Cadwarra put down her quill and relaxed a moment, glad to finally have her food order for the expedition to Thundering Steppes all sorted out.
She got up from the dining room table. She would drop the grocery list off to Voleen’s tomorrow since she had another obligation to prepare for. As often happens when you are a mistress, there had only been a short notice of a social event she needed to attend that evening. Uncle Triander required a plus one. “Fairwick dinners are always fun” his note had assured her. “Wear something sexy.”
Normally, Cadwarra would not have minded Uncle Triander having the use of her for an evening but the Marshall should have gotten that nude picture of her by now. She had anticipated he would have come by for a pleasant hour in her bed last night. Neither had she gotten any indication he would be coming by tonight. She was hurt that Vishra must have not liked her picture. She had done the pose because she thought he would.
Cadwarra consoled herself that a dinner party might cheer her up. She wandered into her bedroom to pick ‘something sexy’ for Uncle Triander. Looking at her Clothspinner dresses, she reflected that she could not do anything but wear something sexy.
There was a polite knock on the front door, which was for once refusing to let the caller in automatically.
It was Samandra’s day off and Kivan was in Willow Wood with Zanhass, probably doing repeated honour to Tunare. Amber had left just after breakfast. Being alone in the apartment, Cadwarra opened the door herself. It was that oversexed courier, Baltazar. He had a package for her.
Bored, Cadwarra invited him to enter while she examined her parcel. She pulled off the wrapping to find a large box with the Clothspinner logo emblazoned all over. She was vain enough to wish it had not been covered in brown paper. She would have liked her neighbours to see she was getting a delivery from Clothspinner & Co. She quickly chided herself, realizing how vain that was.
Pulling off the boxlid, she was delighted to find a new dress. She held it up, proudly showing it off to Baltazar since he was the only other person in the flat.
It looked very expensive, trimmed out with the same silver brocade as her cloak. There was a polite note from Master Daniel “Greetings, Lady Cadwarra. Our Firm hopes you like the enclosed garment. It is provided to you as a token of our esteem and therefore will not be reflected in the Vishra accounts.”
Cadwarra supposed that this was more of these puzzling gifts from Humans just for indulging Tunare with them. Or was it a bribe? Perhaps Master Daniel was still uneasy about his sexual trespass with Cadwarra the day of the nude sketches. She wondered what kind of gift Master Daniel would have sent her if she had actually let him screw her. Not that she would do that, of course.
“I do hope it is the right size” Baltazar cautioned. “I can wait while you try it on in case I need to return it.”
Baltazar had never in his career ever delivered a Clothspinner of the incorrect size. He was just hoping Lady Cadwarra was in the mood for another type of ‘delivery’ and that he would have the honour of making said ‘delivery’. Surely Lady Cadwarra would willingly bed a fellow Wood Elf.
To his delight, Cadwarra agreed to try on the dress while he waited. She had her own reasons for doing so. She wanted to wear this new dress to the Fairwick dinner and decided she should confirm it was sexy enough to meet Uncle Triander’s standards. Baltazar would be her test subject.
Baltazar was disappointed that Cadwarra changed in her room with the door closed. She maybe was one of those little teases that expected him to try his luck with a lockset that may or may not bar access to her room as she changed naked. In his experience, nude girls home alone usually loved the thrill of having a male barge into her room uninvited; enjoying the ravishing she was ‘forced’ to ‘endure’.
Unfortunately there were times when a girl had been most displeased with him doing that and he had needed to hastily back off. Lady Cadwarra might be one such prudish type. He decided he best not try the door. One did not take chances like that with a Lady that was known to have killed fifty Gnolls in one day.
Lady Cadwarra emerged wearing her new Clothspinner and a smile indicating how much she loved it. She twirled for Baltazar and giggled like a schoolgirl in her first prom dress showing her date what he would be getting later.
Cadwarra wore nothing under the dress. No bra or corselette was needed to help maintain her breasts in that perfect shape they had. Boobs galore perched above a bodice cut so low that they were almost falling out of it. The size of her nipples could be discerned under the incredibly thin cloth, even if not hard. They were so very close to peeking up over the top of the low-cut garment.
The skirts were long but featured her usual slit. For this particular dress the slit was not on the side as per usual on a Cadwarra gown, it was right in front of her left thigh, revealing shapely leg right up to where limb became abdomen.
A capricious breeze appeared from nowhere and spread Cadwarra’s skirts wide for Baltazar to get a better look. Cadwarra let Baltazar’s eyes linger on the lower half of her body. His dick grew into a state of impressive hardness. It was a nice erection, but Cadwarra did not feel she should give herself any credit. Master Daniel’s clever little magic breeze was the culprit.
Baltazar decided to try and make a pass at Cadwarra, fifty Gnolls or not. He reached to squeeze Cadwarra’s left breast. He got so far as to have his fingertips touch her tit. Cadwarra batted his hand away before his fingers penetrated fully into the nipple crowned meat.
She bore Baltazar no malice for the attempt. His male reaction had been hoped for. Satisfied her dress was suitably sexy for the Fairwick dinner party, she now realized she had selfishly used Baltazar as a guinea pig, teasing him with her boobage half spilled out just to see if he would react.
