Gwent Play – Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – “Public Triss”

Crowdy streets of Novigrad – Break of day

Seeing the stacks prepared for evening burning Geralt wondered how are humans so different from Scoia'tael who have the reputation of ruthless butchers. He heard the stories of honey treatment commandos especially liked. They would grease a wretch’s face with gooey layers of honey and put one’s head in the special kind of anthill. Rumors say the pain was so intense even the toughest soldiers would give up any information after just a couple of minutes. Although during his stay at Brokilon, Geralt heard about some exceptionally loyal, Nilfgardian officer, who stood his ground for almost 4 hours before breaking. Even elves were impressed, a rarely occurring achievement for humans, not that it saved him from having his throat cut.

Geralt shook his head to get out of from his reflections, it was better to be focused, entering a place like this, even the rays of today’s beautiful sun were not reaching this sorry area. He couldn’t comprehend how Triss was managing to move around here, not to mention living. But after seeing the former advisor of King Foltest catching rats and working for a guy like the King of Beggars Geralt promised himself not to wonder anymore.

Reaching the address, he knocked twice and, upon no response, entered the building.

“Does it look like some whorehouse?! Get out!” An elder woman yelled at Geralt.

“Pardon me, the door was open, I’m here to see Triss.”

“Her?! I told her, no men! This is a decent house!”  The woman kept yelling furiously.

“Calm down, I’m a friend, just tell me which way.”

“Take the stairs, the second floor,” said a man sitting in an armchair in the corner of the house, exhaling a large amount of smoke from his pipe.

Geralt nodded and took the stairs, losing the complaints of the lady only after reaching the first floor.

~~~~~~~~

“Geralt!” Triss shouted cheerfully, hugging him effusively, pressing on his chest with her large breasts.

“Hello Triss,” Geralt responded, smiling.

“I wasn’t sure if you would come after yesterday.”

“Kidding me? I would never miss a chance to see you.”

“And what a sight it is, right?” Triss said, showing around the place with her hand. “Triss Merigold, rat exterminator, underworld figure, with her headquarters in slums.”

“Yet beatiful as always,” Geralt said, going over her body from head to toe, stopping his eyes in a few favorite places for a bit more.

Triss spotted this and blushed, but didn’t say anything.

“So what was that you wanted to talk about?”

“Well... I need to ask you a favor Geralt, a quite big one actually...” She said seriously.

“What did you get into this time?” Geralt asked, crossing his arms.

“I-I'm a leader of underground mage’s movement, we’re planning on fleeing the city, and we’re not leaving anyone.”

Geralt blinked twice in diseblief.

“You? Leading people?”

“I know, right?” Triss snorted. “And honestly I’m starting to believe that I bit off more than one can chew. Nothing is working out, we lack funds, intel, and somebody to protect this bunch of wobbly wimps.”

“So you’re looking for somebody to lend you money, steal top-secret plans of the church of the eternal fire, or fight god-knows what army hunting you?”

“All... preferably,“ she answered, trying to keep the face straight as the scale of the project hit her in the face.

“It’s suicide Triss, and I’m not going to take part in it. You don’t owe them a thing, escape the city alone, quietly.”

“I’m done doing things quietly, don’t you understand?!” She exploded suddenly.

“Sorry... it’s just... so hard... I have no idea how Philippa could enjoy running the whole country...” Triss added after a moment, falling on a chair and relaxing her tensed muscles.

“Please Geralt... I really can’t do it without you...” Merigold groaned, changing the tactic.

“I’m sorry Triss... I can’t make that wish come true. I won’t risk our lives for a group of self-concerned narcissists that would abandon you at first sight of danger,” Geralt said firmly.

“Ahhh...” Triss sighed, slowly getting convinced the Witcher is a lost cause, just when...

“Come on Geralt, I would do anything for your help. What if we play for the wish then? Let’s say... Gwent? You always liked the game.”

“We? Play Gwent? Come on, give it some thought. Besides, what wish could I possibly-” Geralt stopped, seeing as Triss is smiling playfully, running her index finger down between her big globes.

“A wish is a wish, and you can wish whatever you want, I’m sure you will figure something out, of course, if you win,” Triss said innocently, but the truth is, she has been playing Gwent for the past few months while hiding in the Putrid Grove. And Bedlam’s thugs were more than eager to teach and practice with the beautiful sorceress. She now considered herself a seasoned player, as well as the owner of a pretty unique deck.

“So?” She asked after a while, seeing Geralt considering the offer.

“I’m afraid you’re trying to bite more than you can chew again, but since it’s your idea...” Geralt said, amused and excited, sitting down behind a wooden table.

Triss optimistically stood up and sit by the opposite place, taking out her deck of Northern Realms deck and openly picking her cards, showing off the unusually unique wizard cards. Perhaps the mobsters never paid much attention to her cards, being busy staring at her cleavage, but not Geralt. And if not for that overconfidence in her undefeated playstyle, she could have actually beaten the White Wolf.

