ffmm

Flasher steps back to look at the setup of the room; a wide padded mat to handle anything the girls can dish out on one another, colour coded corners and shoulder bands, a few oils (as wishful thinking), and most importantly three video cameras, each with HD resolution and automatic focus, perfect for capturing every heart pounding and intimate moment for replay at his leisure later. Rubbing his hands together expectantly, he checks his handiwork for the umpteenth time, inspect the cameras again. Tonight he’ll have a front row seat as Apple and Victoria tussle for supremacy, and no matter the outcome of their match, he’s in for a treat either way. With the victor claiming her opponent and her man as spoils he’ll get to sample the lascivious chocolate curves of Victoria and the tight athletic body of Apple.



There’s a knock on the door and Flasher stumbles over himself in his haste to answer it. Hurrying over, he calls out, “Who is it?” A polite male voice responds, “It’s us,” he’s interrupted by a muffled giggle before he continues, “John and Victoria.” Flasher smiles to himself as he opens the door. John stands at the door, a pleasant smile on his face. He nods to Flasher before turning to Victoria and beckoning her to enter first. Stepping inside, Victoria encompasses Flasher’s vision like an eclipse, amazingly beautiful but just as painful to look at directly. Walking past him, she flashes him a sultry smile and strides into the room confidently. John gives another nod to Flasher as he enters the room as well, stepping to the side as he begins to rummage through a duffel bag.



As Victoria takes in the room, Flasher takes in Victoria starting from the ground up. She wears an open toed sandal-shoe with a small heel; it’s not much but enough to give her the lift to showcase her shapely legs. Legs that seem to go on forever as Flasher traces them with his eyes until his view is cut off by the magnificence of her ass.



It was wide, it was thick, it was large, and whilst similar sized posteriors spoke of flabby excesses of cellulite, this was something that had been worked on, trimmed and toned, sculpted and moulded, excising any imperfections until what remained was in short, booty. Every step resulted in a gratuitous, yet controlled bounce. She moved in a sultry mesmerising rhythm that made young men feel the need to take a few cold showers whilst old men would loosen their collars and wish for younger days. A poet could write sonnet after sonnet on its magnificence, its movements, and most of all, its magnitude. Anything else would end up under plain covers. The overall effect was calculated to hit the male libido like a freight train of sex.



Finally making it past her ass, Flasher made it into curve country. He knew he was staring, but remained mesmerized as his gaze travelled up along every inch of her hourglass figure in eager anticipation of what was next in store.



“Like what you see hun?” the voice wasn’t so much accusing as it was amused. Flasher’s gaze snapped up the last few inches to look at Victoria who was looking straight at him, smiling unnervingly as walked towards him. “So now that you’ve had your eyeful tell me this hun… do you feel the need for a cold shower…” she drew level with him, languorously draping an arm over his shoulder pulling him close, “Or a hot fuck?” Her voice sent shivers up and down his spine and it didn’t help matters that now her breasts were barrelling right into his chest. Flasher knew he was getting an erection and frankly, that wouldn’t have concerned him too much with Victoria coming onto him as she was. What did make it awkward was that John was patiently standing by, watching them impassively. The thought struck Flasher that Victoria’s husband wasn’t worried, and had no reason to worry especially if what Victoria claimed what was in his pants was accurate.



Stiffening a little more at this though, Flasher was nether-the-less unnerved at John’s patience. Thankfully, Apple chose to enter the fray at that exact point in time, defusing things with the tact of an arthritic demolition man, “Well, well, looks like zeppelin-tits is trying to sway the judge’s opinion from the get go.” Apple and Victoria’s eyes meet. They smile at one another in a friendly way but Apple’s eyes tell a different story, shooting Vicky a look that says, ‘Oh no you didn’t.’ Victoria returns it with a look of her own that states, ‘Oh yes I did. AND I’d do it again too.’



