Inner sight 3

When I recovered, I looked into his eyes. He smiled and kissed me. I sighed. "I was noisy wasn't I?."

He nodded and smirked. Well, I wasn't having that, I was supposed to be the expert, the one in control. I squeezed his erection, still hard within me, and he shut his eyes and sighed.

Time to make up for lost ground. I wasn't used to this — I rarely came before the man, if at all. What had come over me?

When we had finished, I felt like I'd made up for lost ground. Scar had come again, and then I'd brought him to the dry orgasm that some men get when they are empty and exhausted but still completely turned on.

Scar held me tight and said "Thanks for the good time." The inflexion in his voice told me how deeply he meant it. I snuggled up to him and kissed him. I wasn't sure I would be able to cope if it was always as emotionally intense as that.

But mostly, it wasn't that intense. Most of the men were very straightforward. They liked me undressing them, they liked me washing them, they liked the massage, they really liked it when they screwed me, and they loved it when I sucked their dick. No emotional involvement, just straightforward sex.

Not all of the squad wanted sex. Digger was a good example. He was one of about half the squad who had families, and the first time he came to me, he told me that he loved his wife and that he didn't feel right cheating on her.

I didn't know that such honourable men existed, and I told him so. He smiled, and told me that he hoped I would find one.

"Ha, I don't think I have any chance now", I told him.

He thought differently. He said that the squad had been very doubtful about me, but that I had won their respect.

This was a common theme, that I'd won their respect, and they were comfortable sharing themselves with me. It was important to all of them that they believed that I would never say anything to anyone about what happened in my parlour.

I told him that, that no one would ever know what happened in here, but he said that he would know. Ok, I said, so I'm here to do whatever you want. A bath and a massage were fine, he said, but no more. So I didn't get undressed, and did my best to give him a bath and a massage without making them sexual.

But he got an erection anyway. The second time I served him, he told me, stuff it, he needed to come, and I brought him to orgasm with my hands. It was the same with all of them.

They all wanted me naked, and by the end of the winter I had taken every one of them in my mouth, though several of them had refrained from having sex with me. I didn't mind.

So they all adored me. None more so that Junior. He was the youngest of the squad, barely a babe. I wondered why he was here. He was so very nervous when he first came to me, shaking like a leaf. I sat him down on the bed, and held his hand.

"You're nervous" I said. He nodded. "Is this your first time?." He nodded again. I smiled at him. I enjoyed virgins. I'd seen a fair few, their father's would bring them in for an education. I usually ended up educating the father too while I was at it.

So I taught Junior about sex, how to pleasure a woman, what to expect from a woman. He learnt well, and after a few times he was one of the men who could reliably give me an orgasm.

It certainly helped me understand their health, being so intimate with them all. One of the most important times was when I was lying in their arms, relaxed and mellow, when we finished. I managed to get nearly all of them into this habit.

While they were doing this I concentrated on their aura, and put everything together, the feel of their bodies, the sound of their breathing, the taste of their seed.

I listed to their heartbeat slowing and tried to work out how they really were. I started keeping a score for each of them, points for how much energy they had, for any sore spots on their body, for how happy they were. I kept a little diary, with their names, the day, and how they were.

Although they were all strong and reasonably fit, not all of them were completely healthy or OK. I worried about a few in particular, the drunks.

They were going without here. Clonk wasn't drinking any alcohol at all, and Drowsy and Tin Man were only drinking the normal ration of wine for the night. They were all doing it tough, but I worried about Clonk the most.

He was actually showing some of the physical signs of drinking too much, and his aura told me he was struggling, that he needed a binge. I was worried enough to speak to him.

He was angry, he told me that I had no right to interfere, that I wouldn't understand. I held his arm gently and said that I understood addiction and the resulting price.

I think this shocked him; he burst into tears. He lay with his head in my lap and cried. He told me he knew he was falling apart, but what could he do? He couldn't let the captain down.

My heart went out to him. Once he calmed down, I told him that I would see him every morning he was at the camp in my clinic to check on him, and that there was some things I could do to help.

So I saw him every morning for a chat, and most nights I made him my special brew. It helped, but not enough, and I was still worried.

The soldiers were caught up in their work now. The captain worked with them on their rest day, teaching them tracking skills, and working on their weapons skills, particularly their archery.

Out on patrol they worked hard to make sure that they would see or track any human crossing the mountains. Every second patrol or so found men on the mountains.

If the men were convinced that they were Livians, they let them off with a warning for the first two weeks, and then after that the Dragon's Backbone was fully closed — instant death with no questions asked.

The news had been passed around on our side of the mountains, so there was no mercy. They told me that on the other side of the Dragon's Backbone was a small area of prairie, but no one lived there except some nomadic tribes who were not part of the war.

Whistle went off to meet with them and came back with the promise that they wouldn't come into the mountains or help any of the enemy across. The captain believed them.

He said it was good because the enemy soldiers were not frontier men, and they'd be a lot harder to stop if the nomads helped them. Whistle wasn't a real soldier like the rest of the men. His job seemed to be to keep track of everything. He kept a book where he wrote down everything that happened.

He would often go off by himself for the day, but he would usually be back to get a report from the patrols. If he didn't come back for the report, he would be gone for a night or two. Those times he came back with mail.

Most of the men were able to read and write and got letters from him when he returned. I had no one to write to.

I watched the captain at work. He really was a great leader of men. The men would do anything for him. I guess it helped that he wouldn't ask them to do anything he wouldn't, and that his commitment to the mission was clear.

He hardly rested; in fact, I had to chase him down to see him, but I insisted. He didn't have sex with me again, but he liked massages and coming in my mouth. I was disappointed, but if that was what my master wanted, then I would be happy.

When the soldiers relaxed in the evening, they were actually pretty good company. Every night, around the fire, there would be music and stories. Some of the soldiers had bought guitars or pipes, and I learnt to sing for them.

But their favourite art was story telling. Sometimes the stories were lore, mainly war stories, but often, they were simply tall stories. These stories all started with the same sentence, "This is how it really happened.

" Gong or Sock told the story of how they got the bath up to the camp several times, each different but all equally unlikely. I never found out how they really did it.

Good food, company and great sex, with a clear mission and purpose, what more could I want?

On the fourth night, I found out. The captain came to me, and asked me to come with him. We went outside, and sat cross-legged outside in the cold, facing each other, but still in the light of the fire. "Do you know what the Amartis effect the wizard cast on you is?" he asked me.

I had wondered, but I had never felt able to ask. I was afraid to know, I think.

He took my silence as an answer. "The Amartis effect is a fairly advanced spell. It awakens the inner sight of a person, so they can see and hear things with their mind rather than just their senses."

"Is that why I heard Edina?"

"Yes, that's why. And that's why I believed you as well."

"So what about you?"

He nodded. "Yes, I've had it too, but it differs for each person, how much they can hear. Usually it only works close up. The Wizard did it for you, so that you could be trained to avoid being tricked again the way you were tricked the first time."

I didn't understand. "How does that work?"

"With proper training, you can tell what intent people around you have, and you can detect and even resist magic if they use it against you. But the fact that you heard Edina suggests that you can see at a distance.

I want to know how far you can see. The further you can see, the more useful it will be to us."

"But I can't see anything."

"Of course not, you need to be trained, and we're going to do that now."