A New Rose In Bloom (Chyril 27, Early MT)

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin awoke to the gentle snore of her furry little bedmate, Cicero’s spindly little arm draped over her face, his fingers curled in her hair as if he were clinging to his mother’s fur in his sleep. Aerin smiled. She lay there for a few flickers longer before unweaving her tresses from Cicero’s grip and rising from the bed, the morning air cool and crisp on her skin in stark contrast to the relative warmth of the bed. There was a series of cracks as she lazily rolled her head in a circle, the pops relieving tension in one fluid movement.

It was time to really move in.

She looked around the room and took in her surroundings – not that there was much to take in at the moment. A lone drawer in the dresser was pulled partway out, the washed-but-still-stained dress from the Mother’s Temple folded haphazardly within not for normal storage, but rather a tidy little bed for Cicero. It was, she could tell by looking, virtually untouched as her tiny companion seemed to prefer cuddling with her (after she had fallen asleep, of course) rather than spend the night in his own ‘bed’. Aerin, for the most part, was comfortable with that fact and did as she had done every morningtide since receiving him and gingerly picked her pet up off of her pillow and placed him back into his drawer where he could finish sleeping.

Once Cicero was secured, she looked to her bag atop the dresser, its contents bulging in their normal form as she picked it up and moved it to the bed where she had room to work. First came her personal alchemy kit as she withdrew her powder, rouge, perfume, comb, mirror, and soap, placing the items atop the dresser where the bag had previously lay. Her eyes looked toward the small table near the window as she returned to the bed and withdraw her magical supplied – a mishmash of items that she highly doubted would serve any useful function within Ashari’s scope of teaching, but she went ahead and set them out for use in any event, placing the alchemy substances along the back edge of the table near the wall, the book that Professor Pralix had given her on alchemy at one end of the bottles with her journal atop it, followed by the concise placement of her blank parchment, ink well, and quill.

Aerin paused for a moment, taking in the morning air as she pulled on the light robe that she had left on the chair the night before, her thick red curls tugging almost pleadingly at the neckline of the gown as she pulled it free of the cloth trappings, her skin singing a comforting song as the cloth caressed it softly. Once more, she smiled, turning from the window and back to the bag on the bed. Next came Pain and Agony, her stilettos, Pain riding in comfort on her outer belt while Agony was strapped to the child-sized belt which often rode on the top of her right thigh – hidden from view, but within reach in the event of an attack. Her thoughts turned to Paulie and his goons and Aerin found herself grateful that the dress that she had worn to the coronation had been too tight to wear either and that Rat had more than hammered it into her mind never to enter such a situation armed with anything but your mind. Had she tried to use the blades on Paulie, odds were good that she would have found herself dead long before either tasted blood.

With care, she laid the blades and their accessories onto the bed, withdrew a bodice, a chemise, and skirt, placing them atop the items and adding her sandals to the pile, followed by her bracers. Her outfit selected, Aerin withdrew the rest of the clothes from the bag and placed them upon the proper hooks and hangers in the closet, making sure that everything was fairly creaseless and free of any of the small items which remained in her bag.

She moved once more to the dresser and removed the thick wool blanket, placing it within a higher drawer than the one Cicero occupied and carefully stashed her eating utensils, flint and steel, and her coin belt within the folds, hoping that none of Ashari’s friends were the type to steal from her students.

She closed that drawer and opened the next, choosing a spot at the back to place the trinkets that she had received from her rime with Morgan and Becca below the Red Banner, as well as the bone ring that Rat had given to her, the small mouse skull set upon the bone circlet a hollow reminder of an even more hollow promise. As an afterthought, she placed the rest of her belongings within the same drawer, the stinging nettle and the now-empty bag, and carried what little tobacco she had left over to the small table before turning back to the bed.

Right… she thought with a somewhat happy sigh as she stepped forward and allowed the robe to stay behind. The chemise came first, her hands once again insisting that her thick mane reside outside of the clothes instead of within them, followed by the child’s belt around her upper thigh, Agony feeling quite at home against her supple flesh as if he had been designed as a part of her natural body and only added externally as an afterthought.

She pulled on the skirt next, followed by the bodice and bracers, tightening down the straps as best she could by herself and wondering all the while why noblewomen actually used servants to pull them even tighter still. Pain was the last item to go into place, her position upon Aerin’s body the opposite of her sister’s, the visible stiletto riding comfortably upon the redhead’s left thigh.

She left her sandals on the bed, as she did not want to wake Cicero, and stood by the dresser as she gazed into the mirror and applied the lightest touches of makeup, checking her face in the mirror both there and by the window where the lighting was better in order to insure that she looked ‘pretty’ but not too made up or whorish. Mirror in hand she returned to the bed and took a seat, half a mark passing as she created four pinky-finger-width braids in her hair, two at each temple, and tied the upper two together below he rest of her hair, tucking the loose hair tightly behind the braids before combing it out to a healthy and manageable mane. She then took the two lower braids and bound them together atop the hair at the back of her head so that the four braids together formed dainty X’s on the sides of her hair and allowed the locks some freedom while still keeping them out of her face.

After blowing a small kiss to herself in the mirror, Aerin put the tool back upon its resting spot on the dresser, quietly made the bed, put on her sandals, and crept out into the hallway where she planned to go downstairs and begin cooking breakfast for herself, Ashari, and anyone else that Ashari may have already had over or had invited to come over that morningtide..

[Grey Wolf]

The house was quiet that morning, though the meeting earlier than nightlasted well into the Gravetide, Ashari's visitors leaving just before the crack of dawn. As it turned out, not all of them had left, and Aerin walked past a couch upon which an elderly man slept, snoring masterfully. What his snore lacked in strength it more than made up in the never-ending pattern of high-pitched wheezing inhale, followed by a deep rumbling exhale. The room he resided in smelled faintly of fish and salt air of the sea, his face a mass of wrinkles. The man was smiling in his sleep, his legs twitching from time to time, his eyes moving behind closed lids. He was dreaming and by the looks of it, the dream was a vivid and action packed one.

[Ashari]

Ashari rolled over in her bed upstairs, but didn't stir. It had been a late night, and as such, she was prepared for a good lie-in. Infact, she thought she deserved it. She'd been quite productive of late, and had been getting all sorts of things settled and had even begun formulating plans of how to deal with junior Crane. For now she would sleep, and sleep soundly. It would take either someone wanting her awake, or a loud noise to raise her from her slumber.