“You have a very nice prick” she complimented Baltazar, trying to apologize. “I wish I could allow you to celebrate Tunare with me but I am normally only allowed to do that with Vishra men. If there comes a day when you convince Marshall Vishra to pay your services in kind instead of coin, I would not be objecting to feeling your lovely prick inside me. Until then, I fear I must be getting on with my day. I do hope you had a good look, though.”
Try as he might, Baltazar could not imagine a service he could do that would warrant a night with Lady Cadwarra as payment. Wisely, he thanked Lady Cadwarra for modeling her new Clothspinner for him, assured her she looked ‘stunning’ in it and bowed as he departed.
Cadwarra was ready when Uncle Triander came by an hour later. He had one of the Vishra carriages with coachmen and dogs and hot cider handed to her by a young Page. The Page followed in a separate carriage. His sole purpose, it seemed, was to hand Cadwarra cups of hot cider should she ask for more.
Cadwarra sipped her cider, managing not to spill it as the carriage bumped along. Her soft breasts jiggled in the new dress. Uncle Triander fondled them as they chatted. Cadwarra asked if he could squeeze them a little harder. “I like to feel strong hands on my breasts” she explained.
“I can’t squeeze too hard” Uncle Triander apologized as he lovingly ran his hands all over them “you can’t have any bruises on your breasts tonight. You are curing the Fairwick’s boy.”
The Fairwick Mansion was not as large as the Vishra’s but was still very nice. The Maid took Cadwarra’s cloak and draped it over her arm. She then accepted Uncle Triander’s over the same arm. “It is good to see you again, Lord Triander.”
Thanks to gossiping with Amber and Samandra, Cadwarra was beginning to understand the subtle signs revealed by maids when they interacted with males of the Nobility. If this maid was impertinent enough to address Uncle Triander as she just had done, even if it were only a polite greeting, it meant Uncle Triander had been intimate with her at some time or other. Cadwarra told herself to stop being jealous; he had enough cock for both of them.
A tall, attractive Lady arrived, having heard more guests in the entrance. “How nice of you to come, Triander. I am sorry to hear Jemella is under the weather. I do hope it is nothing but an inconvenient cold.”
“Thank you, Lady Fairwick” Triander answered “I am sure Jemella will be fine in a few days. Nothing to worry about.”
This, of course, was all a charade. Lady Fairwick knew that the whole point of this fancy dinner was for Lord Triander to bring a certain pretty little Wood Elf he knew to meet their son and cure him of his unfortunate delusion that he was suffering from homosexuality.
For her part in this little white lie, Jemella had had only one complaint about it all. “Fairwick dinner parties are so much fun” she had protested to her husband. “I do believe you owe me the courtesy of finding me something to do while you are spending all that time with Cadwarra...playing with her boobs on the carriage ride over and who knows what else.”
Well, that seemed fair. Triander had prevailed on his sister-in-law to lend Lord Forest to Jemella just to stop her pouting. No doubt Jemella was already sucking on the reportedly huge Lord Forest cock. She truly loved to suck huge cock. Triander truly loved to see her doing it.
“Lady Fairwick” Uncle Triander said, indicating his date. “I would like you to meet Viscountess Cadwarra of Splitpaw. She was kind enough to accompany me tonight in Jemella’s stead.”
Cadwarra gave Lady Fairwick a curtsy. Amber had been working with her on her technique. She was slightly better at it. “It is an honour to be here, Lady Fairwick.”
“The honour is ours, Viscountess.” She took Cadwarra’s small hand.
Cadwarra thought Lady Fairwick was trying to shake hands. She therefore held Lady Fairwick’s palm in the hand-shaking position.
Lady Fairwick was not trying to shake hands. She was about to lead Cadwarra to the Parlour. She nevertheless understood what Cadwarra was trying to do and returned the rather masculine greeting competently enough. She would not have wanted to embarrass Lady Cadwarra by refusing a handshake.
Lady Cadwarra had a good grip, she noted. One might expect such from a Paladin trained to hold a mace or sword. She was sure her son would enjoy that strong grip on his man handle. At least she fervently hoped so.
Cadwarra was surprised Lady Fairwick did not release her hand once the handshake was over, still not realizing that the actual intent of taking Cadwarra’s hand was to lead her to where the other Ladies were socializing.
Lady Fairwick turned to Lord Triander. “All the men are in the Den, Triander, talking about marauding pirates and troublesome Gnolls or some other boring topic. On the positive side, my husband got ahold of some very good port. I do hope you will find it enjoyable.”
“I am sure I will, Lady Fairwick.”
The maid had hung up the cloaks of the Vishra guests but was remaining in the front hall in case more guests were expected. Lady Fairwick turned to her. “That is the last of our guests, tonight, Chardelle. Kindly show Lord Triander to the Den.”
Chardelle had an excited grin on her face as she made to lead Lord Triander away.
“I can see what you are thinking” Lady Fairwick scolded her. “Dinner will be served in forty minutes so please do not take Lord Triander the ‘long way’ again.”
