Sins of the Psion

The Second Puffer and Lace Adventure

Chapter Two: New Thoughts

The halfling district in the town of Yorin was a sorry, run-down affair. The urban halflings who lived there cared more about making it through the day than in maintaining their property. The structures would not be recognizable by their rural cousins whose finely crafted homes were typically surrounded by vegetable gardens and well manicured trees.

Lace patrolled the district without much interest. She was keeping her eyes peeled for anybody suspicious, and was walking by Toefinger's dwelling on the half hour, but her heart really wasn't in it.

What her heart was into was Gerard.

It was odd: until running into Gerard she'd been wondering lately if she really did prefer men over women after all. Over the last year she'd started to think about her first crush, one of her handmaids who had actually had some interest in the same things Lace did. Fiona was her name, a gorgeous woman with red hair and green eyes...

She paused. Fiona. Lace hadn't thought about her in years, or of her red hair, green eyes, and gorgeous physique. She suddenly realized the similarities with Puffer. Could the crush she'd thought she'd been developing for Puffer, the romantic thoughts she'd been desperate to suppress, have come from memories of poor Fiona? Could the guilt she felt about her handmaid have something to do with why she'd taken on Puffer the way she had?

"You look sad, my love."

Lace spun in place, hand immediately at the dagger on her belt. But through the late night gloom she saw that it was only Gerard leaning against the entrance to a shady looking tavern. His receding hair was slicked back, his pointed jaw upthrust, his thin lips curled into a smirk. He was short, only a little taller than Puffer even, but there was something about his presence that made him seem as large as Lace.

And he was just so gorgeous!

"By the gods, ya scared me!" Lace grumbled. Then she smiled shyly as Gerard approached her. "What are ya doing up so late?"

He shrugged. "Funny you should ask. I find myself in a bit of a predicament."

Lace strode over to him in three long strides. She placed her hands on her wide hips and said, "Whatever the problem is, let me help."

He raised one eyebrow. "I don't know, Princess. The sort of help I need is... well. Might not be in your wheelhouse, so to speak."

Three drunken patrons stumbled out through the tavern door, nearly knocking down Gerard as they did. The small man's expression darkened but then one of the men got in the other's way and both tumbled down the steps into the muddy thoroughfare. As Lace stepped over them she joined Gerard in chuckling at the drunks' fall. She said, "Let's go somewhere nicer than this. You can tell me about your... predicament. Might be it's in my wheelhouse after all."

"We can talk here," Gerard said.

Of course they could, Lace thought. She suddenly felt embarrassed for even asking. Why had she been so forward? Gods, did she really believe someone like Gerard would want to go off to someplace nice with her? Just because they'd shared a mug of ale and swapped old war stories a few hours earlier?

He seemed to notice the expression of hurt and embarrassment on her face. He said, "It's just that the Leather Star is nice enough, for the hour anyway. You're not going to find anything too refined in Yorin this late."

Lace smiled. "Of course!" she said in relief. She made to step into the tavern when she paused. For the first time she noticed the faded red heart painted on the tavern's sign. She glanced down at Gerard, who was smiling that gorgeous smile of his. Had he seen the heart? Of course he had; this was his town, surely he knew. She stood there, wondering what to say, if anything, when he spoke first.

"Oh yes, I suppose I should have mentioned this is a brothel," he said convivially. "I trust that's okay?"

She frowned. "I just... yeah, of course it's fine." Lace had been in her fair share of brothels over the years but had never been a paying customer. Not for sex, anyway. She found the whole idea of prostitution personally offensive. The vast majority of the time the money didn't go to the whores, but to whoever ran the establishment they worked at. That seemed like a form of slavery. There was also something terribly sad about a woman, or man, being willing to have sex for money. It was like taking something beautiful and turning it ugly.

In general, Lace found most whores to be pitiable and sad; broken and weak. Being around them made her feel sad and when she got sad, Lace often got angry. Which is why she stayed away from brothels in the first place. But if Gerard wanted to have a drink with her in one, who was she to argue?

