An Education Every Man Should Have

BY : msparx
Category: S through Z > Wheel of Time Series
Dragon prints: 1195
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; The Wheel of Times series, The Great Hunt and all characters portrayed are the rightful property of Robert Jordan and Tor Books. I make no money from this submission.

"Darkfriends stole it, Thom. They brought it here. Barthanes is one of them."

Thom seemed to study his wine, but his eyes darted to make sure no one was close enough to listen. More than the three women were watching them with sideways glances while pretending to talk among themselves, but every knot maintained it distance from every other. Still, Thom spoke softly. "A dangerous thing to say if it isn't true, and more dangerous if it is. An accusation like that, against the most powerful man in the kingdom... You say he has the Horn? I suppose you're after my help again, now that you're tangled with the White Tower once more."

"No." He had decided Thom had been right, even if the gleeman did not know why. He could not involve anyone else in his troubles. "I just wanted to get away from those women."

The gleeman blew out his mustaches, taken aback. "Well. Yes. That is well. That last time I helped you, I got a limp out of it, and you seem to have let yourself be tied to Tar Valon strings again. You'll have to get yourself out of it this time." He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.

"I will, Thom. I will." Just as soon as the Horn is safe and Mat has that bloody dagger back. Mat, Hurin, where are you?

Suddenly, the older of the three women was at Rand's side, interlocking her arm with his and practically clinging to his side. "My young Andoran," she all but purred. "It is quite rude to walk away from a lady without her permission. Come with me and I'll allow you to...make it up to me." The words were innocent enough, but her voice dripped with hidden intention.

Before Rand could react past startled gaping, the noblewoman - Breane Taborwin, Rand thought idly. That's what Thom said her name was, right? - was all but dragging him away. Short and slight as she was, for a Cairhienin, she was surprisingly strong, and Rand found himself trotting to keep from falling over. Besides, short of physically ripping himself free, there wasn't much he could do, and doing that would surely have called some much-unwanted attention to himself and the rest. Rand looked back to Thom for help, but his last view of the old gleeman before leaving the room was to see him grinning ear-to-ear and shaking his head.

Breane pulled him through the hall, making her way around and sometimes through groups of guests. Some of those guests had knowing smiles that put Rand even more on edge, while others just grimaced. Whenever he tried to slow down or pull his arm free, the woman tightened her grip and sped up. At that point it was either go along willingly or be dragged bodily. Soon enough, they were out of the hall entirely, the murmur of conversations and sounds of entertainment slowly fading as Breane marched confidently along the now-empty hallways, Rand in tow.

"My Lady, where..." Rand began, but the woman held a finger to his lips, stilling the question with a smoky look.

"I thought we could use some privacy," she said smoothly, suddenly throwing open a nearby doorway and darting inside. Rand found himself tensing, free hand gripping his sword hilt as he was pulled in tow. Could she be a Darkfriend? Was this an attempt to separate him so he'd be easier to deal with?

Rand had barely a moment to register the interior of the room - a four-poster bed, small but comfortable-looking, wall hangings and carpets that were fine without being opulent, with decorations and ornaments to match - before Breane pressed him back against the closed door with a firm hand. Before he could react, her body was pressed right up against his, her hands catching his wrists and cutting off any hopes of escape.

"My Lord," she cooed. "You have been most impertinent tonight. How do you think I should punish you?" Her dark eyes were hooded dangerously, but her coy smile seemed open and inviting.

Rand's mind raced. If this was some Darkfriend plot, he needed to get out of here fast; he hadn't come all this way for Mat just to end up with his throat cut in some lord's guest chambers. His sword hand wasn't free, but if need be, he could overpower her and get out the door. He'd have to get back to the party, there was no way she would try...

Suddenly, Breane's hands were around his neck, pulling his head down and kissing him quite thoroughly. Rational thought fled, and Rand could only stand in shock as her mouth ravaged his. He felt her tongue, soft and probing, before it was pressing past his lips and twirling around his own. She pressed herself more fully to his body, her breasts pushing into his chest. She moaned softly into his mouth and began grinding against him.

This has to be a trick, he thought slowly. She has to have some kind of plan to trap or kill me. And yet, she was kissing him so passionately, eyes closed, body flush against him, making small noises of pleasure as the two of them made out. And despite himself, Rand found that he was starting to respond to her, kissing her back and meeting her tongue with his own dance. Almost of their own accord, his arms snaked around her slim waist, pulling her tighter against him. Was she really a Darkfriend trying to target him, or just some idle party-goer trying to have a little fun? Bloody Cairhienen and their bloody games!

Breane suddenly broke off the kiss, gasping slightly and looking up at him with her dark eyes. "My Lord," she breathed, face flushed with excitement. "You are so tense..." Her arms were still around Rand's neck, but as she spoke they loosened their hold and began trailing downward, over his shoulders and across his chest. "I hear that you've spent time training in the Borderlands, my Lord," she continued, leaning close to whisper quietly in his ear. Her hands were at his waist, and there was little doubt as to where her intended destination was. "Why don't you show me how you handle your sword?"

Rand's mind was racing, thoughts and questions tumbling over one another half-formed or less, and before he could stop her, Breane was undoing his sword belt and letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. She hooked her fingers on his waistband and tugged, pulling his pants down in one motion. His cock - surprisingly hard, he was shocked to realize - popped free, standing erect and away from his body. With no more words, and Rand gaping at her like an idiot, the woman sank smoothly to her knees, her dress pooling out around her. She was leaning forward slowly, licking her lips as her mouth opened. What should I do? What can I do? I shouldn't be doing this? I need to get back, find the Horn, find -.

