Kindred Spirit Lodge Presents
Heron's Fan Fiction
A Touch of Leather
DISCLAIMERS: Xena, Gabrielle, & Darphus belong to MCA/Universal/Renaissance. This is a not-for profit fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended. The rest of the tale is mine with all copyrights thereto. This occurs in Season 3. LOVE/SEX WARNING: This story assumes an intense sexual relationship between Xena and Gabrielle. EXTREMELY GRAPHIC VIOLENCE: NC17. © 2002 P. Lord * Feedback to: HeronW@aol.com
Xena the Conqueror, incognito, finds entertainment with a certain bard.
The slaves left on the silent gesture from their mistress, closing the great double doors behind them. Xena dropped the counterweighted thick iron bar, which could effectively keep out a troop of guards. After all, she had it tested in just that manner to make sure. She took off the golden winged headdress and put it on a side table. A few tugs and the wide stiff belt dropped followed by the gold and black embroidered silk robe. She stepped out of the matching slippers and nude, walked to the far corner nearest the balcony.
Xena couldn't stop the satisfied smile that always appeared when she pulled out the small trunk. It was locked by an ingenuous series of pressure plates and slides, a cunning Oriental device. She pulled out the series of straps that attached the masculine shaft to hang just below her own patch of dark curls for later play. She pulled the baggy trousers over her strong thighs and fastened the belt. Over a long sleeved black tunic, she adjusted the leather bracers snugly about her forearms. A bulky vest, boots, gloves and a long cape nearly finished the transformation.
The Conqueror tied her hair up and back then scooped out the last two items. A light helmet with chainmail veils covered her face from just below her eyes to her shoulders. She fastened the last piece, a massy silver medallion of a blue hawk outstretched in a gold cross on an enameled blood red field.
Xena was gone; here stood Kurtaz, the Conqueror's right hand, and right eye. Seven years ago, he had shown up to proffer his services to the Destroyer of Nations. To the surprise of General Darphus, Kurtaz had a scroll with Xena's seal on it, inviting him to a private conference in her war room. He was allowed in and the door was shut. Darphus had leaned against the jamb, straining to hear this odd meeting. He caught the two voices, well, mostly grunts from the mysterious man but apparently, that was acceptable to Xena. The door opened and Kurtaz bowed briefly as Xena's announcement carried from the next room.
"Your orders shall be obeyed as my own. The medallion marks you as my voice and my sword to everyone; you are accountable ONLY to me. Now leave, do not disturb me for any reason until the ninth hour."
Oh yes, Darphus had objected a few days later. He wasn't the brightest torch on the wall but he was enthusiastic about his work and resented what he saw as a demotion. The mere fact that Xena had only broken his collarbone, dislocated his shoulder and left him pinned to the wall by his own dagger through his left hand made him realize he was of value, he was still alive.
Kurtaz would be absent for months then he would show up with the head of this recalcitrant warlord or that petty princeling. He was a problem solver; he worked alone and took his pleasures where he pleased. The fear of the Conqueror increased dramatically for this intimidating man who would show up in the midst of a village, or in the barracks, or in the market.
The two voices at once trick came courtesy of a character playing Medusa. Xena had learned ventriloquism from a troupe of wandering actors. Specifically from one enthusiastic young lady whose talents were as varied off stage as on and as thoroughly amusing.
The tall storm-eyed mercenary slammed open the tavern door and stepped up to the front counter. Three farmers at the nearest table saw the approaching menace and hurried away. The drunkest of them fell off his stool and spilled his half-full mug of ale over the right boot of the dark freelancer who worked for the Conqueror. The flustered man muttered a string of apologies to the floor closest to the boot and was rewarded by a kick that felled him like a hammer.
A young blonde woman was incensed at this treatment of a regular. Before the innkeeper could stop her, she was kneeling by the unconscious man, looking up at the intruder with angry sea-green eyes.
"How dare you! He didn't do that on purpose and he apologized!"
