The cobblestones are barely five feet behind us when Tisha stops in the middle of the street and turns to face me.
“See anyone you want to fuck?”
I scan the morning crowd flowing past the inn. Cat ears and fox tails. A woman with horns examines fruit at a nearby stall. Another with dog ears haggles over leather goods. Every single one of them catches my attention for one reason or another.
“Tisha, I don’t think I see anyone I don’t want to fuck.”
Her grin widens immediately.
“I figured you’d say that.” She pauses, her chest expanding as she draws in a massive breath. “Let’s try a new approach today!”
The scream erupting from her throat makes me jump.
“HUMAN STUD! PROVEN COMPANION! ONE SILVER!”
Every head within fifty feet turns toward us. The market noise dims as people stop their conversations to stare.
“ALL YOU CAN FUCK FOR ONE HOUR! JUST ONE SILVER! THIS SALE WILL NOT LAST LONG!” Tisha’s voice carries across the entire street, bouncing off buildings. “COME AND GET IT WHILE IT’S HOT, LADIES!”
I throw my arm up and wave at everyone staring at us. No point in being subtle about it now.
“You raised the price,” I say, turning to look at Tisha.
Her grin doesn’t falter. “Let’s see if it plays out.”
A figure emerges from the crowd, and my attention locks onto her immediately. Black armor, polished to a mirror shine. The breastplate has a cut so deep that her breasts are nearly spilling out, ghostly white skin contrasting sharply against the dark metal. It’s an odd design choice, but I’m not about to complain.
Then I see the rest of her.
My heart stops.
There’s no head.
Just a collar of black armor where her neck should be, and rising from the center is a small teal flame.
“What the…”
My brain catches up a second later. The body is carrying a head in the crook of her arm, held against her hip like a helmet. Teal eyes study me from that detached head, framed by black hair that falls in waves around pale features.
“Oh.” Tisha’s voice drops beside me, concern bleeding through. “Is this one a no?”
I can’t stop staring at the flame. It flickers where the neck should connect, dancing with an ethereal quality that pulls my attention like a magnet. The head’s eyes study me in return, and I realize the flame matches her irises perfectly.
My initial fear burns away, replaced by fascination. Then arousal.
“No, no.” The words tumble out quickly. “I’m into it now.”
Tisha leans in close, her breath warm against my ear. “She’s a Dullahan.”
The head speaks, and the sound comes from the mouth even though it’s separated from the body. The voice is smooth, businesslike.
“Only one silver for an hour with this human stud?”
“Yes!” Tisha’s enthusiasm returns full force.
The Dullahan’s body shifts, and the arm holding her head lifts it higher. The head rotates slowly, those teal eyes sweeping over me from multiple angles. She walks around to view me from behind, then brings it back to face forward. The inspection is thorough, clinical, and I stand there letting her examine me like livestock at market.
The flame flickers brighter for a moment.
“He’s very clean,” the head observes. The body’s free hand reaches out, and armored fingers brush along my jaw, tilting my face up slightly. “Good bone structure. Pleasant features.”
“He’s also very enthusiastic,” Tisha adds, her voice taking on a sales pitch quality.
The Dullahan’s head tilts in her arm.
“Is there an opening right now?”
“Yes!” Tisha’s answer comes without hesitation.
The armored hand releases my jaw and moves to the belt at the body’s waist. Fingers work the pouch open, withdrawing a handful of copper coins. The head speaks while the body counts them out in her palm.
“Half now and half after.”
Tisha’s expression shifts immediately. The friendly sales pitch vanishes, replaced by sharp refusal.
“Absolutely not.”
The Dullahan’s body goes still. The flame at her neck flickers darker, and the head’s features twist into a scowl.
“How do I know I’m not being tricked?”
I lift my arm and point toward the inn behind us. “The room we’re going to is right in there.”
The head’s eyes follow my gesture. They track from my finger to the inn, then back to my face. The scowl softens slightly, consideration replacing suspicion.
“Oh...” The word comes out slower, thoughtful. The flame brightens again. “I will pay outside the door to the room then.”
Tisha’s shoulders relax. “Yeah... that’s fine.”
The Dullahan’s body tucks the copper coins back into her pouch and withdraws a silver coin instead. The metal catches the morning light as she holds it ready in her palm.
“Lead the way.”
Tisha gestures toward the inn with a sweeping motion. “Right this way, ma’am.”
