Pt. 05

Ashara practically whistled as she worked. She had already gathered most of what she needed at the Cheepside market, the one the tourists never saw and that Tristanfell was not famous for, though Ash felt it should be. Now it was time for the piece de resistance, and she knew exactly where to find it.

Ash stepped out of the thick crowd thronging Gleeson street into a narrow alley that led uphill, away from the river. This little street, though obscure to most, was famous enough among those who knew of it. Known colloquially as "kinkster's alley" by those of a particular bent--and "weirdo lane" by those who pretended they weren't--it was lined with small, one-of-a-kind boutiques and artisan workshops crafting and selling wares you couldn't find anywhere else in the city.

Or in the Sunshine Coast for that matter.

Y: You know, I kinda dig "weirdo lane."

Si: I do too! And props to Tristanfell for being such a kinky place.

I: Oh, you have no idea...

A burly orc with chalky white skin leaned against the doorpost of his shop and waved as Ash walked past.

"Morning, Toff," Ash said with a smile. Toff, his muscled arms covered in tattoos, returned the smile.

"When are you gonna get some ink on that sexy body of yours?" he asked. "I can't believe you, of all people, don't have a single tattoo. It's not right," he jabbed.

Ash gave a chuckle and shrugged. "When it feels right, I guess," she called over her shoulder, continuing on up the narrow path. Though crowded with shops, there was little indication of what each offered until you walked inside, and this was by design. Other than the tattoo parlors and some of the other crafts and trades that still could claim at least a patina of social legitimacy, none of them sold items one could proudly display on a crowded thoroughfare like Gleeson street.

It was into one of these shops that Ash ducked, about three quarters of the way to the top of kinkster's alley.

Inside, it was dark and smelled heavily of insense. A couple of lanterns and the light from the open door were all that illuminated the small space, barely twelve feet across and only thirty feet deep. Lining the walls and a wooden rack positioned down the center of the space hung all manner of wrought metal objects--chains, wrist and ankle cuffs, neck collars--some with leather or cloth worked in alongside the iron, others bare, black, and cold.

Ash ran her hands reverently along the items as she slowly made her way to the back of the store. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, letting the cold, rigid touch of the metal and the scent of rust and leather take her to another space, one she loved to inhabit more than any other, where she felt closest to her true self.

Images of Kit and what she was about to do with her arose unbidden to her mind.

Why does that woman have to be so hot? Ash thought, frustration and desire mingling in her body and mind. I want to own her, she acknowledged to herself.

Ash left that thought unresolved, opened her eyes, and continued her saunter to the back of the tiny store.

At the back, sitting behind a work table covered in tools, links of chain, and straps of leather, sat a heavyset dwarf. His long, red hair, including a thick beard, failed to cover his bald crown but fell down to his waist when he was standing. Seated, the three braids of his beard lay on his impressive potbelly. Deep in his work, he failed to notice Ashara until she stood before him, the gleeful smile of a child in a toy shop radiating from her face.

Ash cleared her throat, startling the dwarf.

"Oh! It's just you, Ash. You shouldn't sneak up on me like that."

"But it's so fun to watch you at work, Florian," she replied.

"Yeah, well I never know when it's gonna be the morality police come to shut me down for "perverting the youth" or "disturbing the social order" or some moralizing nonsense like that."

"You're not wrong, Florian," Ash said with a certain sadness in her voice. "Has anyone been giving you trouble?"

"Naw," he said with an air of unaffected bravado. "I just know that people of our interests live on the edge of acceptable society. And when you live where we do, you're always keenly aware of how fragile your foundation really is."

Ashara frowned. "It's not so fragile as that, is it? I feel like the kink community here in Tristanfell could fend for itself if it needed to."

"Hm. Perhaps you're right," Florian conceded. "Though I'd rather not find out. I like doing my work in quiet."

"And I love the work you do," Ash responded with love and admiration. "So let's hope you keep getting to do it without anyone bothering you."

Florian grinned wide, clearly flattered. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he asked.

"About that," Ash began, a certain mischievousness creeping into her voice. "I was hoping you could help me find a set of chains..."

E: You guys are assholes.

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It didn't take Ash long to find her friends, hidden in an alley behind a stack of empty crates. All in all, she had only been gone an hour. The three of them had left the Hearthstone by the back kitchen door (Sixto knew some of the cooks) and made their way a short distance along alleys and side streets until they found this hideout, whereupon Ash had told them to stay hidden and promptly left on her shopping spree.

