To market

Brunhilde rode in a large cart through the streets of Yrkheim, Martin beside her. The side of the cart came up high so that a Somai sitting in the front was obscured from the waist up. Two large horses were hitched in the front, pulling the cart of raided loot to market. This was how Brunhilde made most of her living: stealing goods from mainlanders and then selling or trading them at market. A ferocious warrior and powerful mage, she was able to procure expensive wares by raiding, and this accounted for her great wealth.

The streets of Yrkheim were paved by the ancient Yrkai civilization from long ago. It was an overcast day, with a dull gray sky and a light misting of rain. Martin was wrapped in a cloak, sitting as close to Brunhilde as possible and shivering. She held the reins with one hand and had the other around his shoulders. His teeth chattered here and there.

“My, you’re sensitive to cold, aren’t you?” said Brunhilde, one hand resting on his shoulder.

“Yes,” said Martin, laying his head on her shoulder. Her hand dropped from his shoulder, reached between the folds of his cloak, and gently but firmly squeezed his crotch.

“Ahhh,” he sighed, resting his on on her shoulder still. She smiled and stroked him through his clothes, running her hand in slow, firm strokes up and down his length through the fabric of his hose. Then she returned her hand to his shoulder. She liked to do that with him sometimes, get him all hot and bothered for no reason at all. It was good to keep his sexuality wrapped around her finger like that. Made him more fun to fuck at night when he was already half-crazy with desire from being surreptitiously groped and fondled all day.

The afternoon went fairly uneventfully. Brunhilde sold her entire cartload, and Martin did little but help her load and unload it. There were furs, swords, gemstones, daggers, various gold and silver and copper and bronze trinkets, arrows, a few scrolls, a battleaxe, and some more fine clothes. It was all sold, mostly for silver and gold pieces, and they both entered the cart to leave. Just then, Martin heard a voice calling from his left.

“Brunhilde! What have you got there?”

He turned to see a Somai woman with the darkest complexion he’d ever seen on a Somai, which was still not too dark. She was tanned, with big, dark eyes and long brown hair down to her waist. Where Brunhilde was buxom with an hourglass figure, this woman had smaller breasts but big hips. She was pear-shaped and wearing a brown dress.

“Hm?” said Brunhilde, looking down at her, “Isolde, what do you mean? My cart is empty.”

“Not in the cart,” said Isolde, walking closer, “I mean sitting there by you.”

Martin looked at Isolde and saw how intensely her dark eyes stared at him. There was a hunger in them. It frightened him, but also made him feel a little warm.

“Is he for sale?” asked Isolde, looking intently at Martin, “Because I’ll pay good coin. He’d make a good eunuch. Even once they’re gelded, they can still use their tongues.”

The warmth vanished from inside of him and he scooted closer to Brunhilde. He felt her strong arm wrap around him and her fingers slip between his. She squeezed his hand firmly.

“No, Isolde,” said Brunhilde, “He’s not for sale.”

“Are you sure?” said Isolde, coming even closer. Martin squeezed as close to Brunhilde as he could get, burrowing into her a little and squeezing her hand fervently. His face had gone completely white.

“I’d pay very, very good coin,” said Isolde, “More than you paid for those horses and all that loot. He’s a fine little thing.”

“No, Isolde!” said Brunhilde, “He is absolutely not for sale. And you would ruin him anyway, gelding him. A complete waste of a precious thing.” When she said the word, ‘precious’, she reached over with her free hand and softly stroked his forearm, under the edges of the carriage where Isolde couldn’t see. He kept his eyes trained on Isolde as if she were a wolf that would soon eat him.

“A pity,” said Isolde, “And if he’s got a decent-sized one, I wouldn’t geld him. He looks scrumptious.”

“He is scrumptious,” growled Brunhilde, “And only I get to eat him.”

Isolde shrugged and said, “Well, that’s a pity. But do let me know if he ever goes on the market.”

Afterward, while they were riding back home, Martin looked up at Brunhilde.

“Brunhilde,” he said, “Who was that?”

“A fellow-warrior of my clan,” said Brunhilde, “Isolde and I have known one another for many years. Sometimes we trade. She has many slaves and she uses them all that way.”

They rode on in silence for a while. Then, Martin asked, “Do you use any other slaves that way?”

“Not male slaves, no,” said Brunhilde, “You’re my consort.” She put her hand on top of his head and played with his hair, then continued, “And maybe my husband, one day.”

His heart leapt when she said that. The Somai had marriage! And he could be married to her. It wouldn’t be an equal partnership, of course. He was not, and never could be, a Somai. But the thought of marrying Brunhilde put butterflies in his stomach regardless. But then a question occurred to him.

“And you would never share me with another Somai, right?” he asked. She shook her head.

“Never,” she said.

“How about a female ****?” he asked.

She looked down at him and cocked an eyebrow, and he felt a sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. Had he asked the wrong question?

“You mean, do I fuck my female slaves?”

He said nothing. Maybe it was better not to clarify?

“Well,” she continued, “Yes, sometimes I have them lick me.”

He stayed silent, and just as he was about to reply, she said, “Is something wrong, Martin? You’re the only male I have sex with.”

“No!” he said hurriedly, “I just, uh…”

“Wait,” said Brunhilde, “Were you asking me if you could fuck the other slaves?”

The butterflies returned to his stomach. He felt, for some reason, as though he were on thing ice. Finally, he decided that honesty was the best policy.

“I… Yes, I am,” he said. Brunhilde regarded him coldly for a moment, and then gave him the same evil smile she’d given the night before

“Certainly,” she said, “But we’ll need to break you in, first.”

A shiver went down his spine. A delightful shiver.

When they arrived home, he helped Brunhilde carry in the gold and goods that they had acquired at market. After they unloaded everything and the horses were put away in the stable, Martin and Brunhilde stood in the entryway.

“I’ll be heading out for a week,” she said, “And I need you to stay put and keep all the doors locked. I don’t think anyone would steal from me, because everyone knows who I am and that I’m not to be trifled with. But I don’t want you or any of my other slaves being stolen.”

“Headed out?” asked Martin, “Where?”

“On a raid,” replied Brunhilde, “We’ll be attacking a coastal town, most likely. I’ll go with the same captain as last time. She always knows the best spots.”

Martin felt a bolt of fear go through him. On a raid? What if she got hurt? What if she never came back? Brunhilde saw the fear on his face and smiled, then placed her0 hand on top of his head and ruffled his hair.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” she said, “It won’t be too long.” She lowered her voice and continued, “And just between you and me, I’ve seen Sibyl giving you the eye.”

“Sibyl?”

“Yes. The little blonde one you winked at earlier. She stares at you whenever you’re not looking. She wants, you, Martin.”

“But you said you’d have to break me in first.”

“That’s true. I don’t want you two doing it before that. But if you want to have a little fun with your clothes on, I’m sure she won’t object.”

Marcus smiled, his cheeks flushed with the thought of being the dominant one for once. He stood on his tiptoes and Brunhilde leaned down and gave him a smooch on the lips.

“Good enough,” she said, “Now be good for me while I’m gone, okay?”

He nodded vigorously.