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  Rogue's Sultry Women

  The Rogue's Harem 1

  (A Fantasy Erotic Novel)

  by

  Reed James

  Copyright © 2017, 2019 by Reed James

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Published in the United States of America, 2017, 2019

  All characters depicted in this work of fiction are over the age of eighteen (18).

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  Cover Design by Amber Naralim

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  Rogue's Sultry Women

  Naughty Excerpt from “Rogue's Sultry Women”

  Stories of from The World of Erasthay

  Chapter One: Taboo Dance

  Chapter Two: Canvas Darkness

  Chapter Three: Catgirl's Hot Pussy

  Chapter Four: Realized Desires

  Chapter Five: Catgirl's Naughty Fun

  Chapter Six: Princess's Taboo Passion

  Chapter Seven: Jealous Sister

  Chapter Eight: The Princess's New Toy

  Chapter Nine: The Buxom Lass

  Chapter Ten: Sister's Naughty Dance

  Chapter Eleven: Naughty Kitty-Cat

  Chapter Twelve: Princess's Passion

  Chapter Thirteen: Frustrated Silence

  Chapter Fourteen: Pleasing His Women

  Chapter Fifteen: Lamia's Naughty Fun

  Chapter Sixteen: Patrol

  Chapter Seventeen: A Father's Lusts

  Chapter Eighteen: Hard Ride

  Chapter Nineteen: Catgirls Need Cock Too

  Chapter Twenty: Princess's Taboo Discovery

  Chapter Twenty-One: Shameful Lusts

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Humiliating Lust

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Rogue's Hot Pursuit

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Princess's Wanton Surrender

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Flight into the Woods

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Pleasing Under Pressure

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sisterly Delight

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Naughty Faerie Spying

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Seduction By Proxy

  Chapter Thirty: Pleasant Pastime

  Chapter Thirty-One: Selling the Bedmaid

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Virgin's Oral Fun

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Fairy's Naughty Fun

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Shadow's Tricks

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Fairy Play

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Faerie's Pillowy Bounty

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Precious Gift

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Fairy's Pet

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: Lust's Spell

  Chapter Forty: Baiting the Trap

  Chapter Forty-One: Soaring Over Beauty

  Chapter Forty-Two: Silky Petals

  Chapter Forty-Three: Satiating the Feyhounds

  Chapter Forty-Four: Sultry Paints

  Chapter Forty-Five: The Stocks

  Chapter Forty-Six: The Fairy's Pain

  Chapter Forty-Seven: The Lodestone

  Chapter Forty-Eight: The True Prize

  Glossary

  Naughty Excerpt from “Rogue's Sultry Women”

  “Zanyia, Master,” I answered, staring up at his handsome face, his short, blond hair reflecting firelight. He had blue eyes, so deep I could swim in them.

  “I'm not your master, Zanyia,” he said, holding out a hand to me. “You don't have to crouch like that.”

  “I like crouching,” I said, trembling, but not from being naked. Though I had as much hair adorning my body as a human female, I could tolerate colder temperatures without clothing. No, I trembled in awe. Who was this man? Why didn't he claim me? He killed my master. He freed me from Therek's brutality.

  I purred louder and then rubbed my cheek against his pants, feeling the soft caress, smelling his scent over leather and blood. My tail twitched as I showed him my submission. I stared up at him, hugging his leg.

  “Is she going to hump you here?” the girl asked. “At least help me free the slaves before you indulge your cock, brother mine.”

  “Sorry, sister dear,” he said. Then he winked at me. “That's Kora. My step-sister doesn't approve of my pleasures.” He scratched at my head between my ears.

  “You should always enjoy yourself, Master,” I said, a tingle racing down to my pussy. I rubbed my cheek harder against his thigh.

  “See, sister dear, Zanyia approves.”

  “Of you fucking every doxy who falls on your cock?” Kora asked, shaking her head.