Kit greeted her colleague with a sour look as she approached. Sixto stepped out from behind the crates and eyed Ash with intense curiosity.

"Why so grim, Kit?" Ash asked cheerily. "Today, you get to work with one of the finest costume artists in the Sunshine Coast. And I mean that in all humility." She bowed with a flourish, the contents of her haversack shifting as she did so.

"What's that clinking sound?" Kit queried skeptically.

"Oh, that's just part of the disguise. We have to get you to Sixto's safe house, well, safe. But don't worry," Ash went on, "after this professional costumer is finished with you, those organized crime folks won't recognize you from two feet away." With that, Ash swung her pack to the ground, emitting a chorus of clinks and clanks, and began removing objects.

Kit leaned against the alley wall, her arms folded across her chest and a full pout on her face.

Looking up from her pack, Ash glanced Kit's way and nonchalantly said, "First things first, take off all your clothes."

"What?!" Kit's eyes opened wide in shock and her arms came unfolded. She stared at Ash kneeling on the alley floor.

Her tone unaltered, Ash replied, "It's a disguise, silly. We have to get you out of those easily-identifiable clothes and into something different." Slightly mollified but still wary and sour, Kit relaxed a bit but made no move to undress. "Don't worry, I've got your new outfit here." Ash held up a white cotton blouse and matching skirt.

Kit heaved a deep sigh, rolled her eyes to the heavens, and said, "Fine." Throwing Sixto a dirty look, she kicked off her boots, peeled off her socks, and pulled her tunic over her head.

"This reminds me of another time I was told to take all my clothes off," Kit mumbled as she felt the air on her bare skin. A moment later, her pants were off as well and Kit stood in her underwear, arms across her chest again, looking at Ash expectantly. Her mood was unimproved from earlier.

Ash glanced up and down the beautiful specimen before her. Then, reminding herself not to get distracted, selected a charcoal stick from an open tin, rubbed her hand along the filthy alley floor, and approached her friend.

"What are you doing?" Kit asked, clearly not liking the affair one bit. "I thought I was changing into new clothes.

"Makeup, darling," Ash cooed. Then, keeping as cool as she could, Ash reached out with her filthy hand and touched, Kit's cheek.

For what felt to both of them like a long moment, Ash's hand remained there, unmoving. The touch surprised Kit. It was the first time her friend had touched her like this, gently and with emotion. The bad mood and skepticism forgotten, Kit's face showed a vulnerable expression, mixed with a questioning look. For her part, Ash's mask of sardonic humor disappeared, a rare neutral, open expression taking its place.

Then Ash smeared the mud and dirt on her hand across Kit's cheek and smiled mischievously.

"There we go."

Using her charcoal stick and dirt from the alley, Ash very intentionally and artfully painted her friend's face. During the five or so minutes Ash worked, Kit stood in her bra and thong in a Tristanfell alley, obediently motionless. She wondered anxiously how long it would take someone to wander into the alley behind her, getting a surprise view of her bare ass. But she also felt the touch of Ash's fingers, watched her face as she settled into a flow, an artist at work. She discovered with sudden vulnerability that Ash was scrutinizing her face, taking in every shape, line, and dimple.

She discovered she liked the feeling. She felt her nipples stiffen. This was turning her on.

Finally satisfied, Ash drew back and appraised her work.

"What do you think, Sixto?"

Kit turned to face him, feeling her friends' eyes inspect her. She had no idea what her face looked like, but she remembered acutely that she was only wearing underwear.

"Not bad, Ash," Sixto said approvingly, doing his best to keep his eyes on Kit's face. "Not bad."

After appreciating her handiwork for a long moment, Ash smiled and said, "On to part two."

"Part two?" Kit asked.

"Yeah. Though you may want to take off your bra for this."

Kit's expression returned from open vulnerability to frustrated resentment in a flash. "Take off my bra?! Here in this alley? Why?"

"Oh, you can leave it on if you want," said Ash, as if what she had asked was totally harmless. "I just can't promise it won't get filthy if you do." She knelt down and applied more dirt to her hands, then picked up her charcoal and again approached the underwear-clad elf.

"Wait," Kit begged, placing her arms over her bra and taking half a step back. She did not like the idea of baring her breasts in a Tristanfell alley. She was sure it was only a matter of time before some rando saw her naked. But she also didn't want to ruin her bra; she knew she could ill-afford to replace it.

