The Scarlet Knight Pt. 01

Alysia had been travelling on foot for three days, and in that time had gotten three significant blisters on her left foot. Coming out of the wastes, she had been grateful for the fresh meadows and forest. Now she dragged her legs through the tangled alfalfa, wishing for the open, blasted ground she had come from. She could only hope her pursuers were equally impeded.

At last, she made it across the open field and ducked into the shadowed trees. Only now did she stop to rest, looking back over the sloping countryside. There were no traces of horsemen. Her foot was wet against the leather of her boot. She resisted the urge to sit and remove it, knowing she might never get it on again. In normal times, she would have washed the wound and gone to a medico for treatment. Not that she had known many normal times.

The countryside was empty, entirely still under the wavering heat.

Her foot throbbed. The world seemed to buzz in her ears, and her limbs were heavy. She would go just a little further, to where the smoke of a fire would be hidden by the branches. Having finished all her rations, the warmth would be her only comfort.

Not that she was entirely without friends. There was still the sword on her hip. This was a workmanlike weapon, without jewels or filigree, but of fine craftsmanship. She had wielded it to good effect previously, though never against the kind of numbers that were tracking her now.

She stopped short, leaned against a tree, and listened.

There was a voice somewhere ahead, crying out. Loud reports echoed as well. Blows. Violence, and a female voice. The woman shouted again, now clearly in distress. Alysia hurried, never minding her fatigue, clambering through the undergrowth and over deadfall. Soon a clearing appeared ahead, hidden among the trees. The breeze blew smoke in her face. There were violent movements, and a flash of long blond hair, jerking in response to the blows.

Coming closer, Alysia saw that an ample young woman was stretched out across the lap of a male ruffian. Her skirts were pulled up to reveal her backside, and the man was striking this over and over again with the flat of his hand. The globes of the pale arse were cherry red, turning darker. Each blow was followed by a grunt and a shrill cry. Her legs were kicking in protest, but the man held her firmly in place.

Alysia cleared her sword in one smooth motion as she sprang into camp, directing the point at the man's neck. His eyes opened wide in surprise. He gave a yell and stood up, dropping the woman to the ground. Alysia advanced on the man, but the woman came lightly to her feet, a long knife in her hand, and she used this to engage Alysia's blade. Steel rang. The woman pushed forward, and Alysia retreated, seeking sword-distance, confused by this response.

Everything stopped. The woman's eyes were jewel-blue, magnified by the uncried tears that stood in them, shaped by her scowl of fury. Alysia took the scene in, the woman's wild blond hair, the man's lean, wiry frame, his own black hair, the scar along one cheek. He had drawn his sword, and now he held it in front of the woman, protecting her.

This was no farmer, Alysia realized. This man had seen fighting, knew the way of it. She recognized a common past in his posture, the readiness in his eyes.

"What were you doing to this woman?" she said.

The man blinked. "I was spanking her."


Alysia looked at the woman. "Are you alright?"

The woman's expression relaxed. Slowly, she nodded. "Put up the sword."

"Why should I? You were being beaten."


The woman shook the hair away from her eyes. "Only because I asked him to. Now put up your sword. Please."


Alysia considered. It might seem strange to ask for a spanking, but every land held new customs, to be taken as one found them. Slowly, she withdrew her weapon. "She asked you to beat her?" she asked the man.

"She did."

"Why?"

"Because I enjoy it," the woman said.

Alysia slid the sword into its scabbard. She smiled, an expression almost foreign to her face. "Well, I should apologize, but you can imagine what I thought."


Leathering his own sword, the man laughed and went back to his seat on the log. "You can imagine our surprise. We found a private place, and we thought we were safe from..." He examined her again. "Sheriffs? Outlaws?"

"Neither," Alysia said, "A traveler, nothing more."

The young woman went back to the fire and put away the knife, then sat gingerly down on the log beside the man. "Well, you cheated me out of the last twenty, so you could at least tell us your name."


Alysia sat on the ground where she was, stretching out one leg at a time. Everything in her system told her this was time to rest. Here was a secluded little clearing, and her pursuers would expect her to hug the edges of the fields anyway, as she had done before. After days of running, walking, crouching in the shadows, sleeping in piles of deadfall, this rustic clearing was pure luxury.

"Alysia," she said, "Out of the north. And you?"

The man's smile took almost all the brutality out of his face. "I am Fennon. My lady is named Jenda. We're travellers, nothing more."

Alysia tugged her boot off with the other toe. "I won't ask you what you' ve been, though I am curious. Swords aren't common here in the south."

"No, they're not." Fennon hesitated, glancing at the blond woman, then back at Alysia. "If you're troubled about me, I'll tell you what I am. Or have been. I was a breaker for Lord Teshimaj, out on the Etesian Waste."

