Chapter 4
Tara Antula
[NOTICE ~ This chapter contains weapon play. There is NO BLOOD. There are NO WOUNDS. No elves were harmed in the writing of this chapter.]
A light-hearted air filled Alorna's cozy caravan. It wasn't often that she had guests inside of it, as it was Alorna's only private place when on the road. Tonight, however, was quite different. The slaver had made a stop just outside of Désir, the capitol city of Rouge. This was a place of joy, its residents throwing large festivals, parades, and celebrations at least once a week. The buildings had bright paint splattered across their walls and warm inviting glows behind their windows. The streets were paved with chalky bricks of various colors and large lanterns lined the sidewalks, allowing people to enjoy the night for as long as they wished. Désir, and Rouge as a whole, was a peaceful place full of friendly and genuinely happy people. If Alorna had to choose a place to settle down, this would be it.
Most importantly, Désir was the hometown of Rouge's very own crime boss, Madame Beatrix Boudoir. The Madame runs the red light districts in not only Rouge, but the whole continent. Every brothel, bordello, and whorehouse dropped coin in her pocket. Unlike most of the crime lords in the seven kingdoms, those that paid Boudoir actually received protection. She made sure each and every one of her associates received proper security and the employees felt safe doing what they did. Some may argue that the Madame wasn't a criminal at all, but make no mistake, she's just as much of a cut throat as Alorna.
The pair of criminal power houses lounge atop Alorna's many pillows, sharing a hookah, bottle of orcish brandy, and laughter. It wasn't often Alorna got a chance to enjoy someone's company. She surrounded herself with those that feared her and she didn't particularly like those which kept their lips firmly pressed to her ass. Unfortunately, Alorna had a schedule to keep and it was time to do a little business with her old friend.
"Have you heard of The Earl's demise?" She asks. Her eyes rest upon Boudoir's always smiling a face, a softness in them that few got to see from Alorna. The Madame gave a small nod, raising her dark red eyebrows. "His whole compound got torched to the ground. A shame really."
"Oh yes, quite the shame," Boudoir agrees. "But what can you expect? Things like this happen when you make enemies with powerful people. The Earl had more of those than I can count." The Madame bites her lower lip, debating whether or not she should say what's on her mind. It's no secret that Alorna had problems with the thief and what she did to those that wronged her was even less of a secret. "A few of us, er, bosses among those enemies." Boudoir wrinkled her nose. She'd never liked the term 'Crime Boss' or being referred to as one. The word felt odd in her mouth and even stranger as it hit her ear. Of course, she enjoyed hearing Alorna say it in her quite posh accent, but she enjoyed hearing Alorna say just about anything. "You wouldn't happen to know any of the details, would you Alorna?"
"I would," Alorna admitted. A chuckle escaped Boudoir's throat, causing a small smirk to come to the slaver's lips. Everyone knew exactly who'd dealt with The Earl, but very few actually cared. He was a slimy thief with few friends and the higher ups were all glad to be rid of him. Some more than others. "But, as much as you know I love spending time with you, in this town, I am here on business. The Earl is dead and Ombre is without a Boss." Boudoir mouths the word 'boss' silently mimicking Alorna's accent. "I'm off to Araignée to discuss his replacement with Tara. The rest will make the trip to discuss it with her after I arrive, though I don't expect you'll leave Désir for even a moment."
"You know me well, Alorna," Boudoir confirms. "If you'd be a doll and deliver my recommendation when you see her, I'd be eternally grateful. I hear eternity is much longer for those of Elven blood as well, so that truly means something, no?" Alorna tilts her head. She can't help but smile when she speaks with Boudoir, as if the woes of the world simply disappear when the two are together. "Tell Tara, I do not care who replaces The Earl, so long as they know not to step on my toes." Alorna opens her mouth, but Boudoir holds a finger up. From most, this would be an insult worthy of death, but Boudoir is scatter brained and does it without malice. "Also, tell her to come visit Désir soon. Take a break from work." She points to Alorna. "You should come with her. Like old times."
"Simpler times," Alorna says, gently wrapping a hand around Boudoir's wrist. She lowers the Madame's pointing finger. "I'll be sure to tell her. One more thing, before I must leave. You know I can not take Ava to Araignée." Boudoir's eyes light up at the mention of Ava. She knew Alorna's personal slave well. In fact, she was the one who trained her to be the obedient pet to Alorna she was now. The Madame was much more skilled in teaching servants, while Alorna only knew how to break slaves. "I'd like to leave her with you, as a favor for me. I believe you still owe me a few, no?"