This silent exchange completed Apple sniffs and breaks eye contact with Victoria, turning away airily. Her gaze falls on John, sitting there peacefully oblivious to the girl’s exchange, and Apple smiles. Following her line of sight, Vicky’s eyes narrow as she glares at Apple sending the message, ‘Don’t even dare.’ But Apple is neither looking, nor in a receptive mood as she strides over to John, a wicked gleam in her eye. She calls back to Victoria over her shoulder, “Right then, since you’ve gone after my husband, I might as well go after yours,” Apple faces towards John and gives him a smile, “Come on then lover boy, face front. I want your eyes on me and I need you to watch every move I make.” Victoria turns to watch Apple suspiciously, an eyebrow twitching but she smirks and leans back, keeping an arm wrapped meaningfully around Flasher.



Confident that all eyes were on her, Apple began her little strip show. Even before she removed a single piece of clothing, Apple was already showing a substantial amount of skin. As she turned to face Victoria giving her a wink that set the black girls teeth on edge, she bent forward provocatively thrusting her prizewinning ass up into John’s lap. It was indeed as toned and as trim as had advertised, and it was all wrapped up in a pair of denim hot pants that looked hot enough to start smoking any minute as they barely managed to restrain their contents.



Then there was her choice in make-up. If you wanted to be polite about it, you could say it gave her a sexual edge that would stir the loins of any man. On the other hand, if you wanted to be truthful about it, you’d have to admit that it made her look slutty… but in a way that hinted that a sexual edge was but the tip of her abilities.



However, even though she had her ass pressed into John’s lap it was her top was where all the attention was. She was wearing a fairly simple white vest top, which was revealing enough as it was, but add to the fact that it was nearly sheer enough to see her skin through it added magnitudes of sexual appeal to it. Pulling it even tighter against her, she slowly worked it up her body revealing bit by bit, a lean little set of abs. As his gaze followed the steadily rising fabric, John’s eyebrows peaked up some as she slid the fabric to a halt along the underside of her breasts. Apple smiled seductively down at him, watching him for a few moments, building the pause up… until she pulled the top up in one swift movement and revealed her precious tits. At least, that’s what it looked like. Although not overtly large, Apple’s pert little apples were huge compared to the slim steak of nothing that constituted for a top. A miniscule bright red triangle bikini, held together by a slip of red shoestring, which barely contrived in covering her nipples.



She gives the thin straps an adjustment, putting herself in jeopardy of a nipple slip with even the slightest of touches. Reaching behind her to the delicate knot which holds the two fine straps in place, she gives it a little pluck before sidling up to John to pause her little striptease with an equally provocative lap dance as she shows of her body.



As John observes Apple prepare, he notes that she fits in just as much sexuality and vivacity as Victoria, only in a smaller package. Watching her stretch and flex, showing off her pert tits, he realizes that although neither as tall, nor broad, nor as busty as Victoria, it would have been unwise to think that Apple was merely a scaled down model when it came to her allure. Instead, it was more accurate to view her as equally attractive simply compressed to fill a smaller mould and looks ready to be unleashed.



And unleash was what was about to happen as Apple’s attention turned back to her shorts. With amount of skin they showed, it was inconceivable to imagine anything beneath them except bare flesh. However, as the denim was slowly peeled away, they revealed what had to of been the slimmest, skimpiest, most threadlike bright red bikini bottom in existence. Her shoestring top looked downright prudish in comparison. Even Flasher, wrapped up in the arms of Victoria, took notice of his wife’s change of attire. Victoria was impressed as well Apple’s transformation but tried to wave it off, commenting, “Something as skimpy as that would never last on my tits,” but her words were lost as the pants were slowly stripped and then lifted triumphantly, giving them a wave towards Victoria with a smirk before turning back to John, dangling them precariously on one finger.



Finally, Apple discarded her final article of clothing, dropping it daintily to the side. Placing a foot alongside John’s seat showing off her strong toned legs and struck a pose for him, completely nude save the scanty snatches of rich red fabric that barely covered her nipples and pussy. She fingered the shoestring strap over her shoulder and gave John a seductive smile, “So what do you think hun?” You could have heard Victoria wince at this. Flasher certainly felt it as circulation to his arm was momentarily cut off.



John rose to the occasion like a champ and gave Apple an award-winning smile, “Very nice, very revealing. Seeing you like this, I’m sure Flasher counts his blessing to have you as his wife.” Pensive for a moment, he nodded and continued, “And the colour red too; a smart bit of psychological warfare there. But yes, all in all very attractive. It’s nice.”



