Work Text:
It was very dark beneath the blindfold. Whoever tied it had done a very thorough job. Lia shifted uneasily in her chair, her hands wriggling unsuccessfully beneath their ties. Rope burned roughly against her skin.
Somewhere nearby, metal clanged, and footsteps followed.
‘I’m going to have to ask you to stop nosing around here,’ came a familiar voice, soft in its menace. ‘I thought we had an understanding. You won’t take bribes, that’s alright. The one straight Fist. I can almost admire it. And I told my ladies to leave you alone. But it seems you won’t return the favour.’
‘There’s no need for this blindfold,’ Lia snapped. ‘I’m in your cells, aren’t I?’
‘Changing the subject will get you nowhere, sweetheart,’ Nine Fingers murmured. ‘Now, about your ‘investigations’. I’ve been nice, so far. Too nice. Taken a chance on your pretty face hiding a smart brain.’
‘Not the only pretty face here,’ Lia remarked coolly. ‘Shame you won’t let me see yours again.’
‘Oh-ho.’ Nine-Fingers’ voice was suddenly closer to her ear. A hand clamped on her shoulder, making her jump. ‘So that’s the reason you keep coming back, girl.’
‘I’m not a bloody girl,’ Lia muttered. ‘Knocked out two of your arseholes before they got me.’
‘Well. Since you’re all tied up in my company, I think I’ll be calling you what I fucking like. So. What do you propose, girl?’
‘For you and your thugs to stop running explosives past the city walls.’
Nine-Fingers snorted. ‘Nice try, Fist. I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Lia.’
‘For you to bloody untie me, then!’
The hand withdrew from her shoulder. ‘Suit yourself. I’ll have my crew throw you out tonight, when it’s nice and dark out. Might even have you delivered to the door of that fancy tower, if we’re feeling generous. But make no mistake, Fist. You come back one more time, and we’ll be having that sharp tongue of yours. And maybe those prying eyes too.’
Lia scoffed. ‘Take them now, then. I’m not giving up.’
‘You really want me to take off that blindfold, don’t you?’ Nine-Fingers’ footsteps came closer. ‘Well. Since I’m in a forgiving mood. And this is the last we’ll see of each other, I trust.’
Candlelight warmed Lia’s eyes as the blindfold fell free. Nine Fingers stepped back in front of her. She was in the Guild cells. Again. And one day she’d work out where the Guild actually was.
‘Just as pretty as you remembered?’ She raised her dark eyebrows, the coarse strip of fabric hanging from her fingers.
‘Oh, piss off,’ Lia groaned.
‘I’ll take that as a yes then.’
Nine-Fingers smirked. A warm stretch twinged down the back of Lia’s tail, and she realised too late that it was flexing.
‘Shame you’re too much of a goody two-shoes to do anything about it.’
‘We can't all be thieves and murderers,’ Lia fired back. Her voice dropped to a mutter. ‘Well…’
‘Well…?’
Nine-Fingers’ hips swayed slightly. She was very… persuasive. Lia swallowed her nerves, and attempted to sweep her captor’s taut, athletic body with a coolly appraising stare.
There was a slight snort. ‘Go on, girl, use that jabbering tongue. Gods know it won’t shut up when you’re talking Fist business.’
Frustration broke through her last reserve. ‘If you weren’t the biggest bloody criminal in Baldur’s Gate, I’d buy you a drink.’
‘And if you weren’t a meddling little Fist, I’d take you up on it. But as it is, I doubt you’d want to be seen with me in Elfsong now, would you?’
Lia arched an eyebrow. ‘What about the Blushing Mermaid?’
‘Oh, you really want to be seen with me in public? That’d be the last of your job, girl. Even the most corrupt Fist knows better than that.’
‘Why don’t you bloody tell me what you want? Since you don’t like any of my suggestions.’
‘No need to throw a tantrum,’ Nine-Fingers murmured, and Lia wanted to slap her. ‘I was going to suggest my office.’
‘Your office?’ Lia asked, incredulous. ‘As if you’d let a Flaming Fist in there.’
‘Even the great Devella Fountainhead might struggle to investigate while trussed up like a bird for slaughter. A very pretty bird, of course.’
Lia growls. ‘Don’t bloody tell me you’ve pulled this act with Devella too.’
‘I thought she’d be Gauntlet Fountainhead to you, since you’re such a good little Fist. And maybe. Might have sneaked a quick fuck in the back alley with her once upon a time.’ Her thumb brushed against Lia’s jaw. ‘You’d be amazed how convincing these nine fingers can be. If I had all ten, it wouldn’t even be fun any more.’
