TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯by Van © 2009		_
		Chapter 2

Pilar forced an angry growl past her gag.  The second figure was Ashley, with an irritatingly smug smile on her irritatingly smug face.

The amazon mercenary's hand was on the pommel of her broadsword, but she was otherwise at ease as she faced Cricket.  "Oh, here you are, elf," Ashley chuckled.  "I was afraid you were lost and I'd have to go looking for you."

"I wouldn't be much of a guide if that were the case," Cricket giggled, "now would I?"  She gave her pole-ax another flip, then planted its butt in the dirt and struck a swashbuckling pose, hand on hip, shoulders thrown back, and dimpled chin raised.  With her petite stature and cute features she evoked Peter Pan much more than Errol Flynn, but it was clear she was comfortable with her weapon, her surroundings, and the present company.  "Connie finally got the seat adjusted?" she asked.

Still smiling, Ashley was walking towards Pilar.  "Yes," she confirmed.  "She'll have no trouble reaching the pedals on the drive to Foxwood."  She focused on Pilar.  "Well, whore-dancer," she said, "none the worse for wear I see—Oof!"

As soon as her captor was within range, Pilar had delivered a graceful but businesslike kick between the surprised sword-maiden's legs!

Ashley staggered back, tripped on her feet, and sprawled on her backside in a tangle of satchel, bedroll, water-skin, and sword.  Her hands were clutching her crotch, and she was gasping—no, laughing!  Apparently, the kick hadn't been all that businesslike after all.

Her eyes wide, Cricket covered her mouth with her free hand and giggled.

"Oh, Pillie!" Ashley gasped, rolling in the dirt and struggling to extricate herself from the tangled straps of her equipment.  "You should've seen your face!  You really thought I was gonna leave you out here!"  She climbed to her feet and brushed the dirt from her backside, still laughing.  She turned to Cricket and pointed at Pilar, shaking her finger for emphasis.  "Now that was a Damsel-in-Distress!"

Cricket was still giggling, but Pilar glared at her captor with Proud Contempt.  It was difficult to pull off, being virtually naked, bound in an inescapable box-tie, tightly gagged, and smudged with dirt from head to toe, but she managed.

Ashley stepped forward, embraced the pouting prisoner, and delivered a kiss to her glistening, grimy forehead.  "Okay, we're even," she whispered.  "You forgive me?"

Pilar shook her shoulders and huffed through her gag, but she couldn't disguise the sparkle in her eyes.

"Your v'jayjay okay?" Cricket asked.

"My what?" Ashley chuckled.

"Your hoo-haw, your wiener-warmer, your k'floppis, your—"

"Okay, okay, I'm fine," Ashley laughed.

"I can check it for you," Cricket offered, with a coy grin.

Ashley smiled at the saucy elf.  "Maybe later," she purred.  "Get your stuff."

Cricket walked back into the rhododendrons and quickly returned with a satchel, water skin, and bedroll similar to Ashley's, as well as a short, recurved bow and a quiver of arrows.  She slung her equipment, gave it a shake to settle the load, and stepped onto the trail.

Meanwhile, Ashley had re-slung her own load and had retrieved the end of Pilar's hemp leash.

Pilar sighed and turned to face the trail, ready for the seven mile hike to Foxwood—and suddenly her leash snapped taut and she was tugged in the opposite direction.  She spun on her sandaled heels and stared at Ashley in surprise.

Their elf guide was already several yards down the trail.  She paused and turned, leaning on her pole-ax/walking stick.  "Problem?"

"No problem," Ashley answered, and gave Pilar's leash another tug.  "Move it, Twinkle-Toes," she huffed, and started after Cricket.

Pilar had no choice but to follow.  The long way! she realized.  They're going to drag me the long way!  That's twelve miles!  She forced a questioning whine past her gag.  "Mrmfh?"

"She's not very obedient, is she?" Cricket giggled.

"Not my problem," Ashley growled.  "I just catch 'em.  It's not my job to train 'em."