OOC: Place holder. Don't want to miss out if anything goes down. Hehehe. You can ignore me otherwise. I'm content with some sleep.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

She had taken a fresh peek around as she walked through the house, once again noting the dust and neglect which seemed to blanket almost every flat surface, save for the couch which was blanketed with a living person. Aerin came to a stop before him, her head tilting to the side as she studied the man's sleeping form, her eyes moving from head to toe and back again. He looked so peaceful to her. So relaxed. A part of her wanted to fetch him a blanket or sheet to make him a little more comfortable, but another part of her told her to let him be – that if she were to touch him, he would probably awaken none too happy about the experience.

His presence, as well as the presence of all of the dust, however, had shoved thoughts of breakfast out of her mind and replaced it with a stronger maternal instinct...an almost nesting instinct.

Ashari had mentioned having a cleaning staff, but Aerin took it upon herself to quietly find a rag of some type, using her hand if she couldn't, and began dusting carefully, leaving Ashari's office alone since it was both Ashari's personal space and, from the general vibe that Aerin had gotten when they had converged there for breakfast the previous day, something of a shrine to a memory of something or someone.

And so she cleaned around the old man and the couch, working on shelves and flat surfaces as the smell of the old man and the sea brought her own memories to mind – memories of a green-faced redhead drowning her seasickness in rotgut whiskey and the company of seafaring men like Ashari's house guest as she sailed from Murrelbuck to the Citadel. One of those memories was musical in nature and she softly sang along with the chorus of men in her memories, both unsure and uncaring as she recited the chantey if the words were, indeed, accurate at all.

“I'm a fisherman's son got fisherman's ways
I fished with my father in my young days
I learned the fine craft of the fisherman's trade
Just to pass to my son so he'll do the same

The sea is my lifeline the shore is my home
I've been to your cities I didn't stay long
I stared at the bright lights the dark city ways
I'll tell you that's not for me, no I couldn't stay

Singin'
la la la la la la
la la la la la la la

Some days are rough so we roll with the waves
This living is tough and slack is the pay
But we leave with the sunrise we wake at the dawn
Singin' the fisherman's song

Singin'
la la la la la la
la la la la la la la

I'm a fisherman's son got fisherman's blood
Just hauling the lobster and jigging the cod
And if you don't like me then leave me alone
And I'll go on singing my fisherman's song

Singin'
la la la la la la
la la la la la la la

I'm a fisherman's son got fisherman's ways
I fished with my father in my young days
I learned the fine craft of the fisherman's trade
Just to pass to my son so he'll do the same

Singin'
la la la la la la
la la la la la la la”*

She would continue to sing and clean until interrupted or until the room was finished, whichever came first.

OOC: * “Fisherman Song” by Family Rankin - I did not write this tune, but Aerin felt like singing.

[Grey Wolf]

A cupboard in the kitchen was stuffed full of folded rags, a peculiar brass contraption stuffed into the corner of it. It was a brass bottle jug, closed shut by a screwed on cap, a trumpet like attachment sticking out the side of the cap. Under the trumped rested a steel ring, a piece of steel linking it with the cap, disappearing in a hole bored in the brass. The odd-looking jug lacked any other marks save for a carving upon its side, image depicting a simple smiling face with a pair of thick mustaches under its nose. In was quite heavy and some sort of liquid sloshed inside it should Aerin choose to pick it up.

The man did not stir as the girl sand her little shanty, though he did react to the sound of the voice, his snore soon changing its rhythm to match the rhythm of her singing. She had a proper musical backdrop for the song, almost a full band given that he did both the bassy rumble and a high-pitched wheeze. The chorus seemed to be quite to his liking, the tone of his snoring becoming louder, almost as if he were doing it on purpose.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin chuckled a bit at the sleeping man, her thoughts of him being a fisherman from the smell seemingly well-founded. Although she could not remember any of the other fishing chanties that the sailors had sung – although she could remember bits and pieces of one which asked what someone should do with a drunken sailor – the only other fish-related thing that she could remember was an odd game that a handful of them had played with her, each asking her to find a fish that they had supposedly hidden within the berthing although, as she later found out, there had been no fish at all, save for the sailor she had 'caught' once everyone had tired of the game and she had been swept off for a round of 'find the good feeling'.

Her cleaning seemed to be somewhat fitting with the game as well, as she carefully looked for and wiped away dust, pretending to look for the fish all over again while altering her voice slightly to imitate different people – including herself at times. “I wonder where that fish has gone.” she asked in light falsetto, her voice quickly deepening into a more sultry, husky voice. “You did love it so. You looked after it like a son.” She dusted off a high shelf, switching back to the falsetto. “And it went wherever I did go.” She opened a cupboard, making up questions as she went along, her voice husky once more. “Is it in the cupboard?” She switched back to her own voice as she quickly dusted off the inner shelves. “Yes! Yes! No!...” Her face held a smirk despite the false disappointment in the final word at not finding a fish, but rather a small cloud of dust despite the closed doors.

Lost in her own little world, Aerin carefully reached above the couch, taking care not to disturb Ashari's guest by dropping dust down onto him. “Wouldn't you like to know? It was a lovely little fish.” she continued, her voice low once more before rapidly switching to falsetto. “And it went wherever I did go.” She squinted her eyes as she looked at the sofa once more, wishing that the house guest was not there so she could stand on it and reach a higher shelf. “It's behind the sofa!” she whispered in a silly voice before dropping her tones once more. “Where can that fish be?” Her eyes moved off to the end of the couch as she spotted more dusting that needed to be done on an end table. “Have you thought of the drawers in the bureau?!” the silly voice asked before her own replied “Shh!”

She continued to clean, wiping the end table clean and wandering off to inspect the strange jug to see if what was inside would help with the cleaning process. “It is a most elusive fish!” the low voice exclaimed quietly as she lifted the heavy bucket with her good hand, giving a small grunt as she placed it on the floor momentarily and studied the markings. What is the meaning of the face with two mustaches? Aerin thought before continuing her one-woman skit with the falsetto voice “And it went wherever I did go.” She gave the jug a small shrug and smiled, carrying it back into the room with the couch. “Ooooh, fishy, fishy, fishy fish!” she lowly spoke once more, concentrating more on her work than originality or not repeating lines.

“A-fish, a-fish, a-fish, a-fishy, ooooh.” the falsetto voice retorted as she tried to uncap the bottle without jostling her still-healing hand too much in the process, the last word more of a true reaction than a funny ad-lib in the nonsensical skit as she found it to be tighter than she hoped. “Ooooh, fishy, fishy, fishy fish!” she continued, her voice lower as she sat down on the floor, crossed her legs, and gripped the bottle with them, attempting once more to open the cap.

