The Tale of Queen Arta Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

The Tale of Queen Arta Ch. 02

... little townsfolk. I do hate when their get-hard potions are mixed with ingredients that make them cum after two pumps. It's really quite a shame for their poor wives... or whores."

"You're incorrigible, Orrea."

"Oh, yes. And like I said: you're the only one who I'll let punish me for being so exquisitely. Deliciously. Deliriously. Naughty. But. Back to business." Orrea pulled a cloth from one of several hidden pockets within her cloak, tossing it such that it fell at Arta's side upon the table, "Tonight, you will wrap this around your eyes and think of your missing love. You will touch yourself and reminisce. You will allow yourself to drift off into what I can only call an erotic realm between dreams and nightmares. And you will remain there until this realm allows you... release." She chuckles to herself with her wording. "If all goes as planned, this cloth will duplicate everything you experience tonight and will serve as a beacon to light his way home. And if he is in a place he cannot follow, then it should allow me to locate him."

"That's all?"

"All?" The sorceress pretends to be taken aback, "We're talking merely the first steps." She begins to spew out a litany of words that sound as though they might be related to the arts or sciences of magic but could equally be made up until she grows short of breath, "And you say that's 'all' I'm doing."

Arta laughed. Long and ruefully. "Very well. It sounds like hard work."

Orrea's eyes blink rapidly, ...

... trapped in some sort of internal debate whether to downplay what she's doing or to embellish further, "You're a clever one, Queen Arta. I'm going to enjoy playing my games with you. I hope you come to enjoy them as well. Now, I'm stuffed, and the sun is setting. I think it's best I depart."

Orrea rises before receiving any sort of sign she's excused and slips out of the door. Arta rings the bell for the servants and waits the mere fifteen seconds before her personal serving girl appears. Arta explains the usual excess of food and directs the girl to take half to the food to the barracks and half to the servants quarters but none to the chefs. They'd not benefit from the waste they inflicted. The girl nods appreciatively and flits out of the room with an entire roast lamb platter clutched between eager hands. Arta can hear her whispering to other nearby servants and soon several more, many of whom don't usually carry food, bustle in to clear the table lest the Queen change her mind. Arta smiles kindly and lifts Orrea's mysterious cloth from the table.

Whatever this thing is, it is made of thin and glossy fabric. It stretches but does not distort or deform. It is cool to the touch and allows light to shine through it. It carries no odor but does carry a vague, ephemeral attachment alongside. Despite such tentative touch, Arta's skin feels an unusual yearning to feel more of this cloth against it. She can't tell whether it's the majesty of this fabric or some sort of magical ...