Sultry Secrets

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<<set $corruption to 1>> <<set $david_relation=0>> <<set $int=10>> <<set $blowjob=2>> <<set $rep=0>> <<set $jack=0>> <<set $havesex=false>> /*Day 5*/ <<set $day5=0>> <<set $day5_bath=false>> /*Party*/ <<set $gameStarted = false>> <<set $players = [ {name: "Jamal", gender: "male", clothes: ["Socks", "Shirt", "Pants", "Underwear"]}, {name: "Emily", gender: "female", clothes: ["Top", "Pants", "Bra", "Underwear"]}, {name: "Sarah", gender: "female", clothes: ["Top", "Pants", "Bra", "Underwear"]}, {name: "Max", gender: "male", clothes: ["Socks", "Shirt", "Pants", "Underwear"]} ]>> <<set $round = 1>> <<set $gameOver = false>> <<set $washroom_first_time to false>> <<set $drunk=0>> <<set $glory_event to false>> /*Day 6*/ <<set $day6_kitchen= false>> <<set $day6_bathroom= false>> <<set $day6_drink=false>> <<set $day6_forest=false>> <<set $day6_job=false>> <<set $day6_class=false>> <<set $day6_p=false>> /*Day 7*/ <<set $day7_kitchen=false>> <<set $day7_living=false>> <<set $day7_shower=false>> <<set $day7_gwen=false>> <<set $day7_shop=false>> <<set $day7_virgin=false>> /*Day 8*/ <<set $day8_shop=false>> <<set $day8_shower=false>> /*Day 9 */ <<set $day9_principal=false>> <<set $day9_toilet=false>> /*Day 10*/ <<set $day10_class=false>> /*Day 11*/ <<set $day11_drop=false>> <<set $cute_photo=false>> <<set $bsd11=false>> <<set $pd11=false>> <<set $cfd11=false>> /*Day 14*/ <<set $scored=false>> <<set $bsd14=false>> <<set $pd14=false>> /*M00*/ <<set $blacksmith=false>> <<set $lake=false>> <<set $guards=false>> <<set $serve=0>> /*M01*/ <<set $m01_revenge=false>> <<set $m01_princess_black=false>> <<set $m01_thief=false>> <<set $m01_shift=0>> <<set $princess_pro=false>> <<set $magistrate_m01=false>> <<set $kelly_arrested=false>>

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Medeival Times

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The park court was quiet in the evening, painted in soft orange light as the sun slowly dipped behind the trees. Emily bounced the ball nervously, glancing at Liam. <e>“Okay… don’t laugh if I mess up,”</e> she warned. Liam smiled, stepping closer. <liam>“No laughing,”</liam> he promised. <liam>“I’m here to teach, remember?”</liam> He showed her how to position her hands, standing just behind her—not touching, but close enough that she could feel his presence. <liam>“Keep your elbows steady,”</liam> he said calmly. <liam>“And follow through.”</liam> Emily tried again. The shot went wide. <e>“Ugh… I’m terrible,”</e> she groaned. <liam>“You’re not,”</liam> he replied quickly. <liam>“You’re just learning.”</liam> They moved around the court, passing the ball back and forth. Emily ran for a loose rebound, lost her balance— —and suddenly stumbled forward. She fell straight into Liam’s arms. For a second, neither of them moved. Emily’s hands clutched his shirt instinctively, her face dangerously close to his. Liam’s arms were wrapped around her, holding her steady. Both of them froze. <e>“I—”</e> Emily started, then stopped, her cheeks turning pink. <liam>“You’re okay,”</liam> he said softly, equally flustered. They quickly stepped apart, both avoiding eye contact for a moment. <e>“That was… embarrassing,”</e> she muttered. Liam laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. <liam>“Kinda,”</liam> he admitted. <liam>“But also… impressive reflexes.”</liam> Emily smiled despite herself. They continued practicing, the air between them lighter now—shared glances, small laughs, shots slowly improving. As the sky darkened, they finally stopped, both a little tired but smiling. <liam>“You did really good today,”</liam> he said honestly. <e>“Thanks,”</e> Emily replied. <e>“I think I’m actually getting better.”</e> They left the court together, Emily have to go to Kelly's house. [[Next|Kelly House]]

Emily reached Kelly’s house early, her backpack slung over one shoulder, nerves buzzing quietly beneath her excitement. Not long after, they were walking together toward the forest, the path growing narrower with every step. Tall trees loomed overhead, blocking most of the sunlight, the air cooler and heavier here. <img src="Images/1.8/18.jpg"> Emily glanced around uneasily. <e>“Kelly… how do you even know where we’re going?”</e> she asked, lowering her voice. <e>“This forest is huge.”</e> Kelly slowed her steps for a moment, then smiled faintly. <kelly>“I don’t know know,”</kelly> she admitted. <kelly>“I’m just… following my instincts.”</kelly> <kelly>“If the diary is right, his house has to be somewhere around here.”</kelly> Emily frowned, hugging her arms slightly. <e>“Don’t you think there could be wild animals too?”</e> she asked, eyes scanning the bushes. <e>“Or something worse?”</e> Kelly stopped and turned to her, calm but determined. <kelly>“Maybe,”</kelly> she said honestly. <kelly>“But the risk will be worth it.”</kelly> They moved deeper into the forest, branches cracking under their feet, strange sounds echoing from all directions. The light dimmed, shadows stretching unnaturally long. Suddenly— Figures stepped out from behind the trees. One… then two… then many. Emily gasped as tribal people surrounded them, their faces unreadable, their presence sudden and overwhelming. <img src="Images/1.8/19.jpg"> <e>“Kelly…”</e> she whispered, frozen in place. Kelly’s breath caught as well, her eyes widening. They were completely surrounded. [[Next|ForestAmbush]]

The tribal people began speaking among themselves, their voices low and rapid, words unfamiliar and sharp to Emily’s ears. Emily looked around anxiously, trying to smile despite the fear tightening in her chest. <e>“H-Hello… we’re not here to cause any trouble,”</e> she said slowly, gesturing with her hands. <e>“We’re just looking for someone.”</e> The faces around them didn’t change. Kelly tried next, her voice firmer but careful. <kelly>“Please,”</kelly> she said, pointing back toward the path they came from. <kelly>“We’ll leave if you want us to.”</kelly> The tribal people continued talking among themselves, their language completely foreign. Some stared at them curiously, others with suspicion. Emily’s heart pounded. <e>“They don’t understand us…”</e> she whispered to Kelly. Kelly nodded subtly, swallowing hard. Before either of them could react— A sudden sharp blow landed against Emily’s head. Her vision spun instantly, the forest tilting violently as pain exploded behind her eyes. <e>“Kelly—”</e> she gasped, barely getting the word out. Another strike followed. Kelly stumbled, her knees buckling as the world went dark. Both of them collapsed to the ground, consciousness slipping away as the voices around them blurred into distant echoes. Everything faded into black. [[Next|UnknownCaptive]]

Emily’s head throbbed as consciousness slowly returned. The first thing she felt was the tightness around her wrists. <img src="Images/1.8/20.jpg"> Rope. She opened her eyes sharply. She and Kelly were tied, seated on the ground, their bags and belongings gone. Rough, unfamiliar cloth had been wrapped around them, clearly not theirs. Around them, torches flickered as tribal people stood in a wide circle. They were chanting. Low, rhythmic songs echoed through the forest, drums beating slowly, sending vibrations through the ground. Emily’s heart began to race. <e>“Kelly…”</e> she whispered, her voice trembling. <e>“This doesn’t look good.”</e> Kelly swallowed hard, eyes darting around. <kelly>“No… it doesn’t,”</kelly> she replied quietly. Some of the tribal people pointed toward a stone structure nearby. Smoke rose from behind it. Emily’s breath caught. <e>“Do you think…”</e> she hesitated, lowering her voice even more, <e>“…they want to sacrifice us?”</e> Kelly clenched her jaw. [[Sacrifice]]

<e>“Did my mom ever mention this?”</e> Emily asked urgently. <e>“Anything like this in the diary?”</e> Kelly shook her head, panic clear in her eyes. <kelly>“No,”</kelly> she whispered. <kelly>“There was nothing about this. Nothing at all.”</kelly> As she spoke, one of the tribal men suddenly froze. His head tilted slightly. He repeated a single word aloud, slowly, as if tasting it. “Daisy?” The chanting stopped. Every pair of eyes turned toward Emily. Her heart pounded violently. <e>“Y-Yes,”</e> she said, voice shaking but clear. <e>“Daisy is my mother.”</e> The air shifted. A strange wind rushed through the clearing, lifting dust and ash from the ground. The tribal people began to blur, their forms dissolving like sand caught in a storm. Within seconds— They were gone. From the swirling dust, a single figure remained. An old man stepped forward, leaning on a staff, his eyes sharp and knowing. <img src="Images/1.9/1.jpg"> The dust settled. Silence fell. The old man looked directly at Emily. And smiled. [[Next|TheOldManAppears]]

The old man stepped closer, his staff pressing softly into the earth as his sharp eyes studied Emily’s face. <img src="Images/1.9/2.jpg"> <alchemist>“Daisy…?”</alchemist> he murmured again. Then his eyes widened slightly. <alchemist>“Are you the daughter of Daisy?”</alchemist> Emily swallowed, her heart still racing. <e>“Yes,”</e> she replied. <e>“She’s my mother.”</e> The old man straightened slowly, amazement clear on his face. <alchemist>“Incredible…”</alchemist> he said, almost to himself. <alchemist>“You look just like her.”</alchemist> Emily leaned forward as much as the ropes allowed. <e>“You know her?”</e> she asked urgently. <e>“Do you know what happened to my mother?”</e> The old man nodded. <alchemist>“Yes,”</alchemist> he said calmly. <alchemist>“Many years ago, Daisy came to me.”</alchemist> <alchemist>“She sought the magical stone.”</alchemist> Kelly’s eyes widened. <kelly>“Wait,”</kelly> she said quickly. <kelly>“You don’t mean—”</kelly> <kelly>“Are you the alchemist?”</kelly> The old man smiled faintly. <alchemist>“Yes,”</alchemist> he replied. <alchemist>“I am the one.”</alchemist> Kelly hesitated, then gestured around the clearing. <kelly>“Then what was all that tribe stuff?”</kelly> she asked. <kelly>“We thought we were about to die.”</kelly> The alchemist let out a tired sigh. <alchemist>“Ugh… that?”</alchemist> he waved his hand dismissively. <alchemist>“Just a scenario I created with my magic.”</alchemist> <alchemist>“I use it to protect myself from unknown people. Keeps most away.”</alchemist> Emily exchanged a stunned look with Kelly. Kelly gathered her courage. <kelly>“Then…”</kelly> she said carefully, <kelly>“can you please give us the magical stone?”</kelly> For a moment, the alchemist was silent. Then— He burst into laughter. Deep, echoing laughter that filled the clearing. <alchemist>“The magical stone?”</alchemist> he chuckled, shaking his head. <alchemist>“You young ones…”</alchemist> His laughter slowly faded as he looked at them with knowing eyes. <alchemist>“You have no idea what you’re asking for.”</alchemist> [[Next|AlchemistTrial]]

The alchemist’s laughter slowly faded as he leaned on his staff, his expression turning serious. <alchemist>“I can only carve the stone,”</alchemist> he said firmly. <alchemist>“That is what allows me to make the glasses.”</alchemist> <alchemist>“But I do not possess the stone itself.”</alchemist> Emily frowned. <e>“You don’t?”</e> The alchemist shook his head. <alchemist>“No one in this world can carve it except me,”</alchemist> he continued. <alchemist>“It requires magic—old magic.”</alchemist> Emily took a breath, steadying herself. <e>“Then how can we get that stone?”</e> she asked. The alchemist’s gaze hardened. <alchemist>“You should not,”</alchemist> he replied bluntly. <alchemist>“There are very high chances you will not come back alive.”</alchemist> Emily clenched her fists. <e>“Then how did my mother do it?”</e> she asked, her voice shaking but determined. The alchemist went silent for a moment. <alchemist> She was different.</alchemist> Emily stepped forward slightly. <e>“Where do we find it?”</e> she asked. The alchemist studied both Emily and Kelly carefully, as if weighing their souls. <alchemist>“Are you sure you want to proceed?”</alchemist> he asked. Emily didn’t hesitate. <e>“Yes.”</e> Kelly nodded beside her. <kelly>“Yes,”</kelly> she said firmly. The alchemist exhaled slowly. <alchemist>“Very well,”</alchemist> he said. <alchemist>“Then your path will only grow darker from here.”</alchemist> [[Next|StoneLocationRevealed]]

The alchemist straightened slowly, his voice dropping into a storyteller’s tone, heavy with age and regret. <alchemist>“Listen carefully,”</alchemist> he said. <alchemist>“Because this is not just a story… it is a warning.”</alchemist> He tapped his staff against the ground once. <alchemist>“Long ago, Queen Enisia demanded a stone unlike anything the world had seen,”</alchemist> he began. <alchemist>“Her husband, desperate to please her, used seventy percent of his entire kingdom’s wealth to create it.”</alchemist> Emily and Kelly exchanged a glance. <alchemist>“The stone was flawless,”</alchemist> he continued. <alchemist>“It shined brighter than gold, brighter than truth itself.”</alchemist> <img src="Images/1.9/3.jpg"> <alchemist>“But beauty alone was not enough.”</alchemist> His eyes narrowed. <alchemist>“With the help of a powerful wizard, the king cursed the stone—so it would never belong to the unworthy.”</alchemist> Kelly swallowed. <kelly>“Cursed… how?”</kelly> <alchemist>“Power always demands a price,”</alchemist> he replied. <alchemist>“And Enisia understood that.”</alchemist> <alchemist>“She captured a demon and bound it with ancient chains, ordering it to guard the stone for eternity.”</alchemist> Emily’s breath caught. <e>“A demon?”</e> <alchemist>“Yes,”</alchemist> he nodded. <alchemist>“And for five hundred years, none dared challenge it.”</alchemist> He paused. <alchemist>“Until a king named Aurelion of Valcrest rose.”</alchemist> The name echoed through the clearing. <alchemist>“Aurelion sought glory above wisdom,”</alchemist> he said. <alchemist>“He fought the demon… and against all odds, he won.”</alchemist> <img src="Images/1.9/4.jpg"> Kelly’s eyes widened. <kelly>“So he got the stone?”</kelly> <alchemist>“Yes,”</alchemist> he replied. <alchemist>“He preserved it in a sealed chest, believing himself chosen.”</alchemist> The alchemist’s voice darkened. <alchemist>“But power reveals the true nature of men.”</alchemist> Emily leaned forward. <e>“What did he do?”</e> The alchemist exhaled slowly. <alchemist>“One day, while walking through a forest, King Aurelion discovered a priestess who had seen the stone,”</alchemist> he said. <alchemist>“Fearing she would expose him… he murdered her in cold blood.”</alchemist> Silence fell. <alchemist>“The wizard who had cursed the stone learned of this crime,”</alchemist> he continued. <alchemist>“And as punishment, he cast a final curse.”</alchemist> Kelly’s voice trembled. <kelly>“What kind of curse?”</kelly> <alchemist>“Time itself,”</alchemist> he said quietly. <alchemist>“Aurelion, his people, and his entire kingdom were trapped in a single moment—”</alchemist> <alchemist>“Forever frozen in the same time period, unable to age, unable to escape.”</alchemist> Emily felt a chill crawl down her spine. <alchemist>“And that,”</alchemist> he finished, <alchemist>“is where the stone remains.”</alchemist> The forest seemed unnaturally still. Emily lifted her head, determination burning in her eyes. <e>“Then that’s where we’ll go.”</e> Kelly nodded beside her. <kelly>“Together.”</kelly> The alchemist looked at them for a long moment… then sighed. <alchemist>“So be it,”</alchemist> he said. <alchemist>“But once you step into frozen time… there is no guarantee you will return.”</alchemist> [[Next|FrozenKingdom]]

The alchemist raised his staff, pressing its base firmly into the ground. The air around them began to hum. <alchemist>“Time does not open easily,”</alchemist> he warned, his voice echoing unnaturally. <alchemist>“Once you cross, the world you know will stop and when you return, time will start from now.”</alchemist> Symbols ignited beneath his feet, glowing faintly as the wind picked up, circling the clearing. Dust and leaves lifted into the air, spinning faster and faster. <kelly>I still have one question. How exactly did Daisy pull it off?</kelly> The alchemist leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he chose his words carefully. <alchemist>She… used her body. Got close to the stone that way.</alchemist> He paused, voice dropping lower.<alchemist>Even I don’t know the full details of how she finally took it.</alchemist> <kelly>You mean she seduced her way through the guards?</kelly> The alchemist gave a slow, almost reluctant nod, his gaze drifting to the flickering candle between them. <alchemist>More than the guards. She fucked her way through half the town, maybe more. Lords, merchants, soldiers—anyone who could get her one step closer. And the beauty of it…</alchemist> His lips curved into a wry half-smile.<alchemist>…is that no one remembers her afterward. The magic of the stone wipes her from their minds the moment she moves on. No names, no faces, no consequences. It let her unleash everything she kept buried—every hidden desire, every filthy impulse—without a single soul left to judge her.</alchemist> Kelly’s eyes widened slightly, a spark of something dangerous kindling behind them. <kelly>And pregnancy? Disease? Any of that?</kelly> <alchemist>No. The realm protects you. Your body stays exactly as it is now—fertile or not, marked or unmarked. Whatever happens there stays here. When if you return, you’ll step back into your old life untouched.</alchemist> Kelly leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. <kelly>So nobody there knows us. Nobody will ever remember what we do.</kelly> She let the words hang in the air, savoring them.<kelly>We could be the greediest, filthiest sluts this entire kingdom has ever seen. Fuck our way through every tavern, every castle, every guarded gate if that’s what it takes. Ride whoever we need, beg for it, take it—let every man in this world have us until we’re dripping and spent… and then just walk away clean. All for the stone. All to get home.</kelly> She reached across the table, fingers brushing Em’s wrist lightly, eyes gleaming with reckless hunger. <kelly>Think about it, Em. Total freedom. No shame. No tomorrow.</kelly> Em swallowed hard, cheeks burning. She looked down at her hands, voice barely above a whisper. <e>I… I don’t know.</e> <e>“Kelly…”</e> she whispered. Kelly reached out instantly, gripping Emily’s hand tightly. <kelly>“I’m here,”</kelly> she said, squeezing her fingers. <kelly>“We’ll do this together.”</kelly> The alchemist lifted his staff high. <alchemist>“By cursed stone and broken time,”</alchemist> he chanted, <alchemist>“By blood remembered and fate entwined—”</alchemist> A portal tore open in front of them. <img src="Images/1.9/5.jpg"> It shimmered like liquid glass, colors folding into one another—gold, violet, deep blue—revealing shadows of another era beyond it. Emily stared, her heart pounding. <e>“This is it…”</e> she said softly. Kelly nodded, fear and determination mixing in her eyes. <kelly>“No turning back now.”</kelly> They tightened their grip on each other’s hands. Together, they stepped forward— —and vanished into the swirling light. The portal snapped shut behind them, leaving the forest silent once more. [[Next|BackInTime]]

Emily stirred slowly, her senses returning one by one. <img src="Images/1.9/6.jpg"> The first thing she noticed was the bed—rough fabric beneath her fingers, unfamiliar and old. When she opened her eyes, she froze. Stone walls. Wooden beams. Flickering candlelight. Everything around her belonged to a different time. She sat up abruptly and realized she was naked, quickly pulling the thin sheet around herself. Panic flickered for a second, then faded into confusion. <et>Where… am I?</et> Her eyes scanned the room again. <e>“Kelly?”</e> Silence. The other side of the bed was empty. Emily swallowed, forcing herself to breathe. <et>She must have spawned somewhere else… the portal probably separated us.</et> She slid off the bed and noticed an old wooden wardrobe near the wall, its surface carved with strange symbols. Pulling it open, she found clothes neatly folded but very tight and revealing—clearly from this era. <img src="Images/1.9/7.jpg"> <et>At least someone thought of this.</et> She dressed quickly, the fabric heavy but comforting against her skin. Once ready, she glanced around the room again, taking in every detail. <et>This really is the empire… frozen in time.</et> Her jaw tightened with resolve. <et>I need to explore. And I need to find Kelly.</et> Emily walked to the door, placed her hand on the cold handle, and stepped out into the ancient corridors beyond. [[Next|EmpireCorridors]]

Emily had barely taken a few steps into the corridor when a voice startled her. An old man approached her, dressed in worn but neat clothes, his posture bent slightly with age. He smiled warmly, as if seeing her was the most normal thing in the world. <oldman>“Oh, Emily! You’re awake—good, good,”</oldman> he said cheerfully. <oldman>“We have so many customers today. You should get ready to serve them.”</oldman> Emily froze. <et>He… knows my name?</et> She stared at him, her mind racing. <et>Customers? Serve them? What is he talking about?</et> Her heart began to pound. <et>Does he think I work here?</et> <et>Am I… a waitress in this time?</et> The old man tilted his head slightly, looking at her with mild concern. <oldman>“Don’t tell me you’re still sleepy,”</oldman> he chuckled. <oldman>“Go on now, everyone’s already downstairs.”</oldman> Emily swallowed hard. <et>If I say something wrong, I might expose myself.</et> <et>I need to play along… at least until I understand what’s happening.</et> She forced a small smile. <e>“Y-Yeah… sorry,”</e> she said carefully. <e>“I’ll be right there.”</e> The old man nodded, satisfied, and slowly walked away down the corridor. Emily exhaled the moment he was out of sight. <et>Okay… stay calm.</et> <et>Learn the rules. Find Kelly.</et> Straightening her posture, she followed the corridor toward the stairs and began descending into whatever role this frozen empire had assigned her. [[Downstairs]]