“That went wherever I did go.” she finished in a final dash of falsetto, grunting between words as she continued to open the odd jug and abandoned the skit in favor of concentration and effort.

OOC: Thanks go to the Monty Python troupe this time, as well as a grin to the mod. It's meant as a tribute, not as plagiarism, honest - had to assume the end table to make it fit the dialogue.

[Grey Wolf]

The guest did not stir after taking part in Aerin's previous performance, falling into deep, dreamless slumber, though a smile still kept his lips curled upward. Throughout the girl's little game he kept smiling, needing only a blanky under his arm and to suck his thumb to be quite like a five year old boy taking an afternoon nap. He ceased snoring, having rolled onto his side where the air flowed more easily, though that made him take over more of the couch than before, making it very hard for Aerin to climb on top of it should she ever attempt so.

The bottle was not that heavy, weighing perhaps six or so pounds, but it was still too much to be carried in one hand, and Aerin found the cap to be screwed tightly, or rather as it proved later to be glued closed by a thin layer of dried soap between the cap and neck. It contained what looked to be soapy water within, though it had been days since the soap had been dissolved in the liquid, the water almost clear as the soap residue had settled at the mug's bottom. The cap itself had a long thin pipe at its base, long enough to reach nearly to the bottom of the mug once inserted through the top.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin butted her head against the problem of the jar figuratively and, in one instance, literally, as she tried to pry the lid open with only one hand, giving up after a short time and leaving it put in order to take a small break and clear her thoughts. She kicked back in a chair near the ashtray and lit up a cigarette, knowing that she might have to stub it out prematurely, should the sleeping guest or Ashari command it. Her eyes moved back and forth between the bottle and the sleeping man, Aerin’s curiosity piqued more by the latter than the former as she drew in a puff and watched him sleep.

She wondered what relationship the old man had to Ashari – he certainly did not look…or smell…like a mage, nor did he look like a man of influence. Could be a relative… Her father maybe? No.. Grandfather? she puzzled before shaking her head and drawing in another lungful of smoke …no…I would have slept on the couch, had it been a relative…a… her eyes widened in mirthful shock. …a suitor? she wildly speculated, giving another laugh, a little louder this time. She thought of the youthful Ashari kissing the old man, an invisible wall of time separating their faces. Eww… She gave another chuckle and took another puff on her smoke as her mental image changed to that of Wrinks and herself, with Ashari standing beside them approvingly. A full shudder passed through the redhead’s body.

Ouch…more eww… she thought, her nose crinkling up in an effort to push the visual out of her mind. Still, she had no idea what companion training actually consisted of and part of it very well may be to see if she could be a companion to whomever Ashari picked…even if as just a test. Another shiver passed through her body at the thought, one small snippet of reason reminding her that she had felt an attraction to the almost equally aged Pralix. But he has power…this man has… she thought as she sniffed the air tentatively. …fish.

Still as she finished her cigarette and watched him, she couldn’t help but empathize with the stranger in some ways for, like him, she was figuratively sleeping on Ashari’s couch with the fishy smell of her past failures stinking up the place. He looked comfortable enough, but Aerin decided that he should have the option of being more so if he desired and so, after stubbing out her smoke, she knelt beside the old man on the couch and lightly stroked his cheek, trying to wake him as gently as possible, her lips as close to his ear as she could get without touching his flesh with her lips or breathing too heavily upon his skin.

“Sir? I have a bed upstairs if you would like me to take you to it. It might make you feel a bit better and more rested…” she offered softly, hoping that he would either take her up on it or awaken and help her with the jar lid because, due to her current frustration with it, Ashari seemed to be mere flickers away from having yet another hole in her wall and Aerin was pretty sure that the old man would not wish to awaken to that particular ruckus.

[Grey Wolf]

Where previously the difference in scent between the leaves Aerin had found under the Banner, and the regular tobacco she had used before was barely noticeable, once the cigarette was lit, there was no doubt it was a completely different herb. A much thicker and heavier smoke lifted from the tip of the rollie, filling the room with the heavy sweet fragrance, vaguely reminiscent of fresh tree sap. The smoke felt like it was clinging to her lung, rolling off her lips with each exhale, having a weight to it that enabled the girl to feel it physically upon her skin. It lacked the sharp bite of the tobacco, sliding over the throat more easily.

The man shifted as the smoke rolled closer to him, his smile becoming less pronounced, though he did not wake up due to it, still fast asleep when Aerin rose and felt the room become colder all of a sudden. It was not an uncomfortable feeling, nothing more severe than a sudden chill, as beads of cold sweat formed upon her forehead, spreading down the sides of her neck, soon emerging on every exposed inch of her skin. The man was already stirring when Aerin felt the heat forming in the pit of her stomach, sliding down through her abdomen, stopping once it reached her groin and started to throb softly. With each heartbeat it grew warmer, growing in size, the feeling of wetness between her legs not coming from cold sweat, but rather from within her, her body responding to what was a proper sexual arousal. That coupled with the chill she had felt earlier, made Aerin's nipples almost painfully hard, even the tiniest motion brushing them against fabric of her chemise, the sensation bordering on pain due to its intensity.

The man shifted as Aerin's whisper managed to stir him from sleep, blinking and trying to roll on his back, whilst smacking lips with a tiniest frown. As he turned Wrinkles' hand brushed against the girl's stomach and hip, but came nowhere close to her privates, even though it sent a definite shiver through her body. "Morning. Where am.... Oh, at Ashari's place." The old man wrinkled his nose, sniffing the air a few times and then looked at the girl over him. "A bit early for the mist, ain't it?" The smell of the fish was still there, stronger due to the closeness, but still greatly overshadowed by the scent of salt upon him. He was still the wrinkled old man Aerin observed for burns earlier, the only difference being the fact that she felt an almost overwhelming need for sex, her abdominal muscles tensing rhythmically with each breath she took.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin’s head swam as the drug seeped into her senses, one small voice of common sense gurgling as it drowned slowly in the appropriately-named White Myst. She had no real experience with the drug before, having only smelled it faintly when Rat and his men had taken the occasional smoke of it – the greedy little bastards never even offering me a drag as they shared their scant stash only amongst themselves – and her experience the previous night which had been all-too easily dismissed by Aerin as a surreal dream, the memories of it drained almost as quickly as the long bath that she had taken afterwards. This small relapse had come to hit her as wholly new sensations, the previous night’s lessons lost to the Myst without resistance. She shook her head a little in an attempt to clear it as the old man shifted awake, her bodice practically choking her as she leaned back a tad to give him room, the touch of his hand striking a chord with her as the drug turned her whole body into one complete erogenous zone.