Chardelle looked disappointed to receive such orders but lead Lord Triander away to the Den, presumably with no side trips.
Lady Fairwick, having not let go of Cadwarra’s hand, steered her down a corridor toward the Parlour, “My maid really is quite good at her job” she told Cadwarra “but she should not be so insistent that our male guests make detours to her bedchamber. Some of our Lady guests can be made rather covetous by how long she keeps their husbands in her room. She should perhaps be dismissed for her inappropriate overtures, but my husband would miss her overtures terribly.”
“I see” Cadwarra lied. Cadwarra had been to a couple of musicals, but could not understand what overtures would need to be sung in Chardelle’s room. Not sure what more to say, Cadwarra observed “she must be a good singer.”
“Yes” Lady Fairwick replied cryptically once she figured out Cadwarra’s confusion. “She is often...singing out in strong voice.”
The usual question at this point in the conversation would be for Lady Fairwick to ask Cadwarra if she was wearing a Clothspinner. That would be Cadwarra’s cue to modestly admit that indeed it was. Lady Fairwick, however, was too impressed by Cadwarra’s dress to ask formulaic pleasantries. She instead asked “did Master Daniel or Master Richerd do your dress?” Lady Fairwick considered herself an expert on everything fashion.
“Master Daniel did this one.”
“I knew it was a Daniel design” Lady Fairwick boasted in her excitement at being correct. “He surely has a talent!”
“Indeed” Cadwarra agreed. “He never fails to design such beautiful gowns. I could never thank him enough for the ones he has done for me.”
Lady Fairwick’s reply was oblique. “Such thanks are quite fun but rather messy.” She glanced at Cadwarra’s revealing cleavage as if trying to see if there was any dried Clothspinner-Willingdon cum remaining there. There was not, she decided...at least not anymore.
The drone of female gossiping became discernable as they neared an archway on the left side of the corridor. Lady Fairwick stopped several feet before that. “We are almost to the Parlour and we have not yet spoken about the most important part of the evening.”
Though Cadwarra was sure Lady Fairwick was not a pussy muncher she nevertheless gave Cadwarra’s figure an appreciative once over. “Lord Triander tells me you were the one who cured his son of his desires for attractive men. I assume you are aware Lord Fairwick and I are hoping for similar success tonight as regards our dear but misguided son?”
“So I understand, Lady Fairwick.”
Lady Fairwick suddenly grabbed Cadwarra’s hand in both hers, pressing quite earnestly. “Please! Stay with my boy all night, Lady Cadwarra. Force him if you have to but by morning make sure you have shown him the pleasures a woman can give a young man...” Lady Fairwick took an anxious breath and added emphatically “...shown him those pleasures repeatedly!”
Lady Fairwick did not give Cadwarra a chance to reply. She seemed in near desperation as she continued. “He’ll change. He has to. Do this for us, Lady Cadwarra. This House will owe you a great favour which we will pay back when you most need our help.”
“The service is done most willingly, Lady Fairwick. I assure you no return favour is owed.”
“Thank you, Lady Cadwarra, You are very kind but we will be most in your debt.”
“You can depend on me. I am sure he is just going through a phase, is all.”
Lady Fairwick appeared reassured. “I am sure you are correct.”
They continued on through the archway and entered the Parlour. A dozen or so gabbing Ladies stopped gabbing and looked at Cadwarra, curious to learn who the pretty Wood Elf was that had just entered with their hostess.
Cadwarra was introduced to the group. Everyone wanted to hear the new arrival’s opinion about the subject they were discussing. Naturally, enjoying the rare chance to be together without the men, the subject they were discussing was...the men. They discussed these males as if they were some kind of inferior being they possessed; whether husbands, servants or lovers. The sizes of cocks were divulged. Private details of lovemaking abilities and frequencies were provided; these being in the form of complaints or boasts. Cadwarra knew it was all false bravado. Each Lady was trying to show everyone how strong and independent she was.
One Lady asked of Cadwarra “who is this young Lord Forest fellow that your Lady Vishra has purportedly had locked in her bedroom?” A second asked Cadwarra “is she ever going to share?” A third demanded “how much do you credit the rumours he is even bigger than the Marshall?”
A slim, elegant lady, older than the rest, correctly interpreted the hesitant look on Cadwarra’s face. She interrupted everyone else’s questions with an insightful laugh. “By Marr!” she told Cadwarra with a wicked grin “you’ve had both penises, haven’t you!”
A wave of excited giggles passed through the Ladies, young and old, as they waited for Cadwarra to supply all the juicy skinny about the two Lords’ magnificent erections. Cadwarra was diplomatic. “The first eight inches don’t hurt too much. It’s the next few one needs to worry about.”
That earned a round of laughter and several nods.
The Butler arrived, having discreetly heard nothing of the conversation about huge cocks. If he ever wrote a tell-all book about everything he ‘never heard’ he would soon be wealthy selling uncounted copies. “Cook wishes permission to serve the first course in twenty minutes, Ma’am.”