Emily stepped down the last stair—and froze. The place below was alive. Wooden tables filled the wide hall, candles flickering, mugs clanking, laughter echoing off stone walls. The smell of ale and roasted food hung thick in the air. It was a tavern. Her eyes widened slightly. <et>A tavern…?</et> <et>So that’s it. I’m a waitress here.</et> A strange mix of disbelief and excitement settled in. <et>Okay… that’s actually kind of cool.</et> <et>Magic really just dropped me into a role.</et> Before she could overthink it, a wooden tray was pressed into her hands by someone passing by. Several mugs of beer sloshed gently on top. Emily instinctively steadied it. <et>Guess my body remembers this job, even if my mind doesn’t.</et> She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the crowd. Men sat laughing loudly, some arguing over dice, others mid-conversation. A few glanced up as she approached. [[A group of soldiers]]]]

Emily stood near the center of the tavern, a wooden crate of beer bottles balanced carefully in her arms. The dress she wore was… bold—shorter than anything she’d ever choose herself, fitted in a way that made her feel painfully aware of every glance thrown her way. Nothing explicit, but enough to make her shift her weight slightly. <img src="Images/1.9/8.jpg"> Loud laughter erupted from a table of soldiers near the hearth. A pair of merchants argued animatedly over dice in the corner. A quiet man sat alone near the bar, watching everything with sharp, unreadable eyes. Emily scanned the room, clutching the crate a little tighter. [[Group of musicians]] [[An old man]] <<if $serve>=2>> [[Shift end]] <</if>>

Emily wiped a stray streak of drying cum from her chin with the back of her hand as she moved through the tavern, tray empty now, hips swaying with newfound confidence. The soldiers’ table erupted in occasional hoots behind her, but her eyes scanned for the next opportunity, coins for information, pleasure for power. In the dimmest corner, away from the rowdy crowds, sat an old man alone. Gray beard unkempt, shoulders slumped, nursing a half-empty mug that looked like it had been sitting untouched for hours. His eyes were distant, heavy with something deeper than drink. Emily’s steps slowed. Something about him tugged at her—maybe the genuine sadness in his posture, so different from the leering hunger everywhere else. She approached softly, setting her tray on his table. <emily>“What can I get for you, good sir?”</emily> she asked, voice gentle for the first time that night. The old man looked up slowly, watery blue eyes meeting hers. He tried a weary smile that didn’t reach them. <oldman>“Nothing, lass. Just… memories tonight.”</oldman> He sighed, fingers tracing the rim of his mug. <oldman>“Lost my wife this winter. Forty years together. Now the house is too quiet, the bed too cold. Came here thinking noise might help… but it only reminds me how alone I am.”</oldman> His voice cracked on the last word. Emily’s heart twisted. Without thinking, she pulled out the chair beside him and sat close, resting a hand lightly on his weathered arm. <emily>“I’m sorry,”</emily> she said softly. <emily>“That’s a heavy thing to carry.”</emily> He shrugged, eyes dropping to the table. Something reckless and kind sparked in her at the same time—the same boldness that had her on her knees minutes ago, but softer now. <emily-thought>“Kelly said be the biggest slut… but maybe sometimes it’s about making someone feel alive again.”</emily-thought> She stood slowly, glancing around—no one nearby was watching the dark corner. <emily>“Let me cheer you up a little,”</emily> she whispered. Before he could respond, she grasped the hem of her low-cut shift and lifted it smoothly to her collarbone. Her full breasts spilled free—soft, pale, nipples pink and peaked from the cool air and earlier excitement. She cupped them gently and jiggled them—slow, playful bounces that made the flesh ripple invitingly. <img src="Images/1.9/16.gif"> [[Next|ND0M1]] <<set $serve+=1>>

She wove through the crowded room, heart pounding, until she reached the loudest table: five armored soldiers, helmets off, faces flushed with drink and victory. They quieted as she approached, eyes raking over her like hungry wolves. Emily set the mugs down one by one, leaning forward just enough to give them a generous view down her dress. The first soldier—a broad, bearded man with a scar across his cheek—grinned and reached out without warning. His large hand cracked against her bare ass beneath the short hem, the sharp slap echoing. Emily gasped, stumbling forward a step, heat blooming across her skin. <soldier1>“Finest ass I’ve seen in months,”</soldier1> he rumbled, giving the cheek a possessive squeeze. <soldier1>“Soft as fresh cream.”</soldier1> <img src="Images/1.9/9.gif"> The others laughed approvingly. Emily straightened, cheeks burning, but didn’t pull away. The sting felt… electric. The second soldier—lean, younger, with mischievous eyes—leaned back in his chair, jingling a small pouch. <soldier2>“How about you give us a proper look at those pretty tits, love?”</soldier2> He flicked five silver coins onto the table, clinking brightly. <soldier2>“Five silvers to bare ‘em right here. We’ll be gentlemen—mostly.”</soldier2> His friends whooped and banged their mugs. Emily’s breath caught. Her mind flashed to Kelly’s words before the spell—laughing in the alchemist’s tower, eyes sparkling with reckless excitement. <kelly-memory>“Nobody here knows us, Em. Nobody will ever remember who we were. We can be the biggest sluts this world has ever seen—fuck our way across the kingdom if we have to. Just get the stone and get home.”</kelly-memory> [[Propose a better idea]]

A slow, wicked smile spread across Emily’s face. She stepped closer, hips swaying, until she stood between the soldiers’ spread knees. <emily>“Five silvers for a peek?”</emily> Her voice was low, teasing. <emily>“That’s sweet. But I have a better offer.”</emily> She leaned down, hands braced on the table, letting her dress gape open so they could almost—but not quite—see everything. <emily>“Twenty silvers. All five of you. And I get on my knees right here… and suck every single one of you until you finish down my throat.”</emily> The table went dead silent. Five pairs of eyes stared at her, stunned. One soldier’s mug stopped halfway to his mouth, ale sloshing over his fingers. The bearded one recovered first, a slow grin splitting his face. <soldier1>“Gods below… did the wench just say—”</soldier1> <soldier2>“Twenty silvers to have this beauty swallow all of us?”</soldier2> He laughed, incredulous, but his hand was already digging into his coin purse. The others followed, coins hitting the table in a bright, eager rain—far more than twenty. Emily’s heart raced, a thrill of power and heat surging through her. <emily-thought>“Kelly was right. Nobody knows me here.”</emily-thought> <emily-thought>“And I’m going to earn that magic stone… one cock at a time.”</emily-thought> She dropped gracefully to her knees between their chairs, hands already reaching for the nearest belt buckle, lips parted in anticipation. <img src="Images/1.9/10.jpg"> <emily>“Who’s first, gentlemen?”</emily> [[Blowjob]]

The bearded soldier went first. He stood, unlaced his trousers, and freed his thick, already-hard cock. Emily leaned forward, lips parting, and took him deep in one slow slide. Her tongue swirled along the underside as she bobbed, cheeks hollowing, eyes watering just enough to make it feel real. <img src="Images/1.9/11.gif"> <soldier1>“Gods… that mouth,”</soldier1> he groaned, fingers threading gently into her hair—not forcing, just guiding. She worked him eagerly—sucking, licking, humming around him—until his thighs tensed and he pulled free with a ragged breath. <emily>“Next,”</emily> she murmured, voice husky, lips glistening. The lean, younger soldier stepped up, cock longer and curved. Emily wrapped her hand around the base and took him to the back of her throat in one smooth motion. He cursed softly, hips jerking as she set a faster rhythm, saliva trailing down her chin onto her heaving breasts where the dress had slipped low. One by one, she serviced them. <img src="Images/1.9/12.gif"> The third was thickest—she stretched her jaw wide, gagging just slightly as she forced herself deeper, tears pricking her eyes while he praised her in a low growl. <img src="Images/1.9/13.gif"> The fourth tasted of salt and leather; she teased him slowly at first, tongue tracing every vein, then sucked hard and fast until he had to pull away, panting. All four now stood around her, cocks slick and throbbing from her mouth, stroking themselves slowly as they watched her kneel—dress bunched at her waist, breasts fully exposed, face flushed and lips swollen. The fifth—the quiet one who’d barely spoken—finally stepped forward. <img src="Images/1.9/14.gif"> <soldier2>“Together,”</soldier2> said simply, voice rough. <soldier2>“On her face. Now.”</soldier2> They closed in tight, surrounding her completely. Emily tilted her head back, mouth open, tongue out, eyes fluttering up to meet theirs. She reached down between her own thighs, rubbing herself shamelessly as they pumped their fists faster. The first hot spurt hit her cheek—thick and warm. Then another across her forehead. The third painted her lips and tongue. The fourth striped over her nose and eyelids. The fifth aimed lower, ropes landing across her breasts and dripping down. Five loads, one after another, until her face was glazed—cum sliding in slow rivulets down her cheeks, chin, throat. Some dripped from her lashes; she blinked it away and smiled, slow and satisfied, licking what she could reach from her lips. <img src="Images/1.9/15.jpg"> The soldiers breathed hard, staring down at their work in stunned admiration. <soldier1>“Best silver I ever spent,”</soldier1> muttered, tucking himself away. Emily stayed on her knees a moment longer, letting it sink in—the sticky warmth on her skin, the taste on her tongue, the power humming in her veins. <emily-thought>“Four down. One table closer to the stone.”</emily-thought> She rose gracefully, wiped a streak from her cheek with the back of her hand, and flashed them a wicked grin. <emily>“Enjoy your ale, gentlemen,”</emily> said, voice steady despite the mess on her face. <emily>“I’ve got more tables to serve.”</emily> The soldiers erupted in hoarse cheers as she turned, hips swaying, cum still glistening on her skin as she disappeared into the smoky crowd—already scanning for the next group with deep pockets and hungry eyes. [[Leave|Lets Serve]] <<set $blacksmith=false>> <<set $lake=false>> <<set $guards=false>> <<set $serve=0>>

The old man’s eyes widened, breath catching. A faint flush rose in his weathered cheeks. A small, wondering smile—real this time—tugged at the corner of his mouth. <oldman>“Gods… you’re an angel, girl,”</oldman> he murmured, voice trembling with sudden warmth. Emily noticed the change lower too: beneath the table, the front of his worn trousers tented noticeably, the outline of his hardening cock clear even in the shadows. He followed her gaze, embarrassed, but she only smiled wider. <img src="Images/1.9/17.jpg"> <oldman>“I… I’m sorry, lass. Been years since… well. You’ve woken an old man up.”</oldman> He shifted uncomfortably, hand hovering as if unsure what to do. Emily leaned in, breasts still bare and close enough that he could feel their warmth. <emily>“Would you like me to take care of that for you?”</emily> she asked, voice low and kind. His eyes searched hers, disbelieving. <oldman>“I couldn’t ask—”</oldman> <emily>“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”</emily> She glanced down at her exposed chest, then back to him. <emily>“You can finish right here… on my breasts. Let me feel you.”</emily> The old man exhaled shakily, hand moving to his lap. He unlaced his trousers with trembling fingers, freeing his cock—surprisingly thick for his age, rigid and flushed. Emily stayed close, holding her top up, breasts offered like a gift. She watched as he stroked himself slowly at first, then faster, eyes locked on her soft, jiggling flesh. His breathing grew ragged. The sadness in his face melted into raw, grateful need. With a quiet groan, he came—warm ropes spilling across her breasts in gentle pulses, painting her skin in thick white streaks that slid slowly over her nipples and down the curves. <img src="Images/1.9/18.gif"> Emily didn’t flinch. She let him finish completely, a soft smile on her lips. When he finally sagged back, spent and dazed, she lowered her top—but not before scooping a little of his release onto her finger and tasting it lightly, just for him to see. <emily>“Feel a little better?”</emily> she asked. The old man’s eyes glistened—not with sorrow now, but something lighter. <oldman>“More than I have in months, sweet girl. Bless you.”</oldman> Emily pressed a soft kiss to his weathered cheek, then stood, his warmth still glistening on her chest beneath the thin fabric. <emily>“Any time you need cheering, you come find me,”</emily> she whispered. As she walked away, tray in hand, she felt his gaze follow her—grateful, alive. <emily-thought>“Maybe the stone isn’t the only magic I’ll find here.”</emily-thought> [[Next|Lets Serve]]

Emily stepped outside, the cool air brushing against her skin as the door closed behind her. The sounds of laughter and clinking mugs faded, replaced by the quiet hum of an unfamiliar town. Stone roads stretched out in every direction. Old lanterns glowed softly, lighting narrow alleys, market stalls, and distant towers frozen in time. Emily stood still for a moment, taking it all in. <et>My shift is over…</et> <et>Now I’m free.</et> She looked around carefully. <et>This town is completely new to me.</et> <et>Somewhere here is the stone.</et> <et>And somewhere… Kelly.</et> Her fingers curled slightly as determination settled in. <et>Where should I go?</et> [[Blacksmith]] [[King's castle]] [[Tavern]] [[Lake]]

<<if $blacksmith==false>> Emily pushed open the heavy wooden door of the blacksmith’s shop, the wave of heat and the rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil hitting her at once. Sparks flew in the dim light as the burly blacksmith—broad-shouldered, soot-streaked, shirt clinging to his muscled chest with sweat—pounded a glowing blade on the anvil. He glanced up when she entered, hammer pausing mid-swing. <blacksmith>“Never seen you before, lass,”</blacksmith> he said, wiping his brow with a thick forearm. <blacksmith>“You new to the village?”</blacksmith> Emily blinked, momentarily thrown. She had assumed everyone in this small medieval town would already know the tavern waitress who’d spent the night on her knees. The soldiers’ loud bragging clearly hadn’t reached every ear yet. <emily-thought>“Good. Maybe I’m not infamous everywhere… yet.”</emily-thought> She recovered quickly, stepping closer with a small smile. <emily>“I work at the tavern. Serving ale… and whatever else the customers want.”</emily> The blacksmith set his hammer down with a heavy thunk and walked toward her, interest sparking in his dark eyes. <blacksmith>“Ahhh. So you’re the girl the soldiers were goin’ on about.”</blacksmith> He grinned, showing strong white teeth against the soot. <blacksmith>“They just left here—bought five new swords off me, still flush with coin and pride. Couldn’t stop talkin’ about the pretty wench who gave ‘em the best blowjobs of their lives. Said you swallowed like you were born to it.”</blacksmith> Heat crept up Emily’s neck, but she lifted her chin proudly. <emily>“Yeah. That’s me.”</emily> [[Next|NBM01]] <<else>> <blacksmith> Meet you tommorow morning.</blacksmith> [[Leave|Shift end]] <</if>>

<<if $guards==false>> Emily approached the massive stone gatehouse of the king’s castle just as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the road. Two guards in polished chainmail stood watch, halberds crossed lazily in front of the portcullis. They straightened as she neared, eyes narrowing. <guard1>“Halt. No one passes without royal business or invitation,”</guard1> barked, hand resting on his sword hilt. <guard2>“Especially not tavern wenches,”</guard2> added with a smirk, gaze dropping openly to her low-cut dress. Emily stopped a few paces away, tilting her head with a playful smile. <emily>“What if I do… this?”</emily> Without hesitation, she grasped the neckline of her shift and pulled it down in one smooth motion. Her full breasts spilled free—bare, soft, nipples hardening instantly in the evening breeze. She cupped them lightly, lifting and offering them to the guards like a gift. <img src="Images/1.9/24.gif"> Both men froze, mouths parting. Their eyes locked on her exposed chest, hunger flashing across their faces. <guard1>“Bloody hells…”</guard1> he muttered. <guard2>“Alright, love,”</guard2> said quickly, voice thick. <guard2>“You can pass… if you let us finish on that pretty face of yours.”</guard2> <guard1>“Aye. Both of us. Right here.”</guard1> Emily’s pulse quickened, but she didn’t cover herself. Instead, she sank gracefully to her knees on the dusty road, breasts still bare, and looked up at them with a wicked gleam. <emily>“Deal. Come on, then.”</emily> [[Next|NDM01]] <<else>> <et> I don't even want to talk with those bastards.</et> [[Leave|Shift end]] <</if>>

<<if $blacksmith==true && $lake==true && $guards==true>> Emily pushed open the tavern’s back door long after the sun had set, the noisy common room reduced to a low murmur of late-night drinkers. The air still smelled of ale, smoke, and roasted meat, but the frenzy of the evening had finally died down. She felt every step in her bones. Thighs sore from walking the village paths, jaw aching faintly from earlier pleasures, skin still tingling from lake water and rough hands. The short shift clung to her like a second skin, stained and rumpled from the day’s adventures. The tavern owner barely glanced up from wiping tankards. <owner>“Rough night, girl?”</owner> <emily>“You have no idea,”</emily> murmured, too tired to smile. She climbed the narrow stairs to the small attic room the tavern provided for its serving girls—a cramped space with a straw-stuffed mattress, a single rickety chair, and a tiny window looking out over the rooftops. Emily closed the door softly, leaned against it for a moment, and let out a long, slow breath. She peeled off the shift and let it drop to the floor, standing naked in the cool moonlight that spilled through the window. Her body bore the faint marks of the day: a faint handprint on one cheek, a small bruise on her hip from the classroom floor in another life, the lingering scent of different men on her skin. She crawled onto the mattress, pulling the thin blanket over her bare curves, and lay on her back staring at the rough wooden beams above. <emily-thought>“What a day…”</emily-thought> [[Next|ND8723]] <<else>> <et>I have already completed my shift, I should explore the town and then come here for sleep.</et> [[Leave|Shift end]] <</if>>

The blacksmith chuckled, looking her up and down with open appreciation. <blacksmith>“So why’s a talented little slut like you wanderin’ into my forge?”</blacksmith> Emily didn’t flinch at the word. She stepped closer, letting her hips sway. <emily>“I… mm… need a favor.”</emily> She bit her lip, playing shy for effect. <emily>“Can you help me get into the king’s assembly?”</emily> He raised a thick eyebrow. <blacksmith>“The royal assembly? Why would a tavern girl want in there?”</blacksmith> <emily>“I need to lodge a complaint with the king himself,”</emily> she said, thinking quickly. <emily>“The tavern owner’s been shorting our wages and forcing us girls into… extra duties without fair pay. I’m new here, don’t know the roads or the guards. I need someone who knows the way.”</emily> The blacksmith scratched his beard, considering. <blacksmith>“Hm. I see. Well, I do deliver weapons to the palace armory regular-like. Could maybe get you in the gates… but it’ll take time. Got fifty swords and shields due to His Majesty in three days, or I’ll lose my contract—and probably my head on a spike.”</blacksmith> <emily>“The king’s that cruel?”</emily> <blacksmith>“Nah, not cruel. Just expects his orders filled. Truth is, I’ve had a whole month and my lazy arse put it off too long. Now I’m buried.”</blacksmith> Emily’s eyes lit up. Opportunity. <emily>“I can help you finish on time.”</emily> He laughed outright. <blacksmith>“You? Swingin’ a hammer? You’d burn your pretty hands in an hour.”</blacksmith> <emily>“Not me. I’ll bring more men to work for you.”</emily> <blacksmith>“And how’m I supposed to pay extra hands? I’m barely scrapin’ by as it is.”</blacksmith> <emily>“No need to pay them anything,”</emily> she said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. <emily>“They’ll work for free.”</emily> The blacksmith stared at her for a long moment, then let out a low, knowing chuckle. <blacksmith>“Ah… I think I understand your kind of payment.”</blacksmith> His gaze lingered on her lips. <blacksmith>“Alright, lass. Bring me strong backs that’ll work hard and ask nothin’ but a smile from you, and I’ll get you into that assembly.”</blacksmith> Emily flashed him a wicked grin. <emily>“Deal. You’ll have your extra men by tomorrow morning.”</emily> She turned to leave, hips swaying deliberately as she walked toward the door. Over her shoulder, she added, <emily>“And when the work’s done… maybe I’ll come back and show you why those soldiers won’t shut up about me.”</emily> The blacksmith’s deep laugh followed her out into the cooling evening air. <emily-thought>“One step closer to the palace. One step closer to the stone.”</emily-thought> <emily-thought>“And a whole forge full of sweaty, grateful men to play with along the way.”</emily-thought> She pulled her cloak tighter and headed back toward the tavern, already planning which tables to visit tonight. [[Leave|Shift end]] <<set $blacksmith=true>>

