Настучать в бубен / Hit the tambourine: Глава 20-4

Chapter 20-4

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:27

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Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:27

The dream carried the shaman on its waves, passing by various places and events, some of which were imprinted in the realization of reality, some of which passed by, and some seemed not to exist at all. Here was a stubby man dressed in some variation of camouflage uniform, munching an army ration, sitting near a boulder covered with mosses and lichens in the middle of the wilderness. Next to him leaned not a machine gun, but rather a hand grenade launcher, only the bullets in it carried a tinge of some very unpleasant magic, unclear and thus repulsive. Ten metres away from him lay a monster, resembling a cadaver sewn together from a pile of bodies, except that there were no seams on the body, and all the parts seemed to be fused and fused like candle wax. And the man himself, despite his stubbiness and height of about a metre and sixty, and taking into account the heavy army boots, does not seem normal at all. He methodically and calmly eats his ration, and in his sightless eyes the lights of ominous and alien stars seem to dance.

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 20:32

A new frame shows another man, also thin and even scrawny, looking either in his forties or a deep old man, only this man is tall like a heron and reeks of something sinister. It is hard to look at his face, because it is covered with a network of black veins, pulsating and moving imperceptibly, shifting under the skin. The man is motionless and concentrated. All his attention is devoted to a small oak-tree forest located a kilometre away from the deserted road. The landscape around is very flat, not a single tree, and the spot of such a lush forest in rather cold latitudes looks alien. A couple of cars are parked beside the man, stopped at the command of the lookout. In his gaze, faded and inexpressive, it is difficult to read anything, but what is definitely not there is joy and light feelings of any kind. A man with blackness under the skin of his face, with blackness that moves like worms in his eye sockets, that has long since replaced his heart and most of his insides, is looking at the oak tree. And something seems to be looking from there too, looking back, and the oak-tree itself seems to have grown a little closer to the road in the past half-hour.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 11:30

The sleeping Earthman saw a huge space station, to which a slightly less huge spaceship was parked, covered with shields, cannons, missile launchers and other weapons of all kinds, some of which were now in disrepair because of the damage received in the battle. The guy sitting in the captain's chair, hardly much older than dreaming Stepan, exhaled tiredly, gradually breaking off his contact with the ship, thanks to which he felt it better than his own body. Breathing heavily, he drinks a strengthening drink given by the stunningly beautiful bodyguard, injects into his neck a few drugs of relaxing and neural shock quenching type, and then stares tiredly at the high, as in a Gothic temple, ceiling of the captain's cabin, mentally cursing the day when he decided to take control of his new home. Who the hell would have asked him, though? They didn't ask him when they sent him for a beer in the middle of the night, as the most sober and lost three games in the fool. And they didn't ask him here, when they found the gift of the Captain's Heart in a human that had fallen out of a perfectly known in this galaxy inter-world puncture.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 11:38

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Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:27

A string of dream-fragments, vague and devoid of a general plot, is replaced by larger fragments, and the images of the sleeping shaman's awareness also acquire a more stable form. At a certain moment he begins to realise what is going on as well as if he were looking at the opening events personally, with his own eyes. The dream carries him over the streets of a small, though rather cosy, city, smaller than Dantmark, but also on the water surface of Dantra. The town is predominantly stone, and Stepan knows from somewhere that there are several quarries of varying degrees of profitability nearby. That is why everyone, except the very poor, prefers to have stone houses strong and reliable for centuries. There is also a very good river port and a whole set of moorings in the town, to which new boats are constantly mooring or old ones leaving. Fishermen, pearl fishermen, traders, and even river mermaids, who had a whole community here, were bustling about, even at night.

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 09:25

The sleeper's consciousness stops for a moment, assessing the picture and the landscape of the city. Then it seems to drift downwards, towards the rich neighbourhoods, towards a two-storey mansion with a very beautiful tiled roof and statues on the roof, a little dilapidated, but only externally. Externally, Stepan realised, deliberately, so as not to be too conspicuous, so as to give a false impression, whereas inside the decoration corresponds to the notion of ‘luxury’. The image of the sleeping man passes through the roof and into one of the small servant's rooms, where he stands in front of a mirror, dressed only in a Neirat maid's skirt, a very pretty beauty with a tight ass, long legs and large breasts of at least a D size. The beauty with a completely blank stare smears some cosmetic cream-oil on her breasts, paying special attention to her pierced nipples, each of which has a silver ring threaded through it.

