The Temptress Ch. 03

Slowly at first, the maiden-become-woman started humping up and down on the prick stuffed in her cleft. As she increased her speed, the conscious-stealing blackness retreated and a warm flush spread throughout her body. Despite the pleasant breeze from the open window and the cool temperatures that were the harbinger of Leafturn, to Dedria it felt as if it was the middle of Highsun. Small beads of sweat dotted her brow and bathed her in a soft glaze of moisture, her breaths coming in pants as she continued humping up and down on Trelat's cock.

While her cousin got the first real fuck of her life, Ciji was hardly content to sit idly by and let her own desires go unfulfilled. She too wanted to experience, the expert tonguing Dedria had enjoyed just minutes before. Straddling Trelat's face, but still facing Dedria, Ciji lowered her dripping pussy onto the bard's waiting mouth. Almost immediately she felt his tongue probing deep within her. What a difference experience makes! she thought as her eyes rolled back in their sockets from pure delight. When she could once more see straight, Ciji watched Dedria as she bounced ever harder up and down on Trelat's prong. Dedria's face was contorted in a mixture of relief, determination, and concentration. Ciji could not help but wonder if she would be wearing a similar face when it was her turn.

Meanwhile, Trelat was thoroughly enjoying providing a double helping of pleasure to
his young lovers. In the hamlet of Solneagles, a mere speck on most any map located half
way between Stellof and Janda (and Trelat's most recent stop), the bard was entreated to
the simultaneous affections of a local farmer's wife and two daughters but was interrupted
by the man's unexpected early arrival home from town. But such were his risks in being so
ardent of a lover---along with the minor concern about becoming the unknowing father to
unexpected children. Of course, Trelat often reminded himself, that's why the gods made
the unique properties of maiden weed and gentleman's wort known to us. Why, without
them, we 'd have probably been up to our armpits in people centuries ago. A somewhat
impatient moan from the young lady sitting on his face and gyrating wildly brought Trelat's
attention back to what he was doing.

Though perfectly content to enjoy her ride atop Trelat's magnificent erection, when Ciji started caressing her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and tonguing her mouth, Dedria found herself rising to ever-increasing heights of blissful rapture. It was not long before she was returning Ciji's touch, loving their familiar intimacy. Dedria was also feeling a deep aching building within her pussy, punctuated with every lunge from below. As her breath became shorter and shorter, she knew an extremely intense orgasm was fast approaching and it would only be a matter of several more wonderful thrusts before she would succumb.

The young Lady Keitra was about to cum. Grinding her snatch even faster and harder against Trelat's mouth, she hoped to hasten the onset of her climax to match her cousin's timing as well as the master bard's.

Even though Trelat knew he could hold out for sometime yet, the accommodating bard decided it would be to his shame if he did so. Who was he to deprive so willing a pair of lovers of a feeling of completeness he could provide? Of course, fucking into a nice, tight snatch like Dedria's was a definite help.

* * * *

Irala felt as though her nipples were on fire as Snaggit's hands massaged her breasts but left their very tips untouched. She strove to meet each one of his upward thrusts, which were coming in rapid-fire succession, with a downward one of her own. Reaching down with a free hand, Irala diddled her stiff love bud. The burning turned into a deep, longing need, crying out for satisfaction.

With each stroke, Snaggit could feel the slight pressure in his groin growing just a little stronger and more urgent for release. He knew what he was doing to Irala probably felt a lot like torture but he wanted to wait for just the right moment before adding to her already heightened pleasure. Besides, he thought, she does like it when I do it like this.

* * * *

A final, deep thrust from Trelat was all it took to push Dedria over the orgasmic edge. Her head was swimming and her whole body shook and spasmed as she came atop Trelat's rock-hard cock. A veritable deluge of pussy juice bathed her lover's member with liquid love and was making a delightful squishing sound. She had never felt so sexually complete and fulfilled before Dedria wanted the feeling to last forever though she knew it would not. Her young body tingled all over and the light breeze blowing in through the window only served to intensify the glowing sensation sweeping through her.

But the former maiden was not alone in reaching the heights of ecstasy.

Trelat held his final stroke as he felt his manhood tense up just before it exploded inside the oh-so-willing cunt he was fucking. As the first jet of his cum shot deep into Dedria, he felt her snatch ripple and grab at his prick. Ahhhhh! he mentally sighed as he kept pushing his tongue into Ciji's quim, sensing that her orgasm was fast-approaching. There's nothing like perfect timing.

Right on cue, the young Lady Keitra climaxed on the talented tongue delving into her wet slit, drenching Trelat's mouth and chin. Ciji gave her cousin's nipples a harder tweak when she realized Dedria was cumming too and was more than delighted when she received the same in return. Suddenly feeling a deep pang of love for Dedria, Ciji leaned forward and kissed her, slipping her tongue into her mouth.