~~~~~~

Triss slid down in the chair when she realized the defeat, her enchanters and their damage meant nothing against Geralt’s heavy Mahakam regiments with plenty of armor. Even her excellent playstyle awareness and experience didn’t help her to win. She was outplayed before the game even started. ‘Just how many decks and cards does he have?’ Triss thought, realizing she underestimated the Witcher and his Gwent abilities.

Meanwhile, the Witcher smiled widely, and looked at her hungrily, devouring her with his eyes.

“W-what do y-you wish?” She asked, knowing perfectly this look, feeling suddenly familiar tightness in her chest, and a tingling sensation rising in between her legs.

“I wish...” Geralt started, looking at the golden-turquoise dress hanging on the wall behind Triss, along with an orange-turquoise mask of a fox.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“G-Geralt... are y-you sure?” Triss stressed after changing into the clothes the Witcher picked for her.

Geralt turned around and looked, and what a view it was. The gorgeous redhead sorceress was now standing in the middle of the room in high black hills. The scarlet piece of material that could be barely included as strings was entwining her huge, bubbly bum; and a breast band of the same color, which to Geralt was honestly just a strap of material, was wrapping around Triss’s chest. The finishing touch was the fox mask he ordered her to wear.

“You look just as slutty as I you should,” Geralt said, standing up and slapping her ass chick.

“Ouch!”

“There is just one more thing missing,” The Witcher said pleased with the result, and took out a leather collar with a metal leash he apparently has been using for some contracts, and with a quick move he fasten it around her neck.

“What the fuck Geralt!?” Triss gasped, surprised.