The guards glanced around—no one else on the road—then stepped closer, unlacing their trousers with eager hands. Their cocks sprang free, already hard and heavy. Emily tilted her face up, lips parted, eyes fluttering between them as they began stroking themselves furiously just inches from her. The first guard groaned low, hips jerking. Thick ropes of cum shot across her cheeks and forehead, warm and sticky, dripping down toward her chin. <img src="Images/1.9/25.gif"> The second followed seconds later—aiming lower, painting her lips, nose, and eyelashes in hot pulses until her face glistened with their combined release. Emily stayed kneeling, letting it settle on her skin, a slow smile curving her cum-slick lips. She licked a drop from the corner of her mouth and looked up. <img src="Images/1.9/26.gif"> <emily>“I can go now?”</emily> The guards tucked themselves away, breathing hard, smug grins spreading as they buckled their belts. <guard1>“Slut, we were just messing with you,”</guard1> laughed, cold and mocking. <guard2>“Yeah, get lost. Tavern trash doesn’t walk into the castle.”</guard2> He waved her off dismissively. <guard2>“Nice tits, though. Thanks for the show.”</guard2> Emily’s smile vanished. Humiliation burned hot in her chest, mixing with the cooling mess on her face. She rose slowly, pulling her dress back up without wiping anything away, chin high despite the sticky trails sliding down her neck and onto her cleavage. <emily-thought>“Bastards. Fine. Not through the front gate, then.”</emily-thought> She turned without a word and walked away, the guards’ crude laughter echoing behind her. <emily-thought>“I’ll find another way in. And when I do… they’ll regret this.”</emily-thought> Cum still glistening on her skin, Emily disappeared into the twilight shadows along the castle wall, already searching for a servants’ entrance, a loose stone, anything. [[Leave|Shift end]] <<set $guards=true>>

<<if $blacksmith==true && $lake==false>> Emily wandered along the dirt path away from the castle walls, the guards’ laughter still stinging in her ears and their cum drying tacky on her face. The evening air was cooling; she needed to clean up and think of a new plan. A narrow trail led her toward the sound of splashing water and low male voices. Through a screen of willow branches she spotted a small, secluded lake—sunlit and shimmering. Six men were bathing naked in the shallows, clothes piled on the rocks nearby. They looked like laborers or farmhands: strong backs, muscled arms, skin tanned from long days in the fields. Some washed lazily, others wrestled and dunked each other, laughing. <emily-thought>“Strong backs. Exactly what the blacksmith needs.”</emily-thought> She took a steadying breath, and stepped out from the trees. The laughter quieted as the men noticed her. Six pairs of eyes turned, curious at first, then widening as they took in the pretty tavern girl in her short, clinging shift—breasts pushing against the thin fabric, nipples visible, skirt barely covering her thighs. <img src="Images/1.9/19.gif"> <emily>“Afternoon, gentlemen,”</emily> called cheerfully, walking right to the water’s edge. <emily>“Mind if I join you? It’s been a hot, messy day.”</emily> One of the men—a tall, broad-chested one with wet blond hair—grinned. <man1>“We don’t mind at all, lass. Water’s fine.”</man1> [[Join them|JDM01]] <<elseif $lake==true>> <et> They are not here anymore, I should leave too.</et> [[Leave|Shift end]] <<else>> The lake lay ahead—still, quiet, untouched. Moonlight reflected softly on the water’s surface, broken only by a gentle breeze. No voices. No movement. She looked around once more. <et>No one’s here…</et> <et>Good.</et> Everything that had happened—the tavern, the rumors, the forge—pressed heavily on her mind. <et>I really need this.</et> Emily set her things down on a smooth rock and carefully removed her clothes, folding them neatly. She stepped into the water slowly, gasping as the coolness wrapped around her legs, then her waist. <img src="Images/1.9/20.jpg"> She waded in until the water reached her shoulders and sank slightly, letting it wash over her. <et>This place… even the water feels old.</et> <et>Like time itself is holding its breath.</et> She cupped water in her hands and splashed her face, closing her eyes. The tension in her body eased little by little. <img src="Images/1.9/21.gif"> <et>Okay… focus.</et> <et>Find Kelly. Find the stone.</et> After a while, Emily moved back toward the shore, droplets trailing down her skin as she stepped out. She dried herself with a cloth she’d brought along, dressed quietly, and gathered her things. She took one last look at the lake. <et>That helped.</et> <et>Now back to reality.</et> With renewed calm and determination, Emily turned away and headed back toward the town. [[Next|Shift end]] <</if>>

Emily didn’t hesitate. She grasped the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head in one motion, letting it drop to the grass. Completely naked now, she stood in the golden light—full breasts swaying, hips curved, skin still faintly marked from earlier adventures. The men went still, mouths open. <img src="Images/1.9/22.jpg"> <emily>“Much better,”</emily> she sighed, wading into the cool water until it lapped at her waist. She scooped handfuls over her chest and face, washing away the last traces of the guards, letting the water run down her body in glistening rivulets. The men drifted closer, trying—and failing—to look casual. <man2>“You’re the new girl from the tavern, aren’t you?”</man2> asked a dark-haired one, voice a little hoarse. <man2>“Heard the soldiers talking…”</man2> <emily>“That’s me,”</emily> she said, turning to face them fully, water dripping from her nipples. <emily>“And I’ve got a proposition for strong, handsome men like you.”</emily> She moved toward the center of the group, letting her breasts brush lightly against wet chests as she passed. <emily>“The blacksmith in the village needs fifty swords and shields finished in three days, or the king will have his hide. He can’t do it alone. He needs extra hands—strong ones.”</emily> She reached the blond leader, trailing a finger down his slick chest. <emily>“You six look plenty strong.”</emily> <man1>“And what’s in it for us?”</man1> he asked, though his eyes were fixed on her hardening nipples. <img src="Images/1.9/23.jpg"> [[Next|ND4501]] <<set $lake=true>>

Emily smiled slowly, sinking lower until the water lapped at her collarbone. She reached out and wrapped a hand around his half-hard cock beneath the surface, stroking gently. <emily>“You work hard for three days… and every evening, I’ll come here—or wherever you like—and thank you properly.”</emily> She turned to the next man, hand sliding to his shaft, then the next, touching each in turn while they stared, stunned and rapidly hardening. <emily>“Mouth, hands, tits, between my thighs—whatever you want. All of you. As often as you want. Until the work is done.”</emily> She rose slightly so her breasts broke the surface, water streaming off them. <emily>“And when the blacksmith delivers on time, I’ll throw in a special celebration. All six of you… at once.”</emily> A low groan rippled through the group. The blond leader’s cock throbbed in her palm. <man1>“You’re serious?”</man1> <emily>“Deadly,”</emily> she whispered, pumping him slowly under the water. <emily>“Start tomorrow morning. Tell him Emily sent you. Work hard… and I’ll be very, very grateful.”</emily> She released him, waded back to shore, and bent slowly to pick up her dress—giving them a full view of her ass and the glimpse between her legs. <emily>“See you at dawn, boys,”</emily> called over her shoulder, slipping the dress back on and walking away without looking back. Behind her, the men erupted into excited chatter, already planning shifts and bragging about what they’d do to her first. <emily-thought>“Six strong workers for free. Blacksmith will be thrilled.”</emily-thought> <emily-thought>“And I get to spend three evenings being thoroughly thanked.”</emily-thought> She smiled to herself as she headed back toward the village, the cool water still dripping down her thighs. The magic stone was getting closer every day. [[Leave|Shift end]]

She shifted under the blanket, thighs pressing together at the memory. A low ache of arousal lingered, but exhaustion won. <emily-thought>“I’m getting closer. Workers for the blacksmith. A way into the castle soon. The stone is waiting.”</emily-thought> <emily-thought>“And Kelly was right… nobody here knows me. I can do anything. Be anything.”</emily-thought> A small, tired smile curved her lips. <emily-thought>“Tomorrow will be another long day. More men. More favors. More steps toward going home.”</emily-thought> Her eyelids grew heavy. The distant clatter of mugs downstairs faded. The moonlight softened. Emily’s breathing slowed, body finally relaxing into the mattress. Within minutes, she was asleep—naked under the blanket, lips slightly parted, dreaming of magic stones, castle halls, and the endless possibilities of a world where no one would ever remember her name. [[Sleep|Day 2]]

<alchemist>“She was…she used her body to go closer to the stone”</alchemist> he said slowly. <alchemist>“Even I do not know how Daisy obtained the stone.”</alchemist> <kelly> You mean she seduced guys there></kelly> <alchemist> Yeah she fucked almost whole town, but the good thing is they can't remember her and that's what just gave chance to bring her inner slut. No worry of getting judged.</alchemist> <kelly> And what about body? Don't we get pregnant there? </kelly> <alchemist> No you can't and you will have the boyd you have now if you ever return back.</alchemist> <kelly> Intresting.</kelly>

Emily carried the heavy crate of ale bottles toward the small raised platform in the corner, where the traveling minstrels had been entertaining the crowd all evening with lively tunes and bawdy lyrics. Her short dress clung to her skin, still flushed from her earlier encounter with the soldiers—the taste of them lingering faintly on her lips. The tavern roared with approval at the musicians' latest song, tankards clashing in rhythm. The four men—lean and roguish, with lutes, a flute, drum, and harp—spotted her approaching and waved her over with grins. <leader>“More ale for the bards who keep this place alive, sweet one!”</leader> the bearded leader called, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Emily set the crate down and distributed the bottles, bending just enough to give them a teasing view down her low neckline. As she straightened, the drummer leaned in close. <drummer>“Word travels fast in a tavern like this,”</drummer> he murmured, glancing toward the soldiers' table. <drummer>“We saw the special service you gave those lads by the hearth. Care to inspire your musicians the same way?”</drummer> The others chuckled, nodding eagerly. Emily's pulse quickened, a mix of nerves and thrill. She needed the coin—and the information that might come with generous tips. <emily>“I might be persuaded,”</emily> she said with a coy smile, <emily>“but only for a very good tip. Upfront.”</emily> They exchanged amused looks, then pooled a handful of silver coins—more than generous—and slid them across the small table into her waiting palm. <leader>“Fair enough. But nothing too rowdy on stage. Just join us properly—shed that dress and relax with us in your smallclothes while we play the next set. Be our muse for the crowd.”</leader> [[Next|NMU]]

The offer was bold, public, but the platform was somewhat shielded by the throng, and the tavern loved a good show. Emily tucked the coins safely away, her heart racing. <emily-thought>“Kelly would approve—turn every eye, every chance into power. And it's just a bit of skin... right?”</emily-thought> She glanced around quickly—no one objecting, the crowd already buzzing in anticipation. With a deep breath, she reached for the laces of her bold little dress and loosened them. The fabric whispered down her body, pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her thin, modern bra and panties—sleek and revealing, <img src="Images/1.9/28.webp"> The leader strummed a chord, and they launched into a lively, upbeat melody—the crowd clapping along. Emboldened by the music and the admiring stares, Emily decided to join in. She mimed holding an instrument across her lap, fingers dancing rapidly in the air, strumming invisible strings with enthusiastic rocks of her head and body, lost in the rhythm of a song from her own time. <img src="Images/1.9/27.webp"> The flute player faltered a note, laughing. <flutist>“What sorcery is that, lass? What instrument are you pretending to play?”</flutist> The leader paused mid-strum, leaning closer with genuine curiosity. <leader>“Aye, those motions—never seen a lute or harp played like that. What's the name of this phantom thing?”</leader> Emily's fingers froze. Panic flashed through her—here, a millennium before her world, no one would know. <emily>“It's... it's called a guitar,”</emily> she said, trying to sound casual. <emily>“Very popular in my village. Fast strumming, loud and wild.”</emily> The drummer tilted his head, frowning. <drummer>“Guitar? Never heard tell of it on any road or in any court. What manner of village crafts such a strange instrument?”</drummer> The others murmured agreement, eyes narrowing with interest—too much interest. <emily-thought>“Shit, too close. They suspect something. Change the subject, get out now.”</emily-thought> She laughed lightly, standing abruptly and snatching her dress from the floor, clutching it to her chest. <emily>“Just a silly game we play back home—you wouldn't understand it here,”</emily> she said quickly, backing away with a playful wink to mask her nerves. <emily>“Enjoy the ale, gentlemen. I should... check on other tables.”</emily> The minstrels called after her with good-natured protests, but she was already weaving through the crowd, dress half-pulled on, heart pounding. She'd earned the tip. She'd given them a show. But she'd nearly slipped—and in this time, that could be deadly. [[Next|Lets Serve]] <<set $serve+=1>>

Morning light filtered softly through the tavern windows as Emily stretched, blinking away sleep. She glanced down at herself, then around the unfamiliar room. <et>Okay… new day.</et> <et>First thing—bath.</et> She stepped out into the main hall, spotting the oldman wiping down the counter. Gathering her courage, she walked over. <e>“Um… excuse me,”</e> she said politely. <e>“Where’s the bathroom?”</e> The oldman paused mid-wipe and looked at her, confused. <oldman>“Bathroom?”</oldman> Emily nodded. <oldman>“Ah,”</oldman> he chuckled. <oldman>“You go to the lake.”</oldman> <oldman>“That’s where girls bathes.”</oldman> Emily stared at him. <et>The… lake?</et> <e>“The lake?”</e> she repeated, disbelief slipping into her voice. <oldman>“Yes,”</oldman> he said casually, already back to cleaning. <oldman>“Fresh water. Always has been.”</oldman> Emily sighed quietly. <et>Ugh… new problem.</et> <et>Guess modern plumbing didn’t make it to this century.</et> She gave a small nod. <e>“Alright… thanks,”</e> she said. Turning away, Emily grabbed her things. <et>Okay, Emily.</et> <et>Lake it is.</et> She headed out of the tavern, already mentally preparing herself for another trip through this strange, frozen world. [[Next|MorningAtTheLake]] <<set $m01_revenge=false>> <<set $m01_princess_black=false>> <<set $m01_thief=false>> <<set $m01_shift=0>> <<set $princess_pro=false>> <<set $magistrate_m01=false>> <<set $kelly_arrested=false>>

Emily reached the lake just as the morning light settled over the water. She stopped. A few women were already there, standing near the shore, completely at ease as they bathed together. Laughter echoed softly, water rippling around them. No shame. No hesitation. <img src="Images/2.0/2.jpg"> Emily felt her steps slow. <et>Oh…</et> <et>They’re all just… naked.</et> Her cheeks warmed slightly as she stood there, unsure for a moment. <et>This would’ve embarrassed me before.</et> Her thoughts drifted back to everything that had happened—the tavern, the rumors, the strange role this world had placed on her. <et>I’ve already done far more uncomfortable things than this.</et> <et>This is nothing.</et> Emily exhaled quietly. She set her things down, turned her back to the others, and removed her clothes without rushing. No drama—just acceptance. She stepped into the water slowly, the coolness wrapping around her legs, then her waist. <img src="Images/2.0/3.webp"> The women barely reacted, treating her like she belonged there. Emily sank into the lake, letting the water wash over her shoulders. <et>Okay… focus.</et> <et>Clean up. Clear your head.</et> She bathed quickly, efficiently, not lingering. When she stepped back out, she dried herself, dressed, and gathered her things. As she turned away from the lake, her expression hardened into quiet resolve. <et>No more distractions.</et> <et>I have people to meet this morning.</et> With that, Emily headed back toward the town, ready for whatever came next. [[Next|MorningMeetings]]

Emily stood near the edge of the town square, counting silently. Six men. They waited there—rough clothes, tired faces, curious eyes—all watching her expectantly. <et>Good… they actually came.</et> She turned and led them through the streets without saying much. Soon, the familiar sound of hammering metal filled the air. The blacksmith looked up as they approached—and froze. <blacksmith>“Wait… what?”</blacksmith> Emily stopped in front of him and gestured behind her. <e>“These are the men,”</e> she said calmly. <e>“They’ll work for you for three days.”</e> The blacksmith stared at the group, then back at Emily, clearly stunned. <blacksmith>“You actually did it?”</blacksmith> he muttered. <blacksmith>“Six men… just like that?”</blacksmith> He crossed his arms, eyeing her suspiciously. <blacksmith>“How?”</blacksmith> he asked. <blacksmith>“Did you use those… tavern tricks everyone talks about?”</blacksmith> Emily met his gaze without flinching. <e>“It doesn’t matter how,”</e> she replied evenly. <e>“You wanted workers. You have them.”</e> For a moment, the blacksmith said nothing. Then he laughed, shaking his head. <blacksmith>“Fine,”</blacksmith> he said. <blacksmith>“Let’s see if they’re worth it.”</blacksmith> Emily turned to leave. As she walked away, one of the six men caught her eye and gave her a slow, knowing wink—just subtle enough that no one else noticed. Emily didn’t react. She kept walking, leaving the forge—and the blacksmith—behind for now. [[Next|TownNextMove]]

She hurried through the muddy lanes, hair damp from a quick, shivering wash at the stream. By the time she slipped through the tavern’s heavy door, the morning light was already strong, and the room hummed with the low murmur of early patrons. The old man—gray-bearded, shoulders stooped, the same one who had sat alone in the dim corner the night before—stood behind the bar today. He was the owner, though few remembered it; most just called him Old Thom. His watery blue eyes lifted as she entered, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. <oldman>“Late , girl,”</oldman> he rasped, voice rough as weathered oak. He set down the tankard he’d been polishing with a deliberate clunk. <oldman>“Over an hour. Where were you?”</oldman> Emily smoothed her hands over the scandalously short dress—still the same one, freshly scrubbed though it clung tighter than ever—and dipped her head. <emily>“I’m so sorry, master Thom,”</emily> she said softly. <emily>“The bath took longer than I thought. The water was ice-cold, and… after last night, I needed to scrub everything twice.”</emily> She offered a small, apologetic smile, hoping the quiet sincerity would reach him. The truth was the sticky residue between her thighs, the faint bruises blooming on her knees—she’d lingered in the stream longer than necessary, letting the cold numb the ache. Old Thom studied her for a long moment, gaze traveling slowly from her damp curls to the low neckline that barely contained her. He sighed, the sound heavy with something between weariness and reluctant fondness. <oldman>“Excuses won’t pour ale, lass. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”</oldman> He nodded toward the far corner of the tavern, where a long table had been cleared near the best hearth. Two men sat there in dark blue cloaks trimmed with silver, swords propped against chair legs, breastplates gleaming even in the muted light. Royal guards. Elite. Dangerous. <oldman>“Today is no ordinary day. Those are the King’s own men. Passing through on royal business. They expect the finest service—first drinks, first food, first attention. You go to them now. Serve them well.”</oldman> He leaned closer, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. <oldman>“And if they want more… the kind of more you gave the soldiers last time… you give it. They pay in gold, and a word from them can make or break this place. You understand me?”</oldman> Emily’s stomach twisted—fear and heat curling together. Royal guards. Men who carried the King’s authority in their hands, who could take whatever they pleased without consequence. She swallowed, nodded. <emily>“Yes, master . I’ll take care of them.”</emily> He pushed a heavy tray toward her—already laden with foaming tankards of dark ale and a basket of warm bread. <oldman>“Go on, then. Don’t keep them waiting.”</oldman> [[Next|ND0M3]]

Emily lifted the heavy tray, balancing it carefully as she made her way toward the royal guards’ table. The foam on the ale trembled with each step, but her gaze sharpened the instant she recognized two of the faces in the firelight. The tall one with the crooked scar across his knuckles. The younger one with the close-cropped beard and that same smug curl to his lip. The same two who had dragged her last night. The same two who had used her mouth until they painted her face and laughed about it. The same two who had walked away without so much as a copper tossed her way. Royal guards. Men who carried the King’s seal. Men who could ruin her life with a single word to the wrong person. Men who tipped in gold when they were pleased—and gold was exactly what she needed to keep surviving in this time. Her steps slowed for half a heartbeat. The scarred one’s eyes met hers first. Recognition. Hunger. A slow, knowing smirk. <guard1>“Look who it is,”</guard1> he drawled, loud enough for the whole table to hear. <guard1>“Our favorite little cocksucker from last night. Back for more already?”</guard1> The younger one laughed, leaning forward. <guard2>“She’s walking funny. Bet she’s still sore.”</guard2> The rest of the table chuckled. The captain watched in silence, one brow lifted, waiting to see what she would do. Emily set the tray down with careful grace, bending low so her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her dress. She let them look. Let them remember. <img src="Images/2.0/4.jpg"> [[Take revenge]] [[Submission]]

Emily set the heavy tray down in the center of the royal guards’ table with deliberate slowness, letting the foam settle on the dark ale while she bent forward just enough to give them a generous view down her low neckline. <img src="Images/2.1/1.jpg"> The scarred one and the younger bearded one were already watching her like wolves scenting blood—the same hungry looks they’d worn last night when they’d finished on her face. She straightened, meeting their eyes one after the other, a sweet, submissive smile curving her lips. <emily>“My lords,”</emily> she murmured, voice soft and inviting, <emily>“your ale is served. But if you’d like… I can give you even more fun today. More than last night. Somewhere private.”</emily> The scarred one’s grin split wide. <guard1>“You offering yourself up again so soon, little slut? We barely gave you time to recover.”</guard1> The younger one was already half out of his chair. <guard2>“Where?”</guard2> Emily tilted her head toward the shadowed hallway that led past the kitchens. <emily>“The back bathroom. It’s quiet. No one will interrupt.”</emily> She turned without waiting for more words, hips swaying as she walked. Behind her, she heard the scrape of chairs and the low chuckle of the two men following. The rest of the table watched with knowing smirks, but the captain said nothing—only observed. The narrow hallway smelled of old wood and spilled ale. At the end was a small, windowless bathroom used mostly by staff: a single wooden door, a rough basin, a cracked mirror, and a single lantern flickering on the wall. [[To the toilet|TRND1]] <<set $m01_revenge=true>>