“Girls” Lady Fairwick announced. “Shall we join our Gentlemen?”
As the guests milled about the dining table conversing and looking for their assigned seats, Uncle Triander presented Cadwarra to Lord Fairwick. Like his wife, Fairwick seemed anxious for Cadwarra to deal with the family shame. He had a short chat with Cadwarra, pretty much repeating what Lady Fairwick had already said but added explicitly that rape was approved if necessary. As Cadwarra excused herself to find her seat, she overheard Lord Fairwick tell Uncle Triander “if my boy doesn’t pound that Wood Elf’s cute little ass all night, he’s incurable.”
Cadwarra found her name on one of the settings farthest from the head of the table. Amber had warned her that as a Viscountess she was junior to all these Countesses, Duchesses and Marchionesses. “Don’t worry” Amber had quickly added “all the young fellows will be down there. The stuffy old farts won’t bother you.” Amber would have said more but she was hurrying to her ‘date’ with her own ‘stuffy old fart’, the Earl of Marshford.
Cadwarra found herself sitting to the right of a man already engaged in a ardent discussion with the Baroness on his left. He was adamant about how best to deal with the political situation up in Thundering Steppes. He barely paused to greet Cadwarra then spent the rest of dinner expounding on the Steelhooves and the Splitpaws to the good Baroness. Neither the Baroness nor Cadwarra were impressed by his solutions to the problem. Later, Cadwarra would not be able to recall his name.
To Cadwarra’s right, she found herself beside a nice looking boy several years her junior. There was no sign of a beard on his cheeks as yet.
He had a really bad haircut. It was not a poorly done cut, it was just not very manly. He must have gone to the same queer barber Diamander had made the mistake of using. She could fix that up with a half hour and a sharp pair of scissors.
Much farther up the table, Uncle Triander caught her eye. He looked pointedly past her at the boy with the unmanly haircut and nodded in confirmation that this was the Fairwick son she needed to help. Of course it made sense that they had seated her beside him.
“Hello” she said.
Credit to his upbringing, the Fairwick boy picked his napkin up from off his lap and stood to make a small bow to Cadwarra. It was a most girlish bow. Very effeminate. “Lord Faron Gilbertsbottom Fairwick” he introduced himself. “Your Servant, Miss.”
Cadwarra had been taught not to judge, but it was hard to forgive Faron’s parents for giving him that name. No wonder he was gay. “I am Cadwarra” she replied. “I am afraid it is just ‘Cadwarra’.”
Lord Faron knew the name. As he took his seat he exclaimed “wow! You’re Cadwarra??!! I heard you killed one hundred Gnolls with three swings of your Mossclean mace!”
Cadwarra insisted it was nothing like that at all. “It was maybe two dozen of the canines. And Lady Amber and Lord Diamander did as much killing as I did. And I do not own a Mossclean mace.”
Faron did not seem impressed by the mention of Amber but reacted enthusiastically to Diamander’s name. “Oh yes. Diamander. He’s a very nice looking fellow, isn’t he?”
“I must admit he is, indeed.”
“I don’t like his boyfriend much, though. Kind of a vindictive fellow. I’m glad he left Qeynos.” Faron reached for a decanter of wine and offered to pour. “Red?”
“Red would be lovely, Lord Faron.”
Faron even poured in a kind of gay manner. “I heard that fellow of Diamander’s went to New Halas. Never been there, myself. I do not like the cold much. Heavy fur outerwear creases my silk shirts.”
Faron poured some red wine for himself as well. “You can’t beat a good Syrah when it comes to the red wines” he enthused to the nearby guests. He turned back to talk to Cadwarra. He looked down at her chest. Cadwarra took that as a good sign until he said “I envy you girls being able to wear all those pretty dresses. Yours is such a clever little number! Is it a Clothspinner? ”
It was not merely a polite question. He really was interested. He stared at her bodice. Slightly larger than usual due to her milk, her boobtops were sitting there for anyone wanting to take a look. The shape and diameter of her nipples were clearly discernable under the bodice’s thin material.
All the same, Cadwarra perceived young Faron was interested in nothing more than the dress. If she could get him to a room, maybe he would want to wear her dress. That would be a good excuse to be naked in front of him. Surely a nude female would make him desire sex. If not, she might need to jump his bones and hold him down. It would be easier if her dress had already been removed.
They chatted a bit about dress design. Cadwarra soon suspected Lord Faron was one of those queers that was born gay and had not just chosen to be that way.
That was not good. A girl can’t force herself onto an uncooperative male if she can’t even get him hard. This mission of hers was looking to be very difficult. She feared all she could look forward to tonight was a pleasant conversation with a nice young man followed by an apology to his parents for her failure. She did not relish failure.
The first course arrived. It was an amuse bouche of Chocolate Covered Cheese with Sea Salt. Faron made the effort to include Cadwarra in the chat with the others around them by proudly confirming she was the Cadwarra who had battled that horde of Darkpaw Gnolls. A little embarrassed, Cadwarra repeated it was three of them in the fight and it was merely a skirmish, nothing to speak of, really.
