Lament of a Noble Born

The nightmare always begins the same way.

The air is damp. A thick mist hangs in the air above the water, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of me. Light shines from an unseen source. I aimlessly walk atop the water, the surface as sturdy as solid ground, but I am unsure of where I’m going. The cold digs into my bare form, causing me to cradle myself to retain any warmth that I can.

I have no idea where I am or how I got here. Time itself is a subjective illusion. So, I wander aimlessly.

After a period of time the mist parts and I can make out the silhouette of a figure off in the distance. They are small, hunched over, looking down at something. With the mists before me, I can’t make out any further detail on them.

I call out to them, as I always have done. Then, as always, the figure turns to face me. Burning red eyes stare into my own. The figure then and walks away without a word. I race after them, calling out for them to stay where they are. They never do.

So, I chase the figure deeper into the mist. Despite how far I run, and how long it goes on for, I never grow tired.

Eventually, I see the figure again, and I rush over; running even deeper into the obscuring fog.

But it all changed in an instant.

The fog vanishes, the light dims, and the world itself seems to shift. I lose my footing and feel as if I am in some warped free fall.

Then there are voices. Unintelligible, yet loud and demanding. I say nothing, or if I did say anything it was drowned out by the noise around me. They keep getting louder and more rapid. A cold pain flashes to life in the back of my head. I hear gurgling laughter as I squirm.

My hands are forced together, held above my head by an unseen force that then hoists me up to the point where my toes barely touch the strangely walkable water. The forced is unseen in the sense that I look up and see nothing restraining me despite the pressure I feel being exerted on me. I try to call upon my magic to attack this unseen force, or at least lash out at my enemy; vain as it might be. It doesn’t work, it’s as if my mana is gone.

I revert to trying to free myself in the more conventional way, wriggling and squirming in the hold for a way out. During these motions I feel something touch my feet, something warm and slimy. Looking down, I let out a startled cry-

My eyes snap open and I shot up, my heart pounding in my chest.

A few deep breaths later, I realized everything was fine. I wasn’t in some cold lake area shrouded in mist, but in my bed. A sweat stained bed given the spots of dampness where I had been laying down before; and a few spots from another damp part of me that filled me with a bit of shame. And going by the light streaming into the room, it was already past dawn.

Breathing heavily, looked at the state of my bed. My sheets were drenched in my sweat, just as my small clothes were drenched in my fluids. I shivered getting out of bed, the cold air splashed into my hot body.

One thought ran through my head.

Not again…

For the better part of a year now I’ve been having…strange dreams- No they were nightmares. Lucid nightmares where the same events happened every time, yet my body was doomed to endure the same things in some endless cycle of nightmares. Same lake, same figure, same monstrous laughter. The beginning is so clear, but I always seem to forget how they end. I know it ends the same, I can just feel it! But I can’t remember what it is, my memory of the dream always seems to cut off around the same point when I look down into the water.

Yet even if I can’t recall what happens properly, my body seemingly remembers. Every time this dream ends, I wake up sweating, my body shivering, nipples erect, patches of skin sensitive to the touch, and my loins drenched in all manner of fluids. What a mess.

Reaching to the bathroom, I threw off my nightshirt and went over to the sink. Splashing water on my face to gather my thoughts.

“Good morning Syllia!” I heard Mom greet me, breaking me from my thoughts. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around me from behind and two sizable breasts pressed into my back as Mom brought me into a tight hug. Her head came to a rest on my shoulder. I shuddered as her body warmth bled into me.

Per her usual antics, Mom always sleeps in the nude.

She noticed the absent look in my eyes, “Sleep well?”

“I-“ I was about say more but froze. In the corner of my eye I saw, something. Something moving among the shadows at the edge of my vison. It was like a small black…rat sized…thing. It was a ball of fuzzy blackness that darted away when I moved my eyes to it.

“Something wrong?” Seeing my eyes focused on something else, she looked over her shoulder to where I was looking.

“It's nothing.” I replied, looking back at my reflection in the mirror. “Thought I saw something.”

Not only was I have recuring nightmares, but I was now seeing things; because I KNOW I saw SOMETHING there.

…

This did not bode well for my sanity.

--
--

Halfway through my sixteenth year as an elf, I am becoming painfully aware of the slowly encroaching doom of the race I have been reborn into. Like a clock slowly ticking to midnight. Its slow. If you stare at it, it seems like the little arms aren’t moving, but every now and then, it creeks forward.

Now I may not have the exact date for Arthas’s “genocide fun time” but I do know the rough chronological order certain events that precede it happen.

And the first one on the list kicked off a few months ago!

The Horde has reformed.