She looked up, eyes hard. "I see. Ordinarily, a man I'd feel it necessary to kill."

Shame moved across Fennon's face. Jenda put her arm around him, squeezing supportively. He said, "I'd hardly blame you. Many of the things they did, I did not do, but all the same, I was complicit in evil things. Violence grows, spreads, until every principle is left behind. Now I wander. I've forsaken violence."

"Except to my sore bottom," Jenda said with a dramatic wince. He grinned, and planted a kiss on her temple.

At last, the boot fell from Alysia's foot. Jenda gasped at the sight, rose and hurried over to kneel and examine it. "Oh, what have you done to yourself? Off with the other boot. Quickly, now!"

The young woman's movements were quick and sure. She went and brought a leather packet out of the bags, cut bandages and prepared ointments in a canister over the fire. Gently, she washed the wounds and poured a dram of ferment over the skin, causing Alysia to yelp in pain. At last Jenda applied a thick green poultice and wrapped both feet in tight bandages. "There. Now, you'll be able to walk about camp, but there'll be no travelling until you've healed, if you don't want to hobble yourself."

"A marvel, isn't she?" Fennon said, grinning, "She was a nurse and herbalist in a great house. I think she knows more about wounds and doctoring than our company surgeon!"
 The girl blushed. Alysia thanked her, and Jenda went back to sit beside Fennon.

They were a total contrast, these two. The man was dark and lean, wearing the patched remains of a soldier's leathers over faded blue workman's clothing. Jenda was buxom and fair, wearing a humble gown of homespun cloth over generous buttocks and bosom. When she walked, her movements were quick and efficient, producing motion under her clothing that drew Fennon's gaze, made his expression warm, and maybe a little wild.

He looked back at Alysia. "How does a woman happen to be traveling armed? And in a hurry, it seems?"

Alysia shook her head. "That, I think, I keep to myself."

"Is it because of what I told you? Of my past, with Teshimaj?"

"Yes, and as a breaker, no less. Jenda seems to trust you, but why should I?" Alysia got up and tried a step, surprised to find the pain lessened. She looked Jenda, who sat with her hand on Fennon's knee. A protective attitude, Alysia thought. As though she were the stronger of the two.

Alysia smiled. "You'll have to tell your tale first. How did you come to be travelling together?"

Fennon said, "I wandered through her town a few months ago. I was hungry, so I went up the hill to the manor house to see if I could get a few scraps from the kitchen. They wouldn't give me anything, but spoke of a gate that needed fixing, and said I could eat in exchange for the job. I went out around the house where they directed me, and there was Jenda, carrying an absolutely huge load of laundry out to the washtub under a windlass-pump. She smiled at me, all flushed and sweaty, and she looked, well... perfect, I suppose."

As he spoke, he toyed with a ringlet that hung down Jenda's neck. "She was careful, mind you. She stirred the laundry with a big stick, and she always faced me while she was working. The fence was all bent out of shape, but easy enough to bend up again with the hammer and awl. I looked back at her when I could. Could hardly stop myself. It was partly the way she moved, wringing all that laundry out with her hands. You could see the tendons stand out on her arms. And I've never seen anyone move more deftly than her. Not even you, with that sword."

His hand disappeared from her arm. Jenda's eyebrows raised, and she bit half her lower lip. Alysia could broadly guess what the hand was doing.

"When I was finished, she went inside and got me a meat pie and a parsnip. I ate, and she finished the laundry. We talked--local gossip, news of the road, little things. I thought it was strange, that a woman would treat a stranger this way. All the while, I could tell that she was gathering courage to say something. At last..." He nudged Jenda. "Do you remember what you said?"

She smiled. "I think I said, 'Stranger, before you go, will you please spank me?'"

Fennon grinned. "It was definitely more shy than that. I asked her why, and she told me she wanted to see if she liked it. I asked why she was trusting me, a stranger, to cause her pain. She pointed across the hedge, and I saw that another young woman was there, pruning. I could hear some others, working in the garden nearby. 'Do they know?' I asked. She smiled and nodded. Maybe some men would have refused, thinking it was some kind of a trap, but I found the idea exciting. She took my hand and led me through a gap in the hedge, down a path to a little bench beside the stream. We were out of sight of the windows there, and the field was empty."

Fennon stopped and looked to Jenda. He seemed to have lost confidence. Alysia wondered if he felt the strangeness of this conversation, just as she did. She could not remember quite how they had begun this subject, or why the discussion felt somehow natural, here in this secluded little clearing.

Jenda said, "The staff was disciplined with the paddle, when we did something wrong. It didn't feel good, but then old Doorta was so strict and cold. I thought, what if I were punished by someone young, and... I guess, beautiful? Kind? None of us quite knew. And then, when Fennon came..."

"You were taking an awful chance," Alysia said, "Even with your precautions."

