Настучать в бубен / Hit the tambourine: Глава 18-5

Requests, even if polite and eloquent, coming from the deputy head of the secret guard, de Dantrel, were better taken as orders, albeit to a certain extent. Allisira de Fell was the main patron of the bloodsuckers' nest at the moment, so her requests had to be honored. Thankfully, she was paying handsomely, and not just a “live for now” kind of thing. Lemira was almost certain that the bastard had her sights set on tying the nest to herself completely and utterly. She wasn't the first, nor would she be the last. Everything was moving at a leisurely pace but with the same goal in mind. To give patronage, to give even more patronage, to keep freedoms and preferences, but demanding control of income streams, to cut off unnecessary connections, to quarrel or simply to distance the nest from other possible allies. Just like in the textbooks and exactly to the letter.

Camrad_RIP 10.10.24 в 18:32

Not the first time, not the last either, but Sylvia was a very smart woman. Lemira did not doubt that she could hold her balance long enough to find another way. If she didn't, she could leave and settle into a new place. It wouldn't be the first or last time either. Right now, though, during this cursed search for the Blasphemer of Iyastar, Allisira's help justified getting her deeper into debt. There were rumors from Normgrave that the target of the search had gone to the Underworld, that there had been some large-scale battle or even a full-blown massacre, but those were only rumors that reached the ears of Sylvia or Rowena, and the search itself was only slightly less intense. Had it not been for Lady de Fell, who had authorized only minimal, albeit harsh, checks on Sylvia, and then given her an open way of temporary escape, things might have ended much more sadly than a single loss.

Camrad_RIP 12.10.24 в 10:22

And single betrayal.

Camrad_RIP 12.10.24 в 10:22

Lemira was furious at what Rixar had done. Especially when combined with the death of Adolso, in whose treatment, training, development, and education she had invested so much effort. But the boy, trained and experienced, did not survive another deadly adventure, and Rixar betrayed their trust, drank up their loyal servants, and fled, escaping with the intent to betray once more. When the search ritual confirmed the bastard's demise, she nearly drank one of the servants to the brim for joy. Revenge drank better than wine. But then, then she had to work, to drown in work, to work herself to exhaustion, to the point of losing her reserve of scarlet droplets and the humming of auric nodes. Lady de Fell, like the rest of the town, wanted to know who was behind the ugly scene that had not only thrown the de Marek trading house out of Dantmark with no chance of return for the next two hundred years, but not without the help of the de Mareks themselves, or rather the offspring of their merchant representative, who had proved himself such an ally that he was no longer an enemy, but had also insulted the ruling dynasty.

Camrad_RIP 12.10.24 в 10:37

Everyone suspected, if not the de Falers, who had proved their innocence right there, then someone else from the trading houses, and all of them could not be forced to swear oaths. It was not an attempt on his favorite granddaughter, but only an insult. Nothing more. One had to use all manner of information-gathering methods with the flaming asses that the rabid old man had pounded them all into. De Fell had evidently remembered her red-eyed yet subordinates and had given them appropriate orders. No, Lemira was not in vain following the representation of the trading house de Romar, which was clearly preparing to transfer a powerful shipment of smuggled amber to bypass all taxes. For such information or its confirmation, for the bloodsucker did not believe that the squalid Robert managed to pull it off without anyone but her noticing, one could count on some preferential treatment. But there was no trace of the beast master who had worked on the parrots.

Camrad_RIP 13.10.24 в 14:49

And, as if following the peddlers wasn't enough, another request came immediately. Only now information was needed on a different subject. The loud, ostentatious, brazen, and very mysterious murder of Valdis “Whip and Pincers” de Lonnier, with the emphasis on the attempt to smear the owner of the Orchid, m-m-m, so much stink was raised, as if someone had thrown an explosive potion into the cesspool. I mean, let's just say the murder itself and the deliberate attempt to shift the blame. It was clear to a fool that the old hag couldn't pull off such an operation, and she was simply put out into the sunlight, taking advantage of the public quarrel in which she had eloquently wished Valdis to be boiled alive. But when she was brought under interrogation, simply out of compliance with instructions and the general panic of those very searches for the mysterious villain, that's when she drifted. She turned out to be a longtime tightly knit agent serving several masters at once. Usually, she was warned about interrogations, even if with the Daromar relic, in time to prepare and distort the truth, but this was an unfortunate coincidence. Now de Fell is drinking blood from her agents no worse than Lemira, even though she is not kissed with scarlet, and the city is undergoing unnoticeable external, but very hot internal purges.

