The Temptation of Gheeran

Home. Ya'tyrr had kicked me out of mine and now, stumbling through the night with only my magical ring to guide me, each step again felt like a new foray into unknown territory.

Almost as if to remind me that I wasn't alone, I could hear faint noises further ahead. So there were people out here. Blind luck, huh? I sped up my steps. I had to walk only a few meters before I heard the voices. And then they noticed me.

"State your name and business or I'll... shoot!" someone yelled. By now, every highwayman, brigand and monster in earshot would be on the way, because in the dead of night, sounds carry on for miles and miles. And this stupid person just yelled at the top of their lungs. I stopped dead in my tracks and listened intently. Some beast snorting, then another voice, female, trying to whisper.

"Dad, we're out of bolts!"

"He doesn't know that!" the other voice whispered back. If there was one thing dark elven ears were made for, it was catching careless whispering. Ever wondered why we had these sexy points? Bigger receptors equals sharper hearing. And he just blew his bluff. A well-armed man, one accustomed to fighting, wouldn't have yelled, he would have shot first and asked questions later. Especially in the middle of nowhere. As long as they didn't have any other ranged weapons, I would be safe. Grinning to myself, I strode closer.

"The way I see things," I began, fishing for my enchanted throwing dagger, "it's as follows. You're stranded out here, away from any wayside shelter." Another careful step. Then I heard the whistling. A lifetime of paranoia helped and I flung myself back. With a solid "thunk," something buried itself into the muddy road just a few feet in front of me. Gingerly I slipped forwards until the edge of my perception caressed the item. It was a long-hefted hatchet, the kind made for chopping down trees and throwing at unsuspecting drow. I cursed silently; totally forgot about those.

"Want to throw anything else my way?" I asked, hefting the weapon. "Hey, why don't we start again? I'm not here to hurt or rob or ravish you. But then, if you insist on the ravishing, I'm your dar... man."

"Darmen? What's that?" the female voice asked. Seriously? Well, these were no adventurers. Maybe some farmers on their way to - hope against hope - Storm Harbour!

"Ummm. Just a very handsome species of traveller, that's all," I improvised. "Listen, if you need help, maybe I can help."

"And you're sure you're no marauding highwayman or dark elf?" the male voice, Daddy, asked.

"Do I look like a dark elf to you?" I brazenly asked back, lowering my hood. Hey, I held the axe, what could possibly go wrong?

"Now that you mention it, no, not really," the girl said. Wow. There's naïve, doe-eyed country girl, and then there was this little thing here.

"No?" I asked, teasingly swaying my hips. "No dark elf?"

"No. Everyone knows that dark elves are at least this big and they have red-glowing eyes which you can see in the dark for ever and they have these large tusks growing out of their mouths and wings and—"

"Hush, Marigold, don't blather," Daddy cautioned.

There was curiosity and there was horrified fascination. Hadn't they ever heard of dark elves before? The area between Storm Harbour and the huge, almost impassable Frostguard Mountains was notorious for the frequent drow raids, what with all those tidy small farming villages dotted across the countryside and that wonderfully hilly landscape, so ripe with all manner of orchards, fields and cave entrances leading into the Depths.

"You're not from around here, I take it?" I had to ask.

Marigold answered, and I could hear her radiant smile. "No, we're from across the mountains. Took us almost three months, and the snow on the high passes..."

"And what exactly is bringing you to Storm Harbour?"

"How do you know, good sah?" Daddy asked.

"Well, it's easy. You wouldn't take a three-month trip just to visit some relatives in River Crossing or Valcrest, now would you? No relative is worth crossing the mountains before the snow had thawed off enough."

"No, you're right. Daddy is a gem cutter and—"

"By the rocks and the earth, child, shut up," Daddy hissed. "For all we know, he could be a highwayman. It's awfully late."

Somewhere in the distance, a cockerel went off.

"Or rather early," Daddy corrected himself.

"Listen. Here's a tip for surviving the open roads. First, Highwaymen rarely come alone. Then, they usually don't waste their breath with banter, only after they have secured the valuables and are arguing who gets their first stab at the... let's say, less material goods."

"Huh?" both Daddy and Marigold asked.

"Your maidenhood. You can only lose that once, and it's a highly sought-after prize in certain circles. Anyway, since there are no more of me—"

"Which we know of," Daddy cut in.

