piercing

January 1, 2011



Being that this is my first story, I guess I should explain a little about my character. You remember back in high school the girl that scared you because she smoked, wore black and was too smart for her peers? That’s me. Tattoos, piercings, leather jacket, tore jeans. I was never afraid of anything. In fact, most of the things the population at large is afraid of, or calls taboo, is just that much more appealing to me. Not because I revel in deviance, but because most deviant things are more intellectual than the mainstream. If you know a younger me, we’re not bad kids, just frustrated and needing society to grow into something it never will become: worth while.



So, that’s me. A brief introduction.



Since this is a first story, on January first, two thousand eleven, I’m thinking I’ll stick with firsts.



I was nineteen years old. I had been with this guy Jay for a little more than a year. We had gotten into a fight about something that didn’t matter, as young couples tend to do, and my therapy for these situations is a woman named Lynn.



She’s a piercer a the tattoo parlor I hang out at all the time. She’s everything I wanted to be when I was sixteen. Had the awesome job, the reputation, the charisma… let’s not forget she is totally fuckin’ hot.



Five foot eight, long black hair that hangs just above her hips, white bangs, gauged ears, everything pierced that could be, the whitest complexion, tits that respected no bras limitations, the perfect hour glass figure, legs that went on forever, until forever got caught in the lases of her combat boots. She has it all. She’s smart too, hence always going to her for consolation.



But back on track. This day was a little cliche. It was raining. as I sat there on the leather love seat, we shot this shit, complained about men, their egos, their inconsistencies, their penises, the usual. It got to be about six and it was dead. “Hey, babe,” she smirked to me. “I have an idea about how to kill the time.”



“What did you have in mind?”



“A round of ‘hundred needles,’” and she smiled devilishly. For those that don’t know, she was referring to a box of play piercing needles. They come one hundred to a box, hence, a ’round of hundred needles.’ They are usually used for photoshoots or shows, you can Google it, I have faith in you. ;)



“lol,” I’m that nerdy, I spell it out loud rather than just laugh, “Ok, get the stuff set up. I’m game.”



“Ok, don’t run away on me,” and she strutted herself back to her room. I had never done this before. We had talked about it, but it just never came up. Oh boredom, the inventions you birth unto us.



Just a couple minutes later she returned, “ready?”



With anxious excitement I nodded, “mhmm.”



Back in her room, it was all laid out. Not that there was much to lay out. Camera on tripod, needles on a sterile surface, ready to go.



“You trust me, right?” She interrogated.



“What do you mean?”



“Yes or no; do you trust me?”



“umm… yess,” I drew out.



“Good,” again with her devilish smile as I undressed down to my bra and thong. As I stepped over to her modified exam table she halted me mid stride, “nope, take those off too.”



I must have blushed because she had never seen me naked before. Luckily, a girl is always prepared… whichh just means I always shave before leaving the house.



With a stupid look on my face I unclasped my top and slid the bottom off and climbed up to the table. It was in the upright position so I wasn’t laying down. I was positioned perfectly in front of the camera. The room was cold and the sheet beneath me did nothing to save me from the twenty degree vinyl.



Lynn walked behind the table, and as I heard her moving things behind me, “put your hands together and raise them over your head,” she ordered from seemingly no where. I smiled for the camera some little sexy smile and brought my hands up. I felt nylon rope lace between my wrists and she pulled it taught before tying it off to something I couldn’t see. “Good girl,” my would be mistress praised.



By now, the barbells in my nipples were freezing, and my nipples stood erect, begging for warmth.



A couple steps later, she was tying her hair back, gloving up, and reaching for the first needle.



“Ready baby?” she consoled. With a smile I rolled my eyes and nodded. “Good, close your eyes for a moment,” and I did.



She gently started to trace lines up my left thigh, going slower as she moved up my limb. Over the soft skin of my stomach – hurting as much as it tickles. Slowly she glided up between my breasts, mapping out my collar bones, then on to my neck, where she pressed just a little harder and moved a little slower. Up near my ear, then forward over my face, just staying above the cheek the whole time. Then through the end of my eye brow, in one sweet, quick, seamless motion.



I gasped and suppressed a brief moan when it went through. I felt it with my whole body.



“Hmmmm,” she hummed in satisfaction.



The next one came in quicker succession. The other eye brow, the skin where the neck meet the under-jaw, the outside of each lip, through each ear lobe, one by one making waves of endorphins and pleasure torrent through my body.



My eyes were still closed. I hadn’t even thought to open them.



Her fingers worked loops down my middle, and she slid one more through the bottom of my belly button. “Savour this,” she whispered in my ear. Just then I realized my bodies shakes, its trembles and the thrust of my hips to no where. I was so turned on it hurt. After a few short breaths, her touch on my breasts sent a shiver through me. First it was light – just her gloved finger tips dancing from the outside of my breast until my erect nipples were so hard they wanted to bleed for attention.



Then it was all taken away. I laughed nervous laughter as I could hardly stand it much longer. Then, like the mercy of a fictional God, she groped as much of each breast in each of her hands as she could fit… I have more than a handful to say the least. Kneading and rubbing my breasts with her full attention, it drove me mad yearning for her touch and affection in other places. “There you go… I needed to put some warmth on your tits. Your nipples were too hard to make this work.” I felt myself stop and almost open my eyes, but I restrained myself immediately… this was more fun in the dark.



My right nipple was being pinched and rolled between her fingers, then stillness. I waited for it, inhaling deeply, hold it, then exhaling slowly as she started a vertical penetration behind my horizontal barbell. She did it slow, or at least slow enough that it felt like eternity. I didn’t inhale again until the needle came through the other side. I was panting and high on this moment.



Then there was the familiar pinching of my left nipple, which was now so sensitive it was like electricity to touch me. Motionless, then the cold fourteen gauge rod began its way through my pink flesh. I was so turned on at this point, I could smell it. I must have been wet, really wet. I didn’t know if I should be proud or embarrassed, but I didn’t care about those emotions right then, just feeling.



Ten needles down, ninety to go.



Next would be the left arm. She started toward the elbow, following down my tricep, piercing the most sensitive part of the skin as she could. God, it hurt so good. Then the right arm. Ten in each arm, stopping just about the breasts. Then under each breast she wove fifteen more needles, following their curve and shape, going down my sides. Forty more.



I heard her pull over a chair and sit in front of me. With a firm hand on each knee, she thrusted them apart. Massaging and worshiping my thighs, working her way closer from the knee with every rub and caress. She knew how wet I was. She could see the effect of the cold air on my glossy lips, the swelling of my clit – it was all there, for her.



On each thigh she started half way up. One needle on the left, one needle on the right, alternating sides. Each jolt of pain, each piece of steel was a step toward the pleasure I had wanted so badly. When the needles were as close as they could get to my pussy lips, it stopped.



I couldn’t take it anymore, I needed her touch, I needed her. “Babe, open your eyes,” in an angels voice, “I want you to watch.”



Delirious and breath taken I opened my eyes to see the tapers and needles that adorned my body. It was a sight to see. There she stood in front of me with the excited, anxious smile I had at the beginning of this. “Good, now that I have your attention…”



She took her gloves off and tossed them in the waste. She turned her back to me and pulled her t-shirt off over her head with both arms, discarding it to the floor as her long hair collapsed on her back. She unsnapped her bra from the front, and as she opened it, I could see the outline of her perfect tits from behind. She undid her belt and dropped her cammo skirt around her boots. All that was left was a little thong, whichh she showed off by grabbing the counter and arching her back before she slipped that off too.



Her turning around to me was a sight to behold. Her pierced nipples, her pierced hood, the perfectly maintained landing strip, the way she was playing with her tongues bar bell with that gleam in her eye that just promised sex.



Back in her chair, she leaned in and smelt how wet I was for her. From between my thighs she looked up with satisfaction on her face. She pulled in closer. Close enough for her to extend her breast to my soaking pussy.



The warmth of her nipple was insane. She teased my lips, tapped my clit and gradually started working a littler harder. With her breast in bother her hands, she maneuvered it so force her piercing inside me – I promise you, an easy feat. She would use her barbell to rub my clit and lips, up and down my slit. Slipping in and out, and around my clit. With determination she moved and I moved against her, loving every second of her breast on my pussy. Feeling her hard nipple and steel move between my lips, and hit my clit just right, I couldn’t hold on anymore. Not that I was trying. Moaning and struggling for air, tied down and pierced up, I came all over her breast.



She kept it moving, helping me back down from my experience, but still keeping me excited.



“What a good girl,” came to my ears. Looking down at her, she held the same breast to her mouth and started to lick it clean. “God, you taste amazing,” and I smiled like the dumb-struck girl that I was.



She leaned in and started kissing my swollen lips, just barely placing her mouth on my clit… it was so hot I could have been fire. Her tongue explored me with eager movements, finding its way inside me, licking in long, slow strokes keeping her barbell pressed against me. All very slow, but building up speed.



She put two fingers inside me, pressing in all the right ways as I let out a moan. For a moment she left her hand stationary, allowing me to fuck her fingers with my grinding hips, her licking slow and dedicated all the while. She let me build up speed and she met my speed every time. Licking a little harder, clinching her fingers as they ride my g spot. My breathing got heavier, my moans deeper, feeling her inside me, feeling her tongue on me, feeling the hundred needles in my skin, the endorphins, all of it, rushing to one point of excitement between my thighs – ‘inhale deep, and exhale,’ I remembered her voice from some memory, and as I did, I came again, all over her mouth and hand.



She stayed with me, kissing me, bringing me back to reality one second at a time, one kiss on my clit at a time.



I opened my eyes again… nothing felt better than that.