  I stared at her, seeing the look in her eyes, the catch in her voice. It was faint, imperceptible, but I recognized what strained her words. Jealousy. Did she want her brother scratching her head? Did she ache to rub her cheek on his thigh and her hot pussy on his boot?

  Ooh, his boot felt wonderful on my hot pussy, my clit throbbing as I ground on him. My tail swished faster as the pleasure rushed through my body. This Sven needed to understand. He owned me now. I had no idea what to do with freedom. Where would I go? Back across the mountains to Zizthithana's court?

  I'd rather die than fall into the hands of any naga, let alone her.

  “I have something for you,” Sven said, pulling out the amulet my former owner had dug up outside the village where he found the slaves. “It'll look beautiful on you, sister dear.”

  He tossed it to Kora. Her cheeks went scarlet. Happiness tinged her scent, her eyes growing liquid. She looked at her step-brother with such longing, such heartache. I glanced from my new owner to his sister, my eyes widening.

  Really? Both of them? And they didn't realize what the other felt?

  And then I laughed. Zizthithana would be so wroth when she learned Warleader Therek was dead, his slaves freed, and the gift he was so eager to present to her around the neck of another. I rubbed my pussy harder on Sven's boot, purring my joy.

  To find out what happens next, read on!

  Stories of from The World of Erasthay

  The Rogue's Harem Book 1: Rogue's Sultry Women

  The Rogue's Harem Book 2: Rogue's Wicked Harem

  The Rogue's Harem Book 3: Rogue's Passionate Harem

  The Knight and the Acolyte 1: The Acolyte's Passion

  The Knight and the Acolyte 2: The Mage's Passion

  The Knight and the Acolyte 3: The Thief's Passion

  The Knight and the Acolyte 4: The Shaman's Passion

  The Knight and the Acolyte 5: The Knight's Passion

  The Triad and the Innocent Maidens

  The Triad and the Gorgon's Seduction

  The Triad and the Maiden's Passion

  The Unicorn's Mate

  The Nubile Mermaid's Courtship

  Chapter One: Taboo Dance

  Sven Falk – Despeir Foothills, Kivoneth Princedom, The Strifelands of Zeutch

  I crawled forward on my belly, the firelight reaching up from the depression below, a bright glow at odds with its dark creators: Shizhuthian slavers. They served the foul nagas of the fractured lands across the Despeir Mountains to the east. My heart thudded in my chest, h
ands eager for tonight's business. Even in the dark night, I could feel the knife-like mountains looming over us; the barrier between civilization and the tyranny of the foul nagas.

  My step-sister crept up against me, a year younger, her supple, pink robes dull in the darkness. A heat rose in me, her breasts pressing against the thin fabric, swaying with her every movement. Flickers of campfire highlighted the edges of her body, outlining her curves. A sweet scent filled the air. Her eyes reflected back at me, big and questioning.

  “It's them,” I whispered, turning my attention down to the camp, ignoring the rise of my cock. She was my sister. Not a doxy slattern dancing in a tavern.

  Slovenly disorder ruled the camp. To the north, a large tent was pitched, the cloth dark even with the light glowing from its interior. On the south side were the wagons of slaves, their Zeutchian prisoners still inside, huddled in a mass. A forest of limbs, so dirty they appeared to be gray or brown, stuck through the bars. Most were women, pleasure slaves for humans favored by their naga rulers. The rest were to be worked to death in the iron mines of Hizzithya. Three soldiers lounged by the fire, laughing as they ate their stew. Two more were on the edges, wearing their black armor, swarthy faces alert.

  “Contact her,” my sister, Kora, said, her voice fair and refined, with a melodic music that came from her training as a priestess of Rithi, Goddess of Art.

  My step-sister shouldn't be skulking through the foothills of the Despeir Mountains attacking raiders. Neither of us should. We should be back in Az, she serving in the temple, acting as a muse to artists from around the world who attended the University. While I should be lounging in taverns, carousing with my friends, drinking on my parents' largess, whoring with the companionable women, and enjoying the delights of Ava.

