A Drow's Dilemma Ep. 02: the Caravan

Author's Note:

A Drow's Dilemma began as a one-on-one roleplaying project and has been converted into a chapter-by-chapter format for weekly posting with the permission and assistance from my partner. It will contain a considerable amount of sexual themes such as femdom, lesbian, straight, 'reverse' rape, BDSM, group sex, romance, and other themes. This particular chapter showcases a more aggressive encounter with a part-time futa. The main goal of the story, however, is to tell an epic tale of adventures, gods and goddesses, fae and nymphomaniacs. This episode and every episode to come will be available for free on Literotica for the foreseeable future.

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Episode Two: The Caravan

After the 'Harpy Incident,' as the storytellers were already beginning to call it, Ashyr found that she had a Place in the strange collection of people. Once the shock of the incident was over and the dead had been mourned, a small celebration was thrown in her honor (and the dead's, apparently, but they were less important by her estimation). This wasn't out of the ordinary for this group of people, it seemed. Ashyr asked Artur at one point in the night whether it was common to throw parties for such mundane incidents. He replied that the middle of the week was cause enough for celebration. Then he launched into a poetic rant about of joviality of theatre troupes - or perhaps that one in particular? Some of the words in the common surface language were beyond Ashyr's understanding. She wandered off before he was done, but the crowd that had gathered around him in her stead was enough encouragement for the leader of the troupe to keep going.

Up until that point, the people of the troupe had been offering her food and drink practically at every moment. Ashyr, being the drow that she was, resolutely refused anything that was handed to her. Where she came from, anything that wasn't made by the most trusted of people was almost certainly poison. One either learned this lesson or died from her stupidity. This was a practice that Ashyr took with her to the surface out of sheer habit. According to legend, though, it was rare to be poisoned on the surface. Ashyr wasn't sure she believed it. Better to avoid anything she wasn't sure of and take herself away from the situation.

As she picked her way across the rubble towards a building that promised to provide shelter and privacy, a shining smile framed by the most perfect blonde hair stepped in front of her with a glass of wine and a hunk of cheese bread. Ashyr recognized her immediately as the woman who helped turn the tide of battle with her excellent archery skills. She was probably one of those normally ugly, dirt-common humans, Ashyr thought, but there was a beauty to her that Ashyr couldn't ignore. The drow came to a halt and opened her mouth to give the taller woman - almost everyone was taller than her on the surface, though she was standard height in the underdark - the traditional drow hostility. But the words wouldn't come, and she found herself taking the offered food and beverage.

"It won't kill you, Ashyr." The human reassured her with a brilliant smile that made Ashyr's chest hurt.

"Um..." Was all Ashyr managed to say. Normally she was so much better at not getting tongue-tied, but this mere human was unlike any person she had ever encountered. The drow looked down at the bread and wine in her hand. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed it. It smelled really fucking good. Everything about this screamed at her, warned her that this was a trap. Even while she raised the glass to her full, grey-purple lips and took the slightest of sips.

It was delicious. Far better than any wine Ashyr had had previously.

"Do you like it? This region is known for its excellent grapes. It might not be what you're used to, but..."

"I like it." Ashyr stated simply. Then a crooked grin twitched across her dark-ash face. "Especially because it seems as if I'm not currently dying of food poisoning."

That drew a musical laugh from the brilliantly blue-eyed blonde. "Well, I'm glad to exceed your expectations. Care to sit and eat with me?"

"Um. Well..." Ashyr began to respond, but she was already being pulled away toward the human's caravan. Songbirds seemed to be the theme with that particular wagon, and as they went around to the other side, Ashyr could read the name 'Celeste' written in elegant script across the front. That must have been the human's name, then.

And so, for the first time in a century and a half, Ashyr sat, ate, and had a pleasant conversation with another person about nothing in particular while drinking far more wine than was good for either of them. It was... strangely nice. Somehow, they managed to become what could only be called close companions after that. Ashyr certainly hadn't meant for it to happen; she was there on a mission, after all, that the troupe would not approve of if they found out. But Celeste was determined and Ashyr couldn't resist her charms. From then on, Ashyr had a space on the blonde human's floor where she could sleep if she chose.

