A Warm Bed

Music filled the crowded, packed tavern. More people than lived in Tun'Dar's whole village maybe, crammed in here. The tavern was the biggest he'd ever seen, and still it seemed too small. Drinkers, dancers, musicians, storytellers, workers, hunters, travellers, merchants, mercenaries, farmers, locals, all squashed together in a heaving, lively throng.

Tun'Dar was enjoying himself, and he knocked back another mouthful of the sweet drink in his tankard.. Especially after that trouble with those hunters, catchers, back in the woods, at any rate.

Of course he'd escaped. While his captors had been away, he'd finally managed to escape his bondage, free himself of his gag, and recover his belongings. His clothing and weapons. And he'd helped himself to a good amount of his captor's stuff, furs and pelts, and wound his way further south, stopping in the first ramshackle border town he'd come across.

Tendha, they called it. Or some such. Tun'Dar had been more interested in selling his loot. And with a purse laden with coin, he'd sought out the nearest tavern and now here-

“Top up, stranger?” A voice pulled Tun'Dar from his musings.

He glanced up, and tried not to stare. For before him was plainly the most beautiful young man he had ever seen.

His people, the Cihnna, and the other northern tribes, weren't picky when it came to partners. Life was hard, and dangerous. The days were cold, and the nights colder. And if you wanted someone to warm your bedroll of an evening, nothing was to be gained by snubbing your neighbours.

But this youth, Tun'Dar thought, was unlike any of the lads or lasses back home. In truth, none were, in Tendha. Woman and man alike were a far prettier breed, and seemed to place a puzzling amount of value on appearance. Looks. Being clean, and other nonsense.

The youth's hair was long, black. It seemed to almost shine in the dim indoor glows of the lamps overhead, and tumbled over their shoulders, down their back. A delicate, silver jewelled band adorned their forehead. Their skin was pale, soft, the lines of their face equally delicate and gently curved. Hard, probing blue eyes held his. And their attire too, was extremely strange. Unlike anything Tun'Dar had ever seen on man or woman.

Silver armlets, halfway to their shoulders, coupled with bracelets on their wrists, adorned their arms. Between them, their skin was covered in a loose, shimmery, transparent, vivid red material, like sleeves. Their dainty, feminine hands were wrapped in more of the shimmery red cloth, leaving their fingers bare. Their chest, only part covered in a top of the same, shimmery transparent red cloth, or whatever it was, leaving their lower stomach, neck and shoulders bare. And that neck, tall, thin, was adorned with a silver collar.

A wide, red cloth was wound around their waist, like a belt. It had a kind of skirt, attached, composed a sheen of similarly translucent red cloth, cut high and wide on one side, only partly obscuring the...notably tight-fitting pair of shiny, scarlet red briefs he wore beneath. Their feet, at the end of those equally soft, eye-catching legs, were bare too, but for a set of matching anklets, akin to the jewellery on their arms, wrists and neck.

The...boy, Tun'Dar supposed, cleared their throat., and Tun'Dar blinked. He was something, that was for sure. Even among the strange people of Tendha, whom Tun'Dar was still wary of, in their unfamiliar ways, this youth stood out among them. Perhaps he was from lands even farther afield?

“Yeah.” Tun'Dar managed, holding up his tankard quickly, shrugging off utterly unfamiliar feelings.

He wasn't flustered, by this...pretty boy, that was certain. It took more than some good-looking lad to get to Tun'Dar.

“Good.” The boy smiled, warmly, their eyes fluttering in a disturbingly appealing manner. “You're new in town, aren't you? We get everyone through here, and I'd remember one as handsome as you.” The youth held up a jug and poured the contents into raised tankard.

“Mm.” Tun'Dar noted, warily. He was having trouble deciding whether he wanted the troublesome, alluring youth to go away...or hang around. “I am Tun'Dar, of the Cihnna. I come from far to the north, to-” He started, explaining over the growing din as the carousing picked up for the evening.

“My name is Chellandra, but my friends call me Chell. I'm one of the hosts, here at the tavern.” Chell's eyes flashed in a way Tun'Dar considered...playful. “Did you want anything else? You've been looking at me more than the wine.”