She stood up and put her other fingers in her pussy. She was wet too. She put her taste in my mouth and I loved it. “You’ll have your turn later,” she promised with real satisfaction on her face. She put her clothes back on, gloved up, pulled the needles out and untied me. With a kiss on the lips she left the room, leaving me to reclaim myself.



That was the first time I was with a girl, but definitely not the last.



Eve

Author’s Notes: This story is erotic fantasy written by Etaski. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except Literotica.com with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. © Etaski 2012



******



This story continues my first short introduction to characters in “Full Bloom in Winter”. It is not required to have read the first to enjoy this story, but it always adds to the overall depth. :)



Please be warned the main characters are “Lawful Evil” for a reason–mostly in that they do not believe they are doing evil. ;)



Enjoy.



******




“Will it hurt?”



“A little, perhaps. I’ll try to make it quick.”



“Liar. …what if I don’t want you to?”



“Why are you smiling like that, Lady Rousse?”



“Because you are lying. I can tell.”



“You’re growing fangs again.”



“Am I? Hm.”



“I would hazard your Lord Father wishes you to keep your alter form intact while you’re here. For your protection, my Lady.”



“You’re no fun, my dear merchant, do you know that? You have closed the door and have drawn the window curtains, not even my escort can see or hear much.”



There was a pause in the conversation and a sound like a whip lashing in the air, preparing to strike in full.



He cleared his throat. “Your form is…you have that….um….that—”



“It’s a tail, Master Creed. You’ve seen it before, don’t you remember? It was coiled around your throat, as I recall, strong as a constrictor….”



“Please….don’t remind me.”



“I’ll lean back then. You can get on with our business. Do you need me to spread wider?”



“No, that…is enough, Lady Rousse.”



“You have a steady hand, I’m sure. You won’t pierce my nub, right? Only the hood.”



“Of course, Lady.”



“How can you be sure if you can’t see it?”



“I’m sorry, my Lady? I don’t understand.”



“Maybe if you could see it, you would be sure to avoid it with your needle. I want your piercing, Master Creed, I love your work. I want your magic. And the thought of your fashioning that ring just for me, and here we are preparing at last to attach it…makes me tingle inside. But you need to rub the area a little first, don’t you?”



“Well, I do need to clean the area a bit…”



“Good. That’s good. Oo, a delicate touch, Master Creed. Feels nice. But my nub is still hiding…I’m concerned you’ll tag it trying to get my hood….”



“I’m a professional, Lady Rousse.”



“And you want to protect that reputation at all costs, right, Master Creed? Surely you wouldn’t want to distress me, so I would tell all my friends about your crass procedure. Wouldn’t it be so much better to be solidly, absolutely *sure*?”



“……”



“Just a taste, Master Creed. It is a…*reasonable* request, isn’t it?”



“….I…..”



“*Very* reasonable.”



“Of….course it is, Lady Rousse. Very reasonable.”



“Good. Then suck me. That’s it. Good. Oh….ah….yeah! Go on. Keep going. A little more….Yes. Yes….Oh, such a tongue, Master Creed! Does your wife realize it? Does she reap such benefits? Lucky, lucky woman…Oh….more….if you stop I’ll choke your very breath from you—ah! Ouch. Careful. Did that scare you, Master Creed? Come, now, my favorite tradesman, you still have a job to do. My nub’s not hiding anymore. Look at her. She’s quite delighted to see you! Now…my ring?”



“L-Lady—”



“Don’t shake, Master Creed. Don’t miss. You don’t want to miss. Take a deep breath. That’s good. Good….good…..”



“……h-hold still…….”



“Aaaeeeiiii! OH! Yes!”



Gasping.



“Lady?”



Deep breathing.



“Lady, are you alright…?”



“Oh, Master Creed …that was wonderful. Just let me touch it….my, it’s perfect. Shining gold….I love it.”



“Lady, you…are already healed?”



“And ready to use it. Kiss me….”



“Ow!! Your fangs!”



“You’ve got me so excited, Master Creed.”



“No, not the tail again—”



“I won’t kill you.”



“Lady!”



“Double the price for your work, then. I have to be sure the ring works before I leave.”



“I….I…”



“Double the gold, merchant. Double the gold.”



“Yes, my Lady….”



*****



A lovely young woman left Master Creed’s “Decorative Delights” in high spirits that night. She was human by all appearances, honey-brown hair elegantly coiled and leaf-green eyes twinkling from beneath a warm winter cowl. Her good quality dress, her manners and her grace, and even her white, straight teeth plainly showed a noble-born Lady in the city of Winter Home.



A young blonde man armed with a sword stayed close beside her, clearly a manservant in his simpler dress and his deference to her, walking one half-pace behind her.



After a short time, however, she slowed and took his arm. She giggled, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts. The young man kept watch over the cobbled streets, noting the carriages, groups of workers and couriers, and the many warm lanterns glowing in the glass windows. They were in North Ward, a better part of the city too expensive for most residents of Winter Home to be able to afford, but it didn’t mean there could not still be a threat to his Lady.



“I heard voices, my Mistress,” he said softly. “I thought I’d secured the place before he began?”



“It was only his wife. She suffered only a few moments of confusion before taking my suggestion.”



“Suggestion, Mistress?”



“That she lift her skirts and join us, that she enjoy her husband’s talented tongue since it was free. I was only using his lower half, after all.”



The blonde man’s face flushed a little at the imagery. “The ring works, I take it?”



Her green eyes rolled briefly heavenward, her tongue flicking her bottom lip. “Ohhh, yes, I’d say so. She did not resist long. Her husband took more persuasion prior to the piercing. It is telling of the enhancement and I could feel the warmth and the magic.”



Her companion was quiet for a few steps as the chilled winter’s day wind blew against their backs, nudging their cloaks forward ahead of their boots.



“Are you jealous, Tamton?” she asked, a tiny smirk on her sex-reddened lips.



“No, Mistress,” he answered readily. “You do as you please; I am here to serve you.”



“What were you thinking about, then?”



Tamton licked his lips briefly. “That I was aroused by your description, Mistress. His wife was comely but…rigid. Proper. If your magic worked on her so well, she must have appeared much… different.”



“Squatting over her husband’s face with her skirts bunched up to her waist, with her hair loose down her back, you mean?” Lady Indra teased, her smile showing just that hint of pointed fang as she looked up at him again. “She was rubbing a glistening and decidedly hairy snatch over his nose and mouth.”



Tamton flushed deeper and could not contain a smile as he nodded. “Yes, Mistress. Exactly like that.”



Indra laughed in delight, causing two men in dark long coats to glance back over their shoulder as they passed.



“You draw too much attention, Mistress,” Tamton murmured, keeping the men in his peripheral vision until he saw them enter a high-end tavern.



“I am following the rules.”



“Aye. Your Lord Father knows well about following the rules, my Mistress.”



Indra sighed and rolled her eyes toward the grey sky once again, this time in annoyance. “True to the letter of the law or the spirit of it, but we always follow it. We aren’t like the demon-touched, who can’t manage plotting to lay their dung in the same place twice.”



“Of course, Mistress,” Tamton said with a bit of a laugh. “I’ve witnessed the power of your heritage, and they say your Lord Father has been around for a long time. As such, he is wise in the protection he places around you. Other enemies are not so addle-brained as an Abyssal imp.”



Indra was silent and the smile left her pretty human face for a few moments. Tamton was probably the only servant with which she conversed this way. He had been the first human man—indeed the first real lover—that she had taken during the overwhelming lust of her First Ardeur, when she’d finally come into her adult magic.



She knew the taller man remembered being bound to her desire while under her Father’s watchful eye, and he remembered mounting her quite roughly, first in her hungry sex and then impaling her backside until she was reamed raw. He had been much more selfish in the way he rode her body than he could have done at any other time and expect to continue breathing, much less to continue serving House Rousse. He never mentioned it and, from what she had seen scanning his surface thoughts, he never reminisced about it—not unless she ordered him to and then it made him uncomfortable.



He was loyal and content with his role as her bodyguard and companion. Wherever she went, he would go as well.



For anyone else, she would have considered a creative punishment for even suggesting that she was taking her Father’s advice too lightly. Tamton, however, could sometimes be forgiven of such things.



The diabolic elf still gave him a sardonic grin through her illusion. “If he wanted me not to draw any attention at all, my altered form would be that of a mousey, shorn-haired dumpling tending a hearth.”



She drew her elegantly-gloved hand out to the side, parting her cloak and showing him a glimpse of the entrancing curves beneath her relatively thin, pale blue gown—curves that were not so altered from her true self.



Tamton’s soft brown eyes admired her, as she wanted him to admire her, and he nodded, swallowing against a dry mouth. “I do believe he wants you to…practice your control, my Mistress. And you have my help, should you ever need it.”



She smiled at him then looked ahead, up, and around, her cheeks blushing becomingly in the cold. She arched an eyebrow. “When did Talabrina gain a foothold in North Ward?”



Tamton looked to where she indicated, having to search for several moments before seeing a tiny, wooden carving that might’ve been a symbol of the Light Goddess hanging in the low corner of a top window of a two-story townhouse. That she had seen it at all was a wonder to him.



He shrugged. “Plainly not a church. A gathering place or just a misguided trader?”



“I believe will find out,” she said casually, though her eyes narrowed.



They went to knock on the front door.



*****



Tamton saw the ease with which his Mistress entered the stranger’s house, appearing the well-bred, generous Lady curious to learn more about the symbol of Talabrina. The normal, unassuming man in regular breeches, sweater, and house coat was a courteous host but admitted to nothing, indeed, seemed genuinely confused as to her questions. From that the blonde could see and hear, his Mistress had no reason to suspect him of anything.