Besides, she thought ruefully, my friends have already gotten a good long look at my tits. Sighing deeply, Kit reached back and untied the straps at the base of her neck, then the knot beneath her shoulder blades. This wasn't hiding my nipples from view anyway. Not when they're this hard.

Recent events in the bullywug swamp notwithstanding, Ash stepped back and took in the view for several full seconds. One eyebrow went up and a smile crossed her face as she saw how firm her friend's nipples were. Ash reflected on their dark brown color and it caused them to stand out beautifully against the pale skin of her breasts. Kit frowned and covered herself with her arms.

"You just wanted to look at my nips, huh?" Kit accused.

"I mean, yeah I did. Still do," Ash replied, unapologetically. "But I meant what I said about not ruining your bra. I'm a costume artist, after all. These things matter to me." Kit eyed her skeptically. "Now put your hands on your head, please."

Now it was Kit's eyebrow that shot up. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Ash said, as if this were the most obvious request to make in the whole world. "I need access to your whole body."

A stone dropped to the bottom of Kit's belly. The swarm of vulnerable feelings churning through her gut was so powerful she forgot to be suspicious and annoyed. Instead, her face went blank in a way that made her look innocent as she processed the vortex of emotions within her.

Stay on task, Ash. Stay on task.

"Look, are we gonna do this, or are we gonna be here 'till the mob finds us by accident?" Sixto's voice was impatient and cynical, as usual, but it was no idle threat he mentioned. Kit was a wanted woman, and currently topless in an alley. She wanted to feel unexposed as soon as possible, and she knew that the longer she resisted, the more danger she was putting herself--and her friends--in. Suddenly, playing the modest girl seemed silly and immature, even reckless.

But giving Ash access to 'her whole body,' as requested, felt terribly exposed and vulnerable, too. Out of nowhere, it seemed, Kit was all at once faced with feelings for her friend she had never encountered before. Or perhaps they were always there, but easy to ignore.

Not anymore.

If I obey, what will this mean? Kit wondered. Does she think I'm beautiful? Do I want her to touch me like this? The questions that arose surprised Kit and only gave rise to yet more questions she didn't have answers to.

Slowly, reluctantly, Kit took her hands off her breasts and placed them on top of her head, elbows straight out. Feeling totally exposed, Kit stole a glance down at her body. As she feared, her nipples were erect and firm in the cool, morning air.

Traitors, Kit thought, utterly humiliated. Now Ash knows that doing this to me turns me on! Worse, Kit still couldn't put her finger on exactly why.

Too vulnerable and embarrassed to make eye contact with anyone, Kit stared down the alley over Ashara's shoulder, more aware of every square inch of her exposed skin than anything she was seeing.

With a gravitas that only she could wield, Ash slowly approached and placed a filthy hand on Kit's stomach. Kit instinctively flinched away upon contact, flexing her abdominal muscles. Still focused on a point at the mouth of the alley, Kit breathed deeply, consciously leaning into her friend's touch. It felt cool and grimy, but it was a connection to her friend unlike any they had shared up 'till now. Against her naked skin, it felt intimate, exciting, even erotic. Kit felt her nethers begin to churn.

Ash waited with her hand on Kit's belly for several breaths, riding the rise and fall of her beautiful friend's diaphragm and relishing the feel of her soft, bare skin against her hand. Then, as before, without breaking contact with Kit's body, Ash smeared dirt across her abdomen. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped from Kit's lips. Ash looked straight into her model's eyes, a look of deep satisfaction lingering on her features, but Kit stared steadfastly ahead, her breathing quick and shallow.

Ash began methodically painting her friend's body. She smeared dirt, applied her charcoal, then smudged and streaked both with her fingers and hands. At one point she suddenly grabbed Kit's right breast, then pulled away, causing Kit to gasp. The act left streaks of dirt and mud that instantly recalled groping or fondling. And when, just for fun, Ash tweaked one of Kit's large, firm tits between her fingers, Kit couldn't suppress a moan of surprise and delight.

Throughout it all, Kit stood as still as she could, though her belly heaved with her rapid, shallow breathing. Naked and with her hands on her head, Sixto thought anyone would look vulnerable. But he had to admit that the most vulnerable part of the whole affair was her face, all shields and defenses gone--cynicism, sarcasm, anger. Sixto could tell she was trying hard not to show her emotions, but it was plain for him to see--she felt every touch and caress as Ash painted her body: arms, breasts, stomach, back, thighs, calves, feet.

