"In these times, life can be tough for a female adventurer."
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A gust of brisk air swept into the tavern as the door swung open, followed by a group of men looking to fill their bellies and slake their thirst.
Cara, sitting at the bar, tightened her fur lined cloak. She peered into her mug of ale. It was empty. She would've summoned the barkeeper, but her mind was elsewhere. A strange warmth kindled in her loins.
It was the unmistakable sensation of arousal. She couldn't discern the spark of this feeling, but it certainly wasn't the barkeeper's looks.
She began to slowly rock her hips back and forth, feeling her labia rubbing against the rough wood of the bar stool. Bumps and ridges could be felt through her leggings and linen undergarments, teasing her with a promise of more. She closed her eyes and focused on this nucleus of stimulation.
"Miss? More ale?". It was the barkeeper.
"Yes, please," she sat up, flustered. "Thank you." She reached under her cloak and retrieved some coppers from her coin purse.
Why was her body so needy, so restless?
This morning, she had been ambushed by a group of outlaws. They were defeated by her sword and her skill. But, as one of them lay dying, he began to speak. "A hex upon you! A curse of unending arous-" His words were cut short by her blade.
At the time she thought nothing of it, just the dying rant of a desperate man, but now, given her present state, she wondered if the outlaw had knowledge of some evil magic. A troubling thought. She felt the pendant around her neck and checked the ring on her hand. They should protect her from such maladies, but magic can be fickle.
A wetness was spreading in undergarments. She snapped out of her thoughts to find she was knuckle deep in her vagina. When did she move her hand down there?
She glanced around the tavern to see if anyone had spied her mischief. The other patrons were busy with their drinks and conversations. One table had drunkenly started a song. Servants hurried with their tasks, serving tables and stoking the fire.
Cara was getting warm. She opened the front of her cloak, revealing her white woolen shirt and a sleeveless leather jerkin on top. The fit was loose, but one could discern the shape of her ample bosom beneath.
The barkeep gave an appreciative look as he walked by with empty mugs. "Nice necklace," he said, but that wasn't the focus of his eyes. Cara tucked the pendant under her shirt, preferring to keep it concealed.
She would have to see a priest in the morning, but for now she attempted to rub herself secretly.
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A man stepped up to the bar next to Cara and ordered an ale. She removed her hand from her leggings and composed herself, waiting for him to speak to her. He ignored her. She turned towards him slightly and gave an inviting smile. He shuffled over a step. Was he really just getting an ale?
She had to make the first move. "Hey there."
"Aye," he grunted, glancing at her.
Didn't he find her attractive?
"I was thinking," she moved to grab his arm, "why don't we-"
"Ah, sorry miss, I appreciate the offer, but I'm here with friends." He grabbed a mug of ale and hurried away.
Cara was taken aback, but recovered and pursued him, "Wait, I wouldn't mind meeting your friends." He stopped and turned, and Cara bumped into him and a large portion of ale sloshed out onto his shirt.
"Clumsy tramp!" He looked down.
Cara glanced around sheepishly. A few patrons looked in her direction. The barkeep eyed her suspiciously, wondering if she was going to be a problem. She took a silver coin from her purse and handed it to the man.
"Sorry for the trouble." The man walked back to the bar, and Cara stood there feeling foolish.
Why won't her body settle down? She was normally quite content to wait for a man to proposition her, and if none did so much the better! It meant she could get a full night's sleep.
"Rejection ain't easy, especially for an attractive woman." It was a voice from a long table along the wall. There were a dozen men, maybe more, seated. A group of mercenaries? Adventurers? They were all unarmed, of course, like Cara. All weapons had to be surrendered to the Tavern Master before entering. But from their dress it was clear they were more than simple farmers or laborers.
"Excuse me?" Cara looked at the one who addressed her.
"Just saying it's rough to get rejected like that in front of a whole group of strangers. I think we've all been there, right boys?" The men seated near him erupted into laughter, and the rest of the table looked over to see what was going on.
The man continued, "I'd like to make an offer. If you're so desperate for some cock, I can provide."
Cara blushed. Not because of his vulgarness, she's heard worse, but because she realized just how desperate she was. What had come over her?
"I'm not desperate, I'm just looking to relax after a hard day of travel." Cara lied. Her pussy was dripping. For a moment, she wanted every man in that tavern to take her, but the thought faded before it could fully materialize. A good thing too, else she might've immediately stripped naked.
"Alright lass, you can relax with my cock. For two gold coins!" He took a swig of ale.
"An insult. I could hire a whore for a week for that price, and they'd be more appealing than you." Though he wasn't ugly. He was clean shaven, with untidy windblown hair, probably 10 years Cara's senior.