  Damn that bastard for stealing it all away! I could still see the fires burning, consuming our home, our parents and Katriana still inside.

  I thrust my hand into my pouch, seizing the alabaster statue. I pulled it out, setting it on my palm and holding it before my face. It stood the length of my hand from wrist to fingertip, carved in the shape of a young woman, her body slender and fair, the detail so exquisite it captured the nipples topping her small breasts and the down of her pubic hair between her thighs.

  My heart lurched. How long had it been? Months? Nearly a year.

  “Ava,” I whispered, my thick finger sliding down the cold stone statue from her neck, between her breasts, and down to her pussy. “Ava, it's Sven.”

  Life breathed into the statue. Tiny eyes blinked, lips smiling. Hips undulated, grinding a cold heat against my finger. “Sven,” the statue spoke in the light and airy voice of the princess. “Did you find them?”

  “They raided the village just like you claimed,” I answered, keeping my finger rubbing her pussy, wondering if Ava felt it in distant Echur. “How did you know?”

  The statue's face twisted. “I didn't want to believe it.”

  “Your father?” Anger burned in my voice.

  My sister gave the statue a sharp look, saying, “Your step-father is involved with these slavers, Ava?”

  “Maybe.” Ava's statue trembled. I pictured the red-gold hair of the princess quivering about her face as she sat in her bed, controlling the statue across the intervening miles. “I learned about it from him. I fear...I fear his agents want those slaves.”

  “Then he's going to be sorely disappointed,” I grinned, my hand slipping down to grasp my dagger's hilt. “We'll free them.”

  “Just you and Kora?” Ava gasped. “Against a Shizhuthian raiding party?”

  “Trust me.” I winked at the little statue. “Don't I always get away? How many times did I steal into your bower beneath your father's nose?”

  My sister stared hard at me, disapproval on her lips.

  “Many times,” Ava sighed, a fond look spilling across the statue's face. “But be careful, Sven. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I told the statue, bringing my finger to her mouth, pressing on the hard, yet somehow soft lips.

  Ava kissed my finger. Then the statue went still, the magic animating it gone.

  “Do you really love her, brother?” Kora asked, her voice tight.

  “I love all the women I bed, sister dear.” I scooped up the statue and, with care, wrapped her up in oilcloth and slipped her into my belt pouch. “They all hold a place in my heart.”

  “Even that Thlinian hussy you fucked in Cheyvn last week? The one you bent over the table and buggered while drunk.”

  “I loved every moment being in her ass. And she certainly loved my cock, sister dear.” I grinned at Kora again, my hands so sweaty. Gods, she was beautiful, golden-blonde hair glinting in the enemy firelight, falling in two braids down her back.

  “You are as disgusting as Las,” she said. “Ava deserves better.”

  I fought down the heartache. It has been a year since I saw the princess in the flesh. Since the fire. Anger clenched my jaw. “Let's liberate the slaves and ruin her father's evening.”

  “That, brother mine, is something I would relish.” Kora shivered. “I'll provide the distraction?”

  “You do it so well,” I said, slithering back from the edge of the cliff and out of sight of the sentries.

  My sister disrobed with such casual ease, exposing her body to me. Even in the darkness, with only a half-moon shining down on us, I groaned at the sight of her round breasts with upswept nipples. They stood hard before her as she slid her hands down her tattooed flesh, marking her as a Radiant of Rithi, a full priestess. It was too dark to make them out, but ink adorned her flesh, showing her skill and talents.

  Her body moved with such grace, shifting and dancing as she evoked beauty to draw upon her goddess's magic. Her hands slid down her flat stomach to her groin, dipping across shaved flesh and rubbing on that quivering treasure.

  How many women had I bed with the same golden-blonde hair? Eyes closed, pumping inside them, imagining they were my younger step-sister.

  Too many.

