The society's underskirts

The society's underskirts
Recueil	Smut
Livre	My (fancy) life as a slave
Type	Chapitre
État	Publié

"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class and profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her finally smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo's face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her than her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you, mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"

The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh, and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which I'm certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds crisscrossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. Fire-red hair and smug green eyes, I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then. Even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem with which Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body, and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few questions pop in my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "It is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. 'Mayor' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood workers' union, which is a kind of political group that serves as the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are dissensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to go fetch my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on track. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distorts under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every piece of information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to be honest, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even fewer really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or tries to make us destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before he was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seems to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance, and pulls me into a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand is pressing against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight, so I'm unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by what I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, that of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I know this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. Really glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress Morr's worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You surely realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs are already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what all that was. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, if it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft, silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

OH MY GODS!

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —Lady Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it right now, but it's not the place nor the context. I repackage my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. No! Everything but his!

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her of this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package is stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, put on a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then looks back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here? Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully, who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resumes her work as if nothing happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fear my mistress, but not in the same way they fear Lady Morr. This Frauen does care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really values her, even considering she's noble and they are not.

I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait for me where we separated. He tells me she went to a rather shady tea shop, 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown, fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice two empty teacups and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, which the stranger returned, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries and gives them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin now, right?" observes the lady stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself, though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup, and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: 'don't drink — poison'.

"Oh, mistress, I almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it, she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never ever scolded me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touches her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger doesn't seem to like it very much.

"There are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs right before taking yet another sip of poisoned tea.

"Would you care to remind me?" She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure I can address any concern you have."

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain from displaying a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intend the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to kill me. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stiletto out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seems to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress is going to die.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards were listening at the door and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the doorframe, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is I who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she takes me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flushes against her dick. Without much thought, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nibble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relax, splaying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder, and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that right now?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick with my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieves her of all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nests my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm take over, and she starts pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breathe happen sporadically when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her butt cheeks and stroke her anus. That's when it begins to twitch under my caresses that I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder and so fast that I can't breathe anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much that I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of something!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently strokes my hair, still trying to sort out her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional, but their body language betrays them. The lady stranger —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress, and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me an embroidered towel.

Then, with undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent, handmade, ankle-long, gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so gorgeous in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride, I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt our little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent, which seems to match the strange embroidered robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer, though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There is clearly some subtext to all he said, and his words struck true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."

"So, what nectar will stanch your parchedness today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometimes serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, Master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain from calling an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass or a cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse do you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismiss me. You know Ashby, always to themself. But all in all, they are in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks into her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then puts it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, you are a human," he continues. "Above a human, you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involve de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. Your friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman standing up for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes to fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With me?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, looks at me in the eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I must apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for involving you in my schemes. And others'. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft, huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

The words hit me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a child?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with an ork is a death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children they may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating-up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby get executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, I protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadows all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred, even. Unlike you, they aren't cut out to be a slave."

Cut out to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know everything."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."

"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress' mumbling that brings me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation into their rumored relationship. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.

I knew my former mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I say to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A very hard one after all that's been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and takes a moment to breathe. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress averts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit or withdraw.

Our mistress turns to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I am our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You know our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lowers their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said 'our project`. Not hers, theirs.

She comes to me and squeezes my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They've survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts, and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso and stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words, they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always given me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not that special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put on a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every square inch of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the surrounding crowd. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinches my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As an answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grab both of my boobs with their two hands, and begin to fondle, squeeze, and play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body is becoming electric. As if every nerve ending across my skin suddenly wakes up and gets stimulated by the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel them breathe hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reaches its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle, and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones will break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my oversensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and is already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rises. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock the size of my fist, raise their arm, and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, please don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum now!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitched voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent below me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright, and they hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling, green, tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper in my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry, the crowd is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained, and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to apologize, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight, and I stumble. I lean on my mistress, who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put on a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."