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 09:27

You don't even need to be an expert to recognise the shape of some very crude and classic mental processing for a sex toy and at the same time a maid. But the sleeping shaman does not immediately notice another detail, it is difficult to recognise in this make-up-covered face, in the two thin pigtails on the sides, in the blank stare and glued smile one of those women with whom he shared the bed completely voluntarily. Tahira had clearly been through some bad times, and continued to go through them, only now she hardly had the chance to worry about it anymore. In the mind of the sleeping shaman, some unpleasant flame is ripening, he is trying to concentrate as much strength as possible, first of all mental, trying to remember this dream, to realize it even after waking up. Without understanding why, without realising his own emotions in his present state, reduced to the role of an impassive observer, he intuitively understands that this dream will be important to him when he wakes up.

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 09:29

But the current of dreams already carries him further, further, fur...

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:28

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Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:28

A huge trading house, what one would like to call a trading centre, exotic architecture, no less exotic goods, and a huge number of buyers and sellers. Here they traded in the gifts of those lands where the white man's burden had not yet set foot, even though this burden was very much tried to bring. And not only white man and not only man, yes, but the people of Khotta, despite the chocolate-coloured skin and the characteristic appearance of the inhabitants of earthly Africa, categorically refused to repeat the fate of Africa and its inhabitants, stubbornly occupying the role of one of the regional hegemons. And this luxurious and rich trade representative office, opened in one of the most prestigious cities of the world, under the direct patronage of the ever-living elves, was a direct evidence of it.

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 10:18

Colourful consultants dressed in colourful clothes wandered between the rows, guiding and pointing the way for especially honoured customers. On the numerous stalls one could see the most expensive and valuable goods, sometimes worth not gold but silver in their weight, or even in volume. Spices and fabrics, sweets and materials, amulets and luxury items, massive protective totems or elaborate statues. All of these things and a hundred times more could be found in the middle of this place. For example, a very decent set of incense, including even those used by shamans for specific practices, to facilitate contact with the spirit world or to offer to the inhabitants of the higher realms. The shaman appreciated this set, and another Stepan, the one who dreamed, not the one who slept, even decided to buy a set of small things. Simply because it was more profitable to buy a purse of gold in the System shop and spend it here than to buy the same incense at system prices.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 11:41

It was just a pity that he couldn't just tell the honourable owner of the shop that he was buying everything. And not because there was no money, but because they would start asking questions about how he had so much money. Of course, you can just screw with the head of the saleswoman herself, paying honestly and with a markup, and then wiping some of her memories, but as if such an approach would not make things worse. There was a lot of protection against inducing thoughts into the heads of the owners of the premises in the whole representation of Ngabo-K`hele, and it was based on wild practices familiar to the shaman so he could appreciate the elegance of some solutions, as well as the crookedness of the solutions of others. But to take the risk of trying to break the brains of one of the saleswomen, the guards who regularly passed by, the counsellors, other clients, and a bunch of spirits guarding the peace and money of the owners of the representative office.... it could easily lead him not to trouble, but to overstrain himself. It was easier to make do with a relatively modest shopping list, especially since he didn't need that much.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 13:05

The service here was on the level of the best earthly traditions, and the white-toothed smile of honourable Uonga, dressed in her figure-enhancing scarlet-green robes and a whole array of spell beads and small amulets, some of which were also spirit houses, added a couple of points to the already excellent assessment of the local service. The saleswoman frozen on the lower edge of adept, was indeed an excellent professional, and the magic hidden in her jewellery, which organised a whole complex of not strong but carefully selected influences, made it extremely easy to navigate through the countless boxes, vials, powders and fragrant sticks. One sampler was replaced by another, and at some point Stepan realised he had already made a lot of purchases he had not planned to make in the first place.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 11:53

