Chapter 5: Pleasing an old whore

I woke up by the side of the road. It was cold and around me the light of early morning was seeping through the foliage. There was no sign of either the wagon, the demon-woman, nor her hapless driver. The road was as empty as if they had never been there.

But it had not been a dream. I was tired. No, not tired: I was utterly exhausted. So worn out like I had never been in my life before. The pain in all the joints of my body could not compare with the feeling of being completely drained.

And my crotch was still exposed, exposed and freezing. But despite the cold my member was still both thick long like some tortured snake. I had been used - and changed.

For hour upon hour I just lay there, panting like a man who had just run for his life all through the night. I was not until mid-afternoon that I managed to stumble to my feet, pull my pants up, and seek some shelter from the upcoming night. Food and drink would have to wait.

I was starving by the time I reached Pineflats, that frontier town on the north banks of Icy River with its coarse wooden houses, muddy streets, bad food, and utter lack of refinement of any kind. And, and this was the only reason I was here, inadequate law enforcement.

For the last two months I had lived up here in the great woods, robbing travelers and spending their money on what little pleasures could be found in such a dump. And I had waited, waited until that moment when people would start looking funnily at me and I knew it was time to flee head over heals. Hopefully somewhere far warmer, and far more civilized.

Nine days ago I had pranced into town like some other peacock, a big fat purse at my belt stolen from some rich merchant who had traveled alone in the wilderness. Now I was hobbling into the log frame that served for gate in the town's palisade wall, just a few coppers in my pocket.

No matter, I could still live a few days in the cheaper of the town's two inns, and I could still eat the disgusting porridge they served. I would survive, I thought, as I looked at the people around me. Stupid, uncouth peasants. Loggers, hunters, and ... Loggers' and hunters' wives! Wearing thick, woolen dresses and coats, but still! Women! Tall women, short women, old women, young women, fat women, thin women!

My monstrous member became rock hard as I ran almost doubled over down the muddy streets. Why was this happening to me? What had that devil-woman done to me!? Why was I running to the inn desiring to see the prostitutes that used to hang out there instead of eating? I was famished!

I knew it would have to be her, and somehow I knew exactly why. She was the oldest of the group of whores that sat at the small table, she was the ugliest with her squint and bucked teeth, and she looked to be the dirtiest as well.

But, she had the longest hair. Filthy and tangled, but still it was long hair. And she wore a dress, ragged as they come, but a dress nonetheless. Her expression was surly, almost haughty. Oh yes, the hair, the dress, and the slave thing. I had surely not forgotten.

From the bar I made feverish signs with my head and grimaces with my face, trying to call her attention. Finally she sighed, rose, and walked drearily up to me.

"Can I help you?" she drawled.

I nodded mutely, attempting to hide the giant bulge on my pants. She noticed it anyway, rolled her eyes, and named her price. Far too much for such a piece of thrash.

"Agreed," I heard myself pant.

"And you pay for the room," she added.

Damn you!, I thought, but I nodded again. I needed her! I needed her to touch my manhood so badly, needed her finally give me that release

I had been yearning for! I could almost feel the distance between the tip of my member and the fabric of her dress.

"Yeah right." She shook her head, her greasy hair flying. "No way I'll let you do me with that ... That thing!"

She referred to my manhood, the big throbbing shaft that pointed straight at her from where I stood naked on the creaky, dirty floor of the tiny room with the thin pile of straws that would serve as a bed. Or, maybe not.