Shortly after taking their seats at a small table near the back of the bustling brothel, two goblets and a bottle of fine wine arrived, delivered by a topless female dwarf with a long, braided blonde beard and devastatingly huge breasts.

"So my predicament," he said. He began to pour them each a drink. "I have this... colleague I've done lots of business with in the past. One could say I made my fortune because of him. I owe him a great deal. But two nights ago, in this very establishment, I convinced one of the whores to leave town and return to her family farm."

"Oh, Gerard," Lace mumbled, a lazy smile on her lips. Of course he'd do something like that! See a poor country girl and lead her away from the sins of city life. Lace's heart fluttered. Gods but he was as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside.

He smiled. "Yes, yes, I know. I have a soft spot for anyone who is being exploited. And trust me, this poor girl was being exploited. However, I did not know that she was Gorask's favorite. Now he's furious with me."

Lace nodded dumbly. "Well you did the right thing," she said. She straightened her back and narrowed her eyes. "Has he threatened ya? Do ya need me to... talk ta him?"

He waved her words away. "No, no, nothing like that," he said. "Violence wouldn't be helpful. Quite the opposite, in fact. You see, he has the power of the purse-strings here in Yorin. He's the Lord Duke's treasurer. It's going to be impossible for me to get new contracts with the town from now on. Unless..."

"Unless?" Lace asked. In the back of her head some warning bells were beginning to sound.

He shrugged, and even blushed a little. He said, "Well you see, I found a woman more... experienced and less... victimized to take our poor country girl's place. I thought she'd be perfect for him. In fact, I'm supposed to introduce the two in about fifteen minutes. The only problem is that this new woman seems to have taken my retainer and stood me up."

"You want me to go find her?" Lace said, unable to hide the disgust from her voice. The last thing she would ever do was drag an unwilling woman to a brothel. Gerard had to know that. Deep down she knew she could never do that. Then again if Gerard needed her to do it...

"No, it'd be a waste of time. By now she's halfway to Sphere," he said with a sigh. "And obviously I'm not going to force her to have sex with Gorask anyway."

Lace smiled in relief. "Well then, what kin I do? To help, I mean?"

He reached over and took one of her hands in his. Lace tingled at his touch and became lost in his dark little eyes as he spoke. "You really do want to help me. Don't you?"

"Yes," she breathed. Suddenly that's all she wanted to do. More than anything.

"Well you see, Gorask is a man of... particular tastes," he said. "He likes big women. Not fat, mind you, but big: tall, muscled, broad. Curvy. And he particularly likes blonde hair, blue eyes..."

She frowned. Though still lost in his eyes and the sound of his voice the warning bells were starting to sound again.

Lace felt her pulse spike as the realization settled over her. Gerard's dark, hypnotic eyes held hers, trapping her in a web of absolute focus while his thumb idly stroked the back of her hand. His voice, warm and slick as oil, washed over her like a spell.

"Tall, muscled, broad," he repeated softly, leaning in close enough that she could smell the fine wine on his breath. His gaze slowly trailed down the heavy swell of her chest beneath her leather tunic, tracing the line of her broad shoulders and the thick curve of her hips. "Curvy. Blonde hair... bright blue eyes... beautiful."

The warning bells in Lace's head clanged violently, but the sound was distant, muffled under a heavy, warm haze that settled over her brain. A sudden throb of heat flushed down into her lower belly, making her knees feel weak beneath the table.

"You're... talkin' about me?" she breathed, the words heavy on her lips. *Beautiful*, he had said. Did he consider her beautiful?

"I'm talking about a magnificent, gorgeous woman who could save my life," Gerard whispered softly, squeezing her hand tighter. "Gorask is waiting upstairs right now. He's got a purse full of gold coins for an hour of... entertainment. Gold that could be yours, Lace. I know how tight things have been for you lately. The life of an adventurer can be very expensive, especially when they're forced to take care of a ward."

"A... ward?" she asked dumbly.