And all because the black-skinned milf was actively flashed the deep neckline of her dress, smiled with a white-toothed smile, gladly accepted compliments from the handsome white-skinned young man and praised his generosity. He wanted her to keep smiling, wanted to stare at the neckline of her dress, at the black tits jutting out into it, at the chocolate skin and pleasing figure. He wanted her for himself and, being clearly a little drugged by the ever-changing samples, feeling the arousal that didn't want to go away and the dryness in his mouth, hearing and sensing with spiritual body /// the desire for black women want black body love dark skin dark-skinned beautiful passionate want her want her body beat of his blood in his veins, he couldn't stand going over to the dark side. Mentally he tried to make excuses for himself that the lady herself wouldn't mind developing their flirtation into something more if she wasn't so busy selling him another set of scented candles to ignite passion. But just as mentally, he recognized that he was just being hypocritical and wanted this black beauty so badly, wanted to take her right here, wanted to fuck her and cover her skin with his semen.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 11:44

Feeling the collar and trousers becoming tight at once, he casts a witchcraft spell on her, summons individual spirits, nudges her thoughts a little, ignites her passion, inclines her in the right direction, at the same time deceiving and blocking her defences, other spirits watching and averting the eyes of possible witnesses. He doesn't even think of using tokens purely out of sporting interest and remnants of conscience, but he doesn't need them. Very soon Uonga's eyes are covered with a mist of passion, she breathes more frequently, changing samples faster and faster and offering new products, already openly pressing herself against him and breathing directly into his ears. For a moment she had definitely used some kind of aphrodisiacs cunningly due to the cumulative effect of several separate mixtures, which did not alarm the upper layer of his defences. He, however, did not stop her from playing her games, wanting her more and more and seeing no reason to show that he had figured out her little ruse.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 14:44

And so they find themselves in a small room behind the counter, where she promises to show him special incense if he helps her get it from the far shelf. A moment, they just to close the doors and set up the sound defence at the same time as a couple of wood-masked resident spirits close the shop's curtains showing a sign of a break, and then they're both overwhelmed. She simply pulls her dress down, causing her breasts to bounce excitedly, exposing herself just a couple of fingers away from his face. He opens his mouth involuntarily, staring at the black tits ///beautiful black best most desirable only black love black women only black only black dark skin black tits best only black wish dream lust tits like a virgin seeing those tits for the first time. He pounced on them like a starving man in the desert, covering her chocolate skin with kisses with a tenderness that surprised him, licking her nipples and the skin in the hollow, kissing and caressing, nuzzling his face and adoring her, trying to explain aloud, losing words and speech, how beautiful she was.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 14:50

Wonga only laughed, so melodious and pleasant, so happy that he made her laugh, pulling him to her, kissing him greedily and passionately, pushing him to the floor, pulling off his clothes, getting into the riding position. Almost clothed, only with her black //wish only adore black love black women wish only dark skin// tits and her dress pulled up, she rides him, and he tries to cause her as much passion, as much pleasure as possible, boosting her pleasure with magic, making her enjoy his embrace as much as he enjoys hers. They change places and positions, now Uonga, exhausted from orgasms, has her face on the floor, her arse hanging out as he fucks her with the utmost passion, kissing her back, caressing with his hands her tits pressed to the floor, adoring her, realising that he wants her, not the bloodsuckers left somewhere far away, not any other women, only her, black and passionate, the best possible beauty. Maybe also her sisters, if not by blood, then by race, yes, it is urgent to get somewhere a couple of black beautiful desirable //best only dark skin only dark tits only black arse// slaves, maids, lovers?

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 14:53

Next she was already lying on her side. He was pressed against her from the back, squeezing her breasts with one palm, which had been enlarged by a Token for some unknown time, and with the other he was gently stroking her ribs, her neck, her collarbones and her hair, unhurriedly and gently, caressingly even bringing her to another orgasm, casting spell after spell, so that she would love him as he had fallen in love with her, fallen in love almost at first sight, realising that he wanted her by his side. The rational part of him realises that these feelings only seem natural, the self-invested reassurances and protections appreciate the damage done, but that doesn't change the fact that he lusts for her and can't even think of not wanting her black //best most beautiful most desirable dark skinned body// tits and ass black and desirable body. And since it just so happens that she's got him mesmerised by something particularly punchy, he just has to make sure that her power over him isn't used to his detriment. There is no doubt that he will easily fulfil any of her whims, and there can be no doubt about it. As a carrier of the system and at a high level, he can give her much more than she would take from life. She is rich and successful, but still just a merchant. He just didn't want to remove himself from her influence, the compulsion to desire her black body, even as he realised that that was the power of her spell. He would free himself, but not now, a little later.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 15:09