Lady Indra, however, had inherited several of her Father’s mental talents, and Tamton knew that she’d seen something in the other man’s mind that made her stay and smile up at the taller man the way she did.



She smiled like a devil scenting the brimstone pen.



“I’ve never seen you before, young lady, or recognize your supposed reference,” the man said, smoothing his plain clothes nervously. “I thank you for drawing my attention to the oddity in my window, but I think perhaps that you should leave. Even if I could tell you more about it, I believe you are misrepresenting yourself; you are not here to find solace in Talabrina’s light.”



An odd choice of words.



“There is very little light in Winter Home, Priest,” Indra replied, smiling sweetly as she traced two fingers slowly along the smooth ribbon of her bodice.



The man’s mouth tightened at the title, but he did not deny it as he was distracted, his blue eyes flicking to the Lady’s hands.



“I wonder that you try here at all,” Indra continued. “They are all lost souls, given over to the Dominion or to Siqueness Herself. Solace can still be found, however…”



The knot at the top had been undone and as she breathed, the criss-crossing thread across her torso loosened and slowly unraveled, showing more of her breasts and the space between them. The Priest could not keep his eyes on her face for long, his middle-aged face flushing deeply.



Tamton wondered that the man still did not deny being ordained. Something she had gleaned from his thoughts, no doubt.



As she breathed harder, staring at him intently, he said hoarsely, “No soul is truly lost, my child. It is always worth trying.”



“If only to know your weaknesses, true, and you are very weak here. I’m sure you’ll come to know them well.” Delicate fingers ran along the edge of her bodice, caressing paler, smooth skin and tugging down gently to reveal more of her breasts, to tease at the possible reveal of a flush nipple.



“You’re staring, Priest. Do you want a taste?”



He forced his eyes up, trembling as sweat started to show on his forehead, and he pursed his thin lips again before wheezing unconvincingly, “I pity you, child.”



Indra chuckled low in her throat, tugging off her gloves and loosening to let her cloak drop from her shoulders to the floor. Tamton felt his sex growing turgid at the sensuous sound of her voice and the shush of her clothing.



Though he couldn’t see them, he could almost imagine her wings stretch themselves after being curled beneath the cloak; her aura was becoming stronger even as her stance grew more threatening. He was a few paces away watching the door and listening for anyone in the back, but he could feel it like waves of warm, sweet water. It must be drowning the Priest…



Indra in her human form drew more of her bodice open, pulling it just off her shoulders and slowly revealing her naked, pink-tipped breasts.



“Have a taste. Just one. You were a babe once; pretend you are young again and suckling your mother’s teat.”



Her voice was soothing and cooed at him constantly until, at last, Tamton watched the salt-and-pepper head dip down, hesitantly at first, but soon enough Indra moaned as his mouth attached to her left nipple and started to suck. Slowly the taller man he sank to his knees, beefy hands going to her waist to hold himself upright as he feasted on her flesh.



“Yes, Priest,” she gasped, “yes….”



Tamton moved through the room to draw a few of the drapes which had been open; they did not need anyone spying so easily, particularly if Indra’s illusion faded at some point in her seduction. He was doing his best to stay on watch with a near-painful erection, but he knew when his Mistresses reached up to undo two oddly-placed buttons just above each of her shoulder blades that she was releasing those entrancing wings that he could not yet see.



Her light blue dress began to slide down and the man tugged at it himself after his Mistress freed her hands from the sleeves. It hung at her waist, where her belt held it for her, revealing no appropriate underclothes at all. No chemise, no shift, no corset. The Priest moaned and started kissing her flat, naked belly, inhaling her scent.



“N-no…” he groaned, gritting his teeth and whispering the name of his goddess as if for strength.



Indra only laughed.



The Priest was well and truly captured when he made the first aggressive act against his Mistress, gripping her arms and forcing her to turn around, pushing her toward a well-crafted mirror hung above a sturdy parlor table.



“Look! Look at yourself!” the Priest demanded, and they both looked at the young woman in the mirror, her entire torso exposed and her nipples hard, red, and wet from his saliva.



“Have you no shame, no modesty? Who taught you to act this way, to open your dress for a perfect stranger? You have more worth than to act like a whore!”



Tamton did not intervene yet though he did draw his blade in case he needed it. Violence only fed the strength of her aura, he knew from personal experience, as the prey’s own strong emotion was used against him. He could see the Priests’s own erection straining against his trousers and brushing his Mistress’s backside.



Indra chuckled softly, smiling sweetly once again over her shoulder. She was of smaller stature than the man, but whatever he saw in her eyes had him rigid with fear for a moment before she turned around and threw her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him, pressing her breasts into him. After a moment of resistance, the mortal fell back into touching her, answering her kiss as if he could never be satisfied.



The Priest pulled up her skirt, showing her bare legs a moment before clutching and squeezing at her thighs and buttocks beneath the material, in spite of his moans of horror and agonized desire.



“No petticoat?” he growled accusingly, “no smallclothes, whore?”



Indra shook her head with a laugh and grabbed his left hand, putting it between her legs. “Just hot, slick flesh, Priest. The reason Men even wish to continue living.”



“Oh, Goddess, help me,” he whimpered, his head lowered, as he kept his hand immersed in the warmth between her thighs—even as she loosened his trousers, pulling them down his hips and leaving them bunched around his thighs as she played happily with his erection.



Next Indra laid herself back against the parlor table, skirts up and pale thighs open and leading to a bright, reddened sex, cleanly shaven and smooth. He saw her brand-new piercing glinting with gold right above her pleasure nub as he removed his wet fingers. The Priest shook his head in confusion, breathing raggedly as his eyes widened, staring at her.



“But you are no child…”



“If you had ever visited a true whore, Priest, you’d know that not all of them keep the hair they grow. And no compliment for my jewelry? A fine gentleman you are.” She laughed sadistically. “Taste me. You’ll find it’s much more pleasant to kiss being so smooth.”



It took a bit more persuading, but Tamton watched his Mistress finally achieve her goal: the man’s head bent down as if in prayer as he inhaled her scent. He wavered before lightly licking at the hood ring, jostling it and making her squeak in delight. Then finally, the Priest’s mouth, once murmuring prayers of self-denial, indulged fully in sucking at the Fey’ri’s naked netherlips, thrusting his tongue full into her tempting hole and playing with the metal piercing by turns.



“Oh, yes, Priest, yes!” she cried, ecstatic.



Her magic flared within the room and Tamton saw her true form start to emerge; the pale, human skin darkened to a true, hot red, and her most sensitive skin—her mouth, nipples, and the lips the Priest now kissed—all turned a darker shade of purple. Claws and fangs grew out, sharp and threatening, and her prehensile tail uncoiled from beneath her, swishing side-to-side excitedly. Her hair turned the color of merlot wine as her eyes filled in entirely with shining yellow, and her very face changed as her eyes became larger and slanted, her ears grew pointed, and her purple, leathery wings stretched full out to the sides, the right one brushing the wall.



Tamton could feel the heat radiating from her; she rarely felt the deep cold of Winter Home when she was indulging herself and feeding her magic.



“Mount me, Priest,” she commanded, her voice smooth and charismatic, the irresistible purr of a very playful angel promising a good time. “I am aching as badly as you, I need you.”



With one last kiss to her sex, he rose up and unsteady legs, bracing his weight on his hands by using the table’s surface by Indra’s hips. He wobbled a little, poking his member at her with little coordination, and she snickered at his confused state before guiding him herself, reaching between them to wedge the soft mushroom head at her pulsing entrance.



“Push,” she whispered, her voice lingering in the air.



He did, groaning loudly as he sank into her to the hilt, and he immediately began pumping her greedily, stroking her hot body inside and out.



Tamton noted the moment when the Priest truly saw Indra’s form, when his eyes widened and swept over the changes, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. But he kept thrusting into her, humping like the animal he was; he didn’t stop. His Mistress had him enthralled; they coupled for a good long while, the wet squelch of him plowing her sex torturing him more and more.

Indra forced him to pause midway through so that she could strip the rest of the way, until she was wearing only her boots, and as she lay back again, spreading wide with her tail looping around one of his thighs, she giggled.



“Sample my other temptation, Priest,” she said, “it’s even tighter.”



“F-filthy,” he said with gritted teeth, but pushed obediently once Indra had reset his cock’s head at her deep purple pucker instead of her pussy.



Her ring began to yield immediately and he gasped, looking up and staring at himself for a moment in the mirror. He faltered, clearly able to see his prick impaling her, preparing to sodomize the diabolic creature, and he made a sound of wordless protest. Indra grabbed hold of his hips and pulled him to her, forcing the rest of his erection into her asshole. She next grabbed his hair and forced him to look down at her eyes.



“Fuck me,” she hissed, her own teeth gritted as well, her fangs on full display.



“Un-unclean,” he whispered.



“Fuck my ‘unclean’ hole or I’ll have you pull out and tongue it first.”



The flex of the Priest’s hips were slow at first, but as he fell again into her Ardeur, he increased his tempo to fuck her back portal properly. She cried out in pleasure, her wings flapping once as her tail slapped at him several times.



“Yes! Yes!”



Tamton was hunched over and having to stroke his manhood to relieve some of the ache, but he continued on his watch, trying to listen above the noise. He should mention to Lord Indrath that she needed to learn a sound-dampening invocation so others on the street couldn’t hear this…



“Feel me cum, Priest,” she gasped, clawed hands reaching to scrape down his arms as she leaned her head back and shrieked in pleasure.