We start walking back toward the entrance. The Dullahan follows close behind, her armored boots clicking against the cobblestones with each step. I can feel her eyes on my back, that detached head still cradled in her arm, tracking me as we move.
The inn door swings open as Tisha pushes through first. I follow, and the Dullahan’s armor clinks softly as she enters behind me. The common room is mostly empty at this hour, just a few patrons nursing morning drinks at scattered tables.
Tisha leads us up the stairs. Each step creaks under our combined weight, and I’m hyper-aware of the armored woman behind me. The flame at her neck casts a faint teal glow on the walls as we climb.
We reach our floor, and Tisha moves to the door of the spare room. Her hand finds the handle, pushing it open to reveal the simple space inside. Bed, window, small table. Nothing fancy, but clean.
“Here we are.” Tisha turns to face the Dullahan, her hand extended palm-up expectantly.
The armored fingers drop the silver coin into Tisha’s waiting palm. The metal makes a soft clink as it lands.
“One hour,” Tisha confirms, pocketing the coin quickly. Her green eyes find mine. “Have fun, Vincent.”
I nod.
Tisha steps back into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her with a soft click that echoes louder than it should in my ears.
The Dullahan and I stand facing each other in the silence that follows. The teal flame at her neck flickers steadily, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
She extends her arm toward me, the one cradling her head.
“Hold this.”
Her voice comes from the detached head’s mouth, matter-of-fact and businesslike. I reach out with both hands, accepting the weight of her head carefully. It’s heavier than I expected, warm and solid in my grip. The black hair spills over my forearms in silky waves.
The teal eyes stare up at me from my hands, unblinking.
Her body moves immediately, fingers finding the clasps of her breastplate. The armor comes away piece by piece with practiced efficiency. Pauldrons first, then the breastplate itself. Each piece of black metal gets set on the table with deliberate care. Her torso is revealed inch by inch, that ghostly white skin almost luminescent in the morning light filtering through the window.
“What is your name, whore?” The question hits me while I’m still taking in the sight of her removing her gauntlets. The clinical tone makes the word feel less like an insult and more like a job title.
“Vincent.”
Her head tilts slightly in my hands, those teal eyes studying my face with renewed interest.
“Hmmm. What kind of name is that?”
I shift my grip on her head, trying to find a more comfortable way to hold it. “Uhhh... well, I’m American, but it’s probably derived from Latin or French or something.”
“American?” The word sounds foreign in her mouth, like she’s tasting an unfamiliar flavor.
“You’ve probably never heard of it.”
Her body continues stripping, the greaves coming off next. She’s down to fitted undergarments now, thin fabric that does little to hide the curves underneath.
“That’s enough pleasantries.”
The head’s mouth presses into a firm line, and the flame at her neck burns brighter. Her body hooks fingers into the waistband of her undergarments and slides them down her hips.
The fabric falls to her feet. Like every woman I’ve seen naked in this world, she’s absolutely stunning. The pattern of her skin is flawless, that ghostly white tone covering every inch of her body. Her breasts are full, and the curve of her hips draws my eyes downward before I can stop myself.
Her body steps out of the undergarments and moves toward me with deliberate purpose. Her hands reach out, taking her head from my grip with careful precision. The weight lifts from my palms, and she carries it to the table, setting it down facing the bed.
Those teal eyes keep watch from the table as her headless body returns to me.
Her fingers find the hem of my tunic. She pulls it upward, and I lift my arms automatically, letting her strip the fabric over my head. The cool air hits my chest, and then her hands are on me.
She starts at my shoulders, her palms sliding down over my arms. The touch is exploratory, methodical. Her fingers trace the lines of my muscles, testing the firmness, cataloging details. She moves to my chest, her hands spreading wide as they travel across my pecs and down to my stomach.
My cock hardens under her scrutiny. I can’t help it. The clinical nature of her examination somehow makes it more intense, like I’m being appraised for worth.
Her hands reach my waistband. She hooks her fingers into my trousers, stripping them and my undergarments down to my ankles. I step free of them.
Now I’m completely exposed to her.
Her hand wraps around my cock immediately. The grip is firm, confident, and she strokes once from base to tip with deliberate slowness. My breath catches in my throat.
“You respond well,” the head observes from the table. Her voice carries approval mixed with clinical interest. “That’s good.”
