In Cecil's early days at The Bull and Mare, before crowds filled the inn, she often found herself bored. Not the boredom of an idle afternoon, but a boredom that rattled her to the core. Days would sometimes pass between visitors, and the few visitors they did receive were exceedingly dull: farmers going to market, merchants stopping for a quick drink and the like.
Even more rare were guests she had any desire to share a bed with. In fact, in the weeks since her arrival, she had not slept with a single patron. Worse still, Richard the innkeeper's ogrish wife kept both him and his son Georg under constant watch, preventing a repeat of their lovely introduction. Oh, what she would do for an afternoon with either; Richard had been a surprisingly good lover with excellent technique, while Georg made up for his youthful inexperience with passion, a cute face and a rather stout cock.
One spring afternoon, as Cecil sat by a window praying to the gods for more excitement than her fingers could provide, her ears twitched on hearing the clink of heavy armor.
Cecil's nipples perked at the sight of a tall and incredibly handsome man in the doorway. His shiny plate armor had nary a scratch, but the wench was far more interested in the body inside the metal. His skin was a rich coffee tone, youthful and smooth. A profoundly strong jaw, high cheekbones and a wavy plume of thick black hair lent an appearance more of a young noble than that of a battle-hardened warrior as his suit of armor would suggest.
What a treat, perhaps I can convince this young knight to stay awhile, Cecil thought to herself. A young, handsome one like this, I wonder if he'll be as eager as Georg was?
Cecil squished her small but full breasts high into her dress and pulled an errant lock of curly brown hair from her face. She hopped up from the table and waved to the guest. "Welcome, welcome to The Bull and Mare! I'm Cecil. We have decent food, better ale, and just the best beds - trust me, they never squeak no matter how you put them through the paces. Happy to test if you'd like... can I start you with a drink?"
"No drink for me, madam, just a room," said the man, his voice carrying an overabundance of confidence Cecil knew could only belong to someone who had never been tested before.
"Madam? No need to be so formal," Cecil said with a giggle. "Unless you mean to think I'm the madam of a whorehouse, which alas, we are not. Just little me, biding my time, serving as the wench, waiting for a handsome man... what about a meal?"
"Just the room, please."
Such a shame all the good looking ones are in such a rush.
"Of course, we have a few rooms available. Hot day isn't it?" Cecil unbuttoned the top of her shirt, making sure the smooth, supple skin of her breasts was visible. "Might I ask what brings you to the Bull and Mare, sir..." Cecil held the last word as to ask him to share his name.
"I'm not a sir yet," confided the young knight, his deep brown eyes locking with Cecil's green eyes. "I'm on my way to capture that title in fact. By tomorrow evening, I will earn the favor of Princess Petunia and be knighted Sir Gallavan, Cockatrice Slayer!"
"Ah, Princes Petunia has called for a hunt. A Cockatrice, you say? Are you ready to handle such a big, thick, girthy monster?" Cecil asked. I'd rather talk about your cock than a bloody Cockatrice, she thought. Not a scratch on his armor, clearly the impulsive young man would end up a snack for the monster.
"Of course I am! I am to be a Knight. I may have limited training, born into a family of merchants, but I will not follow such an idle path. My training may be... light, but I have the heart and the strength to see this done!"
He is going to get his big, beautiful, dumb body killed, Cecil thought. She dunked a cloth into a bucket of water and wiped her neck, being sure to splash her shirt until her nipples could easily be seen through it. "Oh my, how clumsy of me," Cecil said, presenting her damp breasts. She licked her lips suggestively. "Maybe you could help me out of these damp clothes..."
"I need to rest; I must wake early, that I reach the Cockatrice before any others. Thank you, if I might have the key to my room," Gallavan said, slamming a stack of coins on the bar.
"Alright then," Cecil said. She deftly hooked the hem of her dress into her belt, then turned around. As she bent over to grab the key from a small chest, she knew the would-be knight would have a clear view of her nethers. She wiggled her ass seductively. "These keys are always such a tangle. "
Cecil looked over her shoulder and was smacked with disappointment to find Gallavan staring out the window. She twirled the key around her finger and walked around the bar. Approaching the young man, the smell of lilacs greeted her nose - the sign of a man well bathed. She looked at his fingers, and noticed how soft and smooth they were.
Cecil inched up against Gallavan and pressed her hand against his armor. "Your armor is so striking! I love the feeling of something big, something hard, something stiff pressing against my skin."
Cecil pushed her crotch against the plate over Gallavan's thigh and gyrated her hips.
"Actually, that's quite the misconception!" Gallavan said, jumping back. "Armor is actually quite light and easy to move about in. See?"
The would-be knight twirled on one foot with the grace and elegance of dancer. He then hopped then jumped, pirouetting through the air.
"And now, for my key... what was your name again?"
"Cecil," she sighed, handing over the key. "Call me should you need anything. You can have the room at the back of the inn, it's the largest. Fitting for a knight-to-be."
*****
Cecil told herself it was the right thing to do as she approached Gallavan's room in the early evening. It just wouldn't do to have such a handsome face spoiled by such a nasty beast! Cecil was also quite convinced the young man had never seen Princess Petunia, as if he'd seen the horror that was the not only ugly but also incredibly mean princess, he'd be as likely to slay the woman as he was the Cockatrice.
Standing in front of the door to Gallavan's room, Cecil inspected her attire. She had forsaken her dress for a lacy green bustier and wore silken underwear to match - pilfered on her way out from the coven of the Witches of Clendol. She adjusted her top and pressed it smooth against her toned stomach. She silently cursed the Witches of Clendol, wishing they had boosted her tits from their modest size to something a bit more ample while they were enchanting her orifices to always be wet and sized perfectly for any partner. "Too demanding," they had told her, but to Cecil it was just a small ask, wanting enough breast to comfortably wrap around a cock. As satisfied as she could be, Cecil knocked on the door.
"Yes, who is it?" came Gallavan's voice.
"It's Cecil. I forgot to mention, we have a special offering for knights such as yourself," she said as she let herself into the room. Gallavan stood armorless in a simple linen shirt and pants, his rippling muscles visible through the sheer top. He might not be knight material, but he'll do for a night with me! Cecil thought.