He gave her a quizzical look. "Puffer, of course," he said as though it was obvious. "Your charity case."

Lace had never thought of Puffer as a 'charity case'. The warrior would never travel with somebody for so long if they couldn't pull their own weight. And Puffer had demonstrated many times that she was brave, and heroic, and capable.

But could she be blinded by the girl's beauty? Could Puffer's half-elf blood hold some sort of charm or sway over her? Maybe she was a 'charity case' after all. There had to be some truth to that, surely, if Gerard thought so.

"Maybe," he said, his voice little more than a whisper but filling the entirety of her senses, "if Puffer wasn't so needy you wouldn't be so poor. Maybe if it wasn't for her you wouldn't need the gold so badly."

"I... am poor," she admitted, blinking away some confusion.

Gerard smiled sympathetically. "Yes, you are. You need Gorask's gold, don't you?"

For the first time Lace broke eye contact. She was suddenly filled with such shame. "Yes," she admitted. "I... need it."

He nodded, squeezed her hand, and said, "You need a purse full of gold. And you want to help me, correct?"

"Of course!" she blurted.

"Then you know what you need to do, Lace."

A violent pang of shame stabbed through her chest. Prostituting herself. Selling her body like one of the tragic whores she so deeply pitied. The sheer dirtiness of it made her skin crawl; to lay beneath some fat, sweaty treasurer for coin felt unspeakably cheap, degrading, and dirty.

And yet, as she looked at her empty coin purse, she knew how desperately she needed the gold... and how desperately she wanted to help Gerard.

*Do it for him,* a soft, unnatural voice echoed in the back of her thoughts, feeling so much like her own internal desires. *Do this for Gerard. Think of how you treated him during the war. You threw him in the mud. You broke his pride. You owe him this.*

Her throat tightened with a sudden wave of desperate affection. If she sacrificed her dignity for Gerard, if she gave Gorask what he wanted so Gerard could secure his precious contracts, would he finally forgive her? Could he ever look at her with real devotion? Isn't that what she'd secretly wanted all along? For this gorgeous, cunning man to look at her not as a mindless brute, but as a person he loved?

"It's just one hour," Gerard coaxed gently, his dark eyes sparkling with secret triumph as her resistance crumbled. "You'd be helping me, Princess. You'd be saving me."

Lace was shaking her head. The last of her mental safeguards were collapsing but she held tight to one of them. She said, "I just... Toefinger. The halfling. Promised to find who's been robbing them... stealing their food, their daughter's underclothes..."

Gerard scowled at her and the sight of it pained her heart like nothing else. He said, "So you'd rather help some pathetic halfling than me? Huh. Some friend you turned out to be."

"Wait!" she exclaimed when he went to stand up. Her eyes, wide and pleading, were beginning to well up with tears. Normally that would make her furious, cause her to yell and become violent. After all, crying was for weaklings. Lace never cried. But right now, at this moment, all that mattered was making Gerard happy.

"It's just," she stammered, desperate to explain, "I promised Puffer... told her I was going out to patrol."

"But you weren't, were you?" he said, voice smooth as silk. "You didn't go out tonight as part of any sort of 'righteous quest', did you?"

"No," she whispered, lower lip trembling.

He gripped her hand and stared into her eyes. Lace felt herself getting lost in them. He said, "You came out to find me, didn't you?"

She gulped. Then nodded.

"You found me," he said, voice soft and hypnotic and so quiet it might have been in her head. "And now you want to help me, don't you?"

Lace swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribs. The dirty, cheap feeling coiled tight in her stomach, mingling with a desperate, shameful thrill of pleasing the man sitting before her.

"One hour," Lace rasped out, her voice trembling slightly as she pulled her hand from his and stood up. "Just one hour... for you."

Gerard's smirk broadened into a brilliant, handsome smile that made her foolish heart flutter despite the disgrace settling over her soul. "Room four at the top of the stairs, my love," he said smoothly, gesturing toward the shadowy hallway above. "He's waiting."