Camrad_RIP 13.10.24 в 15:04

As a result of all this, Lemira, of course, worked out the contract, tracked down the right person, and led the capture group to him. But, given the preliminary tension and work with the trading house, she was exhausted to the point that she had to drink drops from the flask, having unsealed the reserve, because alive she would have spit out to the bottom, would not have been able to hold on. And then, having restored her reserve, she collapsed into the grave dug for her, sprinkled with scarlet, replenishing herself from the bad earth and restoring the strained nodes and veins of her thin body. The best proof of how exhausted she was was that she awakened not immediately, but gradually, as if almost human, as if nothingness and the negativity of dead stasis did not want to let her go. It was as if in her head inaudible bells were ringing, pages of books rustling, and drunken minstrels playing on their lutes. The last time Lemira had something similar had been when she had drunk an orc shaman drunk with his infusions and had eaten special mushrooms. Though, admittedly, she'd been much worse then.

Camrad_RIP 12.10.24 в 10:41

When she comes out of the grave, she habitually looks around with all her senses. It's a reflex, embedded in her subconsciousness with the transformation, with the transition from life to non-life. At the moment of lying down, the vampire is very invisible, for ordinary and not so ordinary search magic it is indistinguishable from a simple corpse, just well preserved. But he's also very vulnerable. That's why the accepted rule of good manners is not to be present in front of the initiate of the scarlet drop at the moment of awakening, otherwise, you can run into a reflexive attack, like a wild animal, which will be a shame for both sides. Shaking off the sticky earth, even rather fine earthy dust, Lemira gave a command to the servants, falling into a rut of routine. How many times had she laid down like this, how many times had she awakened? She herself had given up counting long ago, preferring to enjoy that very routine and rest after a job well done. Wake up, wash her body in the bathtub, bring herself to orgasm with a couple of toys, drink some scarlet drops, read the new news, talk to Sylvia, let her puny and stupid mind be braided with passion, spread her legs before her master, find out the list of tasks for the coming decade - a typical morning, just like the living, only her heart hadn't beaten for a long time.

Camrad_RIP 13.10.24 в 15:06

The bathroom greeted her with warm steam, prepared oils, a fragrant wand smoking in the corner, and a pair of quality lady saviors. Washing off the dirt and just lounging in the water, Lemira habitually stuck them in her slit and ass, setting the vibrating enchantment to the maximum, feeling the wave of pleasurable sensations bring her to ecstasy in a matter of seconds. Very expensive toys. They could be used instead of a stun rod, because one touch, for example, to the nipple on her breast, right in front of the corresponding auric node, and even she, Lemira, will be twisted so that she can not even move, not to mention resist. Putting her legs behind her head and watching the phallus pulsing in time with the contracting walls of her ass, she wondered how much such a thing could be worth. At the same moment, she frowns her eyebrows, because it's a strange thought. She pleasures her lust with these toys every waking moment, so why such questions, why can't she remember the answer to them? The space in her head ends abruptly when the orgasm hits her particularly hard, and she throws away the silly musings and literally shoots the savior out of her ass in an orgasmic spasm. For some reason it made her laugh wildly and she spent the rest of the ablution time giggling stupidly, remembering that moment.

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 17:58

The servants in the house were especially quiet today, so she decided not to get dressed. Her brains would be twisted soon anyway. Her clothes would only get dirty with her love juices when she cummed. Lemira made her way to her parent's office as quickly as it was unobstructed. Looking at Jaspera, who was sitting in the corner, staring at the wall, kneading her lovely breasts in her palms, Lemira only shook her head. It was always like this, if you delayed a little in the bathroom, this clever bitch would let her brains get twisted before her scarlet firstborn! And how not to be angry with her, how not to resent her? However, the bloodsucker didn't want to lose face, nodding hello to her old friend, mentor, and practically mother, who had made her what she was.

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 18:01

“Sylvia. I suppose since I wasn't awakened, there were no new wishes from our ever-hungry Weasel?” When she received the same welcoming nod, she sat down on the edge of the chair, throwing her spread legs on the table to Sylvia and stroking the bud with quick movements, trying to soften her will with the pleasures of the flesh, so that her future master would turn her into a semen-sucking puppet as quickly as possible. So, she would go on with her own and other things as quickly as possible. "Are you in no hurry to screw your head in?"