<emily-thought>“They’re royal. They can ruin me… or they can pay me. Gold buys time. Gold buys a way out. Revenge can wait—survival can’t.”</emily-thought> She licked her lips, letting a small, submissive smile curve her mouth. <emily>“My lords,”</emily> she murmured, voice low and sweet, <emily>“your ale is served. But if you’d like… I can give you a special service. Somewhere private. Just like last night… only better.”</emily> The scarred one’s grin was slow and cruel. <guard1>“Look at this eager little whore. Already begging for more cock after we painted that pretty face last night.”</guard1> The younger one laughed, crude and loud. <guard2>“Bet her cunt’s still dripping thinking about us. You want it again, slut? Want us to use that mouth like the filthy tavern bitch you are?”</guard2> Emily kept her eyes downcast, cheeks flushing—not entirely from shame. <emily>“Yes, my lords. I can take you both… in the back bathroom. No one will bother us. I’ll make it so good for you.”</emily> The scarred one stood first, belt already loosening. <guard1>“Move, then. Lead the way, cocksleeve. Let’s see how much you can handle before you break.”</guard1> Emily turned and walked down the shadowed hallway, hips swaying deliberately, feeling their eyes burning into her ass. They followed close behind, boots heavy on the wooden floor. <img src="Images/2.0/5.gif"> [[Bathroom|SMND1]]

Emily pushed the door open and stepped inside. The two guards crowded in after her, already loosening belts and laces. She closed the door behind them. The latch clicked. In the dim light she dropped slowly to her knees on the cold stone floor, the short dress riding up her thighs. She looked up at them with wide, innocent eyes. <img src="Images/2.1/2.jpg"> <emily>“Let me make it good for you… just like you deserve.”</emily> The scarred one stepped forward first, freeing himself with a rough tug. Emily leaned in, lips parting, taking him into her mouth with slow, practiced strokes. She worked him deep, tongue swirling, letting him feel every inch of wet heat. <img src="Images/2.1/3.gif"> The younger one waited impatiently, stroking himself while he watched. When the scarred one grew restless, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced himself deeper—deepthroating her in rough, punishing thrusts. Emily gagged, eyes watering, but she didn’t pull away. She let him face-fuck her, spit trailing down her chin, while the younger one groaned at the sight. <img src="Images/2.1/4.gif"> They switched. The younger one took his turn, hands on both sides of her head, using her mouth like a toy. Emily’s jaw ached, throat burned, but she kept going, moaning around him to keep them eager. <img src="Images/2.1/5.gif"> She felt them both swell, breathing ragged, hips jerking—they were close. Now. Her right hand slipped into the hidden pocket of her dress, fingers closing around the small pouch of chili powder she’d tucked there that morning. She pinched a generous amount between thumb and forefinger, the sharp, stinging scent blooming instantly. <img src="Images/2.1/6.avif"> As the scarred one groaned, hips stuttering, on the edge of release— Emily pulled her mouth free for a heartbeat, brought her chili-dusted fingers up, and wrapped them firmly around his throbbing cock. The younger one was already erupting, ropes of cum splattering across her cheek and lipss. The scarred one followed a second later—hot, thick spurts painting her face, dripping down her chin <img src="Images/2.1/7.gif"> ...and then the screaming started. [[Scream]]

Both men howled at once, high and panicked, staggering backward as the burn hit. <guard1>“What the FUCK—?!”</guard1> <guard2>“My cock—gods, it’s burning! What did you do?!”</guard2> Emily stayed on her knees, cum still warm on her face, and let a slow, wicked smile spread across her lips. <img src="Images/2.1/8.jpg"> <emily>“Oh, I’m so sorry, my lords,”</emily> she said sweetly, voice dripping with mock innocence. <emily>“I was helping in the kitchen earlier… touched some very spicy peppers. Must have forgotten to wash my hands.”</emily> She licked a stray drop of cum from her lower lip, eyes sparkling. The two guards scrambled for the door, belts half-done, cocks still out and now bright red and throbbing with agony. They shoved past each other, cursing and whimpering, and bolted down the hallway toward the nearest water barrel. Emily stayed on the floor a moment longer, listening to their frantic footsteps and muffled howls fade into the tavern noise. Then she laughed—quiet, breathless, triumphant. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, stood, smoothed her dress, and walked back out to the main room as if nothing had happened. Old Thom glanced up from behind the bar as she approached, brow furrowed at the sight of her flushed cheeks and the faint gleam still on her skin. <oldman>“Everything all right, lass?”</oldman> Emily gave him a bright, guileless smile. <emily>“Just fine, master Thom. The King’s men needed a little… extra attention. I took care of it.”</emily> She picked up a fresh tray without another word. Inside her chest, the burn of satisfaction was sweeter than any chili. [[Next|ND0M5]]

Emily will be standing on the tavern looking on which table she should serve <et>Who should I serve?</et> [[Old man]] [[A magician]] <<if $m01_shift>=2>> [[End shift]] <</if>>

Inside the small bathroom she latched the door, the dim lantern casting flickering shadows across the rough walls. Without a word she dropped to her knees on the cold stone, the short dress riding up to expose the tops of her thighs. The younger one freed himself first, thick and already leaking. <guard2>“Open wide, you greedy little cumdump. Show us what that mouth’s good for.”</guard2> Emily parted her lips obediently, taking him deep in one slow slide. She moaned around his length, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing as she sucked. He groaned, fingers tangling in her hair. <img src="Images/2.0/6.gif"> <guard2>“Fuck—look at her slobbering on it already. Born to choke on royal cock, aren’t you?”</guard2> She worked him hard, wet and messy, spit trailing down her chin. When he started to thrust into her throat she let him, gagging softly, eyes watering, but never pulling away. <img src="Images/2.0/7.webp"> The scarred one shoved his trousers down next, stroking himself while he watched. <guard1>“Enough. My turn, whore. Get those fat tits out. I want to fuck them while you gag on my balls.”</guard1> Emily pulled her dress down in one rough motion, breasts spilling free—full, soft, nipples already hard from the chill and the degradation. She cupped them together, offering them up like a gift. <img src="Images/2.0/8.webp"> [[Next|SND45D1]]

The scarred one stepped between her knees, sliding his thick shaft into the warm valley of her cleavage. He groaned low as she squeezed her breasts tight around him, rocking her body to stroke him. <img src="Images/2.0/9.gif"> <guard1>“That’s it—milk me with those slutty tits. You love being our cum-rag, don’t you? Say it.”</guard1> <emily>“Yes, my lord… I love being your cum-rag… love being used…”</emily> she whispered, voice hoarse and breathy. He fucked her tits harder, The younger one grabbed her hair again, forcing her mouth back onto him at the same time—double-teaming her in the cramped space, one in her tits, one in her throat. <img src="Images/2.0/10.gif"> They used her roughly, filthy words spilling from their lips. <guard2>“Look at this pathetic tavern slut—dressed like a whore, acting like one. You’re nothing but holes for us to fill.”</guard2> <guard1>“Gonna paint those tits white, bitch. Mark you so every man in this shithole knows what you are.”</guard1> Emily moaned louder, the humiliation burning hot between her legs even as she kept working them—sucking, squeezing, worshipping. The scarred one came first—growling as thick ropes of cum erupted across her breasts, splattering over her nipples and dripping down her stomach. The younger one followed seconds later, pulling out of her mouth at the last moment to add his load to the mess—hot, sticky strands landing across her cleavage, her throat, her chin. <img src="Images/2.0/11.png"> Emily stayed on her knees a long moment, chest heaving, cum cooling on her skin. She scooped the heavy pouch of gold into her hand, feeling the weight of it—real, solid, promising. Then she stood, wiped her face and breasts with a rag from the basin, pulled her dress back into place, and walked out of the bathroom with her head high. She returned to the main room, cheeks still flushed, the faint scent of sex clinging to her. Old Thom glanced up from behind the bar, brow raised at the sight of her. <oldman>“Handled the King’s men, lass?”</oldman> Emily gave him a small, satisfied smile, patting the pouch hidden in her skirt. <emily>“Yes, master Thom. They were… very satisfied. Who’s next?”</emily> She picked up a fresh tray, already scanning the room for the next table. The gold was safe. The guards were pleased. And she was still breathing. For now. [[Next|ND0M5]]

The bathhouse stood at the edge of the noble quarter, its stone facade steaming faintly in the cool afternoon air. Emily approached with the small pouch of gold coins heavy in her skirt—the same pouch the royal guards had tossed at her feet after using her in the tavern bathroom earlier that day. The weight of it felt like both shame and security. Two armored sentries flanked the arched entrance, spears crossed. One, a burly man with a thick mustache, held up a gloved hand. <img src="Images/2.0/18.jpg"> <guard1>“Entry fee, wench. One gold coin. No exceptions—even for pretty ones like you.”</guard1> Emily didn't argue. She fished out the coin, placed it in his palm, and watched him pocket it with a grunt. The spears parted. <guard2>“In you go. Behave yourself. This ain't the common baths.”</guard2> [[Enter bathhouse]]

She stepped inside. Steam curled thick and fragrant with herbs and rose oil. The main chamber was vast, lit by high narrow windows and flickering oil lamps. Marble pools bubbled softly, and around them lounged women from the highest families—noblewomen, ladies-in-waiting, perhaps even minor royals. Their bodies glistened with water and sweat, bare breasts and hips catching the light as they laughed, gossiped, or reclined on cushioned benches. Some glanced at Emily with mild curiosity, noting her simpler dress and outsider air, but no one challenged her. <img src="Images/2.0/19.jpg"> At the far end, two more guards stood before a heavy, iron-bound door set into the wall. Private chamber, clearly. They were arguing in low, heated voices, spears leaning against the stone. <drummer>“I say I go first. Last time you took the princess twice before I even got my breeches down.”</drummer> <flutist>“You whine like a child. She's insatiable—needs both of us to keep her quiet. Besides, the captain said we split the duty fair. You take her mouth this time; I get her cunt.”</flutist> <drummer>“Fine. But if she screams too loud again, you're explaining it to the king.”</drummer> Emily's pulse quickened. Princess? Here? And the way they spoke… casual, crude, possessive. Curiosity burned hotter than the steam. She slipped along the wall, pretending to rinse her feet in a shallow basin, eyes fixed on the door. When the guards turned to gesture at each other, she darted forward—silent, quick—and pushed through the unlocked side entrance just as one laughed. [[Enter the door]]

The private chamber beyond was smaller, warmer, lit by dozens of candles. Silk hangings draped the walls. In the center, a wide marble pool steamed, and on a raised platform of cushions lay a young woman—naked, breathtakingly beautiful, skin pale and flawless, long dark hair fanned out like ink. She looked exactly like Emily. Same face, same body, same curve of hip and swell of breast. But this girl wore the effortless grace of royalty, even as four muscular men—guards or knights in partial armor—surrounded her. They were taking her hard. One thrust into her from behind, hands gripping her waist, while she rode another beneath her, breasts bouncing with each movement. A third knelt before her face, cock sliding deep into her throat as she moaned around it. The fourth waiting his turn, occasionally slapping her ass or pinching her nipples. Cum already glistened on her thighs and stomach—she'd clearly been at this for a while. <img src="Images/2.0/20.gif"> Emily ducked behind a heavy curtain, heart slamming against her ribs, unable to look away. The princess's cries were muffled but eager, body arching in shameless pleasure. [[Next|BNDM01]]

Then rough hands clamped on Emily's arms <drummer>“What the fuck—?”</drummer> They dragged her out into the open. The men paused, cocks still buried in the princess, turning to stare. <img src="Images/2.0/21.gif"> The princess lifted her head, eyes widening as she saw Emily. For a long moment, silence—only the drip of water and heavy breathing. The princess pushed the man in front of her away gently, sitting up, cum dripping from her chin. Her gaze locked on Emily's face, then traveled down her body, shock turning to stunned fascination. <princess>“Wait… leave her. Let her go.”</princess> The guards hesitated, hands still tight on Emily's arms. <princess>“I said leave her! Now.”</princess> They released Emily reluctantly, stepping back with muttered curses. The princess rose gracefully from the cushions, naked and unashamed, walking toward Emily with slow, deliberate steps. The resemblance was uncanny—twins separated by fate, one royal, one lost in time. [[Princess come near her]]

The princess stepped closer, her naked body glistening with sweat and the remnants of her indulgences—thick ropes of cum streaked across her face, dripping slowly from her chin, while more leaked from between her thighs, trailing down her inner legs in shiny rivulets. She moved with unhurried grace, unashamed, the air thick with the musky scent of sex. <img src="Images/2.0/22.jpg"> She stopped inches from Emily, eyes wide with wonder. <princess>“Who are you?”</princess> she whispered, voice husky from her recent cries. Emily swallowed, her back against the warm stone wall, heart racing. <emily>“I… I’m Emily. Just a traveler. I didn’t mean to intrude—”</emily> The princess reached out, fingers trembling slightly as she touched Emily’s cheek—gentle, almost reverent. Her hand was warm, slightly sticky from the mess on her skin. <princess>“Emily…”</princess> she repeated, tracing the line of Emily’s jaw, then her lips. <princess>“You look exactly like me. The same eyes, the same mouth, the same… everything. How is this possible? It’s like staring into a mirror—a living, breathing mirror.”</princess> She paused, a slow smile breaking through the shock, her gaze turning from astonishment to something deeper, hungrier. <princess>“But I’ve always dreamed of this. Always wanted a double… a shadow self.”</princess> Emily blinked, confused, glancing at the four men still lingering on the cushions—cocks softening but eyes watchful. The guards by the door shifted uneasily. <emily>“What do you mean?”</emily> The princess leaned in closer, her breath hot against Emily’s ear, one hand sliding down to rest on Emily’s hip. <princess>“I have fantasies, Emily. Dark ones. I crave sex—endless, filthy sex. To be taken by anyone, anywhere, like a common whore. But as princess, I must remain a virgin in the eyes of the court. Pure. Untouched. So I come here, to this hidden chamber, with these loyal guards who fuck me senseless and keep my secrets. They won’t tell a soul. And neither will you… will you?”</princess> Her voice turned pleading, fingers tightening on Emily’s dress. <emily>“I… no, I won’t say anything,”</emily> promised, mind reeling. [[Next|ND89732]]

The princess’s smile widened, cum still glistening on her lips as she licked them absently. <img src="Images/2.0/23.png"> <princess>“Good. Because I need your help, sister-mirror. We switch places. You become me—the princess, locked away in the castle, playing the part of the chaste royal. And I… I become you. Free to wander the town, fuck the whole damned place if I want. Guards, merchants, blacksmiths—anyone who catches my eye. I can finally live my desires without the crown weighing me down.”</princess> Emily’s eyes widened. <emily>“But… you’re the princess. Everyone will recognize you the moment you step out.”</emily> The princess laughed softly, shaking her head, a fresh drop of cum falling from her chin to land on Emily’s cleavage. <princess>“No one knows my face, Emily. I’ve been kept hidden in the castle all my life—paraded only in veils or from afar. The people have seen the king and queen, but never me clearly. Not like this. It’ll be easy. We’re identical. No one will suspect a thing.”</princess> Emily’s mind raced. The castle. The king’s private chambers. The magic stone in his chest—close enough to touch if she played this right. This could be her ticket in, her way to grab the stone and find Kelly without waiting for the blacksmith’s vague promise. <emily-thought>“It’s risky… but perfect. Pretend to be royalty? Get access to everything? Yes. This is the break I need.”</emily-thought> She nodded slowly. <emily>“All right. I’ll do it. We switch.”</emily> The princess’s face lit up with wicked delight. She pulled Emily into a quick, sticky embrace—bodies pressing close, the mess from her skin transferring slightly to Emily’s dress. <princess>“Wonderful! We’ll make the swap right now, Edward one of the guard will tell you what to do.”</princess> She turned to one of the guards, who handed her a small, ornate cage from the corner. Inside perched a sleek black crow, intelligent eyes gleaming. <princess>“Take this. His name is Shadow. He’s trained to carry messages between us. If you need me—or if trouble comes—send him with a note. He’ll find me, no matter where I am in the town.”</princess> Emily took the cage carefully, the bird tilting its head at her. <emily>“Thank you….”</emily> The princess grinned, already eyeing the door with eager anticipation. <princess>“Oh, Emily… this is going to be delicious.”</princess> [[Princess as protagonist]] [[Emily as protagonist]]

The carriage lurched forward as soon as Emily settled onto the cushioned bench, the heavy door closing with a solid thud behind her. Two royal guards—one on the driver’s seat, the other riding alongside—said nothing. The horses snorted, hooves clacking against the stone road as the vehicle rolled out of the hidden stable behind the bathhouse and onto the main highway toward the castle. She was going to the castle. She was going to be the princess. For three days. The gates opened without challenge. Guards saluted as the carriage passed beneath the portcullis and into the wide inner bailey. Cobblestones rang under the wheels. The vehicle slowed to a stop beside a covered walkway. <img src="Images/2.2/gates.jpg"> The door opened. A young woman—early twenties, auburn hair braided tightly against her scalp, dressed in a crisp gray gown with the royal crest embroidered in silver thread on the breast—stood waiting. Her face was pale with worry, eyes wide and searching. She didn’t bow. She didn’t hesitate. <Mira>“Emily! Come with me—hurry!”</Mira> <e>"What you know about me?</e> <Mira>I will tell you everyhting later, but first come with me, Your mother is waitng for you.</Mira> [[Queen's Solar]]

Princess Seraphina stepped out of the hidden side door of the bathhouse, the cool evening air kissing her flushed skin like a lover's first touch. She had quickly dressed in a simple hooded cloak Emily had lent her—plain wool, nothing like the silks and velvets of royalty—but beneath it, her body still bore the evidence of her final indulgence in the chamber: sticky trails of cum drying between her thighs, faint streaks on her inner wrists where she'd wiped her face. She didn't care. For the first time in her eighteen years, she was free. The heavy door clicked shut behind her. No guards. No handmaidens. No watchful eyes of the court. Just the narrow alley leading to the main street, the distant hum of the town settling into evening. Seraphina pulled the hood low over her dark hair—identical to Emily's—and took her first unescorted step onto the cobblestones of her own kingdom. Her heart raced with giddy, almost dizzy joy. <seraphina-thought>“Gods, this is real. No one knows me. No one bows. No one watches every breath, every blink. I can… do anything.”</seraphina-thought> She paused at the mouth of the alley, gazing out at the bustling streets. Lanterns flickered to life along timber-framed buildings, merchants shuttered their stalls with cheerful shouts, tavern doors swung open spilling laughter and the scent of roasting meat and ale. A group of laborers passed by, laughing loudly, one slapping another's back. A woman in a modest apron hurried home with a basket of bread. Ordinary. Gloriously ordinary. <img src="Images/2.0/town.jpg"> Seraphina's breath caught. This was her kingdom—yet she'd only ever seen it from high castle windows or veiled carriages. Now she walked among them. Anonymous. Hungry. <seraphina-thought>“Where first? Where do I even begin?”</seraphina-thought> [[Blacksmith|BPDM1]] [[Heared muffled groan|BPDBRDM1]] <<set $princess_pro=true>>

Seven men worked the forge: the blacksmith himself—broad-shouldered, sweat-glistening, arms corded with muscle—and six apprentices or journeymen, all stripped to the waist, bodies shining with soot and sweat. They were finishing a massive longsword, quenching it in a hiss of steam, laughing roughly among themselves. One of them spotted her first. <img src="Images/2.0/24.jpg"> <guard1>“Oi, look who’s here. Right on time, lass.”</guard1> The others turned, grins spreading slow and filthy. <guard2>“Work’s done for the day. Sword’s perfect. You ready to give us our reward, then?”</guard2> Seraphina blinked beneath the hood. Reward? She had no idea what they meant, but the hungry edge in their voices sent a delicious shiver straight between her legs. She nodded once—slow, uncertain, but eager. The blacksmith wiped his brow with a thick forearm, frowning. <blacksmith>“What in the seven hells are you lot on about? Reward?”</blacksmith> The first apprentice laughed, jerking his thumb toward Seraphina. <guard1>“Ask her, boss. Or better—let us tell you.”</guard1> He turned to her. <guard1>“Should we tell him, sweet thing? Or keep your little promise a secret?”</guard1> Seraphina hesitated only a heartbeat—then nodded again, cheeks burning beneath the hood, thighs already slick. The men exchanged wicked looks. <guard2>“Emily told us plain as day: if we sweat our arses off for three days straight helping you finish the king’s commission, she’d be back every evening to… please us. All of us. Mouth, tits, cunt—whatever we want.”</guard2> The blacksmith’s eyes widened, then darkened with raw lust as he stared at the hooded figure. <blacksmith>“Is that true, girl?”</blacksmith> Seraphina’s pulse thundered in her ears. This was it—the filthy, common freedom she’d dreamed of. No crowns. No virginity oaths. Just cock. Sweat. Cum. She nodded again, this time with unmistakable enthusiasm. The blacksmith let out a low, rumbling growl. <blacksmith>“Then get that cloak off. I want my share too.”</blacksmith> [[Clothes off]]

