tagSci-Fi & FantasyFeldare Tales: High Society Ch. 02

Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 02


Master Marrat had made her show him the place where she had dallied with the Coghlander. He examined the alley closely, then began etching small magical symbols about the place, on stones and into wood.

"What are you doing?" asked Crissa, watching with interest.

He looked back at her. "Making this a safe place for you," replied Marrat.

Crissa rolled her eyes. "Great, so you'll put wards everywhere I have a liaison?"

The old wizard shook his head. "No, just the places where you are likely to have another."

She looked about. "You really think I intended to come down here?"

Marrat nodded. "Yes. The way you described the events, you did choose this alley, at least some part of you did," he explained.

The apprentice gave a great sigh. "Okay," she conceded. She sat upon the same crate she had sat upon before. Faintly, she could hear her cries of passion as the Coghlander rammed his thick pole into her on the barrel and she felt herself growing wet again. "Master Marrat, I hate this."

He nodded. "Until you can control yourself, I imagine you will," he replied. He turned his wrinkled face to her. "Give yourself time, girl, and remember, you're young, you are supposed to be enjoying dalliances and such now."

"I know," said Crissa, unconvincingly. "But, I hate hurting Wenn."

Marrat nodded. "I know you do, dear, and he knows you don't like it, either, and that is why he will, ultimately, forgive you."

This memory flowed through her mind briefly as she laid herself over the barrel, with Charel looming behind her and between her long, slim thighs. The memory faded quickly as he plunged his cock into her tight opening. He moaned at the warm sensation of her welcoming entrance and she moaned acceptance of him and at the wash of lust and happiness that washed over her.

The barrel creaked in protest again, rocking as he thrust into her. She was lying upon her belly this time, and he took her from behind. Not her rear entrance, but that debauched thought had entered her mind as he pushed into her. Wenn, alone, had taken her thus, entering her tighter and more forbidden hole. Crissa wondered how long that would be the case.

Charel was her sixth partner since coming to Norboro, four months ago, not including Wenn. They had all been brief affairs, no more than a few nights, and more often, one. She felt herself growing close to her climax, and began to concentrate in earnest upon the sex she was taking part in now, though it was not exceptional.

Charel was a competent lover, make no mistake, but he was not an incredible one. As he drove into her, she started eagerly meeting his thrusts and gripped his forearms for leverage. "Harder," she commanded Charel

He did his best, she knew, and redoubled his efforts. Soon she cried out as the pleasure overtook her, his own orgasm feeding hers to fullness. There was one distinct advantage to being a empath, she decided, if she was only near to orgasm, sensing her partner's climax almost invariably finished hers, as well.

He lay upon her for a long moment, and she enjoyed the feeling of being lain upon, the secure and protective weight upon her back. His cock still twitched within her. She quietly hoped he would swell for another erection and take her again.

This did not happen, though, his organ continued to soften and finally slipped from her tight cunt. Charel helped her to stand and pulled up his pants. "Wow, I didn't expect that," he said. She felt a wave of smug self-assuredness wash over her from him. He thinks he is just that good, does he?

Crissa nodded. "I never beat around the bush when I want a man to bed me," she said. "Never have before, and never will in the future."

This comment, while answering his statement, also dismantled some of that self regard he was building about himself like a bastion wall. There was still a firm foundation, though. "It's also very private," she added conversationally as she adjusted her skirt and half top. "I screamed bloody murder with the last man, for hours, and no one even came to see what was going on."

There goes the last course of base stones, she thought and kissed him. No, good sir, you were good, but not the best, don't get illusions in your head and I may let you go for another ride.

He looked a bit disconcerted with her frank discussion of past lovers, but quickly recovered. "Well, it was certainly pleasurable for me, thank you for accepting me to you," said Charel.

Much better, thought Crissa, a bit of humility goes a long way. She pressed her body to him and kissed him passionately. "Next time, then?" she asked and promised in three words. "Do you frequent that tavern?"

"Yes," he replied, "most nights for at least one beer."

She took his arm and started walking him out of the alley. "Then I shall know where to find you, hmm?" said Crissa.

They walked through town by the foggy and dull illumination of oil lamps located at the intersections of main streets. He stopped before Marrat's home, having escorted her to the house. "Thank you again, for a grand evening, Crissa."