At that moment, the Priest cursed and his body jolted once and continued jerking as he spurted his seed deep into his Mistress. He barked in short gasps, pressing himself farther inside and letting her milk every drop from him.



They were still a moment, the magic slowly, very slowly dissipating, but the human man crumpled to the floor as soon as his dick shriveled and fell out of the Fey’ri’s anus. He lay gasping desperately for breath, shaking and barely conscious, his pants down and his crotch and thighs soaked and stained.



Indra got up quite calmly and, with a satisfied sigh, approached Tamton, her hips and wings swaying, her tail flicking playfully.



“You heard no one?” she asked.



He shook his head. “I don’t believe so. He lives alone and no visitors came. We were lucky.”



“Then relieve yourself in me, Tamton,” she commanded, leaning against the wall, her wings flattened and her legs open. “I’ll be the one to listen this time.”



After a moment’s hesitation as he considered her safety, the blonde man succumbed to her order and quickly undid his breeches, pushing them down to his thighs. He leaned down and kissed her hot shoulder gently, pressing stomach-to-stomach with her as he gently touched her hips and her waist. She cooed softly and, while he could still feel her familiar aura, she was not using it against him; he was acting of his own will.



Finally he lifted one of her thighs up so he could fit himself snugly into the heat of her sex. It was incredible…he could imagine nothing better than the feel of her body around him. After a few thrusts, she allowed him to lift her up, her buttocks in his hands and her legs around his waist, and he fucked her swollen, sopping channel with utter pleasure.



This would be quick, he knew, with her magic already humming around them and very limited time before the Priest became self-aware again, but he gratefully accepted her gift now, thrusting steadily toward his release. He would cum in her pussy this time.



She was a good Mistress, and he loved her. For her Father, he would protect her until his last breath.



*****



“Did you accomplish your task, my dear?”



“Yes, Father, I did. Beyond what I expected!”



“Well, then. May I admire Master Creed’s work, daughter?”



Indra felt a very deep thrill in having him ask that, enough that she failed to think of a reply beyond a nod before concentrating intently on lifting her skirt. She bunched and tucked the lavender silk in one hand at her waist, smoothing more cloth out of the way before stroking her bald, red mound automatically and affectionately.



After a second, she recalled her purpose and used her first two fingers to gently part her puffy, well-used lips, only recently cleaned. The fold of skin protecting her most sensitive spot had been pierced and a small, gold hoop threaded through it as a tiny, decorative ball on the hoop itself rested just above her clitoris.



She looked up through her lashes as she gave him ample time to study her new decoration, seeing his warm expression and feeling his approval.



“Lovely,” he said. “I take it Master Creed continues to please?”



She chuckled softly and nodded. “Yes, Father. He was kind enough to be my first test, him and his wife.”



Lord Indrath’s dark eyebrows rose up curiously. “Oh?”



Indra nodded, taking the invitation to continue. “I felt the same resistance as my first visit for the commission, but was able to overcome it. I felt more power at my disposal and this time not only the husband succumbed. She did as well. She actually took down her hair.”



“Goodwife Creed is a stubborn one, I’ll grant you,” Indrath smiled at his daughter with genuine mirth. “She must have been an arresting sight.”



“Oh, she was. Probably the first time she gifted her husband with tasting *all* of her.”



Lord Indrath laughed out loud at that one, the memory offered at the fore of her mind completing the picture for him. “In time they will stop resisting so much, so long as what they recall is pleasure and reward.”



Indra nodded. “Yes, Father.”



“You were gone for quite some time,” he continued, his tone turning softer. “What delayed your return?”



“Well,” the devil-touched fey began, trying to humble her pride and excitement in the retelling. “I found a Priest of Talabrina in the North Ward. A subtle sign in a corner of a window, and as soon as I spoke with him, I heard the ritual prayer of protection in his mind.”



“A Priest…” Lord Indrath looked thoughtful, his face on of arresting and otherworldly beauty, even when he frowned. “What did you decide to do, daughter of mine?”



“Seduce him,” she replied proudly. “I would not have been able to dominate his will before, but I’ve grown stronger, and the ring helped as well. He didn’t want to but he pleasured both my holes.”



“I see.”



Indra could tell her father wasn’t on the verge of laughter as she was, imagining a holy man trapped so completely in her Ardeur, and that kept her from blurting out the happy sound of delight that had welled in her chest. She blinked at him. “Father? Did I do wrong?”



A small smile came to the Fey Lord’s sensuous and he shook his head once. “You merely followed your true nature, I cannot fault you for that. Tell me what happened once you broke him.”



It looked as first as though she wasn’t sure what to say; she had been better prepared to describe the seduction and domination of wills, not the subsequent deeds.



“Well…Tamton needed relief. First I saw to that.”



Indrath tilted his head at her. “In the Priest’s house, still?”



Indra nodded, sensing that hadn’t been the best answer either.



“He is your protector, Indra. Perhaps it is not such a good notion to distract him?”



“I watched for us until he finished,” she answered. “We traded watch. It didn’t take long.”



Lord Indrath chuckled, crossing his arms across his bare, dusky-red chest. “I hadn’t realized you were his protector as well.”



Indra felt her cheeks go warmer than usual but set her jaw. What, was she to ask Tamton to expose his organ outside in the whipping wind instead of a warm house?



“He could hardly walk upright, Daddy,” she tried a bit of tease in her tone but it had no effect.



“And after?” Lord Indrath asked firmly, expecting a prompt answer. “Did the Priest become aware of himself before you left?”



“Yes, Father,” she answered, letting her smile fall. “And I told him I wanted him to leave Winter Home as soon as possible, that he wasn’t welcome here. Then we left.”



Lord Indrath nodded slowly, his face neutral for the moment but again, she could sense that he wasn’t pleased with the answer.



“And you didn’t think of have him name any of his followers? Or try to glean them from his mind?”



Immediately Indra could see what her father had been getting at and her yellow eyes widened as her expression changed rapidly from a stubborn pout to open shock to embarrassed self-censure.



“No, Father. I didn’t think of that.” She looked down toward the fine carpet covering the well-dressed stone and nibbled her bottom lip carefully. “I…was focused entirely on him. His will was strong enough, he could have broken the bond. And he fought me…I was having so much fun, and I won at last… I wanted to leave and tell you as soon as possible…”



She trailed off and Lord Indrath let her stand in silence for several long moments. Her tail twitched back and forth nervously and she didn’t make eye contact with him. Finally when the quiet had become uncomfortable, he stepped forward quietly, the whole of his legs and tail and anything else from the waist down hidden by the long, heavy leather sarong that he wore. He embraced his daughter, and she was tense at first, until he spoke.



“An oversight I’d like minimized, my treasure,” he breathed quietly into her hair.



“…Do you wish me to return and try to find out for you?” she asked hesitantly, and his hand stroked her hair.



“No, no,” he replied with a chuckle. “That ship has sailed. I will make inquiries.”



She nodded, leaning into his embrace and seeking his warmth and comfort. “I’m sorry, Father, I failed you.”



“No, Indra, you put yourself at greater risk. That is what concerns me. Consider the risk and the reward, which outweighs the other here?”



“I-I understand,” she murmured, her previous high completely subjugated to the embarrassment she felt now. “My reward was short-term, and I did not think to look at the bigger painting.”



“Exactly,” he breathed, sounding more pleased. He straightened and leaned back to look at her face. “If you are going to challenge other faiths in Winter Home, it is advisable to gain new names from every contact. Otherwise it is a dead end. This time, you do not know exactly who you may have made as an enemy in corrupting their Priest.”



“I understand, Father,” she said again. “I’ll do better next time.”



The Fey Lord grinned widely before planting a soft kiss on her forehead and stepping away. “Of course, you will, my daughter. Meantime, stay out of North Ward for a few days at least. I want to see what ripples you’ve caused, if any, among the affluent.”



Indra fidgeted with one claw as she thought about that. “I will, but… I don’t want to stay in the manor all that time. Father, I…Is there another Ward I may explore?”



He watched her patiently, seeming to weigh her request, and finally nodded. “With additional escort, yes.”



Indrath turned from her but made a gesture for her to follow him. He directed her to stand next to him facing one of his tapestries on the wall—an elegant scene of maidens and young men languishing around a pool and surrounded in white columns out of doors. It looked exotic, and from the scant clothing and vegetation, Indra had always been able to figure it was of one of the South Lands where the snow and ice didn’t keep such a tight hold for much of the year. It wasn’t as if she had never seen green, though, only that it was for the brief season of summer each year.



With a whisper, Indrath dragged his own claws across the breasts of one nubile model and the tapestry changed from a foreign, erotic scene to a much more mundane and straightforward map of Winter Home. His daughter could read the names of North Ward, Sea Ward, Trade Ward, South Ward, and Castle Ward.



“I must forbid South Ward to you until you’ve shown greater awareness, my treasure,” Indrath said. “The poorest and most desperate reside there, and there also grows most of the darkest hearts. You are not ready.”



The young Fey’ri remained quiet and did not challenge that. Her yellow eyes first found her own home on the map—within a stretch of land right on the border between Castle Ward and North Ward—then she traced the boundaries of the various Wards, finding South Ward quite far down from her.



Of the times she’d come down from the high rise on which the manor had been built and actually left the grounds of House Rousse in the last eighty years of her life, it had only been to North Ward so far, with upscale merchants and the better class homes. Some of her tutors had even come from North Ward, and for a long while, few outside of the Manor had ever seen Lord Indrath’s daughter—indeed, even knew that he had one!



