AH Fantasies Ch. 14

Chapter 14: Castle Rollingrock

Author's note: The following was inspired by Chapter 6 of this chain, "Falling's Follies" by Skip1934a. As with all the other chapters, the characters were pulled from the online personas of volunteer members of the Author's Hangout (with a touch of real life descriptions and such), but their actions, activities, and words are merely a function of the fantasy and should not be any indication of how they normally behave.

The reluctant messenger trudged up the thick, wet grass of the embankment he'd fallen down. Served him right, he thought, for not noticing the ditch in the first place. Why Her Grace didn't have the sorcerers send out the invitations to those who were off the regular post or trade routes was beyond him. But, when he considered where he was headed, perhaps it wasn't possible for magical communication to make it through.

"And, only someone like myself," he muttered, "would be likely to agree to come out here by themselves for something as simple as a party invite, even for the Duchess of Florafawn." Indeed, there were many reasons why he wasn't a fool like others—happy in the wearing of motley and carrying a jingling stick—but was known as The Fool...coarse, abrasive, but direct and insightful as well. All traits that were well suited for dealing with Castle Rollingrock. Or, more accurately, with its scion and that succubus of a half-sister of his.

Fool finally returned to the road and headed back toward the lights gleaming through the fog ahead of him. It wasn't incredibly faster than moving through the brush, but it was level and the Fool didn't have to worry about picking up ticks. Of course, in the castle ahead, there were other bloodsuckers in search of fresh prey, but he'd deal with that if it came up.

The jingle-jangle of a coach coming along the road behind him forced Fool to step carefully back into the grass. The driver slowed the horses as he noticed the figure beside the road and leaned down as if he was speaking to someone within the carriage. "Whoa!" he told the horses as he pulled the reins and stopped near to the Fool.

An arm beckoned Fool closer from the window of the carriage. He made a step or two, just for show, but stayed well out of reach. He heard a low, throaty chuckle from within. "Not trusting of strangers met on the open road, are we?" a deep voice asked. "A good precaution, especially on this road." The speaker leaned partially out of the window and Fool could just make out the bearded chin and eyes that gleamed with a red glow from beneath the cover of a hooded cloak.

"This is the way to Castle Rollingrock, yes?"

Fool nodded and lit up one of his cigars. "Yeah, I believe so."

"Good...very good...I have business there. Would you like a ride? You may sit beside my driver." Fool nodded and stepped over to pull himself up onto the seat. The driver was slender and dressed in drab clothes that hid most of his physique to the less observant, but Fool marked him as being built like a man used to handling a carriage team and, possibly, of easily handling anyone who might try to waylay this coach.

The man nodded and said, "Woody, or so they call me."

"I'm just Fool. No other name fits me any longer."

Woody nodded again and snapped the reins. The horses took off and the coach set off once more. The men rode in silence. Fool pondering the odd passenger in the carriage behind him, and Woody thinking of whatever drivers think about during the quiet of the road.

And, within the carriage, the man with the burning eyes thought about the envelope he bore and how he might be rewarded for the information he brought his Mistress.

*******

"Well? Where are the next group of entertainers? Do I have all day for this?"

"No, my Lord, I am certain they are about to be here. They were preparing themselves just a short while ago." Belegon disliked not having things go his way. A lesser man might have been beside themselves, but the current Chamberlain of Castle Rollingrock was barely flustered. Perhaps his body language conveyed a bit more anxiety, or his voice held just that touch of trembling that comes from not biting one's tongue, but—compared to his predecessors (of which the official count was six, but there was always that time when Lord Remec had just returned from Somerland, and no one knew how many servants he'd had and lost then), he was doing remarkably well.

Lord Remec rose from his seat upon the dais at the far end of the audience chamber. "Preparing, you say? The usual suite?" He strode across the room as Belegon nodded, and headed down the hall to see what was holding things up.

The door to the suite was closed, and Remec paused for a moment. He shook off the passing sense of courtesy, gave the door a swift series of knocks, and then opened it. He stopped, speechless, as he took in the scene before him.

One of the castle's wenches was crouched on her hands and knees behind one of the performers. She lay with her body resting against the other woman's back and was in the process of nibbling her ears and neck. The other woman had her hands entwined in the hair of a male performer's head, holding him steady while they kissed.

