Quinn sat in the shadow of the stone dragon outside of the Mountain Cunt Library. The old words were still carved into the stone, the letters were written in the Emberkan's language but she knew the word for “cunt” in the barbarian's script well enough. It was plastered all over the town despite the new Franome administration trying to insist everyone use its new “proper” name of Mountain's Birth.
She grinned and shook her head. The barbarians were mostly nomadic but they had a strange way of naming their towns when they did settle. Along the Cerulean River which divided the northern parts of Franome from Emberka, the cities and towns on the barbarian side were named like Rotted Snake, Corpse of Thousands, Steaming Shit Pile, and Festering Bog. She didn't know the reason, but Mountain Cunt was a mild name compared to the more disgusting ones further south and up river.
The bell had run out only a few minutes before and she was anxious for the two soldiers to come back. She felt a fluttering between her legs when she thought of them. It reminded her of the heat that boiled between her legs when she masturbated at night while her parents were talking in the other room. She pressed her lips and legs together, trapping her hand between her thigh so she could discretely stroke against the swollen lips that were already moist with her excitement.
Their latest house was a three bedroom villa near the ocean. Only a few kilometers from the Emberka border, it had a gorgeous view of the ocean. In the evening, when the bright orange flooded the sky, she had enjoyed more than a few occasions of stroking her pussy until her body tensed in a ripple of pleasure.
Her finger trailed harder, caressing the hem that rubbed against the delicate skin of her crotch and thigh. It was soaked with her excitement and she wanted to drive a finger deep into her pussy to enjoy it.
Quinn was no stranger to sex, just not with others. She had caught her parents fucking more than once over the years. She had also walked into friends of the family bent over a table, strangers making out during the festivals, and even and old man who had openly stroked his cock while staring at her.
That time, she was only fifteen and stared until he came all over himself. She fled before he could say anything, but she still remembered the rigid length and wondered what it would feel like to enter her sex. That image had warmed her nights as she broke her own virginity with her father's knife scabbard and later with just her fingers or whatever felt good against her opening.
Her fingertips caught the edge of her underwear and she eased underneath the wet fabric. It only took a moment to slide along her hairless vulva to slip against the inner folds. Unlike most adults, she never had hair grow on her sex. It was smooth and slick as when she was a little girl, but her labia had matured with her age and now her pussy splayed open whenever she was excited. It also drooled with excitement, which was already causing a wet spot to form on her skirt.
Her clitoris throbbed and she brought her fingers up to it, twisting her wrist between her thighs to flick at the sensitive bump of nerves. Her toes curled in her sandals as she rolled her clitoris between her fingers, enjoying the little sparks of pleasure that radiated from her sex.
“You shouldn't be here.”
At an old woman's voice, Quinn jumped. The band of her underwear caught her wrist and there was an embarrassing second as she pulled her dripping fingers free and looked up.
The old woman looked like she was in her eighties, with a bent back and dirty gray hair. She had a large, swollen nose and spectacles perched along the ridge. One finger pointed accusingly at Quinn while she clutched to a cane in the other hand.
Quinn gulped and looked around, a blush burning on her cheeks. “Me?”
“Yes, you! The fucking cunt sitting under the dragon!”
Others walking by looked at Quinn and the old woman curiously, but made no effort to interfere.
Quinn wiped her hand on her skirt. “W-What did I do?”
The old woman hobbled up. “You are a sacrifice, aren't you?”
“W-What?”
“You're an Omelas. You have the stench of a Mark already on you, but you haven't been claimed by the bay. What are you doing so far from your home?”
Memories of her parents fleeing in the middle of the night rose up. “I don't know what you are talking about,” said Quinn as sweat prickled her brow. “We just moved—”
“There is already a claimed one in this city. You can't take her place.” The old woman poked Quinn between the breasts. “Go back to where you came from before it's too late.”
“Too late for what, old woman?” asked Rober as he came up. He wore civilian clothes, a button-down shirt and blue jeans. The outfit showed off his muscular arms and legs nicely. He still had a sword on his belt, but it was a different one.
The old woman turned on Rober. “He can smell her and she's already too old. This city can't have the beast awaken!”
“Beast? Please. There is no beast that would be woken up by just smelling…” His voice trailed off as he looked over Quinn. Slowly, he licked his lips and grinned.
Heat fluttered inside Quinn at his lusty look.
“… okay, she smells good. But not destroy the city good.”
The old woman scoffed. “I'm not talking about your tiny dick. I'm talking about the protector of the Cunt, the guardian of the bay. He marked his claim a decade ago and she has been allow to live. This one,” she pointed accusingly at Quinn, “is already ripe and ready. If he smells her, he'll waken early and then all of us are in danger!”
Rober snorted. “Protector of the Cunt? Please, if anyone is going to protect that pretty pussy of hers, it will be—”
“Rober!” snapped Skein as he came up around the statue. “You are still a solider.”
Quinn flushed hotly with the image of Rober between her legs. Her clitoris throbbed and she wanted to stroke it again, but seeing Rober's eyes on her, it felt like he was already breathing against her sex. Her body trembled in time with his deep breathing.