Princess Seraphina wandered deeper into the poorer quarter of the town, the streets narrower here, the lanterns fewer and dimmer. The thrill of anonymity still buzzed in her veins, her body still sticky and aching from the forge, but she felt alive—hungry for more. Then she heard it: the dull thud of fists on flesh, a muffled groan, the low snarl of a man’s voice. Around the corner, in a shadowed alley between two leaning buildings, a burly thug had a smaller, ragged man pinned against the wall. The thug’s fist rose again, knuckles already bloodied. Without thinking, Seraphina stepped forward. <img src="Images/2.0/33.jpg"> <seraphina>“Stop!”</seraphina> Her voice rang out sharper than she intended—trained for royal command, not street pleas. The thug froze, fist mid-air, and turned. He was tall, scarred, dressed in patched leather—clearly a moneylender’s enforcer. His eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down. <leader>“Who the fuck are you, girl? This ain’t your business.”</leader> Seraphina pulled back her hood just enough to let her face catch the faint lantern light, chin high. <seraphina>“Why are you beating him?”</seraphina> The thug snorted, jerking the smaller man by the collar. <leader>“This rat owes three silvers. Three days late. Master wants his coin or his teeth. Simple.”</leader> The debtor whimpered, eyes wide with terror. Seraphina’s heart twisted. She was no longer the sheltered princess who watched injustice from a tower. She was here, among them. And this… this was her people. <seraphina-thought>“It’s my duty. My responsibility. Even if they don’t know who I am, I do.”</seraphina-thought> She stepped closer, voice steady. <seraphina>“Let him go. Take me instead.”</seraphina> The thug barked a laugh. <leader>“You? What’re you worth, pretty thing?”</leader> Without another word, Seraphina reached up, unlaced the front of her borrowed shift, and pulled the fabric open. Her full breasts spilled free—pale, perfect, nipples already peaked from the cool night air and the lingering heat of her earlier indulgences. [[Next|NKLPD]]

The tavern buzzed with warmth and laughter as the princess stepped inside, a soft smile resting on her lips. Everything had gone perfectly. The food, the drinks, the freedom—she had enjoyed it all far more than she ever expected. <princess-thought>Swapping bodies with Emily really was the best decision… at least for now.</princess-thought> She stretched slightly, feeling the pleasant ache of a long day settling into her bones. For once, there were no guards hovering, no formal rules to follow, no heavy crown waiting to be worn. Just peace. After a final glance around the tavern, she quietly made her way upstairs, the noise fading behind her as she reached her room. The door closed softly. She kicked off her shoes, loosened her clothes, and sank onto the bed with a content sigh. <princess-thought>I deserve this rest.</princess-thought> <princess-thought>Tomorrow… I’ll think about everything else.</princess-thought> Pulling the covers around herself, the princess closed her eyes, exhaustion finally taking over. Within moments, she drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep—unaware of how much the world outside would soon change. [[Sleep|M02]]

Seraphina’s hands trembled with joy as she threw back the hood and let the cloak fall to the sooty floor. Beneath it she wore only the thin shift Emily had given her—already clinging to her sweat-damp skin. She peeled it off in one smooth motion, letting it drop, standing naked before them: full breasts heaving, nipples tight, pussy glistening in the forge-light. <img src="Images/2.0/28.webp"> She sank gracefully to her knees on the warm stone floor, surrounded by the ring of seven men already unbuckling belts and freeing thick, heavy cocks. <img src="Images/2.0/29.jpg"> <seraphina-thought>“This… this is what I was born for. Not silk beds and polite kisses. Real cocks. Rough hands. Men who smell of iron and smoke and honest work. I’m finally free to be the whore I’ve always wanted to be.”</seraphina-thought> The blacksmith stepped forward first, stroking his thick shaft. <blacksmith>“Open that pretty mouth, slut. Show us what you promised.”</blacksmith> <img src="Images/2.0/30.gif"> The others closed in, cocks in hand, slapping them lightly against her cheeks, her forehead, her tits. <guard1>“Fuck, look at her—sucking like she’s starved for it. Filthy little cocksucker.”</guard1> <guard2>“Spread those lips wider, whore—take us all.”</guard2> Seraphina worked them with desperate skill switching from one to the next, hands stroking two at a time while her mouth devoured another. Spit dripped down her chin, mixing with pre-cum. She gagged happily when the blacksmith grabbed her hair and fucked her throat, tears streaming but eyes shining with bliss. <img src="Images/2.0/31.gif"> [[Next|PBLMS2D1]]

<seraphina-thought>“Yes… yes… use me. Choke me. Cover me. I’m nothing but a set of holes for you to empty into.”</seraphina-thought> The circle tightened. Cocks rubbed against her face, her neck, her shoulders. Hands groped her, pinched her nipples, slapped her ass. <blacksmith>“Gonna paint this pretty face. You want it, don’t you? Say it.”</blacksmith> Seraphina pulled off long enough to gasp, voice hoarse and dripping lust. <seraphina>“Yes… please… cover me… I want every fucking drop…”</seraphina> That broke them. One after another they erupted—thick ropes of cum splashing across her cheeks, her lips, her closed eyes, dripping down her neck and onto her heaving tits. The blacksmith came last, growling as he unloaded straight into her open mouth, forcing her to swallow half before pulling out to finish the rest across her face. <img src="Images/2.0/32.gif"> <seraphina-thought>“Gods… I’ve never felt more alive. Three days. Three nights like this. I could die happy.”</seraphina-thought> The men stepped back, breathing hard, cocks softening, grinning like wolves. <blacksmith>“Tomorrow night, same time. Don’t be late, girl.”</blacksmith> Seraphina licked a stray drop from her swollen lips and smiled—slow, wicked, satisfied. <seraphina>“I wouldn’t dream of it.”</seraphina> She rose on shaky legs, gathered her cloak, and slipped back into the night—cum still warm on her skin, the taste of seven strangers lingering on her tongue. The town was hers now. And she was only getting started. [[Town|TD1]] <<set $m01_princess_black=true>>

Seraphina's breath caught. This was her kingdom—yet she'd only ever seen it from high castle windows or veiled carriages. Now she walked among them. Anonymous. Hungry. <seraphina-thought>“Where should I go”</seraphina-thought> <img src="Images/2.0/town.jpg"> [[Blacksmith|BPDM1]] [[Heared muffled groan|BPDBRDM1]] <<if $m01_princess_black==true && $m01_thief==true>> [[Tavern|TDPD1]] <</if>>

She cupped them, offering them up like payment. <seraphina>“This. Take me. Fuck me. Use me however you want. But leave him alone. The debt is paid.”</seraphina> The thug’s eyes darkened, lust replacing anger in an instant. He shoved the debtor aside roughly. <leader>“Run, rat. And don’t come back.”</leader> The smaller man scrambled away, disappearing into the shadows without a backward glance. The thug turned fully to Seraphina, stepping close enough that she could smell the ale and sweat on him. <leader>“You’re serious.”</leader> She nodded, heart racing, pussy already clenching at the thought. He didn’t waste time. Rough hands grabbed her breasts, squeezing hard, thumbs rolling her nipples until she gasped. Then his mouth descended—hot, wet, sucking one nipple deep while his fingers pinched the other. Seraphina moaned, arching into him, fingers tangling in his rough hair. <img src="Images/2.0/35.gif"> He pulled back just long enough to yank her shift up around her waist, exposing her completely from the hips down. No undergarments—only slick, swollen lips glistening in the dim light. He spun her around, pushed her forward against the rough brick wall, and kicked her legs apart. <leader>“Bend over, slut. You asked for it.”</leader> Seraphina braced her hands on the wall, ass out, back arched. She felt the blunt head of his cock press against her entrance—thick, hot, insistent. <img src="Images/2.0/39.gif"> [[Cock press against her entrance]]

He thrust in hard, one brutal stroke burying him to the hilt. She cried out, the stretch burning deliciously, walls fluttering around him. He fucked her like he owned her—fast, deep, relentless. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the narrow alley. A few late-night passersby paused at the mouth of the alley, staring—two men, a woman with a basket—eyes wide but no one dared intervene. <img src="Images/2.0/37.gif"> The thug didn’t care. He just kept pounding, one hand gripping her hip, the other reaching around to roughly rub her clit. <leader>“Fuck… tight little cunt. You like this, don’t you? Getting railed in an alley like a common whore.”</leader> <seraphina>“Yes… gods, yes…”</seraphina> she gasped, pushing back to meet every thrust. <seraphina-thought>“This is it. Raw. Dirty. No titles. No mercy. Just cock and need.”</seraphina-thought> He sped up, grunting, balls slapping against her. <leader>“Where do you want it, bitch? Tell me.”</leader> Seraphina turned her head, meeting his eyes over her shoulder, voice hoarse with lust. <seraphina>“Inside me. Fill me. I want to feel you spill deep… all of it…”</seraphina> That sent him over. He slammed in one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go, and came with a guttural roar. Hot pulses flooded her, thick and endless, spilling out around his cock as he kept thrusting through it. Seraphina shuddered, her own orgasm crashing over her—walls clenching, milking every drop, legs trembling. When he finally pulled out, a thick trickle of cum leaked down her inner thigh. He slapped her ass once, hard, then stepped back, breathing heavy. <img src="Images/2.0/38.gif"> <leader>“Debt’s paid. For tonight.”</leader> He turned and walked away without another word. Seraphina stayed leaning against the wall for a long moment, panting, cum dripping from her, breasts still exposed, shift bunched around her waist. A few onlookers whispered and hurried off. She smiled—slow, wicked, sated. <seraphina-thought>“One more mark on my skin. One more taste of freedom. And the night’s still young.”</seraphina-thought> She straightened her clothes as best she could, wiped a hand across her thigh, and stepped back into the street—ready for whatever came next. [[Town|TD1]] <<set $m01_thief=true>>

Emily approached the dim corner table where the old man sat alone, just as he had the night before. The tavern was quieter now in the early evening hours, the rowdier crowd yet to arrive. Old Thom—gray beard a little neater today, shoulders less slumped—looked up as she neared, and a genuine, warm smile spread across his weathered face. He looked… lighter. Younger, almost. The sadness that had clung to him yesterday had lifted. Emily set her tray down gently and slid into the chair across from him. <emily>“Good evening, sir,”</emily> she said softly, tilting her head. <emily>“You look much happier today. What changed?”</emily> The old man chuckled, a low, raspy sound filled with quiet joy. His watery blue eyes met hers without shame. <oldman>“You, lass. I’ve been thinking about you since you left last night. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Even dreamed of you—vivid, like I was twenty again. Woke up with a smile and… other things.”</oldman> He glanced down at his lap briefly, then back up, cheeks faintly pink beneath the gray. Emily felt a soft warmth bloom in her chest—something tender mixed with the familiar heat she’d come to expect from these nights. <emily>“I’m glad,”</emily> she murmured. <emily>“Do you want something more today? Anything at all?”</emily> The old man swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. He nodded slowly. <oldman>“Aye… if you’d be willing. Under the table, maybe? Quiet-like. Just… your mouth.”</oldman> [[Emily went under the table]]

Emily balanced the heavy tray of ale on her hip as she moved through the crowded tavern, the short dress riding up her thighs with every step. The place was alive with noise—laughter, clinking tankards, the low strum of a lute in the corner. She was still flushed from her earlier encounters, skin warm, lips swollen, but the night was young and the coins kept coming. In a quieter corner near the hearth sat a lone magician—tall, thin, dressed in dark robes embroidered with silver stars, a pointed hat tilted rakishly. He was performing for a single wide-eyed patron: a burly farmer who looked half-drunk and fully enchanted. The magician held a small, polished wooden ball between his fingers, rolling it deftly. As Emily passed with her tray, the magician’s sharp eyes flicked to her. He smiled—slow, knowing, almost predatory. <leader>“Ah, a fresh face! Lovely lass, care to witness a true wonder? I’ll show you a magic trick unlike any you’ve seen.”</leader> Emily paused, intrigued. She set the tray on a nearby table and stepped closer, wiping her hands on her skirt. <emily>“Sure. Why not? I could use a little wonder tonight.”</emily> [[Magic]]

The magician’s smile widened. He leaned in conspiratorially. <leader>“Excellent. But this particular trick… requires a bit of preparation. For the magic to work properly, I’ll need you to undress. Completely.”</leader> The farmer’s jaw dropped. A few nearby patrons turned their heads, ears perking up. Emily felt the familiar rush—heat pooling low in her belly, the thrill of exposure she’d come to crave in this strange time. She glanced around: the tavern was dim, the crowd half-distracted. No one would stop her. And honestly… she didn’t want them to. She shrugged lightly, as if it were the most natural thing. <emily>“All right. If it’s for the magic.”</emily> Without hesitation, she reached behind her back and unlaced the dress. It slid down her body in a soft whisper, pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it, standing naked in the flickering firelight—breasts full and flushed, nipples tight from the cool air, pussy bare and already glistening slightly from the night’s earlier exertions. <img src="Images/2.0/12.webp"> A low murmur rippled through the nearby tables. Eyes widened. A few men whistled softly. The magician didn’t blink. He simply held up the wooden ball again, offering it to the farmer. <leader>“First, good sir—inspect it. Feel it. Is there anything inside? Any trickery?”</leader> The farmer took the ball, turning it over in his rough hands, tapping it, even trying to pry it open. <img src="Images/2.0/13.gif"> <drummer>“Nah… solid as stone. Nothing in there.”</drummer> The magician nodded, pleased. He took the ball back, held it up between thumb and forefinger for all to see. <leader>“Watch closely now.”</leader> He closed his hand around the ball. A quick flick of his wrist, a murmured word under his breath—and when he opened his palm again, the ball was gone. Vanished. The farmer blinked, confused. <img src="Images/2.0/14.gif"> <drummer>“Where’d it go?”</drummer> [[Next|Dissapeared]]

The magician turned slowly to Emily, eyes gleaming. <leader>“Why don’t you show our friend where it went, my dear?”</leader> <e>"What? Me?"</e> <leader>"Show them your pussy"</leader> Emily’s pulse hammered. A wicked little smile curved her lips. She lay on her back, spreading her legs slightly for balance. Then, with deliberate slowness, she reached down between her thighs, pushed gently. A soft, wet sound—and the small wooden ball slipped free from inside her pussy, tumbling out and landing on the floor with a quiet clack. <img src="Images/2.0/15.webp"> The tavern fell briefly silent, then erupted in gasps, laughter, and scattered applause. The farmer stared, mouth open. <drummer>“Bloody hells…”</drummer> The magician bowed theatrically, retrieving the ball with a flourish. <leader>“A simple sleight of hand… and a most accommodating volunteer. Thank you, sweet Emily.”</leader> Emily laughed breathlessly, still naked, still exposed, the thrill buzzing through her like lightning. <emily>“Anytime.”</emily> She bent slowly to pick up her dress, giving the crowd a full view of her ass and the glistening trail between her legs, then slipped it back on with unhurried grace. As she picked up her tray again, she caught the magician’s eye one last time. He winked. <leader>“Come back later. I’ve got more tricks that require… deeper participation.”</leader> Emily felt the heat flare again between her thighs. <emily-thought>“God, I love this place.”</emily-thought> She turned and walked away, hips swaying, the tavern’s eyes following her every step. [[Next|ND0M5]] <<set $m01_shift+=1>>

Emily’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. She glanced around—the nearest patrons were several tables away, lost in their own conversations. The hearth fire cast long shadows that helped conceal the corner. Without another word, she slipped from her chair and ducked beneath the heavy wooden table. The long tablecloth draped down like a curtain, hiding her completely from view. The old man shifted in his seat, spreading his legs slightly as she settled between them on her knees. She could smell the faint scent of soap and woodsmoke on him—cleaner than most men in the tavern tonight. His trousers were already tented. She reached up, deftly unlaced the front, and freed his cock. It sprang out, thick and veined, already leaking at the tip. Not as hard as a young man’s, but eager, pulsing in her hand. Emily leaned forward and took him into her mouth slowly, reverently. No rush. She swirled her tongue around the head, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum, then slid down inch by inch until her lips met the base. She hummed softly, the vibration making him groan low in his throat. <img src="Images/2.0/16.gif"> <oldman>“Gods, girl… that’s it… just like that…”</oldman> She worked him with care—long, wet strokes, cheeks hollowing as she sucked, one hand gently cupping and massaging his heavy balls. Every so often she pulled back to lick the underside, tracing the thick vein, before plunging down again. The old man’s breathing grew ragged. His hand slipped under the table, fingers threading gently into her hair—not pulling, just resting there, as if anchoring himself to the moment. <oldman>“I dreamed of this… of you… swallowing me whole…”</oldman> Emily moaned around him in response, taking him deeper, throat relaxing to let him slide past the back. She felt him swell, thighs tensing. With a muffled, shuddering groan, he came. Thick pulses flooded her mouth—warm, salty, abundant. She swallowed every drop greedily, milking him with her lips and tongue until he was spent, twitching softly against her tongue. <img src="Images/2.0/17.gif"> When he finally relaxed, she gave the softening head one last gentle kiss, tucked him carefully back into his trousers, and laced them up. She emerged from under the table smoothly, face flushed but composed, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. The old man looked at her like she was a miracle. <oldman>“Thank you, lass… more than you know.”</oldman> Emily leaned in, brushed a soft kiss against his weathered cheek, and whispered: <emily>“Anytime you need me, sir. I’ll be here.”</emily> She picked up her tray, gave him one last warm smile, and walked away—leaving him sitting there, happier than he’d been in years, the taste of her kindness lingering longer than any ale. [[Next|ND0M5]] <<set $m01_shift+=1>>

<<if $m01_revenge==false>> Emily stepped outside, the cool air brushing against her skin as the door closed behind her. The sounds of laughter and clinking mugs faded, replaced by the quiet hum of an unfamiliar town. Stone roads stretched out in every direction. Old lanterns glowed softly, lighting narrow alleys, market stalls, and distant towers frozen in time. [[Bathhouse]] <<else>> Emily stepped outside, the cool air brushing against her skin as the door closed behind her. The sounds of laughter and clinking mugs faded, replaced by the quiet hum of an unfamiliar town. Stone roads stretched out in every direction. Old lanterns glowed softly, lighting narrow alleys, market stalls, and distant towers frozen in time. [[Magistrate Office|m01magistrate]] [[Blacksmith|m01Blacksmith]] [[Brothel|m01Brothel]] [[Tavern|m01Tavern]] <</if>>

<div class="coming-soon"> <div class="coming-title">Coming Soon</div> <div class="coming-text"> This path will be available in <b>Version 2.1</b>. Expected date for release of version 2.1 is 1 Feb </div> </div> <style> .coming-soon { max-width: 500px; margin: 80px auto; padding: 25px; text-align: center; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; background: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.65); border: 2px solid #c9a24d; border-radius: 12px; box-shadow: 0 0 20px rgba(201, 162, 77, 0.4); } .coming-title { font-size: 1.6rem; color: #f2c96d; margin-bottom: 10px; letter-spacing: 1px; } .coming-text { font-size: 1.1rem; color: #eaeaea; } </style>

<h1>Thank you for playing my game!</h1> -If your are playing patreon version then next update may already be available on Patreon, so be sure to check it out. -If you're playing the public version, then updates may already be available on Patreon, so be sure to check it out. "Office Queen" might also have a new version available—don’t miss it! 📣 Join us on Discord to share your suggestions and feedback. 💖 Support the project and get early access on Patreon!