"It might have earned me the paddle for shirking, but Doorta was getting too old to really lay into us anyway." She smiled at Fennon. "I flipped up my skirt and got over his lap." She craned up to kiss his cheek. "He did it softly at first. I had to encourage him to spank harder. But I could feel, underneath me, that he seemed to like it." She winked at Alysia. "He gets shy, talking about spanking. Even with me. Not so shy when my arse is bare, that's for sure!"

Alysia nodded slowly. "And so, you really do enjoy that... well, that kind of treatment? The pain?"

A little shudder shook Jenda, producing intriguing movements under her blouse. Five dimples appeared on her cheeks and chin. "It's painful, yes. And so... oh, warm and lovely and... and you're helpless, and waiting. Then the spanking starts, and something tells you you should fight back, you don't deserve this. The pain keeps getting worse. You could get away, or use your special word, and everything would stop, but you don't. With every spank, you decide not to. And so, it becomes your spanking, not his." She shuddered again, and laughed. "I'd rather be over his lap than at any lord's table, I can tell you!"

Alysia nodded slowly. She had been walking for three days, sleeping little. Now that she was safe, her body was calling her to sleep. But here there was an interest, an excitement that abated all other needs. "You mentioned your 'special word'. Is that some form of magic?"


Jenda smiled. "It is, but only for me. When I'm being spanked, I might cry out and try to get away, or even say, 'No no no! Please stop hurting me!' But none of that works. I am truly helpless. Still, if I were to say the word, 'Moonflower', then he would stop immediately, and we would be all embraces and cuddles, and talking and kisses. It's a little trick we made up together." She turned to her man. "But I didn't say it this time, did I? That means--"

Fennon nodded. "I know. You're owed twenty more. But with a guest here, I think best not."

"But she'll be here for ages, recovering! Alysia--" She looked over again with eager, begging eyes, "You don't mind our finishing, do you?"

Alysia shifted uncomfortably, but shook her head.

Instantly, Jenda flipped up her skirt and went over Fennon's knees. Alysia stared. The sight was new to her, intensely anatomical. Between the glowing red of Jenda's broad buttocks lay the topology of her nether lips, the outer pair thick and glowing with pale hair, the inner protruding boldly into the light. These were long, dark, asymmetrical and full of detail as they spread outwards, not unlike the mountain orchids Alysia had sometimes seen in the foothills. Completing the similarity, Alysia saw the merest glint of moisture in the central depths, like gathered dew winking in the morning sun. Alysia sat a few feet away, but could practically feel waves of heat radiating from Jenda as she waited for her final twenty.

The moment hung in silence, except for Jenda's breathing, and the gentle sound of a river nearby.

Fennon's hand came down on the left buttock first, the impact rippling outward and producing a little scream from Jenda. This descended to a low groan, and the girl quivered, gave a shuddering pant as the next blow descended. The impacts hurt Alysia's ears. Ten were delivered, then another ten, more quickly as they went on. Jenda's cries grew deeper, changed from yelps into groans, until her body stiffened and shook, then collapsed. Immediately, Fennon pushed Jenda to her feet and pulled her in close, his head snug between her full bust. She held his head, cherished it, rubbed his scalp, shedding a few tears into his hair.

The intimate moment dissolved easily, as though this interlude had been no more private or unusual than eating or sleeping. Conversation continued as the afternoon went on. Alysia strained to listen for her pursuers, but sank into the comfort of a safe camp as it drew on toward evening.

She and Fennon spoke generally of the traditions they had found in their travels, the long costs of violence and war. Alysia's suspicion had been correct--the two of them had traveled parallel paths. Jenda spoke little, but kept her position at Fennon's feet. Soon, she began looking up at them in turn, a touch of resentment in her eyes.

Fennon looked down at his woman and smiled. "My hand is sore, little one. You'll have to wait a while for more."

Jenda sniffed. "I'm satisfied, for now. But I want to speak too, and I don't know swords, or horses, or battle. Speak of things that I can talk about."


There was silence for a long moment, then Alysia said, "Were you a nurse for long?"


"No. I was a serving-wench at the tavern in town. Then Lord Dellinark fell sick, and the call went out for nurses at the great house. I had no experience, but Wannet trained me, and I found I had a gift for salves and unguents. Dellinark recovered, and I stayed. The work was safer, and the punishments were more bearable--at the tavern, they disciplined by withholding food. At the manor house, the servants always ate well. Often, we got the leavings of great feasts." She smiled at Alysia. "And you? However did a lady like you take up the sword?"

Alysia grinned. "I thought you wanted no sword-talk."

"It's more fun when it's my idea. How?"

"I found it. Or, I suppose, it found me. It was when I was young... there was..." Her mind faltered, and a yawn came over her without warning.

Jenda stood and said, "Tell us the story when you've rested. Make your bedroll by the fire."