***

Gerard waited until the brute of a woman was up the stairs and out of sight before jumping out of his chair and making his way to the storage room behind the bar. No one barred his path and several people nodded at his approach, nods of respect for a respectable man.

Inside the storage room he removed a false board from the wall, then another, revealing a ladder leading up. With all the eagerness of a child during a festival he scrambled up its rungs until he reached the narrow walkway hidden behind the walls of the second floor. The dark passage smelled of stale wine and sawdust, but Gerard hardly noticed.

When he reached his destination he pressed his face to a small, worn peep-hole bored through the wood behind the tapestry of Room Four. His psionic senses flared, tapping directly into the golden threads of influence he'd anchored in Lace's mind. Through that psychic link, her heightened emotions flooded into him like rich, intoxicating wine: her burning shame, her desperate yearning for his affection, her heavy, unnatural arousal, and a sudden, violent wave of disgust.

Gerard smirked into the darkness as the door to Room Four creaked open.

***

Lace stepped across the threshold, her heavy boots coming to a dead halt. Sitting at the edge of the plush bed was Gorask, the Lord Duke's treasurer.

He was a half-orc.

She gaped at him: broad-shouldered and thick-chested, his olive-green skin gleaming beneath a light sheen of sweat in the warm lantern light. A pair of blunt, yellowed tusks protruded from his heavy lower jaw, framing a wide, wicked grin. Though dressed in fine velvet and silk, his brutal, imposing frame was unmistakable.

Lace's gut twisted in violent revulsion. Images of the Goblin War flashed behind her eyes: bloody battlefields, the thunderous war cries of orc vanguard shock-troopers, the brutal, savage iron of enemy axes. To her, half-orcs weren't civil servants or wealthy treasurers, and they could never be civilized even if they were half human. They were the enemy. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to draw the heavy dagger at her waist and tear the creature's throat out.

"Well, well," Gorask rumbled, his thick, coarse voice vibrating through the small chamber. His yellowed eyes ranged greedily over her tall, muscular body, drinking in her broad shoulders, full chest, and sweeping curves. "Gerard promised me something special, but by the gods... look at you. A true blonde warrior."

Lace stood frozen, her jaw set tight as her mind reeled. *I can't do this*, her pride screamed. *Not with an orc. Not for coin like a filthy whore.*

Then, Gerard's psionic aura surged within her thoughts, smothering her rage under a heavy, suffocating warmth. An unnatural heat pulsed violently between her legs, sending a tingling flush straight to her nipples, tightening them against the fabric of her leather tunic.

*Do it for Gerard*, the mental whisper urged, smoothing over her disgust with a wave of desperate, pathetic longing. *Save him. Help him prosper. Prove to him that you aren't just a brutal monster from his past. Make him love you.*

A shudder ran down her spine. Her hands trembled as she reached for the brass buckles of her leather tunic. Her face burned with intense humiliation, her skin flushing crimson as she unfastened her gear, letting the heavy leather drop to the floorboards with a dull thud.

Gorask gasped, his yellow eyes wide as he watched her unbutton her linen shirt, exposing the generous swell of her heavy breasts, tipped with dark, tight peaks that throbbed in the cool air.

"Gods above," the half-orc growled, his heavy hands coming up to unbuckle his own trousers. "Strip the rest off, female. Let me see what my gold is buying."

Tears of pure degradation pricked the corners of Lace's blue eyes. She felt dirtier, cheaper, and more degraded than she ever had in her life. Here she was, a noble war hero about to sell her flesh to a green-skinned beast for a handful of coins. Yet as she peeled her trousers down her thick, toned thighs, her body betrayed her, slicking with an unwanted, psionically driven moisture between her legs.

*What is wrong with me?* she thought. For a moment her shame made her start seeing red as her anger boiled. But as the fury rose within her a wave of psionic energy smoothed it out, leaving Lace feeling only humiliated and ashamed.

