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From: t'Sade <for-contact-email-look@tsade.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} {t'Sade} Puppy Mill [85/89] Paintings (MF best viol cons rom)
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Date: Sun, 19 May 2013 20:10:01 -0400
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On her way to work, Merrie was kidnapped off the streets of Franome City
by a thriban named Bass. It didn't take long before she found out her
fate: to be broken, trained as a puppy sex slave, and sold to the
highest bidder. But, what started as a journey of terror became
something else when she found magic in her submission and a destiny that
went far beyond a mere slave.

Puppy Mill 85: Paintings
by t'Sade

Catais Milliford is a fascinating painter, capable of illustrating the
personal lives of so many people on the caravan. But, Merrie is curious
about the colorful (in many ways) man and she finds out that he has more
than just a talent with the brush and paint.

(MF best viol cons rom)

**

Merrie's body solidified as she came up inside the dark wagon. Her tail
brushed against a wooden shelf as she settled into place and looked
around. It was dark in the back, but she gave the comforting shadows no
attention. The entire back of the wagon was lined with narrow shelves,
each one was three centimeters tall but wide enough for a half-meter
wide painting to be slipped between the slats. The shelves reached from
floor to ceiling and held hundreds of paintings.

She knew what a few of the paintings looked like. Catais Milliford, who
always used his full name when he spoke, spent every breakfast and
evening painting near the fire. For the first three days of the journey,
he had a crowd watching curiously but by the fifth day, only a few
including Merrie hung around to watch his graceful strokes.

Catais was not what she expected. Her first encounter with him, outside
of Gillette's memories, was watching him bathe in the river with the
other farmers and merchants. The water around him was stained blue and
yellow and she enjoyed how the swirls of color became green as they
coursed along the currents.

Unfortunately for one of the merchants, he wasn't paying attention and
got caught in the color. Two days later, the thin merchant was still
complaining about his dick being stained green.

Merrie's tail wagged slowly as she peered into the shelves. Catais was
meticulous in his actions. There was no clutter in his wagon, only shelf
after shelf of paintings. Each painting was nestled into place and held
with a wooden latch. Below each painting, on the far right, there was a
card in neat handwriting that indicated where he painted it.

She peered at the nearest card with a smile. Podaris Family, Green
County, 3/781-200. Curious, she unlatched the painting with her cloak
and eased it out. It was a winter scene of a farm house with smoke
billowing out of the chimney.

House and Brown Family, Ricie County, 3/780-720. A late summer painting
of children playing in a field.

Silver-River Commune, Ricie County, 3/780-722. Despite being painted two
days later, the commune was completely different with rain pouring down
gutters and an old man bathing in the waterfall. The detail was
incredible, from the wrinkles and scars of years of farming, but also
the innocent look as if the man didn't know he was being painted.

Merrie eased the pictures back and lifted up. There were hundreds of
them in the back of the wagon. Hundreds of scenes from the farms and
villages in the countryside. Catais specialized in the lives of those
living outside of cities and he painted with a skill that gave life to
the painting.

She closed her eyes and opened up her mental senses. There was another
reason she sneaked into the back of his wagon. The paintings had more
than a physical presence; there was a psionic imprint on each one. She
missed the magic when he was painting, but it pricked her attention when
he brought out five of them to show how a farm changed over fifty decades.

Feeling foolish, she looked around. She didn't know if she was crafting
some paranoid delusion or not. But she wanted to know if the paintings
were anything more than art. She also suspected that she was breaking
into the wagon because there was nothing else to do. For the last five
days, she had sat in a wagon, fucked merchants and farmers and guardians
alike, and hunted with Tamin. The caravan ended up being over two
hundred people, mostly farmers, that were heading to the southern
counties for seasonal work or to return home.

The only interruption was so far was when a pair of rabid bears attacked
the caravan. Between Gillette, Tamin, and herself, the attack lasted
less than five seconds.