A pretty newlywed sat right across the table from Cadwarra wearing a see through top. Everyone could see her breasts were cradled in a elaborately laced quartercup bra meant to be seen under her diaphanous blouse. Likewise her exposed nipples were deliberately showing. Two seats down, her husband seemed unconcerned that the other young men were frequently glancing at his bride’s nips sitting in plain view above the quartercups.
Only Faron seemed to not notice the nipples, too busy admiring the cloth from which Cadwarra’s dress had been made. “You aren’t wearing a bra” he observed to Cadwarra “nothing to hinder the touch of that material against your skin. Is the cloth as soft as it looks? It must feel quite nice. I must get a shirt made from that material. Maybe even ask Clothspinners to add a little of that lovely silver brocade trimming your dress.”
The Newlywed Bride, ignoring the stares her half-bared tits were getting, finished her chocolate covered cheese and asked Cadwara in concern “those murderous Gnolls did not scare you?”
“Oh, yes they did” Cadwarra confessed “we were all scared.”
That occasioned a polite chuckle from those nearby. Still, they clearly admired Cadwarra’s courage as much as they admired her cleavage.
Everyone agreed the Chocolate Covered Cheese was excellent as the first course dishes were taken away. The second course, Duck Confit, arrived.
A server swept up Cadwarra’s red wine though she was only half done her drink. She received a clean goblet as a replacement. Lord Faron saw her confusion. “Allow me to pour you a white wine, Lady Cadwarra. This particular vintage pairs well with Duck.”
The back of Faron’s hand accidentally brushed against her dress material as he reached past her and poured. It touched her right breast so lightly that her boob did not even move. She had been ‘accidentally’ felt up enough times in her life to know Lord Faron was not trying anything. Had it been a real ‘accidental feel’ he would have pressed his hand hard into her boob so he could enjoy the soft yielding of ample breast. Though Faron’s action was still deliberate she regretted he was only trying to touch the cloth of her dress not the female flesh beneath.
She pretended the touch did not happen. She could hardly fault a young cupcake for admiring her Clothspinner dress enough that he tried some silly trick like that just to see how the expensive material felt.
Third course was Baked Flying Fish. There was a sporting discussion as to how best to catch flying fish.
A High Elf Lady was sitting diagonally across from Cadwarra. Like Cadwarra, she was some Lord’s date. She had mentioned whose mistress she was, but Cadwarra had not recognized the name.“You need a trained griffin” the High Elf opined.
“Exactly” agreed the Newlywed Husband in response to the High Elf’s comment. “That way you can fly up to where the larger fish are. They get up pretty high.”
The young Guard Lieutenant sitting to the right of the Newlywed Bride turned to Cadwarra. “What do you think about catching flying fish, Lady Cadwarra? Do you prefer hunting from griffins or fishing from boats?”
“I have never had either experience” Cadwarra regretted “but I encourage the sport. Those flying fish with their sharp dorsal fins used to get caught up in our ship’s sails. The poor things would tear them apart trying to get untangled.”
Lord Faron did not have much to say about catching flying fish. Sports seemed to bore him. He seemed to find the dish delicious, though. “I like your skirts” he told Cadwarra as he pushed his empty plate away. “Very clever to have that slit there. It really accentuates your figure.”
Cadwarra took it as a positive sign that he had noticed her body. Despite all the discouraging indications, she was still hoping to somehow seduce him into bed rather than wrestle him down. Under the table, she unobtrusively pulled her skirts open so that her left leg was completely bared...should Lord Faron care to look.
If Faron noticed, he ignored all that bare Wood Elf thigh. He asked instead “may I feel the skirts’ material, Lady Cadwarra? It must feel very smooth.”
Cadwarra was a little frustrated by this preoccupation with her dress. She envisioned the crestfallen Lord and Lady Fairwick when she confirmed their deviant son was unfixable. “Go ahead” she told Faron, politely hiding her disappointment at the situation. How was she ever going to get this kid into bed?
Faron placed his hand softly on the material covering her right leg. He caressed the skirts’ expensive material. “That feels lovely” he said. He ran his hand lightly down from her upper thigh to her knee, confirming the cloth felt lovely everywhere.
The fourth course arrived. As plates of rouladen were set down Cadwarra’s white wine was whisked away in the same manner which her red was removed. Faron removed his hand from Cadwarra’s dress. “We’ll need a rosé” he announced, clearly in a good mood from feeling up Cadwarra’s dress.
Lord Faron poured for everyone. When he finally set the rosé bottle back down he boldly placed his hand back on Cadwarra’s right thigh, not troubling to ask permission this time. He ran his hand up and down much more brazenly, showing no signs he was tiring of feeling the pleasant texture of the cloth.
Cadwarra was sure most people were erroneously assuming Faron was caressing her thigh or teasing her clitoris. Cadwarra could see a lot of that kind of thing was going on. The Guard Lieutenant was definitely working on the Newlywed Bride. That mini-orgasm she was trying to hide was not from the marvelous taste of her excellent rouladen.