Lia groaned, and Nine-Fingers laughed.
‘See? Far too easy as it is. Now close your eyes. If you’re coming to my office, that blindfold is going back on.’
Twenty-five steps, Lia counted, to get to Nine-Fingers’ office from the cells. She had to leave here with some more information on the Guild… because she was going to have a very hard time justifying this to herself if she didn’t. Admittedly, she couldn’t see how that information would be very useful, but something had to be better than nothing. She couldn’t leave here with nothing more than drenched shirt-tails to show for it.
There was a rough shove between her shoulder blades after the door creaked open, and then an arm slipped round her waist.
‘Leave us, ladies. I’ll take it from here.’
Lia did not really want her steps guided by Nine-Fingers, but refusing - and then, Gods-forbid, bumping into something - would probably give her too much pleasure. She accepted the offer with as much grace as she could muster.
‘How come you’re so impressed by Devella? She’s only a Gauntlet.’ Lia muttered, once propped against something - a desk?. She still felt a little chafed that she wasn’t even the first Fist Nine-Fingers had seen fit to pick up.
‘If she was any bloody brighter, they wouldn’t let her in the Fist at all. She’s lucky to have risen that high.’
A thought occurred to Lia. ‘Heard from Tav that you had something going on with Jaheira.’
‘Tav got her tongue out from your brother’s throat long enough to tell you that?’
‘Don’t bring my family into this.’
‘Don’t bring Jaheira into this,’ Nine-Fingers snarled.
Now that seemed like useful information. Lia could almost get over the grimy reminder that more than just her life was at stake here.
‘I see,’ she muttered tightly. ‘Forget I said it then.’
Her enemy’s tone cooled from a hiss to a tightly-controlled simmer. ‘I’ve got nothing against your brother. This city could do with an archmage who wasn’t born into the ruling bloody class. But I won’t have you pry into my personal life.’
‘Oh for the Gods’ sakes,’ Lia snapped. ‘You’re bloody obsessed with your own stupid version of righteousness. Those explosives you’re trying to smuggle are going to kill people! Farlin told me the plan -’
Bloody Hells. She stops, swallowing her source’s name. She’d blown her own, small lead on the Guild just because she couldn’t resist coming to Nine-Fingers’ office, and worse, she didn’t even care. It felt sodding satisfying, to hear Nine-Fingers pause even briefly.
‘Congratulations,’ she said, and Lia knew she meant it. She sounded impressed. ‘Done your research, girl, I’ll give you that. Got in good with my people. I’ll have to fire her. But I’m hardly the only one here obsessed with my own righteousness. I suppose you joined the Fist to be a hero.’
‘I just believe in helping people. Stupid idea in your book, obviously.’
‘I’d love to believe you, but you are wearing a Fist uniform. Those twats don’t have a great reputation in Baldur’s Gate. Though I suppose you couldn’t have known that.’
Lia opened her mouth to tell her where to fucking go with her patronising, more-streetwise-than-thou attitude, but Nine-Fingers jumped in before she could.
‘Oh for the Gods’ sakes girl, do you want that drink with me or not? You knew who I was before you set foot in this room. If it helps, I’ll promise you that those explosives aren’t going up the arses of anyone who doesn’t deserve them.’
‘Oh, fuck you,’ Lia muttered. ‘Fine.’
‘Good,’ Nine-Fingers murmured. She reached around and grasped the ties around Lia’s wrists, giving them a tug. ‘I think we need to get these tied in front of you, and then you can properly enjoy the Guild’s hospitality. Ladies!'
Having her hands re-tied involved being manhandled by what felt like at least three people. Clearly, Nine-Fingers was taking no chances. But once Lia’s hands were bound in front of her ribs, someone pressed a cool, heavy tankard into them, and she felt a brief sense of ease; as if she was in a regular tavern and not an arch-criminal’s lair.
She took a sip, as best she could, the ale stickily refreshing on her tongue.
‘Are you drinking?’ she asked Nine-Fingers. The door slammed; presumably her departing henchwomen.
‘Too early in the day for that,’ came the answer. ‘I’ve got work to do later.'
‘Fine by me,’ Lia shrugged, and drank some more. If Nine-Fingers wanted to kill or intoxicate her, she could easily have done that, and she wasn’t about to worry about the effects of a bit of ale. She could handle her drink.