Her other hand cups my balls, weighing them with the same careful assessment the Dullahan gave my face earlier. Her fingers explore thoroughly, sending a rush of blood straight to my groin.
Her body moves toward the bed. She lowers herself onto the mattress, settling onto her back. Her arms spread wide on either side of her, palms up, fingers slightly curled. The posture is unmistakable. An invitation.
I stare at the headless body laid out before me, arms outstretched in welcome, completely caught off balance by the sight.
“What’s your name, by the way?” I ask, realizing she didn’t mention it earlier.
“My name is Calla.”
“Calla.” I repeat the name, testing how it feels in my mouth. “That’s a nice name.”
I step toward the bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. The sight of Calla’s headless body sprawled across the mattress, arms spread in invitation, sends a pulse of electricity straight down my spine.
Before I can lower myself onto the bed, her hands shoot forward and grab my arms. The strength catches me off guard as she pulls me down on top of her with surprising force. My chest collides with hers, and the warmth of her skin against mine makes my breath catch.
Her hand wraps around my cock immediately, and I gasp at the contact. She strokes once, twice, then guides me toward her entrance. But instead of letting me push inside, she drags the head of my cock along her folds with deliberate slowness.
I’m already rock hard, and the slick friction makes my hips jerk forward involuntarily. She’s soaked. The realization sends a sharp jolt of arousal through me that leaves my arms trembling where they’re braced on either side of her.
“Don’t struggle.” The voice comes from the head on the table, clinical and commanding. “Just accept me fully.”
Her legs wrap around my waist before I can react. The motion is quick and decisive, pulling me inward until the friction steals the air from my lungs.
The heat hits me first. Then the tightness. She takes all of me, her body yielding to my length despite the sudden intrusion. A raw groan escapes my lips as I sink completely inside her.
The teal flame at her neck blazes. Her internal muscles clench around me, pulsing in rhythmic waves that leave my vision blurred at the edges.
“Move,” the head commands from the table.
My hips start moving on their own, pulling back and thrusting forward with increasing urgency. Her legs tighten around my waist, keeping me locked against her, and the sounds of our bodies meeting fill the small room.
Her hands slide up my back.
I push into her with everything I have, driving forward with desperate need. Each thrust sends sharp jolts through my body, but part of me aches for a face to look at. The absence of her head makes the connection feel incomplete, like I’m missing half the experience.
A voice breathes directly into my ear. “You’re better than I thought you’d be.”
The shock hits me like ice water. A shout leaps to my lips in pure surprise, but her hand clamps over my mouth instantly. My yell muffles against her palm as my eyes swing wildly to the side.
Calla’s head floats beside me, suspended in the air with no visible support. Her eyes fix on my face from inches away, amusement dancing in them as I stare.
Her hand releases my mouth slowly.
“Kiss me,” she says.
Her floating head hovers there, lips parted expectantly, while her body beneath me continues moving in rhythm with my thrusts.
Her mouth is right there. And I’m too far gone to refuse.
I lean forward, closing the distance between us. My lips meet hers. Her tongue pushes past my lips, exploring with the same methodical thoroughness her hands showed earlier.
Her body arches beneath me, pressing her breasts against my chest. The dual sensation of kissing her detached head while feeling her body respond makes my rhythm falter.
“Don’t stop moving,” she murmurs against my lips.
I resume my thrusts, trying to focus on the rhythm while kissing a floating head. Her tongue slides against mine, and her body beneath me responds with increasing urgency. The tightness around my cock intensifies, her internal muscles fluttering in a way that feels different from before.
Her head pulls back from the kiss. A high-pitched scream breaks from her throat, the sound so loud and desperate it makes my ears ring. Her eyes cross, rolling back slightly as her mouth falls open wider. The teal flame at her neck blazes so bright it casts the entire room in an ethereal glow.
“Hold me!” The words come out broken, desperate. “Vincent, hold me!”
Her head drops. The floating magic fails completely, and I barely get my hands up in time to catch it. The weight settles into my palms as her body convulses beneath me. Successive contractions squeeze around my cock with a force that makes my vision swim.
Her eyes are squeezed shut in my grip, her mouth open in a silent scream, tears streaming down her cheeks from the intensity.
The body keeps moving. She pulls me deeper, her hips bucking upward to meet my thrusts even as she’s lost in the throes of her climax.
