NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1 – Antilorwe – Expectation
Antilorwe walked among the carefully lined row of orchids. Her brilliant hazel eyes wandered over the rows of bright purple, orange and warm pink flowers dazzling in the late afternoon rays of the sun. She stopped to admire those refined forms and occasionally caress them with her slender fingers or even pick them when they tickled her fancy. Holding the peduncle between her fingers, she gave it a twirl, while a small smile graced her plump lips. The gentle fragrance slowly permeated her being, further tantalizing her aroused senses.
Her eyes did a cautious sweep of the manor. Having sent the staff, sentry and gardeners away under the pretext of the confidential nature of the negotiation, she saw no one else around the grounds. The manor, located in a lush, green countryside and a week's journey from the nearest city provided her with the privacy she needed. Waerondil and Leyandur both considered it as a waste of investment to her hard-earned salary as a well-respected solicitor, but deep down Antilorwe needed the respite from her day-to-day affairs of administration and most importantly, it set her free to pursue her personal dream and beckoning obsession of lording and trysting over sexually intoxicated lasses. Race mattered little, to her. If an individual struck her fancy, she would pursue the attraction. Besides, she was still young by high-elven standards. Plenty of time ahead to secure powerful alliances, and nab some position in royal courts. Other beautiful willing women would seek her attention, but for now, two other women, each pristine and unique in their own ways, occupied her mind.
Antilorwe shook her thoughts and returned to gazing at the orchids. The tall high-elf usually preferred blue and white orchids, felt that they represented purer beauty and true elegance; however, this day she could not refrain herself from snatching up a hot pink one and giving it a twirl, while her mind still struggled with her carefully drafted plan -- to revel in pure inhibitionless intimacy with the Orc High Lady and the female human mage. Since neither of the women was unwilling to initiate further talks, an unspoken sexually charged tense atmosphere hung between the Orc High Lady and female planar mage, and she considered making the most of their encounter. After all, if she wanted to play sexually with both the alluring creatures in question, there was nothing to lose by doing so. There was a taste of a forbiddenly sweet encounter, in letting the callous Orc's hands ravage her in what would be an equally hot-as-you-like scene in front of the innocent Cyrene. She almost knew that the mage is a virgin, and there is something deeply satisfying to introduce her to the delights of carnal pleasure.
Corrupting the innocent Cyrene would be sublime. She flicked her pink tongue over her peachy lips, a slow tremor rippled through her with the thought of the hapless Cyrene kneeling before her wide spread legs, with just a slight bit of coaxed submission, to end up satisfying her in all ways. And that, too, right in front of Urganza. Will the Orc High Lady Urganza, succumb to the flare of jealousy? Or will she join the two, completing the carnal circle? Both the options, delighted and exhilarated her greatly, vibrantly filling her fragile being, into a state akin to a sensory overload. Almost hyperventilating slightly due to the heightened hormonal rush, the otherwise rigid high-elf diplomat exulted with potent sexual energy coursing throughout her muscles and the accompanying tingly sensation showered her whole body -- urging her to act upon the impulse. Her blissful state made her shiver slightly, pushing forward all thoughts aside except what she desperately wanted, needed, craved - Urganza and Cyrene; together.
Antilorwe breathed through her mouth as she rested her back against the broad marble arch of a gazebo. She admitted, somewhat guiltily, that should other high-elven diplomats be aware of her proclivities, her raging desire for a human girl and a savage unclean Orc, she might as well dig her own grave. A shudder took hold of her; being shunned by fellow high elves and subjected to ignominy, all for her increased inclination towards her own sexual gratification. Her own sexual gratification, her private affair, and yet the morally obliged high-elves would still sink their poisonous claws, driving her to her ruin, like how they drove poor Justiciar Celerim Stormaire when his affair with the dark-elf Lord Savvas came to light. Except, the young drow queen Dellynthelaara of Aealaninth, adopted Celerim into her family, and welcomed him like her own brother. Antilorwe was aware that she had no such safety net, should her deeds come to light. To have intimacy with another race would bring dishonour. These types of secret liaisons required utmost secrecy. She cannot falter.
Lost in her forbidden desires, with arms and legs laid as relaxed as one can imagine, stretching as far as possible across the velvet couch under the gazebo and despite the cool breeze, Antilorwe slowly became aware of her own heavy palpitating heartbeat as it relentlessly pushed warm blood through her throbbing veins. Her own body, slowly drenched in sweat and most importantly, the slowly permeating wetness between her legs. Her stiff nipples continued sending soft little spikes of shivering waves coursing in a roundabout fashion throughout her belly. A slight whimper escaped her luscious lips as she twisted and rested more firmly against the lounging side. Yet, she failed in her attempts to resist the avalanche of thoughts. She was overwhelmed with the urge to spread her legs, push herself and straddle against the well-toned thigh of Urganza. Nor could she ignore the tempestuous feel of twirling and teasing the perky nipples on the small budding breasts of Cyrene between her exploring fingers.