Pilar sighed and trudged after her captors.  Good thing these sandals really are broken in, she thought.

Meanwhile, back at Foxwood...

---

It was a beautiful day.  Hannah and Alice were out by the pond, on the Foxwood side, opposite the willow.  They were on their backs on the soft grass, side by side, naked, wet from their recent swim, and basking under the cloudless, cerulean sky.  A dozen or more swallows swooped and fluttered overhead, catching insects to feed the perpetually hungry hatchlings waiting in the nests tucked under the eaves of Foxwood's towers.

Alice wasn't quite naked.  A thrall's collar was locked around her throat.  This was doubly appropriate, as it fit her role in the current scenario and it was her turn in the monthly rotation as Kayley's helper.

Hannah, however, was totally naked.  Her collar was absent, as it was not appropriate for her role in this, her first orange banner drama.

"I could stay here forever," Alice sighed.

"Me too," Hannah agreed.

Just then, there was a rattling noise... the sunbathers lifted their heads... and watched Sydney emerge from one of the trails.  She was wearing a skimpy, skin-baring variant of her Evil Baroness costume: slipper boots, a short leather kilt, a vest-like jerkin, and a baggy linen shirt with the sleeves rolled all the way up and tied at her shoulders with fluttering ribbons.  A sheathed longsword was slung behind her back and buckled tight to her waist and torso to keep it from flopping around—and—totally at odds with her otherwise "medieval" appearance—she was riding a modern trail bike.  She pedaled to the sunbathers and skidded to a halt.

Shading her eyes with one hand, Hannah went up on her other elbow and smiled at her girlfriend.  "You made good time," she observed.  "Everything on track?"

"As far as I know," Sydney panted.  Her nostrils flared and her bosom was heaving.  The bike had saddlebags, front and back, but they were empty, their former contents having been delivered to a location many miles distant.

Hannah's eyes were on Sydney's bare, freckled legs, and the sweat glistening on the Baroness's throat, chest, and the tops of her breasts, where they peeked from the top of the loosened jerkin and airy blouse.

"What has Jillie told you about sunscreen," Sydney huffed, shifting her glaze to her young cousin.

Alice stretched and smiled up at Sydney.  "Hannah was kind enough to anoint my wiggling body," she cooed.  "I wiggled, 'cause it tickled."

"Cricket being otherwise occupied," Hannah explained, "it was the least I could do."

"And I oiled up Hannah, too," Alice continued.  "We gave each other several coats, and really took our time... writhing on the grass... our slippery hands gliding over each other's smooth, naked bodies..."

Hannah smiled.  "You aren't jealous... are you?"

"Hah!" Sydney scoffed.  "The Stone Tower?"

"Ready," Hannah replied, "both the cells and the new 'Pleasure Rack' in the noble suite on the West side."

"The new chain hoists above the stage?"

"Ready last week.  Everything's ready," Hannah chuckled.  "We wouldn't be out here, otherwise."

Sydney climbed off the bike and eased it onto its side in the grass.  "Take that back to the Mews," she told Alice, then focused on Hannah.  "And as for you and your wandering hands..."

Hannah lay back down on the grass and smiled up at the Evil Baroness.  "I thought you said you weren't jealous?"

Sydney smiled, reached into her belt-purse, and pulled out a coiled hank of thin cord.

"What are you going to do?" Hannah gasped, batting her eyes in Innocent Surprise.

"As if you don't know," Alice chuckled as she climbing to her feet.

Sydney pounced, rolling Hannah onto her stomach and pulling her hands behind her back.

"Unhand me, you Cymric weasel!" Hannah complained as she kicked and squirmed.  (Strangely, her vigorous efforts to avoid capture were totally ineffective.)  "You have no right to do this!"

Sydney was binding Hannah's wrists together, with her hands back-to-back and the palms out.  She lashed her thumbs and little fingers, as well.  "Other than my right as Baroness?" Sydney chuckled.  She snaked a single, figure-eight loop of cord around Hannah's shoulders, threaded the free end back through the wrist bonds, and pulled.

