A Sticky Situation
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2011 by Webkeeper

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 2 - This is a story based on Glen Cook's creations. I've used the city of Tunfaire and some of his characters from the the Garrett, P.I. books to give background to the story. I've also used the character of Phaia from the manga comic "Spunky Knight" as the main basis of my heroine. The entire flashback story in Chapter 2 comes straight out of Issue #1. Anything else is by me.

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult   Consensual   Coercion   Fiction   Fan Fiction   Furry   Zombies   Gang Bang   Orgy   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Fisting   Sex Toys   Bestiality   Squirting   Lactation   Water Sports   Scatology   Pregnancy   Cream Pie   Necrophilia   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism  

I was was good as my word. Two hours later, I was on my way up the Hill.

Ah ... the Hill. What can I say about it, except that was where the rich overlords of Tunfaire, the movers and shakers, the ones with the money and power stayed. It was up north, past the Dream Quarter, where the temples of the cities thousand and one cults and religions made their home. The streets are much cleaner here. More brightly lit, and safer too, since the City Watch take care to look after the welfare of those who hold the power to hire and fire over them.

The mansion of the StormWarden Argent Sable stood almost at the top of the Hill ... status being measured by the proximity of your residence to the crest of the hill. And StormWarden Sable was really powerful, both in the magic department and the political arena. I wondered what he was doing back in the Cantard, away from all the fighting. Say what you will of our fair city's leaders, at least in this one respect, money and status didn't make any difference. The war down South was important, and they certainly did their share.

The StormWarden's place was huge, massive, even, and brooding, built in mock gothic imperial style that was popular a few centuries ago. Cavorting gargoyles and various uglies chased each other all over the facade. Oh, Ymir. One of those pretentious ones. The ones that feel they have to impress you with their money, wealth, status and power.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Once inside -- after a quick lookover by suspicious guards -- the interior didn't match up with the bombast of the exterior. Inside was all light and airy, with a lot of maple wood furniture, open spaces and rugs thrown all over the floor. The butler took my cloak. He compressed his lips when he saw what I was wearing, but being well trained and the epitome of the stiff-upper-lip school of butlering, he said nothing beyond, "This way, milady," with a bit too much emphasis on the 'lady' for my taste.

Still, I dressed to please myself, not anyone else. Certainly not a mere flunky. I was wearing my usual working gear. All black. All leather. My thigh high boots were soft and supple. The rest of my outfit consisted mainly of leather straps, used for the main purpose of providing me with places to hang my gear. And I had a lot of gear, some of which wasn't immediately obvious. Two tiny triangles that barely covered my nipples left most of my tits uncovered and a slightly larger triangle that was just enough to cover my cunt slit. In fact, it was so small and tight down there, my pussy lips were bulging out at the sides, and the thin strip that cut through my crotch left my ass totally bare. If you're wondering why someone in my line of work is wearing something so obviously impractical, let me tell you a little story.

Somewhere down the line, the giant gods played a really mean trick on me. Even though I was a half-breed giant, I didn't look it. Mom was the shortest of the lot, standing at only 8 feet in her socks ... if she had any to wear. And my flaming red hair comes from mom's side too, since they were fire giants. I stand only 5' 5" in my socks. If I had any to wear. That's why I thought I'd gotten a pretty raw deal for someone with fire giant blood. Still, while I was no taller than most human females, I can hold my own with human males. What I did get from mom's side, though, was my strength. I don't look it, being quite well proportioned, and not overly muscular like some of the amazon-type female warriors, but I am stronger than oh... 3 or 4 men. Works out quite well in my line of work. And my skin is tougher than normal. It gives me the equivalent protection of lightweight leather armour. I don't cut easily, although a sword thrust is another story.