“Ashari’s…yes…” the redhead smiled, her voice lowering just a touch in octaves she put her own hand where his had touched in a subconscious effort to keep the sensation close. “What mist?" She asked with a raised eyebrow as she glanced toward the window, expecting to see fog gathered outside. “No…no mist…just the smell of tobacco and…” she took a sniff of the air as if she could smell the fruits of her labors. “…and clean…” Aerin gave a sigh and leaned closer toward him, breathing in once more through her nose. “And salty fish…but…” a rogue memory of a blond-haired Panling smiling down at her during an orgy that she and Rat had attended flickered in her mind, the blonde’s pert curves jiggling in shuddering orgasm as Aerin’s tongue worked it magic, her own salty and slightly fishy* taste filling the young mage’s mouth and thoughts as her attentions returned to the present and she batted her eyelashes slowly at her elderly companion. “…that’s not so bad sometimes…”

“Of course…” she continued, unaware that her freshly-mended hand had begun slowly caressing her own thigh as the other moved upward toward her throat. “…if you want, I can offer you a nice…” her stomach fluttered at the image that was beginning to form in her mind even as adjectives spilled painfully slow from her dry lips, a slow and delicate lick punctuating the words as she attempted to re-wet them. “…hot… wet… long… glistening… steamy…’ her eyelids fluttered shut for a flicker, picturing herself rising and falling from a seated position in the bathtub as the old man ran his age-experienced hands over nipples as hard as arrowheads and cupped the surrounding flesh like two slippery cod trying to wiggle their way back to the freedom of the ocean.

“…blistering…sticky…hard…sensual…breathtaking…ohh…oh my...” Aerin’s eyes opened wide as she felt her body spasm and shake from a minor explosion within her, awareness and modest struggling for control of her words and deeds fruitlessly as she clutched at her stomach with one hand and her groin with the other, hoping to hide the evidence of her arousal as she torturously completed her original thought, her breath coming in ragged and semi-labored gasps. “…bath…” Her face flushed with both embarrassment and arousal as, in her imagination, he smiled and began to disrobe…

* Artistic license here as I, personally, have had the luck not to encounter this stereotypical odor/taste and have been told it is caused by bad hygiene. No offense to any women intended.

[Grey Wolf]

Wrinkles had seen the mist work, but never a reaction this strong, and for a few flickers he observed the girl before him, his body reacting despite its age, the old man smiling for a flicker, quite pleased with himself. Then the reality imposed itself on his mind, and he remembered where they were and why he had slept on a comfortable couch instead under the pier. His piercing green eyes focused on the girls face, as his hands went to her hips and firmly seated Aerin on the couch next to him, before touching her forehead with the back of his hand.

"You've taken too much." He glanced around and spotted the rag she had used to clean the room and followed the trail of water to the bucket. He rose and with a slight grunt bent over the bucket, dipping the cloth into it and then wrung the water out. A flicker later the cool cloth pressed against her throat, a trickle of water flowing between the girl's breasts and disappearing down her bodice. It was not really helping, making the matters worse as the cold water made her skin even more sensitive than it was. The cloth moved to the side of her neck, across the cheeks and to the forehead, the old man bent over her, trying to keep push the white mist out of the girl's body and failing utterly.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

As altruistic as Wrinkles’ actions were in the realm of sobriety, Aerin still straddled the threshold between fantasy and reality with wet trembling thighs, for while he gave her treatment with a wet washcloth in Ashari’s freshly-cleaned room, he also gave her the same treatment in the bathtub within her mind, his calm, powerful hands wiping the sweat of their exertions from her brow and throat, the water doing less to cool her down as it did to reignite the fires within.

Her visions of him in the bathtub with her went as unnoticed by him – unless he could read her mind somehow – as his words of drug overdose went unnoticed by her, her personal fantasy turning the caring words into sweet-but-quickly-forgotten pillow talk, arousing her furthur.

In her dream, mirroring reality, he stood in the tub – the evidence of his desire for her staring at her with a sightless eye, begging for further attention. With a mischievous smile on her face in both worlds, Aerin obliged him, her body more melting than sliding off of the couch and coming to rest on her knees before him, her face nuzzling into his groin if he allowed it, her lips placing teasing kisses on his upper thighs at the lines where leg flowed into torso, wanting to work him up to the moment when he could take no more and would guide himself into a very wet, willing and waiting mouth.

[Grey Wolf]

Despite his looks and visible age, Wrinkles was still a man with needs, and the hardy lifestyle the fisherman led left him still quite virile and able. His reluctance stemmed from several factors, the biggest of which was not that taking advantage of Aerin would be abusing Ashari's hospitality, but rather the somewhat specific sexual practices that he preferred over pure vanilla intercourse. He missed Petal and the trust he had in her, the little whore understanding of his peculiar needs and willingness to cater to them, no matter how silly or weird they were. By Gods, he needed to feel the velvet against his skin and have the strong taste of herbal tea upon his tongue, yet neither was likely to be provided here, and Petal was safe in Muchislie.

He began to panic, glancing quickly towards the doors leading into the living room, ears perking up to pick out any sound to indicate they were not alone in the house. "Oh, crap." He struggled to keep the girl from his groin, but it was a feeble attempt, his own body betraying him, hands slipping against her skin and only serving to make the matters worse, by turning nuzzles into stronger bumps, and creating a rather visible bump in his cloth breeches. As Aerin discovered, the scent become a bit stronger this close to Wrinkles, though hardly repulsive, the scent of salt much stronger than the faint aroma of fresh fish.

"Please, lady, snap out of it." He kept talking and trying to resist verbally, giving up on physical resistance as his body no longer listened. "Don't want you to be sorry for this later." He kept resisting the urge to touch her body, to feel her youthful flesh under his hands, limiting himself to gentle caresses of Aerin's forearm. "I'm flattered and everything, but it's the mist that makes you do it. Don't want you to be mad. Miss Ashari is a friend." He was stretched to his limits, and ready to simply let go and enjoy the moment, giving the girl before him once last chance to back away and resist the shroud of lust the drug wrapped around her mind and body.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin felt bigger thrills, at least from her point of view, than Wrinkles did at his arm massages and the gentle tussling motion of him trying to free himself from an almost non-existent grip that she, herself, could hardly pull away from. His words, however, stirred her – even if it was not in the way that he would have hoped. Aerin stood slowly, very slowly, her body lightly brushing against his unless he stepped back away from her, and smiled. “The name is Aerin…” she cooed, stepping back a half step and looking around as well, not breaking free from his touch if he kept his hands upon her. “And I love the sailor talk… Mist… Is that sea code for…” she moved her face closer to his if allowed, and gave a small raise of her left eyebrow as she reached down to give him a feather-light stroke, if permitted.