Her contentment and sense of security remained intact for decades and kept her from being too curious while a carefree child. The maturity of her body and her magic at the same time, however, was having the same effect as if she were trying to spread her wings inside a box: she strained to get out, to see more…to fly. Literally. Thus far she had only been able to use her wings in her Father’s atrium; he did not want her flying out over the city in the open air and the wind.



That there was a clear and extreme opposite to North Ward in Winter Home did not surprise her, at least in theory, but she could not imagine what it might look like, what darkness might be there that her father would forbid her going there for the time being.



Indrath continued as his claw trailed over the map. “You know of Castle Ward and the Registry, of course, you can see them from the south view. Offices and archives. Exceedingly boring unless you have a taste for clerks, but even then, I’d not recommend it.



“The Sea Ward is largely docks and warehouses, with a few inns catering to the seamen. Not my first choice for entertainment and a rougher element than you’ve seen, my dear, but not without its charm. I’d more likely recommend the Trade Ward for you. It holds many delights and there is challenge amongst their business activity that may interest you. Imagine North Ward but with a much greater variety of residents and professions, with much more energy put into their work because it is necessary they do so.”



Indra nodded, noting Sea Ward on the eastern coast and Trade Ward right to the north of it, and Castle Ward somewhat in the center of Winter Home. South Ward was technically to the south, yes, but actually extended more to the west as well, farthest from the denser clusters of business and shipping. Walls separated North and Castle Ward from the others, and distance and practicality did the rest.



“What is farther to the west?” Indra pointed at South Ward and the way its boundary was not as clearly defined.



“The land of the Nordland barbarian tribes, before you enter the mountains leading to Ice Heart,” Indrath answered. “The city walls are not as well-maintained to the west and occasionally the barbarians will raid South Ward. Or trade with them. Depending on how their hunting has gone in the past season.”



Indra nodded. “I’ve never seen a barbarian.”



“You may soon, my precious,” Indrath sounded amused. “In Trade Ward, you may. Look for the human men and women wearing animal furs with the teeth and claws still attached.”



His daughter gave him an odd look.



“Come, now, you have trophies, do you not?” he asked her with a laugh. “You kept something of Goodwife Creed’s, I’ll wager.”



Indra felt herself flush hot. “Um…”



“What was it?” her father asked, eyes twinkling.



“The satin ribbon that held her smallclothes to her waist,” she admitted.



“And the Priest?” His tone grew even more teasing.



Now her face was positively burning. “The sterling ring on his pinky finger.”



“There. You understand a barbarian’s need to mark their victories. Do not be intimidated by them, Indra. Like hounds, they can smell fear. Trade Ward favors the bold, though not those who look to pick a fight. It hurts business. If there is one thing to remember about the merchants, it is that they think of the effects on their business first, then they worry about their own skins.”



Indra nodded. “I understand, Father.”



“Perhaps not completely, but you will. With time and practice, like any of our family.”



****



The third day after her return from North Ward saw the cloud layers parting somewhat, a portion of the blue sky visible as golden sunlight streamed through to light up the brisk and very cold air as the streets of Winter Home lightened several shades out of grey. It was only now edging into spring though any growth or warmth a few weeks off, but for once it was not snowing. Not a speckling or flurry.



Indra opted to go out that very day, Tamton at her side as always but also with the additional escort her father required: in this case, a mute, brunette, dark-eyed and pale-skinned guard named William, with whom Tamton sparred regularly. He was somewhat older but still healthy and was one of the better martial trainers despite having no voice. William was the epitome of “show, don’t tell.”



She knew the two men fought well together and if there came a need, they’d watch each other’s backs along with hers. Strength in numbers, as long as those numbers were loyal.



Instead of taking a coach from the stables, Indra also opted for a paid coach. She had sent a request earlier that morning via courier to schedule one, and she made the effort to meet it at the crossroads of Rousse Gate at the base of their rise and the edge of their estate. She walked some distance outside through a very hilly area sprinkled with bare trees and mounds of old leaves, cold streams, and some of the better housing with land.



Like before, she was going out with her altered form, appearing a well-to-do young human woman with green eyes and honey-brown hair who seemingly didn’t mind getting her boots muddied, accompanied by two reasonably handsome, human bodyguards. The assumption of affiliation with House Rousse would be obvious to the driver—no other family lived around here—but she did not have to make it seem as though she was the Lady of the House.



She could afford to be more discrete and try to be more patient, like her Lord Father, though truly, Indra looked forward to exploring Trade Ward and seeing the variety there. The majority of the city contained humans of many colors, as that race seemed to breed the fastest, but there were plenty of other bipedal races as well; dwarves, half-orcs, felids, half-elves and a few actual elves.



Of any race, Indra as a Fey’ri had more in common with the elves—she had been told she was of their blood, after all, even though she had no memory of a mother, elf or otherwise. Her diabolic heritage through her father, however, stood out far too much for them to ever trust her as one of the Queen’s people, and that was just as well.



It had always been only her sire and her. He adored her, and she could not imagine being more loyal to some unknown “Queen of her People” than Indra was to her Lord Father. This was more than enough.



“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked.



“The Trade Ward.”



“Yeah? Where in?”



“Just drive around, I’ll know it when I see it.”



At his expression, Indra relaxed her normal mental guards and probed his immediate thoughts, hearing an internal moan and, *I’m getting too old for this,* flitting across the fore of his mind.



She shrugged mentally. At least it hadn’t been something uncharitable about her.



She reached up to open her gloved hand, and flat in the palm was a gold piece, easily three times the rate for simply taking her into town. “I’ll give you another upon stopping if you give me a nice tour beforehand.”

The driver’s thoughts became sunnier as he took the coin, rather like the light peeking through the grey clouds, and he nodded, tightening down his warmest clothing and waiting until the three of them had climbed aboard. Then he snapped the reins and nudging his pair of shaggy, cold-weather horses forward.



It took some time to get out of the mix of trees and better homes in the northern part of the city and into the tighter clusters of population. It was farther still before the twists of cobbled roads lined with simpler one- and two-story cottages packed cheek and jowl together gave way to grander buildings, inns, taverns, and shops.



“Trade Ward,” the driver called out over the noise of the carriage and the people moving about their late-morning business. “If you can think of it, you can buy it here. Wine, the company of women and men, games of chance, song, stories, and dance. Home to all manner of taverns are festhalls, inns, guildhalls, merchants and a fair decent place to settle down in if you’re looking for such a home and don’t mind a little noise. Most of the city’s guilds are quartered in this ward, and if you ever want to do business, you should check with them first.”



Indra was looking out windows on both sides, drinking in the details as she alternated leaning over Tamton’s and William’s laps in turn. She grinned and winked at Tamton at the mention that “company” could be purchased, but thought the rest of the man’s spiel sounded practiced. Whether it applied to her directly or not, the driver had said this before.



She knew she wanted to stop at a tavern and watch some of the entertainment he claimed, as well as just watch the other patrons, but they were moving by quickly enough and there were enough of them that Indra had trouble deciding.



“Do you recommend a particular tavern for newcomers?” she asked, leaning somewhat out her window to call up to him, and he nodded to show he’d heard her.



“If you don’t mind me suggesting,” he answered, “you could do far, far worse than the Orc’s Bane Inn. Food’s good, security’s better, the beds are warm and the dwarf who runs it caters to those who are new to town as well as those who’ve been ‘just passing through’ for the last few years.”



Again, his speech sounded very practiced, and as she focused again on him, Indra could pick up additional thoughts of coin on top of hers. The man was paid a commission to recommend the Orc’s Bane to his travelers…except perhaps to those with orc blood, she was guessing.



*Hm.* She wasn’t sure what to think about that. “Tell me about the proprietor.”



“Glain’s a retired adventurer, struck it rich in the caves of Ice Heart,” the driver said. “Got a few good stories and always has decent entertainment. He doesn’t water down his drinks, makes and drinks his own ales, and the location’s also good. Got a Registry office not two buildings down, and all manner of ways to spend your money in the area.”



Still she kept listening in on his thoughts, and she could determine at least that he believed what he was saying. He wasn’t knowingly lying, and he even liked Glain. Or at least respected him.



So the security was better than the food, even, and the dwarf made—more importantly—drank his own ales… She had to admit those were two qualities in favor of the place. And if one establishment was as good as another at this point…why not?



“Very well, please drop us off at the Orc’s Bane, but take the long way around. I’d like more of a tour first.”



“Yes, Miss,” he said, sounding pleased.



Indra paid him the additional gold coin she’d promised when they arrived at the intended inn a good two hours later. It was just in time for lunch and her stomach was growling—as no doubt were the men’s.



“If ye’d be so kind as to tell Master Glain that Master Smithee says hello, I’d be obliged,” their driver said.



With a narrowing of her eyes, Indra picked-up his other method if she didn’t mention him at all. He would be by later after his shift and hand detailed descriptions of “guests” that he’d dropped off that day to Glain. Indra figured if that worked for the dwarf and he paid out, then the proprietor likely was one of the more lawful ones, following through on his agreements.



“Certainly, Master Smithee,” she said with a lovely smile. “I’ll do so. Thank you for the tour.”



The trio entered quickly so as to get out of the wind which had picked up, and they walked over rough hardwood floors to enter a grand common room.



The inside of the Orc’s Bane was astonishingly warm with the very large fire within the stone hearth in the center of the room. A dwarven-made smoke-catch collected and funneled all the smoke up through a metal pipe and out through the high roof while leaving the heat to radiate out on all sides. To their right was a large bar as well as a place to check cloaks and coats. The far wall contained a small stage, and the remaining floor space was filled with sturdy, wooden tables and chairs of mostly uniform sizes. Stairs led up to a second floor and what she was assuming were the “warm beds” that were offered. She would not be surprised if that huge hearth somehow heated some of the upper rooms as well.



