[Health] Accept the wager – and win

You attack. Strikes as strong and as precise as you can muster, efficient and without flair. You see no chance of overpowering her defence, but you are quick enough to keep her occupied, to keep her from attacking you in turn.

The riposte comes later than expected. She expected a trap, and she is not wrong. But you do not counter her counter – you have no hope of doing so. Instead, you dodge, block and bind, keeping your face away from her alluring lips. She strains, struggles and groans, but you manage to hold her off.

Sweat stings in your eyes and your muscles burn, but she is sweating too when you again catch her blade in a bind. The weapon wobbles, betraying an attempt to break free. You cannot stop her, but you can press her with another attack. Metal rings against metal, another block, and you have her dodging. Yet more blocks and you have her back and bound.

She shrieks, strains and strives free.

You follow, attacking again.

Her breasts rise and fall, firm against her now skintight dress. Weary excitement flushes her face, and you can just see her on her back, smiling that same tired smile as you paint her insides white. A twinkle shines bright in her widened eyes, and she smirks, licking her lips.

Then her leg sweeps yours.

You stumble and raise your weapon. Too slow to block the attack, sharp metal flashing past. But she misses, the thrust too weak and the blade unsteady in her hand.

"Fuck." She screams. "Fuck." Or maybe moans. "Fuuuck!" She rains down sword-blows on you, a **** hail, a deluge meant to overpower you. But she tires. You are breathing heavily as well, but you have longer arms and strength left to burn. She does not. Another swipe misses you, side-stepped but not dodged nor blocked. She attacks again, furious and unfocused. This time you block, angling her weapon into a crooked arch. And she, screaming, does not take the time to remedy the flaw.

The tip would have missed you anyway, but some deft footwork brings you to her side. You hit her blade right above the hilt, just before she can relax back from her strained lunge, and send it clattering across the floor.

"Fuck." Her arm shakes and slackens. She is breathing heavily as she raises both hands in surrender. "I – I thought I had it."

A moment’s hesitation, your head askew in question, and she nods. You caress her body with your weapon, tracing her chest with the blunted tip and lifting a breast with the dulled edge. Her nipple, hardening, presses against skin-tight fabric. A shiver sways her palms, and she moans. The weapon reaches her neck and lips before you dip, arousing her other breast as well.

"Lower..." She lifts her dress, just enough to stab underneath, and approaches you, swaying as she rides the edge. "Woe to the vanquished." Her hips move as obscene thrusts, and she wraps her arms around you to steal a kiss. "Come."

You are grabbed, seized despite your weapon, and pulled into the far corner. Moonlight, greasy silver, shines through the large window, flattering her form even as she dims the lantern light.

"Show me your sword..."

She accepts it on her knees, scrunching her face at first but soon licking along the blade with shameless pleasure. "Did you like that? Do you like my sword-fucked mouth? Are you ready to show me the other?"

You disarm, squatting down to yield the weapon to the floor and to point the tip at her open legs. Rising is harder still; you are ready. She smirks then spits before accepting your cock into her open mouth.

"Hell awkk..." She spits you out. "Well fought."

Silky, spidery threads connect you to the kneeling officer, she worshipping your length before allowing you to invade deep into her throat. She soon releases you, gagging, whispering and asking if you are ready to unload. Slap and slime answer her, you grasping the root and teasing her to enjoy her sucking devotion a single moment more. She, laughing, kisses the tip, tonguing the split until you jerk away. Saliva keeps you connected as you enjoy another slavish slurp. She takes you deep and licks your balls, gagging before you coat her face. Sticky threads that shot up to her nose, stick to her hair and drip from the tip of her nose.

"Good fucking Lord." A twinkle shines bright in her widened eyes, and she smirks, licking her lips. "Let me clean you." And she does. "Lord, your smell. Sweat and cum and – and are you fuckers watching?"

Four feet scurrying away in the dark answer for you.

"You better run!" She exhales and shakes her head. "We should leave. And you cannot stay." Her voice quivers as she climbs upright to relight the lanterns. "Don’t be cross, First Officer. I have a reputation to maintain, being a woman especially – and my comrades in arms are terrible gossips to a man. It’s not you, it just is what it is." She quickly orders her dress, but does not clean you from her face. "Another tradition. And I would like to see you again, away from here. Such a beautiful weapon..." She lowers her voice into a whisper. "I need you inside me. You can shoot your load wherever you like, but I need to come on that cock."

You say goodbye on the shadowed landing half-a-flight up the stairs from her room. She gives you your hand to kiss and dares you to dare more. Then your lips are on her neck and your hands are under her dress. Hot moans reward every grope, and she lets you linger, longer and longer, shaking as she pulls away.

You kiss her hand one last time.

"See you soon?"