<<if $magistrate_m01==true>> She paused in the empty street, leaning against a rough wall to catch her breath. Cum still leaked slowly down her inner thighs; her lips felt swollen and raw. <img src="Images/2.1/27.jpg"> <emily-thought>“I can barely stand. My throat’s on fire. My cunt feels like it’s been split open by a battering ram. If I go to the forge now… they’ll want the same thing. Seven cocks. Hands, mouths, maybe more. I’ll collapse. Or worse—I’ll faint, and word will spread. The magistrate will hear. He’ll think I’m weak. Kelly stays locked up.”</emily-thought> She closed her eyes, weighing it. [[Go anyway]] [[Skip tonight]] <<else>> <et>I will come here at night, when they have finished their work.</et> [[Leave|End shift]] <</if>>

<<if $kelly_arrested==false>> The brothel was unmistakable: a wide, two-story building with carved wooden roses above the door, red silk curtains glowing behind the windows, and the faint scent of incense and musk drifting out every time the door opened. <img src="Images/2.1/brothel.jpg"> Emily approached the entrance. A tall, stern-faced woman in her forties—dressed in a richly embroidered gown that left little to the imagination—stood just inside, arms crossed, appraising every newcomer. <et>I am having intutions that Kelly is here.</et> [[Ask for work]] [[Explore the brothel]] [[Leave|End shift]] <<else>> The brothel was unmistakable: a wide, two-story building with carved wooden roses above the door, red silk curtains glowing behind the windows, and the faint scent of incense and musk drifting out every time the door opened. <img src="Images/2.1/brothel.jpg"> Emily approached the entrance. A tall, stern-faced woman in her forties—dressed in a richly embroidered gown that left little to the imagination—stood just inside, arms crossed, appraising every newcomer. [[Explore the brothel]] [[Leave|End shift]] <</if>>

<<if $blacksmith_m01 == true>> Emily quietly returns to her small room above the tavern. Her body aches from the long, exhausting day, every muscle heavy and sore. She doesn’t even bother lighting the candle—just slips out of her clothes and collapses onto the narrow bed. The tavern noise fades beneath her, voices and laughter blurring into a dull hum as sleep takes her almost instantly. Tomorrow will bring new problems… but tonight, she has nothing left to give. [[Sleep|DAY 2 MEDEIVA]] <<else>> <et>I shouldn’t go there yet. I still have too many things to take care of first.</et> [[Leave|End shift]] <</if>>

<emily>“Good evening,”</emily> Emily said, keeping her voice soft and deferential. <emily>“I’m looking for work. I’m… good at what men want. Do you have any openings?”</emily> The mistress looked her up and down—taking in the short dress, the faint sheen of sweat still on her skin from the tavern, the way her breasts strained against the fabric. <mistress>“We’re full, girl. I’ve got more than enough girls already—fresh ones, experienced ones, exotic ones. You’re pretty, I’ll give you that, but I don’t need another mouth to feed or another bed to turn. Move along.”</mistress> Emily opened her mouth to argue, but the mistress was already turning away, dismissing her with a flick of her wrist. <emily-thought>“Fine. But I’m not leaving without knowing if Kelly’s here.”</emily-thought> [[Backside of brothel]]

She sees a girl bound with ropes and enjoying gangbang <img src="Images/2.1/9.gif"> [[Leave|m01Brothel]]

She backed away from the door, then slipped down the side alley where the building’s windows sat low enough to peek through. The first window she reached was cracked open, warm light spilling out. Inside, a candlelit room: a curvaceous woman—dark hair, full breasts—lay on her back across a wide bed, legs spread wide. A man knelt between them, face buried in her pussy, tongue working slow and deliberate circles around her clit. The whore’s head was thrown back, fingers tangled in his hair, hips rolling up to meet his mouth. Soft, wet sounds and breathy moans drifted through the crack. <img src="Images/2.1/10.gif"> Emily’s breath caught. Heat pooled low in her belly again—she couldn’t look away. The woman arched, gasping, thighs trembling as the man sucked harder. Then—sharp, panicked screams from the front of the brothel. <kelly> Help!!!! Help me!!</kelly> [[Next|ND345]]

Emily jerked back, heart slamming. She ran around the corner just in time to see the front door burst open. Two royal guards dragged a struggling woman out into the street by her arms. She was naked except for a torn silk wrap clutched to her chest, hair wild, eyes wide with fear. Kelly. <img src="Images/2.1/12.jpg"> <kelly>“Let go of me! I didn’t do anything—get your hands off!”</kelly> The guards didn’t answer. One yanked her forward; the other kept a firm grip on her wrist. Emily rushed toward them without thinking. <emily>“Kelly! Kelly, it’s me—Emily!”</emily> Kelly’s head snapped up. Recognition flashed across her face—relief, terror, desperation all at once. <kelly>“Emily—please, help me! They’re taking me to the prison!”</kelly> Emily reached out, trying to grab Kelly’s free hand. <emily>“Wait—stop! She’s my friend, what’s going on? Let her go!”</emily> The taller guard turned, shoving Emily hard in the chest with his armored palm. She stumbled back, nearly falling, pain blooming across her ribs. <guard>“Back off, wench. This one’s under arrest. King’s business. Interfere again and you’ll join her in the cells.”</guard> The other guard tightened his hold on Kelly, dragging her toward the waiting cart at the end of the street. Kelly twisted, eyes locked on Emily’s. <kelly>“Emily—find out why! Please—don’t let them—”</kelly> Her words cut off as the guards forced her into the cart. The door slammed shut. A whip cracked; the horses lurched forward. The cart rattled away into the night, Kelly’s muffled cries fading with it. Emily stood frozen in the street, chest heaving, the shove still stinging. A few onlookers—patrons from the brothel, passersby—whispered and stared, but no one moved to help. The mistress appeared in the doorway, arms crossed again, expression unreadable. <mistress>“Told you we don’t need trouble here, girl. Now go.”</mistress> [[Town|End shift]] <<set $kelly_arrested=true>>

<<if $kelly_arrested==true>> Emily pushed through the heavy oak doors of the town hall, the magistrate’s office still lit by oil lamps despite the late hour. The chamber was grand for a provincial town—tapestries on the walls, a wide desk piled with parchments, and the faint scent of beeswax and old wine. The lord magistrate sat behind the desk, a stout man in his fifties with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp, calculating eyes. Two guards stood at attention near the door. She stepped forward, heart pounding, voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her. <emily>“My lord magistrate, please—I need your help. My friend Kelly was just arrested by royal guards outside the brothel. They dragged her away like a criminal. What has she done? Why are they taking her?”</emily> The magistrate looked up slowly, expression bored. He set down his quill and leaned back in his chair. <magistrate>“Kelly? The foreign girl from the pleasure house? She’s been arrested. That’s all you need to know. Now leave. This is no concern of yours.”</magistrate> Emily took a step closer, hands clenched at her sides. <emily>“Please, my lord—she’s innocent. At least tell me the charge. I beg you.”</emily> The magistrate’s face hardened. He waved a dismissive hand. <magistrate>“I said leave. Guards—escort her out. Roughly, if necessary.”</magistrate> One of the guards—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a crooked scar across his cheek—moved forward quickly. His hand clamped around Emily’s upper arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He leaned in close, breath hot against her ear. <guard>“Let’s go, tavern slut. You’ve caused enough trouble for one night.”</guard> Emily twisted, trying to pull free. <emily>“Let go of me!”</emily> The magistrate’s head snapped up at the guard’s words. He raised a hand. <magistrate>“Wait. What did you call her?”</magistrate> The guard froze, still gripping Emily’s arm, but his grip loosened slightly. He straightened, glancing between the magistrate and the girl. <guard>“Sir… she’s the new slut from the tavern. The one who’s been… entertaining the soldiers and merchants. Word spreads fast. Everyone knows her.”</guard> The magistrate’s eyes narrowed, then slowly traveled over Emily’s body—taking in the short, revealing dress, the faint marks on her neck from earlier encounters, the way she stood defiant yet flushed. A slow, thoughtful smile curved his lips. <magistrate>“Is that so?”</magistrate> He leaned forward, voice softer now. <magistrate>“Release her. Immediately.”</magistrate> The guard let go at once, stepping back with a muttered apology. <magistrate>“Out. Both of you. Leave us.”</magistrate> [[Guard released Emily]] <<else>> The magistrate slowly lowers his spectacles, his sharp eyes studying Emily from head to toe. <img src="Images/2.1/magistrate.jpg"> <magistrate>What brings you before me, pretty girl?</magistrate> [[Leave|End shift]] <</if>>

The guards exchanged glances but obeyed, retreating and closing the heavy doors behind them with a thud. The room fell quiet, save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. Emily rubbed her arm, wary, watching the magistrate. <magistrate>“You’re a bold one, coming here alone at this hour. And beautiful, too—more than the rumors suggested.”</magistrate> He stood, walking slowly around the desk until he was closer to her. <magistrate>“Your friend Kelly is in the prison tower. Charged with theft and unlawful sorcery—stole an enchanted amulet from a noble client in the brothel. The royal guards were sent because the victim has the king’s ear. She’ll hang if convicted… unless someone persuades me otherwise.”</magistrate> Emily’s breath caught. <emily>“I’ll do anything. Just let her go. Please.”</emily> The magistrate studied her for a long moment, eyes glinting with something darker than pity. <magistrate>“Anything?”</magistrate> He circled her once, gaze lingering on her curves. <magistrate>“My army was nearly wiped out last month by the beasts of the Blackwood—goblins, werewolves, worse. I need information, alliances, weaknesses. I need someone who can get close to dangerous men… and creatures. Someone beautiful enough to seduce them, distract them, extract secrets. You, girl, have the look—and apparently the skills.”</magistrate> He stopped in front of her, voice low. <magistrate>“Complete a few missions for me. Use that body of yours to serve the town. Do it well, and I’ll release your friend. Fail… and she stays in chains. What say you?”</magistrate> Emily swallowed hard. Her mind raced—missions meant danger, humiliation, more nights like the ones she’d already endured. But Kelly was in a cell because of her. She couldn’t leave her there. <emily>“I’ll do it,”</emily> she said quietly. <emily>“Whatever it takes.”</emily> [[Magistrate explained her everything]]

The magistrate leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming as Emily knelt before him, her agreement hanging in the air. He waved a hand dismissively at his lap for now, as if deciding her "proof" could wait. Instead, he steepled his fingers, voice dropping to a grave tone. <magistrate>“Good. You’ll need to listen carefully, girl, because this isn’t some tavern romp. The Blackwood Forest borders our town—dense, cursed, home to beasts that have plagued us for generations called Sinthar, organized packs led by chieftains who thirst for blood and conquest.”</magistrate> He paused, gesturing to a faded map on the wall behind him, marked with jagged lines for the forest’s edge. <magistrate>“Years ago, we struck a deal with their leaders: they stay in the Blackwood, hunting their own, and we keep to the town. No raids, no interference. It held for decades. But recently… one orc scout slipped into the outskirts at night and torched a farmer’s house—burned it to ashes, killed the family inside. No warning, no demands. Just fire and screams.”</magistrate> <img src="Images/2.1/13.jpg"> Emily stayed on her knees, listening intently, the stone floor cool against her skin. <emily>“Why now? What changed?”</emily> The magistrate’s face darkened. <magistrate>“That’s what I need to know. I sent a messenger under a flag of truce to their camps—slaughtered before he could speak. Then I hired bandits, tough mercenaries who know the woods, to scout and parley. They were ambushed and torn apart; only one crawled back half-dead to tell the tale. The monsters are restless, breaking the pact, but why? Hunger? A new leader? Some artifact stirring them up? I need information—why the sudden aggression, and what they want from us. Without it, the town will fall to raids, and the king will blame me.”</magistrate> He leaned forward, eyes locking on hers with intensity. <magistrate>“That’s where you come in. You’re beautiful, clever, and from what I hear, skilled at getting men—and perhaps beasts—to lower their guard. I need you for three days. Three missions. I’ll explain each one tomorrow, one by one, at dawn. You’ll go into the Blackwood, gather what I need, and return. Succeed in all three, and I’ll release your friend Kelly—no questions, no trial. Fail… and she hangs, and you join her.”</magistrate> Emily swallowed hard, mind racing—monsters, danger, seduction in the shadows of the forest. The thought sent a twisted mix of fear and illicit thrill through her core. But Kelly was in chains. She had no choice. <emily>“I… I can do it. For Kelly. I’ll be here at dawn.”</emily> The magistrate studied her for a long moment, then smiled—slow, predatory, satisfied. <magistrate>“Good girl. We’ll begin tomorrow. But tonight…”</magistrate> He spread his legs wider in the chair, the front of his fine breeches already tenting noticeably. His voice dropped to a husky murmur. <magistrate>“Show me you’re ready. Prove you can handle what the Blackwood will demand of you. ”</magistrate> [[Show him that you are ready]]

The magistrate rose from his chair, a slow, deliberate movement that made the room feel smaller. He crossed to a heavy iron door set into the far wall—something Emily hadn’t noticed before—and unlocked it with a large key from his belt. Beyond the door was a narrow stone passage lit by a single torch. <magistrate>“Come.”</magistrate> Emily followed him down the short corridor. At the end was a small, barred cell carved into the rock. Inside, chained to the wall by thick iron manacles around its wrists and ankles, crouched a creature she had never seen in any book or nightmare. It was a Sinthar. Taller than any man, skin the color of midnight oil, corded muscles rippling under leathery hide. Horns curved back from its brow like blackened thorns. Its eyes glowed dull amber in the torchlight. And between its legs—hanging heavy, thick as her forearm even soft—swung a massive black cock, veined and ridged, the head flared like a mushroom the size of her fist. <img src="Images/2.1/14.jpg"> Emily’s breath caught in her throat. She had taken men of every size in the tavern, but this… this was something else entirely. The magistrate watched her reaction with clinical interest. <magistrate>“This is a Sinthar. One of the forest’s lesser horrors. We captured it during a raid last month—thought it might be useful for interrogation. It hasn’t spoken our tongue, but it understands pain… and pleasure.”</magistrate> He turned to her, voice calm. <magistrate>“Your first test begins now. If you can survive this creature without fainting or begging for mercy, I’ll believe you’re capable of the missions ahead. Handle it. Take what it gives. When I return, if you’re still conscious and breathing, we proceed. If not… well, your friend Kelly will have one less advocate.”</magistrate> Emily stared at the Sinthar. Its amber eyes fixed on her, nostrils flaring as it scented her fear and arousal. The cock between its legs twitched, beginning to swell. She swallowed hard, voice trembling but resolute. <emily>“I… yes. I can handle it.”</emily> The magistrate gave a single nod. <magistrate>“We’ll see.”</magistrate> He turned and walked back up the passage. The iron door clanged shut behind him. The lock clicked. Emily was alone with the Sinthar. [[Next|NDF34]]

One clawed hand shot out, faster than she expected. Fabric tore like paper. Her dress ripped from neck to hem in a single motion, cool air hitting her bare skin. The Sinthar’s other hand grabbed the remnants and yanked, stripping her completely naked in seconds. Her breasts bounced free; her thighs trembled. She dropped to her knees instinctively, heart hammering so loud she could barely hear the creature’s breathing. The Sinthar stepped forward again. Its cock loomed in front of her face—hot, musky, impossibly thick. She opened her mouth wide, wider than she ever had, and took the head inside. <img src="Images/2.1/15.gif"> The cock rammed past her tongue, hitting the back of her throat in one brutal thrust. Emily gagged instantly, eyes watering, hands flying up to push against its muscled thighs. But the creature didn’t stop. It grabbed the back of her head with both clawed hands—careful not to slice her, but firm—and began to face-fuck her in earnest. <img src="Images/2.1/16.gif"> [[Next|NKLKO]]

The Sinthar’s claws tightened in Emily’s hair, holding her head steady as it fucked her face with relentless, brutal rhythm. Five full minutes passed—each second an eternity of stretching, choking pressur <img src="Images/2.1/18.gif"> Before Emily could gasp for air, the creature seized her by the waist, lifted her like she weighed nothing, and threw her onto her back on the cold stone floor. The impact knocked the wind out of her. She barely had time to spread her legs before the Sinthar was on her—knees forcing her thighs wider, one clawed hand pinning both her wrists above her head. The head of its enormous cock pressed against her entrance—hot, slick, impossibly wide. Emily’s eyes widened in panic. <img src="Images/2.1/19.gif"> <emily-thought>“It’s too big… it won’t—”</emily-thought> It thrust. The stretch was blinding. She cried out, back arching off the floor as inch after thick, ridged inch forced its way inside her. Her pussy walls clenched desperately around the invasion, burning and aching, but the creature didn’t pause. It buried itself to the hilt in one long, merciless push, the flared head kissing her cervix. <img src="Images/2.1/20.gif"> [[Then it began to fuck her.]]

<img src="Images/2.1/21.gif"> Forty minutes. No mercy. No breaks. The Sinthar rutted into her like a machine—deep, punishing strokes that made her breasts bounce wildly, that slapped wetly against her ass with every thrust. <img src="Images/2.1/22.gif"> Her cries turned to hoarse whimpers, then to broken moans as her body adjusted, as pain blurred into overwhelming, shameful pleasure. Her legs wrapped instinctively around its waist; her hips rose to meet each brutal plunge. Cum and slick leaked out around the massive shaft, pooling beneath her on the stone. She came twice—once screaming, once silently, body convulsing so hard she thought she might black out. But she clung to consciousness, nails digging into the creature’s arms, refusing to faint. <img src="Images/2.1/24.jpg"> The magistrate stepped in, torchlight casting long shadows across his face. He watched for a moment—the Sinthar still pounding into Emily, her body slick with sweat and fluids, legs trembling around the beast’s waist. <magistrate>“Enough.”</magistrate> The Sinthar snarled but obeyed, yanking free with a wet pop. Emily’s pussy gaped for a heartbeat, red and swollen, before the creature fisted its cock and roared. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted across her body—splashing over her breasts, her stomach, her face, her thighs. Strand after strand painted her skin until she glistened like she’d been glazed. The sheer volume left her dripping, pools of it collecting in the hollows of her collarbone and navel. <img src="Images/2.1/26.jpg"> The Sinthar stepped back, breathing heavily, cock still twitching. Emily lay sprawled on the floor, chest heaving, limbs limp, utterly exhausted. Her eyes were half-lidded, body trembling with aftershocks, every muscle screaming. Cum cooled slowly on her skin; her throat and pussy throbbed with raw ache. The magistrate approached, crouching beside her. He studied her face—flushed, tear-streaked, defiant. <magistrate>“You didn’t faint. You didn’t beg. You took it all.”</magistrate> He reached out, brushing a strand of cum-matted hair from her cheek with surprising gentleness. <magistrate>“You’ve proven yourself, girl. Rest tonight. Come back at dawn—alone. The first mission begins then. We’ll speak of it when you arrive. Until then… clean yourself up. You’ll need your strength.”</magistrate> He stood, gave the chained Sinthar one last glance, then walked out. The door clanged shut behind him. Emily remained on the floor for long minutes, breathing shallowly, body spent but unbroken. She had survived the test. Tomorrow, the real trials would begin. [[Leave|End shift]] <<set $magistrate_m01=true>>

She couldn’t afford to break trust—not when she might need the blacksmith’s help later, not when word of her reliability could spread and open doors. Or maybe she was just too stubborn. Or too broken to care anymore. The forge came into view. The fire had died down to glowing embers, but orange light still leaked through the open front. Seven shadows moved inside—waiting. She stepped into the heat. The six apprentices and the blacksmith turned as one. Their eyes lit up like wolves scenting blood. They’d been waiting, cocks already half-hard in their trousers, shirts discarded, bodies gleaming with the day’s sweat and soot. <apprentice1>“Fuckin’ finally. Thought you’d ghost us, slut.”</apprentice1> <blacksmith>“Strip. Now. We’ve been hard all day thinking about that mouth.They alrwdy told me that you are going to treat them so me too now”</blacksmith> They didn’t wait for her to answer. Hands were already on belts, laces yanked open, thick cocks springing free—some veined and heavy, some curved, all eager and dripping pre-cum. The air filled with the musky scent of aroused men. Emily’s knees hit the warm stone floor before she even realized she’d moved. Seven cocks surrounded her face in a tight circle—hot, throbbing, slapping lightly against her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. <img src="Images/2.1/28.jpg"> [[Suck seven cocks]]

<emily-thought>“I can’t. Not tonight. If I go in there now, they’ll fuck my face, my tits, maybe my ass. Seven of them. I’ll pass out mid-blowjob. They’ll laugh, or worse—they’ll keep going. Word will spread that ‘Emily’ couldn’t handle it. The blacksmith might turn on me. The magistrate will hear I’m unreliable. Kelly stays in chains. And tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll be useless for whatever he sends me into the Blackwood.”</emily-thought> She turned away from the forge. She limped the rest of the way to the tavern. The common room was nearly empty; only a drunk snoring in the corner and the barkeep wiping down the bar. He glanced up as she entered, saw the state of her—disheveled hair, cloak barely covering the mess on her skin, eyes hollow—and wisely said nothing. Just nodded toward the narrow stairs. Emily climbed them one painful step at a time, clinging to the rail. Her rented room was tiny: a straw mattress on the floor, a single blanket, a cracked basin of cold water in the corner. She didn’t bother lighting a candle. She dropped the cloak, not caring that cum flaked off her skin onto the floorboards. Naked, shivering, she crawled onto the mattress and pulled the thin blanket over herself. The straw prickled against her abused body, but she barely felt it. Her eyes closed the moment her head hit the rough pillow. [[Sleep|DAY 2 MEDEIVA]]

<apprentice2>“Open wide, tavern whore. You promised us a proper reward.”</apprentice2> <apprentice3>“Look at her—already drooling for it. Bet she’s been fucked raw somewhere else tonight and still came back for more.”</apprentice3> She parted her lips. The first cock—thick,pushed in. She took it deep, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling despite the ache in her jaw. Spit ran down her chin almost immediately. <img src="Images/2.1/29.gif"> They didn’t let her stay on one for long. Hands grabbed her hair, turned her head, fed her the next. One after another. Seven mouths to service. Seven shafts to worship. <img src="Images/2.1/30.gif"> <apprentice4>“Suck harder, bitch. Use that throat like you mean it.”</apprentice4> <blacksmith>“That’s it—gag on it. Let us hear how much you love cock.”</blacksmith> [[Next|0kma]] <<set $blacksmith_m01=true>>

