The city of Mountain's Birth was the only point where Franome touched the ocean, a tiny technically of an otherwise landlocked country. The city and the surrounding shoreline, all twelve kilometers of it, was the reluctant apology of the barbarians for raping, torturing, and killing the heir to the throne. With the heir's other sister kidnapped mysteriously, the only one left to take the throne was Claston, the youngest of three siblings of the royal family.
Mountain's Birth was a bay caught between two ridges of a mountain. From the ocean view, it looked like a giant set of labia lips with the city nestled into the very tip, a bump that had an uncanny resemblance to a clitoris. The forest above the city only emphasized the idea that it was the sex of the mountain.
Whenever Quinn walked along the mountain trail leading to the city, she couldn't help but notice how the two splayed mountain ridges sank into the water before coming back together at the entrance of the bay. The city was nothing more than a bump of buildings right at the very tip, like a half-hidden clitoris nestled between the folds of rock and stone.
There was no wonder why the city used to be called Mountain Cunt, a name that many of the residents used outside of polite company. She tried to call it Birth near her mother, but it was hard with her father calling it Cunt after long days of working as one of the city guards.
They had moved into a village down the southern side of the bay about three months ago. That close to Emberka, there were still signs of the battles found across the mountain as Franome claimed it's right over the land. The constant patrols of the Franome Army kept Quinn safe, but she still cringed every time a marching patrol went past.
One early summer day, she found herself strolling toward the Clit, the heart of the city. In her basket, she had lunch for her father and some small trinkets that she and her mother had made to drop off at the markets. An older woman named Gisette sold the trinkets in exchange for a small cut. It worked out for her mother who dislike Quinn remaining in the city for more than a few hours.
It was a bright morning with moisture in the air but a cool wind buffeting from the bay. Quinn's skirt fluttered over her thighs, the hem tickling her knees as it fluttered around her. The wind wasn't strong enough to push it above mid-thigh, but that didn't stop the little flutter of her heart when a gust caught it and tugged it up. She wore underwear like a proper daughter, but the idea of stranger's see her bare ass cheeks or the mound of her sex underneath the fabric brought a flush to her cheeks.
She had been curious about sex for a few years ago, but it was difficult to find anyone to breach the gates of her innocence with her family moving constantly. Both her mother, Merci, and her father, Pieter, were very protective of her and chased away any boy who revealed more than a passing interest in her.
Quinn's smile faltered. She didn't like moving so frequently. Most of the time, it was in the middle of the night and without warning. She had grown up having half of her possessions in boxes ready to ship out after the fourth time they relocated since she was five. Neither of her parents would explain the fear or the reasons for moving. The only thing Quinn could tell was they kept going west, moving further away from something her parents feared.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a hard blast of wind that caught her skirt and tugged at it. She managed to hold the basket against her crotch to keep it down, but the wind continued to tug at it, pulling it higher until she felt the warmth of the sun against her buttocks.
Flushed, she struggled to push it down with her other hand but it was difficult to manage the fluttering fabric. The wind had never been so strong and she couldn't keep it from rushing between her legs, giving her a thrill as if someone was caressing every part of her body at once.
A whistle cut through her terror. “And that is the most perfect ass I've ever seen.”
Gasping, Quinn dropped her basket and clamped one hand against her ass and the other against her crotch. The wind snapped around her, tugging harder, as she spun around to the speaker.
It was a squad of soldiers, the green stylized tree of Franome on their tabbards. There were eight of them marching up on her, seven of them wielding long spears and the eighth, a blond, leading the way while holding the broken remains of an eighth spear.
The wind snapped around her, still tugging on her skirt, but then it poured into the sleeves of her peasant's top, puffing out of the fabric from her body for a heartbeat before sucking back. The white material plastered itself against her breasts, outlining her large mounds and scraping against her nipples. They hardened almost immediately, the gumdrop-sized bumps tenting the taut fabric. She wore no bra, that was for rich folk, and she knew every centimeter of her breasts and every curve of her thighs and ass were exposed to anyone looking.
None of them were speaking when she looked with humiliation. Instead, they were staring with slack-jawed lust. She felt naked despite her clothes covering her body.