"Ow!" Hannah complained.  Her wrists were now lashed against her shoulder blades, leaving her elbows bent and her hands locked in an awkward and totally useless position.

"Big baby," Sydney admonished, then focused on Alice, who had lifted the bike and turned it towards the service road that led to the back of the Outer Mews.  "The right rear saddlebag, side pocket."

Keeping the bike upright with one hand, Alice opened the pocket in question and pulled out several additional coils of thin cord.  "How much of this do you want?" she inquired.

"All of it, silly," Sydney chuckled.

Alice sighed, then tossed the bundled coils to The Evil Baroness (but the Princess's eyes were smiling).

"Come back when you've put away the bike," Sydney ordered.  "I have a message for you to deliver to Mistress Kayley."

"Yes, Your Magnificence," Alice acknowledged, with a dainty (naked) curtsy and an irreverent smirk.  She climbed on the bike and pushed off, her damp, copper-red curls fluttering as she pedaled away.  "Weee!"

Hannah had rolled over, heaved herself up, and was sitting on her naked rump, watching Sydney bind her ankles.  "You're in a perfidious mood," she noted.

"Perfidious?" Sydney chuckled. She had used the long length of the ankle cord to lash the soles of Hannah's feet together, as well, and was using the last of the free ends to bind her big toes.  "I think you've been hanging around Connie too much.  Has she been giving you vocabulary lessons?"

"It's not exactly a final round word," Hannah purred.  "Perfidious—adjective—to act in the manner of a cruel, sadistic harpy.  Used in a sentence: Sydney Foxwood is cute, but she's totally perfidious."

Sydney smiled, tossed the remaining cord next to Hannah and Alice's scattered clothes, and straddled Hannah's waist.  "Harpy, huh?  I think you have been hanging around Connie too much."  She eased her prisoner back onto the grass, leaned close, and kissed her lips.  She was careful not to press her weight against the captive's upper body, as the manner in which she had bound Hannah's wrists, thumbs, and fingers would have caused her pain.  They came up for air and Sydney took the ends of Hannah's braids in her hands and gave them a gentle tug.  "Did you do these?" she asked.

"Yeah," Hannah answered.  Since arriving at Foxwood, she'd become quite adept at braiding her now very long hair, a skill that had eluded her, before.

"I like the way you left the first part loose, almost like French braids, and then made the rest nice and tight," Sydney said, fingering the tightly wrapped inch or so of leather thongs midway down the braids that enforced the arrangement.  A second pair of wrapped thongs kept the ends of the braids from unraveling.

"Connie's idea," Hannah whispered, smiling up at her captor (and lover).  "Authentic Saxon braids, she calls them, although I have no idea how she knows they're actually 'authentic'."

"Whatever," Sydney chuckled.  She sat up, reached under her kilt, and began loosening her loincloth.  Like the "medieval undies" all the Foxwood residents usually wore under their costumes, it was a long, thin strip of soft, coarsely woven, natural linen.  "The middle is kinda damp," Sydney purred, "as you can see."

Hannah watched as Sydney tied a loose overhand knot in the center of the strip.  That portion of the cloth did appear to be a little wet.

"It's a strenuous trip all the way out to the Waterfall Campsite and back," Sydney explained, "so I got kinda sweaty.  Also, several long stretches of the trail are rough, when you're on a bike.  Not dangerous, but things get to rattling and the ride gets... interesting."

"You mean the bike seat becomes your new best friend?" Hannah purred, with a grin.  Her eyes were on the cloth.  She knew what was coming.  (The swallows still fly-catching overhead probably knew what was coming.)

Sydney touched the warm, damp knot to Hannah's lips, she opened her mouth, and the knot was pressed home, into her mouth and between her teeth.  The Evil Baroness cinched the cloth behind the Saxon Prisoner's neck, paused to free her braids, then tugged it tight.  The cinch became a square-knot, and Hannah had a cleave-gag, stringent enough to make her cheeks bulge.

