Warily, Laela took the bag, wondering what he’d chosen for her and wishing she’d been able to bring some of her more casual garments along when she’d run away.
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Carnal Sacrifice
He pointed to the bedroom. “Go change. There’s a comb for straightening your hair, too. Come back looking pretty.” He winked lasciviously. “Pretty girls sell more ale.”
Laela shut the bedroom door behind her and quietly dressed in a short, brown leather skirt, not unlike one she already owned, and a white…well, it was not a tunic—she wasn’t sure exactly
what
one would call it. As best she could tell, she was meant to tie the top between her breasts. It hugged them so tight, though—far tighter than anything she owned. When she glanced down, she felt utterly exposed, the inner curves of the two mounds on clear display. And she didn’t have a viewing glass, but she strongly suspected her nipples were visible through the fabric, as well.
For a moment, she was worried by the thought—but then, slowly, she decided perhaps it was not so horrible. The men in the tavern would see her like this, but did they not see other women, like Sima and Janya, this way, too? And when she thought of
Garon
seeing her like this, she could not deny the dampness that warmed her inner thighs.
So rather than fret about something she couldn’t change—remembering that she had agreed to do whatever he asked of her—she opened the door and stepped out into the tavern room. “Am I wearing this correctly?”
His eyes riveted on her, his expression dripping with lust. “Ares, yes,” he breathed.
She pursed her lips, at once excited by his reaction, yet still concerned about
other
eyes on her. She was trying very hard to be the sensual woman he wanted her to be, but with Garon—and even with Baelor—there had been a certain comfort, a sense of safety she knew she wouldn’t feel with just any man. “You can see through the fabric, yes?”
He nodded, grinned. “
Oh
yes.”
Despite herself, her pussy seemed to swell beneath her skirt. “And you wish for all your customers to see me this way.”
“I told you, pretty girls—”
“—sell more ale,” she cut him off.
He gave another short nod.
Just then, the tavern door swung open, admitting a small evening breeze…and Sima and Janya. Both women were giggling raucously and it gave Laela a brief moment to size them up. It was, after all, the only time she’d seen them other than when they’d been kissing and rubbing their bodies together.
The taller one—she didn’t know which woman was which yet, since they were always spoken of as a pair—possessed a mane of thick raven hair that fell straight yet wild, all the way to her ass. Her thin, angular face made her pretty yet intimidating, not a woman Laela would wish to quarrel with. She was lean with pert, medium breasts that seemed to stand at attention beneath the thin, fitted tunic she wore, the neckline dropping low between the curves. A sinfully short skirt of brown fur came only to the tops of her thighs, showing off long, muscular, tan legs.
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Lacey Alexander
The other woman’s hair was a riot of long red locks. Her whole body was more curvaceous, lush, right up to her lips, which appeared swollen. From kissing. Or sucking Baelor’s cock, she thought, the vision suddenly planting itself in her head. Her vest of thin, pale fur might have appeared more chaste had it been hooked together at a point higher than her waist, but she obviously intended for much of her lush breasts to be on display. Her black leather skirt was nearly as short as the taller woman’s.
“Sima, Janya,” Garon said, addressing first the dark-haired tavern maid and then the redhead, “this is Laela.”
“Hello,” Laela said politely, immediately aware that both were sizing
her
up, as well.
“The new girl,” Sima said, her tone indecipherable—neither one of welcome nor
dislike.
Janya smiled, a gesture that turned her face truly pretty and highlighted her green eyes. “How did you like cleaning this place all by yourself, sweetie?”
“It was hard work, but…I didn’t mind.”
“We didn’t either,” Janya said, grinning wider, “for it was the first time Garon gave us any time to ourselves in…” she rolled her eyes, “…forever.”
Garon only laughed and it was clear Janya was teasing him. “You ladies are paid well enough for your toil and you know it.”
“And some of it,” Sima said in a deep, seductive voice as she crossed toward Garon, “is work we don’t even mind.” With that, she reached out, cupping him between his legs and giving a sensuous squeeze. A strange, wild jealousy shot through Laela and she hoped it didn’t show on her face.
She hadn’t even noticed Janya moving toward
her
. “What Garon and Baelor didn’t tell us,” the redhead said, giving Laela a long, very thorough once-over, “was how pretty you are.”
“Oh,” she said, lost for a response. “Um…thank you.”
Janya simply laughed. “You seem…” The redhead lowered her chin, clearly trying to puzzle through something about Laela and making her feel as if she were on a stage. “Innocent,” she finally decreed. “Naïve. Especially for a girl wearing something that leaves her luscious curves so delectably displayed.”
With that, she reached up, running the tip of one finger from Laela’s collarbone down the edge of the thin fabric all the way over the curve of her breast to the knot between. Despite herself, the touch left her pussy tingling and had surely made her nipples jut more prominently through the white top.
A glance at Garon found his expression perhaps more lust-filled than Laela had seen it before. Not sure how to respond, she took a nervous step back and reached for a rag to wipe down the nearest table. Undaunted, however, Janya’s eyes followed the sway of Laela’s breasts as she ran the cloth in circles over the wood and she knew she was wet beneath her skirt—she just wasn’t quite sure
why
exactly.
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Carnal Sacrifice
“Laela is to work with you both tonight,” Garon announced. “I’ve a strong feeling,” he went on, casting a playful look in her direction, “that she’s never served ale to a bunch of rowdy men before, so I’m counting on you to give her instruction until she becomes accustomed to the job.”