  It was torture watching her perform her magic. She let out a wanton sigh, her fingers sliding through the folds of her pussy and then penetrating her hot depths. I envied every man she took as a lover, as infrequent as that was these days. My leather pants were so tight. I rubbed sweaty palms on my thighs, watching her dance.

  Burning with taboo passion for her.

  I could hear her fingers sliding in and out of her flesh, that wet plunge into hot flesh. My dick twitched with each one. My sister's breasts jiggled as her head threw back, her twin braids swaying behind her. She turned as she masturbated, her curving ass facing me, painted by pale moonlight, her crack an inviting shadow.

  When I buggered that Thlinian slattern, I felt my sister's eyes on me. I wanted her to see my cock, to see my prowess, to hear how the slut moaned and gasped, her bowels clenching on my dick. I wanted my sister to know the passion I could give her.

  If I wasn't her step-brother.

  Pater's cock, she was radiant.

  Moonlight shimmered around her body as she swayed and pumped her fingers. Sparkles, tinged with auroral rainbows, glinted across her pale skin as she gathered more and more of her Goddess's magic, swirling the light around her as her fingers plunged faster and faster into her flesh.

  “Oh, Gods,” she whimpered, her voice so throaty. Her eyes looked at me over a shoulder, burning with her pleasure. “You shouldn't watch me.”

  “You're so beautiful,” I groaned, wanting to jerk my own cock.

  Her hips swayed, her ass wiggling at me as she plunged fingers into her pussy. She must be so hot, her flesh boiling around those lucky digits. Her moans grew louder and louder. Her body quivered, the light swirling about her body silvery, woven with shadows.

  And then her back arched. Her ass clenched. Rivulets of her cream ran down her thighs, squirting from her pussy as her orgasm crashed through her. My heart beat so fast. My body on fire. I wanted to seize her, to fuck her. Let vengeance be damned and the sl
aves suffer while I enjoyed my sister.

  I beat down such selfishness. She'd hate me if I tried. Those slaves needed freedom. Deserved it.

  And Prince Meinard had to pay.

  “Rithi, bless my sexual juices and let them paint with your concealing radiance,” she moaned.

  The lights and shadows swirling about her body surged down her back and sides, crossing her curving ass, and diving into her cumming pussy. Her juices glowed as they dripped from her pussy and ran down her thighs.

  She whirled, her tits heaving, and ripped her fingers from her pussy. My entire body tensed as she knelt before me, staring into my eyes. In the light of the glowing juices adorning her digits, I saw the deep blue of her irises and the pink plumpness of her lips. I wanted to kiss her.

  She painted lines of pussy juices on my face. “Conceal him, my goddess. Hide him from sight until he is ready to unveil his perfection.”

  The light rippled across my skin from the heat of her juices adorning my cheeks. She painted three on each one. I smelled her tangy musk, the delicious aroma of her forbidden pussy. I hungered for her. Those lips were so close. Her breasts, her body.

  My right hand reached out, the light rippling down my skin. In its wake, I was translucent, faded, blending in with the night. I could hardly see my own digits moving before her. I froze before grabbing her breast, remembering my purpose. Her eyes flicked down to my hand. She seized it, lifting it to her lips.

  Kissing the back of it.

  “Be safe, brother mine.”

  “I will, sister dear,” I said, my blood boiling, my cock so hard.

  And then she let go. I drew my daggers. Frustration throbbed through me as I turned and stalked on my boots, moving with all the skill I'd learned sneaking into Ava's, and other rich maid's, bedrooms. I moved through the pine trees, stepping lightly on the needle-strewn ground. I skirted around feathery ferns as I moved lower and lower, descending from the hill and wrapping around its base to the dell where the slavers made their camp.

  I went slow, careful. Whether sneaking into a mansion to claim a maiden's virtue beneath her noble father's nose or approaching a camp of armed and dangerous scum, you couldn't rush. You had to make sure every step was placed just so. No breaking twigs, no rustling of brush.