The various orcish internment camps scattered across the member states of the Alliance have been attacked. Supposedly led by Doomhammer himself. Hundreds of thousands of orcs have already been broken out of the camps by the resurgent Horde and have fled into the wilderness.

There, allegedly, they are readying themselves for a Third War. Afterall, bands of orcish raiders have already been spotted as far south as Stormwind, and dozens of isolated towns have been sacked; their populations cut down, enslaved, or sacrificed to demons according to reports from some paladins. What is this if not a prelude to open hostilities?

Even here in Silvermoon, the memory of the last war was still fresh. Even more so when too much of the population, something decades ago is considered ‘recent’. Some even wondered if the Horde would ally with the trolls once more and burn the kingdom again. That Silvermoon itself would be put under siege once more!

I yawned.

Maybe I am being a bit unfair. No one else could know what I know. Maybe the Bronze Dragons, but that's a whole different can of worms to open.

The new Horde has no interest in wars or conquests. The orcish attacks on isolated settlements represents one to one and a half percent of the orcs freed from the camps. A fraction of a silver of a minority who are venting their anger and rage at everything around them. Most of the orcs just want to move on; who see the orcs raiding across the kingdoms as nothing more than fools who wish to repeat the failures of the past rather than build a future for themselves in this alien world.

As for the trolls? The current leader of the Armani hates the Horde now. Since they ‘abandoned’ the trolls who were on the cusp of ‘victory’. Funny words. ‘Abandoned’ in the sense that Doomhammer didn’t want his forces to be smashed between the pincer that was the combined might of the Alliance and Royal armies. ‘Victory’ in the sense that the Horde had beaten itself bloody against the magic shield over the city and had no means of breaching it.

Ah good old-fashioned bias.

Regardless, even when no orcish horde emerged from thin air to destroy civilization, the Kingdom still launched a series of punitive raids into Armani territory. You know, for good old times sake.

As for me.

My studies were accelerating. My grades were some of the best of my ‘age’ bracket (hehe). Even my magic expanding at a rapid pace. I can blow up big rocks with the power of my arcane magic! I was even one of the strongest people in class!

Not the strongest of course; Elsia held that title without any real completion.

It’s kind of funny. You’d never think someone so demure and cute would be so utterly terrifying to fight. I mean, her fire magic burns white hot and melts stone! Her grades were above average, even amongst the high standards of the Academy. But her magic was leagues above anything the rest of us could match. Hell, even the professors had a hard time keeping up with her magic.

Hate to have to be on the receiving end of her fire when she gets older and more experienced!

…

Assuming any of us make it that far…..

--
--

Cling.

Blink.

Cling.

Slash.

Cling.

Blink.

Clash.

Thump.

“Fuck,” I hissed out as my ass hit the grass and my training sword landing somewhere behind me.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I waved off my training partner’s concern. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with way worse.”

“If you say so,” a hand reached out to me, “let me help you up at least.”

“Thanks,” accepting the paladin in training’s hand, I was quickly hoisted back to my feet.

I didn’t know what to think of Sorlan before I met him. Sure, I had what Cerra told me, but she was hardly had an objective opinion. Oh, I remember her swooning about while waiting for him when Cerra said he agreed to meet with me. You could practically see the hearts in her eyes when she was properly talking. While her initial shyness on him was cute, I’d honesty rather deal with that then another tirade of her gushing on him.

Though I did get a jab in on her when I brought up if she followed my advice to be blunt with him.

That got her all quiet and blushing; mumbling something under her breath about “firmness”. So, mission accomplished on that front!

But sadly, I had to admit something when I met him.

He was hot!

He was well built. Unlike most elven men I’ve seen who are warriors, he had muscles. Not the lean, slim, muscles that are common. No! He was CUT! While not ‘bodybuilder’ levels of muscle, it was far more than I have ever seen on the elven form.

Add in the fact that his eyes seemed to sparkle like sapphires, his wavy pale blonde hair blew in the breeze, and his voice was full of warmth made it no wonder why so many girls were throwing themselves at him. He looked like a literal harem protagonist who grew up from his teenage years. Even I wanted to instinctively throw myself at him.

Hell, even if I WAS still a guy, I’d probably at least think about throw myself at him as well!

But there was one thing that stood out even amongst his handsome features: Sorlan was a half elf.

Beyond the bulkier than normal frame, or his greater than average height, or even his shorter eyebrows, it was his eyes that gave him away. While they did shine, it was in the metaphorical sense rather than the literal one. No glow or light of any kind emanated from his eyes. His eyes were that of a human. They held a shade of blue that was unnatural for humans to have, but they were human eyes all the same.

