Author's note: Sorry for the wait on this chapter, guys. I was on vacation. I'm back now though and I'm gonna work on getting chapters out on a regular basis again. This chapter introduces a few new characters with a lot of sex! As always I'd love to hear any feedback or suggestions you might have. Please rate and comment!
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, places and characters are products of my imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people and events are purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of consent.
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Countess Eliana
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Eliana laid on the large four poster bed, rocking back and forth as her husband, Count Owen Eryon, humped her in missionary position.
"Ugh... Ugh... Ugh..." The count moaned with each motion, and soon came inside her. Eliana turned her face to hide her frown of disappointment. The count stood and wiped his already flaccid penis with the sheets, and dressed himself. "That was great, my dear." He said, out of breath. "I must go now. I have a meeting with the consortium."
Eliana didn't respond, and sighed to herself after her husband left. She rose from the bed and cleaned herself, and looked at herself in the mirror. The countess had been truly blessed by the gods, the reflection in the mirror looked like something straight out of legend. She had the regal features of a royal, high brows and cheekbones, a well defined chin line that looked as if it had been sculpted out of marble, and dark, smoky eyes which smouldered with sexuality even without the help of makeup. If someone had said she was descended from the goddess Niesa herself, no one would have batted an eye.
As royal as Eliana appeared, however, it could not change the circumstances of her station. She'd been born to a poor peasant family, and her parents had recognized her great beauty since she was very young. They saved all they could in order to send her to the city, where she went to school and learned to behave like a lady. She did all she could to act like a noblewoman, but could never dream of affording the dresses, the jewelry, and the lifestyles of the nobles at the capital. The ladies of the capital often ridiculed the way she dressed and her peasant background. The pretty ones were especially harsh, jealous of the fact that, pretty as they were, they could never match the divine beauty of Eliana. She dreamt of a day when she'd have all the money she'd ever need and could mingle with the nobles of the royal court.
Once she became of age, Eliana never had a shortage of suitors. Some were young dukes and counts bedazzled by her beauty, and some were rich old lords and barons looking for a hot young mistress. After much deliberation, she had finally agreed to marry Owen Eryon, her now husband. Owen was the son of the leader of the Silver Medallion Consortium, a coalition of merchants who dealt in mining and smithing. His family was enormously wealthy, and it didn't hurt that Owen himself was tall and dashingly handsome. Eliana had thought she'd made the right choice, as she no longer needed to worry for money at all, and could finally afford all the luxuries she'd dreamt of.
However, her bliss was short-lived. The high society she so desperately sought to be a part of still excluded her, and the ladies at court still looked down upon her. To them, no matter how rich she might have become, she was still a plebeian, a trophy wife of a lower count. She had all the material objects she could want, but now she yearned for more. Her once handsome husband who used to fuck her brains out every day is now pot-bellied and lacked the youthful energy he once had, not to mention he was constantly busy once he'd taken over his father's business.
Eliana tried to encourage her husband to climb the social ladder. She wanted him to go to the parties, grab the attention of the higher lords, perhaps even volunteer his services to the crown, in hopes that he'd one day be raised to a duke. However, as a son of a businessman, Owen only cared for gold and did not have the ambition to climb the ranks of nobility.
Eliana ground her teeth in frustration in front of the mirror. She'd been a good and faithful wife, and did everything her husband asked of her. But now she squared her jaw and made up her mind: she would languish no more in her current position. She wasn't going to spend the rest of her life being mocked by everyone around her. She knew the value of her beauty, and wasn't going to let it go to waste.
"Damien!" She shouted, and her slave rushed in the room.
"You called, m'lady?" The slave asked.
"Fetch my cloak. We're going to Ingrid's party."
"A..Are you sure, m'lady?" Damien stammered.
Eliana glared at the slave, as if daring him to comment further.
"It's just... M'lady... Lady Ingrid's parties have a rather... unsavory reputation." Damien pushed on haltingly while sneaking glances at the countess to judge her mood.
Damien was right, and Eliana almost decided against going to the party. Countess Ingrid Eorten was perhaps the only noblewoman who did not look down on Eliana. Her husband was also a merchant, and was often away on business, and in her husband's absence, she'd hold lavish parties for the elite. The parties themselves were innocent enough, and often boring. It was what happened after these parties that Damien spoke of. It was rumored that afterwards, some of the guests would then don masks to hide their identities, and participate in wild orgies.
Lady Ingrid herself was quite a slut, to call it an open secret would be an understatement, but it was understood that once one donned the mask, they were anonymous, regardless of whether their identities were as obvious as a thief stealing a bell. Her husband had even caught her many times, but could not divorce her lest he become the laughingstock of the entire capital, for to do so would be to openly admit being cuckolded.
Eliana hesitated. There would be no question of why she was at the party if she went without her husband.
But I must go... to... to...