After removing the last of her underclothes, Lace covered her breasts with her hands and looked down at her bare feet shyly. The half-orc then commanded her to put her arms at her sides so he could see all of her. "Good, now turn around... slowly," he said.

Lace, breathing heavily, did as she was told. Once her back was to him she risked wiping a tear from her eye.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

She hadn't sensed the man approach her until his hand slapped her ass. Once again she saw red, but only for a quick moment. Then she simply grunted as the man slapped her ass again, and again...

***

Behind the wall, Gerard pulled his face away from the hole, letting out a dark, silent laugh. The sight of the proud, untouchable barbarian princess stripping naked and being spanked by the half-orc treasurer was sweeter than any victory he'd ever had. Tapped into her roiling mind the psion could feel her spirit cracking, her self-worth shattering into a thousand irrecoverable pieces.

Lace wasn't his first victim and wouldn't be his last. But she would be his masterpiece, he was certain. Not only was he stronger and more skilled in the mental arts than ever before but the personal nature of this endeavor had his creative juices flowing. Oh, but he was going to have his revenge on Lace. This was just the start.

Gerard placed his eye back at the hole and used his abilities to tear down one last safeguard in Lace's mind as the half-orc spanked her like a naughty child.

***

"St-stop! Please, st-stop!"

Lace couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, or the tears that were suddenly pouring down her cheeks. Per Gorask's instructions she had her hands placed flat on the wall and she was bent over, giving him perfect access to her increasingly swollen ass. Treasurer he might be but the half-orc had well calloused hands just the same and he used them to strike her bare ass with ever growing ferocity.

"Shut up, whore," the man grumbled. Suddenly she felt him grab a handful of her hair and pull her head back. For the hundredth time in the last year she wished her head was shaved the way it had been during the war. Less for the enemy to grab onto.

Less for a pervert to grab onto, too.

It was unreal how painful this spanking was. Lace, who had survived crossbow bolts being pulled out of her by unskilled soldiers; Lace, who had once taken a kick to the sternum from an outraged giant; Lace, who had seen friends beg her for help she couldn't give. That Lace, her true self, had never cried. Crying was a weakness she could ill afford to indulge. Crying was for children and helpless women. Yet now here she was, blubbering and sobbing as this monster punished her for... what? Existing?

Rage continued to build in her only to suddenly dissipate like smoke in the wind. Though she so wanted to endure this for Gerard, part of her kept hoping for that explosion of anger she was so accustomed to. But it just wouldn't come through.

*It's because of my love for Gerard*, she told herself.

Finally the big man behind her stopped his blows. She heard him walk away, presumably toward the bed, and suddenly her arms couldn't bear her weight anymore. Lace dropped to her knees and she cried out in pain when she did. Then she just knelt there, sobbing pathetically, confused and embarrassed and ashamed.

"You look like a warrior but are as weak as a kitten," Gorask grumbled. "Female humans are pathetic. Now get up and come over here. I've got you for an hour and our fun is just starting."

Rage flooded her weakened mind for an instant but disappeared as quickly as it had come. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand she managed to say between sobs, "Yes... yes, okay..."

*Help him prosper*, she thought. *Do this for Gerard, I love him so much!*

***

Gerard couldn't help himself: he pulled out his cock and began stroking. The sight of Lace, the mighty warrior, once his feigned friend but actual tormentor, on her knees, sobbing pathetically, was just too arousing. He had to be careful not to cum: he was saving that for later. Right now he just stroked as the imposing woman, face as red as her ass from crying, stood up and walked timidly toward the bed.

"Good whore," Gorask said. "At least you know how to obey. Now put that whore mouth of yours to work, hmm?"

The tendrils of psionic energy between Gerard and Lace pulsed violently once again. On some sort of subconscious level Lace's brain was trying to fight off his influence. It was desperate to get angry and Gerard could feel such rage inside her that it was almost scary. He winced in pain as he focused on her thoughts, smoothing them out, curtailing the rage biting into his control.