"No more of me hiding in the ditch or the field over there, why don't I help you fix your cart and we could be off to Storm Harbour before real misfortune finds us?

"And what reward would you like for your aid?" Marigold asked. I had some ideas, but with Daddy around, that would have to wait. And she sounded awfully small.

* * * *

They say wisdom comes with hindsight. In hindsight I shouldn't have offered my help, because holding up the cart, even with all the stuff you need for a three-month trip removed from it, was deadly for my back. Marigold indeed was small as I found out when she came to reclaim the hatchet, no more than slender three and a half feet.

Apart from a never-ending barrage of questions, she had precious little to offer in the way of raw lifting power while Daddy, or more appropriately Handley, the gem cutter, rummaged under the cart, replacing a busted wheel mount. Eventually, my torment ended and I sat, back aching, wedged between rolled-up bedrolls and warm blankets. Handley and Marigold were in front, softly talking to themselves. Maybe they were discussing what to do with this dodgy traveller, but at least they kept true to their word and offered me a ride to Storm Harbour, Before we left, I heard Handley stash a small lockbox full of rattling somethings under the driver's seat. The constant creaking and swaying of the cart, fighting in the well-worn wheel ruts, had a soothing effect, and before I knew it, I was out like a light.

The dream was wonderful. I dreamed of Arach, her silky smooth lips, the nether ones, tightly wrapped around my rod, hardened by a generous helping of a certain salve which the priestesses of the Chaos Queen always had at hand. The stuff guaranteed nights-long endurance for their twisted rituals. It also had the added benefit of dulling down my own arousal, so that I would only spew my seed when properly stimulated, which in that special case necessitated Neer'din shoving his sizeable tool up my rear entrance. Good times.

Then Hael'quira ordered poor Arach to clean off Neer'din, after he was done ravaging me. Arach had climbed onto my lap, taken both of my hands and placed them on her breasts as she feigned unholy arousal, licking Neer'dins slickened dick. I didn't remember Arach purring against my chest or her arms around my neck. She needed both hands to keep Hael'quira's chief henchman from ramming his tool down her throat... Wait. That required further investigation.

I forced my eyes open, only to remember that I had no eyes to open. No eyeballs, no lids, no lashes, just a pocked crater landscape where once my eyes had been. And there were fingers, caressing the wrinkled mass of scars. Irritated, I shook my head, now fully awake. There really was someone sitting on my lap, a firm behind rubbing against my crotch. My hands came up and I quickly patted the body down. Her hair was long and done in a thick braid which hung almost down to her waist.

"Hey, that tickles," Marigold purred into my shoulder. She wore a simple kirtle under a thick cloak, which she had tossed over the both of us, blanketing us from the occasional draft slipping under the cart's tarp. That was odd. No girl of three and a half feet should have that much cleavage. But there was no mistaking it, the little minx sported a decent handful.

"What about that?" I asked, squeezing gently.

"Hmmm, that's nice. Don't stop, please?"

"Why are you touching my face?"

"I have never seen a blind man before, let alone had sex with one. Are you mad?"

I postponed the answer and instead opted for another grope. Her nipples hardened under my touch and offered little resistance to my questing fingertips.

"You really know how to touch a woman, stranger," she sighed. Her hips began a rolling motion against my crotch. There was no way she could miss my rising hardness.

"A woman, huh?" I teased. Going all in, I slipped one hand into the worn-out arm hole of the kirtle, teasing her skin. Goose bumps and purrs awaited my fingers as I slid them over her chest. No. That couldn't be a child's body. Only if I suddenly had ended up in a special place made for mad, blind drow assassins.

"Hm-hmmm. I'm twenty-four years old. Don't they have halflings where you come from?"

Halflings. Now things made sense. Somewhat. Halflings were small humanoids, their bodies seldom reaching more than four feet in height. People, including me it seems, tended to confuse them with human children, a misconception those with a sinister disposition liked to cultivate.

The priestesses called them "mutants" where I came from, but they were prized as curiosities or sex slaves, especially for their shock value. And I had heard of many a halfling slave using their master's neglect for their own gain, often backstabbing them at the worst opportunity. They were legendary for their quick wit and even quicker fingers, a claim I could wholeheartedly confirm. Marigold's fingers were nimble indeed as she undid the laces of my trousers.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, tossing my head in the general direction of the driver's seat.