She moved mechanically, exhausted but relentless—sucking, licking, stroking two at a time with trembling hands. Spit bubbled from her lips, dripped onto her tits, mixed with the dried cum still clinging to her skin from earlier. Her eyes watered; her throat burned fresh with every deep thrust. <img src="Images/2.1/31.gif"> They talked filthy the whole time. <apprentice5>“Look at this cum-dump. Face already painted once tonight, and she’s still begging for more.”</apprentice5> <apprentice6>“Bet her cunt’s leaking just from sucking us. Spread those legs, whore—let us see.”</apprentice6> She obeyed without thinking, thighs parting. Cool air hit her swollen, abused pussy. A few of them laughed. <img src="Images/2.1/32.gif"> <blacksmith>“She’s dripping. Fucking slut can’t get enough.”</blacksmith> They sped up—thrusting into her mouth in turns, hands jerking themselves when she couldn’t keep up. Her jaw screamed; her knees ached against the stone. But she kept going. One by one they broke. The first apprentice groaned, pulled out, and shot thick ropes across her cheek and nose. <apprentice1>“Take it, you filthy bitch—wear it.”</apprentice1> The second followed, painting her forehead and lips. <apprentice2>“Open—swallow what lands in your mouth.”</apprentice2> She did. Hot, bitter spurts coated her tongue. She swallowed what she could; the rest dripped down her chin. The blacksmith went last—grabbing her hair, forcing her deep one final time, then pulling out to unload across her face and tits. Thick, heavy blasts that added fresh layers to the mess already there. <img src="Images/2.1/34.gif"> When the last shudder faded, Emily knelt in the center of the circle, drenched, trembling, barely able to keep her eyes open. Cum dripped from her eyelashes, ran in rivulets down her neck, pooled between her breasts. Her body felt like lead. <img src="Images/2.1/33.gif"> The men stepped back, breathing hard, cocks softening, grinning. <blacksmith>“Good girl. Same time tomorrow. Don’t be late.”</blacksmith> Emily didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She pushed herself up on shaking arms, gathered the torn remnants of her cloak, and staggered toward the door. The night air hit her like a slap. She made it three streets before her legs gave out. She collapsed against a wall in a shadowed alley, slid down to sit in the dirt, head back, eyes closed. Super exhausted didn’t cover it. [[Leave|End shift]]

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Emily stepped through the open double doors into the queen’s solar. Sunlight poured through tall arched windows, glinting off crystal vases filled with white roses and turning the silk cushions on the low benches into pools of pale gold. The air smelled of lavender and hot wax from the beeswax candles burning in silver sconces. Queen Elowen stood near the far window, back straight, hands clasped behind her. She wore a gown of deep sapphire velvet, the silver crown of the realm resting lightly on her dark hair. When she turned, her face was a mask of controlled displeasure—eyes sharp, lips pressed into a thin line. <queen>“Seraphina.”</queen> The single word carried weight. Emily felt it settle on her shoulders like a mantle she didn’t know how to wear. She dipped into a careful curtsy—low enough to be respectful, not so deep as to look rehearsed. Seraphina had drilled the motion into her during their frantic swap: chin down, eyes lowered, rise slowly. <emily>“Mother.”</emily> Queen Elowen crossed the room in measured steps, stopping just close enough that Emily could smell the faint rosewater on her skin. <queen>“You return at last. I was beginning to wonder if your ‘retreat’ had become permanent.”</queen> There was no warmth in the words—only expectation. Emily kept her voice soft, eyes downcast. <emily>“I’m sorry for worrying you. The journey back was… longer than expected.”</emily> The queen studied her for a long moment, gaze traveling over Emily’s face, her gown, the faint flush still on her cheeks from the ride and everything that had come before it. <queen>“You look different. Flushed. Tired. We will speak of that later.”</queen> She turned toward a small writing desk, picking up a sealed parchment. <queen>“Prince Valerian has sent word. You have to visit Valeria today and stay there for some days..”</queen> Emily’s heart stuttered. She lifted her eyes. <emily>“What… now?”</emily> <queen>“Yes, now.”</queen> The queen’s tone brooked no argument. <queen>“You are to be queen there one day. You should see how things work—how the court moves, how Valerian’s people behave, how the palace is run. You will travel light, observe, learn. I have already packed your bags. The royal carriage is being prepared as we speak.”</queen> <queen>“Mira! The servants are waiting in the bathing chamber. Seraphina needs the royal bath immediately. Make sure she is scrubbed, perfumed, and dressed in the traveling gown—the green velvet with the silver embroidery. No delays.”</queen> Mira appeared in the doorway as if summoned by magic, bowing low. <servant>“Yes, Your Majesty. This way, Princess.”</servant> [[Royal Bath]]

The bathing chamber was smaller than Emily expected—intimate, almost secretive. Steam rose from a sunken marble pool in the center, scented with rose oil and something sharper, like crushed mint. Four young servants waited along the edge, heads bowed, hands folded. Towels, vials of oil, and soft brushes lay on low tables nearby. <img src="Images/2.2/bath.jpg"> Mira closed the door behind them with a quiet click. <servant>“Leave us for a moment,”</servant> Mira told the others. <servant>“Prepare the oils and the traveling gown. I’ll call when she’s ready.”</servant> The servants slipped out through a side archway, leaving only the soft lap of water and the crackle of the brazier. Mira turned to Emily, expression softening from urgent to conspiratorial. <servant>“Seraphina told me everything.”</servant> Emily’s stomach dropped. <servant>“She sent me letter just after that Bathhouse scenet.”</servant> Emily exhaled shakily, shoulders sagging. <emily>“Thank the gods. I thought… I thought I’d have to guess everything.”</emily> Mira stepped closer, fingers already working the laces at the back of Emily’s gown. <servant>“We don’t have much time. Your mother wants you bathed and dressed in the traveling green velvet within the hour. The carriage for Valeria leaves at noon.”</servant> The gown loosened. Mira tugged gently; the silk slid down Emily’s shoulders, pooling at her elbows, then her waist. <servant>“Your marriage is fixed with Prince Valerian. That’s why you’re being sent to his kingdom now. You’re to observe the court, learn their ways, be presented as his future queen. The betrothal rites here can wait a few days—this trip is more important.”</servant> Emily stepped out of the gown as it fell to the floor, standing in nothing but thin silk smallclothes. Mira’s hands were efficient, unhooking the final ties, sliding the undergarments down her hips until she was bare. <servant>“In our culture, the princess must remain a virgin until the wedding night. The kingdom’s honor depends on it. The people, the nobles, the church—they all expect purity. If word ever got out that Seraphina—or you, playing her—had… given herself away…”</servant> Mira paused, voice dropping to a whisper as she guided Emily toward the steaming pool. <servant>“The kingdom could fall. Alliances would break. The king’s rule would be questioned. Scandals like that have toppled dynasties before.”</servant> Emily stepped into the warm water. It lapped at her calves, then her thighs, soothing the raw ache between her legs from the night before. Mira followed her in, still clothed but unconcerned, rolling up her sleeves. <servant>“I hope you are not a virgin. And I hope Seraphina isn’t either. Because if you were… this charade would be impossible. But it must never be revealed. Not to the queen, not to Valerian, not to anyone.”</servant> <servant>“When you reach Valeria, just do whatever Prince Valerian says. Let him think you’re innocent. Let him believe he’s the first. If he wants to touch you, moan like it’s new. If he wants more… give it to him. But never let him know you’ve already been used. Never let him suspect you’re not Seraphina.”</servant> A servant’s sponge moved between Emily’s thighs, parting her folds gently, cleaning the lingering stickiness from the night before. Emily’s breath hitched. <emily>“I understand. I’ll… I’ll play the part.”</emily> Mira smiled—small, worried, but determined. <servant>“Good. Now let them finish. We have less than an hour before the carriage leaves. And Emily…”</servant> She leaned in even closer, lips brushing Emily’s ear. <servant>“Seraphina said you’re good at this. Use it. Survive. And when you come back… bring her something from Valeria. She’ll want to hear every filthy detail.”</servant> [[Carriage]]

The carriage rolled steadily along the wide royal highway, wheels humming over packed earth and occasional stretches of smooth stone. Emily sat alone on the velvet bench, the emerald traveling gown now replaced with a lighter, more practical riding dress of deep green wool—still cut low enough to hint at her curves, but modest by royal standards. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting slanted sunlight stripe the interior. Outside, the landscape shifted from castle hills to rolling farmland, distant forests smudging the horizon. <img src="Images/2.2/carriage.jpg"> She stared at her hands in her lap, fingers twisting the fabric. Valeria was hours away—maybe a full day’s ride. Prince Valerian. A foreign court. A betrothal she had to fake convincingly. And somewhere in her mind, the ticking clock: three days to find a way back, steal the stone, free Kelly. The weight pressed harder than the corset beneath her gown. A soft knock sounded on the inner partition. The small sliding door opened a crack. A servant girl—young, no more than sixteen, in the plain gray livery of the royal household—peeked in, cheeks pink from the wind. <servant>“Your Highness? We’re well on the road now. Would you like your regular routine?”</servant> Emily blinked, mind blank. <emily>“My… regular routine?”</emily> The girl nodded eagerly, as if it were the most normal question in the world. <servant>“Yes, ma’am. The one you always ask for on long journeys. To help you… relax.”</servant> Emily’s stomach twisted. Seraphina hadn’t mentioned anything about routines. She had no idea what this meant—massage? Tea? Something far more intimate? She swallowed, trying to sound casual. <emily>“Yes. Yes, of course.”</emily> The servant’s eyes brightened. <servant>“Wonderful. Dark or light, Your Highness?”</servant> Emily stared. Dark or light? Wine? Oil? Rope? Panic flickered behind her eyes. She had to pick something. Anything to keep the charade going. [[Black]] [[White]]

<emily>“Black.”</emily> The servant nodded without hesitation, as if it were the expected answer. The carriage continued its steady rhythm along the highway, the low rumble of wheels and the occasional clop of hooves the only sounds breaking the quiet. Emily sat frozen on the bench, staring at the open lacquered box and the smooth obsidian phallus gleaming inside it. Black. She had chosen black. The partition slid open again. But it wasn’t the young servant girl who stepped through. A man entered—tall, broad-shouldered, skin the deep color of polished ebony, muscles carved from years of labor or training. He wore only loose black trousers and a thin linen shirt, both already half-unbuttoned. His eyes—dark, knowing—locked on Emily the moment he ducked inside and pulled the partition shut behind him. He didn’t speak. He simply reached down, gripped the hem of his shirt, and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. The fabric hit the floor. Then his hands moved to the drawstring of his trousers. Emily’s breath caught. He pushed them down. Thick thighs flexed as the cloth pooled at his ankles. His cock sprang free—heavy, long, already half-hard, veins prominent along the dark shaft, the head flushed a deeper plum. It swayed with his next step toward her. <img src="Images/2.2/1.gif"> Emily’s mind raced. Seraphina’s “regular routine.” Black. The servant hadn’t questioned it. This wasn’t a mistake. This was the princess’s secret lust—her private indulgence on long journeys. A man kept for this exact purpose. Strong. Silent. Black. The realization hit her like heat between her legs. <emily-thought>“She’s been doing this the whole time. Hiding it behind the crown. And now… I’m her.”</emily-thought> The man reached her in two strides. One large hand closed around her wrist—firm, not cruel—and pulled her up from the bench. Emily stumbled forward, heart slamming. He spun her, pushed her down onto the narrow padded bed built into the carriage wall. The velvet cushions gave under her back. He climbed over her without preamble. Hands shoved her skirts up to her waist. No undergarments—Seraphina’s preference, apparently. He spread her thighs wide with his knees, positioned himself between them. The thick head of his cock nudged her entrance—hot, blunt, insistent. <img src="Images/2.2/2.gif"> Emily gasped. He thrust. <img src="Images/2.2/3.gif"> Emily moaned—low, broken, unable to stay silent. The sound echoed in the small space. He fucked her like he owned her. Minutes blurred. Sweat slicked their skin. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper. Pleasure coiled tight in her belly—sharp, filthy, unstoppable. He sped up—hips snapping, balls slapping against her. His breathing grew ragged against her ear. Then he pulled out. Rose onto his knees. Fisted his cock. Thick ropes of cum erupted across her face—hot, heavy spurts landing on her cheeks, her lips, her closed eyelids, dripping down her chin and onto her exposed breasts. Strand after strand painted her until she glistened, marked, claimed. <img src="Images/2.2/4.gif"> He stayed there a moment, breathing hard, cock twitching in his hand. Then he simply stood, pulled his trousers back up, gave her one last long look—and slipped out through the partition without a word. [[Valencia]]

<emily>“White.”</emily> The servant nodded without hesitation, as if it were the expected answer. The carriage continued its steady rhythm along the highway, the low rumble of wheels and the occasional clop of hooves the only sounds breaking the quiet. Emily sat frozen on the bench, staring at the open lacquered box and the smooth obsidian phallus gleaming inside it. Black. She had chosen black. The partition slid open again. But it wasn’t the young servant girl who stepped through. A man entered—tall, broad-shouldered, skin pale as fresh marble, muscles carved and defined like a statue brought to life. He wore only loose white trousers and a thin linen shirt, both already half-unbuttoned. His eyes—ice-blue, intense—locked on Emily the moment he ducked inside and pulled the partition shut behind him. He didn’t speak. He simply reached down, gripped the hem of his shirt, and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. The fabric hit the floor. Then his hands moved to the drawstring of his trousers. Emily’s breath caught. He pushed them down. Thick thighs flexed as the cloth pooled at his ankles. His cock sprang free—heavy, long, already half-hard, veins prominent along the pale shaft, the head flushed a deep pink. It swayed with his next step toward her. <img src="Images/2.2/5.gif"> Emily’s mind raced. Seraphina’s “regular routine.” Light. The servant hadn’t questioned it. This wasn’t a mistake. This was the princess’s secret indulgence on long journeys. A man kept for this exact purpose. Strong. Silent. White. The realization hit her like heat between her legs. <emily-thought>“She’s been doing this the whole time. Hiding it behind the crown. And now… I’m her.”</emily-thought> The man reached her in two strides. One large hand closed around her wrist—firm, not cruel—and pulled her up from the bench. Emily stumbled forward, heart slamming. He spun her around, pushed her down onto all fours on the narrow padded bed built into the carriage wall. The velvet cushions sank under her palms and knees. He dropped behind her. Hands shoved her skirts up to her waist. No undergarments—Seraphina’s preference, apparently. He spread her thighs wide with his knees, positioned himself at her entrance. The thick head of his cock nudged her—hot, blunt, insistent. Emily gasped. He thrust. <img src="Images/2.2/6.gif"> The stretch was immediate and overwhelming—wide, hot, filling her completely in one long, steady push. Emily’s back arched, fingers digging into the velvet. Her walls fluttered around him, still tender from the night before but greedy now. He began to fuck her in doggy style. <img src="Images/2.2/7.gif"> Hard. Deep. Relentless. Each thrust rocked the carriage, matching the motion of the road. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh, pulling her back onto him with every slam. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the small space. Emily’s breasts bounced beneath her, nipples grazing the cushions with every forward jolt. She moaned—low, broken, unable to stay silent. The sound echoed in the confined interior. He fucked her like he owned her. Minutes blurred. Sweat slicked their skin. Her arms trembled; her knees ached against the rocking bed. Pleasure coiled tight in her belly—sharp, filthy, unstoppable. He sped up—hips snapping, balls slapping against her clit. His breathing grew ragged behind her. Then he pulled out. Rose onto his knees. Fisted his cock. Thick ropes of cum erupted across her face—hot, heavy spurts landing on her cheeks, her lips, her closed eyelids, dripping down her chin and onto her exposed breasts. Strand after strand painted her until she glistened, marked, claimed. <img src="Images/2.2/8.gif"> He stayed there a moment, breathing hard, cock twitching in his hand. Then he simply stood, pulled his trousers back up, gave her one last long look—and slipped out through the partition without a word. [[Valencia]]

The carriage finally slowed to a halt at the grand gates of Valeria’s royal palace. The journey had stretched through the afternoon and into early evening—hours of rocking motion, the scent of leather and road dust, and the lingering warmth between Emily’s thighs from the white man’s rough doggy-style fucking in the confined space. Her face still felt faintly sticky despite the hurried wipe she’d given herself with a silk handkerchief; her body ached in places she couldn’t show. She stepped down carefully, legs unsteady. The air here was cooler, scented with pine and distant sea salt. Towering white stone walls rose before her, topped with banners of crimson and gold fluttering in the breeze. Torches already flickered along the battlements, casting long shadows across the wide courtyard. And there he stood—Prince Valerian. Tall, golden-haired, dressed in a fitted black doublet edged with silver thread, a crimson cloak draped over one shoulder. His features were sharp and handsome—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, eyes the color of winter sky. He looked every inch the future king: confident, regal, and quietly predatory. As Emily approached, flanked by her two silent royal guards, Valerian stepped forward. He took her hand gently—gloved fingers warm through the thin silk of her glove—and raised it to his lips. <valerian>“Princess Seraphina. Welcome to Valeria.”</valerian> His kiss lingered a fraction longer than protocol demanded, lips brushing her knuckles with deliberate care. Emily felt heat crawl up her neck. She dipped into a shallow curtsy, keeping her eyes lowered as Seraphina had taught her. <emily>“Prince Valerian. Thank you for your welcome.”</emily> He straightened, still holding her hand, and his gaze swept over her face—slow, appreciative. Then he paused. <img src="Images/2.2/9.jpg"> His thumb brushed the underside of her chin, tilting her head slightly upward. A small white mark—dried, flaky—clung just below her lower lip. Cum. From the carriage. She’d missed it in the dim light. Valerian’s brow arched, a faint, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. <valerian>“A mark on your chin, Your Highness. Some… cream from your journey, perhaps?”</valerian> Emily’s heart slammed against her ribs. Panic flared hot and bright behind her eyes. She forced a small, breathless laugh—soft, innocent, practiced. <emily>“Oh… yes. It must be from the honey cakes the servants brought earlier. I’m so clumsy sometimes.”</emily> Valerian studied her for a heartbeat longer—eyes narrowing just enough to make her stomach twist—then he chuckled low in his throat. <valerian>“Of course. Honey cakes.”</valerian> He lifted his own gloved hand, thumb gently wiping the dried spot away with a slow, deliberate stroke. His touch lingered, thumb resting briefly against her lower lip before he withdrew. <valerian>“There. Perfect again.”</valerian> He offered his arm. <valerian>“Come. Let me show you to the castle. Your chambers are prepared, and dinner awaits. We have much to discuss… and much to discover about one another.”</valerian> Emily slipped her hand onto his forearm, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fine fabric. She walked beside him through the gates, head high, smile demure. [[Castle]]

The grand hall of Valeria’s palace fell silent as King Eldric rose from his throne of carved ivory and crimson velvet. His silver-streaked beard caught the torchlight, and his voice carried the weight of centuries of royal tradition. <king>“Seraphina of the Silver Stag. Valerian, my son. Step forward.”</king> Emily (as Seraphina) and Prince Valerian moved together to the center of the marble floor. She kept her eyes modestly lowered, heart hammering beneath the borrowed emerald gown. Valerian stood tall beside her, hand resting lightly on the small of her back—possessive, protective, and just a little too warm. The king descended the dais steps, cloak trailing behind him like spilled wine. <king>“In Valeria, we do not bind two souls in marriage on words alone. Before the betrothal can be sealed, the prince and princess must prove that their love is unbreakable—that they can stand as one, face any trial, and rule this kingdom together with wisdom, courage, and trust.”</king> He paused, letting the words settle over the assembled courtiers and guards. <king>“There is an ancient custom, older than this palace. The Trial of the Three Relics. Three sacred objects, scattered across our lands, each guarded by trials of body, mind, and spirit. You will retrieve them together—side by side—within the next three days. Return all three to this hall by sunset on the third day, and the betrothal will be blessed. Fail… and the union will be reconsidered. The kingdom cannot afford a weak alliance.”</king> Valerian’s jaw tightened, but he inclined his head. <valerian>“We accept, Father.”</valerian> Emily felt the prince’s fingers flex against her back—reassurance, or perhaps a warning. The king’s gaze shifted to her. <king>“The first relic: the Crystal of the Eastern Springs, hidden in the sacred hot springs near the border. It tests endurance and purity of purpose.”</king> <img src="Images/2.2/10.jpg"> He gestured to a servant, who stepped forward with a small scroll sealed in crimson wax. <king>“The second: the Blade of the Northern Cliffs, lost in the ruins of the old fortress atop Blackfang Peak. It tests courage and resolve.”</king> Another scroll. <king>“The third: the Orb of the Southern Woods, guarded within the ancient grove of Whispering Oaks. It tests trust and unity.”</king> <img src="Images/2.2/11.jpg"> The final scroll. <king>“You will depart at first light tomorrow. A small retinue of guards will accompany you—for protection, not assistance. The trials must be faced by the two of you alone. Prove you can endure together, and Valeria will welcome its future queen. Fail… and the crown will seek another path.”</king> He returned to his throne, the scrolls placed in Emily’s trembling hands. <king>“Rest tonight. Prepare yourselves. The road ahead will reveal what kind of rulers you will be.”</king> The courtiers bowed as the king swept from the hall. Valerian turned to Emily, his expression unreadable—half pride, half something darker. <valerian>“Three days. Three relics. Just you and me.”</valerian> He leaned in close, voice dropping to a murmur only she could hear. <valerian>“I look forward to seeing what you’re truly made of… Seraphina.”</valerian> His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth—right where the dried mark had been earlier—before he offered his arm. [[Next|NDSFR]]