As Remec watched, the male performer gave the wench a nudge. The wench leaned herself across the other woman's body and began folding down the edge of the gown the woman wore. As her larger than fist sized breasts came into view, Remec licked his lips at the sight of them and then bit his lower one as the male performer palmed them both and began alternating between squeezing them softly and rubbing his hands against the thick, hard nipples in a circular motion.

"Ahem."

The woman in the middle broke off the kiss to lazily look over the man's shoulder and meet Remec's eyes. "Milord," she said with a nod of her head. "Are we late for our audition? I'm afraid we got involved in a last bit of rehearsing." The wench giggled and turned her own bright eyes to Remec as well.

Remec swallowed to empty his salivating mouth and nodded. "Yes, yes you are. But, by all means, continue, we shall consider this to be your audition."

"And how are we doing, so far?" she asked as the man shifted down to fill his mouth with each breast in turn. She smiled at the way Lord Remec's pants were beginning to tent as he pulled a chair up close to the bed the trio lay on.

"Most impressive," he said.

Impressive laughed at the remark. "Your Lordship has heard of me, yes? Or was that merely a verbal coincidence? No matter." She shifted herself slightly on the bed to regard Remec directly and give her male companion better access to her bosom. "What would your Lordship like to see?" she asked as she brought her arm up to caress the side of the wench's face. She drew the woman's mouth to her and looked away from Remec for a moment. Remec considered his own desires as the women's tongues played together, and the male slid lower down still to fondle and adore Impressive's breasts while letting them be seen as much as possible.

"You," Remec answered.

With a tap to one tattooed shoulder, Impressive got the man to move and rose from the bed. She stepped closer to Remec, while the pair behind her continued auditioning. She regarded Remec up close and then smiled and shook the curls of her hair to refresh them from lying down. "All of me?" she asked.

Remec nodded. "Yes," he whispered.

Slowly, Impressive smoothed out the front and sides of her gown in one fluid motion. Her breasts sat high and firm, still exposed from the titshelf built into the dress. She slipped her hands beneath them for a moment, as if presenting them even more to Remec, and then tucked her fingers inside the edge of the gown and pulled the loose ties farther apart and shrugged the dress off her shoulders. As it fell to her hips, she removed each arm from its sleeve and then let the whole gown drop to a pile at her feet.

Behind her, the couple could just be made out disrobing as well, and the wench began lavishing kisses along the tattooed man's cock. She then turned sideways to Remec and knelt upon the bed. The man moved to press up against her ass and Remec could just hear the sound of the wench being penetrated.

They began rocking against one another, but Remec was only tangentially aware of them and their actions. His attention and focus was on the curvy body before him. Impressive turned to one side and then the other, showing off her profile to him, and then pirouetted to display her backside as well. Remec's breathing slowed as he drunk in all the facets of the pale performer, and he leaned back in his seat to subtly adjust the tension of his slacks against his cock.

"And? What next?" Impressive asked as she stopped showing off and stood squared up to Remec once more. As she had shifted about, she stepped from within her dress and kicked it off under the bed. She was confident she knew what he would say. In fact, confidence was readily apparent in all of her body language and even in her gaze, and drew Remec in as much, if not more than, the way she looked.

Remec stood up slowly. A slight sound at the doorway made him turn his head. Chamberlain Belegon was there. He bore a unusually worried look to his face. Remec arched an eyebrow as he found little that ever worried Belegon, and motioned to the man to be quick.

"Milord, a dark carriage has arrived. They have picked up a servant of Her Grace, Duchess Falling, who has a message for you. The passenger of the carriage has already gone to your sister's chambers." Chamberlain Belegon paused moment. "It was the Shadowed One."

"Lovely," sighed Remec. He turned back to Impressive and stepped close to her. "I am needed elsewhere. You will dine with me this evening?" He brushed a hand against her cheek and gazed into the swirling mix of brown and green of her eyes. He leaned in and gently kissed her lips, then turned to go.

Impressive laughed. "So, successful audition?"

Remec nodded. "Indeed."

