Yep.

She produced a short, viciously curved knife from somewhere and placed it firmly against the shaft of your cock, as her hand held it straight out from your body. “The rest of your coin and drop the sword, unless you wanna be singing soprano,” she whispered threateningly, cold steel pressed against your cock as her warm breath brushed against your chin.

You froze, then nodded, hands moving slowly towards your sword belt. She shook her head, “I’ll take off the belt, but you don’t try anything,” she ordered, not wanting your hands anywhere near her knife.

You nodded and waited until the hand holding your cock let go, before you dropped swiftly to your knees. Her hand cut downwards, but caught in your chainmail, instead of striking soft flesh, then you shoved yourself forward, driving her backwards across the alley. Your armored shoulder slammed into the pit of her stomach, driving the air out of the treacherous whore. You pulled back and caught the hand holding her knife, disarming her easily, as she was quite breathless. She slid down the alley wall, gasping for breath as you stood before her. She was level with your cock, you could feel her ****, deep breaths on your cock and her only weapon was in your hand. Part of you wanted to ask questions, a somewhat larger part of you wanted to take what you’d already paid for.