The tavern at the edge of the hinterlands was a tomb of smoke and stale mead, its rafters heavy with the stink of leather and sweat. The day’s victory had been bought in blood and ash, though what profit it yielded none could say. It was one of those ruinous campaigns, where mercenary contracts promised spoils but the spoils themselves had long rotted to dust.
Kade and Thahn sat among it anyway, their skins still slick with the memory of battle, their throats raw from shouting war-cries. The boar and the steer—two older mercenaries who had fought beside them—had collapsed into a corner. Their tusked and horned faces lolled against the timber wall, drunken grins spread wide. They had been good fighters in the field, but they had no stamina for victory’s feast.
Their hands shook as they raised cups, and now they sat slumped in oblivion, burbling nonsense about Zarhanda, about the next fight, about ghosts who never leave. Kade had propped the boar’s shoulder so he didn’t choke on his own tusks, and Thahn had nudged the old steer into a semblance of seated dignity.
That was all the tribute owed them. The panther and the wolf meant to leave—the tavern’s dirt floor was foul and the light guttered low. They rose, ready to stalk into the storming night, when the sound cut across their ears.
Bells.
Bells and the slow roll of a drum, muffled but insistent, like a heartbeat rattling in a cavern. Kade’s ears twitched, and he slapped his companion’s chest with a grin. They turned, and there she was. She was not a tavern-wench of the thin, wiry sort. She was ursine—broad-hipped, dark-furred, her breasts massive globes hung with bronze bells that rang with every sway of her shoulders. Golden chains cinched her waist and rattled on her thighs. Naked but for her jewelry, she danced in the smoke and flickering torchlight, her eyes fixed not on the drunks, not on the unconscious warriors, but on the two standing beasts whose blood still sang with battle.
Her fur was combed sleek, her movements a slow grind of hips and a cruel shaking of her bosom, bells chiming as though mocking the dead and the drunk alike. Her eyes narrowed, daring, her mouth crooked in a smile that was half-promise, half-challenge. The wolf and the panther stood still, watching, their cocks swelling beneath leather and fur but their discipline holding—for no barbarian wastes himself on mere jiggle and tease.
Then she turned her back, bent low, and parted her thighs wide, the torchlight catching on her wetness. Between her dark lips, pierced flesh gleamed. A ring of steel ran through her clitoris, a barbarous ornament glinting like the prize of a chieftain’s tent. Kade’s restraint snapped like a bowstring. He dug in his pouch, dropped the coin so it clattered loud against the stone. The wench froze, then straightened, bells jingling, and her smile deepened into hunger. Thahn growled approval, already reaching for his belt.
They took her to one of the yurts behind the tavern, canvas walls flapping in the growing wind. Inside, the air was hot, thick with furs and smoke. She lay back, legs stabbing into the air, chains clattering, breasts jiggling like swollen wineskins. Kade, his black panther’s body gleaming like oiled obsidian, drove into her with the fury of the field. His cock hammered her cunt with unrelenting force, his chest heaving, claws gripping her thighs until the bells screamed as loud as her cries. He raised a wineskin, bit into its leather mouth, and poured the red stream down his throat.
The overflow spilled across her bouncing tits, running down into her fur. She laughed between moans, scooping the liquor with her tongue, slurping greedily before shrieking when his hips smashed forward again. Thahn crouched low, tongue lolling, his wolf’s cock already stiff. The bear wench bent her head, her mouth wide and wet as she swallowed his shaft whole. She sucked his balls, rolling them on her tongue, pulling at him until he snarled and pulled her ears back, forcing more down her throat. She gagged, eyes streaming, but giggled between it, smearing saliva across his sack as she slobbered at him. Kade bit her neck, hard, tasting the salt of her sweat.
His cock throbbed inside her, each pulse swelling as he neared. The bear’s cunt milked him, sucking, pulling, her ring catching against his glans like a cruel finger tugging. He buried his face in her shoulder and roared as his seed erupted, flooding her womb until she screamed from the force of it, her chains rattling like thunder. He pulled out, panting, claws raking tender down her cheek, leaving streaks in her fur. She sighed, swooned against the furs, dazed with pleasure.
Thahn licked his lips, his cock dripping with her spit, and without a word he shoved Kade aside and took position. The wolf slammed into her with a grunt, his cock spreading her used lips wide. She cried out, rolling her eyes, her arms wrapping his chest, her bells bouncing against his sternum. His thrusts were brutal, each one making her flesh quake. Kade, leaning against the yurt’s post, bit his lip and watched.
Watched his friend’s cock split the bear wide, watched her tits bounce, watched her piercings glimmer. The sight alone hardened him again.
Outside, the boar and the steer snored in their stupor. They dreamed of Zarhanda, of white wolves with milk-heavy bosoms who would feed them in glory halls. They dreamed while the young males lived the feast in flesh and blood. The storm howled outside, the yurts flapping, dust battering against the hides. Inside, the orgy deepened.
Kade lay on his back now, cock glistening, as the bear wench squatted over him, his length buried deep in her ass. Her anus stretched wide around him, her moans sharp as he drove upward. Behind her, Thahn took her cunt again, his sack slapping hard against Kade’s, their cocks hammering her in rhythm. She shrieked, chains clattering, her voice breaking into guttural barbarian chants.
She called to gods neither panther nor wolf knew, names torn from her throat like war-cries. Mead was poured over her ass, dripping down her stretched holes, hissing as their thrusts pushed it deeper inside her. The three of them drank, sweat soaking fur, cocks spurting white as they drove her past sanity. Every climax was another battle-won, every scream another head taken.
Their seed pumped into her in waves, her belly swelling, her thighs slick, her piercings jangling like victory bells. Hours passed like this, rut after rut, bite after bite, the panther’s claws raking her ass, the wolf’s teeth sinking into her tits, until the three collapsed in a heap. She lay across them, passed out, her cunt and ass still filled, both cocks softening inside her.
By morning the dust storm had passed. The yurts stood silent, smoke rising from doused fires. Kade and Thahn strode from the camp, still sore, still swollen, their balls heavy but emptied.
They walked with a swagger, their thighs aching, their loins humming with the echo of her flesh. The victory had been small, the campaign fruitless, but this feast of flesh had been its own spoils. Behind them, in the tavern, the bear wench sat in her furs. She chuckled, pouring cold wine over her swollen lips, hissing as it cooled the ache.
She shouted to the bartender in her rough tongue that she would not be dancing that night.