She sighed and concentrated on the nearest painting. She was expecting
to sense a crystalline spell, but Catais' magic was just like his
painting, a swirl of colors with intricate detail and precision. She saw
how the loops of his brush matched the spell and that almost all of
strokes glowed with different magic.

It wasn't the hard rigid spells she expected from a psionic, but closer
to her own calligraphic spells. But, magic was magic and she inspected
the spells.

The easiest enchantments were the preservation spells. They were tinged
with a sense of slowness and protection, a variation of her armor
spells. Her tail stopped wagging as she lost herself in the intricate
crafting of the spell. It wasn't the raw power of the Loyal's armor or
the spells that she was taught. Instead, his protections worked with the
medium, swirling and layering.

A smile crossed her lips. She could learn something from his magic. The
brush strokes were closer to the shifting shadows.

(You're suppose to be inspecting, Alpha, not learning.)

Her tail resumed wagging. (I can do both.)

Setting aside what she learned from the spell, she delved deeper into
the spells that made up each painting. There was more, far more than she
expected: subtle charms that gave the painting the sense of life and
reality; charms to draw the eye to it, a painted form of Presence; and
also some sort of memory charm that plucked at her memories but she
couldn't identify its purpose. The final spell was the most complicated.
It used the entire painting and more, but the intricacies of the spell
were far more complicated than anything but the enchantments on her collar.

"You know---"

Merrie shivered at Catais' wry voice filling the back of the wagon.

"---I would have just shown you the pictures if you asked."

Guilty, Merrie peered over to where the paint-stained man stood in the
door leading to the front of the wagon. He had a painting in his hand
and was surrounded by the smell of fresh paint.

He was smiling and she noticed he was missing a tooth. "You're Shades,
right?"

Letting her cloak melt away, Merrie used her nose to push the painting
back into place and latched it.

"I saw your shadow moving."

Her ears flattened against her chest. (Sorry.)

Catais' eyebrow rose. "Telepathic?"

She barked.

"With a framework of some sort. Gillette said something about that. You
act like a dog? Is that were your power comes from?"

Merrie worried her lip and then barked again.

"Well, I know I'm not suppose to give puppies lagers, but would you like
one? You seem like you'd like a good lager."

She nodded and stepped away from paintings. Her body made no noise as
she crawled the length of the wagon and up in the front.

Catais stepped back and gestured to the tiny room. "Welcome to my home."

It was the smallest part of the wagon, not much larger than a closet.
His bed was narrow, barely a meter across with two thin blankets on it.
The rest of the room was filled with painting supplies, each tube slid
into a square shelf that reached three meters from floor to ceiling. His
easel, the one she saw out by the nightly fires, dominated the corner of
the room but it was empty at the moment.

"It isn't much, but my life is painting and travel." He sat down on a
tall stool. "And I don't really have guests in here."

Merrie smiled and nodded. She glanced around before sitting down.

"No, no, you're much too short. You can sit on the bed if you want."

Feeling guilty at being caught, Merrie looked up at the bed. It was just
over a meter off the ground with short drawers underneath it. She sighed
and flowed up to it, reappearing as she settled down on the thin
mattress. It had the familiar smell of man mixed in with the stench of
paint. She thought the sheets were gray at first, but then she realized
it was just layers of paint that had stained the colors into a shifting
gray. (I'm sorry.)

"No, no, I don't mind. I knew you were psionic and," he chuckled, "far
more capable than me. I missed it the first few days, your repulsion
spell is rather powerful, but when you were fending off..." He coughed,
"I mean eviscerating those rabid beasts when I saw it."

Merrie blushed. Eviscerate was probably the nicest thing anyone said
about the attack. She also heard "disemboweled" and "exploded" used more
than once.

(I like mauled,) supplied Tamin, (also tasty.)

She giggled and tried to concentrate on the man in front of her.

"Your dog? He's a familiar?"

Merrie shrugged. (Sort of. More like part of my pack.)