“It’ll be my pleasure to help you out, sweetie,” Janya said with a wink that struck her as downright flirtatious, while Sima—still standing too close to Garon for Laela’s liking, her arm looped casually around his waist—only glanced over and gave a short nod.
“Sima,” Garon said, looking into her eyes with ease, for she was nearly at tall as him, “you don’t seem very welcoming to Laela.” As had been the case since the women’s arrival, his voice was more teasing than truly scolding.
Sima didn’t smile, simply replying with a shrug. “She’s pretty, and her breasts are
especially
delicious—but you know I’ve never cared much for the innocent type.”
Yes, Garon knew that, all right—it reminded him of Sima’s similar reaction to Ellaena, who had not been nearly as innocent as Laela, yet still far less boisterous than the two tavern maids. It was only after Ellaena had left Myrtell with another man that Sima and Janya had first given him comfort after a long night of pouring ale. Since then, their debauchery had become legendary—the reason Garon’s tavern drew so many more men than the others in town—and he’d thought it only fair to share such profits with them in higher pay.
At the creak of the door hinges, Garon turned to see two burly farmers amble inside, not quite clean after a day in the fields. “We come for ale and female entertainment. We hear both can be had here,” one of them said, a ragged beard dangling from his chin.
Garon nodded. “You’ve come to the right place,” he informed them. “Take a seat and let Janya bring you two goblets.”
The same man’s eyes narrowed on Laela, and Garon noticed the farmer’s companion’s gaze drifting in the same direction, the fellow’s thicker, darker beard seeming to twitch with anticipation. “When’s the entertainment start?”
Despite himself, Garon’s back went rigid at the blatant hunger in the man’s beady eyes. He chose not to examine his reaction. “Later,” he said shortly.
“Bet that’un’s got a hot pussy,” the first farmer said, still staring at Laela.
Her face went red and Garon froze a little inside on her behalf. The men who drank here were often the raw sort, but not usually
this
raw
this
early. Instinct made him step protectively toward her, as if to shield her somehow, but he quickly realized it was too late for that—Laela’s gaze had dropped to the floor, her shoulders hunching inward.
Janya sent a quick, knowing glance to Laela, then to Garon, before she stepped up close to where the men had taken a seat. “You’ve made me jealous,” the redhead said playfully to the big oaf who’d last spoken.
Both men chuckled. “That so?” the first farmer asked.
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Lacey Alexander
She nodded. “No one has a prettier pussy than me.” With that, she lifted her short skirt just enough to give them a quick glimpse of her fiery-haired mound, then let it drop.
Both men whistled and guffawed their dirty pleasure, and Garon promised himself to thank Janya later for taking the attention away from Laela. That hadn’t been his plan for the evening—far from it—and yet he couldn’t deny that it pained him to see Laela’s discomfort, even that which he’d intentionally created for her.
“That’s all you get for now,” Janya said, shaking a teasing finger in the farmers’ faces, “but the more ale you drink, the more inspired I shall be to show you more pussy.”
Soon after, other men came—most were regulars, a few were unfamiliar—and as usual, the room became full as the hour grew later. All the shutters were thrown open to catch the evening breeze weaving its way up through the village from the ocean.
Sima and Janya behaved in their usual reckless fashion—moving freely through the crowd to deliver ale, not minding if the occasional man stroked a breast or reached under their skirts to pinch their asses—Ares knew he’d found a world of profit in two tavern maids who welcomed such uninvited touches, who so loved to display themselves and play at sex in every manner. They were women who took pure delight in titillating others—and titillating others, he suspected, was the greatest form of their
own
excitement.
Laela, on the other hand, clearly tried to stay as close to the serving area as possible, venturing only to the nearest tables to deliver goblets of drink and making her stays there as short as possible. When one friendly young man, accustomed to Sima and Janya, boldly patted her ass, she flinched, moving quickly away.
Garon, of course, wanted to slug the man and hug Laela protectively to him—but he stayed seated, watching from a distance, trying with all that was in him to ignore the tightening of his chest.
Because this meant his plan was working. And because he had to let it. Even if he had been glad of Janya’s little rescue of her earlier. He had to harden his heart here, once and for all. He had to be
glad
he’d made Laela uncomfortable. Glad he’d maybe even left her repulsed and a little bit frightened.
Yet he couldn’t help noticing she never complained. She never looked to him for help, never looked to him
at all
, now that he thought about it. And she didn’t run to Janya for assistance, either, as he might have expected after the other woman’s previous kindness. She did what he asked of her without protest. It sobered him, even as he threw back a swig of ale, trying to be drunk enough not to care.
And it also…made him sick. His stomach wrenched at the look on her face—she
was trying to be strong, stalwart, but her eyes couldn’t hide her discomfort.
It forced a simple question in his mind.
What in Ares’ name was he doing to her? And why? How could he be so damnably
cruel?
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Carnal Sacrifice
Because you have to be. You have to show her this is no place for her, no life for her. Not to mention it’s no sane life for you to be living, either, harboring such danger in your bed.
And still, as sensible as the explanation seemed to him, he felt like an ass for it, his stomach seeming to curl in on itself more with each passing moment of her distress.
He only let himself be briefly distracted from Laela when a familiar dance began to take place between Sima and Janya. Each night, as the two beauties drank ale and grew aroused by the attention of the customers, they gradually made a point of seeking each other out, sharing passing touches, brushing against each other, reaching out for a sensual caress on the other’s belly, hip, ass.
It never took the roomful of men long to notice—some might draw the attention of friends, others simply observed in silence—but a heavy sense of sensuality always developed, seeming to soak the tavern room. And it was soaking the room
now
.