Apple blinked, at a loss for words, she’d been half expecting him to pop a massive boner and start rubbing his hands all over her uncontrollably. Or at the very least the aforementioned boner, with him staring at her with his jaw open, possibly gibbering as well. She honestly hadn’t expected him to be so… polite, or respectful. He was even looking her in the eye. And to make it worse, she could feel Victoria’s triumphant eyes on her.



Realizing something was amiss, John wisely figured that something more was expected from him, “Uh, it’s very appealing and does well to emphasize your figure.” There was a snort from Vicky that Apple carefully tried to ignore, though Flasher did take a quick peek at her trembling cleavage as she tried not to laugh. John was impossible! There simply couldn’t be a guy as, as, as, impossible as he was. “So you like my figure then?” Apple tried a little more seduction but her heart wasn’t in it. John smiled again as he struck out for the shores of honesty in the midst of these uncertain waters, “It’s very nice. Petite. Very youthful.”



At this, Victoria’s laughter broke through, giving Flasher a spectacular show of her bouncing breasts. “Oh yes, you look very nice little girl. But now let me show you how a woman does it hun.” Victoria now had the lime light and she was going to exploit it to the fullest of her abilities. Flashing Apple a winning smile, she turned to face Flasher. “Alright then hun,” she tracks the palm of her hand across his face, turning his head to face her head-on, and then readjusts his view downwards, “Looks like you’ve one a first class striptease by yours truly, you lucky dog.” Her hand tracks down his neck and onto his chest, pulling at his shirt. Her head moves in breathing on his neck heatedly while she pushes her chest against his. Her bare cleavage barrels into him, pressing against his exposed skin erotically. Her leg moves up his, kicking her shoes off and caressing his inner thigh with her knee as she intertwines her leg with his.



Balancing on one leg precariously, Vicky twists herself around Flasher like a possessive vine around a wavering tree. Snaking another arm around him and down his back, she plays her nails down his spine, jerking him upright, “That’s right, let’s get the rest of you at attention…” Even at point blank range, Flasher has no clue how she’s able to make his entire body feel as though it’s being touched, and at the same time, having shed her shoes, jacket, and the miniskirt over her jeans. She still had her top on, but it was looking wonderfully dishevelled, and the aforementioned jeans had already begun to slide down her hips. As her body coiled around his, he felt, but never quite saw, as more of her clothes dropped. He reflected that Victoria’s breasts were making things more erotic. Gorgeous in their own right, when ‘up close and in your face’ their size blocked his view of what was happening to her (and his) lower regions.



Apple had a clear view of the proceedings, and was just as perplexed as to how Victoria could have her legs up and around her husband’s waist, and the next moment her jeans were piled around her ankles. She tried to follow an article of clothing as Victoria writhed and gyrated against Flasher (who, to her chagrin, was far more responsive than John was), but Vicky took that opportunity to turn and begin rocking her ass up and down against his erection. She watched as this continued for a few moments, with Vicky guiding Flashers hands to grip her waist.



As Flasher began to buck against Victoria energetically, Apple realized that the strip tease had degenerated into dry humping, and with half of Victoria’s clothes of, it wouldn’t take much more to result in bare sex. She opened her mouth to protest but John beat her to the punch, giving a polite, but firm cough. Leaning forward as she ground herself back against Flasher, Victoria looked up at John’s polite smile. Saying nothing she straightened up, had the decency to give an embarrassed smile, giving a half turn so both audiences could see the finale of her show. With that, she stripped the last dregs of her clothes, revealing a scarlet micro-bikini and matching G-string thong. It was probably a size or two larger than Apple’s, but that meant nothing as Victoria was a few sizes larger than Apple regardless. The difference was astonishing. Whereas Apple’s ultrafine monofilament more or less matched her proportions, Victoria’s lingerie was at capacity as it barely contained her full orbs. Her breasts literally strained at the flimsy material as they tried to burst free. She swivelled her hips to show off her G-string…



Her lack of G-string that is… most had been swallowed between her voluptuous ass cheeks. Having shed her clothes haphazardly around Flasher, Victoria now stood proudly with her hands over her head, showing of every curve for him, “Huh? So what do you think hun? Pretty good right?” Flasher tried to play it as cool as John, he really did, but Vicky had that sexual magnetism that drew out even the most repressed desires. He gibbered. To his credit, it wasn’t much, but Vicky eagerly accepted it for more than what it was, “Hmm, pretty good gibbering hun, pretty good. Your gabbling could use a little more work, but the open mouth is a nice touch, and, what’s this?” She reached out and touched his chin, turning his unresisting head to the side, “My! And even some drooling as well? Don’t you know how to make a girl feel special hun?” Snapping out of his trance, Flasher shut his mouth, straightening up as he guilty wiped the back of his fist across to remove any traces of saliva.



