ISENGRIM

Imbaelk 1264
evening
Free City of Novigrad

The guards of the Free City were everywhere. Something was happening near the prison. The same prison, they were to break into and free their comrades.

What has happened?

He didn't have time to think. Three guards were nearing the spot, where he was hiding covered by shadows. He looked around... There was no where to go but back. So he tried only to be stopped by a man in fine clothing and a hood. Next to him stood Devlin and Gael, looking at their commander with uncertain eyes.
"I know who you are" – the man started in a nice, deep voice. – "And the guards know, too. I even say more: they are looking for you, cause it was your men who fled the prison only few hours ago. You cannot hope to leave the city right now. But you can wait. Go to Passiflora, the Madame owes someone a favour. Tell her: 107 degrees. She will know" – with this cryptic remark he turned around and left.

If he is telling the truth we must follow his instructions. But from the brothel, there is no way out. We will be trapped.

Isengrim didn't have time to ponder, guards were nearing them from both directions, so he quickly ordered his men to follow and took a turn right, left and ascended the stairs to Passiflora. When he opened the door and all three sneaked in, they were immediately greeted by the Madam.
"What...?" – she started but stopped in the middle of her question, recognising him (or them).
"107 degrees" – it was Gael, who thought quick enough and used the password. For a second, the Madam was looking at them pensively. But soon she ordered:
"Follow me" – they went through hidden corridors known only to whores and their Madam to the small room with a bath. She looked at them:
"Take a bath. I bring you some clothes."

They did as they were told to. When she came back, she definitely enjoyed the view with a small smirk on her lips. Then, she gave them pants, trousers and shirts, all with exquisite elven lace adornment. They looked like city Seidhe. Well, almost... The Madam led them bare-footed to one of the waiting rooms and when they stood in the doorway, Isengrim couldn't believe his own eyes. A woman. The woman, as he began to call her, was lying on laps of two beautiful Seidhe whores. All three of them were enjoying themselves. She was smoking a pipe, an open bottle of mead stood close to them and the two Seidhe were touching her sensually.

She is a client. More – a patron – well-known to them. And liked by both of them, judging by the look on their faces. Every whore is smiling when she makes you cum, but these two – they are looking fondly at her.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft moan. The woman arched, allowing her head to fall back slightly.

This sound...

All three male Seidhe in the room looked at each other with mixed feelings written all over their faces and at her again.
"Fen, I shall pay you for making these sounds. You make clients crazy with nothing but your moans" – the Madam stated, judging their reaction correctly.
"Sorry, Madam" – Fen answered with a chuckle.
Isengrim realised, that it was the first time he heard her speak. Her voice was strong, a little bit to high but not unpleasant. At the moment: husky and sweet.
"We are going to the room. Amrynn wanted to have some fun before she'll be busy with clients" – the woman said with her face now buried in the raven-haired Seidhe's cleavage. The pipe was still in her left hand, held far from all of them with expertise.
"It's not that. I need a favour" – replied Madam.
"If I got paid every time I heard it, I would own Novigrad by now" – Fen answered with a chuckle, but she didn't look behind. – "Don't say anything" – she added.
The auburn haired woman looked at the faces of their companions: the raven-haired and light-brown haired Seidhe. She studied them thoroughly.
"Well, both of my friends look interested. Amrynn is already lustful, but my dearest Caoimhe is worried. You are accompanied by no ordinary Aen Seidhe, are you, Madam?" – she asked still looking at her two companions. Without a word or a glance in their direction, she went to the window. – "Six guards, two ready to enter "– she evaluated quickly.
Then, she looked at them. Her expression was blank, maybe a little bit annoyed as she continued:
"And we cannot use the sewers for at least four hours. Well, girls: now we have a conundrum. How to hide something in plain sight?" – no one uttered a word. – "The first rule – make it look, as if it belonged. Great job at that, Madam" – she bowed slightly in the older woman direction. – "But now, we need to continue the play. Amrynn?" – she looked at brown-haired Seidhe, who got up. – "Caoimhe" – the raven-haired Seidhe stood up, too. – "Are you up for the task in front of you?"
Both women smiled and nodded. They approached Devlin and Gael and led them out of the waiting room. It was the first time, as the woman looked at him directly:
"You were chasing me for the last five months and here we are: in a brothel, doomed for each other's company" – she tilted her head smirked mockingly and her eyes were glittering with amusement – "come with me."

She opened the hidden door on the wall and led him through a corridor. At the end, there was another door. When they got to the room, he started to wonder.

