Elven Mage's Submissive Passion Read online

  Dëshoma took my other arm. “And the church where mine family dwelt.”

  “One of the biggest cities in the world,” said Twist. “Only one bigger would be the central capital of the Inferius Empire itself. Course, never seen that. But I've been to Liberus, Rhezolhes, and Ghébchal. Like Liberus the best.”

  “Plenty of objects for thy loose morals to seize?” Dëshoma asked.

  Twist winked her blue, reptilian eye at the angelborn. “Well, I got business to take care of. Marcus, 'careful where you stick your cock.”

  “Don't want me to hurt it and deny you the pleasure of it later?” I asked her, grinning at the Thief as she stalked off towards an alley.

  “Exactly.”

  “And I have to see some associates,” Haîcze said. “I'll meet up with you in an hour or so to hand over your share of the loot, Marcus.” My sylph pressed in and gave me a quick, airy kiss. “Maria, if you keep your mouth open, who knows what might slip in.”

  Maria slammed her jaw shut. “It's so tall.”

  I glanced to the cathedral that rose over the other buildings, a vast spire that rose to a golden globe that sparkled in the sun. The world whole. That was what the Gods of Light and Order, like Ëshuxeri, whom Dëshoma served, wanted. They had shattered it, at the request of their Hierophant, a hundred years ago because of the evil of the Inferius Empire.

  Now it had to be put back together again.

  “Where do we even start?” Maria asked, looking around the bustling street.

  “Indeed,” Dëshoma asked, still holding tight to my arm.

  “There are markets that possess goods of passing quality in that direction,” said Kulri. Not surprising, the elf wasn't perturbed, even with her nipples exposed. “We can peruse the shops while we wait for Haîcze to finish her commerce.”

  “Well spoken, Lady Kulrigiizhai,” Dëshoma said. “And, perhaps, we shall find a spice-monger, greengrocer, or butcher to procure the ingredients our noble cook has so graciously entrusted to me to locate.”

  Maria nodded in agreement, relaxing her grip somewhat on my arm.

  We pushed into the crowd. I wondered where Twist went to. Unlike the others in the party, she didn't seem to have much motivation for adventuring beyond getting rich. It was suitably appropriate for a Thief, but the way she immediately wanted to head off alone was disconcerting. To recruit her into my harem, I would have to figure out the truth of her quest.

  And Kulri... The elf was holding back her reasons for adventuring save she was looking for the Black Heart Diamond. She refused to say more without me promising to allow her to pursue her mission. Without knowing what it was, I was loath to agree. She was a cold person at heart. She melted when you ordered her around in sex, revealing a masochistic side that craved domination and humiliation, but outside of that, she had hardly any emotions.

  Until I knew her reason, she would never be fully mine.

  “Look at these dresses,” Maria gasped and broke away from me. She darted to the racks of dresses. They were like the clothing the women wore. I looked around at the normal citizens. It was a mix of men and women. They were all handsome or beautiful, the women wearing low-cut dresses that showed off their bosoms. They weren't all buxom, but they all were lovely. They had various styles, some dresses were like corsets, others like a Bavarian milkmaid. Some wore theirs so unlaced their tits were almost hanging out. The skirts varied in length, but none were as long as they should be in real medieval times. Legs flashed in stockings or boots of various heights. Others wore heels. Some had their skirts falling open to display their panties.

  None appeared the same. I spotted a hundred different women, all gorgeous. Would the game be like this, or would you see the same hundred human women over and over again?

  “Kulri, this would look amazing on your figure,” Maria said.

  “Yes, you would look quite fetching in this, Lady Kulrigiizhai,” added Dëshoma.

  I glanced over to see the three women browsing the dresses. Even Kulri stared in interest. She took the dress and held it to her. It would lift her large breasts into a pair of large mounds. My brow knitted. Would they buy it?

  It seemed like a waste of money. They should get adventuring equipment. We were Level 10. Had unlocked our new classes. Surely there was better gear for us to wear. I tapped my new ax that I'd gained after defeating Feverblight and his cultists. I needed armor to match it. A better shield.

  “Look, look!” Iris gasped. “This would look so sexy on you Dëshoma!”