"I don't need to be indebted to you to watch after Lady Ava," Boudoir chuckled. "She's always welcome in my home. I'll even give her a refresher course on obedience!" She lays a hand upon one of Alorna's thick chocolaty thighs. But Araignée is quite the trip. Will you be ok without your Ava for that long? Would you like a replacement?" Alorna opens her mouth to answer, but Boudoir simply continues talking. "Not that anyone could replace Lady Ava, a little treasure that one. But surely you'd like a little company for the coming weeks, something different.
"You know, I just finished training new servant, male. Tall, tall, tall, not as tall as you, taller than me. I'm quite short, you see, so he towers before me with large muscles as well. He's the most beautiful shade of forest green, rough face, but most orcs have rough faces, nothing you can do about that. Biggest cock I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot. Thicker than my forearm and just as long, like a steed. I won't touch him, can't, but I think you could handle him, Alorna. Don't you enjoy Orcish men?" Alorna had to stop herself from licking her lips as Boudoir went on about her newest employee. It was true that she was partial to Orcish men, as most Elven women were, but as big as a horse?
"I think I'll be fine, for the time being, but I appreciate the offer, my sweet. Did you find a few new who-," Alorna stops herself. "A few new employees among my stables?" Boudoir nods, appreciating that Alorna kept herself from calling her people whores. To call those within her brothels whores, would be to call Boudoir one herself. There were few things Alorna could do to upset her friend, but that was one of them. The Madame saw her employees, as well as herself, as givers, lovers, never whores. "Have as many as you like, free of charge. What's a few coins among friends?" Alorna leans in and gives Boudoir a soft peck on the cheek. "Give that to Ava for me."
The Madame reaches out and gently strokes Alorna's cheek. "Oh, but who will do your paint if Ava won't be around?" The chocolate elf lets out a laugh, loud enough to carry outside of the caravan, and Boudoir happily joins her in laughter.
"I'll manage, somehow. May Karma bless you in any and all future endeavors." Boudoir rises, pulling her scarlet cloak snug around her shoulders.
"And Barena's blessings to you, dear friend." With that, the Madame pushes the caravan door open, letting a cool breeze in. The smell of smoking chimneys blows through the air, the sound of lively music in the distance. Boudoir allows Brick to help her out of the caravan and then into her own, much smaller one. Alorna leans back against the wall of her cozy room, drawing a lungful of strawberry smoke from her hookah as she enjoys the fresh air for a moment. Once satisfied, she exhales through her nose, letting the thick smoke curl out, filling the cabin and pouring from the open door. Brick pushes the door closed with a quiet click and the caravan begins moving towards Araignée.
Araignée is the exact opposite of Rouge. While Rouge is a happy, care free Kingdom, Araignée is a cramped, polluted place, plagued with industry. It's the largest of the seven and thrives off of coal and steam power. The buildings are behemoths made of twisted steel, casting constant darkness on the ground below them. Iron lampposts dot the streets, not nearly enough to actually illuminate the cities, burning harsh oil as they flicker a sickly green color. Criminals loom in the alleyways, waiting for sufficiently rich looking targets. Of course, not everything is bad in Araignée, but most things are simply dreadful. It's an awful place to live that's nearly completely taken over by crime.
In the center of the capitol is a tower which stands multiple stories above every other building in town. As it reaches for the sky, it twists in the middle. The steel its made of is painted midnight black and the mirrored windows glow red. If someone was trying to hide a criminal empire, operating from this building would not be the way to do it. Most people, however, were not Tara Antula. Tara's name commands as much fear in the common person as it does in royals. She's the crime boss that specializes in assassinations. The hand of her organization reaches throughout the kingdoms. Her presence is even felt among the residents of Magie, island Kingdom of magi. Only the dead may escape Tara's blade.
Alorna strides through the lobby, flanked by Brick, Mortar, and Aanlyn. As people see the chocolate skinned elf, their eyes go wide and they quickly move from her path, some even running to the opposite side of the room. Alorna pays them no mind, they're nothing to her. Low level assassins, as well as a few general office workers. Even criminals need normal employees sometimes, especially when there's a massive tower to upkeep. Those poor souls would be put through the ringer throughout the next few weeks. There wasn't anything Tara hated more than having to meet with the other Bosses. Unfortunately for her, Araignée sat in the center of the continent, making it the natural meeting place for the rest. That means Tara has to be the host for any all important business, even if she isn't involved.
