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Hands of Gold are Always Cold

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The Piper irately opened the door to his chambers. He scowled out at the guard who had been knocking insistently.

“What?” He snapped. The guard pushed a young woman forward. She was young, perhaps nineteen, with a stunningly beautiful face. She wore a revealing outfit that showed him that the interruption would be worthwhile. 

“A gift from the Adderhead.” The soldier told him. 

“Leave us.” The Piper commanded. He closed the door, and approached the girl. As he got closer, he noticed her back and ribs were covered in faded bruises. He shook his head, it didn’t matter. He picked up a lock of her silky blond hair and rubbed it between his fingers.

“What are you called?” 

“Kyara, my Lord.” She replied, her voice was slightly husky, a surprising contrast to his own nasal whine.

The Piper leaned forward, until his lips were inches from her ear.

“Take off your clothes.” He told her. 

Kyara slipped out of the crimson dress, it pooled around her feet like blood. The Piper let his gaze slide over her, her striking face, pale blue eyes, smooth skin - despite the bruises- She had apple sized breasts tipped with soft pink nipples. The Piper felt his cock stiffen, pressing against his breeches. He circled her, taking in every detail. Her body was slender, pleasantly curved, her hips and buttocks well rounded. The silver-nosed man unlaced his breeches. He led her over to the bed, and bent her over.

 

Kyara felt him enter her. He did it slowly, as if he had forever. The Piper. A well known man, the silver-nosed minstrel of the Adderhead. It is not so bad. She told herself. You have had worse. It was true. At fourteen years old, her father had needed to buy a new stallion. She had been the payment, as if she were one of his accursed broodmares. Her first owner had not taken her often, and he had never once hurt her. For the most part, she had helped the other maids. In the four years he had owned her, he had taken his pleasure perhaps seven times. Then he had gotten engaged, and had been forced to sell her. The second owner had taken her often and violently, she would always be bruised the next morning, raw between her thighs. She had always hated the nights with him, usually thinking that she would be better off dead. It was awful. Lying pinned underneath him while he took her, reeking of sweat, and grunting like a pig. She had been his for a year, before he had somehow done something to offend the Adderhead, and was killed for it.

She had actually been relieved when the soldiers came, and when Firefox had asked her if she was his wife, she had actually laughed. Then she had explained that she was just a bed warmer, and they had brought her back to the Castle of Night. She had wanted to run and hide when the Adderhead had examined her as if she was some sort of exotic animal. The Silver Prince had announced that she would do perfectly as a reward to his Minstrel. And now here she was, bent over the bed while the Piper took her. She had learned long ago that if she tried hard enough, she could block it out, she could pretend it wasn’t happening. So she just stayed still, and pretended she was elsewhere, as she waited for him to finish.