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 18:03

“Night to you too Lem, you can take it easy, her ladyship has forgotten about us for the time being.” With a slight satisfaction at a job well done, the lady of the nest replied, reading what seemed to be just Lemira's report. “And no, friend, I'm certainly not going to let anyone mess with my head.”

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 18:05

“Well, your loss, then I'll be first, or rather, second, since our gold-hungry one beat me.” Very satisfied with the fact that the queue had shifted, Lemira flopped her bare buttocks on the soft carpet next to Jaspera, putting her legs behind her head again and caressing her flower. “Then after I've been processed, I'll run through the correspondence and add to it if I need anything, okay?”

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 19:20

"Yes, yes, okay, good luck, friend." Sylvia was in her usual state of complete concentration, clearly already thinking about the coming days, for which Lemira respected her parent, because her thoughts tended to materialize, allowing her to seek benefits and avoid harm with amazing skill, which the chick herself could not achieve. "Tell me later."

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 19:20

She would tell, of course, after she had been braided... after she had been proceeded, enslaved, made into a bed toy. Something in that phrase made her, waiting for the one who would turn her into a toy that could only spread her legs and suck her seed, not alarmed, but confused. She always did just that, every time she awakened from her grave embrace, didn't she? Wake up, wash, self-satisfaction, report to Sylvia, rewrite her mind, meet the master, return to work duties... Something seemed strange to her in this list of events, as if something else, superfluous, wrong, had crept into the usual and routine things. But then Lemira's fingers pinched her flower bud as if by themselves, and the bloodsucker, moaning in orgasm, forgot about her worries, continuing to wait, not noticing how her eyes rolled back involuntarily and her head, her head, her he....

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 19:50

* * *

Camrad_RIP 09.10.24 в 17:05

Men can afford to be only slightly prettier than a cave goblin and still be successful with women, but the opposite is unrealistic unless you hire the coin boys from the Orchid. Few men even realize how much effort a woman's beauty requires to preserve - creams, powders, shadows, ink, eyeliner, lipstick... oh, another treatise would not suffice to describe how the cunning female mind deceives nature. Rowena, of course, has it much easier. Her skin does not age. She does not get stretch marks and wrinkles from her years, but still, her beauty is not only gifted with a scarlet drop but also painstaking work. That's why she got herself a whole cosmetic dresser of elven work, enchanted, with a mirror, a lot of shelves, and stands for jars and flasks with cosmetics, as well as constantly needing to update the stock.

Camrad_RIP 12.10.24 в 10:44

However, sweet, kind Sy was so stingy that any other dwarf would write her off as a parent, even though she was undead, but even she didn't argue much with the purchase. Rowena had explained to her that cosmetics and appearance were no less important to her than alchemical equipment was to her parent. As she realized later, Mrs. Malter was just playing with her, letting Rowena prove the necessity of the purchase herself, training her ability to press and argue, to persuade and prove. Sylvia Malter was the one who could seduce, persuade, and ruin anyone she wished. The vampiress, making up in front of her favorite mirror, didn't know the specifics and names, but she was sure that her mistress had her network of agents, and at least a third of them were not voluntary, but they didn't even know it. For a moment the red-haired bloodsucker thought she had roughly delineated the boundaries of Aunt Sy's personal group of puppets then she vividly showed her chick the fallacy of her judgments.

Camrad_RIP 17.10.24 в 18:37

A few solo trips were “on business”, some reagents, which were bought for her by the servants or she took in the warehouse. And then, quite suddenly, another search ritual revealed that Riksar was done. Rowena couldn't imagine who her parent had hired to do the job, but there was no less than a strong and very specific adept of Maleficism. Well, or she'd sent a whole group of undead bloodsucker hunters over his head, for Rowena knew for a fact that Sylvia had a few contacts with that crowd as well. The kind of contacts who listened and answered questions first, rather than rushing into battle with a silver-plated saber at the ready. But let's leave Sylvia's riddles to Sylvia. Rowena won't know more than that, and it's useless to ask, she has to look for it herself, pulling out information little by little and putting the picture together. Just to know, to understand, to have a bargaining or talking point - it was her nature to always be looking for more and better.