... which, of course, she didn't. After the celebration was over, Ashyr slunk back off into the forest. This time, she had every intention of coming back in the morning. It was just that the little cave she had found before had worked so well. If she could find another such place every night, she'd be able to get a full night's rest without her (probably far too paranoid) worries that one of the caravan would come and kill her in her sleep. Probably that orcish fellow. He didn't seem to like her.

Since the caravan had been too busy mourning, repairing, and then celebrating, they got absolutely nowhere that day. The upshot was that she was able to find that convenient little cavern again. Again she laid out her bedding next to the far wall, again she stretched out across it, and again she found her waistline loosened and her fingers pressed against her clit.

--

The first thing that came to her mind was a different situation in that same Underdark wilderness. She had... done some things that had earned her a few years of banishment. Mostly involving a drow male that she had no business being with. That was not what she was thinking about in that cold, dry cave on the surface. No, she was thinking about what she had done in horny desperation in that same moss-scented chamber that she and Tsabdrin frequented. At that time of her life, Tsabdrin was being studded off to various houses, leaving her without her partner. But the sight and smell of the cave still made her horny as hell. Horny enough to do something very, very stupid.

She remembered what the summoning circle looked like. It was such a mundane, barely decorated thing considering the type of creature it summoned. The succubus that appeared in the middle of it was so shapely and perfect that she looked out of place. Every part of her dripped with sex appeal from her pale purple hair to her long, perfect legs. Apparently, she was shapeshifted into her humanoid form; the only things that weren't quite right were her all-black eyes and elegantly curled horns. She had looked around curiously, and asked Ashyr what she wanted. Ashyr had a simple response, "Sex."

The succubus didn't question it. The purple-haired demon tackled Ashyr with an aggressive, sexy growl. They hit the soft bed of moss and rolled around it, fighting for dominance. The drow was doomed to lose, however, against the much stronger demon. When Ashyr was on her back, she felt herself being suddenly penetrated by what felt for all the world like a turgid cock. Ashyr gazed wide-eyed down at the connection of their bodies. Yup. The succubus had shapeshifted herself a phallus. Even in that cave on the surface, she could almost feel what it had been like to have that demon's hips slam into her relentlessly. She had never quite experienced being forced to be so submissive to someone with a dick. It was wild, terrifying, and surprisingly erotic.

A few moments of concentrating on that memory was all Ashyr needed to feel that tension in her body build to its breaking point. Her body convulsed, and she shuddered through her orgasm.

During her afterglow, she remembered how lucky she was in a similar moment of afterglow, back with that sex demon. The purple-haired woman got off of her, all signs of manhood now completely gone. There was just an elegantly-shaped pussy. Ashyr almost wondered if she imagined a penis the whole time, but her entrance felt too satisfyingly stretched and used for that.

"My name is Lilac." The demon said. "You should call for me again some time. That was fun! Or.. would you like to come back with me? We do have room in our- I'm going to assume from your expression that that is a resounding 'No.'" Lilac chuckled. "Fine, fine. I'll let you be a drow for a couple more centuries, if you survive." And then she was gone.

After that, Ashyr had sworn never to summon Lilac again. She liked sex but not 'be a succubus for all of eternity' levels of like. The ranger kept her promise. Sort of. She only summoned Lilac two or three times before she kicked the habit for good. Didn't stop her from fondly remembering the encounters from time to time.

--

In the morning, the ranger rejoined the troupe and went straight to the blonde human. Ashyr kept Celeste company for the following journey. The drow discovered that the human was not normally a fighter nor an archer. The pretty blonde girl was a singer. She had a damn fine voice and skilled tongue. Ashyr endeavored to put that dexterous tongue to more interesting work. So far, it wasn't working all that well. It seemed that people aboveground were bafflingly prudish when it came to sharing pleasures with other people. Nobody liked anybody in the Underdark, but that sure as hell didn't stop them from fucking.