Hannah rolled onto her side and watched as Sydney began unbuckling her sword belt.  The Red-haired Warrior wrapped the belt around the hilt and sheath and lay it in the grass, then unlaced and removed her jerkin, kilt, blouse, and boots.  Finally, as naked as Hannah herself (not counting her bonds and gag), Sydney reached for the heavens in a back-arching, spine-popping stretch.

"Arrrgh!" Sydney sighed.  She finished her stretch and smiled down at her prisoner.  "A swim is a good idea," she purred, as she stooped and picked up an additional length of cord.  "But first, I have to make sure you aren't a naughty girl.  We wouldn't want you to play with my sword while I'm in the water, would we?"

Hannah lay on her side and watched her girlfriend float in the still water.  The freckled, naked redhead was on her back, with her arms spread and her red curls fanned and floating behind her head.  Beautiful, Hannah though, evil, cruel, and beautiful.  Before diving from the dock, Sydney had used the cord to give Hannah a tight, single-strand crotch binding.  It cleaved her sex and her butt-crack, and also linked her already bound big toes to the ends of her braids, enforcing a stringent hogtie.  Playing with her captor's sword (meaning trying to use it to free herself) was now totally out of the question.  Okay, it still might have been possible, with a great deal of time and painful effort, to wiggle over and eventually unwrap the sword belt from around the hilt, then slide at least part of the blade from the sheath and saw through her bonds.  It might have been possible, but only if her captor decided to swim for, say, several hours, all the while ignoring her pathetic escape attempt.

Besides, escaping would ruin the game.  Gone were Hannah's concerns about being perceived as a "weak subbie".  Everyone in the Foxwood family knew of her propensity for the Damsel-in-Distress role, and they all shared it, to some degree.  Even Sydney had her submissive side, although Hannah's girlfriend was much more comfortable being on top (like now).  Jillian was the exception.  Beautiful, regal Jillian was always on top and in charge, as Foxwood's unquestioned (and beloved) leader, and especially on the rare occasions when the Evil Tyrant version of Lady Foxwood came out to play.  Jillian Foxwood was never on the bottom.

Hannah shifted her gaze towards the trail from the service road.  Alice, still naked except for her collar, of course, was returning.  Her tousled and by this time thoroughly sun dried hair fluttered in the gentle breeze as she sauntered to Hannah's side.

Alice smiled down, coyly cocking her head to the side.  "Poor Saxon," she cooed, "all helpless and naked.  I bet the Baroness is gonna leave you like that all day.  Good thing I did rub all that sunblock on you, isn't it?"

Sydney had paddled to the dock, heaved herself from the water, and was walking towards her cousin and helpless girlfriend.  "Did you wash the tires and oil the chain before you put it on the rack?" she asked as she came near.

"No, I didn't wash the tires and oil the chain," Alice chuckled.  "It's your damn bike."  Her smile faded as she watched Sydney stoop and pick up the two remaining coils of cord.  "Uh... I gotta get back to work," she said.  "What did you want me to tell Kay-bear?"

"All in good time," Sydney purred, as she stepped between Alice and the main building.

"No, no way," Alice said, shaking her head.  Her eyes were on the cord.

"Yes, way," Sydney chuckled, and made a grab for Alice's right hand.

"No!" Alice shrieked, danced a step back, spun on her heels, and ran away.  "Help!  Somebody help me!" she screamed.

Sydney was in hot pursuit.  Hannah watched as the naked cousins sprinted towards the trail that skirted the pond, led to the willow clearing, and continued up the forested hill, beyond.

"Heeelp!" Alice continued to wail.