Camrad_RIP 17.10.24 в 18:40

Sylvia probably thought that Rowena would try to repeat Riksar's maneuver by also setting sail without her parents' will and knowledge. And it must be admitted, not entirely without reason. So the lesson of how a stronger and more experienced fighter, versatile and good at hiding was destroyed at the will of the one he betrayed, was a good one. Rowena didn't want to set her mistress straight but she was already cramped in her arms. She wanted more. She wanted to soar in the flow of words, to shine in dialogues and tense battles of wits and not to remain in a third role. It was Rowena who had brought the treaty with de Fell on a saucer with a scarlet border. It was her actions that resolved that conflict with the river guard. It was she who had managed to chew out the right to suckle in a portion of the smuggling traffic! She understood, understood perfectly well, whatever her parent thought, how much her success depended on the help of the rest of the nest, but she couldn't escape the feeling that she was, to put it mildly, being pushed around.

Camrad_RIP 12.10.24 в 10:48

Like a bedside table.

Camrad_RIP 12.10.24 в 10:49

A luxurious, albeit a little pale girl, dressed only in a loose robe made of thin and delicate fabric, who was doing her evening toilette, allows herself a grimace of irritation, immediately copied by her favorite mirror. And it's too early to break the patronage, it is not certain that she will be able to do it, even if she successfully repeats the trick with the sacrifice, like Rixar. You have to be patient and save up skills, strength, resentment, and, of course, information. For power is not in blades or battle wands, it is in words and letters, in unspoken agreements and unspoken hints. And here, on this field, Rowena felt like a fish in the water, a bird in the sky, a leaf in the forest, and a drunkard in the wine cellar. Yes, for now, goody-goody Aunt C still had her. She is still better than she is, but the limits of Lady Martel's specialization and skills are already visible, as she begins to fail to keep up with her chick's thoughts and ideas. It will not be a year, a decade, or perhaps even a century, but the hour will come. Rowena will become a free bird, perhaps even moving her former mistress from her position as the one who speaks to the rulers of Dantmark and does their bidding.

Camrad_RIP 12.10.24 в 11:07

She smiled slyly from beneath her lowered eyelids, as if she were innocence and vice in one body, and sent her reflection an air kiss, winking at the same time. The reflection also smiled and winked, only with the other eye. Abruptly dropping all playfulness, Rowena stepped back, digging her flushed eyes into her dresser, looking for traces of something, but finding only, well, a mirror and a dresser, nothing more. Simple, albeit high-quality, household charms, magically active cosmetics, the most expensive part of it, but definitely not an illusion or anything else that made the reflection behave illogically and incorrectly. She walked slowly to the mirror and stared at the reflection for a good two minutes, and the reflection looked at her just as perplexed and wary.

Camrad_RIP 12.10.24 в 11:10

Rowena lifts her pen and swipes left and right in front of the mirror, once, twice, a second, a third, a tenth, and, almost at peace, her eyes see that all the while the reflection is smiling a little more brightly and broadly, repeating the movements of her hand. Rowena jerks sharply to the left, then back, then forward, almost digging her nose into the mirror surface, but the reflection once again obediently does the will of her real one. Her undead tribe has its own relationship with mirrors, their reflections too empty and devoid of what makes such a reflection a bit magical, reduced to a simple play of light, without sacred meaning. But this also opens the way for other vampires to the basics, or even not only basics of mirror magic, and gives a certain degree of protection from those who managed to master such a rare school of magic to some extent.

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 13:06

Rowena looks at the reflection, and the reflection looks at Rowena. Now she can definitely see that that version of her has a slightly different pose, like the gaze, the angle of the smile, and the position of the hands. Just a little, the tiniest bit, just a little bit, but different nonetheless. The slight flash of apprehension passes and Rowena looks on with pure interest, trying to figure out what she's even seeing. Her eyes continually glide over the reflection, looking for differences and finding them, slowly realizing what those differences are. Rowena looks in the mirror, a refined, noble, and well-bred noblewoman who knows and can do everything a noble of noble blood should know and be able to do. From the mirror looks Reshka - a village slut, a deceiver, and an impostor, who has appropriated someone else's name, someone else's memory, someone else's life and title. She is almost like Rowena, like what Rowena has become by ripping out and blotting out the shameful pages of her life and early unlife, but still not the same. Instead of grace and elegance, only natural flexibility and monkey-like repetition of nobleman's grimaces; instead of nobility and nobility, only a greedy hunger for approval and recognition; instead of a beckoning and promising gaze, only a lustful smile and a lust for pleasure.