Her eyes focused on one of the soldiers, the only one not staring in shock. It was an older man, probably in his mid-twenties, with a short beard and a wide grin on his face. Wind ruffled through his dark hair as he lifted himself to peer over the men in front of him.
The wind kicked up harder, yanking the fabric tight against Quinn's body. It swirled between her legs, almost forcing them apart. She could feel the fabric billowing around her hands as the pressure increased.
The leader of the squad suddenly frowned and spun around. He shoved the men side until he reached the smiling solider. Without warning, the leader punched the smiling man in the stomach, folding him in half.
As soon as the dark-haired man's head dipped out of sight, the wind died down suddenly.
Quinn, struggling to keep her legs together, collapsed to the ground, hitting it hard on her knees as the fabric once again draped over her body. Her ass thudded hard against the back of her heels.
“Rober!”
Quinn looked up to see that the leader had just yelled at the still-smiling man.
Rober rubbed his ass and looked up. “What got up your ass, Skein?”
“You.”
“The wind ain't touching you.”
Skein held up his hand, a threat to slash down with the broken spear. “No, but it was abusing a young girl we were suppose to be protecting. Your powers aren't for blowing up skirts!”
Rober leaned his head to the side for a moment, peering at Quinn.
She blushed hotly as she held her hand over her crotch, her fingers digging in a bit too much as she stared at him.
Rober winked and then looked back up at Skein. “Apologies, my leader.”
Skein turned and looked at Quinn. He was close-shaven with just a scruff of blond. His eyes were an intense green as he looked at Quinn again.
Quinn's flush burned hotter. There was no question that even Skein was interested, his eyes were bright enough to burn the clothes from her body. She dug her fingers in tighter, slipping the fabric of her skirt past the tight folds of her labia and up against her own clitoris. It was hard from the attention and moisture seeped through the skirt.
Turning back, Skein held out his hand. “Apologize to her.”
“Yes, sir!” Rober jumped up and hurried over to Quinn.
Quinn froze, staring at the solider. When he stopped in front of her, her head was less than a meter from his crotch. She could already see the ridge swelling underneath the tabbard. She had only seen half a dozen cocks in her life, including a flash of Pieter's manhood when he came out of the bathroom. A small part of her mind wondered if Rober's would be any different.
Rober held out his hand as he bowed. “Please, forgive me. I saw the most perfect ass on this side of the world and foolishly wanted to see more of it before I died. After seeing yours, I can die in—”
“Rober!” snapped Skein.
Heart thumping, Quinn took the firm hand.
Rober picked her up and she felt dizzy as she stumbled into him. He was hard against her body, the strength of his muscles almost overwhelming. She could also feel the ridge of his excitement.
“T-Thank you,” she stammered.
“And,” Rober said with a wink, “I would be honored if you were to give me a chance to see it again. This time under,” he glanced over his shoulder where Skein was storming up, “more consensual terms. An ass like yours should not be hidden—”
He was interrupted as Skein came up and smacked in the back of his head. “Shut up.”
Rober winked at Quinn who flushed at the response.
“Are you okay, miss?” asked Skein. Up close, he was a muscular man with an easy smile and large hands.
Quinn's heart beat faster as she looked at him, trying not to see if he was as hard as Rober was. “Y-Yes” Quinn managed to say. “I-I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,” said Skein, “Rober here is a bit too horny for his own good. Please, forgive me and my squad for embarrassing you. Rober, let go of her hand.”
Rober released Quinn's hand.
She let it slip from his palm, her cheeks burning as she relaxed the grip on her buttocks.
“Are you heading into the city?” asked Skein.
“Y-Yes, to the Third Street Market.”
“Then, in apology, please let me and Rober escort you.”
Quinn hesitated. Her parents didn't want her near any man for any length of time. But between Rober's comments and Skein's handsomeness, it was hard to say no. Sheepishly, she looked between the two men for a second and then gave a little nod.
Rober gestured for her to continue and then walked by her side. Skein matched pace on her left. It took her only a few heady seconds to realize there that she was sandwiched between two men, closer than she had ever been to anyone so attractive.