(Author’s note: This is a a backer driven story. These are written and posted like my poll driven stories but only the high level Patreon backer the story is being written for gets to see and vote on the polls to determine what happens next.)
“Oi, Audrey! Ya top-heavy slut, bring them huge wobbling titties over here and bring us some fresh ales!”
The men sitting with the man who had shouted at the tavern wench erupted into raucous laughter.
“Top heavy! Ha, you ever seen a Human woman with titties that big? Each one’s AT LEAST twice the size of her head. She puts a Priestess of Ynara to shame with those meaty mountains hanging off her chest and wobblin’ round.”
“Comically oversized,” another said with a lecherous nod. “A surprise that wench can even walk about, and honestly? She’s the whole reason I come to this tavern now. Love watching them jiggle all night long, gives me something fresh in mind to wank to when I get home and my wife turns me away.”
“Your ales,” the tavern wench said coldly, slamming the mugs on the table.
“Awe, calm your tits,” one of the men said. “We’re just having some fun.”
“Maybe you’d prefer if we talked less about them huge titties of yours? I mean, you’re a fine, thick lass. A little older than the average tavern wench, but that just means the meat is more aged. And you got PLENTY of meat on ya, even though some might have a hard time seeing past your huge udders. Always been an ass man myself. And you, lass, got a nice, HUGE fat ass!”
He reached behind the wench and slapped her ass hard enough to make the woman yelp. The glare she shot him only made the men at the table erupt in a fresh bought of laughter at her expense.
She quickly gathered up their empty mugs and made her escape before they got even more handsy.
As she made her way to the bar to deliver the empty cups to the innkeeper she simmered with burning rage, wishing she had a free hand to rub away the stinging pain of the heavy-handed slap to her ass. But even if she’d had the free hand she wouldn’t have done so. Upon taking the job as tavern wench not long ago she’d quickly learned any kind of response like that only egged these foul men on.
This was not what I thought I was volunteering for, she thought bitterly as she went about her duties. I was once one of the Sisterhood of Righteousness’ greatest Knights. Then I was struck by that evil curse that ballooned my breasts to such a ridiculous size. That put an end to my days of questing and ended my direct participation in the fight against evil and perversion.
She sighed, thinking about how glorious life had been before the curse. Adventure. Glory. And then what? Her youth left behind while she wasted away taking on a support role within the Sisterhood. During that time she’d gotten older and a LOT thicker, which had only made her breasts even larger.
Still, she’d endured. Nothing would have made her leave the Sisterhood. She believed in their purpose. Like the Sisterhood she wanted to do everything she could to make the world of Alaria a better place. To protect it from evil and perversion in all its forms, especially from The Corruption which so often was behind any perversion or evil the all-female order fought.
So she’d endured, hating her work as a support member of the Sisterhood even though she’d known the work she was doing was important. But through the many long years she’d never given up the hope of returning to field work, of leaving the safety of a Sisterhood keep to make a difference out THERE.
Then the day had finally come that her commander had agreed to let her take on a mission outside her normal duties.
They’d needed someone to go undercover as a tavern wench in a nearby town, someone the locals had never seen leave the keep. Someone who could show up at the inn the tavern was part of and get a job just by presenting herself. I know it was because of how I look, that was why the owner so eagerly took me on. My cursed breasts would bring in customers for miles. But I had no idea the men would be so vile. To say such offensive, gross things and to be so free with their hands! And I can’t do anything about it… can’t even stop them from touching me, not if I want to keep the job as a serving wench here.
There were days when she thought the job would break her, days when she wanted to run out of the inn, leaving the drunken lechers in the tavern behind, and flee back to the safety of the Sisterhood keep.
But I can’t do that, the mission is too important. And if I run then all the humiliation and abuse I’ve suffered will have been for nothing… I must keep enduring everything these vile drunkards throw at me until I’ve completed my mission.
“Welcome, friends, to the Herald’s Trumpet!”
The shouted greeting pulled the wench out of her forlorn reminiscing. The voice of Galdwin the innkeeper was one she’d grown to hate. Along with the fat bastard’s odious face, she thought bitterly. The man makes my life as much a living hell as these men who verbally abuse and constantly paw at me do.