"No." Alysia got to her feet. "I'm the guest. I'll take first watch."

"Like shit you will! Get over there and bed down, now. We can watch very well with just the two of us. We'll make supper. If you're awake, you can have some. If not, it will be for breakfast. Go!"

Groggily, Alisia obeyed. She lay in her blankets, watching the pair as they worked. Two different people, with different lives behind them, but they cooked together like a well-seasoned team. Fennon, tall and lean, moving with the abrupt grace of the long-travelling soldier. Jenda, short and round, maneuvered around the man with little, hopping steps that shook the visible portions of her bosom. In spite of her size, she moved more lightly than Fennon did.

Alysia watched the broad bottom as Jenda bent to slice sausages into the pan. The image was still before her, of rippling flesh, of feet kicking in pain, and the line of clear fluid that had dangled from the girl's sex by the time the final blow landed.

#

She slept a long time, coming out of it sore and chilled in the early, dewy morning. It was just after sunrise. Swiftly, she felt for the sword, found it in the scabbard beside her. Relieved, she rolled over on her other side, avoiding her bandaged foot. Something rustled nearby. Opening her eyes, she beheld a strange, blurry image, and a movement she did not recognize. She blinked, and the image resolved itself.

The shape became two. Two, and yet one. There was Jenda, stark naked, with her face resting on the ground, bare buttocks in the air. Above her crouched a nude Fennon, thrusting fervently into her. His eyes were on his lover, intent and shining. The expression was mindless, but occasionally the movement stopped, and he sank himself more deeply, prompting a sigh from the woman below him. Then he laid himself down over her back and whispered in her ear, breathing the fragrance of her hair.

It should have been a private moment. It still could be, if Alysia would only look away. But she did not. She could not refrain from witnessing the union of their flesh, wondering how this pair could seem so utterly content, and yet so desperately eager. Their speed increased, with a soft squelching sound like boots treading through mud. Jenda uttered a little whimper. Alysia marvelled again, at the profound vulnerability of the woman, the care the man showed, even in his lust.

This all changed as Fennon withdrew himself and pushed Jenda over onto her back. She giggled, and spread her knees apart. They were now closer to Alysia, who stared at the turgid penis before her, long, shiny and wet, standing up from a dense, dark pubic forest. There was a faint smell now, and she recognized it. Whenever Alysia touched herself, her own wetness was like this--an intimate aroma, like forest paths before the snows, beasts in the twilight.

Fennon fell into his woman. Jenda's hand reached down toward their junction, and the sounds grew louder, more wet. They panted, kissed, exclaimed in hushed tones as he thrust himself into her, and she thrust upward to meet him. He gave a final exclamation, thrust five times, and collapsed onto her. She continued with her hand, at last uttering a pathetic cry, then three deep, womanly grunts. Her limbs all fell to the dirt, and her sweaty breasts pushed Fennon up and down.

It had been stately. Abandoned, yet furtive. It took a moment for her to realize they were looking at her.

"Forgive us," Fennon said, pushing himself away. "We thought we could do it quietly. You seemed asleep."


Still naked, Jenda walked on her knees toward Alysia. "Lie still. I'll look at your foot."

Alysia stared at the jouncing breasts as the woman came forward. This was her first sight of Jenda's nakedness, and the mobility of her flesh was fascinating. Behind her, Fennon was dressing himself. Alysia stared at the white lines of scars, the hard muscle, and a slight layer of softness around his midsection. His bottom, far smaller than Jenda's, held an interest all its own. His penis was soft now, wilted and dangling.

Jenda lifted the bandages, nodded, and tied them again. "You're healing well."

Alysia shifted her foot against the ground. "It's amazing. There's practically no pain."

"I told you," Fennon said, "There's no finer nurse than her."

"We were being as quiet as we could," Jenda said, "Sorry for waking you."

Alysia shook her head. "I woke up and watched. I never told you I was awake. The fault was mine."

Jenda shrugged one rounded shoulder. "It doesn't matter."

"Why not? I stared at something that was private."

"People who live in a small space together are going to be seen and heard. It was my fault, really. I needed a good, deep fuck, and I know how to get what I need."

Alysia looked more boldly at the girl, the rolls of her belly, the white stretch-lines across her lushly padded hips.

Jenda was smiling at her. "Do you like to look at me?"

Alysia nodded.

Fennon walked over, now clothed, and sat near Alysia's head. "May I join, or is this private conversation?"

"Alysia likes to see me naked."

Fennon chuckled, mildly surprised. "Well, we have something in common."

More boldly, Alysia said, "I like to see you, too."

Jenda grinned. "His dangle is quite lovely, isn't it?"

"Oh... yes. That. Also, just--well, the way that he--"

"Rogers me?"

They laughed. "Yes," Alysia said, "There's an enthusiasm there, a really lovely sort of..." She searched for words, then gave up. "It's just beautiful. Strange, and beautiful."