"Daddy's much too busy driving," Marigold whispered back between small, hot kisses to my cheeks, nose and ravaged eyes. "As long as you're quiet, that is. I have played with myself often enough in here while we were on the road and he hadn't noticed. So, are you mad at me?" she asked, a mischievous tone in her voice. Ye gods, I wished I could see that smile. Why did she smile? Because her small, gentle fingers were checking out my meat, by now painfully hard and bent at somewhat of an angle as the tip was still firmly lodged under her crotch

"See for yourself. Do I look mad?" I asked, placing my hands under her bum and lifting her off my lap long enough for my pole to spring free. I sighed in pleasure. She wriggled on my hands and a moment later, there was no fabric left between her petite bum and my hands. I had no idea what she bathed with, but her skin was silky smooth and she smelled fresh and clean when I buried my face into the small of her neck, licking and biting the skin. I wriggled my thumb around until I could brush along her slit. Only a light fuzz tickled my fingertips.

Marigold inhaled sharply.

"No, I think we might get along just fine. Set me down, will ya?"

"Do you have a special place in mind?" I whispered. She giggled into my ear, then one of her hands snaked between us, pointing my tip where she wanted it to go.

"I hope you don't take me for a shameless harlot, but it has been more than three months," she hissed, her voice catching as my tip caressed along her slit.

"And I hope you don't take me for a... oh, Trickster..." Suddenly, coherent banter was impossible. With a swift downwards motion, she had taken me by surprise. She wasn't a virgin, that much was obvious.

"That must have been lonely three months," I rasped, amazed at how tight and wet she was. Despite our size difference, she seemed able to take my whole cock with ease. And let me tell you, after my own dry spell, her pussy around me felt like heaven.

"You have no idea. If Daddy knew, he would rip my head off. For him, I'm still his innocent little adopted flower, but I can't be twelve-and-a-half forever. And no, you're not hurting me. In fact, you're just the right size. So gooooooood," she hummed into my mouth while we were rocked by the shaking cart as it struggled through a section of road plagued by deep pot holes. And believe me, it's true what they say about farm girls - they know how to use their stuff. She most deliciously squeezed my rod with her insides when the road was straight and level.

"I hope it's a long way to Storm Harbour. I could get used to this," Marigold murmured.

"Same here," I chuckled, moving my hands from her amazing breasts to her butt cheeks, lifting her up so I could thrust into her. Her lips found mine again and each time I moved, she moaned into my mouth. Her hands had slipped under my shirt and her fingernails were crawling up and down my chest. There was just the two of us, a wonderfully warm bundle of coos and murmurs, only silence around us.

Then I realized it. It was suspiciously quiet. Even Marigold had stopped moaning.

"What?" I hissed. "Why is it so silent?"

"Because... we're not moving any more," Marigold gasped, her voice torn between lust and panic.

"Why?"

"Because there are people watching," she quavered.

"What kind of people?"

"A huge, blond giant of a man. And an auburn-haired elf. And... Daddy?" She sounded like she was about to die on my prick. We got caught? But why?

"Hello Gheeran, fancy meeting you here," a cool female voice purred. She sounded smooth and dangerous. I knew that voice from somewhere, but with most of my body still in the bedroom, so to speak, concise thoughts were tricky.

"Where are we?" I rasped as my rod collapsed. It slid out of Marigold and flopped onto my lap. I hoped we were still covered by that blanket.

"Why, at the Land Gate, Storm Harbour. Have you already forgotten my name? It's 'Shilana,' remember?"

I wished I could faint.

* * * *

"And that's how you found me. Happy?" I asked, a little chagrined. I would have liked to say my goodbyes to Marigold, but between her shouting match with her father and the two soldiers guiding me towards the Guard House, there was no opportunity. Shilana sat across from me; I could sniff her tell-tale ozone scent even across the table. Behind me, one other person paced from one end to the room to the other, his armor rattling with each step.

"What are you planning to do, now that you're in Storm Harbour?" the other one, Leo, asked. He stopped behind me, his presence looming in my field of perception. I remembered him. He was the reason why Shilana had gone willingly into a drow camp, to be abused by one of my kinfolk. From Shilana's tales, I knew Leo was a paladin, so I didn't even bother with lies or colorful jokes, that would have only made him mad. By the Trickster's shrivelled bollocks, he felt huge, even larger than when I leaned against his petrified body, back in Tiss' lair. It felt like that had happened a lifetime ago.