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Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:28

Some not too shabby rookery. A place for storing stolen goods, or for waiting out the raid of the guards, where honest workers of the knife and axe, accustomed to the freedom of the roads and forests rather than the cramped streets of the city, spend long days and nights. This time the atmosphere was quite different from what these walls were accustomed to seeing, and it was not the visit of the guards of the honorable Herbert de Dantrel that was to blame. There were no gendarmes in armor. Nor were the unholy signs on the walls, which an experienced cultist would recognize as signs that cut off and blocked energy leaks. However, for some time, these signs, as well as some other also unholy sights on the walls, were just hidden. It was being painted invisible paint and worked extremely imperceptibly. Now there was no such thing as stealth for those inside, but no one cared about these signs and all the problems they could bring.

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 16:23

Nearly two dozen bandits, mostly rank-and-file roadies, but there were a couple of older ones, two pickpockets, a trio of wave-cuters, and two non-criminally connected fence-sitters and messengers. All of them are too busy to realize their problems. Slightly less than half of them were in the midst of fucking a very beautiful, lush-breasted, slender and feminine colleague of their hard work. Short-cropped, with tanned skin, tight holes and unreal skill in lovemaking, she took two cocks in her pussy, two more in her arse, swallowed a fifth, and pleasured the sixth and seventh with her hands, relying entirely on the hands of her partners, trusting that they would not drop her. Her legs, bent at the knees, wiggled playfully, bending at the knees and straightening, giving the youngest present a beguiling sight. The fact that not so long ago he had been attracted, like most other people, mainly by ‘tits and slits,’ and not by a woman's feet, did not occur to him. He's desperately masturbating.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 14:01

Like the others who weren't busy with Senior, sitting against the wall and rubbing their younger friend, though not everyone liked feet. Everyone had their fetish, their newfound craving, and they were willing to do anything to satisfy it. There was a stifling, suffocating atmosphere of orgy and vice, the stench of semen poured copiously from all the participants into the Senior and onto the floor and walls, allowing the passion to feed the symbols and what they carried. The girl sitting in the far corner, beautiful yet strikingly innocent, aside from the horns on her head and the thin tail behind her back, seemed oblivious to the debauchery. She bent over the only bandit not yet engaged in the orgy, shoving her graceful hands into his abdomen, strangely without damaging the skin or letting the blood out, fixing and remodelling something in the victim's body.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 14:41

The victim obviously did not consider himself a victim, drooling and grinning a gnarled smile full of pleasure. He didn't cum on the girl, who had only recently emerged from adolescence into womanhood, only because he had forgotten that orgasm and the process of eruption existed as a concept. For him, the whole of eternity has merged into one continuous and unbroken line of pleasure, pleasure both bodily, mental, and psychic. He remains in this state until the moment when the demoness removes her hands from him, which again have not a drop of blood on them, only some incomprehensible mucus, immediately wiped away with a piece of clean cloth. Obedient to a mere inaudible command and the pointing gesture of her tail, the big man, bursting with muscles and with the marks of numerous fights on his broken face and battered fists, jumped up sharply and ran to the common pile, starting to splash wherever he could, but neither he nor those on whom his passion had fallen did not care.

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 16:28

The place of the one who had left, who had returned to the circle of pleasure, was immediately taken by a new man, this time thin and not having washed for a long time. Despite the order for everyone to wash themselves in a barrel of water, it is difficult to get rid of a month's layer of dirt instantly. The demoness wrinkles her face, not at the smell, but at the state of his overly worn body, which will not hold up to all she would like to put into it, and gets to work. And then again, already on the next target. And again. And again. The last one was the same young brat who had licked, doused, and cleaned the Senior's soiled feet with his mouth several times in a row. He fell down with a sack of grits beside the demoness, and she looked at him for a while with her strange cross pupil eyes, as if thinking about something, but still carrying out the same procedure as with the others.