Alright, he may have had his mouth open some, and gibbered out a couple of words, but he didn’t blabber on and on, and he certainly hadn’t been drooling. Even so, he still shied away from Apples ferocious gaze. He needn’t have worried about her though; it was Victoria who was the focus of her blowtorch glare. If looks could kill indeed…



It was at this John gently lifted Apple off his lap, and stood, “Well since the ladies are all sorted, shall we once over the rules and then commence the match?” He was met with silence. He pressed on undaunted, “Yes? No? There isn’t anything more to reveal right? Correct me if I’m mistaken, but that’s to be left to the ladies to settle in-ring. So, shall we begin?”



“Hold on, here’s a thought…” there was a pause as all eyes fell on Apple, “Well the guys have already gotten their kicks by getting to watch me strip down. And I suppose Vicky as well. But, how about they give us something in return? Something that everyone will enjoy?” She walks over to where Flasher had so cunningly thought he had hid the oils and picks up two bottles, and turns back, “So how about we get our guys to oil us up?” She flashes a smile and Victoria returns it. Maybe a little female solidarity was in order before they went at each other; there were such things as civility after all.



Victoria glances over briefly to John and Flasher before returning her focus onto Apple, smiling conspiratorially, “Sure thing hun, and give the guys a happy ending of their own for doing such a good job?”



Apple piped up, raising an eyebrow and smirked, “A race?” From the look on her face she seemed very enthusiastic to begin. Victoria shrugged, “If you want hun. I was just thinking that once the boys have gotten their rocks off, they won’t just stand around looking dumb while we wrestle.” She looks from Apple to Flasher and smirks, “I just wanted to make sure we had clear-minded and level headed judges, but if you want to make a competition out of it…” she trails off happily. ” But first things first. The oil.”



Apple nodded, casually tossing a bottle to Victoria before turning to Flasher and handing him the bottle. She peels her already negligible top down some enough to send Flasher’s pulse pounding and gives him a sultry look, “Make sure you do a good job hun…” Flasher tried in earnest to concentrate on the task at hand. He really did.



However, Apple was just as determined not to let him. Flipping off the top of the oil, he went to pour it on one hand professionally, but at that moment, Apple turned and thrust her ass out toward him. Gawking at her, he managed to pour a hearty helping of oil not on his hand, but instead over his arm and down his side instead. It took him a while to realize this and resulting in him expending a good portion of the oil on himself.



Turning again to see what the hold-up was, Apple saw his captivated gaze and his body coated with oil, “My, you sure seem eager to get things started.” Panicking some, Flasher tried to recover, but Apple’s arm lashed out, catching his. “No need to waste precious oil hun…” Pulling at the strings of her top she guided his unprotesting arm under the slip of fabric and between her breasts, and began to rub up and down against him.



Flasher’s eyes went wide. Apple was using his arm like an oiled stripper pole, as she slid up and down against him, coating her torso with oil. His eyes glazed some as he felt her supple tits brush against his forearm and fantasized about getting a hold of them and tweaking with her nipples some. Coming out of his stupor he sighed; that wouldn’t come into the cards even if- when Apple won. Focusing on the task the task at hand again, vowing to make the best of it, he found that he was kneeling on the floor with Apple’s ass drifting just in front of him. He heard Apple’s voice purr out, “I’m ready for you to do my ass now hun.” Flasher gave a brief but zealous prayer of thanks to whoever was listening and began to fervently roam his hands over Apple’s ass and legs, tracing out every HD inch.