Thankfully she was no match for his mental attack. Once again he reasserted his mental hold over her and pushed away her anger and rage. While amplifying her sense of shame and humiliation he whispered, "Do it for Gerard. Help him prosper. I love him so much!"

He watched in satisfaction as she dropped to her knees in front of Gorask.

***

What hesitation she'd felt was gone, replaced by a need to prove her love for Gerard. She had to do this, had to help him prosper, had to make up for the hurt she'd caused him all those years ago.

...and yet: hadn't some of that hurt been self inflicted? As she got to her knees in front of Gorask an unpleasant memory broke through her foggy brain, memories of Gerard asking her to toss him, asking her to hold down his hand for their dropping knives. Memories of him tumbling and dancing for their amusement. Memories of him explaining that his role was to be the joke of the regiment.

Memories of him saying: "This way nobody expects me to actually fight."

But no. None of that was true. Gerard was no coward. How many times had he led the charge, been the first over the wall? Her heart swelled with pride and love at the false memories filling her splintering brain.

Gorask, standing at the edge of his bed, already had his hard cock out. It was on the large side, maybe nine or ten inches and plenty thick. As with most orcs she'd seen his wasn't cut, but its sheath was already retracting. As she stared at it strong memories of Gerard began to formed in her head again, memories of her making a fool of him, of throwing him so violently that he broke his leg; memories of her mistreating him at every opportunity. Memories of bullying him and helping others to do the same.

Memories of talking shit about him behind his back.

And just like that the shame she felt from wrapping her lips around Gorask's cock became preferable to those thoughts. Those memories. How could she have done all those awful things to Gerard so long ago? She'd loved him then, too, she was certain of it. Maybe she'd just been a coward.

Maybe that's all I am: a coward. A big, dumb, whore of a coward.

But none of that mattered really. What mattered was helping him now. And so the mighty warrior woman, who had never deigned to suck cock ever before, dutifully did as Gorask instructed.

"You don't know what you're doing, do ya, whore?" the half-orc asked incredulously.

"Mmm," she mumbled from around his member.

"Go easy, easy," he said, gently placing his hands in her hair, guiding her, slowing her down. "There you go... steady pace. Use the tongue. Oh good... good girl, you're a natural cocksucker, aren't you?"

A strange thrill of pride flooded through her. She was doing it, she was actually giving a blowjob for the first time in her life! How long had she dreamed of it? She had a hard time remembering, but surely it had been for years and years. Now not only was she doing it but she was doing it for a good cause.

*The gold*, she thought, her pussy pulsing at the thought of gold coins in her purse.

*Love*, she then thought, picturing Gerard, how proud he would be of her.

"Mmmmm," she mumbled around his cock, her enthusiasm picking up. She bobbed her head back and forth, eager and desperate to please this man, eager and desperate to please Gerard.

And suddenly desperate to please herself, too.

As she continued to take more of him inside her with every bob forward, Lace reached between her thighs and found her pussy sopping wet. How long had it been since she'd been so aroused? Ever?

*Gods*, she thought, all thoughts of shame fully burnt out of her brain by now. *Why did I wait so long to do this?! Because I thought it would be demeaning? This isn't demeaning!*

"Now take it all down your throat... all of it, ya dumb female, all of it... there. There you go..."

His heavy balls were dangling against her chin, now, her nose buried in his crickling black pubic hair. She gagged and then began to panic slightly when his cock cut off her airway. For awhile she just knelt there, unmoving, waiting. Then out of sheer instinct she began slapping his thighs, hoping he'd get the hint, but he ignored her. He held her head in place and relentlessly held his cock down her throat.

Fear. Fear now mixed with her panic and a rage returned. For a brief moment she saw red and then it disappeared. *This is ok,* she thought. *I deserve this. I can do this. I'm a whore.*

Despite the fact that her vision was beginning to fade and face had gone from blue to purple, Lace continued to tickle her pussy and moan inwardly at the sheer pleasure fighting against the wanton panic of suffocation. Once more the rage soared back into her mind, giving her a push of adrenaline... and once again it faded away, replaced with a love for Gerard and a desire to suck cock.