The most startling thing for Indra, however, was the enormous and seemingly random collection of weapons decorating the walls and even the ceiling. All kinds were present: one- and two-handed swords and axes, daggers, flintlocks, fencing blades, barbed wire, wooden staffs, hand-held scythes, even a pitchfork or two…



The most curious thing about it all was that nothing seemed to be holding the weapons to the wall; not one sword was supported by any physical frame or tie or hook.



Indra spared a moment to listen to her other senses and nodded to herself; there was magic in this place.



Tamton had been standing in front of her with William guarding her back, and she’d been staring when a gruff voice called out to them.



“Well? Ye gonna pick a seat or no?”



The healthy handful of patrons already sitting at tables looked up from their food or their ponderings to glance at them, maybe smirk, but otherwise had little reaction. Indra knew that would not have been the case without her illusion; at this tavern, she only saw humans and dwarves so far.



Indra walked out from behind Tamton and started leading them toward the bar and the elderly, grisly-bearded dwarf who’d yelled across the inn at them. Now more of the patrons took notice—seeing her dress, her gait, and the fact that both men followed her—and stared a little harder. Indra picked up a smattering of thoughts among them.



*Rich girl. What’s she doing here?*



*Lovely lady. I’m glad she has protectors.*



*Damn, there goes the quiet. Should be men-only in here…*



*Like tah aim right fer those tits…*



She passed through them and approached the bar. The dwarf behind it had been a fiery red-head in his youth, though now it was streaked through with grey, his beard well-groomed with a few braids in place. The mixed coloring did nothing to diminish the powerful personality staring at her through steel blue eyes, however. His hair had been cut into a two-pronged mohawk, his head shaved bald on either side above his ears, and her eyes quickly noted the blue-ink runic tattoos: one on the left side of his scalp and several more hinted at beneath his leather shirt, probably covering his enormously muscled shoulders and arms, if not more.



She also saw a scar running down almost vertical across his left eye, from forehead to cheek, and had the feeling that this dwarf could still toss even orcs out of his tavern with his bare hands, despite his age— which was hard to determine even with the grey.



She smiled. “Master Glain?”



“Aye, so I’m told. An’ ye, young lady?”



“Miss Bennett. These are my escorts. One Master Smithee recommended your establishment.”



Glain grunted with a half-smile, his eyes glancing at her men and taking their measure in an instant. He more or less dismissed them. “Smithee always did have it in for me. So whatter ye here for? Food? Bed?”



“Both, and do you have any entertainment today?” She gestured at the currently empty stage.



“Aye. Shane Bahgell, a traveling storyteller. Be here in another two hours, takes requests sometimes. Ingrid Kahlner, a fine wood piper, on after. Also a new veil dancer later on this eve, half-elf, probably more to the liking of yer companions, though.”



“Mmm,” Indra smiled at the dwarf, her gaze warming. “No, I think I’d like that as much as them. Her name?”



“Calls herself Chantel.” He quirked a shaggy eyebrow at her. “An’ it’s dance only, no stark reveal, if you get my meaning. So, two rooms?”



Indra shook her head. “One.”



“Oh-kay,” the dwarf drawled. “We don’t do guards outside doors. They get bored and cause raucous with the passersby, ‘specially the drunk ones.”



“Not to worry. They’ll guard the inside of the door.”



Glain smirked. “As ye wish, then. Six meals? Or nine, includin’ breakfast?”



Indra smiled slowly. “Nine.”



Glain nodded, reaching for a quill and flipping open a stained, leather-bound ledger. He scribbled something before giving her a sum, asking for payment in advance. “Ye can always come down for extra, just have a few copper on ye.”



She nodded and paid his sum. Then the dwarf looked back up at her, staring hard at her.



“Ye saw the weapons on the walls, right?”



The Fey’ri nodded. “Yes, I was wondering about those. There are no hooks or braces holding them up.”



“There’s a reason fer that.” Glain brushed his beard with one hand. “This is neutral territory. I dinnae tolerate fights or plots in my place, troublemakers can take their diff’rences into the snow, an’ anyone only draws their weapon once.” The dwarf held up his stubby index finger for emphasis, holding it in front of her face. “Once. Then they dinnae get them back.”



Indra looked around her again at the array of weapons, probably a good two hundred of them, if she counted all the tiny steak knives. “How long have you been running your place?”



The dwarf smiled almost as slowly as she had earlier. “The Orc’s Bane has been here for hundreds o’ years, Miss. The weapons bein’ part o’ the wall forever has been a good deterrent, as well as the source o’ some damn good stories. Only the occasional idiot draws a weapon here.”



Indra had to agree with the driver; the security was indeed good. “What about fistfights?”



“Ain’t lethal, but still getcha tossed to the snow.”



The Fey’ri thought about it some more. “What about the walls in the rooms?”



Glain frowned and didn’t answer for a beat. Then he leaned forward slightly. “Ye get to draw once in this inn, an’ it catches. All. Weapons.”



Indra somehow thought that an unclear answer—he was trying hard to intimidate her— but she wasn’t going to argue. She was just curious.



“Had enough answers, then, Miss Bennett?” Glain asked, and she nodded.



“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll enjoy my day, and my evening. And your stew.” She pointed toward another patron at the bar. “I’ll have what he’s having.”



*****



The Lady of House Rousse wore out her bodyguards as she traipsed about Trade Ward that day, visiting merchant after merchant and seeing many of the same wares that ended up at House Rousse, but now it was in person, within their own establishments. She could smell unique spices and scents of industry even in the cold air as she passed by doors briefly opened by an entering or exiting patron.



Fortunately for her guards, she bought only a few small items, things easily carried in a pouch or pocket: a bloodstone, ornate silver pin, a bag of red sand from the South Lands, several bags of herbs, a simple gold pinky ring, two small red candles, and pure salt sealed in a hand-sized cedar box. She also indulged herself in purchasing a new pendant of deep garnet and gold to wear around her neck; it happily rested just above her cleavage.



By the time they returned early in the evening, the storyteller was already gone and the pipist had been playing for a while at the Orc’s Bane Inn. The common room was more crowded as people sat to eat, drink, and listen. Occasionally they’d toss a coin the entertainer’s way or shout a request or a comment. It was not so much rowdy in the place, she didn’t think, just lively.



She moved through the tavern with Tamton and William still following, walking around the edge to block fewer views, although there were more casual thoughts like those from before as eyes trailed her. She went directly upstairs to her room and asked the men to set down her things and lock the door.



She felt so excited; her body felt tight and hot. Five times she’d sensed a pair coupling in some furtive place as she’d shopped; twice in the room above the shop, once in a closet vulnerable to discovery, another quickie in an alleyway and once in a passing coach.



Indra couldn’t help but recognize the energy on which her magic was based; she was very sensitive to those mental spikes in pleasure. It had been a sort of agony not being able to step in and begin manipulating that pleasure…



She took off her cloak, hung it, and started tugging at the laces of her bodice. “Tamton, help me.”



Her blonde companion heard her unspoken order and moved forward, going down on one knee so his head was near her backside. He reached beneath her skirts to slide his hands up to her hips. She was wearing smallclothes today, originally to try to help with tempting opportunities, but now she wanted them off. Immediately.



He unlaced the ribbon at her hips and gently tugged her underclothing down her legs, reaching again to pull at the closer satin slip, pooling them both at her ankles and helping her step out of them, one boot at a time. He took a moment to smell her scent on the smallclothes before setting them aside.



“William,” she beckoned the older brunette after fully opening her bodice to expose her human-looking breasts, her new garnet hanging between them. She may have worn the smallclothes beneath her skirt but definitely hadn’t gone for the much more restraining chemise or corset.



The second guard actually hesitated as Tamton’s head disappeared beneath her dress and the young man started touching and kissing his Mistress’s tender parts with practiced familiarity. She sighed and gestured for William again and he heard her mental command.



*Suck on them. Kiss them. Squeeze them.*



*I am…on guard, my Lady.*



*We are safe here, no one knows who I am, I’ve been discrete.*



William shook his head once. *A merchant could have had an object to see through your illusion, my Lady. We could have been followed. All the items you bought today are for magical rituals. If I know that, then who else—?*



Indra’s eyes flashed with impatience and anger, even as Tamton’s fingers moved wetly between her legs. *They were each purchased separately and you only know that because you live with us! Also, Glain’s inn is neutral ground anyway. Now do as I command, William.*



At last her second escort came forward, bending his head to start suckling at her breasts. She reached to cup his male package as well, stroking and coaxing through his breeches for a response. It was slower than with Tamton—he’d been conditioned to become erect almost as soon as he realized his Mistress wanted sex—but inevitable as he kept exploring her pale, naked skin and submitting to her exploration.



No sort of mounting had yet occurred, nor were any of them even close to climaxing, when there was a polite but firm knock on her door. Glain’s voice came through.



“Miss Bennett, as ye seemed interested, Chantel’ll be dancing on stage in ten minutes, if ye’d like to grab a seat.”



Indra hesitated, thinking at first that she’d already missed two of the three entertainers tonight, what was one more in favor of getting release….?



Although… her aura was absolutely humming right now, and as long as her two escorts also remained frustrated it would only extend her area of influence. She began to get a truly wicked idea as she wondered what effect this might have on the performance of a veil dancer…?



It was her first opportunity to see firsthand whether she could do herself what she’d seen her Father do before, whether her magic and her control had the potential to match his in time. She’d once witnessed a performer do some truly creative things to herself in public for her audience… Lord Indrath had only purred that low chuckle, yet she knew it had been him. His influence somehow.