Hosts. Tun'Dar's gaze strayed across the busy tavern, to other men and women who worked here, getting cosy with the customers. That was what they called...

Tun'Dar knocked back another mouthful of his drink, noticing only barely that it seemed to taste different than it had before, as he tried to distract himself. By Crum, what was wrong with him? Chellandra was...ravishing. He could imagine any number of things he'd like to get up to with the lad, so why was his mouth as stifled as if he'd been gagged?

“You can call me Chell, if you want.” Chell grinned, softly, setting the jug down on the table oddly carelessly. “I don't just serve drinks here, you know. I sing, I dance...and I do other things.”

“I do not need-” Tun'Dar started, lifting a hand to wave Chell off, when without warning the youth had slid into his lap.

The soft, delicate material of his absurdly impractical skirt caressed Tun'Dar's own bare thighs, as Chell got comfy in his lap, sliding one long, lithe arm around his shoulders, and leaning close, but not too close.

Crum, but he was beautiful. Tun'Dar's senses were dulled, overwhelmed by the lad's mere presence.

“From the northlands, you say? How fascinating.” Chell went on, making Tun'Dar feel like the most interesting man in the building. “Tell me of your travels? What are those wild, deadly lands like? Have your adventures been...profitable?” Chell's hand slid down his chest, over his shirt, down to his waist, and seemed to be heading for his purse.

First, though, it seemed to get there via a different route, and his delicate fingers trailed down further, over his belted tribal sash, to the front of his tight cloth briefs. All too quickly, the hand was gone again.

Tun'Dar hurriedly knocked back more of the drink, struck again, only a little, at the difference in taste. But all was new, since he'd left his people, and struck out on his life of adventure and discovery. All was different, why not this? And besides, it warmed him and settled his nerves. His nerves so peculiarly rattled by this strange, beautiful youth now cuddling up to him in his lap.

“Dance?” Tun'Dar mumbled, before he could help himself.

Chell smiled, and Tun'Dar found himself well pleased that he had apparently been the cause of it.

“I'd love to.” Chell's other arm was around his shoulders now, behind his neck. “Perhaps you'd like a...private show? You have a room upstairs, do you not?” Chell's face was close now, close enough that Tun'Dar could almost feel his breath. Tantalising, infuriating.

Tun'Dar wasn't even struck by how odd it was Chell seemed to know he had a room upstairs. Nor by the strange taste of the drink. Indeed, it was quite good. All felt good.

Well and why not? Tun'Dar had not sought company for the evening, but did he not deserve such? He was young, in his prime, a warrior of the tribe of Cihnna. And he was the envy of many, in his tribe, man or woman, and had been an oft-sought partner. Was it so strange he would be desired by those further south?

“Let's go.” Tun'Dar finished emptied the tankard, quickly, dropping it carelessly on the table.

“Shall-oh!” Chell gasped, as Tun'Dar scooped the lithe, seemingly weightless youth up in his arms with careless ease, and carried him across the tavern, through the crowd, and up the stairs.

If Tun'Dar was having trouble, halfway up, he thought little of it. His head felt oddly heavy, and his limbs sluggish, sloppy. But he'd had a long day, after all, and several drinks. A good night in bed, with this alluring young man, was all he needed.

The other reason he thought little of it, was that Chell had started nuzzling his neck, with his plush, warm lips. His hand caressing Tun'Dar's cheek, and touching his neck, and chest.

Tun'Dar pushed on, eagerly. He reached his room, and put his boot to it, kicking it open. He'd not even considered locking it, laughing at the innkeepers warning of thieves. Who would dare rob a warrior such as he, after all? And it wasn't as if he left any valuables in it. Tun'Dar wore all he owned.

“Oh my. You're as strong as you look.” Chell breathed, as Tun'Dar lowered him gently to the floor. “I wonder if you'll live up to your promise in...other ways.” The youth twirled, stepping back toward the bed and taking Tun'Dar's hand, guiding him.

“Doubt me not, pretty one.” Tun'Dar grumbled, pleased at the flattery, as he unclipped his crossbelts, tossing his sheathed club across the room, and taking his whip off his sash belt.

“Is that for me?” Chell murmured, his lips curling gleefully.