"Kind of strange seeing you crawl around. But, there seems to be a lot
of guys and a few girls interested in you. I've had requests to make a
painting of you, actually seven of them. I think they don't want to
forget you."

Her tail thumped against the wall. She knew the lust that others had for
her. It was part of her life and also why she had a steady stable of
customers in Franome City.

"I've love to paint you, though. You seem," he leaned forward,
"fascinating."

Her skin grew warm at his low voice. It was sensual and comforting, but
not sexual. She reached out with his mind, slipping through his shifting
shields delicately. He didn't respond as she brushed along his surface
thoughts. There was no sexual desire for her, or for anyone else as far
as she could tell.

His eyes trailed over her body, following her curves but no lust bubbled
up through his mind. Instead, he was imagining painting her, the swirl
of his brush and how he would swirl her colors together. Though he
didn't want to fuck her, he was looking at her more intimately than
anyone else had ever seen her before. She felt naked and exposed to his
intensely brown eyes.

Blushing, she cleared her throat. (What spells are you putting into
those paintings?)

He smiled broadly enough for his teeth to be visible. "To the point, not
what I expected. It's hard to see personalities from magic, but I would
expect the shifting and sliding part of your mind would reflect your
nature." He chuckled and swirled his fingers in the air. "One more
reason why I love painting people. The unexpected."

(I have enemies right now and I'm just a little nervous. Gillette never
said you could use psionic magic.)

"I don't exactly advertise it." He gestured to the paint. "Ruins the
mystique of the wandering painter. People want to see the pictures of
happier times and their memories without thinking that someone is
stealing them away. Or forcing them to fall in love with it."

(There is a memory charm on them.)

"It's a spell, but yes. I am," he chuckled, "stealing them in a way.
Well, copying them. I love the raw slices of someone's life. Those
moments where no one thinks it is special but, years later, they
realized it was those quiet times they missed the most. So, I paint and
keep them. In my house and warehouse."

(Why?)

"To bring them back. Those five pictures I showed this morning? The farm
burned down earlier this year and the family was about to give up. For
five generations I've painted that family. So, I pulled them out and
brought them back. I give hope and encouragement, to show what they were
lost and why they need to recover."

(What do you get out of it?) Merrie frowned as she looked at the
paint-stained room.

"Oh, money of course. The various building guilds pay me as does the
Rebuilders and the Engineering guilds. Occasionally I get donations. I'm
a follower, of sorts, with the Guardians since I help the healing
process after devastation and disaster. Mostly, I just like helping people."

She smiled. (I can see why Gillette likes you.)

"Yeah, that walking wall of muscles was a little boy when I first met
him. Their entire village was destroyed by a necromancer and a horde of
undead. He lost his mother and had to kill his own father while
protecting his brother."

Her tail and ear flattened against her head as she remembered the memory
in his head.

"I think that is why his brother's death was so devastating. So much
pain and death has followed him. I was glad it didn't corrupt him into
darkness like so many others." Catais sighed. "I tried to show him the
better times, but it was too late. The world had ground down on him. I
painted his marriage to Gwen and Tara and prayed to all the gods that
listened that he would find happiness. But... they died during the
second plague."

(I saw.)

"Poor man. So much hope crushed every time. I'm glad to see that he's
found his calling, but I don't think he would ever commit to someone
again. Everyone he loved has died in his arms."

She thought about the times he rejected her, the hopefulness that
suddenly turned into despair. With a sigh, she slumped to the bed. (Is
that why he rejected me?)

Catais nodded sadly. "He's had a hard life."

Guilt slammed into her. She stared at the paint and try to fight it.
There was more to Gillette than what she saw, she knew that already, but
his actions began to make more sense.

"You know..." started Catais, "I don't get a chance to talk shop with
anyone. Think there is anything we can, you know, trade? I can teach you
some memory spells."

Merrie raised her gaze to him. (I know combat spells.)

He chuckled. "Do I look like I want to get into a fight? I'm close to
three hundred years old."