Fennon stared for a moment, then said, "Alysia, may I ask--are you a virgin? You sound as if you are."

"I've never done what you two did. I've never been naked with someone."

"And what about toying with yourself?" Jenda asked. "Have you done that?"

Alysia's confessional mood surprised her. A constant, gentle pulse of pleasure warmed her lower belly, which somehow made this talk entirely acceptable. It might even have been rude to hold back, given what she had just watched them doing. She took a breath, let it out, and said, "I've toyed. I've... rubbed. But that was far from the thing you did. The pleasure was far smaller."

Jenda nodded. "Let me guess. You took your breeches down, fiddled with yourself, and buckled up again before anyone caught you?"

"It's not a safe world, Jenda."

"I know that. I know a quick one is better than none at all. But it doesn't always have to be a quick one, does it? Touching is a free thing--you can take as long as you want, if you're in a safe place. I've made it last an hour, sometimes."

"Well," Alysia said, "No chance for privacy here. Not now."

The day commenced. Jenda dressed herself, then went down to fetch water. Then, supper was warmed for breakfast, and Alysia went down to the creek to bathe. Her foot was almost entirely healed. Jenda said, it was all in the farjitt-root poultice, and a night's rest. Alysia sat on a small beach overhung with cottonwoods, where the current eddied in the shallows. She bathed carefully, working around her bandage. Coming up again, she found that breakfast was a fragrant mess of sausage and wild cress. They ate together, Alysia and Fennon sitting on the log, Jenda on the ground at Fennon's feet, cross-legged with the bowl of soup balanced on the tensioned fabric of her skirt. They drank a hot infusion of licorice root and mint, that warmed and cooled Alysia in pleasant waves.

Fennon said, "You were a soldier, I take it? Somewhere up north?"

"Not exactly," Alysia said, "I was born on a farm in the West Riding--the north part."

The other two nodded. They would know the West Riding by reputation, as a rocky place with bitter winters, chilly springs and autumns, and brief, brutally hot summers. The land gave farmers little for their labor.

Jenda pointed at the sword. "Continuing from last night, how do you come to be carrying that?"

Alysia had never told the story to anyone, was not sure she could. Now she began, slowly, and found herself gaining confidence as she went. "When I was fifteen, there was a battle near our house, just a couple of fields over. We were out working, and we heard the cavalry, felt it through the ground. I thought an arrow would reach us any moment. I was hoeing alone, in the field closest to the fight. I saw a man trailing off away from the battle on foot. He collapsed in the middle of my field, and I rushed out to him, though I knew Father would punish me for shirking. I got there as the man was dying, clutching his chest and gasping for air. He had a beard, bleached white, and a head of black hair. His armor was fine and burnished. I'd never seen a man like that before. He said nothing to me, but looked up, and pulled the sword partway out of the scabbard, the handle toward me, and died. As if he'd stayed alive just long enough to do that one thing.

"My father was a hard man. Looking back, I think he must have been afraid all the time. Many times we were on the verge of starving, so we worked all the daylight hours, and sometimes into the night. The five of us lived in one room, and there was another child on the way. I couldn't hide the sword in the house. If Father found it, he'd assume I'd been shirking, moon-braining off after adventure. And I wanted adventure. Anything that had nothing to do with dirt, seeds, or manure. My mother would cry, but they'd be glad to have one fewer mouth to feed.

"I took the sword, belt and scabbard, and hid them in the bushes. That night, when everyone else was asleep, I went out fetched them, stole some grain, took a flask for water, and left."

Here she stopped, as Fennon had stopped in his tale of the night before. Understanding, her hosts waited silently as she held back tears.

"Looking back, I saw lights around the front door. I snuck back and hid behind a clump of thorn-bush. They were soldiers. They dragged my mother and father out, then my brothers and sisters. My father resisted. The farm was his whole life, and I suppose he couldn't stand to see it taken. He mustn't have thought they'd kill him. But they did. And then... the rest of my family... they were taken away. I saw it, and even though I had a sword, I did nothing."

"There was nothing you could have done," Fennon said. "You were young, and they were many."

"I know that. Or rather, part of me does. I made my way south and east until I reached the road, then continued to the first town. I was tall for my age, and could pass for a boy. I smeared mud on the hilt of the sword to hide its value. The people I met took me for a mercenary, on my way up to the war. I worked for my meals at the inn, and I practised with the sword--played, more like. Soon, an actual soldier drew steel on me. He knocked me down and took my sword away. I don't know what else he would have done, because an officer stopped him, took the sword and gave it back. 'It's yours,' he said, 'But only if you can prove yourself with it. An amateur with a blade is dangerous. This is the last time I save you. Next time, I leave matters lie.'