The Newlywed Husband paid no mind to his wife’s little bit of diversion. He was too busy playing with the High Elf Mistress’s boobies.
Cadwarra wished Faron would do the same with her boobies. He may have only wanted to feel how nice her dress felt, but the feel of his hand sliding over her lower limb from knee upward was arousing her. She understood the irony that of the two of them the wrong person was getting turned on.
The fifth course arrived. It was pork medallions with a fancy balsamic vinegar reduction drizzled over it. There were the usual jokes of “looks like Lodi Bightn lost too much coin on this particular pig!” and “Guess he didn’t run fast enough last race!”
Lord Faron’s hand slid from Cadwarra’s right thigh over to her left, the one uncovered by any skirts. His hand ran up and down over the fine peachfuzz covering Cadwarra’s bare leg. He did this quite a few times before he realized he was not touching cloth. He earnestly apologized as he removed the offending hand. “Lady Cadwarra! I fear I was not able to discern the difference between your soft skin and the material of your dress. Please forgive me.”
Cadwarra indicated she surely would. She had rather liked his hand there. Under his accidental caresses, her nipples had risen to a state matching those of the climaxing Newlywed Bride. She would have put his hand back but to cover his embarrassment Faron was busy unnecessarily refilling everybody’s glasses.
The High Elf Mistress was now being fingered by the Newlywed Husband. As she enjoyed the attention she politely enquired of Cadwarra “you mentioned your ships’ sails, Viscountess. Does your Family own a shipping company?”
A little embarrassed to have to be admitting such things to a High Elf, Cadwarra confessed she had merely been a ship’s barber. The table fell silent, not sure how to respond to that. To her relief, the Newlywed Bride saw her discomfort and spoke up. “By Marr” she enthused “I bet you had some high adventures!”
That dispelled the awkwardness. The High Elf’s haughty expression turned from reserve to interest. “Did you run into any pirates?”
“We never did” Cadwarra answered and took that as a chance to change the subject. “Those Gunthaks surely won’t be much of a problem any longer with the new frigates being built.”
The Newlywed Husband agreed. It was obvious the High Elf was now giving him a slow hand job. Her hand and his knob showed above the table with each upward stroke. Despite his obvious enjoyment he kept his voice steady. “I hear they are so scared they are already heading back to prowl the Freeport sealanes. Good riddance to them!”
Sixth course was a charcuterie. Of course Cadwarra’s rosé was replaced with yet another clean goblet. “White wine...” Faron explained unnecessarily as he filled Cadwarra’s glass. He again brushed his hand over the cloth on her right breast ever so lightly. “So, you were a barber? You mean you can cut men’s hair?”
“Certainly, Lord Faron.” Cadwarra realized she might be able to use her hairdressing talents to lure Faron to a private room. “If ever you need my services I would be pleased to clip yours.”
Faron leaned over. Maybe he was a little tipsy. He had been making sure to finish his wines before they were swept away. He kissed the arm of Cadwarra’s dress just above her elbow. “Perhaps you can bring your lovely dress back to my room after dinner. I believe I might be due for a haircut.”
Cadwarra felt like saying “Look, if you want me in your room so you can get my dress off and try it on yourself, then just say so.” Instead, she pretended to believe that Young Fairwick actually wanted a haircut. “I have some ideas for a new hairstyle, if you want me to tell you about them.”
“Perfect, Lady Cadwarra. My room is nice and quiet. You can tell me all about your ideas for a new cut where we will not be disturbed.”
Now things were moving, she thought! She should take the bull by the horns. Cadwarra pulled her skirts completely off her right thigh leaving it as bare as the left one. Lord Faron was free to feel away!
Instead of touching Cadwarra’s thigh, however, Faron grabbed a handful of dress material. He pulled Cadwarra’s skirts back over her right thigh. Smoothing it down, he went back to lovingly caressing the fabric.
Dessert, the seventh and last course, arrived. It was ice cream. Not the mediocre stuff second-rate magicians made with an Ice spell and sold in the market square; this was made from Everfrost glacial ice delivered by the Prize of Prexus when it had docked last week.
Cadwarra found the ice cream delicious but finished quickly, wanting to get Faron to his room and get herself naked before he changed his mind about wearing her dress. Deep in her heart, she doubted she would be able to tempt him into an erection, but it was the only opportunity she saw to get him properly interested in a little female love.
There were already several empty chairs at the table by the time Cadwarra and Faron asked forgiveness for being away from the table for a bit. She suppressed a spark of jealousy to see that Uncle Triander’s chair was empty. Some female was having the pleasure of Uncle Triander’s big dick while Cadwarra was going to be bored watching Lord Faron prance about in her clothing.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lord and Lady Fairwick looking pleased to see her taking Faron away. She felt so guilty to know she was going to disappoint them so badly.
The colour scheme in Faron’s quarters was purple with pink accents. He sat on the edge of his bed with its feather quilt decorated with a pink and chartreuse flower motif. Now that they were alone, it seemed he did not feel he needed to pretend he was not a transvestite. “Please remove your clothes for me.”
Cadwarra did so. Naked, she kindly handed him her dress to wear.