Prince Valerian led Emily through the winding corridors of the palace, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back. The touch was polite, almost formal, but she could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her gown. Guards and servants bowed as they passed, eyes averted, until they reached a heavy set of double doors carved with intertwining vines and golden lions. Valerian pushed them open. His private chambers were vast and dimly lit by low braziers and a single tall window overlooking the moonlit gardens. A massive four-poster bed dominated one wall, draped in crimson velvet and furs. A fire crackled in the hearth. A low table held a decanter of dark wine and two goblets. He closed the doors behind them with a soft click. <valerian>“We have the night to ourselves,”</valerian> he said quietly, voice low and warm. <valerian>“Tomorrow will be… demanding. The Trial of the Three Relics is no gentle journey. I wanted us to speak first. Alone.”</valerian> Emily nodded, stepping farther into the room. She kept her movements graceful, measured—every inch the princess she was pretending to be. <emily>“Tell me about tomorrow. The relics… what do we face?”</emily> Valerian poured wine into both goblets and handed her one. Their fingers brushed. He didn’t immediately release. <valerian>“The Crystal of the Eastern Springs is in a hidden grotto fed by geothermal waters. The path is narrow, the heat intense. It tests endurance—how long we can bear discomfort together without breaking.”</valerian> He took a sip, eyes never leaving her face. <valerian>“The Blade of the Northern Cliffs is in the ruins atop Blackfang Peak. The climb is treacherous, the winds fierce, and old traps still guard the blade. It tests courage—facing danger side by side.”</valerian> Another sip. <valerian>“The Orb of the Southern Woods is deepest. The grove is alive—whispering oaks that confuse the mind, illusions, creatures that test trust. We must rely on each other completely. No secrets. No hesitation.”</valerian> Emily took a small sip of the wine. It was rich, heady, warming her from the inside. <emily>“And if we succeed?”</emily> Valerian set his goblet down and stepped closer. Close enough that she could smell the cedar and leather on him. <valerian>“Then the kingdom will see us as one. Unbreakable. Worthy.”</valerian> He lifted a hand slowly, brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. His thumb lingered against her skin. <valerian>“I’ve waited for this moment a long time, Seraphina.”</valerian> Emily’s breath caught. She tilted her head up, meeting his gaze. They stood like that for a heartbeat—then two. Then he leaned in. The kiss was slow. Tentative at first. His lips brushed hers, soft, testing. Emily parted her mouth slightly, letting him deepen it. His hand slid to the nape of her neck, fingers threading into her hair. The kiss grew hungrier—tongues touching, tasting wine and heat and unspoken want. <img src="Images/2.2/12.gif"> Valerian’s other hand moved to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She felt the hard length of him pressing through his breeches against her belly. He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against her mouth. <valerian>“I want you. Now. Here.”</valerian> His fingers found the laces at the back of her gown, tugging gently. Emily’s heart slammed against her ribs. She wanted this—gods, she wanted it—but she couldn’t. Not yet. Not as the virgin princess. She caught his wrists, stopping his hands. <emily>“Not… not before marriage.”</emily> Her voice trembled—half act, half genuine fear of breaking the charade. Valerian stilled. For a moment she thought he might push. But then he exhaled, a low, frustrated sound, and rested his forehead against hers. <valerian>“You’re right. I promised myself I would wait. I will not dishonor you… or our future.”</valerian> He kissed her again—gentler this time, almost reverent—then stepped back, releasing her. They stood in silence for a moment, breathing hard. <valerian>“We should rest. Tomorrow will test us in ways we cannot yet imagine.”</valerian> Emily nodded, smoothing her gown with trembling hands. <emily>“Yes. I… I think I’ll take a walk. Clear my head. The palace is beautiful at night.”</emily> Valerian smiled—warm, but edged with something possessive. <valerian>“Of course. Explore. But stay within the inner walls. The gardens are safe. I’ll have a guard shadow you at a distance.”</valerian> He leaned in one last time, brushing his lips against her temple. <valerian>“Sleep well, my future queen. We have a long road ahead.”</valerian> Emily slipped out of his chambers, heart still racing, lips tingling from his kiss. The corridor was quiet. Torches flickered in iron sconces. A single guard fell into step far behind her—silent, unobtrusive. [[She walked]]

Emily wandered the moonlit corridors of Valeria’s palace, the soft soles of her slippers whispering against the cool marble. The guards Valerian had assigned trailed at a respectful distance—far enough that she could pretend she was alone. The night air carried the faint scent of jasmine from the gardens below, and the distant murmur of fountains. She needed to think—about the Trial of the Three Relics, about Valerian’s kiss still tingling on her lips, about how she was going to steal time to learn anything useful about the magic stone before the three days ran out. [[A lady with face covered]] [[Royal Gardens]] [[Sleep|D02]]

A young woman—tall, lithe, with long dark hair cascading down her back—moved quickly down the hallway toward a set of gilded double doors marked with the royal crest. Her face was hidden behind a sheer black veil that draped from a silver circlet, but the way the silk nightgown clung to her body left little to the imagination: full breasts straining against the fabric, hips swaying with deliberate grace, legs long and toned beneath the hem. <img src="Images/2.2/lady.jpg"> She was heading straight for what Emily recognized as the king’s private bedchamber wing. Emily’s pulse quickened. Curiosity—and something darker, hotter—stirred low in her belly. She stepped forward, voice soft but firm. <emily>“Wait.”</emily> The woman froze, turning slowly. Even through the veil, Emily could make out wide, startled eyes. <emily>“Where are you going?”</emily> The girl hesitated, then answered in a low, melodic whisper. <girl>“The king… summoned me. For the night. It is his right.”</girl> Emily’s mind flashed with sudden, filthy images: the king’s broad frame, the power in his voice, the way he might take this girl—rough, demanding, no questions asked. Heat pooled between her thighs. She thought of Seraphina’s hidden cravings, of the black man in the carriage, of how easily she had slipped into this role of insatiable princess. An idea—naughty, reckless, dangerous—ignited. Emily stepped closer, lowering her voice. <emily>“Don’t go.”</emily> The girl tilted her head. <girl>“I must. If I refuse—”</girl> <emily>“Let me go instead.”</emily> Silence stretched between them. The girl’s eyes widened behind the veil. <emily>“No one will know. We look enough alike in the dark. Same height, same build. Give me the veil, the gown… I’ll take your place. You can disappear for the night. Safe. Unseen.”</emily> The girl stared, breath quickening. <girl>“But… why would you—?”</girl> Emily smiled—slow, wicked, the smile she’d worn in the tavern, in the forge, in the magistrate’s cell. <emily>“Because I want to.”</emily> Another heartbeat. Then the girl nodded once, decisive. <girl>“Quickly. Before someone comes.”</girl> They moved into a shadowed alcove. The girl unlaced her nightgown with practiced fingers; it slipped down her body like water, revealing smooth olive skin, full breasts tipped with dark nipples, a trimmed patch of curls between her thighs. Emily shed her own gown just as fast—green wool pooling at her feet. They exchanged clothes in hurried silence. The black silk felt cool and sinful against Emily’s skin, clinging to every curve. The veil settled over her face, sheer enough to breathe through, opaque enough to hide her features in dim light. The girl—now in Emily’s green gown—looked at her with something like awe. <girl>“Be careful. The king… he takes what he wants. And he always knows when someone is lying.”</girl> Emily adjusted the veil, heart racing with dark excitement. <emily>“I know how to handle men who take what they want.”</emily> The girl gave a small, nervous laugh, then slipped away down a side passage. [[King's room]]

Emily stepped through the heavy gilded doors into King Eldric’s private bedchamber, the veil still draped over her face, heart slamming so hard she could feel it in her throat. The room was vast and warm—crimson velvet drapes, a roaring fire in the marble hearth, thick furs piled on a massive four-poster bed that dominated the center of the space. She had expected the king alone. She had not expected Queen Lysandra. The queen lounged against the headboard, dark hair spilling over bare shoulders, a sheer black robe open at the front to reveal full breasts and the shadowed valley between her thighs. She looked up as Emily entered, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. King Eldric stood beside the bed, already shirtless, broad chest dusted with silver hair, breeches unlaced. His eyes raked over Emily’s veiled form—hungry, approving. <king>“There she is. Come closer, girl. Let us see you properly.”</king> Emily’s stomach flipped. Shock, fear, and a sudden, shameful rush of heat flooded her core. <emily-thought>“He’s not alone. The queen is here. Watching. Waiting. And she doesn’t look jealous—she looks excited. Gods, they do this together. The king fucks whoever he wants, and the queen… joins. Or watches. Or both. And I’m about to be in the middle of it.”</emily-thought> She walked forward on unsteady legs, stopping at the foot of the bed. The queen’s voice was low, husky, dripping with amusement. <queen>“Take off the veil, sweet thing. We want to see the face of the girl our king chose for tonight.”</queen> <emily-thought>“They want the veil off. If I show my face… if they realize I’m not the girl they summoned—if word gets back to Valerian, or the queen questions why the ‘chosen’ looks exactly like his betrothed… I’m done. Exposed. Dead. I can’t risk it.”</emily-thought> She took one careful step forward, then stopped. <emily>“No.”</emily> Her voice was soft but firm, muffled slightly by the veil. The king’s brow arched. The queen tilted her head, amused. <king>“No?”</king> Emily lowered her gaze, hands clasped in front of her to hide their trembling. <emily>“I… I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. But the veil stays. It is part of my… tradition. My face is not to be seen by any but my husband on our wedding night. To reveal it now would bring shame upon me… and upon you, if rumors spread.”</emily> She swallowed, forcing the lie to sound reverent, fragile. <emily>“I will give you everything else. My body. My mouth. Whatever you desire. But my face… please. Let the veil remain.”</emily> Silence stretched. Then the queen laughed—low, throaty, delighted. <queen>“A modest little whore. How refreshing.”</queen> [[Next|NKLKS]]

<queen>“She’s shaking. Nervous. Or is it excitement? Lift your gown, girl. Show us what we’re working with.”</queen> Emily obeyed without hesitation. She gathered the black silk nightgown and pulled it up over her hips, exposing her bare pussy—still slick from the carriage earlier, lips swollen and glistening. <img src="Images/2.2/13.gif"> The queen reached out, trailing a single finger along Emily’s slit, collecting wetness. <queen>“Oh, she’s soaked already. This little whore was ready before she even walked in.”</queen> Emily bit her lip, thighs trembling. <emily-thought>“They’re going to fuck me. Both of them. And Valerian is waiting in his chambers, thinking I’m saving myself for our wedding night. I told him no… and now I’m about to spread my legs for his father and mother. Behind his back. Cheating on my betrothed with the king and queen. Gods, why does that make me so fucking wet?”</emily-thought> The king stepped forward, grabbing Emily by the waist and lifting her onto the bed like she weighed nothing. He threw her onto her back, the furs soft beneath her. <king>“On your knees, slut. Face down, ass up. Show the queen how eager you are.”</king> Emily scrambled into position—face pressed to the furs, ass raised high, thighs spread. The queen knelt behind her, hands spreading her cheeks wide. <img src="Images/2.2/14.jpg"> <queen>“Look at this pretty pink cunt. Already dripping for royal cock. You want it, don’t you? Want the king to stretch you open while I watch?”</queen> <emily>“Yes… please…”</emily> The king positioned himself behind her. The blunt head of his thick cock nudged her entrance—hot, heavy, demanding. He thrust in one brutal stroke. <img src="Images/2.2/15.gif"> Emily cried out, back arching as he filled her completely—thick, veined, stretching her walls to the limit. <king>“Fuck, she’s tight. Gripping me like a virgin. But we both know she’s not, don’t we?”</king> He started fucking her hard—deep, punishing thrusts that slapped against her ass, making her tits bounce beneath her. <img src="Images/2.2/16.gif"> The queen took her head and shove it on her pussy <img src="Images/2.2/17.gif"> <queen>“Taste my cunt whore”</queen> <emily-thought>“I’m cheating. Right now. Valerian thinks I’m pure, saving myself for him. And here I am—face buried in his mother’s cunt, his father’s cock slamming into me. They’re going to fill me up. Mark me. And he’ll never know. The thought of betraying him like this… it’s making me cum so hard.”</emily-thought> Her orgasm crashed over her—sudden, violent. She screamed into the furs, walls clenching around the king’s cock, gushing over the queen’s tongue. The queen laughed against her pussy. <queen>“She’s cumming, Eldric. She’s milking you. Fill her up. Breed this little slut. Cum inside her—give her what my son never will.”</queen> The king groaned, thrusts turning erratic. <king>“Fuck—take it, you royal whore. Take every drop.”</king> <img src="Images/2.2/18.gif"> He buried himself deep and came—hot, thick pulses flooding her pussy, spilling out around his cock, dripping down her thighs. Emily shuddered through the aftershocks, body limp, mind hazy. The king pulled out slowly, cum leaking from her swollen cunt. <queen>“Good girl. Now go. Clean yourself up. And remember—this stays between us.”</queen> Emily slid off the bed on shaky legs, nightgown falling back into place, cum trickling down her inner thighs. She left the chamber without a word. The corridor was empty. She leaned against the wall, breathing hard. <emily-thought>“I said no to Valerian. Told him to wait until marriage. And then I let his father fuck me raw and cum inside me while licking his mother clit. I cheated on him—on my betrothed—with his own parents. Behind his back. And I loved every second of it.”</emily-thought> The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through her. She straightened, adjusted the veil, and walked back toward her own chambers—cum still leaking from her, thighs slick, mind spinning with dark, delicious guilt. Tomorrow the trial began. But tonight… tonight she had already betrayed the prince in the most depraved way possible. And she couldn’t wait to do it again. [[Leave|She walked]]

Emily wandered deeper into the moonlit gardens of Valeria’s palace, the gravel paths crunching softly under her slippers. The air was cool and fragrant with night-blooming jasmine and damp earth. Torches flickered along the low hedges, casting long, wavering shadows. The distant hum of the palace behind her faded; here, it felt almost wild—untamed vines climbing ancient stone walls, flowerbeds overflowing with dark blossoms. She needed the quiet. Valerian’s kiss still burned on her lips, the king and queen’s cum still leaked slowly down her inner thighs beneath the borrowed nightgown. Her mind spun with guilt, arousal, and the looming Trial of the Three Relics. She just wanted a moment to breathe. Then she saw it. A small creature darted across the path—about the size of a rabbit, but nothing like one. Its fur shimmered silver-blue in the torchlight, ears long and tufted like a fox’s, tail ending in a soft glowing orb that pulsed faintly. It paused, looked at her with luminous violet eyes, then bolted into the undergrowth. Emily’s breath caught. She’d never seen anything like it—not in her time, not in this one. Curiosity overrode caution. <img src="Images/2.2/19.jpg"> <emily-thought>“What is that thing? It’s beautiful… and it’s getting away.”</emily-thought> She lifted the hem of her nightgown and ran after it, slippers slipping on loose gravel. The creature darted between bushes, through a low arch of roses. Emily followed, heart pounding, laughing breathlessly at the absurdity—chasing a glowing rabbit-thing in a royal garden while pretending to be a princess. Then her skirt caught. A thorny branch snagged the silk with a sharp rip. The fabric tore upward from hem to hip in one violent yank. Emily stumbled, lost her balance, and pitched forward—straight into a thick tangle of dense, thorny bushes. She landed hard on her stomach, arms pinned awkwardly beneath her, legs splayed behind her. The torn gown bunched around her waist, leaving her ass and pussy completely bare to the night air. Thorns pricked her skin; vines wrapped around her wrists and ankles like living ropes. She was stuck—face down, hips raised, unable to pull free without tearing herself bloody. <emily>“Help… someone, please!”</emily> [[Next|NDHASK]]

Her voice cracked, muffled by leaves and panic. Footsteps approached—slow, measured. A man’s voice—deep, aristocratic, edged with suspicion. <royal>“Who goes there? Show yourself.”</royal> He stepped into the torchlight. Tall, lean, dressed in the dark crimson livery of a high courtier—perhaps a royal advisor or knight of the inner circle. His face was handsome in a severe way: sharp cheekbones, close-cropped black hair, eyes narrowed. He stopped short when he saw her—ass up, pussy exposed, gown torn, face half-hidden by foliage. <royal>“A thief? In the royal gardens? At this hour?”</royal> Emily’s mind raced. If she said she was Seraphina, he would ask why the princess was crawling half-naked through bushes in the middle of the night. He’d demand explanations. He’d see her face. Word would reach Valerian. The swap would unravel. She swallowed hard. <emily>“Y-yes… I’m a thief. I was… trying to steal flowers. For coin. Please… help me out. I’m stuck.”</emily> The man circled her slowly, boots crunching on gravel. His gaze lingered on her exposed ass, the glistening wetness between her thighs—still slick from the king’s cum. <royal>“A thief who offers herself up so easily? I could call the guards. Have you flogged in the square.”</royal> Emily’s pulse thundered. <emily>“Please don’t. If… if you help me out… you can have me. Right here. However you want. Just… don’t look at my face. Please.”</emily> Silence. Then a low, dark chuckle. <royal>“A bargain. I accept.”</royal> He knelt behind her. Rough hands gripped her hips, thumbs spreading her cheeks wider. She felt the blunt head of his cock—thick, hot—press against her entrance. <img src="Images/2.2/21.gif"> <royal>“You’re already dripping. Been busy tonight, little thief?”</royal> He thrust in hard. Emily gasped, fingers digging into the dirt. He filled her in one stroke—thick enough to stretch her sore walls, long enough to bump her cervix. He didn’t wait—started fucking her immediately, deep, punishing thrusts that rocked her forward into the bushes. <img src="Images/2.2/22.gif"> <royal>“Tight little cunt. Taking a stranger’s cock while stuck like a bitch in heat. You like this, don’t you? Being used like a common whore.”</royal> <emily-thought>“I told Valerian no. Said we had to wait until marriage. And now I’m bent over in the bushes, getting railed by some courtier who thinks I’m a thief. Behind my betrothed’s back. . Cheating on him with A man in his own palace. Gods… why does that make me clench so hard?”</emily-thought> She moaned into the leaves, hips pushing back instinctively. <royal>“That’s it—fuck yourself on me. Milk my cock, thief. I’m going to fill this greedy hole.”</royal> He sped up—hips slapping against her ass, balls smacking her clit. Emily’s arms trembled; thorns scratched her skin. Pleasure coiled tight and fast. The man groaned, thrusts turning erratic. <royal>“Here it comes—take it all, you filthy little slut.”</royal> <img src="Images/2.2/23.gif"> <royal>“Pleasure doing business.”</royal> He stood, adjusted his breeches, and walked away without another word—leaving her still trapped in the bushes. Emily stayed there for long seconds, panting, body shaking. Then, slowly, painfully, she worked her wrists free, tore the last of the vines, and crawled out. The gown was shredded from the waist down—useless. She stood half-naked in the moonlight, cum dripping down her thighs, veil still in place. She looked back toward the palace. Valerian was asleep, thinking she was pure. She had just been fucked by a stranger in the gardens—again cheating on her betrothed. And she still had to face the Trial of the Three Relics at dawn. Emily straightened as best she could, and limped back toward her chambers—cum-slick, thorn-scratched, and burning with dark, guilty satisfaction. [[Leave|She walked]]

<div style="text-align:center; margin-top:80px; font-family:Arial, sans-serif; color:#eee;"> <h1 style="font-size:32px; margin-bottom:20px; color:#ff4d6d;"> Sultry Secrets – Subset Version </h1> <p style="max-width:600px; margin:0 auto 20px; line-height:1.6; font-size:16px;"> This is a subset version of <strong>Sultry Secrets</strong>, where Emily and Kelly find themselves transported into a mysterious medieval world. </p> <p style="max-width:600px; margin:0 auto 30px; line-height:1.6; font-size:15px; color:#bbb;"> If you want to experience the full story with all routes, characters, and events, you can play the complete version below. </p> <a href="https://mopoga.com/sultry-secrets" target="_blank" style="display:inline-block; padding:12px 25px; background:#ff4d6d; color:white; text-decoration:none; border-radius:6px; font-size:15px;"> Play Full Game </a> </div> [[Start|START_INTRO]]

<div style="text-align:center; margin-top:70px; font-family:Arial, sans-serif; color:#eee;"> <h1 style="font-size:32px; margin-bottom:20px; color:#ff4d6d;"> Story Introduction </h1> <div style="max-width:700px; margin:0 auto; line-height:1.7; font-size:16px; color:#ccc;"> <p> This is the story of Emily, a girl who lost her mother shortly after birth. She grew up never knowing the truth about her mother’s past. </p> <p> One day, while cleaning her house, Emily discovers an old diary belonging to her mother. Inside, she uncovers a shocking secret — her mother had once traveled to Portugal in search of a mysterious treasure. </p> <p> Determined to uncover the truth, Emily decides to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She transfers her college to Portugal and begins her journey. </p> <p> There, she meets Kelly, another girl chasing the same treasure. Together, they embark on a series of quests, slowly uncovering secrets hidden for years. </p> <p> But their journey takes a turn when they get stuck on a crucial task — finding a rare stone. The only way to obtain it is by locating a mysterious alchemist. </p> <p style="color:#ff4d6d;"> And this is where their real story begins... </p> </div> </div> [[Kelly House]]