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 16:30

The orgy is winding down, and the participants start to fall asleep, who quickly rinse themselves off and start cleaning, who go off on their very important business, forgetting about the previous night even faster than the door slams shut behind them. The demoness, having poked her leg into the naked and incredibly satisfied Senior, achieves from her only a lazy moan and the same lazy orgasm, leaving her alone, realizing that she still has time to have fun with her. When she goes up to the second floor of the cache, she finds a half-empty warehouse of all sorts of little-needed goods, most of which will never be realized, and on a vacant patch of space, a married couple is making love. Fjeld and Gelda, the ones who have become her mommy and daddy for the time of her stay in her new body, in company with her little sister lying below. Their passion and the power pulsing through their bodies was the basis of the charge for the cloaking field, and the filter through which the lust that her new and too fresh body could not take without consequences.

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 16:32

After putting them both to sleep and cleaning the room, the demoness clucks her pink tongue, casually licking her lips. Mщmmy is fine, but Daddy is absorbing too much power. It's already a bit suspicious that his muscular frame has grown, and if someone looked into his trousers, he would definitely suspect some magic to enlarge his dick. So far she hides the most obvious traces, expressed in energy and subtle bodies, but a month more in this mode and Daddy will have to be changed, replaced by someone fresher before he brings her more harm than good. And the role of a vice filter is undermining his health. Daddy has already given up drinking, pretending that his wife scolds him so hard that it is easier not to take a drop of extra in his mouth. His liver and kidneys are about to begin to fail, or involuntarily draw demonic power to recover, and it would give away her presence. Soon degradation will reach the stomach - and then what? Pretend that his wife prohibits him from eating something besides her cooking? Or say that he is sick in the stomach? So in the latter case, the head of the pottery company will give money for a healer himself, from his purse, but Daddy can't go to a healer, he can't let them scan his energy!

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 13:55

With another cluck of her tongue, nervously walking from side to side, the girl admits that she was a little hasty in giving Daddy one of the lights that kept the potter's wisdom. Yes, he showed only a crumb of that gift, and only the work with clay and the creation of dishes, not enchanting them, covering them with special patterns and enameling compositions. Daddy is already showing the limits of what can be mastered by just a peasant without a gift, and so one of his colleagues has already started to squint at him, having seen by chance how Fjeld fixed almost spoiled workpiece with a drop of magic. Luckily mommy was just around to bring dinner to Daddy and at the same time let the too curious colleague play with her titties, so he forgot about his suspicions as well as about what he had seen. But no, there was too much at stake, too important not to let the priests or enquirers suspect her presence.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 09:03

All for the sake of the main goal, the goal that had almost fallen into her hands. But it is not possible to take the boy. No. He must be ready to accept her and give himself to her. He, who carries the greatest gift in his essence, must be brought to this thought smoothly and gradually. It would not be difficult to take his radiance for himself. It would not be difficult at all, though a little risky, but it would be of no use to one soul, albeit such a bright one, if it could not look deeper. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, she needs to join the gift, not take it away, and for that she needs to prepare a negotiating position. She can't just take it and shackle the will, she can't force a treaty or scorch the will and mind with passionate ecstasy. She can't risk awakening the octopus of the magical seal of a contract with an incredibly powerful greedy bitch frozen on her back! Yes, this boy is not at all what the contract she curses is chasing her for, but the Mistress would not be herself without leaving her a way to track, monitor, account for, and take away what is honestly deserved. She would no doubt be willing to agree to anything and accept any terms, but as is the custom of her tribe, any bargain must be made to one's advantage, if there is an opportunity for it. By the time she was done with him, it would be profitable and loyal for him to kiss the ground her new body walked on.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 13:46

And not only the earth.

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:29

And not just kissing.

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:29

One trouble, one problem, one lingering worry confused the ancient mind in the young vessel. The goal of her endeavors, for which she had taken the terrible risk of the seal of promise on her back, the risk of upsetting the one who had all possible power over her, that goal was already nearly a week and a half late in arriving. Yes, in that conversation, conducted through her mommy's eyes and ears, mouth and touch, she had ferreted out many things. Including the fact that strong leaps in the development of a gift-bearer temporarily rendered him incapable. Not capable of doing much at all. But still the demoness was anxious, feverishly eager to do something. It had been a long time, thousands of years, since she had been so impatient to wait for her prey. She felt as if she had just received her first name as an inferior, barely aware of herself and her vice, so exciting were these events, how much was at stake. A once-in-an-evening chance. A chance for which she was willing to risk everything.