Kind of puts it in perspective why he was an orphan. Despite their elven heritage, half elves are not considered ‘true’ elves. At best they are ‘half-humans’, with great emphases on the ‘human’ part. At worst, and from what I have seen in the Academy, they might as well be some kind of chimera-like creature.

Some books describe them more like animals than people: having bodies too bulky to be an on an elf but too slender to be a human, eyes with shades unknown to normal humans but too dull to be elven and living long lives for humans, but pitifully short ones when compared to elven standards.

One book I read, that was disavowed by even the blue-blooded isolationists, said that the half elves are an attempt by human kingdoms to ‘replace’ proper elves with ‘half humans’; to ‘breed’ the elven race to extinction.

Of course, it’s not just elves who are standoffish to half elves; they get properly shafted by their human half also.

Another book I read stated that humans were fearful of half elves for a time and believed them to be attempt by elves to ‘replace’ humanity by ‘breeding it out of existence with their hybrids’. Kind of ironic given that this line of thinking is exactly what elven conspiracy theories blame humans for doing but who cares about facts anyway?

Nowadays, most half elves live in the human kingdoms; mostly Dalaran, Lordaeron, and Stormwind. At times they live a somber life, a consequence of outliving their human parent by centuries yet dying centuries before their elven one.

“Ready for another go?” He asked as I picked up the practice sword.

“Sure,” I agreed, stretching my arms out and shifting beneath the practice armor he lends me during out little matches. “Probably the last one for the day. I’m starting to feel soreness in my arms.”

As we readied ourselves for our last bout for the day, I mused about the situation.

He wasn’t just a pretty face, he was also a damn good swordsman, or paladin in this case. While he had none of the speed that Mom had, he was seemingly far more durable than she was. Even with a two-handed sword, he could swing and deflect faster than I anticipated.

It’s kind of funny. I’m so used to being the ‘slow’ one in practice fights thanks to Mom’s bullshit agility and speed that it’s weird for me to play the role of the ‘speedster’. Not that the agility difference between us was that great. My ‘speed’ came from magic rather than physical conditioning.

Both hands on my sword, I charged Sorlan. He in turn prepared to parry my blow and counterattack. Our practice blades collided. The paladin in training used his superior strength to shove me back, breaking my form. He readied for a horizontal slash to end our match. If I was just another elf, this probably would have been the end of the match.

Except I wasn’t just another elf: I was a mage.

As he swept the blade across, I blinked away. His blade met only air as I reappeared behind him. To his credit, he used the momentum of the swing to whirl himself around to face me. I managed to get two quick hits on his training armor before our blades met once more.

Again, I blinked away to his blind spot resume my frenzied hacking.

I remember a time when I was utter trash at Blink. Use to get my feet stuck in the ground when I ‘reappeared’ or arrived at a point several feet off the ground. It’s a spell that really screws with your spatial awareness if you’re not careful. A spell requiring both awareness of your current surroundings and an awareness of the surroundings that you will be appearing in.

But now years after my first disastrous blink, where I ended up waist deep in the ground, I was very competent in it. I might screw up a bit in longer blinks, such as twenty to thirty feet at a time. But merely blinking one to two feet at a time to avoid a sword strike?

Child’s play.

And so, like always, a stalemate ensued. Sorlan lacked the speed necessary to hit me before I blinked away, but I lacked the outright strength to make use of it. With the sword I mean. If I were really fighting for my life, I’d probably use my magic to blast him away when I got behind him before setting him on fire.

Of course, this is practice for my swordsmanship so of course I’m not going to do that! And it wasn’t like he was giving it his all either. I’ve seen what kind of damage his Light magic can do to practice dummies.

Sadly, that good sportsmanship on our parts does leave me more at a disadvantage than him.

And eventually, he got the better of me.

After blinking behind him for the umpteenth time, I was greeted by his elbow jabbing itself into my ribs. I then realized that I had blinked in too close. I reflexively moved to cradle the impact site, giving him all the time, he needed to swing around and punt me in the chest with his pommel.

Crumpling onto my knees, I coughed as all the air in me was pushed out. I dropped my sword and clutched my chest. Wheezing as I tried to fill my empty lungs with air. As I struggled to take in oxygen, I felt a warmth overtake me. The pain dulled as the seconds ticked by.

“Sorry about that,” Sorlan apologized, his outreached hand radiating light onto me. “Got carried away.”

“It’s…fine. Don’t worry…about it,” I waved off his concerns while still catching my breath. “But….I think I’m done for the day.”

“Well at least let me help you up,” he quickly scooped me off the ground and back onto my feet.

With a quick thanks on my part, we walked back to the training yard to return our armor.

Doing so, I tried to ignore the warmth in my body.