So you can see why I wear as little as I can get away with without being carted off to the Slough of Despond -- that's the delightful establishment the fair city of Tunfaire provides to incarcerate the city's less-than-savoury inhabitants -- for indecent exposure. I don't need the armour. Plate is good, but a little showy and noisy. It's the same with mail or scale. Anything else was as good as my skin. So I sacrificed the weight and extra protection for speed and mobility. Besides, it gives me an advantage in a fight. Most men just can't take me seriously when I'm dressed like a whore playing toy soldier. So while they're still making up their minds whether to whip me or fuck me, I get the first strike in.

But the giant gods were definitely out to get me, what with their warped sense of humour and all. I mean, they think it's funny to cut someone up and tie their entrails to a tree, then set wolves chasing after the poor sod just so they can watch him wind his guts round it. I mean, I'm a giant 'breed, right? Flaming red hair and all. I'm a bounty hunter, right? Mean, tough bitch that'll bite off your balls and chew 'em up for breakfast, right? So why by all the giant gods did they have to give me big, bouncy tits with ENORMOUSLY large, I mean huge nipples? My nipples stick out like a sore thumb because that's how large and thick they are! And a slim waist that helps a lot in combat because I can twist and dodge a lot better, but they had to go and spoil it all by giving me this ass that wiggles and jiggles when I walk on my long, slim legs. And don't get me started about my cunt, either. Thick, fleshy pussy lips that dangle down an inch from my plump cunt mound, and a clit that's the size of a pea sticking out an inch from its hood. Gods above, I tell you if I wasn't a bounty hunter, I'd probably have been the most successful and popular whore in the history of Tunfaire.

Shit, who's gonna take me seriously when they see me coming? That's why I make it a point to make sure my rep stays tough.

And I could see all of this and more in the eyes of the StormWarden. He looked like a normal, ordinary person. Nothing distinguishing to mark him as one of the city's most powerful sorcerers ... until you noticed the air of competent power that he projected. And the eyes. You can always tell by the eyes.

Whoa, girl. Better play it straight here.

"Ms ... Steele?" Deep bass. What, I wondered, was he doing with a flunky like Softy?

"StormWarden Sable. I got here as quickly as I could."

"So I was told." Was that a flash of wry humour in those obsidian eyes?

"Right." I was being brisk and all business-like now. "Who do you want me to find?"

Instead of answering me, one of Tunfaire's major powers walked off and led me to his study. It was a bit like him. Quiet, undistinguished. But every piece of furniture and every book that lined the walls were there for a purpose, and you could almost feel the magic from all those years of study and practice charging the air in the room.

He turned and watched me enter. I had to give him full marks for his control. I mean here I was, practically bare-assed naked, sexy as hell if I say so myself, with a walk that could get decrepit old priests drooling, radiating a silent "FUCK ME" siren call to 99% of the male population and he watched me with absolutely no more emotion in his eyes than he would have given an old servant bringing in his afternoon tea. My respect for him went up even more.

I sat down in one of his chairs, unconsciously sitting with my legs spread wide open so that my leather crotch covering practically disappeared into my wet slit, exposing my cunt lips. I'd done it for so many years it was automatic and I never gave it a second thought. Not until I looked into his eyes again. By then it was too late to do anything about it, so I decided to tough it out, by Ymir's iron balls. I'd outfaced hairier men than this.

I never noticed him making any sort of signals, but as soon as we were seated, the butler came in again with some drinks. I never found out how the smooth bastard did it, but I was served my favourite drink. Dark ale, all foamy and drawn straight from the keg. The StormWarden had a glass of purplish red wine ... No Karentine wine had that exact hue so I guessed it must have come from the far south. From Venageta, even.

He looked at me and all of a sudden, my cunt woke up and began to itch like crazy. Oh, gods, I wanted his cock inside me! Aware that my cunt juices would seep out sooner or later, what with my legs spread wide open like that, I tried to speed up the interview so I could leave before I embarrassed myself further by showing him evidence of how much I wanted him to fuck me. Before I could say anything however, he spoke.

"Your appearance belies your reputation, Ms Steele."

Tactful sod. "Yeah, well, it's ... useful."

"I find I am in need of your particular talents. I need you to locate someone for me."

