Foreword: All subjected characters are at least 18. Any resemblance of fictional characters to real-life persons are purely coincidental and extremely regrettable.
Please do not confuse fantasy (or Literotica entries) with reality.
I sincerely apologize for any and all (of the many) factual inconsistencies that feature in my stories
Also my first time writing and publishing here. Work will be terrible. Constructive criticism and feedback greatly appreciated.
"By the Queen's Grace, I'm here."
It did not matter that he had muttered Her Majesty's name in vain. Whatever scruples he had of what his eyes beheld were dispelled more and more with every blink and every step, as he realized he had pushed through to salvation.
He completely fudged over every possible aspect of the journey. Miscalculating how long it would take (no one told him the city was so
immense
: it put even the Lord Astar's castle to right shame. Not to mention the arduous trek from the town itself!), forgetting Eyepatch's directions (was James
really
going to ask that knife-wielding knave for his own eyes to be carved out?), or making the plethora of panicked turns along the streets that forced him to backtrack and lose more time and precious energy - all in all, it was an utter miracle that he had barely kept his feet and his wits - let alone his life.
But he had made it.
Lights glimmered in the distance, illuminating the downtrodden edifices that modestly lined the street. it seemed as though the alley led right up to a better, more luxurious district - before it was cut off and unceremoniously declared a dead end by an uncompromising wall. This was the far end of the "worst of the worst," as Eyepatch had regaled him. The place that shielded the guilds from the slums, where no light shone except from the lamps behind the walls, and the place where James was supposed to go to, the part of the city furthest from his town and his allegations.
Thin, dim, ethereal - but unmistakable - was dim light, casting dancing shadows upon the street. These, and Eyepatch's promise that what James needed lay at the now uncryptic "divide," were the two things keeping him company under the lonely, moonless light.
Well, there were three things.
James let out a soft sigh and gently pushed his charge forward. "We're almost here," he murmured in half-apology, half-warning. "Just a little more"
The figure grudgingly stepped forward. Almost as tall as James (who was of an average height himself), the figure was clothed in a sheer fabric, so thin and frail as to be paper. James had not been able to procure any better, and winced whenever he could feel the bare warmth on his fingertips. He had everything to thank that the nights had not proven colder. Around the figure's dainty wrists was makeshift twine, and beneath the veil on the figure's face was a gag to muffle any sounds they would have thought to make.
Framed by the poor light at the very end of the alleyway was a trodden building whose shattered frame seemed it would cave in on itself at any given moment.
"Right there, at the divide. Can't miss it. Clear as day - clearer at night, too. Hope your eyes are a great deal keener than your ears... I wouldn't mind two eyes to meself, again."
James shivered at the memory of that gnarly voice.
The building largely resembled a small inn, with the bottom floor shockingly intact considering the otherwise decrepit nature of both the surroundings and the crumbling top. On a better day, James might have had some final misgivings about both the verity of Eyepatch's words and the stature of the location.
It was not that better day.
He went inside.
The thoughts and observations themselves did eventually strike him after he entered - but as was signature in his recent impulsive experiences, it was too late to turn back. As he finally managed to recollect himself and regain his bearings, a closer inspection satisfied his expectations of the location - or rather, lack thereof.
Despite its external appearance, the greeting room was astoundingly well-furnished - in fact, it was so ornately decorated, the inside might as well have been the greeting chamber for a noble. The richly-woven linens and pillows draped over the furniture were not only flamboyantly covered with intricate design, but somehow complemented each other article within the room so effortlessly, even muted by such dim lighting. Even the walls and floors themselves were handsomely treated, and the entire aesthetic was something that could be described as no less than
pampered,
if not utterly regal and grand in its splendor.
It occurred to James just how much in life he missed out on, even as a son of tavern keepers. Even as well-fed and privileged as he had been, this amount of wealth and decor was an experience that would be granted once and forever missed by one of his status, nevermore to be lived, even for a fleeting moment.
And there would only be more miss if his life was threaded short by the end of a noose.
In this light as well, the figure was thrown into relief. The thin clothing that the figure - a young lady - wore did little to disguise her lovely breasts and curves, even as the jostle of the journey did little to hamper the glow of her youth. Her pale skin glowed like the moon, and her burlap veil betrayed strands of her silky black hair. Clearly, James had done a poor job of tying her hair up.
Near the end of the room was another door. It was the light that crept from beneath it that provided the thin glow by which James was able to see.
Curiosity overcame whatever prudence James possessed. Almost entranced, he slowly approached the door, grabbing the woman by the shoulders, dimly becoming aware of some noises emanating behind the door. Was this the commotion of the party that would save him? He placed a hand on the polished knob, turned it, and leaned gently.
The door creaked, causing James to almost leap away in trepidation. Yet no one came to open it for James - or even confront him for his attempt to trespass.
"You may enter," called out a somewhat sharp, yet sonorous man from behind.
James was taken aback. "A-are you -"
"The one so said to be willing to help? Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not, but a closer look at the trespasser in question would be needed to determine that answer."
With that confusing invitation, James decided to open the door.
No situation, however depraved or desperate, could have ever possibly prepared him for such a scandalous sight.
A lone, burning lamp served as the light for the room. At the far wall was a bed, upon which a man knelt, facing away from the door. A mask was the only form of modesty the man assumed, with the rest of his body bared for the world to see. A woman, fair in complexion and hair, crouched beneath the man, her shapely legs and hands planted submissively, with golden hair serving as her own mask, moaning maniacally as the man plunged into her again and again. From the glistening sheen of the pair's skin, It was clear that they had been at it for some time.
James chanced a glance at his lady. He could only just imagine that the look on her face matched the shock and disgust of his.
The masked man tilted his head back. "Well? Will you come in? Shut the door while you make yourself welcome - I will only be a short moment."
James briefly contemplated making an escape from the garish situation while he could, but with nowhere else to turn, and nothing more to lose, he simply shrugged to himself and shut the door, feeling quite small and a bit queasy.
And a small bit curious.
He really had no choice in the circumstances.
Whether the masked man had noticed the commotion, James doubted, as the man suddenly hunched over slightly and grunted, thrusting one last time into the woman. The woman let out a surprised gasp and shuddered in ecstasy before collapsing - with a rather unusual grace, James noted passingly - onto the mattress. The man drew out his length (one that instantly made James feel inadequately-endowed) and gently wiped it over the woman's now dripping vulva.
"You, boy, can start talking. I've heard little more than the fact that a certain wanted boy is in need of assistance. And unfortunately, with information as inadequate as that, I'm afraid I'm presently even more useless to you than yourself." The man gestured to the figure. "So I'm assuming -"
James was taken aback. "So... so you're the person who -"
"Can help?" The masked man stepped off the bed, crossing over to James. "I'll make the verdict after I hear the story." He spread his arms out expectantly. "Apologies if my manner is a bit.. brusque. Time is not a monie to be trifled with."
James nodded and breathed slowly. He reached for his captive's veil and lifted it.
Bruised, disheveled, glaring with a spiteful smolder at James - nothing seemed to diminish the pure beauty glowing with a fiery vitality from every fiber of her being, not the haphazard getup James had hastily done for her hair nor the gag that he had crudely bound to her supple mouth. Entranced, James caught his lip curled in desire and hastily reassembled his face to conceal his emotion. Her face always captivated him - as it had captivated anyone who had the privilege and pleasure of meeting her.
"So this is -"
"Emmeline, yes."