  The pixie was buzzing around a silk negligee, the fabric pink.

  “Mine body would be on full and wanton display in such a garment,” gasped Lady Dëshoma. “That fabric is as sheer as a window.”

  “Mmm, I bet Marcus would love you in it,” the pixie said. She buzzed in circles.

  “Wouldst thou desire to see me in such raiment, Lord Marcus?” Dëshoma asked, glancing over at me with a questioning look in her eyes.

  “My lady, I would love to see you in almost anything,” I said. “But surely our money would be better spent on adventuring items.”

  “Oh,” she said, disappointment flicking across her expression.

  Shit. That was the wrong thing to say. This was also an erotic game. I'd be expected to buy gifts for my women. Keep up their affection levels. Besides, women liked gifts no matter who they were. I swallowed my pride.

  “I would be, however, honored to buy it for you,” I said, sweeping in. “After all, you're in my harem. You need something to wear for sleep.”

  “Wouldst it not be a barrier in the way of our lovemaking?” she asked, running her delicate fingers over the fabric.

  “But then I would get the fun of removing it from your body,” I said.

  “So it is as much a gift for thee to enjoy as me.” She smiled. “I would wear it gladly, Lord Marcus.”

  “You will be sexy in it!” Iris cheered.

  I purchased it, handing over a few silver coins. It was handed to me gift-wrapped, something that seemed horribly out of place in the setting. I put the box into my pouch, which was enchanted to hold far, far more items than it should.

  The women kept browsing the dresses, skirts, and stockings. They found panties and Dëshoma blushed at the crotchless pair that Kulri had found. I waited out on the street, trying not to look impatient.

  I had been married once. I knew the routine.

  The feeling of eyes on me itched my shoulders. I frowned and looked up the street. People flowed by, none of them glancing at my armored presence. They didn't seem to care that I was a Shardhunter other than a few women flashing me smiles.

  In an alley mouth, an armored figure stood. He was dressed in platemail that was clearly made of various pieces of magical gear since none of it matched. The breastplate had a blue tinge to the shining steel, the pauldrons covering the shoulders matching it, while the closed-faced helm was shiny steel, a blue plume thrusting from the top of it. There appeared to be extra padding beneath the thigh-plates and greaves cladding the figure's legs. His arms were folded across his chest, staring at me. A sword hung from a heavy belt.

  Was this a quest hook?

  The figure vanished into the alley. I sighed. It sure felt like one.

  Chapter Two: Eye in the Sky

  Twist

  The dragonborn Thief prowled through the alley. Tension rippled around her shoulders. She'd felt the eyes on her the moment she stepped out of the Shardpool. She was known in Liberus. How long until he found her.

  She kept her hand resting on the sacrificial dagger she'd looted from the cultist. A wicked blade that dealt unholy damage to those it struck. If things went bad, would it be enough for her? She kept a calm look on her human-like face. Other than her red scales, no hair, and blue-slit eyes, she would look like one of the fleshy creatures strutting about. Her large breasts bounced in the straps of her armor, her bronze shuriken ready to be flung into an enemy's face.

  Plans danced through her mind. What she would do if things
went bad. Her eyes kept an eye on escape paths. Would he give her any? He was good. She would have to be creative to escape. Find her way back to Marcus.

  Is he strong enough? she mused. The human Paladin certainly had passion. He had a zeal in a fight, especially when a beautiful woman was on the line. She might not be human, but he had enjoyed the delight of her bountiful breasts and tight pussy.

  “Yha'arzo,” rumbled out of the shadows.

  She whirled around, the speed of her heart exploding into a thundering race. The orc stepped into sight, invisibility bleeding off of him. He stood tall, a black leather vest laced closed across his brawny chest, dark-green arms folded before him. He had daggers thrust into the top of his black boots. He had the build to walk down the Fighter Path, but he had chosen the Rogue Path. Had traveled farther than Twist down road.

  “Grunt,” she said with casual ease, keeping her anxiety out of her voice. Her tongue flicked out, thick and forked, tasting the air.

  The orc grinned at her, flashing yellowing tusks. “You used to call me something else.”

  “Well, I'm not Yha'arzo any longer, am I?”