“…this?” The left eyebrow lowered and the right rose as she bit her own lower lip tenderly between her teeth and attempted a second – stronger – touch. “And how could I be mad?” she continued breathily, her voice low and sweet – almost innocent. “Mistress Ashari is a friend to us both, yes, as well as my teacher… And while she will, indeed, teach me a great many things, she is younger than I and may not know all of the tricks…” she intoned, her other hand rising to stroke his cheek and hair. “…that a rugged...experienced... traveler like yourself might know… At least in the matters of the flesh, that is.” As the one hand kept lightly teasing away at his crotch, the other lowered to his chest, attempting to brush across a nipple through the fabric.

“And you do know quite a bit, don’t you?” Aerin asked with a wink, taking in a deep inhale of his somewhat unusual scent. “Probably sailed all over Tazlure, mmm? A girl in every port, learning to pleasure yourself and another in ways that would make Panlings blush, am I right?” Aerin had no way of knowing his interests or history, but she felt at ease adapting Rat’s interrogation and intimidation techniques for use in loveplay. Granted, without the mist, she would have probably been too shy to attempt what may be construed as foreplay for a rape, but with the drug, her darker side began to emerge more and more by the flicker, making the redhead bolder and bolder with each word.

“Regret? Anger? My only regret would be that I, an apt and curious student, could not convince a teacher to teach me….” Her hand went from his chest to hers, her fingers tugging playfully on the strings at the front of her corset, stroking one string absentmindedly between her fingers as if it were a part of him that she was trying to coax into rigidity (although her other hand knew that such a requirement was well on its way to being met) and she did, indeed, reach part of her goal as the string in her hand became longer and longer with each gently insistent tug, the loops of the bow between her breasts disappearing with a pop as it came undone. "...how to please a man who has probably seen and done it all..."

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders, as if unsure of something, her corset slipping down a bit – she never liked to wear them tight – and allowing her pert nipples to push at the flimsy fabric which still shielded them from Wrinkle’s full view, her hand dipping into a glistening cleavage for a flicker to trace and expose more of the swelling flesh to the cooler air, her internal temperature seeming to rise as she exposed just a tiny bit more flesh to the man before her. “I think the biggest regret would be for you to walk away…” she said, a hint of pleading in her voice. “I can almost picture you now…” The hand massaging him, if permitted, would increase in tempo just a beat. “Lying there in your bed on the ship… Trapped in your own hand… And in your own mind…” Aerin would move closer after those words, her face as close to his as he allowed. “…pretending to remember what it felt like…what I felt like… Your fantasies making me do all those little secrets…” she continued, licking her lips slowly. “…that you did not want to teach me in real life…”

“And your friendship with Ashari…”, she continued, using every last ‘dirty trick’ that her mind could conceive. “Would it be more strained by you taking me now – as I am sure that she did not tell either of us to not touch the other – or later, upon your next visit… as I bent over near you to fetch something like a cup or book… and you lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as you felt regret grow…” Aerin reached back out for his chin, hoping to draw him in closer for a kiss. “…that you could have had me as a willing puppet, had you only pulled my strings…”

Aerin would pause for a moment, letting her words sink in, before taking a step backward and placing both hands upon her body, one dipping into her top to massage an aching breast while the other cupped against her most sensitive regions through her skirt.

“Regret is a very, very slow poison, sir… One that I have tasted before and know that I shall taste now…regret if you take me through your guilt…regret if you leave me be because of it…” Aerin locked gazes with Wrinkles and gave a warm smile. “You, I think, will taste regret either way as well… The only question that remains is ‘which cup will you choose to drink it from?’ Yes?” The redhead tossed her hair playfully and lifted both hands toward him as she took another step backwards toward the couch, twin index fingers straightening and curling as she taunted him silently. Daring him to take her. Something darker filled her eyes as she became bolder still, her tongue tracing along both lip and bared canine teeth like a she-wolf preparing for a meal. The lust was becoming almost painful and the concept of a woman raping a man was becoming more and more entertaining to her clouded mind.

[Grey Wolf]

No matter how hard he tried to resist, Wrinkles was losing the battle against the arousal and lust he felt at the sight of the girl before him, even though he was dressed inappropriately for foreplay as he preferred it, but the tension and nervousness he felt were working much like an aphrodisiac upon his body. The knowledge that he really should not be doing this, that Aerin and more importantly Ashari could end up more than a little upset at his actions, did nothing to make him back off. If anything it only served to spur him forward and Aerin hand found that there was nothing misty or remotely incorporeal by the old man’s member his reply cut off by a moan, words coming out in ragged gasps. “N-n-no. Mist is….. is the stuff…..you sm-smoked. Makes you…..oooooh…..horny.”

It was hard to focus on anything with the damned girl touching all the right spots, and soon she found his own hands traveling across her skin, caressing her behind, tenderly, almost as if he was afraid she would break under his touch. His hands were callused and warm against her still wet and clammy skin, and even the scent of sea was not so bad now that she got used to it. “You….ain’t…..half as bad yerself, luv. Too….good fer an old geeeeeeeeezer like me.” The man was showing a remarkable amount of self-control, letting the girl toy with him, rocking his hips gently against her hand as he licked his lips hungrily, the shroud of the narcotic still covering Aerin’s mind, keeping her brain safely within the fluffy cloud that made her do all those nasty and wicked things to the old man’s body.