Faron was puzzled. “I’ll get you a coat hanger” he offered, not sure what else he should do with Cadwarra’s gown.
Cadwarra, too, was puzzled. “I can help you put it on” she offered “the buttons are a bit hard to reach if you have not had the practice of putting on women’s clothing.”
Faron gave her an odd look. “Why would I need practice putting on a dress, Cadwarra? I’m a boy.”
Not understanding the question, Cadwarra merely blurted out “well, I assumed you being a fag you would want to...”
She stopped talking when she saw Faron stand up off the bed, looking at her in defeated frustration. He was not angry just exasperated. “I’m not a fag” he asserted vehemently. “Why does everyone think I’m a fag?!”
Cadwarra stood there perplexed.
Faron sighed a mighty sigh. “I mean...I know I am interested in fashion and I should have more masculine interests, but someone somewhere started a rumour in school and now everyone just accepts I’m a queer. Even my parents think so, just because they heard some talk.”
Faron exhaled angrily, unloading his frustration. “Maybe if it weren’t for all those lies about me I might have gotten laid by now. Even our promiscuous maid hasn’t offered me a chance in her bed!”
Done with his frustrated outburst, Faron stood there a little annoyed with Cadwarra. He finally demanded of her “if you thought I was gay, why did you agree to come to my bedroom?”
“Um...so you could wear my dress” Cadwarra explained. She was still trying to figure Faron out. She could only repeat “so...you’re not a fag?”
Faron raised his arms and shook his hands in frustration. “How could you think I was a fag!?”
Cadwarra defended her erroneous conclusion. “You pour wine like a girl, you gushed over my dress material, you complained about wrinkles in your silk shirts and the whole colour scheme in your bedroom...” and here she swept her arm to indicate his bedroom furnishings “...includes an awful lot of pink!”
Faron looked around at his furnishings as if realizing for the first time how much pink there was. “I got all this stuff from my older sister when she got married and moved out. It was almost new and I did not see any reason to throw it out. Being frugal doesn’t make me gay.”
“Well, I do regret my misinterpretation” Cadwarra apologized. “I guess I misread the signs.”
Faron remonstrated. “Misread the signs? I spent the whole dinner feeling you up!”
Now Cadwarra was truly puzzled. “When did you feel me up?”
“You let me run my hands all over you thighs, pretending I was feeling your dress material. I even touched your breast with my arm. And you let me kiss you!”
“You kissed my elbow.” Cadwarra corrected him. She now understood. Lord Faron was a sissy-boy, not a cocksucker. He was so inexperienced in the art of seduction, he did not even known how to feel up a girl properly.
Cadwarra stepped up to him, her nakedness so close to him. Her breast tips were inches from his chest. “I’ll teach you how to feel up a girl so she knows she’s been felt up” she announced. She grabbed both of his hands and placed them forcefully on her tits, left thoughtfully unbruised by Uncle Triander. “Grab these things, Faron! Play with them! Squeeze them really hard!”
Faron stood there a moment with his hands full of Cadwarra’s boobs. He had never before held a woman’s breast. Never had such a huge volume of ladymounds in his inexperienced paws.
He did as ordered, though. He squeezed, he jiggled and he bounced them. Cadwarra stood there letting him fondle her as long as he wanted. Her chin was tilted up, her eyes were closed. He just kept squeezing and pulling on her galumbas.
Cadwarra leaned forward to kiss him, eyes still closed. He locked lips on hers making loud snacking sounds each time he broke the kiss to reposition his mouth and kiss her again at a different angle. They necked for a long time.
Cadwarra finally pulled her face off of Faron’s and sank to her knees. She pulled out his hard dick, intending to suck on him. Before she got his knob in her mouth he reached down to grab his shaft, He rubbed his cock on her face, all over, back and forth. “If I was gay” he boasted as his prick slid across her cheek and over the bridge of her nose “could you have made me this hard?”
Cadwarra did not answer except to start undressing him, pulling at his clothes. His lovely hard prick kept hitting her in the face as he stepped out of his leggings or pulled his silk shirt from his shoulders. She kissed the underside if his shaft about halfway along the length.
Cadwarra dragged him to his bed and pulled the pink silk sheets over their naked bodies. She gripped his dick with a firm grasp, just as Lady Fairwick had anticipated. She guided his virgin wang to her slit. The full length went in. His long shaft slid back and forth as he moved on top of her. His first fuck.
Aroused by his earlier touchings under the dinner table, Cadwarra loved it. She lay there, thrilled to have his erect penis probe deep as pelvis met pelvis. Faron moved faster and faster, making loud fuck noises in her quim.“Fairwick dinners are always fun” Uncle Triander’s note had said. Being fucked by the cock of the young Fairwick boy was definitely fun.
Faron did not last very long. Cadwarra felt his dick twitch several times inside her. Turbulent loads of sticky jizz drenched her twat.
He collapsed on top of her. He left his soft cock inside her, slowly moving it in and out, covered in its own cum. He lay there caressing Cadwarra’s naked body, kissing her cleavage, thrilled to have finally screwed real pussy.