Dedria and Ciji rode Trelat a little longer before the trio cuddled together on the bed, sexually spent for the moment. The bard applied his usual charm as he quietly wooed the love-struck pair, telling them how impressed he was with them and how skilled they were, as well as how good he felt about them choosing him to be Dedria's first male lover. Still blinded by their infatuation with him, the pair just drank in his praise and sighed, dreaming wistfully that more than just a lusty night of fantastic sex would come of their union.

Trelat felt no guilt about what he was telling his young lovers. And why should he? It had long been his experience that all women—no matter the race—needed to hear how well they pleased their lovers just as much as men and holding them close let them feel as if they were as loved as a lifemate would be.

If even for a little while.

It was not long before their tender embrace became further foreplay heralding another session of coupling. The trio remained occupied in their carnal pursuits far into the night, until the midnight blue in the east had faded to just a deep blue, with dawn only a couple of hours away.

* * * *

In their suite, Snaggit and Irala had long since succumbed to blissful slumber, unaware of what the new day would bring.

* * * *

The late morning suns were shining brightly, their rays streaming through the open, and seemingly unprotected, window of Trelat's room and warming the sleeping troubadour. In his dreams, Trelat was vividly revisiting his amorous evening with Ciji and Dedria, as well as conjuring up images of pleasures yet to be explored with them.

"Trelat," a voice called out to him.

"Mmmmm?" the bard hummed as he rolled over onto his side then mumbled, "Yes, my dear?" It was only when his searching arm found an empty space where one of his young lovers should have been that he began to stir to wakefulness.

“Trelat Sylvain!” the voice said again, demanding to be heard.

Why am I being addressed so formally? Trelat wondered sleepily. With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes just wide enough to see. Observing no one to his right, the bard rolled to his left, still seeking his paramours from last evening. But, instead of his ladies, he found only more emptiness---and a surprise visitor standing barely an arm's length away from the bed. Startled, Trelat sat up bolt-right. It only took a few moments for his still sleep-hazed mind to register three interesting facts about the person before him.

First, the richly brown-skinned woman was completely naked. A true vision of beauty were the first words Trelat could think of to describe her. Her exquisite figure seemed to be the very definition of womanhood. Natural, loosely curling raven tresses cascaded just over her firm, round shoulders, serving to only further accentuate her loveliness.

But any thoughts Trelat may have had of bedding this newcomer were pushed into the recesses of mind when the second fact about her became apparent: she was just an image. While still a sight, Trelat realized her body was as translucent as a ghost. Magical projections of this nature were hardly rare and were frequently used by powerful spellcasters as a means of communication since it provided them with a comfortable measure of safety and security, for them and their magetowers. Normally, a personal confrontation with such a powerful sorceress would have made Trelat exceptionally nervous, but it was her familiar face that put him at immediate ease.

And that was the third thing.

"Greetings, Dyanara," Trelat said with a smile. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Are they near?" the sorceress asked, not wanting to waste any of her spell's duration on pleasantries.

"'And good day to you, Trelat,'" the bard replied to himself in a female tone before he responded to her inquiry. "And, yes, they're not far from here, though what they're doing at the moment I can't say." Trelat's eyebrows furrowed as a question came to him. "Can your spell follow me---without being so noticeable?"

"Yes, but you'll have to be quick about it."

"Oh, just keep your. . ." Trelat began as he got out of bed before he realized the irony of his comment. "Never mind." Throwing on some casual attire, he dressed as quickly as he could and was putting his second shoe on as Dyanara's image shooed him to the door. Opening the door slightly, Trelat took a cautious peek into the hallway. Seeing that it was clear, he turned to motion his sorceress friend to follow but was surprised when instead of her naked form standing behind him there was only a small, softly glowing ball of greenish blue light floating at eye-level. Trelat cocked an eyebrow in response, closed his mouth, then motioned for it/her to follow.

The bard's casual gate down the corridor betrayed none of the feelings tumbling around in the pit of his stomach. While it was not unusual for Dyanara to use her magic to deliver messages to her absent friends, most often she used either self-reading scrolls or what she identified as one of her "helper spirits", depending on the urgency of the situation. Never had she sent an image of herself to convey one "personally".

Until now.

The implications were disturbing. But Trelat had neither the time or the desire to consider them as his course quickly brought him to his intended destination. He hesitated for only a moment before knocking on the door to Lord Gainstan Glits' suite. Not wanting to compromise his friend's dual identity, Trelat continued the charade already in place.

"My lord?" he said in a moderate and cautious tone. "Please forgive the intrusion, but may I beg a moment of your time?" For what seemed to be half an eternity there was only silence. Trelat wondered if they had already departed since such had happened previously on several occasions. But a grunt and a loud yawn from within assured the bard that this was not going to be another one of those times.