Everyone else went largely ignored by the drow when they were looking at her. When they looked away, she watched them carefully. Food and water were only consumed after thorough inspection, and she never slept anywhere near anyone else during the night. Every evening she'd disappear completely, only to show up in the morning as they were about to leave. No one minded all that much; usually she brought back fresh game for everyone to eat. During the days she sat in the shade on Celeste's wagon and dozed - especially when the sun came out. Damned bright orb still bothered her, even after thirty winters in and out of the Underdark to get used to it.

--

Two days later, when the sun was beginning to dip down into the horizon, the caravan made it to a small farming village a couple days out from Port Afon. According to Celeste, little towns like that were what the Caravan lived for. Ashyr didn't understand why. It was small and dirty. The humans, half elves, and occasional halflings there were ugly and covered in dust. And there were loud, screaming children that wouldn't have made it a full cycle in the underdark without getting murdered by something they annoyed. The people of the caravan, however, looked at all these people with fondness and excitement. Both were sentiments that the village shared.

Ashyr thought before that the people she traveled with were gaudy and loud. But their garb and attitude only became more extreme as they began to set up their wagons in a large half-circle at the edge of town in a field of grass. That field - seemingly set aside just for the caravan - was being decorated by everyone as well. Ribbons of green and blue entwined around poles that held magical lanterns to light the circle. Not all the lights were so contained; some flitted around the evening field like fairies or really bright fireflies. Even those normally blind during the night would be able to walk around safely.

The dark elf found herself roped into getting Celeste's wagon set up for her performance. Part of the wall came down (a curtain was drawn across that side of the wagon in its place), and wooden planks that were stored around the small living space came out to form a stage for her to stand on. More lights were set out on the front and back of the stage, all mingled with the same ribbons that decorated the rest of the clearing. Ashyr wasn't the only one who came around to help prepare. That half-elf guard was around, too; he always seemed to stick near Celeste's wagon. Or, more probably, around Ashyr to make sure she didn't do anything untoward.

When the sun was finally gone from the horizon, everything was set up and the real festivities looked about to begin. Celeste, her dress a lovely light blue that matched her eyes and hugged her waist and breasts, took the stage. People around her quieted down and began to sit on the benches set before the stage. The caravan mage waved a hand, and the near cacophony around them muted enough for Celeste's voice to be heard clearly by the people around her wagon.

"Good evening, village of Whitegrain." She greeted them in her softly feminine voice that still managed to carry to everyone who was listening. "Oh! Hello Artur! Going to accompany me?"

The leader of the troupe smiled his friendly smile and held up the lute that he was carrying. He pulled up a stool and set it at the corner of the stage. Celeste would still be front and center, it seemed. He sat down and plucked at a couple chords. "What would you like to sing?" He asked.

She smiled. "Let's go with the old set. It's been a while."

Artur seemed pleased with that choice. His fingers then flew into a complex tune that impressed Ashyr. The dexterity required for that sort of thing must have taken a mere human like him years to master. Celeste let the introduction go on for a couple more moments. Then her voice joined the with lute. At times her voice and manner was soft and projected a sort of appealing innocence. But there were other moments when a grin quirked at the side of her mouth and her eyes smoldered, suggesting that she wasn't all innocence. Her voice was the same; the notes when from high and clear, then cascaded down to show off her impressive range. The words of her songs weren't always in the common tongue, but when they were Ashyr could tell she sang of happy days and of love and deep affection. It was all alien to a drow of the Underdark, but had a strange, heart-wrenching appeal that left the dark woman staring transfixed on Celeste.

Then it was over. Far too soon, by Ashyr's estimation. But when she blinked around the clearing she realized that it must have been a half-hour of entertainment. Maybe more. She looked to the crowd of people clustered in front of Celeste as saw how pleased they were with the beautiful human. That pale, dark-haired half-elf guard was still there, and Ashyr could see his expression from her place leaned casually against Celeste's wagon. There was such adoration in his face. Ashyr's gaze went back to Celeste to see if the human noticed. Apparently not; her attention was completely on the people of the village who had approached to talk amicably with her. The drow shrugged it off. Maybe her interests didn't swing that way? If that was the case, then that perfectly suited Ashyr. People wandered away, and him with them. Ashyr, however, stuck around Celeste for the rest of the night.