Tun'Dar paused, momentarily caught off-guard, halfway to throwing his whip aside too.

Of course, he'd heard stories about the Horta, the most depraved, reviled of the northern tribes, and their strange practices with those unfortunate enough to be their captives...

Chell snatched the whip away, coiling it in their hands teasingly.

“Have I managed to surprise a big barbarian warrior like you?” Chell chuckled.

Tun'Dar frowned slightly, mouth set in a determined grin.

“Here.” Tun'Dar caught Chell by the shoulders, and pulled the youth close.

His head felt so heavy now, as though he might fall faint. It was very strange. His body felt oddly weak, numb. This was very unusual. He'd not felt this way before, not apart from when the tribal elders had trained the younger lads in the village to recognise various potions and concoctions used to render a captive unconscious, or when Fronn and Reka had captured him in the Darkwood. Wait, did that mean-

“The drink, y-mmmppph...” Tun'Dar mumbled, cut short as Chell pushed himself up and pressed his sweet, delicate lips to Tun'Dar's in a long, firm kiss.

His mind went blank, under the sudden, unexpected, passionate assault, and his hands fell away from Chell's arms, and limp at his own sides. The kiss was like nothing Tun'Dar had ever...ever...ever...

“...uugghh...Crum...” Tun'Dar stumbled backward, sprawling onto the bed, weak as a lamb. “...uunngghh...” He moaned, weakly, his eyes heavy, his vision blurring.

“Sleep tight, handsome.” Chell's soft, musical voice cut through the growing haze of his mind, as the dancer moved closer to the bed, whip still coiled in their hands. “Let me take care of you...”

“...nngghh...” Tun'Dar groaned, as he could resist no more, and sleep took him.

…

Tun'Dar mumbled out a groan, shaking his head back and forth against the stifling fog that filled it, biting back the wave of nausea that threatened to wash over him. He sought to stretch his arms, and legs, roll onto his side, and off the bed, thoughts turning to food, after...whatever he'd drank the night before...

...by Crum, but he couldn't.

“MMPPRPPH!” Tun'Dar snorted, in surprise, forcing his eyes open, alert to his situation and remembering what had happened. “HRMRMPPH!” He grunted, furiously, into the thick, smothering gag wrapped around his head, over his mouth and nose.

He was laid on his back, in bed, his body was bound, tightly, in long knotted bands, seemingly of the same shimmery, soft material Chell's outfit was made from. And yet for it's softness, and weak appearance, his bonds were tight, strict, strong. It was tied around his ankles, and knees, and more was bound around his upper arms, and body.

His hands were tied with it too, in front of him, pinned tightly just above his crotch by the bands around his chest. And he was gagged again, with his tribal sash, which had been tied and knotted around his head securely, keeping some sort of plush, wadded stuffing crammed tightly in his bulging cheeks. More long, knotted bands of the misleadingly delicate substance were thrown across his whole body, and the bed, keeping him strapped down to it, unable to move, or struggle, or writhe away.

And again, Tun'Dar found he had been stripped of his clothes, his shirt and boots and bracers gone, leaving him clad only in his cloth briefs.

“Shhh...” Chell was seated on the side of the bed, his back to Tun'Dar, pressing a finger gently to Tun'Dar's gag. “You had a little too much to drink, that's all. Or at least, that's what they'll think when they eventually find you.” He smiled, kindly, but Tun'Dar could see the beguiling lad was enjoying himself.

“MMMPPHH!” Tun'Dar retorted, through his gag, as Chell produced his purse of coin, tossing it playfully up and down in his other hand.

“It is likely becoming clear to you, now, that I do not in fact work in this charmingly...rustic dive. That I merely pretended to do so, as a way to easily get close to you and charm you with my...wiles.” Chell explained, grinning now. “And if it isn't...then you are more naïve than I had even considered. It was surprisingly easy.” He chuckled, softly.

“RMMPPH! MMRRPPHH MMPPHH!” Tun'Dar thrashed about in his damned unyielding bondage. By Crum! What were these restraints made of, they were so strong, so tight!