******

Dripping water echoed down the long, dark hallway. It mingled with the sounds of low moans that reached Nosferatuness' keen ears, but came from somewhere beyond the range of even her vision. She sometimes wished the Mistress would let her wander about at will to explore all the tunnels, side passages, and chambers that Castle Rollingrock's lower levels held.

Much of it was dungeons, Nosferatuness knew, but not all. There were places where things happened that mutually benefited both parties involved. She'd participated in many such events at her Mistress' direction, but sometimes she just wanted to watch. The thought of quietly standing in the shadows to bear witness to what others might call an atrocity was a comforting image when her day had grown dull.

Nosferatuness had considered that the Mistress might very well be open to such a request, but it was not her place to make requests of Her in even the least of ways. So she walked where and when she was told to, and reveled in the delight at fulfilling Her wishes and commands. She especially loved tasks such as this evening's.

She stopped before a cell and rose to her tiptoes to peer through the small square of bars at the prisoner within. She smiled. Breaking the righteous was always such a pleasure. Her tongue flicked lightly over her lips and brushed itself against one of her fangs. Perhaps She would let me indulge myself for just a taste, she thought.

Inside the squalid room, a figure was chained to the far wall. He normally had the run of the entire cell, but the chains could be wound up so as to bind their wearer flat against the wall or hang them at an angle. This was how he was positioned currently. Arms above his head and slightly forward, but extended so as to leave his chest open. He was not naked, but his shirt was tattered and ripped down the center, while his pants had frayed cuffs and no crotch to cover his genitals.

"Who's there?" he asked. "I can sense your presence, you know. It does no good to pretend I am unaware of you." Nosferatuness ignored the question and wafted through the opening in the door. The man twitched as the inherent chill of her mist form briefly brushed over his skin and reached deep into his flesh. "I should have known it would be you. Are you the only tormentor here? What is your damn name?"

He turned his head at the slight shift in temperature as Nosferatuness reformed nearby. Silently, she reached out a single talon and ran it slowly down the inside of the man's thigh. A moan escaped his lips before he steeled himself and leaned his weight more firmly upon the chain holding him at an angle to the floor. The pressure of the steel cutting into his wrists helped clear his head.

Nosferatuness ran the finger back the other way on the man's skin. As she brushed her hand against his crotch, she opened it to let his sack rest in her palm. Squeezing, just a little, brought another sound of both desperation and desire from the prisoner.

It also roused his cock.

Contrary to what was expected, as Nosferatuness' cold breath enveloped the growing erection before her, it pulsed and bobbed and the prisoner could feel nothing but heat in his entire pelvic area—abdomen, groin, balls, shaft and cock head. Even the tops of his thighs felt warmer than before Nosferatuness had begun her work.

She smiled at the ease with which she had brought him to full hardness. Teasingly, she stroked his shaft with the edges of her talons and flicked her tongue across the purple tip as well as over the light coloured pressure lines the claws left behind on his cock. Mistress, she thought, is there more for me to do here?

High within the suite of rooms she enjoyed as a permanent guest of Castle Rollingrock, Nosferatuness' Mistress sat before what appeared to be an oversized wash basin. She gazed upon the waters before her and nodded to herself as the scene in the cell played out. Her minion was nothing if not talented. If not for the restriction placed on her by the Power she served, she would enjoy Nosferatuness' talons and tongue for her own pleasure.

"No," she said to the image before her. "Bring him to the edge several times, however you would like, and then return to me here." She picked up a fancily decorated envelope and turned it over in her hand to reread the writing upon it. "I believe I have another mission for you. And messages to carry."

As you wish, Nosferatuness thought back. She took the man's cock in her hand and began stroking it. He bit his lip and tried to draw himself back from her, but her grip was fast and not to be denied. He tried to summon up the picture of his beloved Katrina, but all that came to mind was the slight form and faceless curves that might as well been his torturer. He inwardly cursed himself as he felt himself about to come, when Nosferatuness stopped.

"Damn you!"

Nothing came in response besides a low giggle, and then the warming chill began anew as a tongue ran itself along one ear and a familiar talon slowly began tracing circles about a nipple. He moaned as his disappointed cock began rising once more.