“Gods be awed,” one of the men who’d just arrived said to the man beside him. “I thought you must have been exaggerating but look at the size of the wench’s tits! I’ve never heard of breasts so large on a Human outside those freaks that worship that perverse goddess of tits. You know the one I’m talking about, right?”
“Ynara,” the man’s friend said while hungrily drinking in the sight of the wench’s breasts barely contained by her low-cut top. “Sad we’ve got none of that goddess’ worshipers around her. But you see now I was right! Getting to watch those huge meat-mountains wobble while she goes about her business was worth the long ride out here to Parham. She and her tits are the only reason I’ll come to this shit hole anymore, especially with those stuffy Sisterhood cunts up in their keep hassling everyone so much these days.”
The wench heard everything the men said as she led them through the busy room to an open table near the back. She hated the way they talked about her as if she weren’t standing right by them. It was just one more little humiliation, like a seasoning atop all the other humiliations she’d end up having to endure through the rest of the night.
The two men openly ogled her tits as she told them what beers the inn had on tap. They only seemed to focus on what she was saying when she began to share the nightly special. “Along with any order, be it drink or food, comes a side of pork strips with our famous mustard sauce.”
“Oi, mate, even if her tits had disappointed it might still have been worth the trip. That mustard sauce is a true treasure! By far the best I’ve ever tasted. And the way it lingers on the tongue for hours… nearly divine! And it mixes so well with ale of every flavor.” He met the tavern wench’s eyes for the first time. “Your cheapest ale and keep it coming, and extra mustard sauce with the pork strips!”
Cheapest ale and extra mustard sauce? They plan on making the most of this trip from wherever they rode in from, she thought unhappily as she went to fill their order. And to arrive so late in the day? They plan to sleep here in one of the rented rooms above. That means they’ll drink till they can’t drink anymore.
Her eyes went to the battered herald’s trumpet sitting on display by the bar in the back of the room. The accursed item was what the inn was named after. She’d come to hate it as much as she hated the men that filled its tavern hall. The tradition was to blast the trumpet when someone reached the point they couldn’t drink anymore. But as the night went on the reason for the use of the trumpet would grow more liberal and less defined.
Every night it heralds the worsening of these indecent drunkards’ behaviors. The more it sounds the more awful everything will become.
When Galdwin handed her the order for the new arrivals he narrowed his eyes. “We want repeat customers,” he said, his voice low and full of firm warning. “You left their table a little too fast. Linger when you return, and make sure you bend down good to let them have a decent look in between those gross bags of fat hanging from your chest. Give them boys a GOOD reason to come back.”
“Yes, ser,” she muttered.
“And do it with an eager smile,” he warned. “You and your tits are an asset, but if you ain’t doing what I tell you then you ain’t worth the coin I pay you. You CAN be replaced, and I KNOW how much you need this job.”
“Yes, ser,” she said, forcing herself to smile. I’ve done too good a job convincing him I was near destitute when I arrived, she thought bitterly. But even if it takes me months to complete my mission I must endure everything here. I just wish letting him see my desperation hadn’t been needed, even if he doesn’t truly understand why I am so desperate to keep this job.
On the way to deliver the men’s order she endured another little torment. She’d never been a fan of the smell or flavor of mustard seed, and since beginning her work at the inn she’d grown to hate it even more. Its “famous” mustard sauce was overly strong and fragrant and the stinking reek of it lingered on the men’s breath for hours.
Every night it’s included on the menu its pungent odor ends up filling the hall, mixed with the bitter breaths of these under-washed cretins, the vile stink of alcohol, and the growing stale reek of too much tobacco. And every night the miasma of stomach-churning odors become harder to endure. Every night it becomes even more nauseating. And every night I find it harder and harder not to need to excuse myself to the bathroom to retch in disgust.
She hated the way she had to bend over to give the men their food and drinks, lingering comically long and pretending she couldn’t hear the crude things about her breasts they were saying.
At least I know these ones won’t get too handsy. They are too new and will be too afraid of crossing a line and being kicked out. She turned and looked at the man who had been so crudely accosting her earlier. It’s HIM I need to be most leery of. The Huntsman, Lockwood. The worst of the bunch, and his cretinous little cronies always follow his lead.