Alongside Flasher, John stood exasperated. Apple’s use of Flasher had not gone unchallenged and now John stood having been stripped down to his boxers. His broad chest and chiselled abs gleamed where Victoria had pressed herself against while she insisted that he oil her back while she faced him. He was having significant difficulty navigating her curves. Each time he tried to progress onwards to do her arms, he found her sliding her hands back to her breasts, slipping them underneath the fabric so his hands would press directly against her flesh. She navigated his hand over her mountainous orbs all the while protesting that he wasn’t giving them enough attention. “They’re a very prominent feature of mine, and so they need a lot of attention… AND a lot of oil…” Sighing, John relented as he kneaded his oily hands into her for the fifth time…

At the uppermost level of a castle, by the ledge of a broad arching window facing the ancient forest, sat the Huntsman Hansel. Though he wore the clothes of a simple commoner, an acknowledgment perhaps to his post as a huntsman, he was in truth a person of some status. Indeed, five years has passed since he was compelled to go to the castle, harassed into wearing some fancy clothes, and made to stand among lords and nobles to witness his sister’s wedding to the King. Since then however, he has made no attempt to contact Her Majesty the Queen, and even refused the monies, the land and title offered to him owing to his royal kinship. For though the woman he saw beside the king at the altar wore the face of his younger sister Gretel, who ran away shortly after their father’s death, the huntsman felt that the Queen was a complete stranger to him.



A year later, he made another appearance at the castle to pay his respects to the king who died after being struck by a strange and incurable illness. Watching his sister, covered from head to toe by a dark veil, crying beside the casket, he thought then that the funeral would be the last and only time he shall again set foot upon the stone floors of the castle. He was wrong. For one day, while he was splitting wood for his sixth winter as the estranged and eccentric Lord Hansel, he received a message from the Queen commanding his presence at the castle to receive instructions for an undisclosed errand.



When he arrived at the castle earlier that day, he was made to wait inside the late king’s chambers. The Queen, just then—he was told, was entertaining a fat prince from some neighbouring kingdom. The maid servant who led him to the chambers was not particularly subtle as to what she meant by ‘entertaining the prince,’ so the huntsman was prepared to wait a while to reacquaint himself with Her Majesty. However, not long after he settled to wait by the window’s ledge, the queen, naked as the day she was born, entered the king’s chamber followed by a brute of a manservant and a voluptuous maiden who carried a silver tray with a glass vial on it. The queen did not stop to greet her brother but instead trooped to the bed with the manservant.



“Take a drink from the vial Hansel. You will receive your instructions tomorrow,” said Her Majesty, visibly irate. Apparently, the prince preferred his entertainment swift and unsatisfying.



After some reluctance, the huntsman drank the vial the maiden handed to him. Whatever the potion was inside, the effect was immediate for suddenly he felt his cock stiffen fast and so hard it hurt. When he looked up, the manservant was already fucking the queen’s face as she lay on her back, while the maiden—on hands and knees—sank her tongue inside the queen’s cunt. The huntsman heard the queen choke and struggle with the manservant’s enormous penis but instead of pushing him away, she grabbed his butt and forced him to ram his cock even deeper down her throat. The huntsman then caught a glimpse of the maiden slipping a free hand between her legs, beckoning him to come closer. The gesture was unmistakable. The huntsman drew close and fucked her from behind.



That night, the late king’s bed chamber echoed with the moans and screams of pleasure, as the huntsman and manservant fucked the queen and maiden in every imaginable way. Most of the time, they paired up: the queen with the huntsman; the maiden with the manservant; and then, later, swapped partners soon after the women climaxed. Other times, the women took turns being fucked in the ass and in their pussy or in their mouth at the same time by the two men. Later still, while the huntsman took a much needed rest, he watched the women took turns sitting on the manservant’s face while the other rode his cock. And when the manservant took his turn to rest, the queen and maiden then crawled over to the huntsman and licked and sucked his cock, where after his shaft was coated with frothing wet dripping spit, the huntsman then took the queen from behind while she in turn licked the maiden’s cunt, the maiden having lied on her back.



Each time any one of the men withdrew to climax, one or both of the women would hurry to grab the throbbing dick, then shove the tip of the penis inside one of their mouths to suck and swallow the fountain of thick warm cum down their throats. The manservant and the huntsman had climax as much as seven times already before dawn, but at no time in between did their cocks soften—a feat, the huntsman believed, made possible only by the potion they all must have drank.