Antilorwe stood up, dazed and slightly disoriented from the sudden erotic and vivid visual image. Her expensive silken undergarments cling to her skin from sweat. She desperately needed a bath to calm herself, failing which, she took solace in the fact that what she could do in the comfort of her bath could probably relieve her. At least till the Orc High Lady and the mage arrived.
Antilorwe walked towards the side entrance, situated beside the garden, offering easy access to its extensive grounds. Unlike traditional manors where rooms were solely marked for their intended purposes, this manor was different. She made sure to have a very specialized section, comprising rooms custom-built for certain recreational and indulging hobbies. She ran straight through the main foyer and turned towards the left wing, ignoring the row of expensive chandeliers and velvet tapestries. Such were extravagant fittings in an isolated manor, but thankfully, Antilorwe had been minting enough wealth for taking full advantage of such opulence. These were just the normal area of the manor. A caution, Antilorwe employed, should she be forced to entertain unexpected guests. Looking at the foyer and the central hall, it would project the impression of either a single wealthy merchant or an unmarried young noble, indulging in her feminine sensuous delights. The usual arrangement; prepare for company, invite polite gatherings; wine, music, poetry. The High elf spent ample hours curating the space. At demand, she would arrange plants, art installations, book clubs and absolutely any feminine fluffiness to spice up the ambience.
Her own bower, the solar and anything beyond the confines of the central hall was kept meticulously clean, tight and wholly secret from everyone else. It was reserved exclusively for occasions that she enjoyed indulgence in a completely uninhabited and unrestrained way; showcasing luxurious trappings akin to lavishing decadence, romantic delights, taking long baths and clattering about in tight revealing frocks. Gazing through the next room, Antilorwe barely bothered to step inside. It cost her half a day to set up all her lavish toys. She quenched the lingering thirst, urging her to thrust her hips, hungering for personal pleasure and excitation. She sighed wistfully. The illicit thrill piqued once again in the deep recess of her soul. She slowly padded through the magnificently decorated corridor, leading to one of her favourite baths. There she could indulge herself without any disturbance.
Just as she turned the corner, her gaze fixed on her dove-eyed maid hanging near the doorway. Expensive doeskin leather-heeled shoes adoring her small feet, her ankles crossed, the girl bit onto her index finger with a sour look piquing at Antilorwe, simply regarding her in silence. Slender, long bone structured girl, standing stiffly and staring insolently at her mistress, would have been unthinkable. Except, she was one of the few staff of the manor who Antilorwe allowed to stay, privy to her Mistress's own secret. Antilorwe had her reasons. The girl has her own proclivities. One that Antilorwe found appealing at times and downright annoying at others. It annoyed the hell out of her at times. But overall, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.
Antilorwe felt herself harden as she halted in front of the coquettish girl. Both stared at each other briefly, before the latter pointed to the entrance to her bath.
"Mistress," she raised her eyes meekly with questions, continuing to let her doe-eye roam over her mistress, "Please, my lady?"
"I can undress myself," Antilorwe said dryly, tone dark and low.
"Oh, my apologies, Mistress." Wriggling and flustered came the response.
"But I will wait should you deem my assistance, Mistress," the maid attempted in a low, sweet voice. Of course, she wanted to watch Antilorwe get naked, see her shamelessly and willingly pleasure herself in the immodest ways.
Antilorwe ignored her if only to reaffirm some sense of normality since she as the Lady of the Manor so conveniently had permitted her to wallow in any form of sin. But her maid was pure shrewd. Antilorwe was certain she would find a way around.
Unfolding herself, the mistress of the manor ambled down the doorway to her exquisite bath suite, through the ornate ceramic tile of stairs, footsteps echoing with a thump, reverberating with her confidence. Bright sunlight filtered through the clear crystal windows making the bath as bright as the day outside. White marble floor, sank low at the centre to form a pool, where crystal clear warm water collected. Marble plinth served bright clean towels and exotic perfumes at their top. On one corner of her modest indoor pool serving as a bath, stood the tall statue of a mermaid, made for compelling display. Carved exquisitely from the finest quality, the statue glistened in brilliant white without glare and submerged with a translucent taut. The form of the mermaid, slender and almost realistic, with an impossibly narrow waist, and smooth perfectly shaped breasts covered barely by two meagre seashells. Bubbly clear water flew in a steady jet stream from a vessel that she held in her hand.