Her body goes limp beneath me after a few more moments. The convulsions slow, then stop completely, leaving her sprawled across the mattress with her legs still loosely wrapped around my waist.
“Taste...”
The word comes from her mouth, breathy and desperate. I look down at her head in my hands, thoroughly confused.
“What?”
“I want to taste myself.” Her teal eyes open, fixing on mine with sudden intensity. “I want to taste my juices on you.”
I’m still buried inside her, still rock hard, and now she wants this.
I pull out slowly. My cock slides free, glistening with her wetness.
“Fuck my face, Vincent.” Her voice drops lower, commanding.
A thrill courses through me at the directness of it. “Are you sure?”
“Fuck my mouth as hard as you can right now!”
The command in her tone makes my cock throb. “Okay.”
I lower her head toward my length. Her lips part immediately, her tongue extending to reach for me before I’m even close. The eagerness in the gesture sends a spike of desire through me that makes my hands tremble.
I guide my cock toward her waiting mouth, pressing the head against her lips. She opens wider, and I push inside slowly. The wet heat of her mouth envelops me, her tongue sliding along the underside as I enter.
“Come on! Treat my head like you treated my body!”
The words vibrate against my cock, and the dam inside me breaks.
I start thrusting into her mouth with the same urgency I had when I was inside her body. Her head is light in my hands, easy to control, and I use the grip to move her exactly how I want. Each thrust pushes deeper, the sensation completely overwhelming.
She gags on my length, a choked sound scraping from her throat, but her eyes stay locked on mine with clear desire. Having her head separated makes this absurdly easy. I can angle her however I need, push as deep as I want, and the control sends a rush of adrenaline through my veins.
Movement behind me makes my rhythm falter.
Calla’s headless body sits up, her arms wrapping around me from behind. The weight of her breasts presses against my back, warm and soft, drawing a muffled groan from me, my cock still buried deep in her throat.
Her hands slide across my chest, fingers splaying wide as she holds me. The embrace is intimate in a way that makes my heart hammer harder, and I feel her legs shift on the bed behind me, repositioning for balance.
I keep thrusting into her mouth, the dual sensation of her body against my back and her throat around my cock pushing me closer to the edge with each movement. Her tongue works along the underside, and I feel her swallow around me every time I push deep.
The pressure builds at the base of my spine, demanding release.
“Calla,” I gasp, pulling back slightly so I can speak. “I’m gonna cum.”
Her throat convulses around me immediately, a muffled choke vibrating against my cock.
“Inside my mouth.”
The permission breaks what little control I have left. I thrust deep one final time, and my orgasm hits with devastating force.
I start cumming hard down her throat, pulse after desperate pulse flooding into her hungry mouth. The sounds escaping me are raw and uncontrolled, echoing off the walls as release pours out of me.
Her body’s arms tighten around me from behind, holding me steady as I empty myself completely. Her throat works, swallowing everything I give her, prolonging my climax until I’m convinced there’s nothing left inside me.
Finally, the waves subside. My legs tremble beneath me, barely holding my weight, and I slowly pull out of her mouth. A thin strand of saliva connects my cock to her lips before breaking.
Her teal eyes study me from her head in my hands, satisfaction clear in their depths despite the tears streaming down her cheeks from the intensity.
“That was adequate,” she says, her voice hoarse.
I nearly drop her head in surprise. “Adequate?”
Her expression shifts from satisfaction to confusion as she registers my reaction.
“I paid for an hour, Vincent.” Her voice carries that same businesslike quality. “You’ve already given me your seed. We’re finished.”
The dismissal in her tone grates against me. My hands are still holding her head, taking in the smug expectation in her eyes. She thinks I’m spent. That I’m done.
My gaze drops to her body still pressed against my back, arms wrapped around me. Those pale breasts are right there, sending fresh warmth rushing through my veins despite having just finished.
I set her head down carefully on the bed and turn to face her body. My hands reach out, cupping both breasts with firm purpose. The weight of them fills my palms perfectly, and I feel her nipples harden against my skin.
My cock stirs immediately, responding to the touch. Blood rushes back, and I’m hardening again with startling speed.
“Calla.” I keep my voice steady, authoritative in a way I rarely manage. “We’re far from done.”
A sharp gasp comes from the head on the bed behind me. I glance back to see her teal eyes widen, genuine surprise flooding across her features. The flame at her neck flickers brighter, burning with renewed intensity.
“Perhaps I underestimated you.”