Al's gonna try and lose her in the trees, Hannah thought, then double back and make for the kitchen—and Kayley's protection.  Fat chance.  She sighed and closed her eyes.  Alice continued to scream for help, although who, exactly, she thought was going to provide said help wasn't at all clear.  This was Foxwood.  If anyone responded to her Piteous Pleas, they probably would help—the Evil Baroness.  Hannah basked in the sun (and her bonds).  Alice's faint, distant shrieks, now from somewhere beyond the willow, could still be heard.

God I love this place, Hannah mused.

"Let me go," Alice complained.

Hannah opened her eyes.  Did I doze off? she wondered.  Sydney was returning, with Alice slung over her right shoulder in a fireman's carry.  The Princess appeared to be bound in an identical manner to Hannah, with the exception of the crotch-cord and toes-to-braids hogtie.  She wiggled and thrashed, but was giving her captor little difficulty.  The diminutive redhead wasn't much of a burden, but then, the Evil Baroness wasn't any bigger.  Syd's so strong for her size, Hannah thought, her eyes on her girlfriend's grinning features (and naked rest-of-her).  Strong in every way.

"I've got work to do," Alice whined.  "Kayley's gonna tan your hide if you make me late for supper-prep.  Ow!"

Sydney had smacked the captive's naked rump.  "Settle down," she ordered, then set Alice on her bound feet.

Alice teetered and found her balance, then hopped in a quarter-circle to face her captor and Hannah.  This allowed Hannah to confirm that her fellow prisoner's wrists, little fingers, and thumbs were bound in the same awkward reverse-prayer as her own bonds.  However, instead of a cord yoking her shoulders and pinning the bondage to her upper back, a short run linked Alice's wrists to the back staple of her iron thrall's collar.

Her freckled features in a piteous pout, Alice groused at her naked captor.  "It'll be your fault this time, Sydney.  Jillian will punish you, not me."

Sydney was rolling up Alice's thrall's costume, a ragged burlap shift and a pair of sandals, and using one end of the rope belt to tie it in a bundle.  She had held back Alice's loincloth, and was now tying an overhand knot in its center, converting it into another knotted cleave-gag.

"You really are a bitch, you know that?" Alice huffed, but offered no resistance as the knot was shoved in her mouth, cinched tight enough to make her cheeks bulge, and knotted at the nape of her neck, under her tousled curls.

"I do my best," Sydney purred, then picked up Alices's bundled costume, looped the rope belt around her wrist bonds, and tied a quick knot.  She'd left enough slack so the bundle dangled to the level of Alice's naked rump.  "Now," Sydney said, "please tell Kayley that I'll be putting the Saxon to bed early, so she can get into the spirit of her role."

"Mrmfh?" Alice and Hannah "asked", in unison.

"Hop along, Princess," Sydney chuckled, and gave Alice's rump another smack.

"Mrf!" Alice complained, heaved a sad sigh, and started hopping the considerable distance to the Keep's kitchen door.  With her ankles, insteps, and big toes bound, she had to take her time, pausing between hops to maintain her balance.  The fact that her bundled costume was swinging and bouncing against her rump with every hop didn't help matters.

"I really am a bitch, aren't I?" Sydney whispered under her breath, then smiled down at Hannah.  "Look at the way her tits bounce and her hair flops with every hop.  How she's going to open the door, when she finally gets there, I have no idea; but I'm sure Kay-bear will eventually notice her weak, pathetic efforts."

Hannah glared and directed a gagged growl in her gloating girlfriend's direction.

Sydney laughed, knelt, and untied the cord enforcing Hannah's hogtie.

Hannah straightened her legs, then growled again when Sydney rolled her onto her back and straddled her waist.

"Yes, that's right," Sydney said, reaching out and cupping Hannah's breasts.  "I know your part doesn't really start until just before our guests arrive, tomorrow, but Jillie and I decided you'd get into the spirit of things better if I chained you in the tower for the night.  You know, method acting and all that."

Hannah sighed, and tried to ignore Sydney's gentle kneading of her boobilage.  She could feel her nipples pop to attention, but then, the little gals always did have minds of their own, reacting to Syd's touch even when Hannah was doing her best to maintain a façade of Righteous Disdain.

