Chapter 14: Castle Rollingrock
Author's note: The following was inspired by Chapter 6 of this chain, "Falling's Follies" by Skip1934a. As with all the other chapters, the characters were pulled from the online personas of volunteer members of the Author's Hangout (with a touch of real life descriptions and such), but their actions, activities, and words are merely a function of the fantasy and should not be any indication of how they normally behave.
The reluctant messenger trudged up the thick, wet grass of the embankment he'd fallen down. Served him right, he thought, for not noticing the ditch in the first place. Why Her Grace didn't have the sorcerers send out the invitations to those who were off the regular post or trade routes was beyond him. But, when he considered where he was headed, perhaps it wasn't possible for magical communication to make it through.
"And, only someone like myself," he muttered, "would be likely to agree to come out here by themselves for something as simple as a party invite, even for the Duchess of Florafawn." Indeed, there were many reasons why he wasn't a fool like others—happy in the wearing of motley and carrying a jingling stick—but was known as The Fool...coarse, abrasive, but direct and insightful as well. All traits that were well suited for dealing with Castle Rollingrock. Or, more accurately, with its scion and that succubus of a half-sister of his.
Fool finally returned to the road and headed back toward the lights gleaming through the fog ahead of him. It wasn't incredibly faster than moving through the brush, but it was level and the Fool didn't have to worry about picking up ticks. Of course, in the castle ahead, there were other bloodsuckers in search of fresh prey, but he'd deal with that if it came up.
The jingle-jangle of a coach coming along the road behind him forced Fool to step carefully back into the grass. The driver slowed the horses as he noticed the figure beside the road and leaned down as if he was speaking to someone within the carriage. "Whoa!" he told the horses as he pulled the reins and stopped near to the Fool.
An arm beckoned Fool closer from the window of the carriage. He made a step or two, just for show, but stayed well out of reach. He heard a low, throaty chuckle from within. "Not trusting of strangers met on the open road, are we?" a deep voice asked. "A good precaution, especially on this road." The speaker leaned partially out of the window and Fool could just make out the bearded chin and eyes that gleamed with a red glow from beneath the cover of a hooded cloak.
"This is the way to Castle Rollingrock, yes?"
Fool nodded and lit up one of his cigars. "Yeah, I believe so."
"Good...very good...I have business there. Would you like a ride? You may sit beside my driver." Fool nodded and stepped over to pull himself up onto the seat. The driver was slender and dressed in drab clothes that hid most of his physique to the less observant, but Fool marked him as being built like a man used to handling a carriage team and, possibly, of easily handling anyone who might try to waylay this coach.
The man nodded and said, "Woody, or so they call me."
"I'm just Fool. No other name fits me any longer."
Woody nodded again and snapped the reins. The horses took off and the coach set off once more. The men rode in silence. Fool pondering the odd passenger in the carriage behind him, and Woody thinking of whatever drivers think about during the quiet of the road.
And, within the carriage, the man with the burning eyes thought about the envelope he bore and how he might be rewarded for the information he brought his Mistress.
*******
"Well? Where are the next group of entertainers? Do I have all day for this?"
"No, my Lord, I am certain they are about to be here. They were preparing themselves just a short while ago." Belegon disliked not having things go his way. A lesser man might have been beside themselves, but the current Chamberlain of Castle Rollingrock was barely flustered. Perhaps his body language conveyed a bit more anxiety, or his voice held just that touch of trembling that comes from not biting one's tongue, but—compared to his predecessors (of which the official count was six, but there was always that time when Lord Remec had just returned from Somerland, and no one knew how many servants he'd had and lost then), he was doing remarkably well.
Lord Remec rose from his seat upon the dais at the far end of the audience chamber. "Preparing, you say? The usual suite?" He strode across the room as Belegon nodded, and headed down the hall to see what was holding things up.
The door to the suite was closed, and Remec paused for a moment. He shook off the passing sense of courtesy, gave the door a swift series of knocks, and then opened it. He stopped, speechless, as he took in the scene before him.