And a wonderful night it was, despite all of Ashyr's reservations. It seemed that Whitegrain didn't have much money to pay the troupe for their time. They made up for this with the abundance of food and wine they had in their stores. Strangely, the troupe seemed over than happy with that arrangement. Overjoyed, really. There was more singing, lots of dancing, eating drinking, and general merrymaking that overshadowed anything that Ashyr had ever experienced.

It was almost day again when everyone finally retired to their beds - mostly their own, which was strange. A drow party would have ended in orgy. This was unlike any drow party, however. Ashyr considered that mostly a good thing. The orgy would have been nice, though. She hadn't had a good fuck in ages. Instead, she was huddled in some warm, dry abandoned animal den wondering if Celeste was already asleep in her wagon, but unwilling to find out for sure. Oh well. There was time for pleasure. They still had several days of travel before reaching Port Afon.

--

Late the next morning, it was already time to pack up and get back on the road. The people of the town helped with that task less than they had helped set the green up the evening before. For most, there was planting to do in the cool early morning hours and other responsibilities to attend to. The troupe didn't seem at all offended by this. They went about their work in a happily subdued fashion, then rode out of the town of Whitegrain with the same quiet contentedness.

There wasn't another town to stop at between there and Port Afron, only days of walking that crawling, unhurried pace the caravan had. In some ways, It was frustrating for the dark elf who had places to be and a mission to carry out. A small, guilty part of her was happy to experience the first carefree days she had been exposed to in over a century.

Not that it was all gaiety all the time. Nothing in the world was.

Two days away from Whitegrain, when the sun was setting and the forest was becoming dark, Ashyr felt a tingle at the back of her neck. And then heard a suspicious rustling in the brush. Everyone else around her continued on as if nothing in the world was amiss. With furrowed brow, she broke slightly with the back of the caravan to see what the guards were doing near the front. Everyone there seemed to think that everything- no. That ugly, old half-orc guard had a twitching hand next to his weapon, and the too pretty half-elf was looking around at the forest with a look of slight bafflement in his features. Ashyr looked back to the guard in the middle, and the guard that was nearer her (both seemed oblivious) and signaled them to alertness.

Abruptly, hulking figures crashed through the brush. Ten in number, she thought - maybe a dozen - all surrounding the caravan. The ambushers were far outnumbered by their target, which brought a smile of derision to Ashyr's face. What on earth did they think they were- People began to scream and dart for cover as the orcs started to grab for them and for their belongings. Useless cowards; there was a perfectly good fight to be had!

Ashyr and the guards were not as useless. A mad grin on her face, she launched into an aggressive assault on the nearest orc who was looking at Celeste in a way that Ashyr did not like. Her dual blades blurred in a whirlwind of dismemberment and death, then she moved onto the next assailant, then the next. All the while, her white braids and chain-decorated loose hair twirling with her. Up the caravan she killed two, three, four of those ugly orcs until she reached the caravan's head where it seemed that more were clustering from the forest to block the caravan.

She found herself next to that pretty half-elf male. And it was a good thing she got there, too. That guard was apparently mostly for looks because he sure as the abyss was deep couldn't fight to save his life, let alone save any of the others. That guy seemed to be living on his luck alone (which, she had to say, was considerable; he had survived that fall back during the harpy incident). Well. Luck was with him again, because she was there.

As the tall, thin half-elf flailed his spear in the general direction of the orc, the hulking enemy easily dodged and began bringing his battleaxe down towards the pretty male's head. Ashyr slipped to the side in the orc's blind spot and neatly severed the tendon in his heel. The orc screamed in agony and stumbled to the side. But the blade was still coming down near the pretty half-elf. It sliced into his arm; a painful wound, but easily survivable. Luck favored him again.