In an alcove behind glass doors, fresh lotions scents, books and even pillows were lined up. Another panel at the opposite end offered mirrors covered in frosted tulle-like silver coating for two-sided reflections. Mirrors, decoys of concealed furnishing and retractable mirrored ceiling panels, made the bath spacious and complete within itself. But Antilorwe’s design had other plans. The two-way mirror, offered the inhabitants of the bath to appreciate and revel in their own naked form while the person on the other side gets to witness the raunchy acts. Antilorwe had no doubts her mousy maid now stood with perverted anticipation on the other side. Yet, the high elf did not care. It was a tool used as much as other luxuries, offering self-reflection and adding an element of playfulness to her universe.
Without much further thought, Antilorwe began to strip off, doing so very slowly. In all honesty, she was aroused beyond tolerance, anxious for another indescribable jubilant delight. She slowly shed her long skirt and liberated herself from the confines of her heavy leather vest and the satin blouse followed. She paused a little before bending to lift up her silver-soled feet. Brushing them off in ones, she drew down her stockings, exposing panties of sexier stretch lace and seams. Despite her ample breasts, her small waistline, lay trapped behind her emerald silk camisole that matched perfectly; laced strap highlighting in detail, her flawless cleavage.
She held the sway in her luxurious figure with slow graceful moments and slowly liberated her breasts, from the confines of her camisole, flaunting curves of ivory skin that was never meant to catch eyes unprepared. She was fully aware of the effect she had on her peeping maid. Just the sight of being nude in front of someone without owning power made Antilorwe feel liberated. Usually, tight clothing enabled women to layer their disguises, making them feel confident. For Antilorwe nudity was never demure. She embraced her nudity joyously, embracing her unusual passion. Armed with the knowledge that her maid on the other side is adjusting the folds of her skirt vigorously, Antilorwe slowly slid her thumbs on either side of the straps of her panties, sliding, allowing it to fall from her silken ass.
She slid four marble steps leading down the pool. She entered with trembling feet. The mellowy warmth welcomed her, rising tenderly from the clear water. She felt swollen excitement pulse between her legs in waves of powerful heat; assaulting her relentlessly, yet soft and coaxing. Her arousal was visceral. She turned around, submerged neck deep, in the soothing herbal water, yet, she felt disappointment filling her heart. Her mind searched deep within herself to calm her rising feelings and nothing presented itself as a substantial fantasy to feed upon. She knew what she was missing, what was taunting her with a fierce thirst.
Unable to help herself, she gasped, savouring every moment. Her inner goddess gushed forth then quickly retreated into quiet obscurity in the blink of an eye. She gently ran her fingers through the generous bosom, teasing her pink mound and found the resulting tremor that shattered her body, unbearable. A trembling hand slipped down into the refreshing water and touched herself seductively, while her lips muttered, the names, Urganza and Cyrene, repeatedly. Her probing fingers found her clitoris. Her hand began to move on its own. Eyes shut, but the images of the naked amorphous form of Urganza and the exotic body of the human girl still vividly dancing before her inner eye, she continued teasing herself; gently, rubbing and pressing in circles. Warm fluids quivered around her throbbing clitoris, her folds found her delicate fingers taunting so sensitive and twitchingly hot that they begged for release. For multiple micro releases.
Her probing hazel eyes held fixed on the marble statue and the jet of water that fell from it. Falling on hands and legs, she raised her trembling ass up. Liberating one of her hands, she pulled aside her ass cheeks, exposing her delicate pink hole and the smooth folds of her labia. She crawled shamelessly with her sensitive spots vulnerably exposed, like a beast in the wild during heat, seeking a mate. Her willowy frame spasmed involuntarily as the powerful stream of water slapped the hole between her ass cheeks. Seepage instantly caressed her nether regions, oozing onto her already lubricated vagina. Her left arm shot towards her throbbing clitoris but found the demanding vagina hard to ignore. She plunged her forefinger deep into her carnal canal while grinding her palm firmly atop her clitoris. Yet, the stirring in her vagina demanded more; wanting more; desperate for more. She slid two more fingers to quell the rebellion in her quim.
Falling into a stroking motion, she raised, exposed hips thrusting to her own sexual rhythm, she dreamt. A powerful dream, far more enthralling than getting eaten out. It was rapturous worship. There was no tempestuous jet of water assaulting her asshole. Just Urganza's proding hands, seeking to explore, invade her anal opening. The gentle wave of warm water tickling her pink nipples, were the eager lips of the inexperienced Cyrene, attempting between sucking and lick her breast with fervour. The throbbing sensation inside her clenching vagina permeating her entire system came from Urganza, holding and guiding the excited Cyrene inside her; encouraging the naive girl through her virgin experience.