*I'm going to die like this*, she thought, tears leaking out of her eyes. *But I'll be dying for him...*

Suddenly Gorask pulled his cock out of her mouth and she gasped, sucking in lungs full of air. The reprieve did not last long: before she could completely catch her breath he was pushing his cock into her mouth again, but she was happy for it. With a new enthusiasm she ran her tongue around the head of his cock and took it into her mouth, making herself gag on it this time, then pulling it out and gently kissing it.

It was all for Gerard. But now this was also for her fingers dancing between her legs and the sudden rush of endorphins from kneeling for this man. Pleasing this stranger, knowing that he was going to put money back in her purse again, not caring about anything except this cock and her desperation to please it.

To please Gerard. Ultimately this was all for that and as she imagined his smiling, grateful face, an orgasm erupted in her, a wave of warmth spreading from between her quaking thighs to the tips of her toes and the top of her head.

Gods how she loved him. Gods how she loved sucking cock.

***

It was difficult not to cum.

As Gerard watched the eager barbarian suck off the half-orc, all the man could think about was how far she had fallen, and in such a short period of time. A day ago she was a known hero who had recently defeated a necromancer, rescuing several villages in the process. She'd never given a blowjob, that much he'd discovered in her simple brain right away. Too proud, of course, too haughty from being raised a princess in a posh castle with a dozen servants at her beck and call. Hers was an ego born of privilege, tempered by war, and hardened from the reputation she'd gained since.

The bitch didn't see herself as a soldier or a princess though. She saw herself as a hero. It was hilarious how highly she thought of herself, how deep her narcissism went. But it explained why she was always on top when she fucked, why she never gave oral, why she was so reluctant to ever consider being with someone like him.

No, a short, ugly man like him had never had a chance with such a proud woman. Only now that was changing. Now here she was on her knees giving a blowjob to a half-orc with all the enthusiasm of a bride on her wedding night.

A *half-orc*! While much more civilized than pure orcs they were still greenskins. How many had she killed during the war? How many had she slain to earn the nickname "Orcslaughter"? Now there she was allowing herself to be used by one.

*You love this. You need this. You are his eager whore.* He kept up the mental barrage on her as he stroked. *You need to cum. It is so easy to cum when you're being treated this way: like a whore. A pathetic, desperate whore.*

"Mmmmmm!" The sounds of her groaning made him want to as well, but he had to stay quiet. He focused again on her brain, her thoughts, trying to organize them for her properly. It was important she get off on the idea of pleasing him, but it was also important to Gerard that she get off on the general idea of being degraded and used.

*Money just to fuck. So simple. Better than adventuring. This feels right. This is what Gerard wants. You want to please Gerard. You want to be his whore. It feels good to be humiliated.*

Gerard pumped his cock with abandon as he watched the scene unfold, never letting go of her thoughts as he did. Gods but she was gorgeous. He couldn't wait to inspect that wonderful body himself. But there would be time for that later. Right now he was relishing his revenge.

In truth the revenge he sought was rather petty. During the war he had pined over her and used all his charm and wit to no avail. Then one day he had feigned serious injury from one of her tosses and she'd carried him to his bed, begging apologies. She'd even helped him undress and had wrapped his upper leg, which had been cut during the throw. That's the closest he'd ever come to bedding this wonderful woman.

Not long after that he'd overheard her referring to him as "short-prick" to some of the men. He could still remember the hurt and shame he'd felt as the men laughed while she recounted wrapping his leg. "I could see tha li'l guy trying to stand up in his trousers," Lace had slurred, her being well into her cups at this point. "Short li'l prick, that one."

It was true that his penis was nothing to write home about. It was short and small just like the rest of him. But hearing her say that had felt like such a betrayal. She had put him to bed, dressed his wound, cared for him... and then hours later saddled him with a nickname that would follow him for the rest of the war and beyond.