Crissa smiled broadly. "Thank you for the same, Charel, it was very pleasant." With that, she turned and entered the house.


"By the One, Wenn," Shanelle said as she sat up, smiling. "If a kiss can cause me to release thus, then imagin. . . ."

She interrupted herself at what she was about to say.

"I have given it thought," said Wenn. "And when I find a young woman willing to help me learn more of that, I will then know and let you know."

She turned her nearly black eyes to him. "In a way, we've made love already," said Shanelle. "I mean, you've made me climax, three times."

Wenn nodded and kept still his tongue.

"Would you think me forward if I suggested we try your experiment?" she asked.

"Not at all," replied Wenn. "I would consider it a great honor to have such a beautiful test subject."

Shanelle giggled. "Then come," she said, rising from the bench and taking his hand. She pulled him down the dock and up the stairs back to the cobbled streets of Norboro.

He soon found himself inside a small home, inside the foyer and moving up the stairs to the second floor. "Where are we?" asked Wenn.

Shanelle said, "My employer's wife's home. They normally rent it out, but they are between tenants."

As the couple slipped into the bedroom, he noted that the room was furnished. "Must be expensive to rent," he commented.

She smiled. "It is," they are letting me stay here until new tenants move in, so that there is someone keeping an eye on the place. "I hope they never find suitable renters."

They embraced and kissed for a long moment. "Are you going to cast the spell again?" she asked, smiling.

"Once we've begun, else we may never get that far," replied Wenn, truthfully. He moved his hands over the bare sides and back of the elven dress she wore and she moaned slightly as his hands rubbed the soft, smooth skin. At the center of her back was the knot that held the entire dress on. He pulled one of the ears and it came undone with no problems.

Shanelle giggled as she stepped back and the dress fell from her body. Only a loincloth decorated her now, tied about her waist with a leather thong. She watched him kick off his boots, and then stepped in to help him take off his shirt and pants. She glanced down at his swelling rod. "I am a lucky girl," she said, smiling.

He untied her loincloth and found her to be a follower of elven fashion overall, for she had shaved her pubic hair off, and expertly so. When he ran his hand over her mound as he suckled on one of her breasts, he could not even feel stubble.

She groaned as he slid two fingers into her sopping wet slit. She produced far more lubricant than Crissa, he found, and saw that her thighs, even, glistened with the stuff. Or might that be an aftereffect of the spell from earlier?

The apprentice baker gave him a long look as she pulled him toward the bed with both hands. "Cast your spell after you enter me," she said.

"Of course," replied Wenn as she pulled him atop her then they kissed as she guided his cock to her opening. As her wetness suggested, he slid in with no effort and she grunted in pleasure as he found her depths.

"I don't know that I. . . ." she began to say.

Then, for her, the world melted away. It was replaced by the pleasure and joy of a full cunt, magnified many fold. She suddenly was her vagina, and nothing else in the universe mattered. She screamed right off, an orgasm tearing through her like a gale through a forest. Wenn pulled forth and pushed into her again and she screamed again, and again, she her entire body was seized with paralysis now, and she could not move. Fingernails were dug into the sheets, and Wenn heard them rip as she climaxed again. He feared she would faint, so casting feverishly again, he used the spell on himself.

The next morning, the sun warmed his backside as he lay upon the balcony floor, overlooking the street below. A wagon trundled past and he looked about blearily at the rising sun. "Wow," said Wenn. He crawled back through the open door to the bedroom they had been in. Shanelle lay upon the floor, her groin covered in drying semen almost to her knees. She was curled in her sleep and he smiled to see she was fine. He barely remembered last night after he cast the spell, just ecstasy.

He lay himself before her and touched her brow, more of his spend had dried there, and in her hair. He looked down and saw that he had a good deal of it on himself, too. That must have been fun, but I wish I could remember it, he thought idly. His cock felt raw and well-worn.

Shanelle opened her eyes slowly, fluttering them. "Good morrow, Wenn," she said, a smile coming to her lips. She moved slightly and groaned. "By the One, I believe you tried to kill me," she added, grinning. "Not that it would be a bad way to die."

She sat up. "I have to get to the bakery," she said. "I had permission to come in late today, but I'll not be paid, either."