Alorna and her trio of bodyguards enter a small room made entirely of brass. The door slides closed, looking more like a gate than an actual door, and the entire room shifts. The sound of steam spitting from pipes can be heard outside. The creaking and crunching of gears grinding together surrounding the four. The room outside of the door begins sliding down, giving way to another room, which follows suit and slides down as well. Aanlyn falls against a wall, nauseous as the room feels as if it's swinging. Alorna lays a hand on Brick and Mortar's backs. She leans forward, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to the cold metal of Mortar's armor.
Regardless of how many times she uses this 'elevator' contraption, it turns her stomach every time. She feels ill and can barely stand, her knees weak with the unnatural movement. Still, Alorna can't be seen losing her lunch by anyone. It's part of the reason she got herself a pair of massive bodyguards, so that she may hide behind them for such occasions. And, as the elevator lurches to a stop at the absolute top of the tower, Aanlyn spills out of it, falling on the ground. She groans, green in the face. Brick steps out to help her back up to her feet, letting her cling to him. Mortar and Alorna stay in the elevator for a few moments longer as the elf breathes deep, slow breaths. She clears her throat, standing tall once more, and gives Mortar's back a gentle push. He steps out, followed by his employer, who looks as if the elevator ride hadn't phased her in the slightest.
The top floor of Tara's tower is reserved for very few people. Tara herself, as well as her personal assistant, are the only ones allowed to regularly frequent it. Then come the bosses, who are only allowed there on rare occasions. The entryway is a large, nearly empty room. Tara's assistant sits behind a large desk. Her elbow is planted on the polished wood, cheek resting against the heel of her palm as she stares at some book or another. Behind her is a wall of tinted glass. All that can be seen through these useless windows are the vague shapes of what lies inside of Tara's office.
"No visitors today, Lady Antula is-" The assistant looks up and sees Alorna. She goes silent, her eyes widening, a lump forming in her throat. The poor girl, who looks as if she's seen a ghost, sits up slowly, her hand visibly shaking as she lowers it to the desk. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. Alorna comes forward, walking right up to the office door and pulling it open. She immediately steps to the side, a dagger soaring over her shoulder and embedding itself into the brass walls of the elevator.
"What a way to greet someone," Alorna tuts, entering the office. She closes the door behind her, locking her trio of bodyguards out. Aanlyn stares, dumbfounded. She had no idea the Crime Bosses struck so much fear in those around them. Even Madame Boudoir, who seemed so kind, caused people to flee at the mere sight of her carriage. To Brick and Mortar, this was business as usual, but Aanlyn simply couldn't fathom the kind of effect the higher ups had on their subordinates. Kings and Queens were met with respect and open arms, but these people...
"I said no visitors!" Tara roared, turning to the door. She's a small woman with pointed ears. Though not a dark elf as Alorna is, Tara seems to be of Elven blood as well. She doesn't tower as the slaver does, but instead stands quite low to the ground. She looked to be shorter than most human women, and much thinner. Her limbs were long and thin, her bottom quite large for her small frame. Her chest is completely flat, encased in snug leather armor. She shares the same sharp chin and pointed ears as Alorna, but her ears aren't nearly as long as Alorna's. Her eyes are much thinner. They glow bright blue, blazing with anger, and her short hair is bleached a deadly white. A pair of short knives hang from her right hip, a sash of pockets filled with all sorts of nasty poison across her chest.
"I figured I'd be an exception," Alorna sighs, looking towards the door. She turns the lock with a quiet click and looks back. Tara no longer stands at the other side of the room. Instead she's right in front of Alorna, her movements silent as she glares up at the chocolate elf. In her left hand she grips one of those short knives, holding it threateningly close to Alorna's neck. Tara moves it forward, slowly, pressing the cold steel to the slaver's soft flesh. "It's nice to see you again, after so long, Sister." Tara doesn't answer for some time, keeping the knife pressed against Alorna. She shakes, not with fear, but with rage. Her already pale knuckles are white as she clenches the knife, daring herself to just do it.
"You offend me, Sister," Tara hisses, pulling her knife away. She deftly plunges it back into its sheath, quickly placing her bare hand to Alorna's neck instead. "Problems with the Earl, eh, eh? Should have called me, would've loved to wipe that smug prick's life away. You know that." The assassin clenches her jaw, baring her teeth like a rabid dog, ready to attack. Of course, she can't. One false move and the curved dagger Alorna has pressed to her ribs will pierce her cold black heart. Neither woman is stupid. They both know the other is a cold blooded killer that won't hesitate to slaughter a friend if they needed to.