When the huntsman climaxed for the eighth and last time into the maiden’s eager mouth, he thought he was about to die for he truly felt that there was not an ounce of life left in him. But as much as he wanted to close his eyes and die then and there, the maiden nonetheless slid herself on top and kept on fucking him, her bulbous tits swinging like chandeliers flicking sweat all over his chest, while frothy drool dripped down his face.



A while later, after the maiden reached her hundredth climax and collapsed on top of him, the huntsman heard his sister ringing a bell. The huntsman then looked in disbelief as two more menservants entered her chamber. The last thing he saw before exhaustion claimed him was the sight of the three menservants thrusting their immense dicks into the Queen’s every orifice.



The morning after, the huntsman woke up and found himself alone in bed. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes wondering whether last night was dream, or perhaps, some nightmare. Thirsty, he looked around for something to drink. He spied a tray of food and a bottle of wine at the floor beside his bed. Stuck under the tray, however, was a letter. The huntsman got off the bed and read.



‘Dearest Hansel,



Men loyal to the King have conspired against me. They have sent my stepdaughter, Snow White, to that place in the forest where no man or woman may pass save those who were touched by the enchanted ones. I know not how they manage to do this, but it does not matter. Fools that they are, these traitors do not realize that you and I had once encountered and been touched by an enchanted one. Moreover, these idiots just assumed I have no means to divine the whereabouts of the girl in that part of the forest, as indeed, divined I have while you slept. It might amuse you to know dearest brother that the girl now inhabits the place we are so familiar with: the witch’s cottage inside that ancient Keep!



Go to the girl dear Hansel, kill her and bring her heart back to me in a small chest. I have arranged for you to meet at the northern garrison Captain Sersi and a small band of mercenaries to escort you as far as the river cross. The girl you met last night will accompany you in your journey for she is familiar with arcane and would be able to send news of your errand faster than a courier falcon.



Do not refuse me this errand dear brother, or that village whore you have been sleeping with once every fortnight, and her children, will suffer terribly.



G.’



II.



Three days past his reunion with the queen, Hansel left the last garrison at the northern most border of the king’s land past his wooden cottage. With him were two women and twenty men. Of the women, one was the leader of their group, Captain Vera Sersi; the other was the maiden her majesty insisted Hansel take with him on his journey.



Their drudging slog through the forest was uneventful, to say the least. They met no one and heard nothing but the sounds of the wild, the rumble of the oxcart carrying their supplies, the clopping of the horses’ hooves, and the sporadic conversation among the mercenaries and the captain. The huntsman and the girl, however, rode their horses mostly in silence.



Just before sunset, on their fifth day in the forest, the group camped among the ruins of some fortress, not far from which was where Hansel and his sister were first abandoned by their parents. Desperate to arrest his mind from dwelling in the past, the huntsman turned to the maiden who was then preparing his food and had earlier introduced herself as Ruadh.



“What do you know of our captain, Ruadh?” The huntsman asked, for no reason other than to bring his mind to the present.



Ruadh raised an eyebrow in amusement, and said: “But surely my lord, you must know of Captain Sersi?”



“She is the only child of Lord General Alfons Sersi, that much I know. But last I heard, she was supposed to marry the old widower, Barron Noris Harkel,” said the huntsman.



As she sat beside him, Ruadh said: “The wedding never took place, my lord.” To his ear, she whispered: “Instead of marrying the baron, she ran away and indentured herself as a camp whore for a company of mercenaries under the charge of Lord Sorum. When he discovered who she was, Lord Sorum took her in as his tent mistress. Then one night, after a great battle, while she tended Lord Sorum’s injuries alone, three assassins slipped into his tent. Believe me or not my lord, that girl picked up her master’s sword and fought and killed those three assassins with not a scratch on her! It was not long thereafter that she was given charge of a band of mercenaries, and while many at first scoffed her commission, she later gained their respect by proving herself in many battles.”



The huntsman shook his head, impressed. “I take it she had been thoroughly tutored in the art of fighting as child?” The huntsman asked.



“Aye, she is a general’s daughter after all, my lord,” she said.