"I think Ya'tyrr wants to test me, how much of use I can be to him, even like this," I began, running my fingers over my scars.

"And how are you going to find out?" Leo asked, not unkindly.

"My first idea would be to seek out Tear and Arach. I have adventured with them and I know they trust me, somewhat." Well, Arach at least. She had trusted me enough to let me fuck her, which, in a renegade drow female, is quite a sign of confidence. No Blood Oath either, although I wouldn't have minded that all too much. Being linked to her lover, Tear, had been deliciously sweet; all her emotions regarding Arach were intoxicating. No, Arach trusted me enough so she could play the charade and didn't have to worry about Neer'din, who was all too eager to have his way with her.

"Tough luck," Shilana said, her hand clasping mine. "They left Storm Harbour four days ago with most of the other Moon Maiden faithful. Something about a 'full moon feast' or some such."

"I can wait. Ya'tyrr gave me some coin. They will come back eventually, won't they?"

"You are not getting into trouble while you wait," Leo cautioned me. "Otherwise we will be forced to kick you out of the city, adventuring companion or not."

I nodded. "I'll behave."

"Do you want a guard to guide you somewhere? I imagine going through Storm Harbour alone and blind can be a little problematic," Shilana offered.

I had been to Storm Harbour several times in the past. I even had some contacts in the local Thieves' Guild. But telling members of the Guard that wouldn't be a wise idea. I could hardly ask them to find one of my contacts for me, now could I? Walking alone was out of the question either. Even in the quieter winter months, Storm Harbour was too crowded for its own good. We were getting close to summer, and the city certainly was bursting at the seams. Being swept up by the crowds wasn't my idea of fun.

"I would be honored if one of your men could take me to the Toothless Godling, if it isn't too much of a bother."

"Not at all, and it beats finding your bloated corpse by the roadside," Shilana said as she stood.

* * * *

"How are we going to do this?" the young guardsman, Thaion, asked. I felt his unease radiate off him like heat waves. "Shall I take your hand?"

"I have to figure that out myself," I grumbled. "I'm new at this blindness business myself. But hang on just a moment." I undid the laces holding my purse to my belt and slipped the purse under my shirt, tying the laces into a loop long enough that I could wear it comfortably around my neck. Then I took off most of my armaments and tossed them into the small bag I had on my back. Thaion's presence shifted inside my small area of perception, but I could make him out clearly enough.

"I think you won't need to hold me tight," I teased. "Just go ahead, I'll follow."

"If you say so, sir," the young Guard said, saluting almost on instinct, the rivets in his glove ringing off his helmet with a gentle "ping." Then he did a smart about face and walked ahead, towards the exit of the Guard House.

The difference in noise levels as he opened the door was shocking. Trident Road was one of the major thoroughfares of Storm Harbour, and the sounds of walking travellers, clopping hooves, peddlers hawking their wares and whatnot crashed over me like a roaring tidal wave. Suddenly Thaion was gone, swallowed up by a veritable wall of people in front of me. I tried to take a step backwards, but bumped into the flank of a horse, the animal neighing irritably.

Before I knew it, I was lost in a maelstrom of jostling people, my magical blindsense overwhelmed, useless. It was so precise, I could sense a coin fluttering in front of my face, but now all it registered was a wall of humanity crushing me on all sides. And to top it all off, I felt a small hand sliding along my crotch, zeroing in on my belt. Snarling, I intercepted it and caught a shockingly thin wrist.

"Hey, lemme go!" a young boy squealed.

I hauled him close and slapped my free hand over his mouth. He bit into it savagely but I didn't let up.

"Nod if you understand me," I hissed at him. He stopped struggling and nodded.

"Good. I could snap your neck like a rotted stick, so don't make me mad."

I felt him tense up against me.

"Are you with the guild?" I asked him. He relaxed a little, then nodded hesitantly. "Good. You go and find Rokun. Tell him Gheeran wants to see him at the Toothless Godling. Got that?"

Again the boy nodded. Keeping him pressed to me, I fished for a coin and pressed it into his hand. "A quick tip and the only second chance you'll ever get. Don't just comb the crowds. Look where your hand is going to go. Here," I placed his hand on my crotch, "you won't find coins, but you'll make the owner suspicious. Or horny. Not everybody is as quick as I, but you still might get caught by someone who isn't as friendly." He groaned into my hand, so I let him go. The urchin bolted. I heard Thaion call for me, so I raised my hands and waved.