The image struck her, repeatedly. Each time more vivid than the last. With the onset of Orgasm, the accompanying sensory overload, drove her other senses wild, till only the visualised image of them overwhelmed her other senses, making it hard to distinguish between reality and fantasy; an intense merger of emotional triggers followed her shudders. Overwhelmed sensation saturated her entire nervous system; prickling pleasurably up and down her whole writhing body. Thorns of delicious sensations intertwined her, holding her captive between emotional and physical stimulation, coiling her tighter with every wave of spasm that rippled through her. Her eyes tightly shut and rolled back completely lost in ecstasy. Her blood vessels trembled frantically; while stretched between gasping and moaning resonated from deep inside her throat. The whole room thrummed and distorted and spasms of undeniable pleasure vibrantly assaulted her. Antilorwe was lost. An incessant tide finally rolled through her being, leaving no option as she enjoyed convulsive bliss.
A small controlled and suppressed moaning, barely audible to any, soon spread from the other side of the mirror. Antilorwe's maid could no longer hold her own craving demands, having witnessed her mistress lose herself to a bestial sensation. The muffled actions on the other side instigated her own arousal without censure. Unable to resist, which she had no intention of, seeing her mistress gyrate her hips upwards, letting the undulation in her mound for her to witness clearly, she uttered a silent thanks to her Mistress for the salacious gift. Shifting two hands under her maid skirt, she reached out for the rear of her panties and slowly pulled the clinging garment from the butt cheeks until the silk slips parted from her wet cunt. Her slips held back but eventually slid slowly before making a messy exit.
She caught a glimpse of her Mistress's pantyless pussy lips. Her eyes held fixated on Antilorwe's smooth mound and the motion of the high elf's fingers moving in and out of her vagina. At the tantalizing picture before her sight, a liquid fire razed through her whole body from her clit. She could no longer hold back. Pulling back slightly, she lifted the hem of her skirt up to her waist, revealing her softly glistening labia encased by curly fine hair. While her Mistress could invoke powerful images to consolidate her climax, she was more of a visual person and most importantly, she was never a clit girl. She craved penetration -- from both ends.
Slowly, she brought a finger in and the action awoke her itching rectum to consume her fingers with voracity. The exquisite ache from the insertion was submerged by the feelings from various nerve endings in her penetrated treasure zone. Blood flooded back to pulsate in waves through her organs up to her spine and finally cascaded through her tits creating minor tremors along its path. Slowly juices dribbled from her glistening cunt, coating her thigh. The juices slowly dripped over her perineum.
Sweat flooded her face and temple, so very fragrant.
Next, she switched fingers, redid the work, only deeper inside her nethercunt to slowly melt her body in flowing waves of agonising pleasure that twisted her nerves, begging for relief. Her hand hit her perineum lightly, at first, testing its resisting nature. A slow sigh escaped her lips as she buried two fingers at once. One; two; and then finding her still unsatisfied; three. Encourage by slippery eagerness, her strokes became faster. The drenched inside of her marmoreal passage pulsated in response.
More mirth swam into her system when she witnessed her Mistress at the other side, enthralled by the slowly building throng of pleasure. Her otherwise beautiful and serene face, contorted by the invading ripples of orgasmic pleasure, basked in the delicious long shower of Antilorwe's pleasure. The maid, drank in every bit of the scene, memorizing every tiny detail, the way her Mistress grew thirsty, the way fluid poured from her soaked body, the golden saliva leaking from her drooling mouth. The visual flooded her with tremendous sensations rippling through her eager cervix. Ripples of ecstasy flooded across her warm belly. She was at the cusp of the insurmountable barrier. New eruptions gripped her body. Still, the climax eluded her. No matter how many fingers she burrowed, the relentless pressure built but her needs were not met.
Frustrated she gave up. Her Mistress expects visitors soon. There would be more visual stimuli for her and free access to the treasured toys of her Mistress. Under no compulsion of any reason, she straightened the folds of her maid skirt and grabbed her discarded slips. She walked away with feigned dignity, briskly but steadily, leaving Antilorwe to process her post-coitus thoughts alone.
Still yearning for more, Antilorwe was mangled by another surreptitious image intruding the periphery of her fantasy. Urganza, clad only in her loincloth, her green voluminous breast exposed, wrapped an arm around the trembling form of Cyrene, now pulled on her lap. The long elegant robes of the girl hung from her slender shoulders dishevelled and torn from the Orc High lady's callous handling. A single budding breast taunted Antilorwe, peeking and hiding behind the folds of her dress as the girl struggled with heaving breath. Urganza's other hand, disappeared behind the hem of her flipped skirt, invading the arcane region between the girl's thighs, stroking the bulge on the girl. Cyrene's small curvy lips contorted into a sucking circle, unfathomable ecstasy and shame, mangled the poor girl, while Urganza coaxed sweet calming words in her ears. Utterly carnal pleasure mixed with something. She knew now. This was not a fleeting fancy for two exotic creatures she met. She was in love. With both of them.
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