"Gabrielle, be quiet," her uncle, the proprietor, ran over with an oversized flask of the best Phoenician red wine. He held a full goblet out for the glaring figure. Gabrielle felt the small lump on the farmer's head and saw he was breathing easily.
"Uncle Pentheus, He can't do this!" She protested, rising to feet, her red gold hair flowing about her shoulders.
"My lord Kurtaz, don't mind my niece. She doesn't know any better; she just got here a few weeks ago to tell stories. No charge as usual."
"I'll take the girl as well," ordered the low voice behind the chain mail.
"But she's not--" Kurtaz’ leather covered fist slammed onto the bar, crushing the goblet in his glove. Pentheus fell back nodding, not trying to speak.
"You bastard!" Gabrielle swung a serving tray at Kurtaz. The edge of his hand broke through the center of it, a piece broke off striking Gabrielle on the temple. She was thrown off-balance and fell, hitting her head on the table edge. Her last sight was of intense blue eyes that faded into darkness.
No one stopped the dark figure from throwing the slight blonde girl over the stallion's back and riding off. Xena smiled under the chainmail veil as she held the slender form down, feeling the even breathing. The girl hadn’t been seriously hurt; Xena certainly didn’t want her damaged. A bard, eh? Perhaps this called for a change of plans to her scenario. It had been a long time since she had encountered any such spirited opposition. She didn't want to break this one by force, but by passion. Making a person a slave to her own submerged desires was an art she knew, and knew well. This wildness, this fire in the girl was a wonder. It was going to be a very interesting night.
Xena fastened the fleece-lined leather straps around the trim ankles and small wrists then pulled the ropes taut, stretching the figure fully outward. The girl was moaning a bit; the cut over her eye had bled a little and stopped, the bump from her encounter with the table was hardly noticeable. She wouldn't have much more than a slight headache.
"What did you do to my uncle?" Gabrielle tugged at her bindings and stopped, realizing she couldn't get loose. She was alone and far from safety in a place she had never seen before. Candles illuminated the large room and over her shoulder behind her, she saw a table with strange things on it.
"He's alive, for now." Kurtaz growled as he reached out and took a fistful of faded blue linen and tore the front of her blouse away. Gabrielle flinched then blushed at being exposed like this. The rosy tinge spread from her cheeks to her throat and down over her full breasts. The tips hardened and darkened under the hot gaze and cool air.
She was beautiful, trembling in shame and anger, her shoulders twitching, trying to cover herself against the dark hunger. Xena had to see more of this lovely young woman. She pulled out her boot dagger and sliced through the belt and waistband of the dull brown skirt. As the cloth fell, Xena was rewarded with more beauty; a trim waist, full hips and the small red gold patch of hair that crowned the apex of the firm strong thighs.
"Why?" Gabrielle asked. "Because you can? That medallion gives you the right?" Her breasts rose and fell in agitated motions, the lines of her ribs guiding Xena's sight to her declivity of her navel and then below to her center.
Xena reached out and brushed her fingertips over a dark flushed nipple. The aureole pebbled, straining for more contact. She didn't trust herself to speak, her need overpowering her voice. She pulled out a black strip of cloth and covered the eyes that demanded answers she had no intention of giving. She tied it securely, careful so as not to pull any of the wheaten strands into the knot.
She went to the door with a heavy tread and opened it. “Leave us,” Xena ordered in her own voice.
A rough deferential, “Yes, Conqueror,” and fading footsteps notified Gabrielle to her new situation. She was left in the presence of the Destroyer of Nations.
Xena added wood to the fire and removed her assassin’s guise, last off was the thick-ridged shaft that might come in handy later. She rolled her head getting the kinks out of her neck.
“You’re a bard, a rather good one.”
Gabrielle wasn’t expecting that. When had the Conqueror ever been in one of her little audiences? The closest she ever came to the palace was the Moonweaver tavern on the far side of the imperial city. “So your Majesty, you have me abducted, stripped and tied so I can tell stories?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Xena poured hot water from the kettle into a basin. “Bards make up tales from imagination as well as experience.”