One of the castle's wenches was crouched on her hands and knees behind one of the performers. She lay with her body resting against the other woman's back and was in the process of nibbling her ears and neck. The other woman had her hands entwined in the hair of a male performer's head, holding him steady while they kissed.
As Remec watched, the male performer gave the wench a nudge. The wench leaned herself across the other woman's body and began folding down the edge of the gown the woman wore. As her larger than fist sized breasts came into view, Remec licked his lips at the sight of them and then bit his lower one as the male performer palmed them both and began alternating between squeezing them softly and rubbing his hands against the thick, hard nipples in a circular motion.
"Ahem."
The woman in the middle broke off the kiss to lazily look over the man's shoulder and meet Remec's eyes. "Milord," she said with a nod of her head. "Are we late for our audition? I'm afraid we got involved in a last bit of rehearsing." The wench giggled and turned her own bright eyes to Remec as well.
Remec swallowed to empty his salivating mouth and nodded. "Yes, yes you are. But, by all means, continue, we shall consider this to be your audition."
"And how are we doing, so far?" she asked as the man shifted down to fill his mouth with each breast in turn. She smiled at the way Lord Remec's pants were beginning to tent as he pulled a chair up close to the bed the trio lay on.
"Most impressive," he said.
Impressive laughed at the remark. "Your Lordship has heard of me, yes? Or was that merely a verbal coincidence? No matter." She shifted herself slightly on the bed to regard Remec directly and give her male companion better access to her bosom. "What would your Lordship like to see?" she asked as she brought her arm up to caress the side of the wench's face. She drew the woman's mouth to her and looked away from Remec for a moment. Remec considered his own desires as the women's tongues played together, and the male slid lower down still to fondle and adore Impressive's breasts while letting them be seen as much as possible.
"You," Remec answered.
With a tap to one tattooed shoulder, Impressive got the man to move and rose from the bed. She stepped closer to Remec, while the pair behind her continued auditioning. She regarded Remec up close and then smiled and shook the curls of her hair to refresh them from lying down. "All of me?" she asked.
Remec nodded. "Yes," he whispered.
Slowly, Impressive smoothed out the front and sides of her gown in one fluid motion. Her breasts sat high and firm, still exposed from the titshelf built into the dress. She slipped her hands beneath them for a moment, as if presenting them even more to Remec, and then tucked her fingers inside the edge of the gown and pulled the loose ties farther apart and shrugged the dress off her shoulders. As it fell to her hips, she removed each arm from its sleeve and then let the whole gown drop to a pile at her feet.
Behind her, the couple could just be made out disrobing as well, and the wench began lavishing kisses along the tattooed man's cock. She then turned sideways to Remec and knelt upon the bed. The man moved to press up against her ass and Remec could just hear the sound of the wench being penetrated.
They began rocking against one another, but Remec was only tangentially aware of them and their actions. His attention and focus was on the curvy body before him. Impressive turned to one side and then the other, showing off her profile to him, and then pirouetted to display her backside as well. Remec's breathing slowed as he drunk in all the facets of the pale performer, and he leaned back in his seat to subtly adjust the tension of his slacks against his cock.
"And? What next?" Impressive asked as she stopped showing off and stood squared up to Remec once more. As she had shifted about, she stepped from within her dress and kicked it off under the bed. She was confident she knew what he would say. In fact, confidence was readily apparent in all of her body language and even in her gaze, and drew Remec in as much, if not more than, the way she looked.
Remec stood up slowly. A slight sound at the doorway made him turn his head. Chamberlain Belegon was there. He bore a unusually worried look to his face. Remec arched an eyebrow as he found little that ever worried Belegon, and motioned to the man to be quick.
"Milord, a dark carriage has arrived. They have picked up a servant of Her Grace, Duchess Falling, who has a message for you. The passenger of the carriage has already gone to your sister's chambers." Chamberlain Belegon paused moment. "It was the Shadowed One."
