A Different Kind Of Dungeon Master - Sex Stories

A Different Kind Of Dungeon Master

... materialize in a palatial dining room, sitting at a table long enough to host a hundred people. All of that space is empty at the moment, except for yourself, and, on your left, at the head of the table, the prince himself. Right now, he looks basically like a man. Very handsome, in a sickly, malnourished, Burtonesque kind of way. But he does have a prominent pair of ridged horns, and when he moves, you notice that the speed and effort of his motions don’t quite line up with what you’d expect for the dimensions of his body. There’s clearly something bigger and incomprehensibly more powerful controlling this form of a man in front of you.”

“Uh huh. So, am I dead now?” Rachel asked.

“You’re, like, provisionally dead,” I explained. “You could theoretically just stay here like this and be immortal if nothing changed, but you still have the ability to return to Earth in your own body as a living person. You can also be injured and killed just like on Earth, and potentially end up in a different part of the afterlife.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Prince Bastidio leans forward to take your hand,” I said, and leaned forward to take Rachel’s. “‘Welcome home, Ms. Brighton. I know this may not be the existence you imagined for yourself, but please believe me when I tell you, all of Hell and Earth salute your sacrifice.’ And he slides out of his chair, onto his knee, and kisses your hand.”

As I narrated, I did the same, holding Rachel’s gaze as I took one knee and pressed my ...

... lips to the soft skin between her knuckles.

During an everyday game, I tended to get pretty into my gestures as I strove to embody all of the NPCs the players interacted with. While caught in the moment, Imight reach out to hold someone’s hand, but that was about all the contact I’d go for.

To my relief, Rachel watched me cross that line and grinned, like it was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

Okay. So, this game wasn’t going to be just words and dice and paper.

Rachel squeezed my hand, held the moment a little longer, and then said, “So, I can roll for insight on this guy, yeah?”

“Go for it.”

She rolled. “Sixteen plus two… eighteen.”

“Eighteen? Nice. You don’t sense any direct deception from Prince Bastidio. He has secrets, for sure, but he honestly does seem to want you to feel comfortable and appreciated, if possible.”

“Do I have my weapons?”

“No. You were sent through the portal in just ceremonial, like, baptismal clothes.”

“Are there knives at the dinner table?”

“…Sure, you see some steak knives lying around.”

“I stab him in the neck and run for his office.”

I laughed. “Already? We’re going right from hello to neck stabbing?”

“I came here to do a job, didn’t I?” asked Rachel.

I’d had this whole simmering dinner scene sketched out in my mind, but frustrating as it could be, this was a big part of why I loved playing with Rachel. Stories were much less interesting when they played out unchallenged, exactly the way I’d ...