Faron fastened his lips on Cadwarra’s again. She kissed him back enthusiastically, pushing her tongue into his mouth as deep as it could reach. He sucked on her tongue, loving how it circled the inside of his mouth and darted in and out.
Her tonguing got him hard again. She giggled as she felt his cock become stiff inside her. His hips moved, thrusting erratically. The glistening shaft of his cock went in and out.
He tried to make this fuck last longer than the first but the feel of Cadwarra’s vadge was too wonderful to stave off his second load for more than a few thrusts. More Fairwick sperm soon flowed into her out of his throbbing penis.
He apologized for being too fast. “Just enjoy” Cadwarra answered, lying there naked with her legs wide. “This is your night.”
That was how the loving went, apart from a little cuddling and a little sleep. While Faron held her and kissed her breasts, she explained the haircut she wanted to give him. She always carried scissors, if the maid could fetch her her cloak.
There were no shears in her cloak’s inner pocket. She remembered they were still in her old cloak’s pocket. The one she had donated yesterday. Chardelle borrowed a pair from the seamstress.
Faron liked how Cadwarra’s breasts brushed against his upper arm as she snipped. He was pleased with the new cut.
They fornicated some more. He liked her compact, toned body. He fucked her full speed while sucking her left boob. He drained it of milk. He switched to the other boob and swallowed all he could get from that one, too. He would use the milk to make more cum.
He asked for a blowjob. She swallowed cum. She would use the cum to make more milk.
That symbiotic exchange of warm white fluids was repeated several times that night.
In the morning, failing to have brought a change of clothes, Cadwarra borrowed one of Faron’s housecoats. She devoured a healthy breakfast despite a stomach full of Faron’s sperm.
Lord and Lady Fairwick were very pleased to find Cadwarra still in the House, rising at a most pleasingly late hour. They noted with satisfaction that her tresses was all in adorable disarray. Their son’s new manly hair style was much to their liking. Obviously, Viscountess Cadwarra had cured the boy!
They assumed Faron’s fluffy pink housecoat was one Cadwarra had brought with her. Assuming she had come prepared to stay the night, no one had thought to offer Cadwarra a fresh change of clothes. She did receive a grateful hug from Lady Fairwick, though. “I hope he didn’t put up too much of a fight, Cadwarra.”
Cadwarra exited the Fairwick Mansion in nothing but her cloak. Chardelle had thoughtfully folded last night’s dress in a box which Cadwarra had tucked under her arm. It would be a long Walk of Shame back to her apartment.
She found one of the Vishra carriages still outside on the curb, Uncle Triander and the Page seemingly having taken the other one home. Despite wearing thick blankets, the bored horses looked at her as if hoping they could please go back to the comfortable stables. The dogs woke and recognized her as one of the House of Vishra. They jumped about as if she was an old friend.
Cadwarra found the Coachman sleeping in the passenger compartment, kept warm by the fire in the small brazier. She climbed in and sat opposite. He was an older man. She found his greying hair rather attractive. He reminded her of the Sergeant in the Forest Ruins. Cadwarra hoped he had not been waiting for her the entire night. “Have you been here all this time?”
“Indeed M’Lady. Lord Triander directed that I was to wait for you no matter the hour.” Seeing her honest concern he added “I was quite comfortable and was being paid for my time. The Fairwick maid brought me a plate of food.”
Cadwarra still felt awful. The man deserved special consideration for his effort. She pondered whether he should be ‘warmed up’ as only a woman could do.
Cadwarra was sorely tempted to do such a thing. She had her motivations. Lord Faron had had climax after climax inside Cadwarra but for all his eager humping had not given her an orgasm. She was so wanting one. It seemed to her that the Coachman was mature enough to truly know how to provide such fulfillment.
She hesitated to follow her desires, though. Technically, a mistress was not permitted the use of a Vishra servant. Amber and Lady Vishra enjoyed much more latitude in the use of willing and semi-willing staff. She herself could only enjoy very occasional lapses in propriety. Such lapses needed to be quite infrequent and very discreet. Balancing these considerations, she decided not to offer herself to the Coachman after all, much as she wanted an experienced cock to make her cum.
Of course, Master Daniel had put one of those silly spells in the cloak. Just at that moment, despite the doors and windows of the carriage being closed tight, that ever-interfering breeze caused her cloak to open. It was only a split-second glimpse before her cloak fell back into place but the Coachman saw she was naked underneath.
She could see how her body affected him and she still felt guilty for the way she had teased Baltazar. Deciding to reject the wiser course of action, Cadwarra pulled the curtains closed. She rose and opened her cloak fully in order to wrap it around the Coachman, pressing her big bare breasts into his chest while they kissed.
She tugged at the lacings of his leggings. His hard cock sprang up into her hand. She brought her hips up to his, holding his prick at the correct angle for penetration. She lowered herself onto him. It felt so good to have the Coachman’s cock gliding into all that slippery Lord Faron jism contained in her pussy. It was so wicked to smear one male’s cum over another male’s erection. The slippery cock felt glorious. She knew immediately she was really going to cum.