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 13:08

The girl comes closer, throwing off her robe and exposing herself completely. They are both absolutely identical in appearance, to the last hair, no matter if it is a neat triangle of private hairstyle or loose hair of a long braid, to the last line, the only difference is in movements and behavior. The woman stops in front of the reflection and looks at it, looks and waits, and then, as if afraid of revealing herself, looks back, absolutely identical, similar, mirrored. It's as if she had imagined it all just a short time ago as if she had seen those wrong movements of hers in the mirror, as if Reshka wanted to convince Rowena that she had only dreamed what she had seen. No, she couldn't do that, she couldn't imagine it, she was sure of her memory, completely and utterly. Motionless and naked, the bloodsucker stares at her reflection for a minute, a second, a fifth, finding a certain beauty in this immobility, finding it pleasant to look at her naked body. She had always liked herself. From the moment of her conversion, she had been delighted with her new, improved, perfect appearance. The flash of pleasure is so sudden that it nearly shatters her motionless ambush on Reshka's reflection, but it gives itself away only by the movement of her eyes, which roll back in their sockets.

Camrad_RIP 18.10.24 в 13:11

She deliberately keeps them rolled a little longer, then focuses her gaze, smiling victorious. There goes Reshka in the mirror, and there goes her mistake, losing this competition to Rowena. Tails in the mirror didn't just roll her eyes, she clearly had less self-control, because the pleasure she experienced made her mouth open and stick out her tongue. However, the slyly grinning, conniving, and seductive Rowena quickly repeats this facial expression, preventing Reshka from suspecting the disclosure. And so they stand in front of the mirror, both of them, moving in time with each other, only now Rowena repeats, perfectly repeats the beat to the beat after Reshka, who didn't realize the trick and therefore became daring.

Camrad_RIP 18.10.24 в 13:15

Reshka fondles her soft and tender breasts, tugging at her nipples, and Rowena repeats in mirror-like precision, biting her lip in pleasure, with exactly the same plaintive and sly expression of passion on the face of the still inexperienced peasant girl. Reshka rubs her bud over her slit, oozing juice, and slips a finger into the secret entrance, and Rowena repeats the same, even cumming at the same time as her outdated counterpart. Reshka moves her hand in front of her face as if trying to put herself into a trance, gradually taking on an increasingly stupid, lost, and bewitched look, Rowena does exactly the same, managing to put her mind into a lustful stupor at the same moment Reshka did. Reshka leans from side to side, bending at the waist, swinging her body like a pendulum, but keeping her feet together on the floor, her face smiling like a typical damsel bewitched by a visiting brainiac, while Rowena is just pretending, pretending perfectly, and cumming at the same time as her reflection, spurting a flood of love juices onto the floor, shuddering in orgasm, spreading her legs wide and spurting again, in front of herself, staining the mirror, and then, when her legs bent involuntarily at the knees, she almost fell on the mirror.

Camrad_RIP 18.10.24 в 13:40

Miraculously not breaking an expensive item. She smiled at her reflection, repeated after Reshka, stuck out her tongue, rolled her eyes, shook her breasts, no, not her breasts, but her big peasant tits, which Reshka could have, not Rowena. Reshka fondled herself, Rowena repeated after her, the wench cummed, and the noblewoman flew off after her, the dumb wench shoved an oblong vial of essential oil up her ass, and Rowena did exactly the same. And, at some point, the real her, an aristocrat and noblewoman who had left her shameful origins in the past, had simply had enough of this game, and she stepped aside, leaving the maddening mirror and the one who somehow appeared there, as if from the past had returned, alone.