The worst thing I found about training with someone I find physically attractive, was that it got me all hot and bothered by the end of it. After getting all worked up in fighting, I end up getting worked up in a completely different way. Rubbing my legs together did nothing to alleviate the warm feeling flooding my lower reaches.

What made it worse was that he was a genuinely nice guy. Strong, attractive, kind, maybe a bit dim in some respects, but a great guy overall. All the things a girl could want…so I’m told.

I can’t remember the number of times I used one of my sex toys at him to imagine being fucked by him. Normally when I’m still sweaty from practicing when the memory of the event is still fresh. Part of me even wanted to throw him to the ground, mount him, and ride him like no tomorrow.

Some lingering part of me feels strange that I can even aroused by a guy at all. Afterall, I use to be a straight guy myself. At least I think I was. It’s not like my tastes have changed entirely, since I am still attracted to women like I was before (oh boy am I still attracted to them). But now my eyes drifted to men as often as women.

Did that make me straight? Gay? Bi? Something else entirely.

My body’s hormones did nothing to alleviate the situation! I seemingly got off on anything nowadays ever remotely sexual in nature.

Made going to Siristra’s place difficult when half the people I walk past are in varying stages of undress and intercourse.

Though part of me wishes that I was-

“You okay Syllia?”

Sorlan’s words broke me out of my thoughts. Blinking, I looked around and saw we had reached the shed holding the armors and Sorland was holding out his hand to take my armor.

“Yes,” I quipped back, clumsily unhooking the chest piece and handing it to him. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? Your face looks a bit red. Maybe a fever-“

“No just the heat,” I shot back, hoping to stop any further shonen misunderstandings to occur. “I’m just going to go home and take it easy!” Spinning on my heel, I immediately starting walking back in the direction of home.

“Well okay then,” I heard him call back to me. “Just make sure to hydrate yourself!”

“I will,” I reply without looking back.

With the burning sensation across my cheeks, I had intention on digging myself a deeper grave by turning around. But I knew just the thing to help ‘take the edge off’ when I got home; then I’d be good as new!

Of course, the thoughts of what I was going to do only enflamed by core even more.

Damn it!

--
--
“To My Dearest Silly,

I hope this letter finds you well. The past few weeks have been insanely challenging….

…spending lots of time at the range….it was crazy how much he could eat!...

….the hero of the day when I swooped in and BLAMed him in the eye…

….and while I want to say more, I can’t. Not because I don’t trust you, but because I know these letters are read before they get circulated. Security and all that. Can’t write much more on it, and I’m going to be out in the forest for a long time. By the time you get this, we’ll probably be several days out.

I’m sorry but I swear I will make it up to you when I return. I’ll bring you something back, I promise!

Hugs and Kisses, Noly

P.S.: Fuck you Keelran, I know you’re the one reading my mail!“

God damnit, the one time I might have needed Noly and her perverse antics!

Noly had told me her recent excursion would only be about a month long, then she would be here for a week before going out. Turns according to the letter, something happened, and she’s stuck out in the Eversong for “length of time”. Worse, they would be going the Azeroth equivalent of “radio silent” for the duration of that time.

Great, just great! Loath as I am to admit it, our practicing sessions have been doing wonders to taking the edge of me recently. While nothing more intense than some nude petting and toys, simply the feeling of a warm body next to mine dulls the heat in my loins. To be fair such physical contact also revs me up, but that’s not the point.

I’m dealing with a constant low level of horniness, masturbation only does so much, and the one person I usually do this stuff with is indisposed.

Great. Just my luck!

Ughh. How could this day get any worse?

--
--
“Hello-...Siristra. Ho-...How are you...today?”

“Why, I’m doing fine. Thank you for asking. How about you?”

“I- I am...good...to-today.”

“Well that’s good. So, tell me, how was school today?”

“I- was….My-”

“Yes Syllia, your…”

“My...My..M-Fuck!”

I couldn't even finish the sentence in dwarven as the arcane orb in my hands shattered like glass.

“I believe that is enough language for the day,” the red-haired mentor concluded. She walked over from her desk to the sofa, unabashedly nude as always. “We’ve had a pretty productive day I feel.”

My heavy breathing was the only response I gave her as she marked my place in the language book before returning it to her small bookshelf. Why was she even teaching me other languages? First Darvish, now Zandali? When was I ever going to need to speak to a troll? Maybe it was to see how I could channel my spells when my mind was preoccupied with other thoughts?

Let it not be said that Siristra was a bad teacher. She wasn't. By her own words she’s had millennia of experience teaching at it shows. My magical capabilities have skyrocketed since she’s taken me under her wing. Using mana was easier than ever. Channeling mana was almost second nature now. I could detect common enchantments weaved into clothing or armor with but a single glance at their mana signatures. I was even picking up new languages at an astonishing rate.