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 16:35

A difficult target for her, though a very pleasant one. Deceptively simple, careful but not careful enough, strong but pointless, skillful but unable to show her strengths. The difficulty was neither strength nor caution. She'd taken stronger ones, certainly far more cautious and aware that she was coming for them. She'd taken them alone or in a group. She'd taken the whole group after the one she'd taken, but she'd never had a target that could get stronger just by falling off her radar for a couple of weeks. To find a target stronger after those weeks or days, not for days and weeks, but for many decades of persistent development. It was too strange, too out of step with everything she knew, that she had practiced and honed. Because of this, a drop of not pretend but sincere worry erupted in her, experienced by all fires at once of longing and excitement. The target is entangled with her, she has learned much from the target, the target himself has helped her peasant mother in many ways to select the best actions, giving out the presence of very interesting knowledge... but it had been a week and a half since her boy was to go out for another walk in Dantmark, to enter another alley, to see a familiar and unfamiliar peasant with huge tits.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 12:01

He had to, he was obliged to.

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:30

But he didn't come.

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:30

She'd taken precautions. She left a few surprises in case her shroud was partially or completely breached. She had managed to limit and redirect her target's explosive amplification ability so that the amplification would not harm her. Very, very much so. But now, as she recharged her prepared measures for the worst and most unpleasant outcome of events, she thought back over and over again to those distant years and centuries when she had been wrong with far greater frequency, and at far greater cost. She had managed to escape from the captivity of the solar freaks with minimal losses, but not without them at all. Nor was her companionship with the lovely Sivila, whom she had already wished with all her sweetness and passion, simply in gratitude for her actions, without loss. She was now on the verge of absolute triumph or utter failure. If she succeeds in catching the departing stagecoach, if she succeeds in partially taking the target and making it her protector and key to her power, she will be on the crest of a wave of world-shattering events. If she fails, if she delays and waits for Her appearance, she will know the penalties that will empty her entire stock of her cherished golden sparkling grapes, empty the whole bunch at once, if there is any of the bunch and herself left at all.

Camrad_RIP 06.03.25 в 11:51

"Come on, my dear brother, come on, Stepanushka, I've been waiting for you so much..."

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:31

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Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:26

Again, the dream carries the shaman somewhere far away, again the sleeper sees a new series of
merged images, images not just old, but almost ancient. Again, he perceives himself clearly enough to understand what is happening. In this dream he sees a dark elf, majestic and powerful, with an aura at the level of a novice master, and maybe even stronger, although not a magister, no, not yet a master. This elf is dressed in such a way that it would be more correct to say “undressed”, very artistically and beautifully undressed, and those pieces of the most delicate fabric that hide, very reluctantly, her nakedness, imbued with such a powerful magic that even takes a shudder. How did she fit so much into these rags? And then there's this drow has large breasts, and that's an understatement. Anyone interested knows that in the matriarchal society of the dark ones, the size of the breasts also determines the question of status, the question of one's importance, so the more important, stronger, more influential, more skillful the matron is, the more dignity she has. But this particular drow had clearly gone far, far too far even for the society she was accustomed to, for her boobs were well past a DDD size, just on the verge of looking cartoonish. However, she never crossed that line, remaining within the limits of beauty and desirability.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 08:55

However, it was not a funny sight. It was not possible to laugh at the aura of dominating and overwhelming power, sincere greatness and readiness to defend and prove it to the dismay of the doubting elf. Elf, which aura was in full balance, letting through the power, while the magician, strong and experienced, was in working mode, creating another example of her art. On the workbench in front of her lay deceptively ordinary wooden balls, made of some very rare wood, strong and imbued with magic. This magic in the wood does not become more, and structuring is not added to it. The craftswoman gently caresses each ball with the tip of her brush, leaving a trace of paint that is invisible and indistinguishable to the eye or even to the magical gaze. This is not the creation of an amulet as such, no, the magic on these marks is weak, barely visible, yet non-existent, operating only in the complete completion of the whole set. Forty-nine balls, forty-nine blanks, each worked in its way, each not read or seen to be exactly an amulet or anything magical at all. The magician looks at the work of her hands with an expression of satisfied triumph, she admits to herself that this time she has surpassed herself, that this gift to those who will be able, perhaps, to step over her the way she has stepped over those who were before her, this gift they, or rather, she.... she would receive it, experience it to the full.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 10:44