Presently he watched as the half-orc pulled his cock from her mouth. The desperation in her eyes had Gerard's cock leaking precum and he knew he had to stop pumping if he was to succeed in his second task of the night. And so he reluctantly let his short little prick go and stuffed it back into his hose leggings. Then, satisfied that Lace's mental state was adequately subdued and broken, he closed the peephole and made his way back downstairs.

It was time to pay Puffer a visit.

***

When the half-orc told her to get on the bed Lace jumped to her feet and did so without any prodding.

"All fours," Gorask grumbled. "I'm gonna take you like the bitch you are."

She shuddered at that. She was a bitch, wasn't she? So mean to Gerard... but not only him. Mean to men in general. Always rejecting them, always seeing them as "lesser". How many men had she emasculated by always insisting on being dominant in bed? How much pleasure had she denied herself because she was so proud and arrogant?

No longer. Now she would do as she was told. She was a whore, a desperate and wanton slut. She was in love with Gerard, and his love for her gave her permission to be her true self. Finally, after some thirty years, her true self...

On her hands and knees atop the wool-stuffed bed, Lace trembled in anticipation as Gorask got behind her. Finally she was going to be properly fucked for the first time in her life. Finally she was going to be the wanton whore she'd always dreamed of being.

Dreamed of being? She paused at that, her thoughts becoming all jumbled. Had she really dreamed of this? She struggled to remember.

Then she felt the head of Gorask's cock at the entrance of her pussy and her thoughts became clear again. Yes, of course she'd always dreamed of this, of being a sexual plaything for men. Whether or not she'd ever dreamed of being an actual whore or not was inconsequential. What mattered was that she wanted to be one now, needed to be one now because...

...because?

"UHMPH!" she groaned. Gorask wasn't being gentle and wasn't taking his time, but was sliding his cock into her warm hole with a strength and determination she'd never experienced before. No trepidation, no loving tenderness, no thought for her own comfort or pleasure. Just a half-human monster, a vile greenskin with a man's need, taking what wasn't hers to give.

It was Gerard's. And this is what he wanted from her. And it made him proud.

She dug her fingers into the mattress and arched her back. "Fuck me... fuck me!" she found herself panting. "Please fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me..."

Gorask laughed. As he started to pound away at her tight, eager pussy he gripped her hair in one hand again and said, "Weak as a kitten, just like I said... another pathetic human female desperate for cock..."

He was right. She was desperate. An orgasm was building in her that went beyond any she'd had before, an all encompassing orgasm that was burning in her loins, in her brain, in her heart. Her whole body was going tense, her breathing ragged as she drooled and begged and finally, finally, she came.

She didn't realize that he was doing the same thing until the first climax crested. Then she could feel something else she'd never experienced: cum filling her pussy. She'd always threatened her partners not to even thinking of cumming inside her, or on her. Normally after she came she made him get out of her and maybe, if he was lucky, she'd give him a few tugs to help him finish. More often she'd tell him to get away from her and finish himself off in private.

Why? Why had she been that way? This was so much better, this feeling of her womb filling with his thick, half-orc seed. She shuddered through a second and third orgasm as he pumped his cum inside her until finally he was spent.

After recovering his breath the half-orc got off the bed. He strode over to the dresser and began to get dressed again. After he was fully clothed in his splendid, fancy clothes, he said, "I suppose I owe you something."

*A purse full of gold!* she thought, giddy at the prospect. But then he walked over to her and place one gold coin and five coppers on the nightstand.

"The agreed price," he said with a smirk.

She frowned. One gold and half a silver? That was enough for a nice meal or a bottom-shelf bottle of wine. Why would Gerard agree to such a low price?

*Maybe he sees me as a cheap whore*, she thought sadly. Then she thought: *Maybe he sees me as a cheap whore... because I am a cheap whore? Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe he can love me anyway...*

As the half-orc chuckled and walked out of the room, Lace smiled. *Yes. He's going to love me. After what I've done for him he'll love me at least a little.*

And a little would be enough.

END OF CHAPTER TWO