“It’s just like you said, you’re done doing things quietly. We’re going for a walk,” Geralt smiled demonically and pulled her leash with the metallic sound of chains.

~~~~~~

The first sign of the new impression Triss was creating was the housewife that didn’t shout a word, instead, she was staring silently with her mouth open as Geralt was tugging her through to the doors.

“Have a nice day,” he said smudgy and left with his companion.

“G-Geralt, hunters will recognize me,” Triss worried as they left the house.

“Nonsense, all they will see is your tits and butt, but you need to act like a proper whore, so start walking like one,” Geralt smiled, looking back at her.

At first, she was embarrassed, as beggars and thugs were drilling her with their eyes when she was walking through the muddy square, hearing admiration whistles and grunts. Keeping close behind her guide, she walked, feeling eyes all around her body, from every corner and alley of the place.

But when they entered the upper town district with cobbled roads... She heard a tumult of the streets, she saw merchants trying to sell their goods, she felt the sun on her face, and her mood completely switched. Triss felt alive again, socially alive. She forgot about all the tension and all the obligations she put on her shoulders lately. All she felt was the excitement of being dragged throughout the city for an unknown purpose, dressed like a dark-alley prostitute to be fucked by a guard on his night shift. Soon, Triss gained the confidence of her look and started to walk provocatively, shaking her ass, and smiling playfully to passers-by, even the drooling witch hunters.

However, when they entered the marketplace, a female voice call out might be heard from between the stalls, “WHORE!”, followed by a soft splash Triss felt right beyond her butt.

Geralt immediately turned around, ready to locate the aggressor, same as two guards who have been staring at the object of the assault. Meanwhile, Triss twisted her body, sticking out her ass even more, and upon examination, she shook off the slightly overripe tomato, much to the delight of onlookers.

“FUCK YOU, IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOUR HUSBAND PREFERS TO LOOK AT THIS THAN TOUCH YOU!” She shouted into the place from which the attack supposedly came, and sent the middle finger.

The people around chortled. Even Geralt smiled, seeing how surprisingly well his former lover got into the role. And as the bulge in his pants started to grow at this sight, he tugged her gently, like a dog on a walk when it's clearly having fun, but you need to go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lively music, giggles, and bustling conversations surrounded them the moment they entered Passiflora.

“W-why are we here Geralt?” Triss started to concern when some fat merchant waved to smiling disgustingly.

“Shut up and come,” Geralt responded shortly, being busy with looking for somebody in the room.

As they reached the bar, he tied Triss’s leash to some mahogany pole and told her to wait here for a moment as he disappeared behind a door. And so Merigold was now left alone among horny clients and tempting prostitutes, dressed more sparingly than any of them. Maybe with the exception of the ones serving some guests under the tables, or jumping on the ones eating grapes and resting on luxurious sofas. All of those stimuli attacking her started to affect Triss, forcing her to clench her legs to stop the itching sensation.

“I haven’t seen you here before, and I fucked every whore in this place, I’m Jadon Whitford. That Whitford,” said the fat man from before, coming closer than enough for a casual conversation, and he smelled like garlic, tons of garlic. “What’s your name?” He asked, checking her body from many angles like she was some kind of commodity.

“S-Suzzie,” Triss spoke, saying the first name that came to her mind. “But I-”

“I’m afraid this lady is not for sale,” Geralt finished, appearing from nowhere next to the guy.

“Of course she is, every bitch in this brothel is for sale, and for me, the price is not a deal breaker. Besides, look at this fucking slut, I can tell she’s already wet, I bet she has not been fucked properly for some time. And I will make good use of those fucking tits,” he said still staring at Merigold, probably taking Geralt for some servant, and reaching for Triss’s protruding nipple with his fingers.

It was a split of a second, but just as he was to grab it, his three fingers got caught in iron grasp by Geralt’s hand and squeezed so hard the merchant squealed and changed the color of his face like a gecko.

“It’s my good day, so I will give you a chance, the next words leaving your mouth will be ‘I’m sorry, miss. Have a nice day, miss.’ Don’t waste it.”

“I’M NOT APOLOGIZING TO NO WHO-”

*CRACK*

“AAAAAAAAGGHHHH!” The merchant screamed so loud the whole party stopped, and fell on his knees, clasping two of his broken fingers.

“My, my, was it really necessary White Wolf?” An elder lady came a moment too late to stop the tragedy. “You two, take him to the other wing,” she said to two muscles that just run from the doorway with their hands on their swords.

“Okay, okay, nothing happened people, little misunderstanding. Music! Play!” She turned to the center of the room, and momentarily everybody went back to their previous activities as if nothing unusual happened.

“Come, the room you ordered is waiting for you, and don’t forget to give my regards to Vesemir. I might not be operative anymore, but he could come by for a glass of wine,” the woman smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~

Geralt threw her mask down the moment the door closed behind them, the room was one of the best Passiflora had in the offer; placed on a second floor, with king size bed covered with silk pillows and layers of sheets. Not that Geralt gave Triss a lot of time to admire the pomp of the interior.

Before the mask hit the ground, the Witcher pinned her down by her throat to one of the poles of the bed, while his free hand slid down to her bum, squeezing and releasing it for change, causing the chick to jiggle happily.

Shortly, Triss started to gasp for air, and Geralt released the grip, deciding to turn up the heat of the events. With each of his hands, he grabbed both her breastband and the strings and ripped them off her with one, simultaneous move. The only part of her wardrobe left were the black hills, and the collar she hoped to lose soon as well.

She gasped once more, this time in the sign of the pleasure from some rough treatment she craved so much at this point. Triss always preferred to play bold in bed, and she knew the White Wolf wouldn’t stand for much longer without showing his animalistic half.

