Quick Disclaimer: I have never posted anything I wrote, but I thought to give it a try as I’d like to practice writing and stretch my imagination – sexy bits are a plus to keep myself hooked on the project! XD
I’ll try to develop this into a cohesive story arc
“ Beware, child, of the nights in this city” rasped the old greasy ferryman.
I could easily guess how many drinks he chugged of whatever concoction he was smuggling.
I look at him and, mustering all the condescense I am able, I raise an inquiring brow.
“ It’s the knights, my child, the knights…”
He had this way of talking, oozing the words out like he was puking them.
Only such a distasteful presence could worsen the bleak landscape our raft was traveling through.
I cross my legs as I wait for him to continue: “ Bewick used to be a fine town before their new master took over”
I almost scoff at that word: “ Fine? You must be talking about your ‘ business’. I heard of nothing but boondocks and slums this south of Dolonde.”
His hands grip the helm as I catch his eyes darting towards the barrels next to me.
“ No need to get worked up, old man. What you do for a living is of no concern to me.” And I turn to look towards my image in the placid waters.
“ Hmm, so you say…” Utters at my back.
“ You sound like someone who’s been around, my dear.” I pout my lips as I ignore him, gently piercing their luscious reflection on the lake’ surface.
“ What brings you here anyways?” Bored as I am, I begin to doze off as silence mercifully widens the distance between us.
“ … Forgive me if my poking about has offended you, my dear. I can tell you’ve seen enough to know where you’re going, and I never had the pleasure of such an interesting…” I yawn and sink between my shoulders, bending overboard just enough to feel any comfort on the splintery edge.
“ … and, if I’m not too impudent… lovely company” I smirk as I feel his glare dribbling down my hind.
“ Hmm…” this grunt the last thing I suffer hearing from him before I fall asleep.
…
I awake to the acrid smell of rotten fish and the muffled sound of an alcoholic stumble.
I draw my breath as I sense the wayfarer’s lustful groping for my ass.
“ … we’re not there yet, my darling…” his dull fingers meddling with my corset, I sigh and calmly reach for the laces “ I hope there’s enough time to make up for your tedious acquaintance…” a gulp follows my whispering, loud enough to tell me it’s been a while for him.
I bite my lips and calmly rub against his pubis, warmth fills my body with excitement at the hardness I feel.
“ Oh darling… I’m sure it’ll be enough to teach you some manners” snorts he, as his coarse hands begin to avidly explore under my garments and I, impatiently, guide them where I need.
“ Grope like you mean it, you sniveling rascal” I spout, my legs steadfastly wrapped around a moldy barrel with my breasts flared up by his sudden grip.
A filthy old man taking advantage of me, I can’t help but blushing as thoughts go to all my waiting, all my longing for such a thrill.
A tongue gets carried away by desire and plunges between my thighs, my teeth force themselves into the skin but I cannot stop them, seeping and slithering I feel its spittle loosening me as more goes adrift.
My wimpy moan is suffocated with the smack of his lips tightening around me, whiskers as sharp as horsehair, smearing inside what feels like all the moisture of the lake.
I thrust the pie he’s voraciously eating against him, demanding more.
His musk reaches first, setting my skin on fire as he forces me to fasten around the thickness, slowly grinding through whatever prerogative of modesty I had left, I surrender my decency to his rigid chastisement, over and over again, now raptured to a plundering flight, now soaring to peaks of vigorous gushes, stormed and firmly pinned down with a steely clench, gorging gallons of him with resign and pleasure, with an elated cry I meet my very remission.
…
Thanks to his connections, we make into the muddy shores of a would-be harbour without any more trouble than the swollen lip I caused myself.
I hop on the dock and begin to stretch, basking in a somewhat invigorating stench.
“ Curses!” He slurs as he unloads my possessions next to me “ what makes it so heavy?” says glaring at the locked chest.
“ That would be my business, ferryman” I kneel and tap its top three times with three fingers, then I effortlessly bring the whole chest over my shoulder and stand, looming over the old man from atop the dock “ I’m confident it will remain so” I add bothered, taking my leave into the late day’s fog.
“ … w-wait! You haven’t even told me your name!” His thick accent rasping in my ears, and, as I glance back, I laugh “ you think you’re worthy of ‘ that’ much? Drown your infatuation with the muddy brew you’re carrying, old man!” loud enough for other petty fishermen to hear, his pestering immediately halts, and I don’t need my eyes to tell he’s shrinking into his ragged coat.
“ That wench!” I hear him muttering “ I should’ve taught her a harsher lesson” I leave him behind along with the miserable marina of Bewick, wondering if he could ever accomplish such a feat.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kpl0t1/slaves_of_darkness_of_mighty_alysr_1