Wenn nodded. As she rose to her knees there was a splash as a huge volume of semen spilled onto the floor from her well-worn vagina. She grinned sheepishly at it. "Wow, Wenn, did you ever spend well last night."

He simply stared at the spreading pool of come and shook his head. "Amazing," said Wenn, then stood up. He put on his shirt and saw his pants on the headboard of the bed. Leaning over the bed he placed one hand in the center to hold himself up and felt his hand sink into wetness. The bed was soaked.

Shanelle looked at him as he looked at his hand then she giggled. "That would explain why I'm very thirsty this morn."

"I think, maybe, one of us should refrain from using that spell in the future," Wenn said, eyeing the semen still running down Shanelle's thigh as she walked to the washbasin. She had an odd gait as she walked. "Did you pull a muscle?" he asked.

"Unless you consider my butt hole a muscle, no," Shanelle said. "And I will not ask why my throat hurts, for I fear the answer will trouble me for weeks." She was slipping on her dress now and said, "Aren't you supposed to go to the Academy this day?"

Wenn nodded. "But not until the fourth bell."

Shanelle kissed him. "Well, then you let yourself out when you're ready, I must go," she said, and then whispered into his hear, "Please call on me later at the bakery, so we can arrange another date."


Crissa was clearing breakfast as Wenn came into the house. He had kept the presence of mind to clean up before leaving Shanelle's borrowed home.

"I see you spent the night to your profit," quipped Crissa as Wenn foraged for some fruit from the cupboard.

Old Marrat looked at her askance. "Crissa," he said in a warning tone. She bit off her words before she could utter more, turning back to the dishes. Wenn helpfully joined in, even if he had not partaken of the meal.

Crissa leaned toward him and sniffed. "You smell of another woman," she whispered.

Wenn looked at her with a worried expression.

"Don't worry, it arouses me," she said, smiling broadly, "I shall have to remark you later with my own scent." Her mind felt the guilty stink evaporate from him, replaced by an oddly scented sense of worry.

Wenn chuckled at that then felt a twinge of fear thinking about trying to use his worn cock again so soon. He would do so for Crissa, even if it hurt him, he knew.

Suddenly, Wenn noticed she was wearing the elven outfit he had bought her. "You're going to wear that to the Academy?" he asked, his eyes going wide.

Crissa nodded, sending a broad smile to him even as his pleasure at her clothing selection for the day flowed over her. "I don't wish to embarrass you," she explained.

She felt affection well up in him as he said. "You never embarrass me, angel," said Wenn, "I just wish you to show off the assets the One blessed you with."

"Well, today, at least, I will," she said with a broad grin. "And, if I find the reaction to it favorable, perhaps we will have to go shopping for more.

"No cloth?" he asked, looking down at her skirt. Absent were the typical ends of the long loincloth normally worn with this sort of skirt.

She shrugged. "I've never worn undergarments, and do not intend to start now," explained Crissa. "If it offends some, they will simply have to cope, won't they?"

"You'll not hear me complain," said Wenn, grinning. "I hear many girls don't wear their cloths outwardly. They have them sewn into the skirt invisibly. They just WANT the boys to think they wear no undergarments."

Crissa bumped him with her hip. "Then the lads will have a pleasant surprise when they see up my skirt, no?" she asked.

Marrat muttered something about 'kids today' as he shuffled out of the kitchen toward the study.

Wenn and Crissa spent the next hour preparing for their first day at the Academy. Once ready, they headed for the bell tower that rose above most of Norboro. The Academy was really a small walled compound, where most of the students lived in dormitories on the campus. However, the couple found themselves surrounded by other students walking toward the entry gate. The others all wore sashes of differing colors, some white, some blue, with a precious few green and black. The sashes indicated grade, with the youngest students wearing the white ones.

They started to walk through the gate a girl, wearing a white sash, moved from beside it and intercepted them. She was shorter than Crissa by almost a head and had her hair cropped in a haircut reminiscent of Abian soldiery. "Crissa and Wenn?" she asked as she got close enough to be heard over the various people beginning to talk in little groups as they met up with friends and acquaintances upon entering the gate.

They stopped and watched her close the last few feet. "Yes," Crissa said while Wenn looked about them.