A new frame and the Drow stood in the middle of her bedroom, furnished in an incredibly rich, opulent, almost screamingly expensive, but at the same time stylish and even a little cosy. An elven woman with skin the colour of obsidian, with long dark hair braided into an elaborate hairstyle that only remotely resembles a tight bundle, dressed not in a luxurious dress but in another version of a work robe, stares at her bed. It was huge, capable of accommodating a dozen lovers and mistresses, leaving room for everyone, made of heavy and scarce wood, covered with the finest sheets, the softest mattresses, enchanted with hundreds of duplicate household and protective charms. It was, without exaggeration, a masterpiece of artefacting. In this masterpiece, she had already hidden several traps for anyone who would dare to occupy this place without her permission - a mind-tangling embroidery pattern on a part of the pillows, several peas of solid alchemical potion in the mattresses everywhere but in one place, and the peas, obeying the household charms, changed their place every night, a needle driven into the mattress from below with a curse weakening the ability to conclude the knowledge gained.... little things that a real Matriarch would never fall for.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 10:48

But these will reassure her. It shows her that she has found all the surprises. It was so demonstrative, so pleasant not only to occupy her rooms, her office and laboratory, not only to sit on her throne, but also to sleep in her bed. For her dear and avowed friends and relatives she spared no prepared gifts, whether they be in her throne room, in her laboratory, in her study, in her private chambers, or, here, in her bed. Nor has she spared, nor will she. She would not restrain her desires to be sure that the one who could step over her would lose everything, including herself, lose her position, lose her mind, will, strength, knowledge, lose everything, becoming a dumb and obedient toy for anyone who wanted to play with her.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 10:51

A stroke of a magic brush, combining the features of an artistic tool, a battle wand and a concentrating channeler, and all forty-nine balls of wood, made not just of wood, but of the very wood that was used for the material for the huge bed, fly upwards, and then plunge inside the material. There are no traces, no grooves or scratches on the surface of the furniture, not even any magical background, and those crumbs, which will still be there, will be easily lost in the general background of domestic magic. They will be lost, but they will not disappear, and every single ball from this day will slowly and constantly influence the one who sleeps in this bed long enough - to make the effect start to work, it is necessary to sleep on these beds not less than nine nights in a row. If at least once, even if only for a couple of hours, to nap, say, in the chair, resetting the setting of artefacts-balls, this timer will roll back to the beginning. And she wouldn't forget to take a nap somewhere else.

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 10:54

But the one who will take her place.... this effect is gradual and insidious, it is tuned to the personality structure that prefers in bed to always lead, own, dominate, as it should be the one who will become the Matriarch. Any sentient being who fits the appropriate parameters, holy curls of Mother-in-Darkness, she didn't even deny the possibility that one of the men would try to take her place, ridiculous though it may be, carelessly sleeping in this bed would begin to gradually become interested in the flip side of love power. At first only as an experiment, a kind of game, giving her toys and love interests more freedom, then more and more, then it will become more interesting for the victim to obey rather than to dominate, than behind a closed door with the future Matriarch her own bed slaves will do the most obscene things, and in the end there will be less and less desire to hide, to hide their shameful fantasies, in the end the whole House, the whole Diyarten, the whole Dungeon will know about them....

Camrad_RIP 04.03.25 в 16:41

Well, isn't it wonderful?

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:27

Indeed, a great idea. She did it perfectly, she proved to herself, time after time, that only she was worthy to rule the House, only she and no one else! Perhaps she even can think....

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 10:55

//the rustle of the dear sister's ridiculously variegated dress, the pattern of which is folded into an unreadable jumble of colours

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 10:56

...yes, she had proven her power again. It was necessary, even vital, to maintain her status, and if she did not demonstrate that willingness, her position...

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 10:59

//the gleam of a ruby in a ring of dull metal on her aunt's thumb, which gave a fleeting sharpness in her eyes, which passed her notice

Camrad_RIP 05.03.25 в 11:01