“Um, yes.” Gabrielle was confused at the statement. A small gasp escaped her as a warm soft sponge went up and down her left arm then her right. The bath continued, soothing, intimate, and careful.
“I want you to use all your senses, remember sensations, then tell a tale,” Xena said softly. The girl’s wet flesh was so tempting, so close. Holding back her own desires, she washed the girl’s back then down over her sumptuous ass. Not grabbing that was a heroic effort. Xena went to the front and moved the sponge over the firm full breasts, not lingering as much as she wanted to, then over the taut stomach. Down one thigh and around, up the other. Her center was briefly at Xena’s eye level, and again the dark woman let temptation pass by. She tossed the sponge into the basin and picking up a towel warming by the fire, she dried the body stand before her.
Gabrielle couldn’t believe that the Conqueror was doing this task by herself. Bathing someone wasn’t something she thought was high on the Empress’ list of, ‘lead this army, enforce this treaty, wipe out that city.’ It felt good despite her being bound.
“You’re treating me like a--“
If Xena noticed the lack of honorific, she said nothing. “I want you to memorize everything you encounter tonight, all the sensations, everything that would go into a tale of Eros.” She went back to the table; after sniffing a couple of phials, Xena picked one with a subtle scent of musk and sunflower. She poured some oil into her hands and rubbed them together.
She went behind the girl and pressing lightly against her, rubbed the oil up along her hands and arms before stepping away and working the oil into Gabrielle’s shoulders with strong, tender strokes.
Gabrielle knew she felt breasts pressing into her as the massage continued. She felt excited and teased at the same time. What did the Conqueror want? She’d shared backrubs with her sister but this was decadent. Here she was being treated like a queen herself, albeit one on the losing side of a war. Xena’s hands were warm, pressing and stroking, and damn, it felt good.
Xena did not fail to notice the undulations in response to her massage. She avoided the darkened nipples, making every touch to the girl’s breasts draw out to the sides or down. She broke off briefly to get more oil then returned to kneading and squeezing, moving with the line of the muscle then across it. Buttocks, thighs, the calves delineated in lovely lines. The Conqueror had a thousand women at her call and hundreds times more that she could take from the lands she owned. This one surpassed them all, residing in plain sight in her own backyard. A bard disguised as a homespun goddess in the gold and ivory of her own body. Praxiteles himself could not sculpt a more perfect form.
Xena stepped back and poured a goblet of cool watered wine. She quaffed it down and poured a second. “Would you like a drink?”
Gabrielle’s head came up sharply; she had become lost in the sensations. “Yes, Majesty.” Her body thrummed like a lyre, her mouth felt like a desert but below between her legs felt like a slow warm spring. Cool metal was held to her lips and she drank gratefully. The cup left, drops stayed on her mouth and a tongue moved slowly across her lips. She shivered, feeling lightning flash right down to her core.
Xena let her mouth feast on the one before her, the coral lips parted. The girl’s hungry response told her much as Xena drew in her probing tongue hearing the low moans from the heat rising in the untutored body. The Conqueror then stepped behind the naked spread figure. She reached around, cupped the full globes, squeezing and releasing. She rolled the taut buds between her thumbs and fingers as she pressed herself against the naked back.
"Ah-- No--" Against her will, Gabrielle felt a rousing intensity. She can't-- she can't be responding to this. The commanding hands slid down her sides over her hips. Fingers crawled through the tight curls at the apex of her thighs; then they slid down and up between her nether lips. A second hand came from behind, nudging lightly against her cleft.
"Who has been here before?" Xena whispered in the girl's ear as she rubbed around the moist opening. A small gasp rewarded her pressing against the girl's sensitive clitoris. Her probing fingers met a delightful resistance a short way inside. What a pleasant surprise, this one was still untouched and all the more delightful for that.
"No-- no one, don't-- " Gabrielle twisted at the invasion but that only increased the friction at that suddenly tense area that felt so strange and felt so very good. She couldn't see anything, but sweet Gaia, she could feel it.
