Read The Tournament Online

Authors: Scarlett Vora

The Tournament

BOOK: The Tournament
4.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub


1 - The Tents

2 - The Pavilion

3 - The Guild Hall

4 - Examination

5 - The Mage Hall

6 - The King's Gratitude

7 - The Most Intimate Service

8 - Strong Magic

9 - The Courtiers

10 - The King's Cock

11 - The Tents Close

12 - Surfeit

13 - The Ministers

14 - The Court

15 - The Tournament Ends

16 - Brothers

17 - A Diamond Bead

The Tournament

an erotic novella by Scarlett Vora

Text copyright 2013 Erin Bauer

All Rights Reserved

The Tents

In Morrow, any girl could become queen. And most of them tried.

The route to the throne began in the Tents. They went up whenever the Army gathered in the city, which happened rarely and never lasted long. In a country as rich and fertile as Morrow, soldiers were always needed at the borders, where jealous neighbors lurked.

But the long war with Odesh had finally ended, and Morrow had triumphed. The King had called a Tournament to celebrate, announcing that the soldiers deserved a reward for their efforts.

The inns were full to bursting. Locals rented patches of garden or roof to the women who flooded the city, bedrolls slung under one arm. Hundreds arrived every day, from every corner of the country.

They all dreamed of bracelets. Some dreamed of crowns.

The Tents filled the grand plaza in front of the Palace gates. One central tent and a few small satellites, all made of blue and white silk, with pennants snapping in the breeze. The canopy rose several stories high and spread wide enough to cover a field built for horse races and military parades.

"You don't have to go in at all," said Ruby's mother, who'd walked her to the plaza. "Nobody will think less of you."

Ruby glanced down at her mother's wrist. In Morrow, only women who'd entered the Tournament could wear bracelets, and only Tournament bracelets were allowed. Her mother wore the leather cord issued by the Steward who'd overseen
Tournament, without a single bead strung through it. She'd entered, but she'd only faced one Trial. She hadn't even completed it.

"I know," said Ruby.

"There's no shame in it," her mother insisted.

Ruby disagreed. She'd been born in a no-bead household. She wouldn't die in one.

"Though I wouldn't mind being mother of the Queen!" Ruby's mother laughed. "That's what
be thinking about: sitting down on the throne at the end of it all."

"I should go inside," said Ruby. "The tent will fill up, and they'll make me come back tomorrow."

"Good luck," said her mother, giving her a quick hug. "Remember, I'm proud of you no matter what!"

Ruby returned the hug and stepped, alone, into the short line that fed into the Tents. A silk curtain split down the middle to reveal a short vestibule and then another set of flaps that opened onto the main Tent.

Inside, people were fucking.

of people were fucking. Moans and grunts filled the air, punctuated by the staccato beat of flesh slapping against flesh. Everywhere she looked, Ruby saw men's asses clenching and thrusting. Breasts swaying. Right in front of her, a soldier so scrawny she could count his ribs had pushed a sweetly rounded blonde onto her knees. He squirted a thin stream of oil from a soft pouch he'd strung over his naked shoulder onto his surprisingly thick cock before crouching over the girl and burying himself in her with one sure stroke.

These were bodies. Human animals. Not exactly people anymore.

"Young lady," said a sharp voice at her side. "Please pay attention."

Ruby blinked and turned to the speaker. An older gentleman with white hair and dark, ashy skin stood at a podium. He was calm and fully clothed, wearing the King's colors. The Steward. He held out his hand, a plain leather cord draped across the palm.

Ruby extended her arm, dazed by the chaos around her.

"Your robe," the Steward reminded her.

"I forgot." Ruby pulled the knot loose and let the robe slide down her shoulders. She wore nothing beneath. "Where…?"

"In the pile." The Steward tilted his head at a pile of identical blue robes. Before entering the Tournament, aspirants had to visit the Tournament physicians to prove that they were physically ready and accept a contraceptive charm. They collected a robe from the physicians, and handed it in at the Tents. Ruby had gone weeks ago.

Ruby bundled up the robe and tossed it into the pile, just as a big, scarred hand reached around her waist to settle on her belly.

"Congratulations, little bird," purred a rough voice in her ear, a man's warm fitting warm and solid against her back. The tip of his erection poked her bare bottom, already tacky with dried fluids. "You're on your way."

"Not until the bracelet's on," the Steward said sharply.

The hand lifted from her belly. The man didn't leave—his arms still hovered around her, claiming but not touching—but he obeyed. The rules of the Tournament were sacred.

Ruby presented her wrist again.

"Welcome to the Tournament." The Steward wrapped the leather cord around her wrist and tied a simple knot. "Your first service is to the King's Army. We believe that any woman who aspires to sit upon a throne must know what it's like to lie on her back in the dirt. We believe that no Queen deserves to take from her country until she has first learned to give to it. Our soldiers protect us. They give their lives for our us. Will you share your body with them?"

"I will," said Ruby.

The First Trial was a rite of passage for the women of Morrow. A test of endurance they all attempted at least once, and remembered into old age. So long as the Tents stayed up, all the King's soldiers could come and go as they pleased, as often as they wanted, and use any of the girls they found inside.

Morrow never ran out of soldiers.

For every soldier who died in a distant war, five waited to take his place. Most young men never saw the frontier; but almost every woman in Morrow, even the proudest—especially the proudest—wore a bracelet.