A hidden, private room? Black and silver, master-size bed, big wardrobes, no windows. Interesting place.

"First time in this room?" – she asked.
"Yes" – Isengrim answered slowly.
"Well, there are many rooms in Passiflora and I truly prefer not to know what's inside most of them. But here, it is perfect: heaven and hell, just in the right proportions" – she chuckled lightly. – "Wine?"
"Please."
"Sit down, I'll bring you a glass" – she pointed to an armchair. He sat comfortably and watched her pouring the wine and bringing one glass to him. However, she didn't handle it to him directly but knelt and put it on the floor next to the right armrest.
He narrowed his eyes and bent to get the glass. When his hand was closing on it he realised, that his right leg was already shackled and the same happened in a second to his right arm. He looked at her surprised, but she just casually stood up. His face was literally in her womb after this sudden action.

The scent... Still lingering after her play-time with two Seidhe prostitutes in the waiting room. Intoxicating, making me almost dizzy with desire. But, no... I cannot... I must keep my right mind.

When he bent back, she grabbed his other hand and shackled it a little bit higher. Then, in a matter of seconds, she took her blouse off – what caught him off guard – only to kneel again and shackle his left leg. After 60 seconds in the room with this woman, he was shackled to a heavy, iron armchair and could not move.

What the fuck?! How...?

In nothing but a lace bra and a light trousers, she took her shoes off, went to the cupboard to get her wine and with a curious smile she sat down on the bed.
"No anthill, I swear" – she mocked him with laughter – "but... Well, I have my own ways" – she added with a dark smile and looked at the wardrobe.
After a few minutes of silence, her glass of wine was finished. Then, she approached casually the wardrobe and got out an elegant, black whip.

How painful can it be? Well, come on, some do it for pleasure.

"Some do it for pleasure but I don't think, that you are this kind of man, Mr. Reynard" – she glanced at him pointedly. – "But then again, either by pleasure or by pain I do not wish to make you answer my questions. I want to send a simple message: never look a gift horse in the mouth. Are we on the same page?" – she continued. – "I would call our relation as... cautious trust. Would you agree?"
At this point – he was lost. He tried to come up with a coherent answer to the question he hadn't seen coming. In the slightest.

Then, the sound of the whip colliding with his own skin made him draw air with surprise. She was in front of him, opening his shirt and tucking its sleeves. The place, where she hit him: on the top of his palm, was already red. When he looked at it, she aimed for his cheek – from below, making sure that nothing can happen to his eye.
"Wha...?" – the second hit cut his word in the middle and made him loudly draw air, again.
"Would you agree?" – she repeated the question with a smile on her lips and shimmering light of candles in her eyes.

Not green.

The third hit got to his chest and a tattoo.
"I wanted to see this tattoo for a while now" – she murmured and her voice became different: curious and slightly lustful.
"It's only half of it" – Isengrim answered slowly coming back to his senses.
"I see" – she replied and hit again, this time his neck just below the ear.
He didn't make a sound but looked in her eyess.

These eyes... Blue and grey like a sky in the summer afternoon, just before a storm.

"Would you answer my question?" – she asked a little bit bored. With no hit. Not yet, but her hand remained in the air.
"Yes. Agreed" – she smiled at him after his answer. Genuinely?

Do I care? It's her game, so I might as well play along. For answers, not to please myself, obviously. She is as a dh'oine, isn't she? A filthy, ugly, lesser being...
Who am I trying to persuade? Her breasts in the lace bra are exactly as I heard – tempting, full and beautiful. Her hips and waist are perfectly shaped with the curves graceful and worthy of a sin. The tender place – just above her hipbone - visible, with a pale, flawless skin covering it. And the bottom, even still dressed in her trousers, looks as made for... Well...

He already felt his desire building up almost painfully.
She knelt in front of him again and said:
"Since you are already shackled, let me show you how to get away" – he stared at her with wide eyes, caught off guard, again.
But she didn't care at all. She took his left hand, freed it from the shackles and put it to the shackle on his right hand. His movements were blocked by the armrest and his hands in the position similar to those of prisoners. She went to the wardrobe again and came with a goose feather.
"This is enough to get out" – she instructed, putting the feather in his right palm.
Her facial expression was now reminding more a mentor, a teacher than a dominatrix she was just a few seconds ago. Then, she sat down on the bed with another glass of wine and waited.
"And by the way, Arlen and Faolan will be waiting for you at the old campsite. We got them out this afternoon" – she stated, looked at him pointedly and smirked at his shocked expression.