She winced at the sound of Lockwood’s voice, feeling as though thinking of the hated man had somehow drawn her to his attention.
“How can I be of service, ser?” She waited for his answer as if waiting for a slap to the face. He and his compatriots had already been drinking and reveling for some time and she knew the true torments would soon begin.
“Is there anything special on tap tonight?”
The question caught her off guard. No crude comment, no indecent request he knew she wouldn’t fulfill. Having such a mundane request from the man felt like a little vacation she planned to luxuriate in.
“Yes, ser, we do. We have an untapped cask of Black Midnight Grog,” she said before reciting the description included on the cask. “Brewed from the finest hops with a custom concoction of herbs and other aromatics harvested on nights of the dark moon, it is a beer like no other. But drink with caution, for too much will ‘blacken one’s eyes’ till sleep returns your vision.”
She had no idea if the warning was a true one but hoped the drink DID cause temporary blindness. If it did her hopes increased as she saw the Huntsman thinking about ordering the drink. If he ordered the drink the others would follow suit. Then perhaps they’d all end up blinded and unable to see, and thus unable to comment, on her cursed breasts.
“Your largest mug of Black Midnight Grog,” Lockwood declared after thinking. “You know the one, the HUGE one Galdwin reserves for special events. I have a plan to make tonight an evening my boys here won’t forget. Along with this fancy grog I want a fresh round of some simple brown ale for all of us to hold us over till things heat up.”
“As you wish,” she said with a bow. As she left the table Lockwood’s gang was busy asking about the man’s plans. She tried to listen in for as long as she could, nervous about what this would mean for her.
“Young Lockwood must have something wondrous planned if he’s requested THIS mug,” Galdwin the innkeeper said with a chuckle as he filled the huge mug with the special drink. The smile on his face died when he saw the look of nervous apprehension on the wench’s face.
He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her across the bar, her titanic tits knocking a few empty mugs over. “Now you listen here, you fat-titted, tightly cunt-clenched bitch,” he growled under his breath so only she could hear. “You want to keep this job you do whatever they demand, no, whatever they ASK tonight. No request goes unfulfilled.”
She balked. “I am not a whore,” she protested angrily, immediately regretting her words.
The man narrowed his eyes. “A line you’ve drawn. You sure of that?”
She opened her mouth to reply then hesitated. “I need this job,” she muttered, eyes downcast.
“And you remember that. You make them boys happy and maybe I won’t decide it’s time to test how solid that line you’ve drawn before me is. Them boys know I’ve never employed a whore, so they won’t go that far. But you try me, woman, and maybe it’s time I rethink my policy, especially knowing just how much hanging on to this job means to you. You want to leave the line untested? You make them happy. You do EVERYTHING they ask, and you endure it all happily.”
He started to release his grasp on her then stopped, gripping her arm tighter till she groaned in pain. “No, not happily. Not unless they seem to want that. Young Lockwood there, he likes your insolent bursts of anger and the way you squirm. They want you to hate it? You hate it. They want to see you suffer? You don’t try hiding how much you hate enduring this job. Understand?”
“I understand, ser,” she growled. “Now unhand me.”
He finally let her go. “Good. Now go make them, and everyone else here, happy. And make sure you bounce and jiggle them huge meat mountains.”
The first stretch of the night was not as bad as she expected. Lockwood seemed to be keeping whatever he had planned a secret, and as the evening went on she started to think all he had planned was the repeated purchasing of cheap beer for his friends.
Perhaps he’s just come into some extra coin and simply wants to share with those cretins. For a cruel but simple-minded man like him perhaps that’s all he can come up with.
The feeling of relief that he seemed to have nothing special planned wore off as the night went on. It was the sounding of the inn’s namesake that brought down her mood. She knew that each painful, ugly blast of the old herald’s trumpet was a sign of the increasing liberation of the men gathered in the hall’s worst selves. Each blast meant more men were closer to that awful place of inebriation, where their evilest impulses would be freed thanks to the way they would most likely be unable to remember their actions the next day.