"But there's no need to rush things, is there?" Sydney continued.  She reversed position, pried Hannah's thighs apart, to the limit of the Saxon Maiden's ankle bonds, and planted her lips on Hannah's sex.

Hannah shivered and arched her back, both to protect her bound hands and in reaction to Sydney's sucking lips and sliding tongue.

This is so unfair, Hannah thought, so arbitrary and cruel, so... Foxwood.

Wilderness  Woes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{ & }~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late Afternoon~ The Deep Forest~ Miles From Anywhere~

---

Pilar trudged in her kidnapper's wake.  Their guide was setting a quick pace, but it hadn't been too bad.  There'd been hourly rest breaks, and each time the sword-maiden had loosened her gag long enough to give her a gulp of water.  She very much suspected this wasn't to alleviate her suffering but to maintain her value as "merchandise".  Pilar sighed through her gag.  Slavery was ubiquitous among the peoples and races of the Borderlands, but it was a fate she'd always hoped to avoid.  The life of a Courtesan Dancer was hard enough, with the constant travel and having to avoid the rude hands of the locals (but without causing offense and damaging the take).  Temple dancing or a position at a tavern or some noble's feasting hall were options, but she preferred to drift from caravan to caravan as a member of the loose cadre of performers that always accompanied merchants and pilgrims.

Pilar was always careful.  Friendly and courteous to all (without being too friendly), she was always careful to do her share of the drudgery and to tithe the troupe's musicians.  Only a fool wanted to gain a reputation for burdening her fellow performers and acting above her station.  Divas sometimes found themselves alone in the wild, or collared and chained at the rear of a slave coffle.  Pilar always did her best to fit in... and she was careful.

But she'd been captured, nonetheless.

One night, well after the fires had burned low and all but the night watch were abed—she had appeared.

Pilar was alone in her tent.  She had just removed her dancing costume and jewelry.  Okay, her "jewelry" was nothing more than gaudy trinkets worth next to nothing, but they flashed in the firelight and tinkled as she danced, enhancing her act.  Anyway, wearing only her loincloth, she was about to remove her sandals—when she was grabbed from behind, gagged before she could scream, bound hand and foot, and carried through a slit in the back of her tent and into the night!

Why?  Pilar had no idea.  Okay, she was a dancer and was easy on the eyes, and she wouldn't be difficult to trade for a few coins at a slaver's compound or some isolated castle, but her captor had taken a terrible risk in violating the Truce of Encampment.  If the guards had caught her, she'd have been stripped, bound to a tree, and left for the wolves when the caravan moved on—or (possibly more likely), she'd have been sold into slavery, herself.

In any case, the female sell-sword hadn't been caught, and she'd never explained why she'd selected Pilar as a target—nor had she explained anything else, on the occasions when she removed Pilar's gag.  They'd been on the move for days, to the point that Pilar was nearing the point of exhaustion.  Being a dancer, she was in good shape, but being dragged through the forest bound, gagged, and nearly naked took its toll.

And then they'd rendezvoused with a Wood-Elf guide!  The devilishly cute little fey—Wood-Elves were notoriously cute, and they made delightful dancers—seemed amused by Pilar's captivity and made no move to rescue her, and why should she?  What was the way one Human treated another to a Wood-Elf?  As far as the elf was concerned, Pilar was the sword-maiden's livestock.

Pilar knew they were somewhere in the Deep Forest, north of the Great Desert but well south of the Hyborean Wastes, but she'd never been in these reaches before.  She suspected they were nearing their final destination, whatever it was, but neither her captor nor the guide had discussed their goal—not in her presence, anyway.

The shadows were very long when they finally stopped for the day.  The trail led across a creek fed by a waterfall that splashed its way through the mossy boulders of a steep, forested hillside.  They crossed by means of a rude bridge of logs and planks, and then turned off the trail.  Nestled against the hillside was a shallow cave, little more than a sheltering hollow, but it would keep them dry in the unlikely event of rain.

