Anya Surprised

"Oh, oh, oh!" she cried. Without even realizing it, her legs lifted into the air, her hands holding them apart, opening her sex to him. Jannon's oral attentions brought her higher, and putting her legs behind her elbows, her hands reached down to caress his hair and face. As her need rose yet higher, she urged him with gentle pressure to maintain clitoral contact.

Responding to her excitement, one of his hands dropped down, and he pushed two fingers into her slick passage. Her moans deepened and her hips bucked while his tongue flicked and fingers probed. Building faster and faster, he lathed her slit until Anya suddenly gasped, before letting out a long, low sound. Holding him firmly, squeezing her legs around his head, pleasure, almost unendurable, washed through her, gushing from her pussy.

Jannon rose up and grabbed her legs. Pushing them onto his shoulders, he fully mounted her, groin to groin, in one stroke. Anya yelped in surprise at the sudden invasion. He grabbed her shoulders and began a rapid, rough pounding into her flowing center. Shaking from the force of his thrusting, each time withdrawing until his cock lay just inside her, then with a hard, wet slap against her groin, his hardness drove deep, parting her. Anya grunted, each thrust filling her, brushing her womb. She arched her back, opening herself to him. Then, surprising herself, she came again. When her mind cleared a bit, his hands dropped to her hips. She realized he must be close. Reaching down, she dug her nails into his pistoning buttocks, pulling him tighter. One stroke, two, and then he gripped her firmly, grinding from side to side, as she felt his cock swell and spasm deep inside. Spurt after spurt filled her again, and Anya shook as a smaller orgasm washed over her.

Jannon took another deep breath, slowly letting her legs down. Anya winced at how stiff they were. He started moving again, slowly, gently.

Anya put both hands on his chest, shaking her head. "No. No more."

He stopped, still inside of her.

Anya felt not just naked, but totally revealed under his intense gaze. "You–you're the first in a long time. I'm getting sore."

He caressed her cheek. Putting his hands on her face, he leaned forward to kiss her, but she turned away. He frowned. "What's the matter, Anya?"

"No kiss," she said, not looking at him.

"Now you're being silly."

"I am not!" Her head snapped back, green eyes flashing. "No kiss! Not this way!"

"Not this way? You know another way to mate? The positions change, but to produce a child, the man enters the woman and puts his seed inside her pussy." Eyes locked to hers, he leaned down until his face nearly touched her, and whispered, "Am I repulsive?"

Startled, she blinked, then turned away from his gaze. "No, Jannon, you're not."

"I gave you what you wanted, didn't I? You even had pleasure in it. Why not a kiss?"

Anya faced him, her voice quiet. "I wanted to be taken and you took me, and yes, you gave me pleasure. But you didn't ask me first. Kisses are for lovers. We just fucked. Now let me up."

Jannon looked at her searchingly, but her face was a mask of neutrality. Turning away, he nodded, and there was a sucking noise as he withdrew from her. Helping her sit up, he went to a corner table holding a pitcher and basin. Pouring water, he picked up a towel, soaked and wrung it, then handed it to Anya. She frowned, then grudgingly took it, thoroughly wiping her crotch, thighs, and belly. When she was done, he took the towel, rinsed it, and cleaned himself.

He watched as she pulled up her dress and re-buttoned it, then adjusted the sash and the small coin purse within its folds. Three passes of her hands and arcane muttering, and everything about her was back in place, from the crease of her dress down to the last strand of brushed hair. A faint smell of jasmine emanated from her.

As she retrieved her hat, he watched her while tucking his tunic into his trousers. Jannon cleared his throat. Anya looked at him askance, a riot of emotions within her.

"What you say is true," he said, "I didn't ask you directly. Please believe me when I say I would never knowingly hurt you. You could have said no anytime and I would have stopped." He reached down and pulled on his last boot, tapping the heel to adjust the snugness. "Obviously what happened bothers you. What do you want to do about it?"

"I don't know!" she snapped. "Whatever I —"

Just then, the clock on the mantle chimed. Ten times.

"Ten bells?" Anya swore, shaking her finger furiously at him. "I was supposed to meet Dalinda an hour ago! Until I return, you stay here! Is that clear? I don't want you chasing after me or hovering around."

"Yes, my Lady."

Anya flung open the door with a crash, storming into the hall. "Chanli? Chanli! Where are you?"

The young, blue-eyed, blonde guardswoman hurried down the hall. "Here, Lady!"

