Check out my books on Kindle.

Garth lounged in the plush VIP booth, sipping expensive whiskey as he watched Myst through the one-way mirror. The raven-haired beauty had a customer's cock in her delicate hand, working it with slow, inexperienced strokes. Her green dress had ridden up her thighs as she knelt between the man's legs.

"She's really taken to the work." Madame Rose purred, settling onto the leather couch beside him. Her corset creaked as she leaned forward to pour herself a drink. "Such a natural. Started with just serving drinks, now look at her."

Through the glass, Myst quickened her pace. The customer's head fell back, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. Her technique was still amateur – too gentle, not enough variation – but her innocent enthusiasm made up for it. The way she bit her lower lip in concentration it was like she was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle.

"Shame we're leaving in the morning." he said, adjusting himself in his armour. "Could have made a proper whore out of her eventually."

Rose hummed in agreement. "The customers already love her. That innocent act combined with her willingness to please? Gold mine."

The man tensed, his hips lifting off the chair. Myst's eyes went wide as his cock erupted, painting her hand with thick ropes of cum. Garth watched, fascinated, as the semen seemed to sink into her skin. She didn't even have to clean up between customers.

"Heard there's a new brothel being set up near the Dread Tower." Garth said, finishing his whiskey. "They are building a whole village there. Might be worth getting in on the ground floor."

"Oh?" Rose raised an eyebrow. "Planning to set up shop yourself?"

"Maybe." He watched as Myst collected her tip, tucking the coins into her cleavage with a shy smile. "Girl like her could make good money there. Still needs breaking in proper though. She's too hesitant. Needs to learn to love it."

Rose chuckled, a dark sound that matched the predatory gleam in her eyes. "Don't they all, dear? Don't they all?"

Myst straightened her dress. The man was already tucking himself away, probably heading home to his wife, while Myst prepared for her next customer. She had no idea she was being watched, no idea that her future was being decided.

"To new ventures." Rose said, raising her glass.

Garth clinked his empty tumbler against hers. "And broken in whores."

Myst's final two customers of the night proved just as eager as the first. Her small hands worked their cocks with growing confidence, though she still couldn't bring herself to use her mouth like some of the other girls. The men didn't seem to mind – her innocent act and pretty face more than made up for her basic technique.

Dawn found them at the stables, where four forrin waited impatiently in their stalls. The massive war-birds scratched at the hay-strewn ground, their powerful legs easily capable of carrying armoured riders for days. Myst eyed the beasts nervously – they were at least twice the size of any ostrich she'd seen on Earth.

"Ever ridden before?" Garth asked, helping her onto one of the gentler mounts. His hand lingered on her waist longer than necessary.

"No." she admitted, gripping the saddle horn tightly. The forrin shifted beneath her, making her squeak.

Borris and Sten arrived as they were securing the last of their supplies. The two lieutenants were dressed for travel in leather armour, swords at their hips. Sten's eyes roamed over Myst's body, lingering on where her dress had ridden up her thighs.

"Long way to the Dread Tower," Borris commented as they rode through Cliffside's eastern gate. "Why not cut through the northern forest?"

"Too dangerous. Never again." Garth replied. "Better to stick to the trade roads, even if it takes us past Heartland and the Brute Legion's territory."

Myst's thighs already ached from the unfamiliar motion of riding. "The Brute Legion?"

"Former Imperial troops." Sten explained, pulling his mount alongside hers. "Mean bastards, but they usually leave traders alone."

The morning sun climbed higher as they rode east, the city walls shrinking behind them. Fields of wheat stretched to the horizon, broken only by the occasional farmhouse or windmill. Myst tried to focus on the scenery instead of her growing discomfort, but the forrin's gait made that difficult.

Garth led them at a steady pace, clearly familiar with the route. He'd been suspiciously vague about his plans for the Dread Tower, mentioning only that he knew people there and could set up a new business. Which wasn't entirely a lie but Garth was planning to use a fake name to avoid any unpleasantries. Myst didn't particularly care, she just wanted to find her brother and apparently he might be at this "Dread Tower".

Myst shifted in her saddle, trying to find a more comfortable position. Her dress wasn't made for riding, and she could feel eyes on her every time it rode up. Between that and the lingering warmth in her palm from last night's work, she was beginning to wonder if she'd made a terrible mistake trusting these men.

But the coins tucked safely in her bag reminded her why she was here. If jerking off strangers and enduring some lecherous looks was what it took to find Jonathan, then that's what she'd do. She just hoped her brother appreciated what she was going through to find his perverted ass.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep purples and reds. After a long day of riding, they made camp in a small clearing just off the trade road. Myst's thighs burned from hours in the saddle as she helped gather firewood, while Borris and Sten tended to the forrin.

"Come here a moment." Garth called from where he sat by the freshly lit fire. His expression was unreadable in the flickering light. "There's something we need to discuss."

Myst approached cautiously, sitting herself on a fallen log across from him. The other two men finished with the mounts and joined them, forming a loose circle around the flames.

"What is it?" she asked, rubbing her sore legs.

Garth cleared his throat. "There's one more arrangement we need to settle. Part of the payment I promised my men for escorting us."

Her stomach dropped. "What kind of arrangement?"

"Each night of the journey," he said, leaning forward, "you'll need to service each of them. With your mouth."

Myst's face went hot. "What? But I thought—"

"The deal was protection and transport in exchange for your skills." Garth's tone hardened slightly. "Did you think just handjobs at the Feisty Faen would cover the cost of three armed escorts and forrin for such a long journey?"

She glanced at Borris and Sten. They were watching her intently, hunger evident in their eyes. The reality of her situation crashed down around her – alone in the wilderness with three armed men who clearly expected payment in flesh.

"I..." she swallowed hard. The coins in her bag suddenly felt very light compared to the weight of this revelation. But what choice did she have? They were a day's ride from Cliffside already. Even if she could steal a forrin, she had no idea how to get to the Dread Tower.

"Fine." she whispered, hating how her voice trembled. "But this wasn't fair. You should have told me before we left."

Garth shrugged. "Would it have changed your decision? You need to get to the Dread Tower. We can get you there safely. The price is what it is."

Myst closed her eyes, steeling herself. She'd already crossed so many lines trying to find Jonathan. What was one more? "Who's first then?"

"Ladies' choice." Sten said with a grin.

She looked between the three men, then pointed at Borris. Better to start with the quietest one. He moved to sit on the log, spreading his legs as she knelt between them.

The next hour passed in a blur of shame and determination. She worked each cock with her mouth, trying to remember what she'd seen other girls do at the Feisty Faen. Borris was mercifully quick, spilling across her tongue with a grunt. The familiar tingle as she absorbed his seed almost felt like a mockery now.

Sten took longer, his hands tangled in her hair as he guided her movements. By the time Garth took his turn, her jaw ached and tears pricked at her eyes. He at least had the decency to finish quickly, patting her head almost paternally afterward.

"Good girl." he praised. "See? Not so bad. Get some sleep now, long ride tomorrow."

Myst retreated to her bedroll, wrapping herself tightly in the thin blanket. As she drifted off, she tried to focus on her goal. Find Jonathan. Find a way home. And maybe, just maybe, figure out why her body hungered for more even as her mind recoiled in shame.

The men's quiet conversation around the fire eventually faded into the night sounds of the wilderness. Myst's last thought before sleep took her was a desperate hope that the Dread Tower wasn't too far away.