She was, in other words, a brilliant teacher.

She was also an unabashed hedonist and voyeur.

I saw her lean down to a lower shelf to return the book back amongst the other texts, most of which we’ve gone over at least once. Instinctively, I averted my eyes as her lower lip were on full display and fought down a blush and a sting of heat between my thighs. I don’t look away for her sake, Siristra has been very clear that she has no problems with anyone looking at her body, but for my own. Siristra’s body was beyond alluring and for someone who was neck deep in hormonally driven horniness that was not a good thing.

Worse, she didn’t just look sexy, she reveled in sex. Even beyond the fact that she ran a wealthy brothel (sorry Salon), and filled it to the brim with beautiful and sexy women from across the Eastern Kingdoms, she also partook in the same acts of debauchery as her employees. On more than one occasion, I have walked in on her servicing a client.

Just a few weeks ago, I barged in on her satisfying a man. Satisfying of course being a sanitized way of saying ‘Siristra’s sweaty frame straddling her customer’s reclined body and bouncing herself on his cock to milk every drop of cum out of his balls’. I’m only guessing the very last bit, going by her own, lurid chants and the cum already dripping out of her from both her lower lips and ass.

In the beginning of my mentorship, this scene would have probably gotten me to sputter out some nonsensical noises and slam the door shut with my face red as a beet. Now though, I would just sigh and quietly shut the door. I now just shoot a sideways glance at one of her scantily clad courtesans who tell me she was “ready to see me” with them looking at me as if expecting some overreaction from me seeing Siristra getting fucked.

To be fair, I probably did overreact too much in the beginning.

But damnit I was better now!

…

I mean I do still blush, but I can at least look like I didn’t see something erotic.

Of course, it wasn’t just Siristra’s room. When I walk up to her room, I walk past several other rooms where clients are being tended to in quite “intimate” way. That said, it wasn’t all about sex here, I’ve seen plenty of people just come into the lounge area for drinks and just talk to the girls. It was still an erotic thing, given how little the courtesans wore here, how transparent some of the fabrics used were, and how the dancers on stage moved, but they weren’t out right fucking the girls in there.

Or at least I haven’t seen it personally.

My thoughts were broken by the door creaking open and one of Siristra’s girls scampering to her mistress. The girl, a blonde like me with moderately bigger tits wrapped in an almost see-through outfit of fine silk that exposed much of her tummy, leaned over to whisper something into Siristra’s ear.

Her eyes narrowed, “Damn drunk,” Siristra tsked.

“I’m sorry,“ the girl apologized. “If I had been watching more closely, I would have seen Elerestra’s temper start to flare up and separated them. This is my fault I-”

“It’s his fault for not knowing his limit” Sirista cut off the girl’s apologies, quickly standing up. “And he should also damn well know that girls at the bar are off limits. The fact he only came out with some bloody scratch marks shows that her temper is better now since we aren’t dealing with a small fire.”

The girl gave a nervous laugh as Siristra raced to her bed and put on her dress.

“Sorry Syllia, something just came up,” Siristra said as she walked out the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Oh, okay,” I doubt my reply reached her at the speed she was walking out. The other girl hurried behind her, only stopping to softly close the door she came in.

And I was alone.

As the minutes ticked by, I grew bored. My eyes wandered across the room and took note of a collection of…tasteful portraits along the walls. All quite raunchy, with orgies, threesomes, female domination, hell even a hermaphrodite being tended to by a couple of nubile maidens. Without anything to focus on my mind began to wander into daydreams.

Given that I still had not had the time to ‘relax’ today, and I was now stuck in a place that exuded sexuality and lust, from the art to the smells, I quickly grew hot. I might be good at keeping myself centered, but even I had my limits.

More minutes went by, and my hand was sliding into my panties. The risk of getting caught in such a state like this only enhancing the feeling of pleasure I got as my fingers played within my walls. Closing my eyes, I imagined myself in one of those acts. To have something inside me. Not a piece of shaped glass or some metal babble, but something warm and fleshy. Something that could reach further in and stretch against my walls more than simple fingers could ever achieve.

I quickly lost track of time as I spread my legs further for greater access, my head arching back with hisses of pleasure on my tongue.

Why? Why was this so fucking good, and why was it taking so long to finish up…

“I wouldn’t overthink it if I were you.”

Siristra’s voice jolted me out of my fantasy. I yanked my soaked hand out of my panties and turned to see Siristra quietly siting at her desk looking over some papers, her dress laying against the bed.