"I asked him to train me. He said no, and I kept asking until he agreed, and taught me for six months. We started with sticks. It wasn't fine swordplay like the duellists use, more for cutting and slashing on the battlefield. At the end of that time, I could beat him more times than not. He and his company were sent north. I left town, heading south.

"I killed my first man in the Jai Kai Forest, a robber who was after my bag, and other things. I buried him there, not knowing what else to do. I took a few jobs, fought a few skirmishes. When the war ended, there were plenty of soldiers let loose, and some of them caused trouble on the highways. Merchant guilds hired me for protection. I never did become an expert, but I made a living, for a time."

Fennon said, "How did you come to be on the run, on foot and without food?"

Alysia smiled. "I turned thief. There was a certain border chieftain, a petty king called Teshimaj, on the Etesian Waste. I think you know him. He sent out his bravos to capture a new girl for his household, and they took their liberty with that girl, as well as several others. That rankled me, so I thought I'd see if I could rob his storehouse, and maybe take the women back. But I was betrayed. The men I had with me vanished once we reached the stockade, and I was left to fend off several guards. The first one I managed, but the next was a true swordsman, not a journeyman like me. I can still remember his face, the long hair, the golden earring. I see him in my sleep. I could do nothing against him.

"He pressed me fast, and others were coming. I broke and ran. I happened to find a horse hitched to a fence, and I jumped astride and rode away. The horse broke its leg in a pit, but by that time I had a lead on them. I stopped long enough to put the poor thing out of its misery, then I fled all the way here."

Something else had been troubling her. Now she looked up at them, and said, "They won't have given up. I've stayed here too long, and for that I'm sorry, but if we leave in separate directions, I think I can draw them away from you. Thanks to you, Jenda, my foot is much better."

Fennon was scowling at his plate, deep in thought. At last he said, "Teshimaj was a fine leader, by some standards. Evil standards. I never could get used to serving a man like that. Once they brought me a woman and told me to take her, like they would have offered me a plate of stew. I still remember her eyes, how she shivered with fear. Because of me. I still feel the shame of it. I stayed with her in that room to keep her from the others, but I never touched her. I left the next day. She went with me as far as her home village, and we parted ways. That was all." He looked at Alysia, then Jenda. "I can't expect either of you to believe it, but it's the truth."

Jenda placed a hand on his knee. "I believe you. You never took pleasure overpowering me, unless I asked you to."

"I should have done more. If there had been a higher authority, if there had been any law apart from Teshimaj himself..." He stood, licking his fingers clean, then went and cleaned his plate in the flames. "You're welcome to stay as long as you please, Alysia. We're well-hidden here."

She clutched the handle of her sword, remembering the false trails she had laid, the thickness of the undergrowth. It was a good spot. She had only heard the spanking when she'd come very close to the camp. The odds were against their being stumbled upon if they stayed here. If they moved, they would only leave another trail.

Jenda was looking at her, lost in thought, a frown making a dozen little dimples on the upper part of her double chin. "How did you like it?" she said at last, "Yesterday, I mean. My spanking. You must have seen it."

"Seen what?" Alysia asked.

"My cunt."

The word took her by surprise, and for a moment, she did not answer.

Jenda continued. "I know it's rather big, and the position does tend to spread me open. I've never seen it myself--my overhang is too big. Tell me, what is it like?" She held up a finger to Fennon, who was about to speak. "Not you. Just her. You'll have your turn."

They both waited for Alysia. She could be vague about it, pretend the moment had made no impression. But it was still clear in her mind's eye, like the afterimage of a strange sun.

"It was beautiful," she said, "Your hair is a little red, all curly. The... area is plump, and there are inner bits of flesh that come straight out, and they're... strange, and wonderful, and wet in between. Like a mouth, almost. And..." She smiled into Jenda's face, surprised at her own boldness. "It drooled."

"Did it?" Fennon said with a grin, "Spanking always makes her wet, but you say it was dripping? I wonder if it still is. Here, let's see!" He got down and crawled over to Jenda, who shoved him away, then kicked him, not hard. Groaning, he collapsed, as though fatally wounded. She raised herself up, and sat her capacious rear end down on him, producing a breathy grunt.

"Well," she said, "I suppose she just likes having someone to show off for." She grinned at Alysia. "I never thanked you, by the way. For drawing steel for my sake. And while you were injured, too. And exhausted. All for a poor little female you'd never even met."

Alysia smiled. "Think nothing of it. After what you did for my foot, I think I'm the one who owes you!"

"Really?" Jenda leaned forward. Her blouse fell open, showing a warm expanse of bosom. "And what should be your payment, to balance out the books?"

The clearing fell silent. Jenda's eyes were wide, and she slid off of her man, down to the ground. Fennon sat up, eyes serious, alternating between both women. Alysia sensed that some barrier had been breached, that an agreement existed between these two, and Jenda had somehow gone too far. The mention of payment, maybe--a taboo matter, between guest and host outside of an inn.