Anya held out her hand. "I am very late, and since I don't want to be any later, we're traveling by magic. Give me your hand. Come on! Don't be shy!"

Chanli gulped and nodded.

Anya firmly grabbed her hand, while the other moved in an arcane pattern. "Jovahn esh mish kemsa!" And they vanished with a pop in the air.

* * * * * * * Chapter 3 * * * * * * *

Anya and Chanli arrived on the doorstep of the Whisper Wind manor. Protective spells kept her or any other unexpected guests from appearing within the house itself. Only immediate family had the privilege of magically transporting directly into the manor. The magic required was extensive and expensive, but a process that anyone with money or power employed to keep out interlopers – or worse. Anya's mother had put similar enchantments about her own residence here in the capital.

A pale Chanli struggled with the jolting after-effects of teleportation. Anya ignored her and rapped on the entrance.

After a moment, a guard opened the door. Seeing her, he bowed. "Lady Anya."

Anya recognized him, but couldn't recall his name. "I know I'm late, but I was unavoidable detained. Is Dalinda ready?"

The guardsman shook his head. "The governess? No, Lady, she left just after nine bells. Three household guard went with her."

"Oh. I see. All right. Well, is Lady Tia about?"

The guard looked serious. "Forgive my presumption, Lady Anya, but I must ask, is this a life or death emergency?"

Anya pursed her lips. "No, not really. Why?"

"My instructions from Captain Hunter were quite clear. Life or death emergencies are the only reasons to interrupt Lady Tia, Lady Mindal, or Lord Reison today. It's just Marta, the baby, and myself minding the front door until late tonight. Everyone else is on holiday by Lady Tia's express orders. Marta and I are a poor substitute, but if you wish, Tilly the cook has left a lot of prepared food in the kitchen. I would be happy to butler for you."

Anya refused to go home as there were too many questions to deal with. Nor could she go see her mother. Far too many more questions there. Tia was her priest and her friend. Right now, she needed both. Anya sighed, shaking her head. She didn't want to disturb her friend's private holiday with her husband. "No, thank you. Your offer of hospitality does your Household credit. We're not staying. Mother's Blessing to you and your family."

"Thank you, Lady. May the Son of Heaven grant your own request," he grinned, nodding at her dress and sash.

Anya pinked as she nodded and left, her pace brisk.

Chanli hurried to catch up, wondering at her mistress's mood. Women who put on the dress and sash were usually happy, even frisky. Her mistress didn't seem to be either.

In twenty minutes, they reached the fringe of the city center where the holiday marketers and street vendors were established. The avenues and boulevards were filled with people of all sorts. Rustic farmers with their early summer produce, merchants extolling wares, gawky girls, gangly boys, and agile little children wending between and about the many adults on their business, the poor beside the wealthy, most eager for the sights and not a few seeking a bit of loose coin. Street musicians busked beside knickknack makers hawking goods next to sellers of juice and ale and food. Meat on a stick. Dripping bread patties filled with beans, cheese and hot spices. A plethora of pastries and sumptuous sugar confections. Smells and noise and heat filled the air, and color was everywhere.

Some grinned at Anya, and more than one man made invitation, but she ignored them. Anya still hoped to catch sight of Dalinda, but she knew it was a slim chance. The light of the three suns beat down, turning the air hot and close. If only she'd had something of the governess, she could use a tracking spell, but she did not. Only a few of the spells she knew were divinatory. After nearly two hours of brisk walking, Anya halted, thirsty. Her sudden stop startling Chanli, and they nearly collided.

"Enough of this," Anya said. "Let's go find a tavern and cool off for a bit."

"Yes, Lady." Chanli wiped her brow, relieved. She had hoped for a more leisurely exploration of the streets. The linen shirt under her chain armor was soaked, and the occasional breeze was insufficient to do more than tease. Given a choice, Chanli would have worn leather instead, but her lieutenant had insisted on heavier protection.

Anya looked about, then seemed to notice her guard. "I'm sorry. This hasn't been a very grand assignment for you, has it? It's probably over thirty degrees cee right now. My power over the elements is rather limited, but maybe this will help." She gestured quickly, uttering a terse phrase Chanli didn't quite catch. Anya touched her on the shoulder. The weight of the heavy chain was gone.

Startled, Chanli checked to make sure it was still there. "It–it's light! I don't feel it at all!"

"I think that will help. It will last until tomorrow. Not as good as an ice-cold drink, but we're going to remedy that deficiency next anyway. Perhaps I should ask you for your recommendation?"

"My Lady?"