“It's called silk, friend, and you'll not break it that way. Can I call you Tun'Dar?” Chell dropped the purse down his scant, loose top, apparently for safe keeping, and turned more, to face Tun'Dar. “I bear you no personal ill. But I am between jobs, and stuck out here in the boonies, in places like Tendha for the time being. I'm quite well known you see.” Chell pushed one of his long, athletic legs up onto the bed and moved closer to Tun'Dar.

As a common crook, and lying fiend, no doubt.

“MMPPH!” Tun'Dar protested, into his gag, angrily, trying to struggle further away and failing.

“From stout Bulwark, here in the north, to glittering Yandala in the east, beyond the deserts and by the sea. All the way to the kingdoms and city-states of the south, as far as old, noble Chantalois, and the Silver Empire of the elves, far to the west, beyond the vast Dust Wastes.” Chell went on, softly, mesmerising, almost musically, as he talked. “But not as Chellandra, or Chell, but as the prince of thieves.” His mouth curled in an alluring smile.

“Mmppph.” Tun'Dar mumbled, obstinately, more out of obligation than anything. For despite his best efforts, and almost against his will, he had become fixated on those round, plush lips, as they spoke.

“I'm not unreasonable, Tun'Dar. And...I'm rather fond of you, for some reason. I'd not like your first taste of the wider world to be so sour, not if I can help it be a little sweeter, and so...” Chell counted out several coins, seemingly from nowhere, in their hand, onto the bedside table, then leaned back toward Tun'Dar, stretching one arm across him. “I expect you made the money selling stolen goods anyway.” The youth was practically leaning over Tun'Dar now, their face frustratingly close, hanging above his.

“Mmpphh!” Tun'Dar strained against his silk bondage again, though less enthusiastically.

“Not that I'm one to judge of course, but all is fair in love and war, as you'll come to learn.” Chell grinned, and then without warning closed the space between them, pressing a softer, more lingering kiss this time, to Tun'Dar's thickly gagged mouth.

Chell's other hand was on his cheek first, then winding it's way down, past his neck, over his heaving, muscled chest, further down still, to his waist, his hips, his-

“Mmpph!” Tun'Dar grunted, into his gag, in surprise, the spell of Chell's kiss broken as the thief pulled away again. “Mmpphh!” He moaned, as Chell toyed with his manhood, squeezing lightly the bulging package in his tight cloth briefs.

“It's quite flattering, Tun'Dar, to know that despite slipping you something, rendering you helpless, undressing you, tying you up and gagging you, you're still quite so taken with me.” Chell smirked, playfully. “Time I was on my way, though, I fear.” Chell's hand was gone all too soon, for Tun'Dar's taste.

The lithe youth slipped from the bed, their flowing, soft silk attire making barely a sound as they padded across the room to the door. Tun'Dar was helpless, despite his best efforts. Helplessly bound, on the bed, and helpless in watching his damned thieving captor slowly making his way to the door, his hips swaying far too much to have been anything but intentional.

“MMMMNNPH!” Tun'Dar blurted, into his gag, as Chell checked the hallway beyond, and moved to leave.

“I feel sure you'll be fine, Tun'Dar. You're a...big boy. I wouldn't even try looking for me, better than you have tried. No offense.” Chell grinned, teasingly. “...all the same, I do hope we meet again. It's been some time since I had such fun. And made a profit.” The so-called prince of thieves patted his chest, over the front of his top, and Tun'Dar's purse of coin jingled within.

“MMRRPPHH!” Tun'Dar demanded through his gag, heaving against his bonds and glaring after the youth.

Chell blew him a kiss, slid out, and was gone.

“RRMMPPHH!” Tun'Dar rocked back and forth, against his silk bonds, binding him to the bed.

By Crum, why had he never taken all that training in bondage, back with his tribe, seriously?! He had to get free! Like hell would he let this slide! Tun'Dar would find Chell, one way or another, and then they'd see how things went when Tun'Dar had the upper hand!

...until then, however...

“GGRRMMPPHH MMPPPPHH!” Tun'Dar bellowed into his gag, heaving and hauling against his bonds with all his might, almost moving the entire bed with his efforts. “MMRRRPPPGGHH MMRRPPPHH MMPPPNNPPPH!”