‘So, what brings you to my tavern,’ Nine-Fingers murmured. ‘Came prepared for a knife fight?’ She pulled at the lacing on Lia’s padded waistcoat. Lia had, in fact, worn it for that exact purpose, forgoing the rest of her Flaming Fist armour in an attempt to go undetected.
‘That’s a bit unfriendly for a date,’ Nine-Fingers pointed out. How about I undo these for you?’
‘Go on then,’ Lia replied, taking another awkward draft of her ale with her bound hands. The metal bumped against her lip, the tankard’s height impossible to judge beneath her blindfold.
‘Watch out,’ Nine-Fingers murmured.
‘You’re the one insisting I wear this blindfold,’ Lia said.
‘Mmmm.’
Her fingers worked the laces quickly, pulling the waistcoast open enough to free Lia’s breasts until they were contained only by the thin linen of her undershirt.
‘Nice fabric,’ Nine-Fingers said, fingers skating ever-so-lightly over her nipple. ‘Think we smuggled a bunch of this. Taxes have been so high lately… but I’m sure your favourite dressmaker wouldn’t have bought any of it.’
‘Stop trying to make me like you,’ Lia groaned.
‘Oh, I think you do like me,’ Nine-Fingers chuckled, cupping her breast.
‘I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it. Oh for the Gods’ sakes!’
She’d felt Nine-Fingers leaning in as if to kiss her, pulling away before their lips touched taking the caressing hand with it.
‘Something wrong?’
‘This is a stupid game,’ Lia said. ‘If you want to bloody kiss me, then stop messing around and -‘
‘Bit demanding, aren’t you girl. I’m old enough to be your mother.’ Nine-Fingers stroked along her chin. Her fingers were cool, a little calloused. ‘If I had a daughter like you, I’d be very disappointed that she’d grown up to join the Fist.’
The hand withdrew. Lia groaned, feeling its absence, wishing she could see Nine-Fingers’ expression - but she must still be close, because there have been no footsteps.
‘Well,’ she snapped, swallowing down her nerves with the last of her ale. ‘What would you do about it?’
The tankard was plucked from her hands.
‘I think a firm spanking might put her right.’
Lia’s breath was loud in her ears. Nine-Fingers - wanted to - Hells -
She thrust her bound hands down to yank at her own trouser buttons, but faster, steelier fingers pulled them away, finishing the job themselves.
‘I bet you’ll have fond memories of this, won’t you girl.’ Nine-Fingers’ voice was right beside her ear. ‘Bare-arsed over the Guild leader’s desk. What was it you called me? The biggest criminal in Baldur’s Gate?’
The darkness was driving her insane. Lia half-wanted to spit in Nine-Fingers face, but she wanted to kiss her more. So much more.
‘Well, go on then. Any more hesitation and I might think you’re not -’
‘No!’
She had meant yes - at any rate - the haste with which she offered herself up over the desk, tail raised, could leave Nine-Fingers in no doubt as to what she meant -
Fingers trailed up the back of her exposed thigh, before tugging her shirt up properly. A breeze kissed Lia’s bare skin. Exposed. Could she see how slick she was? Was she looking at her cunt?
‘Well, it’s not quite trousers around your ankles, but I have seen the Flaming Fist look more dignified. On occasion.’
‘Enough about my bloody job!’ Lia groaned, and then whimpered as the path of Nine-Finger’s worked inwards, tantalisingly close to her folds. Her breasts pressed against the desk, bound wrists crushed beneath her ribs.
‘I make the rules in this city, Fist. And you’ll learn to abide by them eventually.’
‘Whatever you’re going to do - get on with it!’
‘Impatient, aren’t you. Perhaps I’ll give you a few more spanks for that. But I won’t touch your pretty cunt until you’ve apologised to me. I don’t like having to tie up a lovely girl like you in my cells.’
‘Oh, go to the Hells - ahhhhhh!’
At the first slap, Lia’s cunt felt like it was going to spill over. Zurgan - Nine-Fingers was - slap - strong -
Her arse stung, and they were only four strokes in. But she wasn’t about to give up in front of Nine-Fingers. She wasn’t about to give up on taking down the Guild either - fuck -
The fifth slap was even harsher; Lia writhed blindly against the desk, knocking over something that crashed with a tinkle of glass.
‘Making a mess of my office?’ the older woman taunted her. Once more, her fingers slipped between Lia’s thighs, teasing upwards - so close. ‘And here, too.’