"You know I would have called upon you, if I could have, but you're a hard woman to reach," Alorna explains, her voice calm, soothing as it hits the short tempered assassin's pointed ears. Tara lets out a quiet snarl in response. "Besides, there are some jobs one simply can't outsource. The world knows you're someone to fear and gets reminded of that everyday. The Earl had forgotten my reputation and I needed to remind him myself. Everyone would think less of me if I called upon you and yours to do my dirty work." Alorna adds, "Even you would have lost respect for me, had I not dealt with it myself."
Tara huffs, removing her hand from Alorna's neck. The little wood elf turns away, showing her back to Alorna, something she does for no one, and walks to a large sofa. Alorna follows behind her, golden heels sinking into the soft carpet with each step. The sofa sits in front of a window that makes up the entire exterior wall and lets the pair look down on the city before them. They take a seat, Alorna sinking into the pillowy cushions while Tara barely makes an imprint. "I have missed you as well, Sister," Tara admits, staring out the window. She doesn't look at the sprawling city, but at the sky, cloudy with smoke.
"I never said I missed you," Alorna teases the younger elf. Tara looks over and they share a small smile. "I saw Bea, just before coming here. She, unfortunately, won't be making the journey out to this Hell hole. She instead sends her regards, and offers you a warm place to stay, if you ever wish to visit her in Désir." Tara nods, pulling her legs up onto the sofa and folding them underneath her. "But I've brought her recommendation for The Earl's replacement, as well as my own." Alorna pauses, looking into Tara's eyes. They're still full of anger, but they always are. She's an angry little woman. "Has anyone else made it here yet?"
"None of those fools dare come here before you and Bea," Tara says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Not that I want them here at all, but they know that if the two of you aren't the first, they'll get their throats slit. Especially after that stunt you pulled, causing all of this. You know I hate meeting with the others, Sister. They're scum and I want nothing to do with them." Alorna reaches out and runs a calming hand through Tara's hair. The wood elf closes her eyes and leans closer, her guard slowly getting lower and lower as she sits beside her friend. She slides closer to the slaver and lays against her, cheek resting against Alorna's soft breast.
"I'll be here for the process. You simply need to allow us to use your office and I'll do the rest," Alorna assures her. Tara nods, rubbing her cheek into the chocolate elf's chest. It isn't often that Tara shows vulnerability of any kind, but, for whatever reason, her tough exterior seems to melt when Alorna or Madame Boudoir are around her. She becomes something closer to the carefree wood elf she was before getting tied up in this world of crime and corruption. "Bea's suggestion is the same as when Drogue lost its boss. Someone who doesn't impede her own operations."
"Of course," Tara says, her voice soft as she gets wrapped in Alorna's perfume. She inhales deeply, enjoying the warm scent for a moment. It's far nicer than the smell of smoke and burning coals that chokes Araignée. "And what of you? Do you care who takes The Earl's place? Or perhaps you're looking for a more... permanent residence in Ombre. You do quite a bit of business there and I'm sure no one would bat an eye if you took over."
"I won't say I haven't toyed with the idea," Alorna sighs, holding out a hand. She stares at her long nails and the many rings on each of her slender fingers for a moment. "But my home is in Rouge. All my things are in Rouge and moving them to Ombre would be such a hassle. Besides, it's much easier to be on the move in my line of work. I can't have people coming to my home to conduct business. That'd be just dreadful." Alorna runs a hand up and down Tara's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It should be someone useful to us, more useful than some two-bit thief."
"What's left? We have assassins, slaves, whores, magi, drugs, poachers, and arms dealers. This is why you should take Ombre, Sister. With my help we could even get rid of the monarch and put you in a cozy castle." Tara opens her eyes and looks up at Alorna, pressing her chin to the dark elf's large breast. Alorna stares out at the city. If she so pleased, she could give in to Tara's suggestions and take over Ombre with little trouble. Perhaps march in Orakh's men and assist them in taking over the kingdom for an even more comfortable life. A life serving under an Orcish conqueror.