Or at least that’s what so many of them claim, she thought, dodging around a hand swinging at her plump ass. She’d never been intoxicated to that point and often doubted the men’s memories were as often affected as they claimed. It’s an armor they don, she thought angrily. An excuse to not have to suffer the consequences of their worst impulses.
With each sounding of the trumpet the improper stares at her breasts became more likely to turn into crude comments. At first these were spoken to friends, but as the night went on they became more directed at her. Crude, foul, indecent things that made her cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger. The kinds of things that normally would end up making a member of the Sisterhood of Righteousness draw steel and prepare for a battle to the death.
Things quickly got worse as they always did. The occasional and often easy to dodge slap of the ass became harder to avoid lingering gropes. Normally that was as far as things went. The men dared to slap and grab her ass, but none had ever dared go farther, and not even Lockwood had ever made to molest her breasts even if he did incessantly promise to.
But that night things would play out differently and that vile Huntsman was the one who led the change in how daring the men all became. Ever new liberty he took with her body was soon followed first by his gaggle of cretins and then, when the others in the hall saw her enduring it, by most of the others.
“Kindly remove your hand from under my dress,” she’d yelped the first time he’d dared slip a hand up her skirts. He’d obliged, but the menacing, lecherous chuckle he barked out was all she needed to know his hand would soon be back.
Soon it returned and dared reach further up, his greasy mustard sauce-covered hand goosing her thick thighs. The next time it went even higher, his fingers brushing against her underwear.
That time she’d slapped his hand away. As she’d retreated from the table the men around Lockwood had been guffawing in delight.
“Did the slut have on any small clothing?” one had demanded.
“Why not slip a hand up there and find out?” he replied with a laugh. “Oi, Galdwin, do we have your approval?” When the innkeeper nodded the table erupted in cheers. They called her back over, at least having enough shame to put in fresh orders for drinks before they tried to take a turn reaching up her skirts to grab at her womanhood.
At first she tried her best to slam her thick thighs shut and prevent the men from doing what they wanted but quickly abandoned that tactic. She saw the men were drunk enough that antagonizing them in such a way might lead down a path she didn’t feel reckless enough to explore. And there were the persistent looks Galdwin gave her, reminding her without words to endure everything dished out to her.
She gave it her all, but with the brushes against her underwear becoming crude grabs of her womanhood she nearly reached her breaking point. She began batting and slapping away arms that dared do more than just “check” to see if she had on underwear.
“That will be enough,” she eventually snapped at one of Lockwood’s goons. “No more,” she declared. “How can you not feel shame treating a woman this way?”
She regretted the outburst even as the words were slipping from her mouth. Galdwin would be furious. Her stomach sank as she feared what would come next, expecting to soon find the innkeeper at her side muttering she was done working for him.
“I think it is you who should be ashamed.” The voice was cold and calm and not spoken by the man she’d expected.
She turned to face Lockwood, the look of anger and outright hatred on his face making her wince.
“Apologize at once,” he demanded.
Once more the tone chilled her. It brought back memories of her youth, tense moments spoken before deadly combat began. The whole room picked up on the man’s sudden change, and with this new mood came quiet across the hall.
“Apologize for what?” she asked nervously, aware of all the eyes in the room on her and Lockwood.
“You’re not some martially trained, tight-cunted Sisterhood of Righteousness warrior,” he began, staring her dead in the eyes. “You’re just a normal woman and you should know your place. Know your worth.”
He broke eye contact and looked around at the men sitting at the table with him. “This is what I had planned. It’s time we teach Audrey here what she really is, what her true worth is.”
Looking back at her he said, “You shall apologize for speaking so harshly to a man. Your worth is as a server of drink and food, and the way your body pleases a man. Being groped is a compliment you should thank a man for, for it expresses he finds your body pleasing to his manhood. Now apologize.”
“Do it, woman,” Galdwin growled from across the room.
She stared at the Huntsman. Shaking in rage, and more than a little fearful about what would happen should she refuse, she apologized.
“Understand, Audrey, our behavior no matter how crude is not something we can be blamed for,” Lockwood said after she’d apologized, his tone lighter and his expression easing. “Your mammoth mammaries are too much!” he declared, looking around the room and raising his hands to encourage others to laugh at Audrey.
