Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
I shift uncomfortably, shooting a sidelong glance at Valen. He’s watching with heavy-lidded eyes and I can see a definite bulge in his trousers. I guess watching this makes him hard? Goddess above…
Why shouldn’t it make him hard—it’s making you wet, isn’t it? whispers a little voice in my head. And somehow my eyes return to the sight of the Sorceress being pleasured by all three of her husbands at once.
I want to look away. I know I should. But I cannot. I’m frozen—caught between shock and fascination. How can she do this right in front of us? And why am I still watching?
She takes her pleasure without shame, without fear. This is her throne room, her power. These men do not command her—they serve her. And she revels in their devotion.
Is this what red beard at the Slaughtered Lamb meant? That here, in this place, women rule and men obey? I remember him saying that the Sorceress believed that women ought to be in charge and how he laughed as though it was a silly notion. But the three muscular knights bending to her will don’t seem to think so.
“Mmm, I love a woman who knows exactly what she wants,” Valen murmurs and gives me a look.
Heat coils low in my belly and my cheeks flame as I remember the things we did together last night. The way he touched me and made me come so hard…the way I sucked him. Goddess above, I shouldn’t be thinking such things…
At last, the Sorceress taps the heads of her lovers. The red and green knight both withdraw, letting her tight pink nipples slip from their lips but the black knight between her legs keeps licking until she tugs at his hair.
“Enough, Horatio, my love,” she says breathlessly. “For I must attend to our guests.”
At last, with obvious reluctance, the black knight pulls back and rises. His mouth and chin are shiny and wet. He steps back and I can see between the Sorceress’s legs. Her pussy lips are swollen and dark pink, opening to show the pearl of her clit—clearly the black knight pleasured her well.
All three of them take up places around her, like an honor guard and she smiles approvingly.
"Very good, my husbands," she says with a regal nod. Her cheeks are pink and her pale eyes are bright with pleasure. “Always so willing to serve. How did I get so lucky to have all three of you?” Then she turns to me. "And now… why do you not have your man pay you obeisance?"
"Oh… um…" I’m suddenly filled with confusion. I can’t let Valen do those things to me—especially not in front of stranger, can I?
Before I can answer, Valen steps forward.
"Indeed, my Mistress. I would be more than happy to pay obeisance to you,” he rumbles, his eyes dark with desire.
Panic surges in my chest. I can’t do this! Not here—not now!
"And I would welcome your, er, ministrations. Except I'm so very hot and dusty from the road," I say quickly, stepping back.
The Sorceress laughs. It is a sound like silver bells tinkling.
"Ah, of course. Forgive me. You must refresh yourselves. One of my husbands will show you to your rooms."
"Thank you, Lady…” I trail off uncertainly. What honorific or title would be correct? I don’t want to offend her by misnaming her.
“You may call me Lady Thornmere,” she says, smiling gently. “For the forest is my home and my heart and I am its guardian. Now go, and be renewed. We shall speak again soon of what you seek."
She gestures to Horatio.
"Take them to the Easternmost Bough."
The black knight bows. "Come,” he says to me and Valen.
Since there doesn’t seem to be anything else to do, we follow him.
But still, I feel the echo of the Sorceress’s pleasure humming in the air around me and I have to wonder…
What have we stepped into?
43
VALEN
Horatio leads us out of the throne room and up a tall spiral staircase which climbs ever upward, winding like a serpent toward the heart of the sorceress’s domain. Each step creaks beneath our weight, though not from age—no, the wood here is very much alive. I can feel it pulsing faintly beneath my feet, as though the entire stair is part of some massive slumbering creature that breathes, slow and deep in its enchanted sleep.
It’s not too fucking surprising, I guess—after all, we are inside a tree.
A living tree—older than any structure I’ve ever seen. The interior gleams with sap-polished grain and the handrails curve like the ribcage of some ancient beast. Even the walls sigh softly around us—breathing, pulsing with some verdant magic that keeps the tree alive despite being hollowed out to form this twisted stronghold.
How in the Gods’ names is it still alive? What kind of sorcery does she wield to preserve a place like this? I wonder, but there are no answers—only more questions.