She thought about his life. (I also know searching spells and
time-keeping. It might be helpful for finding people who need help. I
don't know about range, but I can usually sense things about a kilometer
away.)

His smile brought a smile to her own lips. "I'd love to trade then.
Maybe also a painting, of you? You don't have to be naked."

Merrie glanced down at her body. (I'm always naked.)

Another chuckle. "Then I insist you are naked."

Her tail wagged back and forth. (Deal.)

"Well, how about first thing in the morning? I learn the best right
after I have food in my belly and before the summer sun bears down on
me. Plus," he gestured to the bed, "I was about to take a nap."

Blushing, Merrie jumped off the bed. (Sorry.)

"You didn't know." He patted her on the head as they swapped places in
the room. With a thump, he sat down heavily on the bed. "You don't need
me to open the door, right?"

With a giggle, Merrie melted into shadows and slipped away, leaving the
painter in place. (What do you think, Tamin?)

(He seems nice, though I worry about another psychic in this caravan.
He's an unknown.)

(At least there aren't any other mages here.) The only other magic
Merrie saw were minor spells for starting fires and cooking. Actually,
there were very few combative people in the dozens of wagons making
their way along the road. Most of the caravan cowered during the bear
attack and the other guardians didn't have a chance to even pull out
their swords before she and Gillette finished the creatures off.

She reformed as a black hound next to Catais' wagon. Bounding forward,
she headed for the front where Gillette and another guardian were
leading the way. Both men were riding horses, but she was amused by
Gillette's discomfort with his mount.

Tamin appeared next to her, slipping from the shadows to join her.

As she approached the horses, she reached out and let Gillette know she
was close.

Gillette chuckled. (Were you out hunting?)

Merrie grinned. She had been providing fresh food for the caravan.
Though, she loved fucking, it was nice to get out and just let the
animistic urges take over. The taste of blood on her mouth and the
thrill of the hunt.

Tamin bumped against her. (Any other urges?) His amusement was tinged in
hope. (Prey-like urges?)

Merrie moaned softly and let the images drift through her mind: of Tamin
hunting her down in the underbrush, the rush of fear as she tried to
escape her hunter, and the final moment when he pinned her to the ground
with teeth at her throat and cock pounding into her body. A fire grew in
her sex as she sank into Tamin's suggestion.

There was something she wanted, but she was afraid to take the last
step. The collar would bring her back to life if she did. She was
terrified of dying, but there was desire bubbling in the back of her
mind. She wanted to know what it felt like to have her throat ripped out
as she was fucked, to be torn apart and recovered. It was a guilty
thought that humiliated her, but she knew it was just a matter of time
before she took the plunge.

(Tonight?)

Merrie rolled her eyes, letting the strength spell pump through her
veins, and then slammed Tamin as hard as she could.

The black hound flew away from her and slammed into a tree, snapping the
tree trunk, before crashing into another tree. A flash of lust and pain
burst along the connection and she squeezed her legs to prevent the
trickle of excitement from running down her thighs.

Gillette responded first, jumping off his horse as his scythe swung around.

Merrie flushed and sent a quick thought toward him, along with the image
of what just happened. (It was me.)

The other guardian was slipping off the horse when Gillette groaned.
Thumping his scythe on the ground, he sighed. "False alarm."

"What was it?" asked the other man.

Gillette looked around, his eyes searching for her. She let the shade
drop for him and gave him a sheepish grin. The humiliation and
embarrassment only added to the flames licking at her sex. "Bad girl,"
he muttered.

The other guardian groaned. "Fucking mages!" He sat down heavily in his
saddle and yelled in the general direction. "Stop fucking running around
invisible!"

Merrie giggled and concentrated on Gillette. (Sorry. I was just---)

Tamin bounded from the side of the road, his teeth bared. Black shadows
clung to his body.

With a squeal, Merrie let the shade drop from her body and she shot off
ahead of the caravan. Her black paws pounded on the ground as made no
effort to hide her presence.

Behind her, Tamin howled as he charged after her.