Her fingers lingered for a second, playing on the silk slipping from her folds, and Lia thought she heard something like a hum of pleasure escape her lips. A thrill jolted through her. Was Nine-Fingers smiling a little now? She could almost imagine it, thrusting her hips back unconsciously, hoping that those fingers might press a little further -
‘How many times do I have to tell you, girl? Behave.’
The order was delivered with three hard smacks that echoed through the room, making Lia whimper.
‘Yes,’ she gasped.
‘Yes?’ Nine-Fingers murmured, a hint of amusement in her voice. ‘That’s a start. I wonder if a few more blows might loosen up that sorry I’m waiting for.’
‘Try - me,’ Lia groaned. Heat spread over both her cheeks, and she yearned for a soft touch from her adversary’s hand - but she wanted a sharp one more. ‘I dare you.’
‘O-ho, you’ve got spirit girl. Perhaps I should try something harder.’
Zurgan. Papers rustled beneath Lia as she turned to see what Nine-Fingers was offering - but of course, there was nothing but darkness. Bloody blindfold.
Nine-Fingers’ voice warmed a little.
‘Here, girl.’ She slipped what felt like a wooden ruler between Lia’s fingers, stroking her hair. ‘What do you think?’
What did she think?
‘I’ll try - one - first -’
‘Certainly. First rule of Guild business. Always check the shipment before you sign off on it.’
Lia growled. How did Nine-Fingers twist everything she said? So… irresistibly?
‘Lift your tail, Fist. I’m going to make it hurt.’
‘Like Hells - ’ The first sting stopped the scoffing words in Lia’s throat dead. ‘Fuck!’
‘Should I go back to my hand? I think we can squeeze a little more discipline out of you yet.’
‘No,’ Lia gasped. ‘I can handle it.’
‘You know what to say. If you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll give you your reward. It’s a fair deal.’
‘I told you earlier. Try me.’
Nine-Fingers laughed, a short, warning sound, and then the first blow landed.
‘Fuck!’
Another. Lia’s toes curled. Another. Hells. Every vicious slap landed before the pain of the last had gone, and though none of them broke the skin, every time the pain felt deeper, burned hotter, shot out faster from the ruler’s kiss through her tender, stinging skin.
A swoop of air told her the ruler was being raised once more, and suddenly the word forced itself to her tongue, her arse screaming that it was at its limit -
‘Sorry!’ she barked. ‘I’m sorry - sorry -’
Something clattered to the floor. She opened her eyes, from where they’d been unknowingly screwed tight behind the blindfold, and gasped. Fingers invaded her hair, and for a moment she tensed - but their touch was gentle.
‘Good girl,’ Nine-Fingers said softly. ‘Good girl.’
With a deep breath, Lia softened, let herself slump onto the desk, cheek against paper. A strain pulled down the back of her legs, buckling her knees.
The soft pressure in her hair was gone - but Nine-Fingers’ body still pressed close. Lia groaned a little.
‘Desperate, aren’t you,’ Nine-Fingers murmured.
Actually, she’d groaned at the sudden, resurgent memory that she was bent over her enemy’s desk, soaked at her “punishment”, but whatever Nine-Fingers wanted, at this moment, Lia wanted her to believe. And - oh Gods - as her fingers circled Lia’s dripping wet cunt, she had to admit to herself that the desperation was there too.
‘Fuck!’
Nine-Fingers pushed in gently, stroking her with long, light touches, easily slipping up to the knuckle and then pulling out entirely.
‘Just like picking a lock,’ Nine-Fingers said. ‘You feel out the shape of it first, and then -’
‘Ah!’ Lia gasped. Was that - three fingers? Her tail trembled, wrapping instinctively around Nine-Fingers’ arm; she moved it aside, with an indulgent laugh, and thrust those three fingers deeper.
Her clit throbbed, jealous for attention of its own, and she squirmed uselessly against the desk. Heat radiated from inside; Nine-Fingers pressing into her, working her, so assured, so unhurried, Lia thought she’d bite her bottom lip bloody with need. Even the words to ask for more seemed so impossibly far away, her toes curling and arse smarting, every thigh clench only making her clit needier.
‘You’ve got very patient all of a sudden,’ Nine-Fingers observed, running a tender, calloused hand over Lia’s hot arse.
‘Not - really -’
‘Oh? Well, if you’re tempted to misbehave. Just think about that spanking. You wouldn’t want to earn another.’
‘We could - ahhh - save it for another day - ’ Lia offered, dragging back a little ground even as Nine-Fingers’ probing touch took her to pieces.