"Hey, that's what I do. I'm a bounty hunter, after all. You want him dead or alive?"

"Alive, please." Yes, definitely a flash of wry humour there. "And it's a 'her', nor 'him'."

Her??? A female??? Now, there's nothing wrong with the female sex, but most of the folks I bump into in my line of work are males, for some reason. Maybe us females can get what we want without having to resort to crude, lawless methods. Unlike the poor men who have nothing else to offer, especially that piece of equipment between their legs.

"Alright ... who is she?"

"She's ... my daughter." Gods, the amount of pride he'd had to swallow to make that admission. Like I said, he was already sky-high in my estimation, so I tried to make it easy on him.

"Kidnapped? They want ransom or something? That's more like Garrett's line of work, you know. You ever hear of him?"

"Yes, his name was brought to my attention. However, he is currently out of town. In the Cantard, I believe, but no," he continued. "She wasn't kidnapped. She ran away ... with her boyfriend."

Oh, great, girl. Why don't you put both feet into your big mouth at the same time? Save you all that trouble.

"How do you know?" Might as well play it straight. I figured he could take it like a man.

"She didn't leave a note if that's what you mean, but I made some enquiries." If I remembered correctly, StormWarden Sable was a widower, and his daughter was the only child. She would've been spoilt rotten. Wonderful. I sighed mentally.

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yes." Hmm. That was weird. If he knew, why call me in?

"And... ?" This was going to be difficult if he needed the prompting.

"She's ... down in the Tenderloin. And her boyfriend leads a packs of ogres."

Sheee ... it, girl! Gods, I would EARN every single copper groat of my fee! That short sentence told me a lot. It meant that his daughter was probably living it up as a whore, shacking up with her ogre boyfriend, the pimp. AND he had a bunch of ogres to back him up. The worst of it was, there was no way the StormWarden was able to charge in there to rescue her -- if she needed any rescuing in the first place -- because that would have meant he'd be butting heads with the kingpin of Tunfaire's underworld ... Kolchak.

Kolchak was ... Kolchak. Tunfaire's Kingpin, crimeboss, emperor of Tunfaire's underworld. Everyone knew the story. He used to be one of the brunos in the street, working for the previous Kingpin. Until his ruthlessness and ability brought him to the top of the ranks of the Organisation where he rose to be the number two dog. Wherein he proceeded to make himself top dog by offing the then-Kingpin, his wife and three children at the birthday party of the youngest child, a six-year-old girl. And that short tale of murder and mayhem shows you just why he is the undisputed king of the dunghill. Nobody, but nobody, messes around with Kolchak. Not even a StormWarden. Not over something that was a personal matter.

This was getting better and better. The giant gods were having a roaring time at my expense today.

"So ... do you think she left willingly? Or did you have a quarrel and she's doing this to pay you back?"

He looked away to hide the pain in his eyes. "We were close, once ... but since her mother died, we drifted further and further apart ... the pressures of ruling the city ... the war in the Cantard ... she grew up even before I knew it. And I discovered I never even knew the girl that is my daughter."

Hmm. Standard sob story of the rich and shameless. Poor little rich girl. Daddy's girl, wanting his love and attention, but not knowing how to get it. And both end up hurting the ones they love most. I may be only sixteen, but I've seen a lot of life and its seamier side.

I kept my mouth shut, though. Hell, no one is perfect. From all accounts, the StormWarden did try to do his level best for the city, and gave his all in the war in the Cantard. Too bad there wasn't any of him left over for his daughter.

"What's her name?"

"Jade. We ... my wife and I ... named her that for her green eyes."

Great. A description at last. Turned out she was sixteen like me. Also like me, and very pretty with a curvy figure. But unlike me she was blonde, tall, and stinking rich. She'd go down like gangbusters in the Tenderloin. Line up, line up one and all to sock it to an aristocrat's daughter. The johns would pay, and gladly ... especially if she was willing. Finding her wouldn't be a problem. Getting her back would.

 
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