And for Kit it was so obviously all terribly exciting.

Sixto couldn't tell for sure from his side view (which afforded him a fantastic profile of Kit's firm but substantial ass), but he had no doubt she was wet between her legs. Six couldn't tell if what he was feeling, aside from the pure eroticism of it, of course, was jealousy or just loneliness. He didn't want to know, and shut the feeling out of his mind.

Finally, Ash broke out of her artistic flow and stepped back to survey her art piece. Kit looked down the alley as she had the entire time, oblivious to how she now looked, but from any other perspective she appeared dirty and worn from days in the elements.

But Ash was not done. She gave the white skirt and blouse to Kit and said, "Put these on." Perplexed, Kit finally focused her gaze on her friend.

"You want me to put these on now?"

"Unless you prefer to go out on the town like that," Ash offered as if it were an equally viable option. She gestured with one hand toward the magnificent naked specimen before her. Blushing deeply, Kit put the clothes on. Her firm breasts pouted under the thin blouse and, without her bra, her nipples clearly showed through. Arms at her sides, Kit stood there confused, looking part street urchin and part innocent flower girl.

Ash put a knuckle to her mouth as she scrutinized Kit'seneth artistically, planning her next move. Finally satisfied with the vision in her mind's eye, Ash drew a dagger from one of her tall, black boots and stepped up to within inches of her artwork.

"Hands on your head," she ordered in barely more than a whisper. This time, without any hesitation, Kit obeyed.

I'm already getting used to this, Kit thought, doing whatever Ash tells me to. And it all feels very comforting, in a new, unusual way.

Transfixed by the scene before him, Sixto felt the deep, lustful satisfaction roll off of Ashara in waves.

In two sudden, confident gestures, Ash grabbed a fistful of Kit's blouse and jabbed the dagger through it, tearing a long gash in the fabric. Kit gasped involuntarily. She was staring straight forward again. In rough, powerful motions, Ash continued to slash, tear and rend the garment. She frequently grabbed fistfuls of the cloth, leaving filthy streaks and smears behind. After making short work of her new purchase, Ash stepped back once more to examine her work.

All that remained of the blouse was a filthy tattered thing that was far too short to even be called a crop top. From the right, the side of Kit's breast was clearly visible. From there, a long, ragged, diagonal tear left the garment longer on Kit's left side, but with so much of the fabric missing a significant amount of underboob was teased from the front. To Sixto, it looked like it might blow away in a mild breeze.

Ash nodded approvingly, then set to work in like manner on Kit's skirt. All the while, Kit held her hands on her head, elbows out, eyes fixed on some point down the alley. In a matter of moments, the skirt was in shreds. One one side a rent went all the way to the waist, and Ash had ripped the fabric away entirely for a significant length behind that point, exposing a good portion of Kit's ass. On the other side, Ashara had left torn fabric dangling down, nearly to the ground. In front of Kit's crotch, Ash had shorn the skirt short, leaving her with little more than a flimsy loin cloth. Sixto was sure that the act of walking would clearly reveal her thong-clad pussy.

Both blouse and skirt were filthy and smeared with dirt.

To Sixto, Kit looked like the most miserable of street urchins, or else a recently subjugated captive--dragged across wilderness to be sold at the Tristanfell slave auction.

"Amazing," he said reverently after looking Kit up and down. "I can't believe you just did that. It took you, what, all of thirty minutes?"

Ash looked Kit over and shrugged. "About that." Then she looked at Sixto and said, "Thanks." And she meant it. Six and Ash hadn't had many interactions that weren't dominated by sarcasm, dry humor, or skepticism.

Surprised at the sincerity in Ash's face and tone, he took a moment to say, "You're welcome." And he meant it, too.

"So what, do I walk across town looking like I just survived an attack by a pack of cloth-eating wolves?" Kit asked.

Aaaaand the cynicism was back.

"No, my sexy tart," Ash replied, with a twinkle in her milky white eye. "You walk across town like a captive headed for the slave auction." Ash paused a moment to let the implications of her words stew in Kit's head, then bent to retrieve the last items from the bottom of her pack. The loud, unmistakable clink of iron and chains filled the quiet alley ominously. Kit eyed the objects in Ashara's hands with dread.