They did, causing her face to flush. She wanted to cover her breasts up, to turn and flee from the room in tears. But she didn’t. She held her ground, standing there in silence and enduring.
“Your mammoth mammaries turn men into obscene, ill-composed scoundrels,” Lockwood continued.
The room erupted into raucous laughter and cheers of “Here, here!”
“We are but under the weighty spell of their immense size and, I assume, mind-boggling heaviness.” He met her eyes and smiled evilly. “I’ve complimented you, woman. What is the proper response?”
She gritted her teeth and replied, “Thank you, kind ser, for the most welcome compliment.”
When the man pushed his chair back and rose to his feet her short-lived hope that the awful encounter had ended was dashed. What now? Hasn’t this been enough?
He approached her, the same evil grin on his face. “I don’t know if that was a convincing enough response. I think after that shameful display of disrespect you owe me.”
“And what, kind ser, do I owe you?” she asked, desperately trying to sound placating and pleased to do whatever he wished.
The man stalked behind her, stepping unsettlingly close to her. “What every man in this room wants,” he said quietly.
The lowering of his voice changed the feel of things. Suddenly it felt to her like this was a moment happening between just him and her, the other eyes on them momentarily forgotten.
“I want a feel of those tits of yours.” He did not wait for permission. Lockwood stepped up, pressing his front side into her backend while wrapping his hands around her body. Strong hands grabbed the center mass of her comically oversized breasts, fingers curling as he gripped and lifted as much meat as he could.
“Boys, this moment is one I must share with you all,” he called out, breaking the illusion she felt that the moment of violation was a private one. “Both softer and somehow denser than I imagined they’d be,” he told them all as he groped, mashed, and massaged her breasts.
Audrey froze up, alarmed. The curse that had increased her breasts to their indecent size had done more. They were always unnaturally sensitive to the point that wearing clothing was often a struggle, with just the shifting of cloth being enough to leave her feeling aroused.
Even this man’s crude groping and mashing of her breasts was enough to send a rush of dizzying arousal spreading through her body. It took everything she had to not moan loudly, but she knew she couldn’t. Under no circumstance could she let even one of these men know what having her breasts even crudely touched did to her.
When he let go of a breast she felt a brief flash of relief. Maybe the other hand would soon follow? But no, the hand went somewhere worse, pulling her skirts up so he could slip his hand into her underwear.
Lockwood chuckled as he ran his rough fingers through her pubic hair. She tensed when they went further, finding their way into her fleshy folds till her opening was located. He rubbed at her, wiggling the tip of a finger in that most private of places.
Holding back her moans was even harder as he lightly fingered her. The rough, unskilled breast play had been enough to leave her sopping wet. His delighted chuckles as he worked his fingers through her aroused moisture made it clear to her that he knew what that wetness meant.
She was painfully aware of every eye in the room being on her. Watching her discomfort. Looking for any hint they could interpret as her enjoying being publicly fingered. If he kept going they’d have what they wanted…
The sigh of relief when he withdrew his hand was not something she could prevent. Her groan of disgust when the man put the fingers that had nearly been inside of her in his mouth was something she couldn’t prevent either.
“Delicious,” he whispered in her ear. “You feel how hard you make me?” he added, rocking his hips and pressing his hard member into her ass.
“The feel of my manhood, hard and ready to enter you, is exciting you, isn’t it?” he said louder so everyone in the room could hear. “Perhaps we should drag you under the table so you can revel in my cock, sucking me off as a thank you for getting you so worked up? A tasty sausage snack to hold you over till your shift is done?”
The room grew still. She could feel the tenseness, the way everyone in the place was hanging onto the man’s every word. If he grabbed me by the hair and did drag me under the table they’d go along with it, every single one of them.
She’d never felt such fear, not even when facing down the most dangerous foes she’d fought on the field of deadly combat. If he did try to grab her and drag her under the table she’d not be able to stop it, she was too out of shape and there were far too many of these men to fight.
No… It’s not even about that. I would willingly allow it. I must endure anything and everything till my mission is accomplished, even that. The realization she’d go that far terrified her, the terror increased by the near certainty her commitment to the Sisterhood was about to be so tested in such a manner.