“What are you doing here?” I rambled out, still gathering my mental faculties, and feeling a flush of embarrassment across my face. Oh dear…oh fuck…I…Did I say that aloud?

“This is my room,” Siristra noted in a point of fact kind of way.

“No…I mean- I thought you were still- How long were you there?” My question changed even as I was speaking. I absently tried to wipe off my own arousal on something in some vein attempt to preserve a measure of decency.

“Ten minutes or so,” Siristra spared me a single glance as we dabbed a quill in an ink bottle. “The drunk took longer than I thought, and then I had to talk to one of the girls about what constituted as an appropriate use of force. When I got here, you were already in the middle of some good times if that’s what you were asking.”

“No I mean-“ heat rose in my face, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You weren’t bothering me,” She commented. “If I was expecting something, I’d probably have asked you to hurry up or give you a small room to finish up in.”

I gawked at her logic. “But I was….” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

Siristra sighed at my attitude. “You were fingering yourself to erotic pictures, hardly something to get work up over. Heh, I mean worked up in the other way of course.”

I gave her no reply, sinking my head deeper into my arms as if that would somehow let me escape this awkward conversation. No matter how much shame I was feeling, my lust only seemed to care about the sexy nude woman sitting before me. I didn’t trust my eyes to not look down to her lower lips and wonder how it would feel under my tongue…

A whimper droned out from my throat as the mental image came into focus.

“So…” Siristra sighed as she sat down next to me. After a few moments of silence, I felt her hand on my shoulder, “how often are you like this?”

“What?” I peak an eye out.

“You know, ’Backed-up’, ‘hot’, lustful,” she ran off a dozen more words to use. “You are about that age where young people want to hump just about anything.”

Her joke was far closer to the truth then she may realize.

“Well?” she gestured for me to reply.

“…everyday…” I squeak out.

“About what I expected,” Sirista sighs. “Have any toys or the like? Maybe a book?”

“Yeah,” from the tone of my voice I could tell she knew that they weren’t enough for me.

“Have any friends you trust enough to let off some steam with?”

“Not in the city right now, no” I reply.

She sighed again, her hand rubbing my back tenderly. “Are you afraid or…”

“I’m not afraid,” I almost snap at her. “I just…” why is it so difficult to say!

Siristra was quite for another minute, her hand rubbing my back throughout. “If you’re interested, I think I can help you out.”

“How,” I mumble into my arms.

“I have something I’d like to show you.”

Looking up from my arm, I see her disarming smile. “What is it?”

Her innocent smile was betrayed by a hint of mischief in her eyes, “something I think you’ll like.”

--
--

When Siristra said she wanted to show me something fun, it was a given going to have a sexual slant to it. But didn’t think she’d go as far as to give me a front row seat for a session between one of her girls and a client.

“…no more…. please…. you’re…..too big…..splitting me in two….”

“You’re loving every moment of it!”

“Noooo… that’s not true! You’re too much…I can’t-”

“Liar,” fleshy slap echoed across the room along with her surprised cry. “You can say whatever you want, but at least these lips are more honest. Greedy whore, your cunt is milking me dry of every drop I give you.”

“No, you’re too big, I’m going to split in two- Ahhh!”

The woman screeched in a lurid mix of pain and pleasure as the man bottomed out within her for the umpteenth time. Despite her vocal ‘protests’, the woman has been angling her ass into her partner so his thrusts can reach deeper into her. He merely grunted at her actions, grabbing hold of her hips, and setting up a renewed pace of feverish thrusts into her. The woman moaned and writhed deeper into the unkempt bed sheets as she fell even further to his insatiable assault.

As the pair fucked away, they were completely oblivious to Sirista and me siting on a couch facing the front of the bed. We had arrived a few minutes before the woman brought her ‘partner’ for the night in, magically obscured so they didn’t know we were here. I tuned out Siristra’s explanation of the mechanics of the spell as I was too entranced by the sight of the man striping the woman out of what little she was wearing and began to plough right into with little fan fair.

The girl getting impaled into oblivion was named Edra, and was, according to Siristra, one of the more popular consorts in the brothel (Salon). I had no idea who she was having sex with, Siristra said something about client ‘anonymity’ and ‘confidentiality’ which I roll my eyes at since we are in the room while he’s having sex and there is nothing to obscure his physical features. Hell, he almost walked right up to the spot Sirista sat us down and fucked her upright in the air; Edra’s large breasts swaying in my face with each thrust and their combined climax sloshing onto the tile floor. Seeing her expressions, eyes almost lolled back as her tongue almost hung outside her open mouth, with a soft sheen of sweat glistening down her bare form aroused me to no end.