And then he was free, if only for a flicker, her words ringing true, so true in his ears, regret pushed back for a while, for only a couple of burns, the old man literally pouncing upon the teasing girl, tackling her and tumbling into the couch. He did not seek her lips in a kiss, leaning past her face to bite at her pulse point, as his body pinned her down, a hand reached down between her thighs to caress the soft flesh of her thighs, his hand never reaching for her womanhood, letting the girl feel the longing he felt. His rough hand stroked her thighs, massaging them, his thumb stroking the spot where her groin and leg met, as his knee made its way between her legs, keeping them safely apart. “I ain’t no sailor, luv. A fisherman yes. Smuggler too. Never went far. Never was without a pussy long. Just did not have a decent cup of tea in a while. Not since Petal left.” At last his fingers stroked her groin, the texture of his fingertips caressing her soft flesh, slowly sinking deeper towards the source of wetness between her legs, as his lips and more importantly his teeth moved lower, covering her breasts in swift, sudden bites, never quite hurting her, but sending light jolts through her flesh.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

As goading as she had been and as much as she wanted his assault, Aerin was not fully ready for it when it happened, the redhead letting out a quiet squeal of delight as she was jumped and pinned to the couch like a mouse who had taunted the cat just a little too much. Aerin could swear that she actually heard popping in her ear as his mouth worked on her throat, her eyes fluttering almost closed as she let out a quiet ‘oooh!’ of appreciation and allowed one hand to come to rest on the back of his head as if ready to attempt to keep his mouth there by force, her fingers curling in his hair as her pelvis lifted in an attempt to grind against his thigh, her skin alive where his hand roamed, her other hand snaking once more between them to capture both flesh and cloth in a feathery but insistent grip.

“A smuggler, you say?” she chuckled as his lips went to the released swells of her breasts, her breathing shallow and deep all at once. “And what are we smuggling here, mmm? By the Nether, it feels like gnome’s arm making a fist!” she sighed, giving the flesh a gentle squeeze. The hand in his hair stayed insistently in place but, being her recently healed hand, did not put the pressure upon his skull that her lust wanted her to put there, instead riding along as if guiding him to fields ripe with the fruits of ecstasy. “Hopefully I can be as sweet and fulfilling to you as a cup of tea – or as this Petal…” Aerin breathed as his hand continued its exploration of her own refreshing petals. Her hips began rocking rhythmically against his touch, the young redhead giving thought to what he had said about mist although the thought was repeatedly quick to lose the battle against both drug and sensation.

“it…” she gasped as she felt her spine begin to curve a bit in anticipation of what was coming. “…it is not all mist…” she confessed, gripping his hair a shade tighter. “I--- I’ve never been with a man…” she breathed before falling silent for a flicker, her mouth open in a soft ‘o’ of shock as his mouth and hand made her tremble like a leaf in a typhoon, the rest of her comment coming only as thought although she felt as though she had said it aloud. …like you before. So rough, so eager… Poor Wrinkles had quickly begun the process that all lovers underwent, where they were compared against lovers past. Rat had, despite his rough exterior, been almost femininely soft and gentle with her and nowhere near as insistent as Wrinkless. The Panling and his lady love, well, Aerin could not recall what he had been like, the memories of his touch painted over by the memories of hers which, like Rat’s, had been as if the female Panling had been making love to a soft and pliant – but still fragile – glass doll. And then there was Aerin’s comparison of Wrinkles vs. the nameless sailor, Wrinkles winning by a long shot as the experience with the sailor had been in a seasick-dampened mood. Wrinkles may have been a career fisherman, but it was Aerin who felt that she had just made the catch of the day as she continued to tug insistently upon the cloth-covered flesh that she so badly wanted to sheathe within herself.

“Puh-puh-puppet…” Aerin stammered, catching her breath in only small mouthfuls. “Yes…yes…make me dance…” she finished/ her hand leaving his groin and tugging upon his belt without the conscious ability to work even the simplest of buckles in the fruitless act of exposing him to her full touch. “Show me how you like it…” she gasped anew, a smile on her face although her voice seemed to be edging closer to tears. “I will do anything you want…anything…teach me…” Aerin felt her breath hitch again and re-gripped him in her palm, abandoning her half-hearted attempt to open his belt and tugging him closer as if she meant for him to invade her body with his within flickers whether he removed his trousers or not.

[Ashari]

Ashari rolled over in her bed and mumbled incoherantly at the open window from which light poured in like wine from a jug. She blamed the sun's insistant rays for interrupting her from sleep and tugged at blankets hoping to drown herself in their warmth and calm. However, it wasn't the noiseless illumination that caused the brunette to stir. It was Aerin's insistant and eager yelp. Ash had never been much of a heavy sleeper. It could be blamed on her time running solo. Waking up at the slightest noise was often the difference between living or not.

But, the girl had grown indifferent to such warning signs and stuffed her head beneath a pillow with a grunt.

Several burns later, as her pupil was tugging with zeal at Wrink's belt, Ash sighed and opened her eyes to take in the deep, complete darkness of the world under her pillow. Her long eyelashes whisked along the surface of the fine fabric. Just get up, lazy bum, she inwardly encouraged herself. Ash was tired though. Her stomach rumbled. "Fine... rrgggg," her quiet musings melted into indescernible noises as she pushed the pillow off her face, winced at the bright light and had a go at a big stretch.

[Grey Wolf]

Wrinkles did not expect such a reaction, though he quickly dismissed it as a side-effect of the mist, the old man still enjoyed the fact this would not be a simple greedy romp, but perhaps a mutually pleasant bout of sex. He did pause, chuckling as she mentioned a gnome’s fist, breaking out into a short bout of laughter with his head buried between the girl’s tits. It took him a few flicker to recover, and then his hand moved to where the girl was busy untying the string that served as Wrinks’ belt, overwhelmed with greedy lust, pushing the pants down just enough to bare his behind and crotch. The voice preaching caution had drowned in the rush of blood from everywhere else in his body to the old man’s crotch, and a flicker later Aerin found a certain part of old fisherman’s anatomy pressed against her skin, and another flicker later it was in her, Wrinks’ hips pushing forward slowly, as if testing the path before letting go and pushing in deep.

For a flicker his entire body was tense, the old man feeling each of his heartbeat acutely as his flesh throbbed within Aerin, and then seemingly sated by that almost savage assault, his body began moving, in a sedate rhythm. He may have been old, but he was still in a very good shape, the fisherman not truly bothered by a somewhat uncomfortable position they both were in. He remained silent, lost in the sensations [bAerin’s[/b] body sent through him, slowly picking up the pace.

Ashari woke alone in the bed, the bed next to her already cold indicating Ketch had departed some time ago. Ketch’s discarded clothes lay upon the chair, and not on the floor where he discarded them previous morning, but of the young thief there was no trace. As the pillow was removed, more noises came from bellow, a constant and incessant creaking of the couch under the mismatched lovers down bellow reverberating at the very edge of hearing.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin, as well, was lost in sensation, the drug in her system making every last nerve ending sing in three-part harmony and she lay still and welcoming as he entered her, her bared breasts glistening with both sweat and saliva as they rose and fell in anticipation, a smiling face framed by silken flames which washed over the fabric of the couch. When he had fully pressed inward, Aerin clutched at him playfully, tightening her inner muscles as if holding her bladder at bay. Once. Twice. And then a third time.