"I'm Peris," the girl said. "I've been assigned to show the two of you around and get you acquainted with the Academy." She smiled broadly at the two, but Crissa thought the smile she favored Wenn with was fractionally larger and a bit warmer, too.

Crissa nodded. "We were worried about that," she said seriously. "We weren't even sure where to go right now."

Peris giggled. "I understand. This place can be rather daunting at first." She looked about herself at the dozens of milling folk who were slowly working their way toward the large building that formed the base for the tall bell tower. "I've got your class assignments and hours," she announced and held out two pieces of paper. "They're the same as mine, actually. That's why I was selected."

Wenn smiled at her. "I thought, perhaps, it was because you were so pretty," he said. Crissa fought back a flash of jealousy and felt a wave of pleasure come from Peris which caused her to have to clench her fists and tighten her jaw to keep from showing her dislike of the situation.

Peris blushed slightly. "Well," she said, rubbing her neck. "Thanks?" She thought a long moment. "I would have thought you two, being from the same town and all, and living in the same home. . . ." She let the thought drift off.

"We are really just friends," said Wenn hastily.

Crissa cast an askance look at Wenn and added, "Who happen to share a bed."

Peris blinked at this display of jealousy in so-called 'friends,' then shrugged. "I'll leave that for you two to discuss," she said diplomatically. "However, as I have been assigned to acquaint you two with the campus and with your classes and such. I do hope we can all be friends." She favored the two of them with a look of earnest hopefulness and Crissa felt that hope impact her mind so cleanly that she could not help but like the girl.

"I'm sure we will," said Crissa. She noted that Peris was wearing an outfit of similar cut to her own and with almost the same shade of green. "We must, for we both share the same tailor."

Peris grinned at that, eyeing Crissa's skirt and half-top. "I see that," she said.

Wenn blinked and his jaw hung slack as he watched Crissa take credit for his clothing selection, but kept his tongue still. The keeping silent was easy, especially after the caustic look Crissa flashed at him when his jaw fell open. He clamped it shut.

The shorter girl with the brown hair held out pieces of white cloth to the two of them. "Your sashes, as first year students, or the equivalent thereof," she said.

Wenn and Crissa slipped the sashes over their shoulder, as Peris wore hers. She had several small symbols embroidered upon hers, but theirs were bare. "What are those for?" asked Crissa, eyeing the little symbols.

"Awards for achievement and completion," said Peris, looking down. "That one," she pointed to one of the symbols, "was for mastering the rules of etiquette regarding titled nobility." Then she laughed. "Most of the others are for equally important things of earth-shattering moment."

She's got a sense of humor, Wenn thought, very nice.

Crissa cast him another sidelong look as she felt the low-level wave of desire emanate from Wenn, directed at Peris. She smiled inwardly at this display of unbridled emotion from her partner. Sometimes, she liked how it felt to see him desire others.

Peris escorted them to a small chamber filled with smaller desks and chairs. They peered through the cracked door. "This is mathematics studies," said Peris. "Our first class, normally, of the day." Inside, they saw a bald man, wearing spectacles pointing to a drawing upon a large black board at chalk symbols. Wenn recognized them right off, as he used them in his magical formulae. Crissa shook her head.

"I know nothing of mathematics," she said.

"That is why there is a class, to teach you," explained Peris. "It's not my strongest subject, either."

As they moved down the corridor toward another of their classes a chime rang out, and a few moments later, students in their colorful sashes began filling the halls, moving form one classroom to another. Crissa's eyes grew wide at the sight of so many folk in such a confined area and began to breathe heavily. Luckily, most were concentrating on their tasks at hand, and she was not overborne by a wave of emotion as they moved about her in a milling mass.

Two young men in black sashes stopped before the trio, smiling. "Hello, newlings," the burlier of the two said, a youth in his early twenties with light brown hair and narrow blue eyes.

Peris said, "Good morrow, Seniors Lentan and Cherle," and nodded elven-style toward them.

"Rumor has it that you newlings are responsible for Irvin and Waddens being chucked out of the Academy," the one Peris had called Lentan said. "Being sorcerers and all."

Wenn blinked. "I've no idea what you're talking about," he said.

Crissa nodded agreement. "We don't even know who those folk are."

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