Not even ten minutes into this show, and several climaxes on their part, I could feel my small clothes were drenched from the constant arousal leaking out. Rubbing my thighs together for friction provided only momentary relief to my pussy. My body yearned and ached for release at the sight.

Even though I had seen dozens of whores getting fucked roughly over the course of this new life, be it in alleyways or the nocks and crannies of the city, and overheard even more acts that were out of sight, this felt different. It was more visceral, more primal, ferocious even. A dozen little things that added together to create something sinfully delightful.

“You know you don’t have to just watch right?” Sirista commented; I’d almost forgotten she was here. Given the debauched display, I was surprised that she was acting so mundane. No hint of blush or arousal to speak of. I couldn’t even see her straining against her own arousal soaking the couch like I was. Her eyes were transfixed on the scene, I could catch her eyes running over every part of the congruence before us, yet not in the way I was. From her expression, this aggressive display of domination was as arousing as a dry spread sheet.

“What do you mean?” I quipped back, not taking my eyes off the heated scene.

“Remember they can’t see or hear us right,” her voice seemed a little too low given the loud grunts and cries before us. “So, relax and enjoy yourself.”

“Enjoy myself?”

“After pleasuring yourself to still images, and given your current excitement, I assume you’d like to finish where you left off,” Siristra commented.

I wanted to counter her words, yet they would probably be hallow given that I am almost certainly wetting the couch with my juices.

Would it really be so bad? The stray thought raced through my mind. After discovering the more…seedier aspects of this world, I had been trying my best to hold myself to some Earth-equivalent moral standard for as long as I can remember. I don’t even remember why I did that. Maybe it was as a means of holding onto what little I could of my first life? It’s hard to say.

What I do know, is that as time went on, and this body started to be more hormonally active, it became harder and harder to reel myself in. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of masturbating, and if that was all it was then there would be no problems. But it wasn’t JUST that. It was also all the alien feelings and urges that came with it.

The images and fantasies that fill my mind feel more RAW and VISCERAL then anything I had ever experienced in my first life.

When I hear sounds of whores taking cocks in their mouths from beyond my home, and imagine myself in their place, chocking myself on a thick length and milking it for all it was worth.

When Mom makes her lewd jokes and banter, I wished she would take me and show me in all its lustful detail the things she describes.

When Verana goes on one of her rants about high society or something equally elitist, I imagine grabbing the back of her head and force her to eat out this whore daughter’s cunt on her hands and knees.

When me and Noly explore ourselves with hushed kisses and giggles, a dark part of me wants to ask her if she’s up for feeling what a REAL cock feels like inside us.

When I’m all hot and bothered after finishing training with Sorlan, I wished he would rip off my clothes and take me right then and there on the open field.

And on and on the desires bubble beneath the surface, like a cauldron of vice that threatens to overflow if a single drop is added.

All this stuff was giving me one hell of a headache.

But as the seconds droned on, I felt my resolve waiver. No, not waiver, change.

I’m hardly chaste myself.

Maybe…. would it really be that bad to indulge a little?

It’s not like I want to hurt anyone, I’ve never felt an urge to do something like that. The thought of hurting someone without cause hasn’t ever cross my mind, so I doubt there’s some slippery slope I need to worry about in that regard.

Was it even fair to judge myself by the morals of a world I don’t even live in anymore? Afterall, it’s not like I plan to forget who I am or was.

Probably not…

What’s the harm?

My hand was beneath my skirt, darting to my lips, before I even realized it. I hissed as my fingers delved into my wet pussy and felt the heat within. Biting my lip to hold in my moans, my digits began to curl and run over nerve bundles within my fleshy silken walls. My toes curled and my leg muscles twitched as the pleasurable sensation began to roll over my entire form. The sight of such a ferocious fucking before me fanned the flame deep within me.

“You don’t have to keep your voice down, remember” Siristra quipped, her eyes never leaving the carnal display. “They can’t see or hear us.”

“Fuck…” I hissed out, whether it was at myself or Sirista, even I didn’t know. Regardless, her little comment brought my voice out in all its lustful heartiness. While I wasn’t screeching or hollering like Edra was, my heavy breathing would be very noticeable in any social environment. I even caught my tongue lolling out of its own accord to run across my lips.

As my hand got into an approximation of the rhythm of his thrusts, their pair moved. Hoisted onto her knees, back arched, the woman lolled her tongue out her mouth, her tits heaving with every hurried thrust into her. Illegible words flowed freely from Edra’s lips, what bit where compensable were a slurred mix of praise and almost religious chanting as pleasure wracked her form.