The thought made Alorna's heart flutter, but she quickly came back to her senses. She was no servant and would surely get bored of that life mere moments after it began. However, being the Queen of Ombre would allow her to live a lavish and care-free life. Hand her slave trade over to one of her more trustworthy associates, perhaps Mortar, and simply take a cut. "I'm not interested," Alorna decides. "I'm not a sedentary being. I must remain in motion. The few weeks I'll spend here, figuring out The Earl's replacement, will be awful enough. A life in Ombre would cause me to lose my mind. Quickly." She purses her lips, thinking for a moment. "Mercenaries." Tara raises her eyebrows.
"Are mercenaries even criminals?"
"Of course. The Kingdoms are at peace and mercenaries aren't peaceful beings. Without war, there's no reason for anyone other than criminals to hire mercenaries, plain and simple." Alorna looks to Tara. She'd, of course, planned this from the moment she decided to get rid of The Earl. "Speaking of mercenaries, I have a gift for you." Alorna returns her gaze to the outside world. "A few Crimson Boar travel among my convoy and I've grown... tired of their company." Tara sits up. "Judging from your past affairs with the Boar, I figured you may enjoy disposing of them for me."
"I want all the Boar dead, Sister," Tara hisses, the rage flaring up in her eyes at the mention of the mercenary company. "Not just a few low level pukes."
"Do you honestly think I'd accept low level members of their band into my convoy. Weak links break a chain." Alorna looks to Tara. "The members that travel with me are directly connected to the head of the Boar. If anyone knew where he's holed up, it'd be them." Tara kept her gaze locked with Alorna's, her breathing coming slowly. Her tongue pushed between her lips, licking them slowly as they turned into a grin. Satisfied that Tara would be tying the loose ends that are Kanabo and the Boar, Alorna plucks a small pendant from her neck. It's in the shape of a bird cage, an ethereal blue light glowing within. "For your troubles."
The cage drops into Tara's hand. The assassin stares at it. Tara was a simple girl, who didn't enjoy flashy jewelry nearly as much as Alorna, so she didn't quite understand why this would be considered payment. But, as she stared at it longer and longer, sound drained from the world around her. The silence was replaced by a familiar voice. They didn't say anything, instead they screamed and wailed with pain. It was the voice of The Earl, Tara's least favorite person in the world. Well, now that title belonged to the leader of the Boar, but before he died, The Earl's mere existence enraged Tara.
Alorna places a hand over the cage, breaking Tara's trance. Her eyes snap back to the dark elf's. "I have many friends, some of whom consort with demons." Tara's smile grows larger. "For your troubles, Sister," Alorna repeats with a small nod. Tara leans in, pressing her lips to Alorna's. She slides her slender arms over the curvy elf's shoulders, pressing her chest into Alorna's heavy bust. The two embraced one another, Tara's tongue pushing passed Alorna's soft, pouty lips. Alorna smiles, grabbing Tara's chin between her thumb and index finger. She pushes the assassin away, breaking the kiss. "Strip for me," She commands.
Tara offers another kiss before standing. She doesn't hesitate to start undoing buckles. Her many weapons clatter to the ground. The sound of glass breaking can be heard as bottles crack against each other, exploding in the leather pouches that contain them. She pulls her chest plate free, tossing it carelessly to the side, displaying her bare chest to Alorna. A large tattoo of a spider crawls up the right side of her rib cage, stopping just before her perky breasts. Bright pink nipples stand on point. Tara runs her hands over her body, squeezing herself, breaths coming faster as Alorna eyes her body.
Alorna slides the shoulders of her dress down, revealing her dark chocolate nipples, each one pierced with a polished golden bar. She sits back, watching Tara wiggle out of her tight leather trousers. The wood elf is thin, yet bottom heavy, a body Alorna enjoys to see in women. She runs a hungry gaze of the lithe assassin, running the tip of her tongue along her upper lip. Her eyes rest on the patch of soft hair just above Tara's snug lips. It isn't unkempt, but it clearly hasn't been trimmed in quite some time. "You wood elves are so dirty," Alorna breathes as she curls a finger, beckoning her forward. Tara doesn't hesitate.
Moving quickly, she finds herself on her knees before Alorna, face pressed into those soft breasts. She takes one of those thick, pierced nipples in her mouth, flicking her tongue against it before sinking her teeth in. She doesn't bite hard, just enough for Alorna to gasp. Her free hand gropes the chocolate elf's other breast, squeezing it firmly. Her fingers sink pleasantly into the doughy flesh, so pale against Alorna's creamy brown skin. Tara pulls back slowly, letting her teeth drag against the sensitive nub, pulling it with her lips before letting it pop free of her mouth. Alorna shivers, moans escaping her lips as the little wood elf teases her like this.