Indra shuddered and firmly pushed William back from her, giving Tamton the mental command to stop fingering her and get out from under her skirts.



“Master Glain…thank you,” she said with a soft gasp. “I’d have slept right through it! I’ll be right down.”



She listened to the dwarf walk away as she began re-fastening her bodice.



“Do you want your smallclothes, Mistress?” Tamton asked huskily, his voice strained although she knew he would not complain about the delay.



She laughed and shook her head. “No. Let us go downstairs. But first don your cloaks. You both need the added concealment.”



*****



The audience hadn’t moved much since she’d last seen it, though she noticed a tighter cluster around an extra stage extension that had been placed front and center, allowing viewers to see the dancer from three sides instead of all eyes only from the front.



It only took a mental trick to gain seats closest to the stage on the left side; curiously, three of the men had an urgent need to visit the privy and had to abandon their seats shortly before “Miss Bennett” and her escorts chose to sit in their warm seats.



Indra could feel her nipples straining against her bodice, tight and sensitive against the fabric, and her sex was still moist and hot and fragrant beneath her dress. More than a few of the men noticed her, looked at her without truly understanding why; she was seated between her escorts but those closest to her still seemed to drawn in the air through their nose as if enjoying a garden in full bloom.



She needed time to make herself sit still, to try to focus the sensations and scents and very naughty thoughts rampaging through her mind. She succeeded for the most part, waiting on a blade’s edge of excitement for the show to begin.



Chantel finally appeared to a slow, sensuous note played by Ingrid the wood piper, joined immediately by a brown-skinned man tapping a drum with his palms. She stepped out from behind the curtain on silent, delicate, feet, wrapped in bright red satin slippers. Her long legs her toned and smooth, the cinnamon color of her skin masked by the brightly colored veils that shimmered about her body from her waist. Her flat belly was exposed, however, as were her long, graceful arms, a half-length, sleeveless bodice cupping lovingly to her curves and pushing up her breasts.



The colors of her costume seemed to change between orange and red and yellow, her long, ebony curls down her back following as a shadow follows a flame. Her face was partially covered with a matching veil that draped across her fine nose to cover her full mouth, but her eyes were exotic, tilted further upward, large and deep black like a well. Only when Indra saw the slightly-pointed shape of the woman’s ears did she recall Glain saying that she was half-elf, half-human.



The performer began her dance, encouraging applause as she shimmied and undulated her hips, her arms completing poses and helping her maintain her balance for some of the more difficult positions.



*Ohh, she’s beautiful, isn’t she, Tamton?* Indra thought, genuinely impressed and thrilled with the sensuality of the woman. She had also never seen a human this color, much less one of elf-blood, and the style of dance was unknown to her.



Tamton shifted, physically uncomfortable, but answered her. *Yes, Mistress.*



*Would you want to see more of her?*

She sensed a chagrinned smirk coming from him. *Of course, Mistress. That is the purpose of the tease, isn’t it?*



*Oh, my, yes. And so do I…*



Indra’s breathing had deepened along with that of Chantel, along with other members of the audience. She only had to be patient and wait; sooner or later, their eyes would be drawn together…



Chantel made several passes back and forth in front of her viewers, moving to the wood pipe’s music and the heartbeat mimic of the drum. Finally, her deep eyes did make contact with the Fey’ri’s intense green ones. The dancer hesitated for a split-second, hardly noticeable to her audience, but her face seemed to darken as she flushed hotter in her cheeks as she kept dancing directly in front of “Miss Bennett” and her men for a time.



*Yes….*



Indra kept her connection open, letting her lust pour through it as it strengthened her aura. The music seemed to speed up just a little, not much but enough to match Chantel’s more bold moves as she shifted from teasingly sensual to overtly erotic.



Her cinnamon hands stopped making so many gestures and signs above her head and instead moved in to caress her own curves, tracing her waist and her hips, moving up to cup her breasts, give them a gentle squeeze, before letting go. The audience at the Orc’s Bane all the way to the back sat up straighter in their seats, leaning forward as they wondered what else the exotic dancer might do…



Indra was breathing deeply in her seat as if she was the one physically exerting herself, and Tamton reached to touch her hand.



*Mistress? Are you alright?*



*Keep watching her, Tamton. I want her.*



Chantel’s glorious eyes seemed to hazy, glistening and half-closed as she spread her legs more and thrust out her shimmering buttocks toward the audience with a soft moan, against brushing her hands over her breasts and her belly, reaching down…just a little farther down…



The dancer jerked her hand away and her eyes widened as she stared at nothing for a moment, as if she was not quite aware of where she was anymore or what she was doing. Tamton and William both had to subtly stroke themselves—as other men in the audience were doing—trying to find some momentary relief, and Indra made a more obvious movement to stroke her sex through her skirt.



Chantel’s eyes fluttered until they were half-closed again and she continued dancing. It seemed she could almost hear those male thoughts that kept echoing and re-echoing in the room…



*Take it off…*



*Show us…*



*Show us your treasures…*



*Take it all off…*



Her costume was not designed for any sort of slow reveal, but Chantel reached to her waist and jerked at one of the delicate, shimmering strips covering her legs. She tore it off and dropped it to the stage floor, answered with an exhalation from her audience as part of her long, bare leg was revealed.



*Oh! More…more…!*



More coins were tossed onto the stage, sending their encouragement with a “ching!” Chantel barely noticed and bumped her hips a few more times, pulling the stiff straps of her costume down to show the expanse of warm, slightly damp skin and bare shoulders as her breasts strained against the fabric. One of her hands slipped into the opening of her strips and she audibly moaned before tearing off another strip, exposing most of her right leg.



Indra did have the thought to look toward the bar to see if Glain was present. For whatever reason, he was not. The young female dwarf currently tending the bar was staring open-mouthed and a little entranced herself at the magic within the room. Fortunately, her customers didn’t notice her lack of tending as they focused on the show themselves.



The energy was quickly reaching a fever pitch as more coins landed at Chantel’s feet and customers started switching seats trying to get closer to the stage. They murmured her name, murmured prayers that she continue her dance.



*Show us….show us….!*



Chantel continued tearing at her costume, most of her expression masked by the veil, but her eyes began to show conflict and confusion as she exposed more of herself, touched more of herself in front of these men and women. She found herself opening and removing the bodice, spice-colored breasts and dark brown nipples revealed to a roar of approval and yet more coins. She grabbed at her generous mounds in consternation before pinching her own nipples and moaning again.



The music continued, but even the piper and the drummer seemed hypnotized by the dancer.



*So beautiful….*



*The rest…take it off…!*



Chantel got to her feet and turned around to show her backside peeking out beneath torn fabric, then she bent over as she pulled down her final costume piece but for her veil and her slippers, stepping only one leg out of the shortpants to spread her legs and stay bent over at the waist. Her own hands smoothed over her naked buttocks, and a few coins actually struck that plush bottom as her audience rewarded her handsomely for the full view.



*Touch yourself…*



Chantel shuddered at the voice in her head, tried to shake her head no.



* I can feel how aroused you are…put your fingers between your legs.*



The entertainer finally did reach to slide her fingers between glistening lips. There was a wet sound that only a few customers closest to the stage heard.



*Turn around. Face us. Show us that soft, glorious bush.*



The dancer stood up and shifted to face the audience, her chest heaving as her nipples tightened further in the open air. The decorative, well-groomed fur covering her mound was curly and black as the hair on her head, and men called excitedly to her at the sight.



*Keep performing for us, Chantel. It is your love, is it not, to have all these eyes watching you…?*



The exotic dancer smoothly dropped down into a crouch on the stage with a soft whimper. She kept her legs wide open as she used one hand behind her to brace herself, using the other to begin masturbating in earnest, the pinkness of her flesh on full display as her fingers alternated between thrusting into her body and rubbing her pleasure nub.



Chantel made an effort to speak as she moaned, as her fingers got faster. “Ohhh…noooo…m-make it st–….ah! Stop…make it…stop….!”



It didn’t stop until she orgasmed right on stage, her body shaking and her eyes clenched tightly shut to thunderous applause. The men nearly emptied their purses, and more than a few had already finished painting the tavern’s floor in their excitement. As Chantel knelt there gasping, her companions hurried forward to start collecting the coins for her.



The dancer didn’t even look at the coin before she scrambled to gather up most of her ruined costume, and then she ran off the stage full tilt.



*Come,* Indra ordered, standing quickly, mostly hidden amongst some taller men already on their feet. There was a lot of noise as people tried to determine just what in all Hells had just happened at the Orc’s Bane tonight?



The Fey’ri followed the dancer’s scent at first, but was delighted to hear a mad dash up some stairs that would take her to the second floor. Indra couldn’t go back stage easily but she could backtrack up the guest stairs. From there, she just had to get close enough to sense Chantel’s tumultuous thoughts. When she was certain she’d found the right door, number twenty-three, she heard quiet sobbing.



The dancer was thinking, *What have I done? What happened to me, what by the gods came over me?!*



Indra knocked, but did not use her voice. *Chantel. Open the door. Do not fear.*



The woman gasped, her thoughts still foggy and confused.



*Come. Open the door. You will be alright, I will show you.*



After some long moments of hesitation, the dancer finally did open the door, dressed in a quick robe that she’d thrown on upon entering her room. She’d taken off her veil, and her mouth was as full and red as Indra had imagined it might be. The diabolic elf held out her hand for Chantel to take.



*Come with me, beautiful sweet. We’ve little time.*



Without understanding why, the dancer took the Fey’ri’s hand and the trio quickly led the performer back to their own room at the Orc’s Bane, locking the door.