Her lips parted slightly in a silent gasp as he slowly receded and then returned, her muscles once again clenching – this time by reflex – fighting fruitlessly against him as he tried to withdraw again. And again. And again. And again. Aerin felt her feet slide along his calves as he pressed repeatedly into her, one hand against his chest while the other slipped between them to force the most sensitive of nerve clusters out of hiding, her index and middle fingers parting flesh to ensure that the somewhat elusive peak got slammed repeatedly with his every thrust.

The Mist – as well as her own natural libido – demanded it.

“Yesss…” Aerin sighed as she began to surrender more and more to the sensations and felt his thrusts increase in tempo and pressure. Her jade eyes stayed locked on his silent face, wanting desperately to force a noise out of him. “You want to…uhhh…?” Aerin grunted, feeling herself tighten fiercely for a flicker, wanting to ask him to couple as if he loved her – nay even hated her – to attack her as if she owed him money, but found herself speechless under his touch, her silently pleading eyes her only means of communication for a few burns.

Rat, Panlings, and sailors be damned – Aerin couldn’t figure out if it was drug or experience which made the old fisherman so amazing, but she was definitely feeling no regrets in offering to ‘clean his pipes’ as part of her housekeeping duties this Morningtide.

[Ashari]

Ashari's fingers snaked along the surface of the bedcovers only to find no tell-tale lump where Ketch's body ought to have been. Mother above you are quiet. She thought to herself as elbows pushed her upward. Either that or I just sleep soundly... No matter how well tired out from the previous evening's exersions she was, she didn't stand a chance of sleeping through the rhythmic creakings from downstairs.

Gray eyes shifted to the left and stared hard at the closed door, though it was her ears which were doing the focussing. What in the nether is that? She remained frozen in her spot much like a nervous child who suspects monsters in the closet. Sitting upright as she was, now, her perspective of from where the noise was coming was rather different. Before it had sounded all around her, but now it was more obviously coming from downstairs. Fuck it all, what if it's Michael?

Fuzzy with sleep the brunette blinked and rubbed her eyes and delicately placed her feet on the floor. Slow steps brought her to a nightrobe which she slipped over her body as a minor level of decorum before ever-so-slowly sliding through the door. Her feet remained bare while she tip-toed through the upstairs hallway.

Outside of her room the dull noise became more prominent and the general beat of it was starting to become understood, though Ash didn't make any connections as she placed her foot on the first step. A deep breath followed as she dove into her protective core and started the work of erecting a shield. Nimble fingers wrapped around the railing for support as she kept her feet in single-file line as close to the banister pegs as possible. It was a purposeful movement, meant to eliminate the squeaking and creaking of the steps.

In hindsight she found she could've done without such precautions thanks to their precarious position. If only she'd known that when she was carefully making her way down the main sweep.

It took practically no time before she was creeping through the foyer, and then toward the sitting room, with the same methodical steps. Her ears perked, still trying to pin-point the direction of the sounds as she made her way through her house's entrance point.

Ashari's lonely heart raced like it was running for it's life. Her teeth gritted together. Come on, Michael.. make my day you stupid little piece of shit. You think you're going to come into MY house again..? Is that what you think? I'll show you. I'll rend you limb from limb. I'll show you what it is to beg for the mercy that so many others begged from you... In her mind she rehearsed the numerous rude things she might say to him when she discovered him setting some sort of deadly trap for her.

Thus, as she stepped into the sitting room and discovered a very different scene she couldn't help the alarmed gasp that sounded as she sucked in air, nor the surprised outburst of air that directly followed. Widened eyes that took in far too much detail of the couple averted as soon as she was able to turn away from the almost gruesome scene. Old people don't.. ehh.. gods... "I'm.. so.. I - didn't -" Stutterings of real words were dispersed with stammerings of awkward non-words as she turned away and went directly back into the foyer.

[Grey Wolf]

If one thing came with age it was wisdom and Wrinkles was wise enough to realize that a chance like this would not present itself again, and even more aware that should it present itself, he might not be able to take advantage of it as his body was no longer as young and willing as it has been in the past. He threw himself fully into the act, knowing it could be his last, and thus he was a it rough, overly eager, much like he had been the first time, yes tempered with yahren of experience and a body that was slow to react, making him truly push himself to the limit. It lasted and soon beads of sweat covered the old man’s forehead, his muscles aching from the strain.

Then Ashari strode in and had she remained quiet, Aerin and Wrinkles may have taken their coupling to the end, but as it were the old man heard a sharp intake of breath, glancing over his shoulder and froze. It was the lady of the house and she did not look pleased. The fisherman’s face went pale, his breath cut short and a flicker later his head fell, down upon Aerin’s bosom, Wrinkles fighting for breath, unable to breathe. His hand feebly clutched at the edge of the couch he held so firmly mere flickers ago, eyes looking up at the girl with whose body he was still linked pleadingly.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin’s excitement was mounting as Wrinkles hammered away, the thrills racing through her via both natural nerve response and the drug’s heightened awareness making her gasps of pleasure, even though light to those both in and around her, drown out Ashari’s entrance in her ears, their pitch and intensity rising as the pauses between them became shorter and shorter. She was nearing a summit that refused to be ignored even when Wrinkles’ head came plunging down onto her body’s natural pillows.

“Yes…Yes…Yes…Yes….Yes..Yes…Yes…OH YES!!!” She went silent for a flicker or two as she, like Wrinkles, stopped breathing and began sweating profusely. Her eyes, just before the final burst, had clamped as tight as her inner walls around him and opened a crack as she smiled down upon his gaze.

He wants me to do something, I think… the redhead pondered as he simply lay there trapped inside her, unmoving. Was it a game? A hint that he was done? That he wanted more? She didn’t know and grew a tiny bit anxious as he continued to lay there for a flicker longer. A satisfied smile crossed her lips as she pushed her hips against him, trying to figure out what the pleading look was for.

The warm heat of the drug was replaced by a blue sheet of ice upon her nerves as she felt a bad vibe about the whole situation. Something wasn’t right.

The look in his eyes – she remembered it from the dead cat who had put the gashes on her hand.

By Dominicus’ dangling dick…what have I…?