Rober sighed and patted the old woman on the head.
She shoved his hand away. “Take her away, little boy. Far away and then have fun with your little dick.” She shot a glare at Skein. “Yours too, I can smell your urges even from here.”
Quinn tensed at the old woman's fury, anticipating when it would be directed at her.
The old woman focused her gaze on Quinn. They were cloudy but shimmering. “And you. Run away, leave, move. I don't care why you are here, but you belong somewhere else. Return before it's took late for your home and too late for us.”
Quinn held up her hand. “I-I don't know—”
“Of course you don't! But you're already getting hot and wet for these two limp dicks. But as soon as you touch the waters, it spells the end for all of us. You are not the Cunt's sacrifice.”
Rober sighed. “All right, I'm getting tired of the old hag. Go away.”
The old woman snarled at the solider. “My granddaughter is one of them. You haven't seen the beast, but I have! I've seen what happens when she enters the waters!”
“Yeah, yeah. Go away, I think they are waiting for you at the temple.” Rober turned slightly to the side and whispered, “Or the insane asylum.”
Moving with a speed that startled Quinn, the old woman reached out and grabbed Rober by the crotch.
Rober's eyes widened as he bent over, a whimper escape his lips.
“Listen, you little fuck stick,” snarled the old woman, her voice taking on a guttural accent that sounded more Emberkan than Franome. “I don't care if you flood that cunt, ass, and mouth with your seed. You do it away from the bay. As far away as possible, do you hear? And once you get both of your rocks off, you take her away from here.”
The tendons in the old woman's hand stood out as she squeezed tighter. “Or I will rip off your fucking dick and shove it into his ass.” She nodded violently toward Skein.
Rober inhaled, his face pale.
Quinn gasped herself, trying to comprehend the words the old woman spat out. She knew that sex was a cock inside her pussy, but why would she mention ass or mouth. There was no way that a cock would…. The image of flashed through her mind of one time she saw a young woman kneeling between her lover's legs. She never understood why, but suddenly she imagined a lot more that could happened between their bodies.
A flash of pussy juices dribbled down her thigh.
Skein stepped past Quinn as she pressed a hand against her stomach, trying to control the sudden flutters that rose inside her. He stood between Quinn and the old woman. “Don't worry, grandmother, we'll keep a close eye on dearest Quinn.”
Quinn flushed at the warm voice claiming her.
The old woman glared at Skein and then pointed toward the mountain. “Fuck her over there, way over there.”
“I promise,” said Skein.
Rober chuckled painfully as he extricated his crotch from her grip. “I can promise that also.”
The scowl still on her face, the old woman pointed at both of them. “You fuck up and we're all dead.”
She spun around around storm off. “I need to talk to the elders. Fucking assholes.”
All three of them watched her leave. Then Rober turned around with a snort. “Oh no, don't let her enter the water!”
Quinn giggled. She had never swam before, they never lived near anywhere that had water to learn.
Skein sighed. “I think she's one of the old farts that refused to leave the city when Emberka left.”
“I thought all the Softs left.”
Quinn perked up. The Emberkan barbarians grouped everyone into two categories: Softs and Hards. The Hards were the warriors and fighters. The clans constantly battled each other in the steppes and plains of Emberka. The prize for the Hard's battles were supplies and Softs, the women and children. When Quinn had first moved there, her mother had told her horror stories of young women being kidnapped by the warriors but only vague hints of what would happen to her if one of the barbarians caught her. She could almost imagine being captured by a powerful warrior and dragged to his clan.
Glancing at the two soldiers next to her, she imagined it was one of them who threw her on their bed. Her pussy flooded down her legs, soaking her thighs. She squeezed them tightly together to slow the flow.
“No, some left. Apparently, the so-called Softs are able to walk away whenever they want.”
Quinn raised her hand to interrupt them. “I thought Softs were kidnapped by the… Hards?”
Skein shook his head. “No, it's just a way of seeing the world. For the barbarians, me and Rober here are Hards because we are willing to go out in battle and fight for our side. We'll bleed for our clan, as they call it.”
A flutter filled Quinn. “And me?”
Rober smiled at her and slipped an arm around her waist.
Her heart pounded as he pulled her close to his strong body. “You're our Soft, something to protect.”
She almost came. Her body grew hot as her juices dribbled past her clenched thighs.
“And cherish,” added Skein.
“Lavish with care.”
“And presents.”
Rober pulled a face. “And you know…” He leaned into Quinn, his breath washing against her throat.
She trembled in his touch.
“… other things.” His lips brushed against her ear.
Quinn moaned, her nipples growing hard and her pussy wet. She leaned into his lips, enjoying the heat of the electric caress.
“Come on, let's find some place quiet.”
“Rober,” said Skein, “let's go to the pub. Where it is public and dearest Quinn doesn't have to worry about you taking advantage of her.” He turned to Quinn and held out his arm. “Dear?”
With a sheepish grin and a heat boiling inside her, Quinn slipped her arm into his and then snaked her other one around Rober's waist. “Just for a little bit, though, okay?”
Skein came up on her other hand, his arm holding her tight. “Yes, my dear. We'll take good care of you.”