we say. Now, that is only what I have heard! Straight
from the drooling mouth of a girl who could barely form coherent words, true, but
you know what they say.” He explained, a wicked grin about his angular face
that said he was done with the serious tone. Mikhael would play along as he
always did, but prepared for the worst of jokes. “Well, what do they say?”
“In mead, clarity. In battle, peace.” He intoned, striking
his chest. Mikhael knew the mantra as well as any and simply nodded. “In sex,
truth.” He finished, a perfectly steady and believing tone. The Huntsman
blustered a quick snort of a laugh and drowned the thought in mead from his
mug.
“I was inclined to believe the girl’s flattering depiction
of my talent and size, if I do say so. Having spoken to other maids since, it
holds true enough that she was being honest. Some are even half-blooded kin
sired by our fathers that would rip their own men apart. So there you have it.
It’s only encouraged among officers, all the same. The lower ranks, well, there
aren’t enough of elven kind in the land to satisfy whole garrisons.” The
Knight-Commander explained, weighing up both hands and laughing at the thought.
Truly, if such a thing happened outside of the Officer
halls, the serving girls would become little more than fleshy objects passed
around amongst a crowd for entertainment and pleasure and never have time to
tend their work. Catching the attentions of an officer was one thing, one that
may even result in strong children and security as the officer’s favoured pet.
Being smothered and buried under a seemingly endless procession of soldiers to
serve was entirely another.
“Pah, perhaps. She does look to be enjoying her
‘capturing’, I’ll admit.” Mikhael gave, glancing back to the girl now sat
upright in the man’s arms with one of her own around his neck for support. With
the elf’s breasts exposed, her pitch-black nipples twisted and stretched
between his rough and bold fingers. While the bloom of her serving dress hid
most of the detail, it was clear enough her lowered hand was working more of
that ‘service’ in his trousers. The elder serving woman watched intently,
cuddled and cradled in the other man’s lap deeper into the alcove. It almost
seemed as much they were all training the new girl as an induction.
“Well, honour to them. Might as I may favour the relief, I’ve
no mind to seek the maidservants for it.” Mikhael replied. Done with the meal
and mead, he had business to be attending, and gathered his fur cloak up from
aside him.
“Oh, sights set a little higher, eh? Perhaps to seek Her
Majesty’s hand, eh?” The Knight-Commander joked, making Mikhael pause in his
leaving to glace at the old friend and shake his head.
“Honestly, Her Majesty was akin to our mothers in the day.
She ages well but I am no fool to seek that.” He retorted, slinging the layer
around his shoulders tugging it in close to latch the collar into place and
billow out the sides so it sat properly before taking his leave.
Not three steps after turning, a figure bumped into his
side on unsteady legs. A quick arm stopped her falling and losing her tray, holding
the long-eared serving girl up against him. He could feel her tense in his
grasp, quivering slightly with expectation. Had she intentionally done such a
thing to make herself known? No, the glisten in her eyes was genuine enough as
he straightened her and cupped her cheek to bring her timid gaze up.
“Easy, now, head high. You do good work, so steady your
legs.” His words came in a deep, low tone that she could hear perfectly well over
the clamour around them. It seemed to reverberate through her body with that
depth, but ten paces distant, the sound would have struck silent.
Mikhael patted the girl’s cheek gently and stepped aside to
give her space before passing, leaving the bewildered maid to stare after his
heavy shadow. The Knight-Commander, Ranvald Berntsen snickered from his table,
sloshing the shallow remnant of his mead in the bottom of its mug as he waved
the girl over.
‘Charm the girls like
that and they won’t care if you don’t make the first move, Huntsman.’ Ranvald
thought to himself, nodding to the girl as she took the tall mug away. ‘There’s always the princess to set your
sight on.’ his thought continued, trailing off to nothings.
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