She cast strength into him to ensure she was caught. With a giggle, she
dove to the side and into the underbrush. Branches and thorns scraped
against her skin as she crawled over rocks and along the wild roses. Her
cloak faded away and she let go of her hound form to become a naked
woman again. Imaginary fear, the terror of a prey, flooded through her
mind and she moaned at the anticipation of being caught.

Despite being faster than the caravan, neither wanted a drawn-out
teasing before fucking. They needed it immediately, to dominate and to
submit.

She was barely a hundred meters from the road when he caught her.

He hit her from the side, throwing her into a red-petaled rose bush. Her
side stung from the impact. Snarling, he dove in after her, pushing past
the thorns.

Merrie crawled away from him, her body burning with excitement. It
dribbled from her sex, adding scents of lust and fear to the perfume of
the flowers.

With a surge of speed, he lunged. She tried to bat him away, but he
knocked her arms aside and chomped down on her throat. Teeth punched
into flesh and she let out a cry of passion as her body spasmed with the
first of many orgasms. (You're my bitch!)

Merrie's vision blurred as blood trickled down from her neck. She gasped
and lifted her hips, spreading her legs as his cock lined up with her sex.

He drove in hard, punching his thick cock into her sex and slamming it
to his balls with a single stroke. She wasn't quite slick and the
friction of his penetration sent sharp pains coursing through her veins.
And then he drove into her, pumping hard and fast. It didn't matter if
she was bleeding or being bruised, her collar and her shape-changing
would heal the minor injuries.

Whining, Merrie clamped her legs against his flanks and gave him
complete access to her sex. She couldn't hook her non-existent feet
together anymore, but having her shins tight against his body reminded
her of that long-lost position.

His knot slammed into her sex, crushing her labia with rapid-fire
strokes. He grunted as he pounded her through the rose bush. Every
stroke slammed his cock against her cervix and his knot against her
opening. As he withdrew, her bare back was dragged through the thorns.
Lines of scratches marked her back and she lost herself in the
helplessness, though pretend, of being violently fucked by her lover.

She could feel her belly swelling with his cock. The girth filled her to
the brim. Every impact shuddered through her body and she sank into it,
meeting his strokes with thrusts of her own hips. The wet slurp of his
thrusts filled the air. The dribble of their combined juices dribbled
down her ass crack and along the scratches from the thorns. The little
pains added to her excitement as she clamped down on his cock as she
came again.

Tamin growled and bit down harder, his powerful jaw centimeters from
ending her life. Magic poured through his veins as he slammed into her,
each thrust forcing more of his knot into her sex. It ripped her open
and she tightened her muscles to force him to pound harder.

Her bones creaked from the impact of his magically-fueled strength. His
knot, huge and swollen, repeatedly slammed against her, dominating her
sex as his jaws dominated her breath.

She cried out and clutched him. (Harder, harder!)

With a howl, he drew back and slammed into her. His knot slid into her
entrance, stretching it painfully open, before he pulled back and struck
again and again. Each thrust punched into her body with a blast of pain
and ecstasy.

The agony of his teeth around her neck became a piercing pain as he bit
down harder and punched his cock into her. His knot ripped her open
before passing through the tightest ring of her body. With a slurp, it
sucked into her body and locked into place. His thrusts continued, but
his shaft barely moved in her sex and she was fucked around him,
becoming a sleeve for his cock.

He howled again as he came. His cock swelled and exploded inside her,
flooding cum into her tightly-stretched pussy. It jetted hard against
the entrance to her womb. He came again and again and soon she could no
longer feel the individual jets of passion but the growing sensation of
being filled.

He released her throat.

With a moan, Merrie slumped to the ground, held up by the cock buried in
her sex. Her body was slick with sweat and petals clung to her skin.
Looking up, she could see crimson blood dripping from his teeth and felt
it oozing along the bite marks on both sides of her neck.

The collar's regeneration flared to life and she reached up for him. (Be
with me, just for a little while?)