"Who is it?" demanded a muffled but clearly irritated voice. "And what do you want at such an early time of day?"

"It is I, Trelat Sylvain, my lord. Again, I regret my trespass but I found milady's blue robe in the bath and wanted to return it to her." Trelat hoped his emphasis on those three words would not be lost on Lord Glits.

He need not have worried.

"Oh, alright. Enter, but be quick about it!"

His friends' quarters were equally capacious and luxurious as his but such details hardly mattered at the moment. Reclining against a pile of pillows were two of his long-time companions and fellow adventurers. From the look of things, Trelat could tell that he had nearly barged in on them while they would have been otherwise occupied. The steady up and down motion of Irala's hand under the covers was all the proof he needed of that.

"And where is this blue robe?" Snaggit inquired, noting the lack of the same.

Undaunted, Trelat took a half step to the side. "Right here."

Suddenly revealed, the tiny ball of light that had been hidden behind the bard was gone and in its place stood Dyanara's image. Snaggit and Irala's surprise to the sorceress being there was at least as great as Trelat's had been---once his mind had had a chance to clear the remaining cobwebs away and realize what was going on.

"Brightday, dear friends," Dyanara began with a smile as she took a few paces toward the bed, followed closely by Trelat. However, in a heartbeat, the sorceress's smile was no more and she continued on in a very somber tone. "My spell's time is short and I have so much to tell you that any questions you may have must wait until I am finished." Taking a breath, Dyanara plunged into the ugly details of her vision.

"It all started the day after my robe ceremony on Steeshata. . ."

* * * *

The money bags containing the day's revenue jingled heavily in Psalmanazar's grasp as he opened the concealed and protected coffer in the wall of his small bedchamber located in the Silent Lady's basement. While no one would probably have currently believed it of him, in his younger days Psalmanazar had also been a thief. However, fifteen years of retirement saw his formerly lean and wiry frame gain almost seventy stones---though not a bit of it was fat. The innkeeper's barrel-like body was every bit as solid as a plow horse and his muscular arms were almost as big as his legs had been in his younger days, and all due to his everyday activities around the inn. This made it equally hard to imagine him as being a former thief (aside from the Lady's slightly higher-than-usual prices). Psalmanazar's thick, bushy, graying beard stood out in sharp contrast to his continually receding hair line. His rich brown eyes always seemed to sparkle whenever a new guest checked in and was always accompanied by a warm and generous smile. Likewise, his baritone voice rarely held any anger, unless he was dealing with a particularly rude or very disruptive visitor. Fortunately, trouble at the Lady was rare at the worst, if for no other reason than Psalmanazar's sheer size. His retirement years had been kind to the man and he was content with his current life and livelihood.

But Psalmanazar would always be a thief at heart.

As the small door swung open, his ever-keen eyes noticed a small green painted dot exposed through a small hole in the back of the box where a black one should have been. He immediately dropped the sacks of coins onto his bed as if they were unimportant. Pressing on the corners of the back wall in a specific sequence, it clicked then leaned inward, revealing yet another concealed compartment. Within it sat three more bags of money, though one was a little fuller than the other two. Psalmanazar opened the spring-loaded doors above the catch box to see if there was any more up there before removing the contents. A gentle draft wafted down through the long shaft's opening, betraying how the obviously ill-gotten money had found its way into his possession. Satisfied that there was no more, the thief-turned-innkeeper reset the panel.

While he did not encourage his former colleagues to steal from his guests during either of their stays at the Lady, neither did Psalmanazar really do anything to stop them from doing so. It was just understood that he received one-fifth of their take in return for providing them with the opportunity for some relatively easy pickings. Over the years, he had tried various drop methods but none worked as well as the Chute, which worked just as it sounded it would. To smooth things over if a patron was plucked too clean, the cost for that guest's room and meals would be waived and an extra long stay in a suite or an equal line of credit in the gambling hall would be offered to the injured party. The latter always proved to be the more tempting option though almost all so taken in by the lure of "free money" left with as much as they had started with: little or nothing.

By the way the drawstrings were knotted, Psalmanazar knew that at least three of his guests had been peers but the note he found in the largest bag was a bit of a surprise. He opened it carefully, half-expecting it to be some kind of trick or trap. Instead, it just read:

Greetings Nazar,

Enjoyed my stay. . .

As usual, here's your cut of my take plus a little extra for the guild. . .

I'll see you next time I'm in town. . .

Snag

For several minutes, all Psalmanazar could do was sit there and stare unbelievably at the short message, his jaw hanging open.

Then he smiled and started to laugh, softly at first then as if having a fit.

Oh, yes, you will, Snaggit, Psalmanazar thought as his mind raced trying to determine which one of his guests his "old friend" had been while he rubbed the stump where his left pinky finger used to be. Oh, yes you will!!