Mercifully, Alysia broke the silence. "I do have one request."

Jenda grinned. "Why, certainly! Command us, my lady, and we obey!"

Alysia had determined not to ask this, though it had been nagging at her since yesterday. All the more now, as she remembered the hard, implacable swinging of Fennon's hand. The hard, implacable motions of his hips this morning. Jenda's little noises, ecstatic and helpless.

Alysia looked at Fennon, took a deep breath, and opened her mouth.

"Spank me."

#

Alysia stood beside the fire. Fennon sat on the log. Jenda stood between them, hands folded in front of her, like a servant waiting to be called. Somehow, in this moment, Jenda and her man behaved like the underlings, waiting for Alysia to make a move before they themselves would act.

Alysia spoke, breathless, a thrill of fear stirring in her belly. "I want two hard ones on each side. As hard as Jenda had. I need to know."

He nodded. "Four to start. Very well. Come along, over my lap." She moved to his left side. "No, the other direction. The way Jenda was."

His voice was not impatient, or strict. Simply firm. She walked around to his right, and bent over across his hard thighs. His hand rested gently on her left buttock.

"There aren't many," he said, "So I'll give them hard and fast. Breathe deeply, in and out."

She did, and the blows came. The pain was delayed somehow, so that the effect of the first pair of spanks overlapped with that of the second pair. They seemed to finish before she had truly felt them. The sting blazed, then spread across the area, tingling and warm. She remained in place.

Bare feet came into her view, and dimpled knees bent. Jenda squatted in front of her, holding Alysia's hands in hers, smiling brightly into her face. She was nude. It was meant as a comfort, Alysia thought. The girl knew she liked to see the shape of her belly, the motion of her breasts. "Now," Jenda said, "Was that very bad?"

"Was it hard?"

"As hard as he ever hits me. You didn't get very much. Four would never be enough for me."

"How many does he usually give you at once?"

Jenda frowned in thought. "It might depend on how his hand is feeling. Or, on other things." She reached out and tucked an errant strand of hair behind Alysia's ear. "I know. Why not have him continue, and then stop when one of you sees fit?"

Slowly, Alysia nodded, then said, "Wait. What's my special word?"

The big girl shrugged. "It can be what you want it to be."

"Could I use yours? Moonflower?"

Jenda's mouth hung open, then, impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed Alysia's forehead. "Of course you may! Of course!"

Fennon's hand raised. Alysia cried out, "Wait!"

Slowly, she stood up, unbuckled her belt, and slid her britches down to her knees, then to her ankles, and stepped out of them. Her drawers came next. The air raised bumps on her skin--the air, and the thrill exposing herself. She had not expected to undress, and now she was surprised that the act was so easy and natural. With a little submissive thrill, she returned to her position. Fennon's hand on her bottom felt unnaturally warm. Panic rose at the intimate touch, then subsided immediately. Jenda took hold of her hands. The big woman's blue eyes held apprehension. Concern. Anticipation.

"Until one of us stops it," Fennon said, and then began.

The stinging came again, now more intense, alternating between cheeks. The sounds were loud, vicious, somehow separate from the bursts of pain that began to drive gasps out of her body, then grunts, then little high-pitched cries. A stinging fire built up across her skin, penetrated her flesh. Jenda's hands redoubled their sweaty grip. Alysia's breath stuttered.

Dimly, she thought she might say the word. But she did not. She did not truly want to. There was an element of relief in this pain, as though her rump had long held many itches, which only a spanking could scratch. The pain changed, stoking a fire that was connected to another fire in her sex.

She could not remember being vulnerable like this. It was not possible in her world, which consisted only of enemies and potential enemies. Now she yelped and grunted, agony and resilience on full display.

"Moonflower!"

At first she thought the voice had been hers, but now Jenda repeated the word as the spanking stopped. Jenda held Alysia's head, and kissed her face over and over again. Alysia's rear was hot and pulsing. In the aftermath of the pain, there was an intense calm, like the ebb tide after the final raging wave.

Shakily, she stood up, helped by both of them. Fennon held her upper arms. "Alysia? Speak. Are you well?"

She sniffed, nodded, then laughed. They both laughed with her. "So," Jenda said, "Did you like it?"

Alysia nodded, and was about to elaborate, then suddenly stopped. Her head whipped around, her gaze piercing the forest. There had been a furtive crash, somewhere out in the trees. A deer, perhaps. But deer were rarely so loud, or clumsy.

She bent to her discarded belt and drew out the sword. Bottomless, with a naked weapon, she stood facing the trees. Quickly, Fennon armed himself as well, and Jenda followed their example with a stout walking-staff.

Alysia spoke over her shoulder. "Stay back, Jenda. Behind us, out of sword-reach."