  He grabbed the codpiece tied over his black, leather pants. He shook it. Sure you don't want a romp for ol' time's sake?”

  Hissing, she ripped the pouch of coin from her belt and threw it at him. It struck his chest and plunged for the ground. With dexterous ease, he caught it with the hand groping his codpiece. He hefted it, the coins rattling.

  “Well, you're paid up,” he said, his grin growing.

  “Good,” she said.

  “For now,” he said. “Still so much to pay, unless...”

  “I'm not your whore any longer,” she spat, whirled, and marched out of the alley. Would his attack come this time?

  * * / *

  I followed after the armored figure, reaching the mouth of the alley. I peered down it. The two buildings rose up high, each floor thrusting out a foot or so wider than the one before it, narrowing the alley as it climbed towards the sky. The armored figure vanished to the left.

  “What's up?” Iris asked. My pixie darted around my head in fast circles, her diaphanous wings buzzing. Dust rained down in front of me.

  “My gamer senses are tingling,” I said.

  “Gamer?” She cocked her head. “Like... chess? What does that have to do with this?”

  “My instincts,” I said. “Something's going on. I'm checking it out.” I marched down the alley, my bronze chain rattling around me. I loosened my ax in the loop holding it to my stout belt.

  “Alone?” Iris asked.

  I reached where the alley dumped onto a narrow, back street. The armored man had gone another block and marched out of sight behind the corner of a house. The large tree growing in its front yard hid him from sight.

  “Yeah, alone,” I said and jogged down the road. I reached the corner, peering down a dirt-packed street with some puddles in it, the Warrior striding down the middle. The blue plume in his helmet bobbed. “Think I can't handle it?”

  “It's just we have a party. Shouldn't the others be with you?”

  I shrugged and strode out onto the road. The Warrior didn't seem to be looking for tails. The few people on it melted out of his way, including a busty woman pushing a wheelbarrow full of flowers. She had a bright grin on her face, her red hair flowing about her shoulders.

  “Care to buy a flower?” she asked me when I reached her.

  I pulled out a brass coin. “Sure,” I said. I flipped it to her, snagged a violet one, and thrust it into my bag. That would brighten one of my women's day. “Thanks.”

  “It's a gold coin for a bouquet,” the woman said with an arched eyebrow. The invitation sent a jolt through my cock. She didn't look like a prostitute.

  “Sorry. I'd gladly pay for more of your sweet delights,” I said. “But I am in a hurry.” The Warrior was already vanishing around the corner.

  “Marcus,” Iris said. “Why don't you enjoy the flower girl? You know what that means, right? Selling flowers?”

  “Means?”

  “It's a euphemism!”

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “And?” The pixie buzzed before me. Her wings fluttered. “Doesn't that make you all hard and achy? Don't you just want to go after her and do things with her?”

  “I'd rather find out why that man was spying on us,” I said. “And where he's going.”

  Iris gave me this shocked look. Then she touched my forehead like she was taking my temperature. Her little hand tickled on my brow. Then she buzzed off without a word. I frowned as she rose over the building and out of sight.

  I shrugged and walked around the corner where the Warrior had vanished. That flower girl was cute. Red hair. Love redheads. I could have a jaunt with her. Maybe I could recruit her to sell flowers at my camp. There wouldn't—

  Pain exploded in my lower back. The cold wave of agony brought about by a knife plunging into me. I stumbled forward, blood gushing out of the wound. A bleeding DOT (a damage over time) debuff settled on me, spilling my Hit Points fast.

  “Fuck!” I cursed, turning.

  The next slash of the knife took me in the neck. A burst of my Hit Points evaporated. I went from 86 HP down to 35, and I was losing more with every tick of the bleeding debuff spilling blood down my back beneath my chainmail.

  I drew my ax, catching a glimpse of the figure who'd attacked me. A man, dressed in brown leathers studded with rivulets, holding a dagger low. Gray, made of iron or steel. My blood dripped from it. He stepped on the balls of his heels.

  He was a Thief who'd stepped out of his Vanish invisibility to shank me.

  “Bastard,” I snarled, gripping my ax and activated its once-per-day ability. A surge of positive energy flowed through me. The wounds to my neck and back knitted up. The bleeding debuff evaporated before the might of the restorative power of my ax.