The end of Pilar's rope leash was knotted around a convenient tree branch.  This left plenty of slack for her to sit on a nearby boulder with a flat top.  It felt good to be off her feet and able to rest.  The sword-maiden and Wood Elf were shucking their satchels and bedrolls and making camp.  Pilar noticed a wooden post sunk into the mossy soil on the opposite side of the cave.  Carved into the post was a fox leaping over an oak leaf and surrounded by a ring of stars.  Underneath was a single word, "Adon", Elvish for "Peace".  In any language, this admonishment to respect the Truce of Encampment always adorned caravansary markers.

This was a common shelter, maintained by the local authority for travelers.  Apparently, in this case, that also meant the provision of a limited store of food and other supplies.  The elf lifted a canvas tarp from a wooden chest and pulled out several cloth-wrapped packets, an iron pot with a lid, and a large, wicker-covered bottle of what was probably the local wine.  The travelers were honor-bound to compensate their benefactors with coin or merchandise, but that certainly wasn't Pilar's concern... unless she was the merchandise in question; but that was highly unlikely.  A prime female slave (and Pilar knew she was "prime") was worth a lot more than the makings of a meal and the use of a cave for one night.

"My fellow elves have provided," their fey guide explained, with a graceful gesture, then smiled at the mercenary.  "If you fill our water-skins, I'll start a fire and prepare our meal."  She nodded towards Pilar, then pointed to the waterfall.  "And maybe you can clean your catch."

"I have better things to do than scrub the trail dirt off a dancing whore," the Warrior-Maid chuckled.

"I'll do it," the elf offered, with a giggle.  "I've never had a chance to sample a Desert Nomad female."

The warrior-maid shrugged.  "Whatever, as long as you don't untie her."

"I wouldn't think of it," the elf giggled, batting her eyes at the captive.

'Sample'? Pilar wondered.  Well... at least I'll get clean.  That'll be good.  And it's not like I've never been 'sampled' before.

Mercenary Musings
~~~~~~~~~~~~{ & }~~~~~~~~~~~~

---

Ashley lay back against her bedroll and sipped a cup of wine as she watched the show at the waterfall.  The little elf had removed her skimpy clothing, the dancer's loincloth and sandals, and was with the bound and gagged captive under the waterfall, scrubbing her body—scrubbing both their bodies—with her hands.  The prisoner seemed to be enjoying the cool water... or maybe it was the way the elf was rubbing her glistening, well-tanned skin.  The dancer shook her head and her dark, wet hair fanned and scattered countless droplets of clear water.  They caught the last direct rays of the sun, forming a flash of a rainbow.

She's certainly a beauty, Ashley mused.  Her Ladyship might pay me extra for this one.  What the Mistress of Foxwood intended to do with her new acquisition Ashley had no idea.  She probably already had noble buyers lined up, all of whom would have their own plans for a quality tidbit like the dancer.  It was a pity Ashley couldn't discover who they were and deal directly, but such clients would probably sneer at a Borderlands sell-sword like herself, if she tried.

Their supper, some sort of savory stew, was simmering over the coals of the campfire.  A fresh loaf of bread, wrapped in a cloth, was warming on the ring of stones.

Ashley smiled.  The dancer was moaning and writhing under the splashing water.  The elf-maid had one arm around her taller captive's waist and was sliding her hands between the dancer's legs, caressing her sex and thighs.  The wet, pale scamp was also licking and lightly nibbling on the captive's erect nipples, and smiling up into the prisoner's gagged face.  Bathing was no longer the issue.  Both were as clean as they were going to get, without soap.  The elf was intent on the "sampling" portion of her agenda, and it was clear the dancer was not entirely opposed to her efforts.

Life is good, Ashley thought, lifting the pot's lid and stirring the bubbling stew with a whittled stick.  I may die in battle, tomorrow... but tonight... life is good.