"It doesn't have to be fancy, just clean."

"Yes, Lady." Chanli looked around. "Well, the Black Stallion is near here, but—"

"But what?"

Chanli looked unhappy. "It's on the other side of the barrier."

Anya frowned. "And that's a problem?"

The guard looked down, embarrassed. "No, Lady."

"Just lead the way," she snapped.

As they rounded the corner onto West Starshine Road, Anya spied a sign for a public house. Sappho's Fountain, established 2087. The sign was freshly painted. Below it was the male symbol, crossed out.

Women only, Anya mused. "Stop. What about that one?" she asked, pointing.

"Not a good choice, my Lady."

Anya saw several women enter. "It looks reputable. And it's closer. Let's go."

"No!" Chanli grabbed her arm. When Anya glared, she let go. "Please, Lady. You might get hurt."

"I want something to drink, and food is starting to sound good as well. What kind of danger could I be in?"

"It's women only," Chanli explained, moving to block her further.

"I can see that! Now let's go!"

The guard blocked her way firmly, though her eyes betrayed her uncertainty. "If they let you in, and they probably won't, like as not you'll attract the wrong kind of attention."

Anya frowned. "I'm getting real tired of my guards telling me what to do and meddling in my decisions. I'm about two seconds from sending you home."

"Lady, the custom is lesbian or bisexual. Your dress and sash tell everyone you're looking to mate. With men," Chanli emphasized. "Some might take it as a joke, but others might think you were looking for a fight, for sex, or maybe both. And they probably won't take 'no' for an answer."

Anya stared blankly as it sank in. "I see."

"May I speak freely, Lady?"

"Please."

"You don't really strike me that way, but if you're into the rough stuff, I might know a few places. You know. Safe words, nothing permanent."

Startled, she looked at the guardswoman thoughtfully. "Maybe later. I hardly get enough of the regular action. But right now, the only thing I want inside of me is cold ale."

Chanli smiled, nodding in complete understanding. "This way, my Lady."

* * * * * * * Chapter 4 * * * * * * *

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Jaima entered Captain Fisher's office, carrying a tray. "I brought dinner up. The cook said you haven't been down all day."

He sat in his chair, staring out the window. "Take it back."

Jaima set the tray on his desk. "Roberto couldn't wait to talk about your long conversation with her Ladyship this morning. Seems he heard certain noises."

Moving around the desk, she caught sight of the Purge Knife lying on the desk. Such curved blades, with their distinctive markings and red hilts, were given to young Ba'lorian women who survived their Rite of Adulthood, by close relative. Many were centuries old. The sole purpose of the knives were to ritually kill a rapist. Until then, they were stored securely, and were not displayed openly.

"What are you doing with this and why is that here?" she demanded.

He turned to look at her, his face calm. "Did you know I had a sister? I did. Melanie. I still miss her, Jaima. She didn't survive her Rite, so it passed to me."

Jaima closed the door, pulled a chair around the desk and sat in front of him. "Jannon, look at me. Why is this Purge Knife on your desk? It doesn't have to do with the sin-Duchess, does it? Say it doesn't!"

"That depends on what she decides. I don't think it'll come to that, but one never knows, do they?"

"You were supposed to talk to her! Did you?"

"Yes and no."

Incredulity warred with fear in her face. "What the blazes does that mean? Did you tell her you love her?"

"No."

"But you did have sex? I mean that was practically the—"

"Yes, we had sex."

"Holy Mother of Rena and God's Great Blue Balls! This is so unreal! You can't tell her you love her, but you have no trouble stuffing your cock into her!" There was real hurt in her voice. Standing, she picked up the Purge Knife and shook it at him. "Jannon, she is my kinsman! If she says rape, I'm going to have to help kill you! In the traditional way!" Beaten by women of the victim's House. His name struck from the membership rolls of his own kinsmen. Castration and disembowelment. Cursed to wander as a ghost.

Enraged, Jaima whirled, kicking a wooden chair so firmly it flew across the floor, crashing into a table against the wall, knocking it over. Then she kicked his desk a few times before heaving it over, scattering books, papers, and the dinner tray. Glassware and ceramics shattered with a loud crash. Jaima pounded the knife hilt against the wall a couple of times before shaking her fist at him. "Damn you, Jannon! Damn you!" Tears streamed down her face.

Outside, a distant yell and the sound of boots running closer could be heard. A pause, then the door burst open. Tamaron Boatswright, sword and dagger drawn, ran in. Behind him stood Eleanor Whitestar, scanning the room, her Elven longbow drawn with arrow at the ready.