Before Alorna can stop her, Tara moves in for another taste. This time she opens her mouth wide and takes in more of her big tit. Tara sinks her teeth in, biting into Alorna's soft flesh, much harder than she did to her nipple. She moans, letting her jaw tense, latching on. She doesn't want to hurt the slaver, but she can't resist leaving a mark. A ring of teeth marks should satisfy her. As she keeps biting into her, Tara's agile tongue flicks against Alorna's nipple, teasing and toying with it. Alorna writhes in place, breathing fast, feeling the painful bite quickly turn into pleasure. Grabbing the back of Tara's head, Alorna presses her breast against the assassin's hungry mouth, smothering her in a wall of pillowy dark flesh.
The air grows thin as Alorna holds her in place. Her pale cheeks flushing red, hand squeezing firmer and firmer as she can't seem to catch a new breath of air. Still Tara stays locked in place, not wanting to let go. Her vision going blurry, black spots slowly appearing. She unclenches her jaw and Alorna releases her. Tara falls back, gasping, gulping down a lungful of air as she feels the slaver catch her arm. Not letting her get away, Alorna plants a hand on Tara's stomach, lifting her in the air for a split second and tossing her on the sofa.
Alorna grabs her legs and forces them open. "Come here you filthy filthy little knife ear," Alorna hisses. Tara gasps at the playful insult, but doesn't have time to throw one of her own back. Alorna buries her face between Tara's legs. Her small nose presses into that soft patch hair, lips kissing her cute little clit. Alorna's long tongue snakes out, running along Tara's snug lips. The heavy ruby piercing laid upon it, splitting the snug little lips.
"Nyahhhnnn," Tara whines out, closing her eyes tight. She clamps her powerful legs on either side of Alorna's head, already a quivering mess. It'd been quite some time since she'd had anyone between her legs. Though it seemed Alorna had practiced servicing another woman quite recently. As she flicked her tongue against Tara's clit, careful not to let her piercing thump against it. Alorna presses her pouty lips around it, kissing deeply before making her way further down. She sucked at Tara's snug lips, nipping gently at them, tasting the hot drool coming from her friend.
Tara's breaths come fast, chest rising and falling with the erratic beat of her heart. Alorna's hand hits the ground, patting around the soft carpet as she blindly searches. She keeps her eyes on Tara's sweet little face. She was quite cute when she got all red like that. Alorna feels what she's searching for and wraps her hand around it. One of Tara's knives. As she keeps tonguing the wood elf's snug box, she picks it up. With a flick of her wrist, she sends the sheath flying across the room and quickly presses the cold steel to one of Tara's thighs. Tara goes stiff, opening her eyes, looking down at Alorna.
She watches Alorna sliding the side of the knife along her leg, teasing her with it, almost threateningly. Alorna chuckles, kissing Tara's inner thighs. "Mmm, remember pressing this to my neck?" She coos. "I heard there's a major artery in one's thigh. Let's test it!" With that Alorna turns the blade and slides it quickly across Tara's leg. The assassin squeals, her entire body tensing. She pants, her legs squeezing around Alorna's head. Her pretty pink cunt sprays liquid lust into the chocolate elf's face. Tara falls back, panting, sweating, shaking. "You're too easy," Alorna teases, kissing her way up Tara's stomach.
Tara looks back down, her entire body still shaking, goosebumps rising along her pale skin as she rides her orgasm out. On her leg, where Alorna dragged the blade, is a small red mark. A smile comes across her face, a laugh of relief, as well as embarrassment escaping her lips. Of course Alorna had only dragged the flat of Tara's blade against her skin. "So easy," Alorna tuts again. She runs the cold steel of the dagger up Tara's side, making the assassin twitch beneath her. Alorna plants a gentle kiss on Tara's cheek, tapping the tip of the blade to her neck. "If I were going to kill you, I wouldn't leave a single blemish on your perfect porcelain skin. I'm not a monster." The pair shared a smile and Alorna set the dagger back on the ground.
She slid her arms beneath Tara, pulling the wood elf's small frame into her curvy body. Their lips met once more. The two all-powerful crime bosses lay like that for quite some time, simply enjoying one another's warmth. Alorna was glad to finally be able to relax after her long journey from Eastdrift. Tara's tower was one of the few places in this world she was truly safe. A place littered with assassins, imagine that.
No comments:
Post a Comment