|| -- Chapter 8 -- ||
Abigail stood in the dimly lit shop, staring at the ceiling. It had been a full minute since Clara left with the shopkeeper, and she was bored.
"What to do, I wonder...." She said to herself. However, her boredom didn't last long.
The tentacle inside her shirt shifted over her breasts, squeezing its slimy body around her chest. The motion sent tingles racing out over her skin, a deep blush filled her cheeks. The aphrodisiac in its secretions heightened the sensitivity of her breasts and, as it brushed over her nipples, her breath caught at the sensation.
"Settle down, girl..." Abigail squeezed her arms together, subtly pushing against the sides of her breasts with her arms. However, the motion seemed to encourage the tentacle to go further.
It traced a looping path around her breasts, spinning a figure eight inside her shirt. With every loop, its tail flicked over her nipples and caused the heat in Abigail's cheeks to grow worse. It felt like she would go crazy from the teasing touch.
Her cock hardened inside her shorts, creating an obvious tent in the fabric. As the aphrodisiac seeped deeper into her breasts, her arousal grew higher, and the glans of her cock throbbed with anticipation. Despite her attempts to hold back the warmth in her lower half, she felt precum dribbling out of her tip and staining her panties.
"I swear..." Abigail withdrew her dagger, holding it up. "If you don't stop squirming, I'll make you..."
Her cheeks were bright red, breathing heavy. In a different circumstance, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself from masturbating right then and there. With the combination of aphrodisiacs and the teasing touch of the tentacle at her chest, the needy arousal felt impossible to ignore. However, this wasn't the right place for such things.
"I'm serious..." Abigail held the tip of her dagger up to her shirt, letting the point tickle the frayed threads of her top. "Stop moving around so much."
"Grnwww?" The tentacle gave a muffled chirp, and it came to a stop at last.
Abigail breathed a sigh of relief, and she looked around herself. There were windows facing the street outside, but no one had seen her, thankfully. The dark interior of the magic shop made it difficult to see inside, and few spared a glance at the dilapidated shop.
(I wonder when Clara will return, though. I didn't think it would take them that long to find a book...) Abigail turned, looking around the shop.
There were countless magic items on display, piled up on display tables in orderly lines. From magic rings, to magic necklaces, it was surprising for such expensive items to not be hidden behind a display case, but she figured it was an extension of the strange magic shop's quirks.
None of the items had price tags on them, and Abigail had heard rumors that the 'payment' here was more costly than money. Those that bought items from the shady shop required them to do other things in return, like harvesting rare monster materials and such--similar to a barter system.
(Oh, that's interesting.) A peculiar item caught Abigail's eye--a singular glove resting on the end of a display table. Like the other items, it didn't have any label or price attached to it, and she began to wonder if it was really a magic item at all.
"I wonder if someone left their glove here..." Abigail picked it up, examining the item closer.
The glove had openings where the fingers usually went in. It was a 'fingerless' glove design. She had often looked at them, but she had never been able to justify the expenditure. The fingerless design gave the glove better dexterity, which she needed as a rogue, but all it would do was protect against calluses.
(Avoiding a few calluses never seemed worth the price.) She thought to herself, and she turned the glove over in her hand.
The glove was the perfect size for her, and it fit her needs. Only her dominant hand carried her dagger, so she needed only one glove, and the glove was for one's dominant hand. If she were more superstitious, she might assume it was fate to find the glove here.
(This doesn't look magical... Perhaps someone accidentally left their glove behind.) Abigail thought to herself. (If someone left it behind and forgot about it, they wouldn't mind me taking it, right?)
It was a dumb thought. Even if it wasn't an item to be sold, she ought to turn over the glove to the shopkeeper. However, Abigail hesitated.
(It wouldn't hurt to try on, would it?) Even if it was a magical item for sale, or a lost item, she could at least try it on. She was curious about fingerless gloves, and it seemed like a good fit...
Abigail stretched out her fingers, slipping them into the glove. She only got a few inches before the leather glove came to life. Before she could react, the item jumped onto her hand, fully enveloping her palm in the soft leather.
"What the-?" She reeled back, but it was too late. The glove was cursed. "Wait, what are you doing-?!"
Her newly gloved hand unzipped her shorts, and it pulled out her still erect cock. After the tentacle's teasing, it had left her pent up, and as if relieving those urges, the glove wrapped her fingers around her cock, stroking it slowly.
"Wait, seriously, I'm..." Abigail trailed off, and a moan escaped her lips. She bent over, knees trembling as her dexterous fingers stroked her cock. Her hand didn't even feel like her own anymore. It was as if everything beyond her wrist had taken on a life of its own.
The glove stroked her cock in slow methodical pumps, squeezing extra tight around her glans. Every additional pump made Abigail's head spin, and tingles of pleasure raced out of her tip. Despite the strange situation, her precum drooled out of her cock and dripped down between her legs.
(This is bad, I'm making a mess... No, that's not what I should be worrying about!) She had a cursed glove now controlling her hand. She ought to be worrying more about the strange magic possessing her fingers, but it felt difficult to think as the pseudo-masturbation continued.
Her thumb pushed forward, rubbing a circle over her tip, and her fingers fluttered over her shaft to accentuate the touch. Despite the glove not having any fingers to it, the magic manipulated her digits like a skilled musician, gliding them over her sensitive member.
"Please, wait.. I'm- Ah." Abigail let out another moan, and her eyes fluttered.
The sensations from beyond her wrist disappeared, and all she felt was the stimulation to her cock. It felt like it truly belonged to someone else, and she whimpered as the foreign hand rubbed her cock. All she could do was moan as the expert fingers manipulated her member.
"Abi, are you okay?" Clara stepped out of the back room, and Abigail's eyes widened in surprise.
"Yes." She nodded quickly and straightened up. However, the gloved hand continued to stroke her cock insistently. It was hidden below the table, but Abigail's cheeks burned in embarrassment.
As the shopkeeper followed in after Clara, a wave of guilt washed through her. She had accidentally touched one of the magic items, and now she was masturbating right in the middle of the shop. She had no idea what the true purpose of the glove was, or if it was normal for the glove to jack-off its host, but her cheeks burned in embarrassment and guilt.
Thankfully, or tragically perhaps, the shopkeeper didn't pay her any mind. She guided Clara over to an opposite table, and placed the book in front of them. "How about I explain how to use this book, shall I?"
"Yes, Mistress." Clara nodded. "Please give me your guidance once more."