Camrad_RIP 18.10.24 в 13:43

Rowena and Reshka, who hadn't been able to keep up with her when she realized she'd been discovered, took an out-of-sync step to the right, closer to the door. The reflection of the second one hides behind the mirror, and then she just steps towards the door, picking up her robe on the way. Only at the door, the bloodsucker realizes the obvious - she is not Rowena, but Reshka, though she is sure of the opposite. She suddenly realizes at the moment when she almost dropped the mirror Reshka and Rowena had switched places, and now it was Rowena who was in the mirror. And she was Reshka, simply because of the same mistake, who had started to temporarily think of herself as Rowena. These strange thoughts and incomprehensible events gave her a headache and the lusty villager, who had barely learned to pretend to be a representative of high society, drove away these thoughts in the usual way - properly rubbing her berry and slit, cumming and moaning, long and ringing. Trying to go to the mirror again, to change places back to Rowena, gave nothing - the reflection behaved as usual, reflecting only the second Tails, who was fooling around and caressing herself, unsuccessfully trying to repeat the recent experience, but achieving only two more orgasms.

Camrad_RIP 18.10.24 в 13:49

Thus, cumming once more, she went to Sylvia's office. She should tell her about it, probably to help her put Rowena back in her place, because even though she had become Tails, she was still herself, and she realized that there was something wrong in all this, that everything was not as it should be. In her parent's office, there was already a naked Lemira lying on the floor, with her legs behind her head and caressing herself with two hands, alternately grabbing her tits and slit. And also Jaspera, who had her breasts out of her dress and was completely immersed in the tossing of those massive tits, truly tits worthy of the title. After looking at Sylvia, who was busy with some letters, and finding no reason to distract her, Tails sat down between her two sister-girlfriends, spread her legs, lay on her back, rolled her eyes, and began to think about how good it felt to be just an ordinary horny rural slut.

Camrad_RIP 10.10.24 в 17:12

Too bad there's no mirror on the ceiling.

Camrad_RIP 10.10.24 в 17:13

* * *

Camrad_RIP 09.10.24 в 17:04

Artemia was fully immersed in her work and satisfied with it. Leave bloody sorceries and martial arts, all those scarlet armor and bloody claws to those whom nature and the new non-life had not gifted with any noticeable talent in something more elegant. The passion of the breathless and bloodsucking eternal maiden even before this eternity was a magical creation, and it remained this passion even after she, saving from death, happened to take a scarlet drop. Creating a good amulet is not an easy thing, requiring very deep knowledge, theoretical and practical, which simply so not to acquire, not mastered by self-study. A self-taught weatherman can summon rain without training, or chase away unnecessary clouds. A talented elementalist can learn to create clumsy but correctly created fire arrows, even space will submit to the basic magical manifestation of the one gifted with the affinity with it in due measure. There, the Apostate is a witness to all unbelievers. Well, if the version that says that he also grew out of self-taught nuggets before getting into training is right because there are so many versions of those that it's not even funny.

Camrad_RIP 11.10.24 в 16:50

And only magical craft, the act of creation, the creation of a permanent magical phenomenon by investing power in the material - only here any talent will be hampered by the lack of at least basic knowledge. There are also those facets of magical giftedness that determine the propensity to create - whether it be alchemy, classical artifacting, enchantments, or exotics like magic forging, as not to be. But even a very great talent cannot succeed without materials, textbooks, and teachers. Or rather, it can, but then you have to be very lucky, very persistent, and very talented. Roughly speaking, the limit of self-learning in craft magic is much lower than in any other magic, especially if you count ritualism as a kind of craft.

Camrad_RIP 11.10.24 в 17:55

Artemia liked this kind of magic. She liked the peace and almost meditative methodicalness with which the preparation of a single amulet takes on life, charge, and vector and closes in on itself, turning it into a completed masterpiece. Well, let's say, not a masterpiece, but just a good amulet, which can be easily sold either officially if it is from the authorized list, or from under the counter if it is from the list of disapproved or simply absent from the list of available purchases. As far as Artemia knew there were exactly four craftsmen in Dantmark who could make not just an amulet to counteract magical search of the wave type in the academic tradition, but the very same Branch of the Black Fern, a slightly simplified and modified version of the basic elven amulet of a similar type for human needs. One of them was Magister Miller and the second was Master Enye, Herbert de Dantrel's court magician.