And so Geralt finally linked their lips, in a long, deep kiss, before starting to devour her mouth and neck with loud clucks, lustful licks of his sandpaper-like tongue, and powerful sucks. At the same time, his hands were traveling all over her body, squeezing, pinching, and slapping all of the attributes of her wasp waist.

Triss released a loud moan across the room when her lover’s two fingers reached her hot, needy entrance. He started to slowly explore the area, paying special attention to her clitoris and moving his hand along her folds, before sinking it inside of her. Breathing heavily, she uncontrollably twitched when Geralt rubbed the sensitive spot of her front wall.

“GOD I NEEDED THIS! AUGHH! DON’T STOP, PLEASE, RIGHT THERE!” She kept screaming and moving her hips on her own when Geralt added a third finger and started fingering her with sloppy noises her cunt was making.

Feeling her juices squirting all over the place, and flowing down her inner thighs, each time he backed his hand; he increased the tempo to the limits, just to reach her limit. It didn't take much time for her mind to go blank, unable to perceive anything but the pleasure of the strong man's actions.

Triss howled with a high-pitch voice at the top of her lungs, making probably half of the brothel jealous, when she reached her climax, releasing a geyser of fluids straight on the floor. Feeling her legs weakening, Geralt wipe his soaking hand on her breasts like she was a towel, before pushing her onto the bed. Sorceress fell like an inert fuck doll, relishing the remains of the orgasm spinning between her legs and on her back.

By the time she found enough strength to get up, Geralt was already naked, with his majestic cock standing at attention.

‘Just when did he lose his clothes?’ Triss thought, lazily getting up, but Geralt was in no mood for sluggishness. He grabbed her red hair and firmly pulled down on the floor, taking a seat on the edge of the bed himself.

“Show me what the new whore of Passiflora can do,” Geralt growled, like a command to an actual prostitute he paid.

Triss crawled the distance between them and looking him in the eyes spat on his dick. A line of saliva run down across many of the veins pulsating on it. Before the river had the chance to reach his nuts, Triss spread it across the shaft and the tip with both of her hands. Soon after, the hands gave way to the mouth, which surrounded the top of it with its warm, eager insides.

Triss was now bobbing her head on his dick, trying to get Geralt’s cock as deep as she could, challenging, and fighting against herself, all on her own. There were many types of blowjobs, many techniques, and even varieties of those; but nothing could be compared to the one-person assault Triss was performing.

*SLURP SLURP SLURP*

With each second the pleasure was rising inside of him, up to the moment he was swimming in the ocean of ecstasy where nothing else mattered, except that one feeling, one emotion, one woman. Unable to hold it anymore, Geralt groaned and bit his lip so hard he felt the metallic flavor of blood.

Seeing the reaction of her partner she pulled his dick out of her mouth and spoke.

“Eyes on me, sir,” she said, smiling, and went back to blowing him with such aggressiveness and vigorousness the previous head seemed like innocent foreplay. Triss was now deepthroating him all the way down, with every meaning of the word. Gagging and spitting, with the sloppy stuff dripping down from her chin on his nuts, she took him from heaven to a completely new orbit of kick. Even the famous Witcher couldn’t withstand such a sexual wraith.

Much to her surprise, he remained conscious enough to stand up and shout a short sentence before exploding.

“ON YOUR TITS!” Geralt yelled, and Triss leaned back, exposing her chest. Shot after shot, her breasts got sprayed with, what seemed to her, buckets of cum. With him shaking off the last drops of the nut, Triss looked down at the mess. Her breasts were glowing with the coating, much of which was now streaming down on her stomach, legs, and floor. The view satisfied her enough to reward her good customer with dick cleaning.

She rose her head, expecting a half-softening dessert, but found still a hard-rock main meal, ready to be served again. Shocked, she directed her eyesight even higher, just to see the panting animal.

Geralt without a word, and with terrifying speed picked her up with and firm grip, and lead to what seemed to be a two-winged balcony door which he opened with a kick. Both the sun and the noises of the street, to which the balcony was directed, attacked her senses as she got used to the cozy darkness of the insight.

Meanwhile, the Witcher pushed her onto the wooden railing, which she barely managed to grab due to the damn hills, saving her from falling over it.

“CAREFUL THERE, I COULD’VE-”

She tried to protest but interrupted herself with her own scream when Geralt grabbed her shoulder and leash, sliding his cock inside of her. With his dick still coated nicely with her juices, he had no problems getting it inside of her with one smooth motion.

“You- did it- Triss- you’re- no longer- doing- things- QUIETLY!” He gasped with each of his throws, starting with a high-tempo, proper pounding from the very beginning.

“Much- better- than- rescuing- some- crybabies-, isn’t?!”

“UGHH! AAAFFFGH! YES! YEEES! UGH! MUCH BETTER!” Triss screamed, realizing she was now facing the busy streets of the distinctive part of the city she used to spend days around, with her torso completely covered with semen, and being tame-fucked barbarically, without any disguise. She, Triss Merigold, one of the most wanted “witches” of the North.

Both these perverted thoughts and the pleasure she was drawing from them, and the fact she was being mercilessly hammered by Geralt’s fat dick made her reach her second, even stronger climax very unexpectedly.

“GERALT! I- I'M CUMING!” She moaned so loud the echo probably bounced a few times on the streets.

Feeling her pussy tightening around him, he sped his moves up, chasing his own limit, and devoted himself fully to the pleasure, soon reaching the orgasm as well. With a noticeable hiss, he released just a slightly smaller amount of cum, this time marking the territory of her cunt.

Exhausted, Geralt released the grips, and pushed her gently forward, collapsing with her on the railing, with his member still resting inside of her, occasionally throbbing, like after-death contractions of a corpse.

“By the way, have you heard anything about a girl of ashen-gray hair being in the city?” Geralt asked after a moment of looking at the city view, taking back the control over his breath.