  The Blessed Ax of Fertile Hew was my reward for saving Shuwëmeri's temple from being desecrated by her enemy, the Dark God of Ruin. Rūzem and his cultists had come close to perverting the abandoned temple, turning it into a focus of blight and decay. The two-bladed ax, each blade looking like a fertile crescent of copper, brimmed with the Goddess's love and passion. I gripped the red haft in one hand.

  “Come get it, ganking bastard!” I growled. I hated gankers. Other players who attacked you from surprise, wanting to PVP (player versus player) when you were in the middle of doing something else. Fury boiled through me.

  The rogue thrust his knife in at me. I Yelled, unleashing a temporary buff to my attack, and swung with my ax and used my new ability. The first I'd gained as a Paladin. The divine energy surged through me as I unleashed Holy Strike. My ax burst forth with glowing, white light. Instead of using my Technical Points like I would for my Fighter abilities, I used my newly gained Magic Points.

  My ax hit the enemy in the face. The burst of holy energy and the force of my blow slammed hard into him. He shouted in pain, reeling back. Blood sheeted over his right eye.

  “Behind you!” a voice squeaked down from above.

  A gunshot cracked, a thunderous boom. Not of a modern weapon, but a black powder blunderbuss. I turned to see three more rogues rushing up behind me, identical leather vests and pants on, matching weapons in their hands. Then an explosion of fire engulfed them. They screamed in shock and stumbled out of it, scorched burns across arms and faces, hair crisped away in spots, leaving crumbling ash in swaths across their scalps.

  I swung my ax, catching the nearest of these new rogues in the face, unleashing a Hard Strike, the first offensive ability I learned. One I had upgraded a few times as I leveled to unleash as much damage as my Holy Strike. The blow took the rogue in the neck.

  Blood spurted. He screamed as he dropped to the ground, kicking and convulsing.

  “Well struck!” rang down from above. A child-like voice or maybe a girl's.

  Another boom. Something hissed over my shoulder and struck a scorched rogue. A burst of blood exploded
from his shoulder. He reeled back and groaned, grabbing at the wound as he stumbled into my attack.

  My ax took him low, crunching through his floating ribs and into his abdomen. The blow threw the attacker to the ground. He hit and didn't move, dispatched. The third scorched rogue paused, lifting his knife, waiting to strike at me while my original ambusher moved up behind me.

  A pincer attack.

  Blood pumping, I threw myself forward. A Holy Strike blazed across my ax. I crashed it into the scorched rogue's arm. He snarled, blood spurting. He slashed. His blade struck my armor, skating across it, but didn't quite penetrate.

  CRACK!

  The bullet whizzed down from above. The footsteps rushing up behind me faltered with a curse. I whirled and slashed. The rogue bleeding from the gunshot ran right into my ax. A hard hit. Pain burst in my back as I hit the enemy a third time.

  The Kidney Shot from the scorched attacker sent a burst of agony through me.

  “Cocksucker!” I snarled and spun to kill him. I raised my ax, ready to unleash a Hard Strike.

  The bullet zipped down and slammed into my attacker's throat. Blood blossomed. His lunge faltered. He dropped his weapon to clutch at his Adam's apple. Crimson spilled over his fingers. He lurched right and then collapsed.

  I panted, my lower back throbbing from the pain. I looked to the roofs around me for the location of my surprise ally. A blur of motion. Someone dropped down. I shifted my stance as the figure landed in a low crouch.

  A child?

  No, no, she had the height of a child, but she had the curving figure of a woman, skin the color of burnished bronze. Round breasts, the left tattooed with whorls of tribal-like arms, jiggled. They were left utterly bare save for a pair of leather pasties that covered her nipples. Silver threads dangled from them, the tassels that strippers would wear. Dangling from her thick belt swirled a leather loincloth not unlike the one Maria wore. It left the short woman's lithe legs exposed down to her brown boots. She straightened from her crotch, a blunderbuss held in her hand. It had a large, reddish-gray barrel set in a wooden stock. A sexy and curvy woman with a reptilian tail peeking out behind her was branded into the wood. Metallic-silver hair swirled about her cute face, a grin playing on her lips.