Seeing no enemies, Tamaron hesitated, perplexed by Jaima's pacing and dark scowl while his captain sat calmly amongst the debris. Jaima vented with another kick to the overturned desk.

Unsure, Tamaron cleared his throat. "Everything all right? We heard a noise."

Jannon nodded. "Personal discussion. I think the worst is over." He paused, his eyes narrowing on the guardsman. "I thought you were supposed to be off tonight."

In the doorway, the elf eased the draw on her bow and stalked off, disgruntled by the false alarm. Sheathing his weapons, Tamaron shrugged. "Lost a bet. No money, so I decided to stay close. We did have that attempted burglary last year about this time."

"Very well. Please close the door on your way out."

Tamaron glanced at his lieutenant, his eyes widening at the Purge Knife in her hand. Jaima glared at him, then turned away, wiping her eyes. Seeing his captain's darkening look, he snapped a salute. "Yes, sir."

When they were alone again, she plunked down on the overturned desk, sniffing and rubbing her cheeks on her sleeves. "All right, rank or no rank, you talk to me! Tell me everything that happened. And I want it all." Her dark eyes were bright with pain and anger.

Jannon sighed. "After you left, I went downstairs and waited to intercept her. I met her, but I wasn't prepared for the reality."

He looked out the window, daylight rapidly fading to twilight. Light globes in the room were within easy reach, but neither one moved to activate one. Outside, lamp lighters worked their simple magic, turning on the street lights.

"I suppose I should have just gone to her quarters after I spoke with you," he continued. "Who knows? Useless speculation now. Anyway, I told her I wanted to talk to her in private, and I refused to be put off. She was angry, but she did as I asked. God, seeing her in that dress!"

Jaima shook her head. "You still don't get it, do you? Her mother is the one who can read minds, and then only under the right circumstances. Anya is just a woman. She can read the subtle cues men sometimes use, but you can be just like a wall, Jannon. She doesn't know how you really feel because you've never told her. What's worse, you made me promise not to say anything! And Lawgiver help me, I honored it."

Jannon stared out the window.

Jaima gestured at him. "All right, I'm done. Go on."

"When she turned to go into the office, I saw she wasn't wearing underwear. Then the smell hit me."

"The smell?"

"When a woman is excited, ready for coupling. Yes, well, I was hard before I realized it. And I was already angry about her going places without a guard. A trip downtown is not like a visit to her parents. I would actually be comfortable with her visiting her parents without one of us along. The Duchess is a most formidable woman. Daughter of Saint Charlotte and younger sister to the Queen. A Master of the Northern Star Mages, High Priestess, and like the queen herself, a very strong psionicist – you know, those people who can do things just by thinking about them? One of the kindest and most compassionate women I've ever met, the duchess is also one of the few people I'd be really terrified of if she ever became angry with me. Anyway, I told Anya I didn't want her sneaking off without an escort. She was mad, but conceded the point."

Jannon rubbed his face with his hands before continuing. "I think it was jealousy more than anything. Knowing she was going out for the purpose of getting pregnant. Knowing she wanted breeding, that she was ready for it was more than I could stand. Even if she went out afterward, I had to have her. I deliberately made her admit what she was going to do, what she wanted. Then I took her."

"Did she say stop?" Jaima leaned forward, the knife in her hand gripped tightly, fearing his next words.

"Yes, she did. And I stopped."

Jaima exhaled with relief, then she shook her head. "Hold on. I'm confused. If you stopped when she said no, did you or didn't you mount her?"

"I was getting ready for a fourth coupling when she asked me to stop."

Jaima's eyes widened. "Fourth? You fucked her three times? I'm pretty sure it's been a while for her. Years at least. It's a wonder she could even walk!" Then she grinned. "She must not have been too upset if she let you cream her pussy three times. She must have leaked like a faucet!"

"The point, as she reminded me afterward, was that I didn't ask. After I got her to admit what she was going to do, I told her to be quiet because I was going to give her what she wanted."

"If she was as ready as you say, why didn't you ask? She might not have even gone out!"

Jannon looked away, embarrassed. "We were arguing. Again. As you said this morning, it seems to be what we do these days. Sometimes I think she takes a contrary point just to fight. As angry as she was, she could very well have said no, and seeing her, smelling her readiness, the possibility of rejection was more than I could stand." He sighed. "I got what I wanted, and she got what she wanted, but I betrayed her trust in the process. And no, I didn't get around to telling her I love her."