Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Except there’s no fire to make the food.
There’s no house, just a lone tent on a turtle’s back.
That leaves just one task for a slave, and it’s not one I’m particularly looking forward to. My new sea-ogre “husband” is oversized, and he’s sure to have a huge cock. Nothing to be done about it save for practicing my “why yes, I love a huge pike shoved into my innards” face.
I smile brightly as the ship passes, only for the sea-ogre to jump over the side of the turtle and disappear into the water. Oh. Perhaps he’s going to follow and make sure that the ship leaves his territory. I wait patiently for him to return, keeping my expression eager. Like this is all I have ever wanted, to be a sea-ogre’s bride. Like I have no thoughts and dreams of my own, and that I want nothing more out of life than a giant prick in me.
Time passes, and there’s no sign of the sea-ogre. I scan the waters, looking for the sail atop his head, but find nothing. The ship is long gone, and I’m alone on the turtle’s back.
It makes me nervous. He’s coming back, right? If he leaves me here, I’ll have to swim to shore. It’s just that…there’s nothing but sheer cliffs in this strait, and there’s no shore to be had without a very, very long swim. I’d drown before I made it to shore. He’ll come back, I tell myself. It’s his turtle. His territory.
Something splashes in the water, and I automatically look over. It’s not the sea-ogre, just a fish jumping, but it reminds me of my promise. I swore to the god Vor that I’d find him a huge fish and offer it up as thanks. I clasp my hands and bow my head, thanking the god for saving me from the brothels, and that as soon as I figure out how to get him his fish, I’ll offer it. I’m grateful that the capricious Lord of the Waves saved me. Being a sea-ogre’s woman isn’t exactly what I asked for, but I hadn’t been specific, either.
You get what the gods give you, and you’re grateful for it.
The sun warms me for a time, but then the shadows move and the turtle’s broad back falls into the shade of the cliffs once more. I’m chilled to the bone, shivering and hungry, and there’s still no sign of the sea-ogre. Am I supposed to be doing something, I wonder. Does he expect me to make him dinner? Set up a bed? Something?
I get to my feet, stretching, and my muscles protest. I’ve held myself in the same cramped position for hours, and I don’t know why. I’m free. I rub my raw wrists, now rid of the manacles, and love how light they feel. Whatever else happens…I’m free. I stretch, my arms over my head, and then shiver at the cold.
“Are you here?” I call out. “Lord Sea-Ogre?”
There’s no response. I didn’t expect to hear one, but I figured it was worth a try.
“Your bride is in danger of freezing her tits off,” I call again. “Have you anything warm I can wear? A fire I can build? Something? Anything?”
No response. I’m alone on the turtleback island.
Right, well, if he’s not coming back, I’m not going to sit out here in the open. I dust off my ragged gown, noticing that it’s practically falling apart now that it’s gotten wet, and head for his tent. I’m curious what he’s hiding in there.
Inside, everything is in bags. There’s no bed, no cozy sitting chair, no nothing. Just bags and bags. Well, sort of. There’s dead fish as well.
The strange, puffed-up fish look like a child’s ball, each one as big around as a circle I can make with my arms. The mouth of each one is sewn shut and they’re dried and hard and hollow. There’s a cord through the mouth, and on the other end of the cord is a small bag made out of more of the strange leather. I run my hand over the leather itself, because it looks scaly and strange. Is it from a snake, I wonder. Or something else? I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s tied tightly in one spot and then stuffed with a cloth rag and tied lower down below the rag. It seems like a lot of work, and I’m not entirely sure what the reasoning is behind it. Ritual? Spellcraft?
I finally get the last knot worked through and peek inside the bag. It’s dark, but I can make out the gleam of…gold? I reach in and my fingers brush over cool metal, encrusted with gems. A few more touches and I realize the entire bag is full of jewelry.
By the gods, the sea-ogre is rich.