Ashari, Aerin was sure, was going to kill her for this. All Aerin had wanted to do was please him and now her pleasure-giving little body had killed him…or nearly killed, she imagined. Still, Ashari was a healer and could help. Maybe. In any case, Aerin felt claustrophobia climb onto the couch for a bit of ménage e trios as it covered her eyes and throat with icy hands and proceeded to stab its invading flesh in past her rapidly-clenching anus.

She was trapped beneath a possibly dead man.

It had only been less than a burn since Ashari had left, but the younger woman would possibly hear Aerin’s scream even had she been back at the Palace in Andolin’s bed instead of her own, from the force and urgency that the drugged farmgirl put behind it.

“Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssstressssssssssss! Heeeeeeeeeellllllllpppppp!”

[Ashari]

It was the shock that prevented Ash from moving any further out of the into the foyer. Shock mixed with a heavy dose of disgust and perhaps a touch of awe over the fact that Wrink's parts all still worked. Parts?... The visual was more than she could stand. Stop thinking about Hammond's hammering PARTS! She demanded of herself as her thumb and index finger clamped over the narrow bridge of her nose in as a sort of pressure release valve meant to erase the images from her mind. Meanwhile she did her best at shaking them out with a few violent head wobbles. It wasn't working and her facial expression proved it. Thankfully no one else was around to see it.

Mouth agape in continuing disbelief Ashari was prepared to stand very still and then slowly meander back up to her bedroom where she envisioned nightmares of the scene. Some people aren't supposed to have sex as far as she was concerned. Parents were among the priviledged in the category, as was Wrinks. That was, until now.

Just as she was beginning to return to her senses something else happened. Aerin's shriek cut through the quiet morning air like a hot knife through butter. Try not to think of foodstuffs... She told herself while she shifted from the silly-shock to the moment.

Ashari had fought demons. What was a little sexy-time with her student and a dirty old fisherman? Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she just didn't understand why or how it happened. Questions aside, she knew desperation when she heard it and thus raced into the room with the ease and grace of a person who'd often been under pressure.

Think of the Changer. This is NOTHING compared to that... Even still, this wasn't a situation that she could just smite and move on from. "What in the nether, Aerin? Can I bring friends into the house or do I need to warn them of my horny student before hand?" There was a bite to her teasing tone, but it was meant to draw the girl's attention away from the significantly pale seaman. If he didn't respond, and continued to look as desperate as he did, Ash was prepared to spring into action. Strong thieve's hands secured onto his shoulders. "Get yourself out from under there and help me," she demanded finding it difficult to get a good grip on his sweaty skin.

[Grey Wolf]

Panic had the nasty side effect of causing muscles to clench and in this particular case, Aerin bore the full brunt of it, her vaginal muscles clenching and doing a fine job of keeping Wrinkles from slipping down from her body. Unless she managed to calm down, there was no force in whole of Tazlure that could separate them at that point, without some serious pain suffered by at least one of the them. True tests of mind’s power over body came unexpectedly and sometimes took unexpected forms. Each motion to separate Aerin and Wrinkles would definitely hurt the old fisherman, whose hammering part was definitely not designed to be thus tugged, but would also hurt the young girl under him, the grip of her muscles pulling on the inner part of her privates.

As Ashari entered, Wrinkles simply lay there, unresponsive, only his eyes moving, a trickle of saliva trickling from the corner of his lips. His heart beat erratically, skipping a heartbeat every so often, and each time that happened, he would gasp and a spasm would pass through his body, a wheezing breath drawn into his lungs. He was still conscious, his eyes alive, flicking from one girl to the other, expression shifting from utter shock and disbelief, over apologetic to morbidly amused at one moment. Unless Aerin moved along, rolling Wrinkles over would either pull his dangly bit off, or in the less likely case tear the girl’s inner muscles to pieces.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin’s reactions to Ashari’s ‘joke’ was to laugh a little at first, a forced laugh as weak as the redhead herself as far as her solo efforts to extract herself from Wrinkles’ trapping embrace. Her second reaction, however, was most unhelpful – What if she isn’t joking? Oh Nether, first I come on to her, then I jump her friend… she must think me Tazlure’s biggest slut… I am out of the guild for sure, I think… Her body tensed both in strain from trying to heave the old man off of her so that he could get help as well as a mixture of apprehension and embarrassment as she endured mark-long flickers within the compromising position.

“I’m sorry, mistress…” she began to explain as she helped push Wrinkles in the direction Ashari was pushing. “I don’t know what happened… One flicker, I was cleaning… the next I was under a spell or som---“ Her eyes and mouth both opened wide at the same time in a scream so intense that it clenched her throat against the sound for a flicker or two. This isn’t happening, please tell me this isn’t happening…

Instinctively, she scooted closer to Wrinkles, her hips pressing against his as she attempted to work him loose with no success and quite a bit of pain.

“Ow…ow…ow..owwowowowowowowow!” she panted, pushing her good hand down between them and wriggling her fingers along her lips until she reached the point where they were joined and found her worst fears to be real. She could feel the tightness of her body against him, impossibly virginal, the tension of her flesh noticeable both by her fingers and her groin as her body absolutely refused to let him go. Had whatever struck him caused him to increase in size? Tentatively, she tried to use her fingers, wrapped gently around him, to extract his flesh from her body only to be met with another nauseating shockwave of pain from her drug-enhanced nerve.

“Ow! Oh Nether this hurts… Mistress…” Aerin looked to her younger, and more experienced teacher with a look of curious horror behind eyes thickly glazed with tears that had already begun overflowing onto her cheeks. “I… can’t get him out… Why can’t I get…AHHH!” Their combined efforts caused the half-nude redhead to be pulled along with him onto the floor, the old fisherman’s ‘worm’ still stubbornly swallowed by her ‘pink snapper’. She started to sob uncontrollably as she continued to tug like an animal with its leg caught in a poacher’s trap, her efforts met with pain and visions of blood each time. Once more she looked to her learned instructor for guidance and help, trying her best to fight the tears as Ashari had already told her once that crying was something that Aerin would have to unlearn.

“Please, Mistress…” she begged innocently. “Help me… help him…help us…” Her heart was racing in inverse proportion to his as his slowed. “Oh Nether, Mistress… I never meant for this to happen – I promise you.” She gave one final attempt to dismount before her sense of self-preservation refused to let her try again. "I just want to get off...please..." she begged, looking at her lover, not realizing that - had they not been interrupted - she would have been moaning the same request to him anyway, but in an entirely different context.