Uncaged by Kat Orion
erotic fantasy short story
length: short story
An imprisoned bard finds freedom in a way he never imagined, but which will bring him great pleasure.
Whoever came down the corridor carried a lantern and the glare blinded me.
The sound of water sloshing and a muttered curse floated to my ears. I smiled, for the feminine voice held the slight lilt of the Northern lands, the place I had once called home. A wave of homesickness washed over me so hard my gut clenched.
“Ilesethe,” I forced the ritual greeting through my parched throat.
The footsteps slowed.
I didn’t know whether I should call out again or wait. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long, for the footsteps resumed. The swirl of a robe caught my attention, an ash gray robe tied with a yellow sash. I smiled.
My mind proved to be more nimble than my body, as I realized that this was a Tantaran priestess. Although I couldn’t be certain what the yellow sash meant, I knew it wasn’t the black of the pain sect, or the purple of the spanking sect. I had heard of such clergy, but had never witnessed them before.
“Ilesethe,” I said again. My body functioned one step behind my thoughts, for I felt my cock swell with the promise of pleasure.
She halted by my cell, and even in the dim light I saw she was beautiful. Long black hair cascaded around her face, framing skin as pale as that of the legendary Nautchillen, mages who only worked at night. She licked lips red with promise, and I swallowed hard. She glanced at my frame, from the tangled blond hair to the erection now trying to slip past the torn folds of my pants.
“Ilesehte,” she replied, and the ritual greeting of “beautiful one” took on a new meaning for me. “Would you accept the blessings of the Goddess?” she asked.
“For you,” I replied, hoping my bard’s tongue wouldn’t fail me, “I would accept her punishments as well.”
She smiled then, this Tantaran priestess, and set the pot of water on the floor by her feet. She knelt, not caring that the dirty ground might soil her robe. “Step closer to the bars,” she ordered in her soft, lilting voice.
I obliged. The cool metal pressed against my thighs, and I saw that she now reached for my hard shaft. Her tender hands sliding my torn and dirty britches out of the way nearly undid me. I groaned low in my throat, and when she scooped the tepid water into her hand and began to stroke the entire length of my shaft, I thought I would come right there.
“The guards,” she said as if she weren’t working her exquisite fingers around my cock and balls, “said that I may minister to any prisoner I saw fit.”
“I am fit, my lady,” I struggled to get the words out.
She chuckled. “Yes, bard, you are quite fit.” She used the end of her robe to pat me dry. As she did so, a tiny drop of pearlescent liquid formed on the head, and she leaned over and used her tongue to lick it clean.
“Dear God,” I moaned, leaning my forehead against the bars of the cell.
“Have you heard of the slave auction of Tierancu?” She laved her tongue along the underside of my cock, the most sensitive place.
I nearly jerked away from her ministrations if that was what she wanted of me, but her hand tightened around my balls, holding me in place. “I have,” I gasped as she encompassed me in her mouth.
Her lips and tongue moved along my shaft, a slow, gentle sucking motion that had me closing my eyes and rocking my hips into her mouth. Her soft moans bespoke of her own pleasure, and I clenched my hands around the bars for support.
She pulled her lips away. “I shall suggest to the king that you be taken to the slave auction. You will fetch the kingdom a great price.” She resumed working on my hard cock. Her teeth scraped my head and the pain mingled with the pleasure nearly drove me over the edge. I’d do anything as long as she kept her tongue and lips around my cock, as long as she sucked me into oblivion. I thrust harder now. My own release was close, as I suspected hers was from the way she made little whimpering noises around my cock and balls.