Love radiated from him as he sank down to his knees and then along her
body. His icy form draped over her, protective and sheltering as much as
it was dominating.

(I'll hump your face later.)

Merrie wrapped her arms around his neck. (Good. I've been a bad girl.)
The last thought was sent as a master and it rippled through her collar
and she came again. Her pussy clamped down on her full pussy and he
responded with a playful nip on her shoulder.

(Bitch.)

She smiled. (You're my bitch.)

(Until the day I die.)

They held each other as the caravan passed. The muted sounds of wheels
and horses was a counterpoint to the pressure in her sex and the
closeness of her lover. She dozed as she listened to it.

She loved the feeling when his knot grew soft enough for it to slip out.
It was a gentle release instead of the violent penetration. When they
were relaxed, it just shrank against her entrance, pulled back by his
softening cock. The pressure remained inside her body, like being
fisted, but it was a slow, sensual release when the knot finally slipped
out with a flood of cum.

(Alpha, have you ever thought about being bred?)

Merrie opened her eyes and stared up at the sun-dappled leaves above
her. (Not really. Customers like to pretend they're knocking me up. But,
I've never wanted children.)

(Puppies.)

She giggled and nipped his leg. She glanced over to the rose and
realized that the color had been leached out of the petals. They were
red when he first fucked her, but now they were white and the edges of
the leaves were crinkling. The smile faded from her lips. (Shadows corrupt.)

He followed her gaze. (Yes.)

(Rimmy and Kine never had children, despite being free with sex. I think
I'm the same way, touched by darkness.)

Tamin lifted his head and bared his white teeth. (Your blood runs crimson.)

(But for how long?) She reached up and kissed his muzzle. (And it
doesn't matter anymore. I will love you for as long as I can. You will
love me---)

(Until the day I die.)

(But I will never forget. Even when my blood becomes as black as yours,
you will always be my pack, my lover, and my friend.)

(And your bitch.)

She giggled. (And you will always,) she thought with a nip, (be my
little fuck bitch.)

He licked her and she giggled again, playfully trying to fend him off as
he lapped at her face, breasts, and sides. The playfulness faded as he
reached her sex and he began to gently clean her out, pushing her into
another orgasm before he finished.

Merrie sighed. (I wish we were just there.)

(Seven more days.)

(What happens then? Will they turn me away? Will they try to kill me? I
tried to kill them.) She rolled over on her knees, shaking her ass to
tease Tamin, and then up on all fours. (I cropped Haviston,) she thought
guilty.

(They all love you and they know about the compulsion. The most that
will happen is that Sable and Dixie will mount you like a bitch until
you beg for mercy.)

Merrie grinned. (They're going to do that anyways.)

(Yeah, but then I'm going to make Dixie my bitch.)

She started to laugh, or the best she could as a dog. (I want to watch
that.)

The drumming of horse hooves caught her attention. The caravan had
passed more than twenty minutes ago and she wasn't expecting to hear
anyone else on the road. Curious, she reached out to identify the rider.

It was Fang and he was desperately trying to catch up to the caravan.

Stunned, Merrie pulled away from Tamin and reached out. (Fang!)

His mind burst with panic and then fear. She flinched as she heard him
fall off the horse.

Shifting into hound form, she raced back to the road. She halted the
horse with a thought before she made it a few meters, but it took a few
moments for her to reach the bright, sun-lit road.

Fang was scrambling to his feet, rubbing his ass. "Why do people ever
ride horses?"

(What are you doing here?)

He gasped as he spun around. His eyes slipped past her and she realized
she had put up her shade spell reflexively.

She drew his attention with Presence as she crawled up. Reaching his
feet, she transformed back into a human and sat up. (Why are you here?)

Fang looked sick for a moment, then sat down heavily on the ground in
front of her. "I-I'm sorry, Bitch, but I had to come. I heard that you
left and," he flushed as he cleared his throat, "where you are going."

(Where I'm going... to the Mill?)