The fingers withdrew.
‘Don’t joke about that. I don’t want to have to kill you, but if you keep sniffing around here, I can’t make any promises.’
Lia scowled. She might not be able to see the line of Nine-Finger’s displeased lips, but the severity of her words was unmistakable. As if she’d give up, though. The Guild-master must know that.
‘Fine. Enjoy the last bloody time you’ll ever touch my cunt then.’
A hiss ran through Nine-Finger’s teeth, and her fingers thrust suddenly, roughly back inside Lia.
‘Oh, I will.’
The bitterness in Nine-Finger’s voice incensed Lia. She snarled, once again aware of how much she hated this woman, hated her unshakeable assurance that all her criminal schemes were somehow bloody justified, because she only had people killed and beaten up when it was mostly necessary. Because some of the patriars were corrupt, so why should anyone else be better? Why shouldn’t everyone be dragged - fucking - down to the bottom with the rest of them? Rage seared inside her, stoked with every rough, punishing thrust of Nine-Fingers’ fingers.
‘Oh fuck!’ Lia gasped, as they slammed in again.
‘Yes girl -’
‘Stop bloody calling me that and - make - me - fucking - come -‘
‘Give me one good fucking reason to -’
‘Fuck off - no!’ Lia bit her tongue, but it was too late; she’d whined when the fingers pulled out, and they didn’t return until she gasped, ‘Please!’
‘That’s a good reason,’ Nine-Fingers purred, and the smirk in her voice was audible. Fuck. Lia wanted to shout at her, at the very least smash something - maybe over her head - but more than anything she wanted to come on her enemy’s fingers so hard she broke them. ‘Now you’re all nice and worked up -’
Her wet fingers slipped around her thigh, more taking their place in her cunt. Those wet fingers - Gods - they were dextrous - circling in agonisingly slow, even circles, taunting her just as the others curled deep inside her cunt, pressing against her inner spot until she felt unbearably good - unbearably full - so close to the edge but she thought she could never come at this pace, never except for -
‘Now! Fuck, Nine-Fingers!’
It was a stupid name to sob, but she sobbed it anyway, shouting blue murder as the release coursed through her. Wave after bloody wave, until at the moment her muscles went limp all she could think about was just how wretchedly satisfied Nine-Fingers would be.
A rich, self-congratulatory hum fell from the Guild-master’s lips, confirming Lia’s suspicions. She struggled upright, yanking the laces of her waistcoat closed over her shirt, and fought valiantly for enough breath back to rasp -
‘Now my turn. I’m going to make you bloody scream.’
Nine-Fingers chuckled. ‘Afraid not, girl. Time for your little Guild visit to come to an end. But I promise I’ll touch myself about this later.’
‘What, afraid that I might bite you or something?’ she taunted, in what she hoped was Nine-Fingers’ direction.
‘Enough.’ Nine-Fingers pulled her close, turning her until her lips were against Lia’s ear. ‘This was the only time. I never want to see you again. Otherwise, I will have to kill you, and I’d hate to do that to someone who screamed so nicely for me.’
‘Oh, piss off,’ hissed Lia, and then she smelt the distinctive musk of a sleeping potion, and said it again for good measure. ‘Oh, piss off, Nine-Fingers - I’ll…get you…one day…‘
Lia awoke some time later, in a flowerbed behind Sorcerous Sundries, covered in dirt and with a smarting arse, but dressed and little the worse for wear. Bloody Hells, the sun - after several hours blindfolded, the sun felt far too aggressive - and thank the Gods, she thought, that Rolan hadn’t found her like this; he’d never have let her live it down. What had she been thinking? She had to leave Nine-Fingers alone, for her own dignity more than anything. And besides, that morning’s tip about the firework crates had been her last lead. She hadn’t seen anything after being captured at the dock, and she had nothing more to go on now. No hope of finding Nine-Fingers again, even if she wanted to.
Or so she thought. Back in her room, she stripped her grubby waistcoat, noting the rope burns on her wrist, and turned to get new clothes out of her wardrobe -
- only to notice something very strange in the mirror. What in the Hells was on her shirt?
Lia peered closer. It was writing, hidden just where her waistcoat had been closed over her shirt.
Grizzly’s Warehouse, dawn Mirtul 6.
She must have blotted some of Nine-Fingers’ writing when she was bent over her desk. And in that case -
‘This isn’t bloody over, Nine-Fingers,’ Lia crowed. She was going to make her come next time. Maybe even kiss her.