Camrad_RIP 11.10.24 в 18:03

It was pleasant for her to feel not only useful but also really good at what she was doing, a kind of aesthetic-intellectual superiority of the gifted over the simpleton. At such moments she remembered with kind and sad words her mother who had given her the necessary knowledge, records, tools, even her favorite eyepieces for fine-tuning the blanks. But the recipes she now so easily executed and the blueprints she freely used, were not ordinary knowledge, not the kind of things that would be taught for nothing, even if you studied at the Academy of Neirat itself. At such moments she was a little sad and also had to regret that she did not have time to say much to the poorly remembered and constantly absent woman, because her nanny Artemia saw her much more often than her mother playing her adult games, which, one day, got to the end

Camrad_RIP 11.10.24 в 19:04

The bloodsucker had long since run out of emotions and feelings about it. Even her hatred had long since cooled, and she hardly dreamed of making the murderers' descendants eat their parents alive. That girl was long dead, or rather, undead. Her mother's stolen knowledge had become her legacy, allowing her to rise above the common herd. Some of those involved in that curse on her mother died themselves. Some died in typically gifted squabbles of a small guild where, unlike Neirat, no one was concerned with the proper mutual oaths of non-harm. Some died, and very badly, already with her help. The dwarves say that revenge should be taken when it has cooled down well, like an ancient stone that remembers all wrongs and transgressions, but if they are right, her revenge has long since managed to become part of the Great Northern Glacier.

Camrad_RIP 11.10.24 в 19:09

Artemia lived, worked, and improved herself and her skills, and she seemed to herself so self-sufficient that it was as if she had managed to turn herself into another amulet, or even an artifact. She seemed to herself to be an artifact at times - calibrated, calm, feeling only what she wanted, doing only what she had to do. This thought, which had haunted her particularly vividly in recent nights, seemed to her incredibly amusing, even tantalizing. She, who had finished another amulet, even wanted to take a pause in her work and imagine herself as that very magical object - a golem, even a puppet, a toy on magical power. Probably a very vulgar toy of some promiscuous rich man - the ever-young girl knew perfectly well that she was very beautiful, knew that such a doll, such a toy, any grown-up boy, or even a girl, would want it in a very special way, would play not at all childish games.

Camrad_RIP 11.10.24 в 19:13

Artemia laughed mentally at her own idea and put aside her instruments, took off her eyepieces, and froze for a few seconds, trying to make her appearance as empty and motionless as possible, as if she were a doll. Unexpectedly, she even liked it. It was as if the more immovable she became, the more she resembled a doll, the better she felt, like a fine needle of pure pleasure straight into her pussy. Involuntarily she shuddered with pleasure biting her lip and moaning softly at the utterly sudden orgasm that almost overtook her but as soon as she broke the immovable image, the pleasure immediately vanished. Her usual state seemed somehow bland, dry, unpleasant even, and she again, completely, froze in immobility. A new prick of pleasure, just as sharp and gradual, as if the needle of ecstasy was growing longer, thicker, and more numerous, jabbing into her pussy, her ass, her nipples, every nerve in her inanimate body. And again she couldn't take it, but this time she did cum first, folding herself into a ragged heap on her tucked legs, flying off into the night eternity on wings of genuine pleasure.

Camrad_RIP 13.10.24 в 11:27

She came to her senses again quickly, came from the familiar feeling of impropriety and lack of pleasure, immediately getting to her feet, before she could become a doll again, become a toy, she pulled off her clothes, exposing the taut, pale body of the daughter of the night. The prudent part of her mind didn't want to soil those clothes further with her pleasure but the other part, the part that was sincerely trying to sink as deeply into the appropriate role as possible, understood - that sex dolls didn't wear clothes unless the owner wanted to dress the doll up. At the thought of being dressed, motionless, and frozen, in all the frivolous rags of expensive minxes, she seemed to cum before she could even stiffen. As soon as she imagined those touches, the touches of other people's hands on her body, cold and moving only under someone else's will, she was overwhelmed again. Well, at least this time she didn't stain her robes with love juice, and she would wipe up the drops that splattered on the floor and the desk later.

Camrad_RIP 18.10.24 в 13:19

Artemia entertained herself for at least an hour, and at the end of it she was able to endure almost ten minutes of immobility, during which time the pleasure had brought her to a peak at least seven times, but it was hard to count. At some point, the ecstasy merged into one endlessly soft stream, under which she seemed to sink. Thoughts, desires, and feelings disappeared, she literally became the lecherous plaything she pretended to be to herself. In front of herself. It suddenly became painfully obvious to her that if she wanted to become a puppet after all, to deceive everyone, including herself, to pretend to be it to the fullest, she would need an audience, an owner who would guide her movements, who would play with her, who would watch her, play with her, have pleasure with her. This time she didn't hold back her doll-like pretense for just a fraction of a second - her mouth opened a little wider, but she immediately froze it again, forming a scarlet ring from her lips, her eyes rolling up, quickly returning to their place.