He looked away and nodded. "I'm sorry, but I... I..." He let out a
shuddering sigh and she saw tears glistening his eyes. "I need to see
her. One last time."

Merrie sniffed and rested her arm on his thigh. (I didn't mean for her
to die. I honestly---)

He waved his hand and then pulled her into a hug, crushing her against
his sweaty chest. "I know." He sniffed loudly. "I shouldn't have kicked
you out, it was just," he inhaled and sobbed, "I kept hoping she was
alive. I didn't move, I didn't quit my job, I didn't change anything in
hopes that she would come staggering back. And then, in a rush, I found
that she had been taken from me."

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, leaning her head to
the side so he could bury his face into her shoulder.

"I loved Sama so much. We were inseparable most of our lives. And
then... and then, she was just gone. And I lost everything." He sobbed
into her shoulder. "I can't stop thinking about her. I need, I need
something. I don't know what, but I need to do something to help this
ache in my chest."

Closing her eyes, Merrie held him tight. (Closure.)

"Yeah, that's what Kirin called it."

(Kirin?)

//He couldn't stop staring at that huge cock. It was bigger than his arm
and he couldn't imagine how anyone could handle that anything that
thick. It would tear---//

//"Fang? My eyes are up here." Kirin chuckled. "Or at least look at my
tits?"//

//Cheeks burning brightly, he tore his eyes away. "I'm sorry, that's
really, really distracting. I mean, do you stick---"//

//Kirin sipped from her glass. She was wearing a dark blue corset and
there was not hint that she had six symbols engraved into her chest. Her
cock rested against her thighs, a thick python of an inhuman manhood.
"Focus."//

//He gulped and nodded.//

//"Why do you want to find her?"//

//"B-Because she... she knew what happened to my sister. And she's going
to back there."//

//"What are you going to do? Hit Bitch? Blame her?"//

//"No! I would never..." Fang shook his head violently to emphasize the
point. "It wasn't her fault, I know that. That is why I helped with the
fight. Your people saw me there, I wasn't trying to hurt her."//

//"Then what, Fang?"//

//"Him. That man, the thriban."//

//"If you use that," she gestured to Fang's sword, "he will kill you."//

//"I know, I saw what he did to the guards and the paladins." He twisted
his fingers together. "But, what I saw in Bitch's memories, I think... I
don't think he would hurt me if I just punched him."//

//Kirin choked on her wine. It splattered on her breasts and thighs.
"You're going to punch a fallen paladin!? Not try to kill him, but just
punch him!"//

//He blushed. It sounded really stupid when he said it out loud. But, it
felt right when he came up with it during an all-guard briefing with the
paladins of Lemetri after the attack. "He won't kill me, but he'll
understand. It's... it's..."//

//"Closure."//

Fang gulped and clutched her. "I'm not going to die, am I?"

Merrie thought about the compassionate thriban who kidnapped and raped
her. He also loved her with all his heart, just like all the other
girls. He was tender and firm. There was a heart in Bass' chest that
wasn't snuffed out by his fall from grace. She turned so they were
looking eye to eye; she could see her own body reflected in his gaze and
she was startled by the only color left in her body, her bright blue
eyes. She kissed him. (Just tell him what you're going to do.)

He chuckled and gasped. "Just tell him I'm going to punch him?"

(I would, otherwise he might gut you. And... he'll understand. Of all
the people in the world, he'll understand.)

"A-And it's okay if I come with you?"

She kissed him again, soft and lingering. (Yes. Of course.)

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to his body.

"You know," he whispered, "you smell really nice."

**

Comments on my stories are the drugs that fuel my writing. I'm sure the
same is for all writers, so if you like a story, don't hesitate to send
even a quick note because that will fill me with warm, squirmy feelings
for days.

http://tsade.com/
http://tsade.com/contact

If you happen to like it, I have a couple hundred stories of all types
and themes on my website, including my BDSM fantasy novel: The Mummy's Girl.

http://tsade.com/mummy

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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