*******

Remec shook his head and sighed as he walked briskly down the hall followed closely behind by the Chamberlain. It was bad enough that he was saddled with having his father's daughter in the castle, but to have to deal with all the assorted Dark creatures and beings that thought nothing of just dropping by to visit with her—or worse, give her oaths of fealty and do whatever perversion might pop into her little feline head—that was more than just the usual headache.

He reentered the audience chamber and found an old man sitting on one of the best chairs. He had a cigar in one hand and the other was inching its way beneath the short skirt of one of the ladies that seemed to always be about the court.

"Ooh, how exciting," Sarahh was saying. "And you came all this way by yourself?"

"Well, the Duchess of Florafawn wanted this message delivered, and I hate to see a lovely lady's desires go unfulfilled," The Fool answered. He shifted Sarahh a bit as she sat on his knee and brought his face perilously close to her bosom. He blinked as if to reassure himself he wasn't dreaming, and leaned his face against Sarahh's chest. Fool gave a pleasing sort of sigh and let his hand fondle the noblewoman's bottom under her skirt.

"Have you any unfulfilled desires, milady?"

Sarahh squirmed a bit, trying to make the most of the hand and fingers beneath her, and tried to catch her breath enough to speak. "Oooh...do I," was all she managed to get out however before she noticed Remec and the Chamberlain in the doorway.

"Oh! My Lord Remec! I was just...um...." Sarahh's face reddened slightly as she tried to regain her feet without losing any of her gown to the Fool's fingers. Remec laughed and shook his head, motioning Sarahh to remain where she was.

"I can see quite well what you were just," Remec said. "It seems my day to be interrupting people who were just, or being interrupted—as the case may be." He glanced back to Belegon and then to Fool. "You must be the messenger I was told of. And quite a man of words you are to have our Lady Sarahh in hand so soon."

The Fool shrugged. "Sometimes I manage a good turn of phrase, so I've been told, but I am merely a Fool spouting foolish things." He sat up more properly in the chair (the motion bringing Lady Sarahh's bottom away from his hand and up against his lap. Fool cleared his throat to cover any other noise he might make as his lap flexed at the touch of the flesh resting on it.

"I bear an invitation for your Lordship from Her Grace, Duchess Falling of Florafawn, to attend a gathering of notable personages for drink, feasting, dancing, and whatever else may come to pass," Fool told Remec as he produced the gilded envelope from one of his pockets. He held it out and Remec motioned for the Chamberlain to get it.

Remec took the envelope, opened it, and scanned the note within. "Lady Sarahh, if it would not be too troubling for you to leave us gentlemen alone that we may speak with...Fool...about his trip and other items of note?"

Sarahh rose slowly from her seat and bowed deeply to Remec. "Not at all your Lordship. Chamberlain, Fool..." she curtsied to the others and began to leave. As she backed up beyond Remec and the Chamberlain's sight, she mouthed to Fool, "Later?" To which The Fool smiled and nodded. Sarahh left the audience chamber beaming.

"Now then," Remec began, "tell us about the carriage that picked you up? I am especially interested in anything its passenger might have said about their purpose here in the castle."

As the gentlemen began their talk, Lady Sarahh made her way down the hall and tried to decide what outfit might be best to wear that evening for the feasting. No feast had yet been announced, but with a messenger from a duchess in the castle at the same time that Her Ladyship had noble company visiting, it was a likely event. She had just about made up her mind on one of the more relaxed gowns she owned—a mid-calf piece from Draugia that swayed when she walked, even more when she danced, and was easily hiked up or removed if anything should develop that required a gown to function so—when she became aware of a series of moans, low thumps, and rough breathing from a room up ahead of her.

She approached the chamber cautiously, prepared to scream out if need be. Within she saw one of the castle servants lying upon a bed with a woman between her thighs and a well defined, tattooed man slowly pushing his cock in and out of her mouth. Sarahh's eyes grew wide even as her hands were undoing the ties of her gown and her feet were carrying her into the room and sliding back to shut the door.

The sound of the door moving made the trio glance towards it, and the wench freed her mouth to welcome the newcomer. "Hello, milady. I'd curtsy if I could, you know me," she said. Sarahh laughed as she knelt to join Impressive.