Camrad_RIP 18.10.24 в 13:21

Immobile she stands, cumming, feeling her juices flowing down her thighs, and also thinking feverishly, thinking about how not to think, how to be more puppet-like than any puppet. With deliberately clumsy movements, as if hinged at the joints, like a marionette on strings, she walks out of her workshop. Every movement is extremely mechanical, like a golem of dwarven work, and not the most expensive, deliberately unnatural in movement. Mouth still as open, lips ringed, eyes staring sternly ahead, not moving as she walks more by memory than by sight. Even Artemia's hands are folded into a kind of winter mitten, molding four fingers together, folding one palm into a ring to wipe someone's rod right now, and the other straightened and slightly bent, as if right at this moment preparing to caress someone's bud. She was sure that even the most attentive eye would mistake her for a doll, a toy, a bedtime plaything, and not for what she really was. And that made her juices run down her skin even more abundantly, but no orgasm, which gradually turned into a permanent orgasm, no longer stopping even for a moment, would make her lose her image any longer, would not make her stop being pretending to be just a lecherous doll.

Camrad_RIP 18.10.24 в 13:35

The whole nest had gathered in her parent's office as if they had been waiting for her alone, and if she were in her usual Artemia form, she would have been surprised to see Jaspera's hands on her own breasts, Rowena gazing dreamily at the ceiling, Lemira's naked legs over her head, rubbing her bud with concentration. And the fact that Sylvia didn't seem to be paying much attention to what was going on, methodically checking some letters, and making important notes for herself. But that would have been the right thing to do for a normal Artemia. She-doll was only glad that her parent was distracted, which meant she wouldn't notice the oddities in her pretense and would believe it to the end.

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 12:39

"Dark night, Artemia." Sylvia, who didn't wait for a word from her, still turned to speak herself, clearly unhappy at being distracted and forced into distraction. "May I know the reason why you won't let me work?"

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 12:40

In another moment the youngest of the fledglings, most exposed to the bond of bloody patronage, would have been wary of angering her mistress in the scarlet drop, but this is Artemia, and she is not here, as she must convince everyone around her and Sylvia too. She can't show her usual reactions and emotions. She needs to keep pretending, so there is no fear or anything but the same bright and continuous pleasure. Stepping forward awkwardly and stiffly, as a golem mechanism should, she immediately assumed her new role, believing with all her might that she would not be caught.

Camrad_RIP 17.10.24 в 11:17

"I. Not. Artemia. I. Her. Lusty. Doll. I. Not. Thinking. I. Need. To. Quench. Lust. Of the owner." Measurefully, quietly, word by word, like a pendulum chipping away, she introduces herself, mentally considering herself a true genius for such a well-crafted idea. "Created. To suck. Created.. To lick. Created. To fuck. Created. To cum."

Camrad_RIP 17.10.24 в 11:19

"Yes, yes, I understand, then stay in the corner and don't distract me." As powerful as her parent was, Artemia's disguise, her perfect pretense, allowed her to deceive with remarkable ease, and in her nest, the place of her greatest strength. "And don't stain the carpet... too much."

Camrad_RIP 14.10.24 в 12:42

The last request said not to Artemia, but to the doll, was not superfluous, because the moment the bloodsucker realized that she was really considered a doll. Right at that moment, the juices flowed even more furiously. She did not hold back, opening the ring of her mouth a little wider. Reaching the wall, standing next to Jaspera looking intently at the wall and her bouncing tits, Artemia freezes. She's pretty sure she can take the pretense for as long as she needs to until she gets bored. Or until her future owner orders her to. Somehow there's no doubt that an owner, surely willing to play with such a seductive doll, she's bound to have, can't have him or her not. Slowly and not without diligent efforts, she finally merges with the chosen image, staring at the wall with an immovable gaze, extinguishing her own thoughts and becoming just immovable, thoughtless, stupid, depraved, submissive, obedient, good, beautiful, perfect, adorable, gorgeous, frozen, stiff, numb...

Camrad_RIP 17.10.24 в 11:26

* * *

Camrad_RIP 09.10.24 в 17:04