The Steward finished tying the knot. "Your service lasts until midnight. You can leave at any time, but doing so ends your progress in the competition. Go to the pink tent, just there, to refresh yourself." He pointed to an arched opening that looked very far away, with a sea of bodies in between. "You are allowed two baths and as many breaks as you need, though none may last longer than fifteen minutes. Our attendants carry timepieces, and if you exceed the fifteen minute limit your progress in the competition will end. Do you understand?"

"I do," said Ruby.

"Morrow thanks you for your generosity," said the Steward, and turned to the next girl.

The soldier who'd stepped up behind her didn't hesitate. He grabbed Ruby by the waist and threw her over his shoulder. Blood rushed to her head, thumping against his ass, as he picked his way through an obstacle course of spread legs and pumping rears.

"Got a fresh one," said her soldier, kicking at the ribs of a friend. Beefy, with a head of blond curls, the friend was already pumping away at a slender brunette whose dusky breasts quivered with every thrust.

"On your knees, love," said the friend, withdrawing. His cock was short but very thick. He scooted to the side, making room for Ruby and her soldier, and smacked the brunette on one hip. She rolled, making a strange face—both dissatisfied and pained—as the blond penetrated her again.

"What did I tell you?" The soldier set Ruby down and gave her a moment to look at him. He was older, with a little gray in his dark hair, but tall and thickly muscled. Wiry curls pelted his chest, tapering to a thin line as they trailed down a rounded belly too firm to be called fat.

His cock was ordinary. A handspan in length, as big around as the circle made by her thumb and index finger. It looked puny on his burly frame.

"Gotta get here early and snatch 'em as they come in," said her soldier. Officer, she'd call him. "By the time it's dark, even a bath won't liven them up."

"Ungh," said the blond, fucking his brunette. "This cunt's tight."

"At my age, I have to be selective," said Officer, pushing Ruby to her knees. He threaded the fingers of one hand through her hair and took hold of his cock with the other. "Gotta make it count. Open wide, little bird."

Ruby opened her mouth.

He guided his cock inside, using the hand in her hair to hold her still. "Suck," he instructed, thrusting shallowly. "Suck my cock."

It was warm in her mouth, velvety soft, not so big that it hurt her jaw. Ruby sealed her lips around him and sucked.

"That's right." Officer covered her ears with his palms, holding her steady as he pushed his cock deeper, until the tip prodded the back of her throat. His hard belly crushed her nose. "Hold on. You stay right there, little bird. Gonna buck a little? Fucking love that."

Ruby relaxed and focused on breathing. She could pull a thin trickle of air in. Let a thin trickle out.

"Look at that cunt," said a new voice. Close, just behind her. Dry, calloused fingers stroked between her legs. A finger nudged inside of her, wiggled in and out. "Fresh. You gonna use that?"

"Was going to." Officer thrust shallowly, not pulling out far enough to let her breathe. The way he held her, she knew he'd only pin her tighter if she tried to fight him. "But this one's got a mouth on her."

"Fuck her face," said the blond friend. "I'm gonna come. Fuck her face, man. Fuck it."

Officer pulled out. Ruby gasped for air, tears leaking from her eyes, and he laughed. "Feels good to breathe, doesn't it, little bird?"

"Bastard," gasped the friend. "You bastard. Fuck her face."

"I love a redhead," said the new man, the one who'd fingered her.

"Red little mouth, too," said Officer, pulling her hair a little. Ruby squealed, just to excite him. "Hot and willing."

"Sounds like a treat," said the new man. He chuckled. "Guess I'll start the line."

Officer pried her mouth open with musk-scented fingers, clasped her skull again, and took her mouth with deep, steady pumps of his hips. He didn't let her participate. Asked for no tricks. He wanted to use her, that was all.

Ruby relaxed. She let him use her. She wanted to be used.

The friend began to pant and growl. His fat, stumpy cock squelched as he fucked his brunette and he made mean little grunts.

Officer tightened his grip on her hair when his friend came. His thrusts lost their rhythm. He stabbed his cock into her mouth and snarled, "Take it," when Ruby whined. She tried to relax again but he was squeezing her head so tight, and forcing the head of his cock into her throat.

"Swallow," Officer ordered, trying to gag her as he spurted his seed. "Swallow every drop. You love it. You love my cum."

He dropped her when he was done.

Ruby wobbled but managed to catch her balance and stay upright. Next to her, the friend lay on his side, sheened in sweat, his cock a limp bud in a nest of sandy hair. The brunette had cuddled up next to him, a show of fondness that might win her an untimed break if he wanted another go at her, and cared to keep other men away in the meanwhile.

"Fine little cocksucker," said Officer, patting her cheek. He was already scanning the distance, looking for the door.

Ruby swiped the back of her hand across her lips.

"Don't get up," said the man who'd fingered her. He laid a hand on her shoulder to hold her in place.

She obeyed, watching Officer disappear among the press of bodies. In front of her, a woman with great jiggling breasts bounced atop a soldier whose upper body Ruby couldn't see. His cock was red and shiny in the magelight, glistening with the woman's juices. Three men stood in a circle around her, just watching.

A pair of pale, knobby knees landed in the dirt between Ruby's. Freckled arms reached around to cup her breasts. The soldier's hands were hairless and oiled.

BOOK: The Tournament
4.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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