And then one of Lockwood’s men spoke and broke the mood, taking with it the implied danger of the ultimate violation. “Fuck mate, now I want some sausage.”
Lockwood released the tavern wench and returned to his seat. “Then tonight sausage we shall have,” he called out to his boys. “Audrey, a platter of sausage for the table,” he proclaimed.
For a moment she gawked in disbelief at the smile on his face and the tone of his voice. Am I going mad? Did what just transpired, and ALMOST transpire, not really happen? He acts as though it didn’t.
“Oh, and an order of almond pudding,” he added. “Make sure it’s fresh and creamy. And don’t think your hard work tonight will go unrewarded,” he added. “Tell Galdwin when he cooks up those sausages to include the largest, juiciest one he has in his larder for you.”
The whole time Galdwin was preparing their order she hid in the stairwell leading up to the rented rooms on the second floor. It had all been too much and she needed a short respite from her ordeal.
She soon came to regret her retreat. The peace allowed her mind the freedom to dwell on Lockwood’s order. What cruel thing does he intend for the sausage he ordered for me? And why the order of almond pudding? She couldn’t stop herself from imagining the cruel, mocking things he might do with the savory and sweet treats.
“I’m proud of you,” Galdwin told her when the order was finally ready. “There was a moment there, but you recovered and proved your worth. Keep up the good work and perhaps tonight won’t be your last night as I expected.”
“Thank you, ser,” she said as she took the large platter covered in a pile of steaming, freshly cooked sausages. “Keeping this job is the most important thing to me,” she added honestly.
“Oh, I know,” the man said, crossing his arms and grinning at her in a way that unsettled her. For the first time she was left wondering if somehow the odious man knew more than he’d let on till that point.
The fear was quickly forgotten when she turned and saw the eager look on Lockwood’s face.
“Come on, Audrey you great-titted bimbo, we’re hungry! And I suspect you are too. I can see the huge meaty sausage sitting atop that pile from here, the one meant just for you. Come, bring the food, then sit on my lap. I’ll treat you, feed it to you even.”
Lockwood pointed out her ass was so ample he had to push his chair back to make room for it in his lap. “Ah, but boys, it feels great in my lap. All that heavy, finely aged woman! All this thick, soft, dense meat to grab and slap and rub against. A feast for the eyes, and an even more wonderful treat for my cock.” He leaned forward to meet her eyes. “You feel it thickening under you?”
She pursed her lips. “You promised me a treat before I have to return to work,” she said coldly. If I don’t rise to his taunts maybe he’ll grow bored and be done with me.
“The slut wants her treat,” one of the men said with a cruel laugh as she speared the largest sausage with a fork. “Here, Lockwood, no better man than you to give an eager lass his fat sausage.”
“Of course not,” Lockwood said as he took the fork. The others laughed as he held it up, looking from it to them. “What do you think? Long and thick enough to resemble the deadly weapon in my pants?”
Some proclaimed it was while others suggested it wasn’t big enough.
The wench stared at the sausage, realizing her worst fears were about to become true. Her impulse was to spit out some cruel barb about his member, perhaps suggesting he was bragging because his member was shamefully small. She KNEW it was the wrong move but thought she’d not be able to hold back.
Just as she opened her mouth to spit out the retort Lockwood jammed the sausage into her mouth.
“Sorry, couldn’t hear you,” he said with a laugh. “Then again I don’t care what you were going to say,” he added to raucous laughter. “A woman’s mouth is so much more pleasing when it’s put to this kind of use, right boys?”
“Right,” they called out in unison as Lockwood thrust the sausage in and out of her mouth, making her gag on it.
“You know, I think perhaps this lass doesn’t even know how to suck a cock,” he proclaimed as he moved the sausage more slowly in and out of her mouth. “Come on, prove us wrong. Suck it off. Gods, woman, do you not know how to suck a dick? Maybe it’s a good thing Galdwin doesn’t let his tavern wenches whore for some extra money. With your lack of skill even these titanic tits of yours wouldn’t get you many second takers.”