The Huntsman glanced over to where the mercenaries and the captain sat some paces away from the campfire. The captain had chestnut hair, cropped short as a boy, an elven face and a lithe body. She had taken off her chain-mail during the night and was clothed only with a linen shirt while a gray woolen cloak draped over her shoulders. A few of the men were teasing the youngest of their group—laughing and tousling his messy blond hair. The boy, apparently, had his clumsy advances spurned by a maid servant at the garrison. After the men recounted, with much embellishment, the boy’s embarrassing story, the captain took a long swig from a bottle and said something that caused many to holler, and the boy to grow red in the face. Amidst the wild jeering and yelling, the captain stood up, undid her broad belt and took off her breeches. The boy was then manhandled and hurled close to where she stood. With much haste, the boy too undid his belt and positioned himself on top of the captain who had lain on her back disgorging a huge amount of spit on her palm which she instantly wiped on the tip of boy’s penis.



A boisterous crowd has gathered around where the boy was grunting with the effort of thrusting and pulling on top of the captain who had hooked both of her bare booted legs below the boy’s pale rump. The huntsman noticed that the crowd was fewer than before the business with the captain and the boy began. He looked up to the tree line beyond the camp. After a moment, the hairs at the back of his neck stood up.



“Is something the matter, my lord?” Ruadh asked.



“Run back to those walls. Hide! We’re surrounded!” The huntsman cried. Just then, arrows flew from the side, over their heads and into the trees. They heard men scream as the arrows found their targets. The huntsman grabbed his axe and ran towards the captain who by then had calmly slipped out from under the boy and was picking up her sword as she stood up. Her men having already formed a thin line of battle, the captain faced the huntsman.



“Where’s the girl?” She asked, calmly.



“Back at the ruins,” huntsman answered. No sooner than he had spoken the words, however, men wielding swords came rushing out of the tree line, screaming.



“Cover my back and do not leave my side!” She commanded.



Then one of her men hurried over to the fire and threw a wet blanket over it, sending the camp into darkness.



The huntsman was still adjusting his sight to the darkness when he heard at his back and around him loud clashes of metal hitting another, followed by the pained swift grunts and screams of the few who had fallen. The huntsman fought the urge to look around and at his back to where the captain, he sensed, was furiously battling two men at the same time.



A few hard breaths later, he saw the silhouettes of two men running towards him. With heart beating louder than the bedlam around him, the huntsman drew a large knife at his back and threw it hard at the center of the man on his left, praying that his aim was true. He barely noticed the man fell however, for no sooner than the knife left his hand, the huntsman had to drop to his knees to avoid being decapitated by the man on his right. As the sword sliced the air above him, the huntsman swung his axe across, splitting his opponent’s shin in two. The man fell screaming. The huntsman raised his axe, intent on burying the head deep into the skull of the fallen man when he hesitated. Up until that very night, he had never taken another man’s life. Amidst, the deafening screams and wails of men fighting and dying, the huntsman sat on his knees, axe forgotten his side, perplexed as what to do next. The decision was taken out of his hands, however, for a few moments thereafter, he had time enough to notice a boot at the end of a woman’s bare leg before it hit him at the side of the head. Then he fainted.



The sun has just risen when the huntsman came to, brushing a hand on the swollen gash at the side of his head, caked in dried blood. His vision swam and he felt vomit rising from his gorge but held it. He sat up and saw the captain’s men appropriating valuables from the corpses. The huntsman turned to the one closest to him and asked whether the girl with him last night was unharmed. The mercenary told him instead to ask the captain, then pointed his head somewhere behind him.



With shaky legs, the huntsman stood up and turned to where mercenary indicated. He saw the captain, still without her breeches, squatting on top of a young man tied spread-eagled to wooden pegs stuck to the ground. She was stroking the man’s penis. When the man’s organ became hard enough she lowered herself and slipped his manhood inside her cunt. Wearily, the huntsman approached and sat beside the odd couple.



“Captain, have any one seen Ruadh?” The huntsman asked.



Eyes closed, hips grinding in time to some invisible rhythm, she did not answer immediately.



“No, but they have noticed a horse and some supplies m-m-m-missing,” the captain stammered, apparently climaxing.



