“Go get yourselves cleaned up.”
They’d dragged Conan back to the city, entered the temple courtyard. The guard captain indicated the ramp that led under the temple walls. Conan saw his men frown. Not men who bothered much about water and such. Preferred their hands dipped in the reward they’d been offered. For handing Conan in.
The captain added. “After … in the kitchens .. plenty to go around.”
He smirked knowingly.
“Many of the kitchen girls are .. well …. well-versed in being …… accommodating …..”
Conan’s men hadn’t needed a second invitation. Nor given him a second glance. They’d disappeared down the ramp. Not one single motherfucker had looked back at him. Slave-girls eagerly awaiting these brave brigand-men.
Conan was left behind. Tied to a stake. Arms pinned to a ring above his head. His men would get cleaned up. They’d fuck themselves out of their heads. And he’d stay bound to this post. Awaiting whatever these temple guards did with a killer with a price on his head. Such was the price of being leader.
Conan had planned it to turn out like this. Seemingly a gang-leader turned in by his men. Things were going to plan. Though he fancied he’d still finish up paying the extra price .. get himself worked over a bit.
And for that very reason he’d already decided. Once he had the gem in his hands, he’d fuck-off. Disappear. Let those morons carry the cost for a change. All along .. HIS risks .. HIS plan .. HIS arse on the line. When he’d got that diamond in his clutches .. those cretins thought they deserved their share? Let them feel the heat when that precious god was missing his cock. See what it feels like …..
HIS balls were in the firing line. HE was getting done-over by temple guards. HE got lion’s share ….. in fact, the lot. Went without saying ……
Suddenly the guards around him sprang to attention. The leader of the guards gave a salute. Curious Conan’s eyes flowed his gaze. Above them, on a balcony, a muscular man accepted the salute. Dressed in their usual gear .. sleeveless top .. proud broad chest pressed against the leather cropped tunic .. defined muscle in his upper arm peaked back the salute.
More importantly .. from behind a vision appeared .. a figure clothed entirely in white. The high priestess? Was she Conan’s target? Knowingly he pumped up the solid plates of muscle in his chest. Chin up. Instinctively his belly sucked in.. giving his target a tempting view of manly strength. What she could come to expect.
The head was cloaked in a white sheer veil. But Conan had no doubt he was being observed. Few women needed to give him a second glance. They were caught as soon as they flew into the web of his manly strength. Entrapped by his physique. And the tempting thoughts at what that promised.