Jenda nodded quickly, very pale, naked, eyes at their widest. She held the weapon with both hands, standing as tall as she was able. Alysia turned away, in time to see uniforms, and familiar helmets. Of course, Teshimaj's men had tracked her here. Of course they could follow the trail of a wounded person, on foot and without provisions. Of course, her precautions had been useless. She had been stupid, and now her new friends would pay the price.

Three of them broke into the clearing, with five more behind them. They stood in surprise at the sight of the man with the drawn sword, but more so at the women. Jenda, her abundant body bare to the sunlight, holding the staff as though hiding behind it. Alysia, feet widely splayed, thick pubic hair between two strong and wiry legs. They laughed at the sight, surprised and eager. Clearly, they were thinking of what they might do. Clearly, they expected this to be easy.

The first one came forward, and was engaged by Fennon, who locked swords and shoved him backward. Alysia closed with the second one.

This man's hair was long, and his ear held a large earring, looted from its rightful owner. He recognized her as she recognized him. Grinning, he held his blade easily, allowing her to tap the steel. He was toying with her, drawing her in. She angled her blade and stepped forward, and the point went through the center of his throat, even as it turned his own blade uselessly away. Bewildered, he dropped his sword and groped at the pumping wound. There was no time for her to wonder at how easy it had been. She shoved him aside, and came face-to-face with the next man.

Seeing what had happened to the expert swordsman, this one lost confidence. He held his guard, engaged her blade with little taps, not shifting his weight or committing himself. She feinted, and he met it cautiously, counterattacked with a small thrust and a quick side-step. Alysia saw the trap, not attacking through the gap he had left.

Losing patience, he made a thrust. She stopped the blade, then stepped toward him, and felt his ribs scraping along the steel. Her sword came loose from his body with a violent tug, and she moved on to the next.

All of this had only taken a few moments. Fennon was still involved in his own fight. Jenda was looking for an opportunity to use her staff. Reinforcements were still approaching through the bushes.

Alysia took off at a run, swinging a cut at Fennon's foe as she went. It was an offhand attack, almost an afterthought, but it produced a spray of blood, and Fennon delivered the coup instantly. Already she was beyond, running her hardest toward the dense wall of brush.

Ordinarily, she would not rush pell-mell into thick forest, even with her breeches on. But she saw two thick branches, and somehow, she knew that she could certainly do the thing she intended. She jumped, climbed, stepped onto one branch, and set her foot on the other, straddling the space between. Below, a bewildered face looked up at her, half-hidden by the hair of her pubis. She struck downwards, piercing him through the eye and into the brain. Another mercenary stopped at the sight, torn between her scarlet buttocks and the sword that was already describing an arc toward his own throat.

Part of her marveled at her agility as she strode across the branches, ducking and weaving in and out, toward the panicked sounds of running. Someone was in full retreat. Getting away. To save his life, and fetch reinforcements. She pressed on.

Suddenly, she saw him down below, struggling across the snarled branches of three fallen trees. Frantically, he balanced his way across, too busy to notice the half-nude woman crouching in the trees above him.

Leaves stroked her bottom as she shifted toward a tree overhanging his destination. A few licked her private parts. They touched the burning hand-marks, awakened them. Instantly, strength surged in her limbs, sharpened her eyes and mind. The man below was known to her. Vandon. She had hired him to help her in robbing Teshimaj, and freeing his prisoners. He stood beside her, resolute as they had sworn brotherhood, all the while knowing he would betray her. Now his face was pale, drooping with terror. He nearly fell several times, arms flailing.

At last he made it across, dropped to the forest floor and began to run. She was already plummeting from the trees, sword flashing.

It was not a killing blow, but it stopped him. He fell to his knees, looking down at the bloody wound in his belly. He looked up at her, and opened his mouth to scream. Instantly, she lifted her leg and delivered a kick to his throat, rendering him speechless and gasping.

She stood above him, legs splayed. It was not strictly intentional, but she knew that Vanden could see all of her vulva, bright pink, which she herself had only ever seen as a reflection of still water. A beacon of inner flesh, through a thicket of pubic hair. He stared at this, then at her face, eyes wide with surprise and terror.

At first, she had intended to confront him with his betrayal. But now, in this moment, it seemed that her labia were enough. Those, and the blade with which she now cut his throat.

She hurried back the way she had come. Fennon and Jenda stared at her, mouths open, without blinking. She thought of the image she presented--buttocks red, sword redder, dripping redness into the grass.

One of the bodies on the ground coughed, and a hand clutched the ground. Before the other two could move, Jenda hefted the skillet, knelt at the man's head, and delivered two decisive blows that ended his movement forever.

Swiftly, they doused the fire, dressed, and gathered their things. The need for haste was clear. These men were dead, but others would not be far behind.