She kept on fucking the doomed man. As soon she felt that he too was about to climax, she freed a knife from her boot and leaned forward. She placed the edge of the knife at the side young man’s neck. She paused to stare straight into his terrified eyes, and then quickly, but dispassionately, slit his throat. When thick blood began to spout, the captain withdrew, slithering down to the dying man’s organ. She slipped the throbbing penis inside her mouth, vigorously stroking the space between her lips and the base of his shaft. And when at last, the man finally came, the captain sucked and swallowed every drop cum gushing out of the dying man’s cock.



Just then, the huntsman noticed with disgust, a few paces away from where he sat, two other corpses tied to the ground—throats slit, and flaccid dicks exposed.



Shortly thereafter, the captain sat beside the huntsman, wiping the spit and cum from her mouth, and drank some liquid from a canteen. When she offered the same canteen to the huntsman, he declined. The pair was silent for moment while they surveyed the carnage before them.



“Did Ruadh betray us Captain?” The huntsman mused.



“Those men already knew where we are heading, Lord Hansel. And I told no one beforehand about choosing this place to camp for the night so I could draw the bastards out,” she answered sighing. The huntsman just nodded in response.



“Let’s not tarry, my lord,” said the captain later as she stood up. “Or else we may yet earn her majesty’s ire, and that terrifies me more than you can imagine,” she continued. After walking a few paces, the captain turned to face the huntsman and, with a wry smile, said: “Oh, and my apologies to the boot to your head.”



III.



The enchanted forest was even more malevolent than the huntsman recollected. Walking past ancient trees, through moss ridden hanging vines as thick as a man’s limb, he felt a primordial entity, its presence permeating the entire forest, resent and barely tolerate his passing. Every step he took was a struggle not to turn back to where the captain and her men had camped across the river, awaiting his return. But as much as wish to run and abandon her majesty’s errand, he knew cannot.



He spent a cold night inside the deep hollow of a great tree, forgoing the warmth of a camp fire for the same might attract unwanted attention. By first light, the huntsman continued gloomily on his journey. Then just past noon, he came upon a wide deep valley in the middle of the forest. After taking in the sense foreboding he felt, the huntsman looked up and held before his eyes, there hanging upon the canyon walls, above the canopy of trees growing out of the valley floor, the ruins of the ancient Keep.



The huntsman dallied a moment, reminiscing as to how he and his sister came upon the place. After days without food and water, a white raven suddenly landed upon a low branch, squawking excitedly. Intent on capturing it for sustenance, he and his sister followed the bird only to stumble upon the Keep much later. Inside it, they discovered a thatch roofed cottage with tall windows–sills so wide it resembled a table; as indeed they had used the same as a table when they found baskets of warm bread, bottles of wine and candies conveniently placed upon it. Then, while he and his sister shamelessly devoured the food and wine and candies set before them, a beautiful woman of some indeterminate age, with raven black hair, stepped out of the door.



He pressed a hand on the side of his head in an attempt to stem the memories of pain and suffering he endured at the hands of the witch. He was not so successful. Haltingly, he forced his feet to move one after another. After a few paces, he felt the pressure in his chest ease a little and breathed a sigh of relief. As he hurriedly walked towards the Keep, the huntsman recalled with passing realization the fact that he never really saw his sister slay the witch. He just took her at her word that she tricked the witch into going inside the hot furnace then closed the door.



The huntsman circled the Keep’s surroundings, noting the smattering of tracks near its walls while making sure no one from inside could see him. His careful survey done, he sat on a hill looking for any sign of life inside.



Just before sunset, when he still saw no sign of movement, no wood smoke rising out of the chimney, he strode over to the cottage, feeling like a man about to meet his death.



Inside the cottage, the huntsman lingered for a short time at the parlor. When he found nothing that caught his attention, he bent down on his knee beside the fireplace, placing a hand upon the hearth, and confirmed what he already suspected. He inspected the one room in the cottage, lifting the lids of the chests beside the bed, finding a full set of clothes for a girl of some means. He went to the kitchen, opening the cupboards and discovered enough provisions to last the winter. When he hunkered down to the cast iron stove, however, he took a burnt piece of wood from inside, tied a string around it, and attached the other end to his right boot. He replaced the burnt wood inside the stove and half closed the door. Then the huntsman sat by the dining table and drank water from his canteen. He sat there for a very long while, his back to kitchen door which was slightly ajar, watching the shadows cast by the dying sun grow.

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