"Soon you'll begging for me here," the husky voice promised.
Suddenly the hands were gone; Gabrielle wasn't sure why but she wanted them back.
Xena took some deep breaths. Pacing, she admonished herself, it'll be all the more sweeter, to take the time needed. She picked up a small flail. It was a delicate cat'o'nine tails; the leather strips soft and evenly cut, nearly as long as she was tall. She also picked up another favorite toy. An adjustable silver chain linked two small falcon head clips of silver; a much longer, second, slightly thicker chain descended between the clips.
"You'll look good in these," Xena said, her voice promising the unknown. Gabrielle gasped at the change in tone. She turned trying to hear better as the blindfold partially covered her ears as well. She felt coldness against her nipples, rubbing back and forth then something on both tips gripping hard. Gabrielle cried out at the searing that slowly receded to a constant deep pulsing.
"Take-- Take them off, please-- "
"Don't worry, that won't bother you for long," Xena let the chain drop and watched the girl shiver under the cold lengths. The links were especially made with tiny bumpy surfaces; Xena pulled it taut and threaded it between the blonde's velvet labia.
A series of tugs rasping over her most sensitive spot made Gabrielle writhe in her bonds, not knowing whether she wanted this to stop or go on. Every motion only inflamed the tender nub, she couldn't stop the building tension, spreading out in a stain of liquid fire. The chain went a bit slack and a small mewling cry of frustration came from her, bringing a smile to Xena's lips.
She snapped the flail behind the girl and watched her flinch at the sound of power. A pull of the chain and the smooth links staggered enticingly over her clitoris. Xena smelled the bard’s arousal as she sharply cracked the leather strips across the delicious globes of her ass.
Gabrielle jumped more at the sharp sound than the impact. On her nipples and between her legs multiple embers burst and faded then came again as the Conqueror struck her with a master’s touch. The chain inflamed her as the strips caused the sensations to stagger. Moans and gasps and writing for contact and something greater, she didn’t know what.
Xena inverted the handle, stepped up, and rubbed the thick braided leather firmly between the girl’s legs. She held the chain to the side, still teasing.
The bard arched forward; unaware that she was presenting herself for easy access, only knowing this wasn’t finished, the tale had not come to fruition. Her breasts were rumbling volcanoes; fiery tips ready to burst. Below she shameless, hot and wanting something so badly. She felt a hand playing, teasing, stroking, and something else.
Spread the sweetness flowing from the girl over the leather, tantalize everywhere, and bring her closer. Stroking that near to bursting nub, as she thrust back feeling her trembling. Xena pushed the handle in, simultaneously drawing the clips off. The blonde cried out at the sudden surge of blood rushing back into the unbound tips. A slight barrier gave way and the shaft sunk in, as Xena played roughly with the tight red pearl.
Gabrielle forgot words, forgot captivity. She grunted noises not words, her gasps increased in range, closer and closer even as her breasts throbbed sharply. Her maidenhead tore and was forgotten as the ridged layers touched hidden places and fingers played her so that she danced.
She screamed as Xena took her to new worlds without surcease. The waves didn’t stop and she shuddered, peaking again and again, then she fell into violet and dusk.
The girl slumped, fainted. Xena carefully withdrew the whip and examined it with a critical eye. The scent was exquisite; the girl exceeded her expectations. Knowledge may be power, but newness, such a unique experience with such abandon was priceless.
Gabrielle awoke as strong arms laid her gently on the doorstep of her uncle’s tavern. She was wrapped in a thick blanket. Warm and feeling sore and changed. Dawn was half done; she heard sheep in the nearby pen bleating softly to each other in anticipation of grazing.
“I may come back,” the voice promised, low and seductive. Over the chain mail, the blue eyes held her softly. The black-clad figure swung onto the horse and galloped away.
“Come back…” Gabrielle repeated softly, half in dread, and half in hope.
The End - 'A Touch of Leather' - by Heron
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