As the ‘show’ went on, the hand not currently finger deep within me started to paw at my breast. At first just softly grasping it. Transitioning to rolling my open palm over them, getting my erect nipples stuck between my fingers and the shirt’s fabric. Unsatisfied with this degree of contact, my hand slither under my shirt and bra, and took my bare breast in hand. The initial shock of my cold hand on my hot flesh sent a jolt down to my damp cunt that caused my inner walls to constrict around my fingers.

I resumed both my ministrations, keenly aware that my limit was near. I also became aware that my thrusts and hand movements were an attempted mirror of what the man was doing to Edra. The grasping of the breasts, the trusting into her, while not identical, the similarities were quite noticeable.

After all the stuff I had done earlier before Sirista interrupted me, I was so close….

Just a little more….

By coincidence, the pair before me seemed to be at their limits as well. Without warning, the man intensified his thrusts, and wrapped his arm wrapping around the woman’s neck and pulled her close so his chest was pressed against her back. Several second later, with one final thrust, he bottomed out within her and groaned. Edra whined and moaned in turn as she was filled by his seed for the umpteenth time this evening and came herself. She twitched as her body was flooded with pleasure, with some of his cum dripping down from her caked hole onto the damp sheets between her legs.

The sight of them finishing was the final straw that broke me. My walls clamped down on my fingers and I rode the orgasmic waves of pleasure for all they were worth. It didn’t matter my chest was almost wholly exposed, nor that my panties were becoming debaucherously drenched in my own fluids. None of it mattered. This was the most fulfilling orgasm that I’ve had in months, and I was too busy indulging in the sensations of being relieved to such an extent.

As I slumped down in my seat, my soaked hand finally leaving my lips, Edra and her client similarly fell onto the bed into a groaning pile of orgasmic release. One thought cut through my euphoric high as I stared at the pair:

I wonder how his cock would feel deep inside me…

“So?” Siristra quipped, breaking the ambiance, interrupting my daze. “She was good right? A little overacted in some parts, but the client liked it, and that’s really what matters in the end.”

“Wait…what?” My breaths still stilted from my release.

“What?” she noted the puzzled look on my face. “Did you think she was being completely genuine?”

Yes….” Maybe…”

Sirista chuckled from my sheepish reply and patted me on the head. “That means Edra did a good job.” She gestured to the girl, “You may not believe it, but Edra isn’t really into that kind of overly aggressive and rough sex. She’s more a fan of gentle intercourse, some spice here and there to keep things from getting stale of course, but overall, quite a plain girl.”

“Really?” I look at the girl who was lying with a blissful expression on her lips in the arms of the man.

“Remember when you use to ask what the difference between a whore and a courtesan was?” She asked gesturing to the panting pair on the bed. “It’s the client-worker relationship. A whore is expected to pleasure her client for money, a courtesan is expected to make her client forget they paid money for the pleasure.”

“But the guys have to realize they are paying them, right?” I counter.

“Of course, they know they paid for this. But it’s all about getting lost in the experience,” Siristra elaborated. “It’s about making your client be in such a state of bliss that they briefly give into the illusion of the act. And it’s not just in the sexual acts, anything a courtesan is hired for must be done in a way that can leave their client almost forgetting the girl in question was hired. Anything from cooking a meal and giving the illusion of a married couple, to a sympathetic ear to unpack your burdens of the day over a couple of drinks.”

“That sounds like compensated dating,” I didn’t even notice the foreign concept leave my lips until I had said it.

“That’s actually a very good way to put it,” Siristra agreed. “And while many of our clients do wish to go further than a simple ‘date’ would normally allow, the emotional connection, be it real or imaginary, can greatly enhance the experience.”

Maybe it was my post orgasm thought process perverting my mind, but that stuff sounds kind of…fun. Being able to just cut through all the emotional baggage of a relationship to get to the physical part, while also being able to indulge in the softer aspects without always having every interaction devolve into a sexual act.

It was kind of like a game then? I mean, someone on either side of the ‘relationship’ can get far too into it and take everything far more seriously than it is intended, but any interaction has the potential to go down that path. I mulled over her words. Turning my attention from the courtesan and her partner, I looked down at my still sticky hand, then to the girl’s reveal garb on the floor.

“Umm Siristra?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t mean to impose myself but…” I hesitated, “I wanted to ask if I…I mean, only if you’re okay with it….I don’t want to-“

“Just say what you wanted, and I’ll tell you if you’re imposing yourself” even without looking, I could feel her almost rolling her eyes at my meekness.

Taking a deep breath, I just said it on one go. “Could I try on one of those things?”

“Things?” Sirista traced my eyes to the floor where Edra’s consort outfit laid. Looking back at me, she smiled, “I think I can find something your size.”

Her affirmation sent a jolt of arousal down my spine.

This meant nothing…I was just…curious.