Immediately Indra covered her mouth in a kiss, her hands reaching to undo the sash and open Chantel’s robe again so soon after she’d put it on.



*You have no need to cover yourself, Chantel.*



*Who—?*



*Shhh…I want you. I will taste you.*



The dancer’s robe fell to the floor and William stepped up behind to catch Chantel as she seemed light-headed as Indra withdrew from the kiss, overwhelmed by her aura and her raw lust. Indra greedily caressed and explored the voluptuous dancer with her mouth and her hands, sampling her breasts and her belly, working down to breathe warm air into her fur, smelling her scent before nuzzling her clitoris. Indra remained on her knees to begin sucking eagerly on the other woman.



It was even better than in her dreams…softer, slicker, the most intoxicating fragrance…



Tamton was already helping to remove his Mistress’s clothing without being asked, watching as her illusion began to fade. Indra’s need had become so strong she could no longer focus on it. Indra cooperated only as long as it took to get the clothing off her before she returned to her oral ravishment of the enthralled performer. Her tail whipped back and forth in extreme excitement and her wings stretched out and quivered as clawed, red hands explored every curve and crevice to the half-elf woman.



Chantel cried out weakly, her eyes widening as the devil-bred came into full view with her true colors, but still she kept her legs open as a quick, talented devil’s tongue lapped between them. William still held her against his chest, his arms hooked beneath hers to help keep her upright. Meanwhile, Tamton prepared himself to feed Indra’s hungry snatch, opening his trousers to mount her.



*Take her, William,* Indra said in his mind. *I want her filled and you thrusting into her right next to my chin as she cums on my face.*



The second escort was far beyond any resolve at this point, and he used one hand to unfastened his pants like his compatriot, and shove them down far enough to free his erection. With Indra’s help, he got the woman to lift one of her flexible legs and he hooked it with a forearm to hold her open. As soon as his rigid member was against the dancer’s sex, Indra helped him guide it, telling him when to push.



Chantel grunted, feeling the bare, unfamiliar penetration and started breathing very quickly. She shook her head, but she couldn’t tell them to stop. She was unable to speak as she twitched and writhed at the intense sensations.



William was silent as he worked his member inside the woman at a steady pace, a bit in awe and all he seemed able to think about was that he, of all the men staring at her as she stripped and performed on stage, had ultimately claimed her body. Not without Lady Rousse, of course, and her intense desire…Tamton was thrusting so hard into his Mistress that he could hear the slaps of their haunches.



Chantel’s body tightened in William’s arms and she squirmed more as he squeezed her generous breast, moaning as all the hungry attention to her body brought her inexorably closer to climaxing.



*Yes, sweet one, oh yes, cum for us, cum once again for your audience, all attention is on you, just as you like it…*



The exotic woman shrieked once, her orgasm breaking like a wave, and it set off the other three one by one: Indra, Tamton, then William in quick succession. The power swirled around them, making it impossible to breathe until the surge of pleasure had receded.



They were still catching their breaths, disengaging from wet and sweaty skin, when they realized Glain was pounding so hard on the door that it was about to come off its hinges.



“OPEN THE FUCKIN’ DOOR OR I’LL CLEAVE YER HEADS!!” he bellowed.



That proved a pointless threat as the dwarf broke the handle to his own inn door and barged straight in. He froze at the scene of the naked dancer, two men with their pants down and one naked…something!…



“Troll spit!” he cursed and quickly spun to slam the door in the face of the first curious onlooker, bracing it with a chair. Then he turned back around, brandishing his axe, his scarred face dark with fury.



He didn’t speak immediately, however; he was looking hard at Indra, studying her as she got up off the floor, her face wet from the other woman’s juices.



She smiled at him, not worried about much at all at the moment as she basked in one of the most powerful afterglows she ever remembered. “If you had wanted to join, Master Glain, you only had to ask. You didn’t need to break the door.”



“Quiet, ye!” he barked, and after another beat, “I dinnae realize Indrath’s spawn had grown up so soon. Yer ‘Miss Bennett,’ I take it?”



“That, or she’s very generous with her escorts,” she responded with humor, crossing her arms as Tamton and William were working to right their clothing and actually be able to do something to protect their Mistress if it came down to it. They did not, however, draw a weapon. Apparently the proprietor was the only one who could.



“Just like him, I see,” Glain growled.



She quirked a purple brow at him. “And how would you know if I was?”



“None yer damn business. I want ye three out of my inn, tonight. Ye’ll leave *my* performer here to recover from what ye’ve done to her. And ye wunnae be welcome here again without an apology from Lord Rousse for yer behavior.”



Indra started to laugh, but Glain’s clear, building anger made her think twice.



“This is neutral ground, whelp,” the dwarf said, his eyes some of the most intense she’d ever seen. “Ye not only took this woman against her will, ye also caused a huge raucous downstairs with people wantin’ to hump each other after that show. And ye had ever’thin’ to do with it. It’ll take hours to clean up and I’ll be explain’ for months that I havenae changed my stance on nudey dances!”



He growled deeply. “An’ ye just put yer Da in an awkward spot here, kid. See if he’s laughin’ when he hears about this.”



That last comment finally succeeded in breaking both her afterglow and her good humor. Now her stomach started to feel a little sick. Could he be right?



“Getcher things. Ye can stand in the foyer until yer coach shows up to take ye home. But after that, no comin’ here unless ye have the right message for me, *Lady* Rousse. Got it?”



Indra nodded slowly without saying anything, wondering if there was any magic she had that might help this situation? She didn’t think so…it would probably only make it worse.



Glain moved forward, his very presence almost a physical force causing the three to back up out of his way, and he re-slung his axe before he picked up the robe to drape it over a very quiet Chantel. He helped her to her feet and guided her gently to open the door.



The dwarf looked back at them one last time. “Oh, an’ no refunds.”



*****



Lord Indrath well knew she’d caused trouble again, simply in having to send a coach to pick-up his offspring in the middle of the night. His major domo, Jauvart, saw her safely home before bringing her to her father’s audience.



It was a very uncomfortable re-telling for her as her Lord Father watched her almost without blinking.



“That is…quite the tale, Indra. I would ask what possessed you, but it is most apparent that you were the one doing the possessing, isn’t it?”



His daughter blushed with embarrassment that only he seemed able to make her feel, and was very unhappy that all she seemed to be doing after leaving the grounds was apologizing to him.



“Perhaps this is as much as much my doing as yours,” he sighed. “Your powers are growing faster than I anticipated. I see no other option than to keep you within the estate until you have better control.”



Indra flinched as if she’d been struck and shook her head earnestly. “No, Father, please. I won’t learn more control here, not after seeing the Trade Ward. There is so much going on, so many thoughts and sensations that aren’t familiar. Your servants here know what is expected of them, they are entirely predictable. The city is not, it thrills me like nothing else!”



“You have shown very quickly you are not ready to go to the city, my dear,” Indrath responded very firmly. “But that is not to say that I could not bring some of the city to you.”



Indra shook her head again. “I know how secretive you are. Only those who meet your standards could ever enter to see the inside of this place, it would not be the same.”



He gave her a steady gaze. “It would be if they remembered none of it afterward.”



She began to protest again but he cut her off.



“Indra. Enough. I’ve decided. You’ll not leave the grounds again until at least the summer season. We will re-evaluate then.”



His daughter went rigid in frustration, her fists clenched and her agitated tail coiling about itself. Tears appeared in her eyes and her lower lip trembled as she tried to catch her breath around a lump in her throat. She cleared it before asking, “May I be excused, Father?”



“Excused? To where, Daughter?”



She gave him a look but knew well why he’d ask for clarification on that one. “My quarters.”



“Yes. You may be excused to your quarters.”



His offspring left his office quickly, her high emotion very visible in her aura and her thoughts in turmoil. She was thinking how she could not seem to please him in following her own magic, in practicing, as he’d said, with very little guidance. He’d allowed her to get the piercing which amplified her aura in the first place, and how was she to know what she could and couldn’t do in the City if he merely said, “Go and see”? It had been so exciting as well, so freeing to decide how to spend her time in the bustle of activity… but now any time she used her sexual magic, she got in trouble for it.



She was confused and very hurt.



Indrath sighed to himself. She hadn’t yet realized the essence of her mistakes. She was overbearing her victims with pure power. They were fully aware they were being forced, aware that their will was being bent only to please her. And others watching were aware of the force being used as well. It helped that she had not hurt any of her victims, that they only experienced a strong orgasm from their contact with her, but it still created complexities that he couldn’t allow to go unchecked for long.



When his daughter understood better how to use her powers—when she at last learned some subtlety—those whom she chose would simply say, “Yes.” They would be grateful to be with such beauty and experience pleasure beyond their very dreams. No one watching would give it a second thought; there would be no trouble, no undue attention. There would be no negative reputation to make forging future alliances more difficult, and it would not make finding future loyal servants or the occasional sacrifice that much harder.



Still, he couldn’t judge her too harshly. It wasn’t as though Indrath didn’t possess certain impulsive memories of his own. She reminded him so much of himself at that age.



As the Fey Lord thought about Glain next, and Indra’s description of his outrage at the Orc’s Bane, he began to laugh audibly, smooth and low. Such a scene to behold after the dwarf had charged in! Glain could use a little more excitement after his retirement… and Indra no doubt brought back memories. It was just as well that Indra had revealed herself that way to his former associate; she may just be as potent as Indrath was over time, and the dwarf should keep it in mind.



Yes. It was time to visit the stubborn old codger again, anyway. They could reminisce. Indra could bring him that “note of apology” some time later, when she eventually went back.



Meanwhile, his daughter needed some specialized tutors…and better protection than poor Tamton could offer.

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