Once again, Rand's brain ceased working. Breane had closed her mouth over his cock, and all he could think of was the new warm and wet sensation that was enveloping him. She wasted no time, placing both her hands on his hips and sliding his cock in and out of her mouth. Each time down was another inch of him she swallowed, until the entirety of his shaft was snugged in her tight throat, all the while looking up into his eyes for approval. In some dim corner of his mind, Rand was impressed; he'd never considered himself particularly large, but on the one occasion that Egwene had taken him in her mouth during a particularly daring session, she'd gotten him little more than halfway down before starting to choke and gag. That memory gave him a slight pang and he couldn't help a wince. Egwene...

Breane suddenly withdrew, giving him a soft slurp before her lips let go of his cockhead with an audible pop. "You are most impressive, my Lord," she said quietly, one of her hands replacing her mouth and slowly stroking, well lubricated with her own saliva. "I trust you have no objections to...continuing with our sword lesson?" Rand found himself shaking his head numbly. He couldn't find his voice, nor could he tear his eyes away from the erotic scene unfolding before him. Even knowing it was wrong, he wanted to feel himself back in her mouth; his cock was so hard he could feel it throbbing in her hand.

Breane let out a soft giggle and lowered herself once more onto his cock. Rand let out a soft groan as he felt her warm lips wrap around him, her tongue tongue start to lick and tease his shaft. She wasn't going as deep as before, but her hand still wrapped around him; when she withdrew, her hand followed, jerking him slowly and steadily as she sucked on him. Light, but it was even better than before. Her tongue danced around and across his hard cock, quicker than a blademaster through their sword forms, probing and searching for all of his most sensitive spots.

"Oh Light," Rand breathed, the first words he'd spoken since being pulled into this room. He couldn't focus on anything else except for Breane's mouth and tongue and the pleasure they were giving him. It felt so much better than his time with Egwene, and that thought didn't even give him pause; he was far too gone in the bliss he was receiving to care. But still, he wanted even more.

Rand's hands found a life of their own, and he suddenly found them fisted in Breane's hair. Without any thought, he was suddenly thrusting into her mouth, sinking his cock into her throat as fast as he could pull it back. Breane gave a muffled squeal in surprise, but she gave no other protest, only leaned back on her hands as she surrendered to the crude pounding. Even with the skill displayed earlier, she began to make sloppy gagging noises as Rand stuffed himself into her mouth, the sounds mingling with Rand's labored breathing to fill the empty room. His mind was a clouded haze. Rand no longer cared if this woman was a Darkfriend or just a socialite playing games, his only concern was releasing all of his pent-up frustrations into her warm, wet mouth. He was so close, his breathing was coming faster, Rand was about to...

With a guttural groan, Rand shoved himself one last time, sheathing his cock in Breane's mouth as he would a sword in its scabbard, and felt his cock start to twitch and spurt straight down her throat. She grunted, then quickly leaned forward to push back on Rand's thighs. With a shudder, he felt his shaft slide out across her tongue, still shooting his seed. Breane smiled as she caught the last few strands in her mouth, then looked back into Rand's eyes as she closed her lips. He watched in amazement as her throat worked, swallowing it all down.

"Magnificent, my Lord!" she said breathlessly, rising gracefully to her feet. Her hair was a mess and there was drool and fluids around her mouth, but it seemed not to bother her. "I just knew that you wouldn't disappoint." She drew a finger along Rand's cheek, rising up on her toes to quickly kiss him on the lips. He could only stand in stunned silence, trembling from the aftermath of such a powerful release.

Suddenly, Breane was drawing away, walking backwards slowly across the room. "Now that we're both warmed up," she purred. "I think it's time that you returned the favor." Upon reaching the bed, she turned around and bent over, hiking her dress to drape over her lower back and exposing herself to him. Rand got more than an eyeful of lacy leggings and smallclothes and a shapely backside. Over her shoulder, Breane called, "Show me what that sword of yours can really do, my Lord."

It was then that the gravity of the situation hit Rand. What did I...did I just do? Oh Light, Egwene! Panic shot through him; Breane clearly wasn't a Darkfriend, but he wasn't supposed to be here, enjoying himself; he had to find the Horn, he had to find Mat's dagger, and he had to stop the Darkfriends. This was all wrong! Snatching up his breeches, Rand tore open the door and bolted out. He thought he heard a sharp, angry cry behind him, but the closing of the door cut off anything else; besides, he was already ten paces down the hallway, hurriedly buckling his sword belt as he made his way back towards the sounds of the party. He barely remembered to stop himself from actually running into the great room, slowing himself to a walk and trying to will his breathing back to normal.

Just before he strolled back into the gathering, Hurin popped around the corner, nearly running into Rand and letting out a startled squawk. "Lord Rand," he panted. "I've been looking for you everywhere, where have you been?"

It was only then that Rand became aware of his state: his coat and breeches were rumpled, his sword belt was askew from the haste, and his cheeks felt flushed. He could feel sweat beading on his brow and sliding down his face. Light, what must it look like I was doing? he wondered.

Rand drew himself up and straightened his coat as best he could. Clearing his throat, he said, "I was looking around for a privy and I fear I might have gotten lost. This manor house is a little confusing." He gave a wry chuckle, but it sounded forced to him.

Whether or not the sniffer believed him, all Hurin said was, "I was coming to tell you that I picked up the trail!" He pitched his voice to a whisper, even though the hallway was clear save for the two of them. "They're in a walled garden behind the manor, with Trollocs! I think they are still in there."

Rand nodded, pulling his belt straight and putting Breane and the whole incident out of his mind. "Lead the way, Hurin."

The End



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