“Still,” he added as he grabbed a breast with his free hand, “seeing these in all their glory might be enough for most men. And when you proved to be a poor cocksucker one could simply grab your head and fuck your face till they are done. I wonder, could you take that?”
To find out the answer he returned to thrusting the sausage violently in and out of her mouth, pushing it in till she gagged then pushing further till she choked on it.
“The almond custard,” he demanded with a snap of his fingers. Someone slid the dessert-filled bowl to him. Yanking the sausage from her mouth he quickly dipped it into the bowl, gathering a huge scoop of the gooey white treat up, then shoved it unceremoniously back into the wench’s mouth. “And look, a happy ending!”
Everyone at the table laughed as the wench, finally reaching her breaking point, shoved Lockwood’s arm, and the sausage, away from her.
“Wait,” he growled, grabbing her as she started to get up. “You did a good enough job letting that sausage use one of your wet holes. But you’ve got a mess to clean up now. You’ve almond custard all over your mouth. And look, some’s spilled on the table. It’s only proper you clean it up, it is a woman’s job to ALWAYS clean up after a man’s sausage’s mess. Wipe it off your face with your fingers. Slip every bit of custard into your mouth and suck your fingers clean. Then lick that bit off the table.”
“Yes, ser,” she said through gritted teeth while shaking with a volatile mix of humiliation and rage.
* * *
“I didn’t believe she’d take it all,” Lockwood whispered to Galdwin as the two stood by the stairs leading up to the rented rooms. “But you were right, any humiliation and liberty given and she endured it all.”
“Just as I promised,” Galdwin replied. “So, are you willing now to pay the price I asked for the night with her? And remember, lad, the price was not just for you. You AND all your boys. I predict it won’t even be that hard to trick her into the room with you all.”
Lockwood pulled out a fat sack of coins, weighing it in his hand for a moment. “It IS a lot of money,” he said, voice full of doubt. “I’d I’ve already spent so much tonight…” Then he looked out at the woman he knew as Audrey and that doubt melted away. “But I think it will be worth every coin,” he said, dropping the pouch into the man’s open hand.
“Some of my boys know a few tricks,” he said as he stared hungrily at the tavern wench, watching her endure things that patrons wouldn’t have dared before that night but he knew would now be the norm for her. “One of them knows a little spell. If she’s a screamer, which I expect her to be at least this first time, it would keep the sound from being heard outside the room.”
“Oh, no,” Galdwin said, looking appalled. “Please don’t! I hope the dumb cunt screams all night long. I want everyone to know I’ve changed my policy on whoring my wenches out, and that ANYTHING can be done to this one. She’s already doubled my income with those ridiculous cow’s udders she wobbles around with. After tonight she’ll triple my income at least.”
Lockwood raised a skeptical eyebrow at the man. “Surely after what we plan to do to her she’ll at the very least leave your employ. I’m more than a little worried the bitch will flee to the Sisterhood keep and plead for vengeance against us. I’d thought maybe you’d have some kind of memory charm or potion to make her forget the night’s events…”
The innkeeper waved away the man’s concerns. “You need not worry.”
“And why is that?” the Huntsman asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What hold do you have over her?”
“Trust me, lad,” Galdwin said, looking past Lockwood at a cloaked stranger who had just entered the inn. “Perhaps the night would have broken her, perhaps I’d let things go too far. Perhaps she WOULD have run to the safety of the keep if I’d not taken steps to ‘ease’ her memories of the night tomorrow morning. I did have plans to do that. But now? Now that won’t be needed,” he said.
“Why?” Lockwood asked.
“It’s none of your concern,” the innkeeper said firmly. “Just trust me. She’ll endure anything you do to her tonight and we won’t even need to take precautions in the morning.”
“If you say so,” Lockwood muttered. “I honestly don’t care. I’ve been waiting for this night for a long time, even if you’re wrong I’ll deal with it in the morning.”
“I’m not wrong,” the innkeeper promised as he stared at the woman going by the false name of “Audrey”.
He was waiting for a special moment. There, he thought excitedly. She’s noticed the stranger. Recognized them and knows they are the one she’s been waiting for. Oh yes, she’ll endure anything now that the goal of her secret mission here has revealed themselves. Oh yes… now she’ll truly endure ANYTHING.