Dungeon Mistress

To be honest, I looked pretty fucking good.

Finally, she met my eyes. “Yep, I think you’re all set.” And then her eyes drifted down, again. “And I guess you were right; certainly a medium or a large, not a small.”

You could, I realized, see the outline of my mostly-hard cock very clearly, now. I flushed with pleasure -- and then embarrassment at how good the compliment made me feel.

I had imagined a few different snappy comebacks if this topic had come up again; in the moment, none of them came to mind, though, so there was another awkward silence.

She looked at my cock a moment longer, then up at my eyes, expectant, waiting for me to say something ... and then her doorbell rang. “That’ll be Liz,” she murmured. “I’ll go let her in.”

At the thought of my friends seeing me in this outfit, I tried adjusting myself to make the outline of my cock less prominent, but there was no use; the pants were tight enough that it was just going to be on display. I settled for putting it in a position that I hoped would just be a nice bulge -- suggestive, masculine, but inoffensive, as long as I didn’t get too hard.

But it was still quite obvious. Well, at least the loose tunic would be draped over it while we were all sitting down to play.

I went out to meet Liz.

---

“Oh my god, Chris! Or should I say, Cedwin. Monica, you’ve outdone yourself.” Liz was emphatic as she looked at me, walking around, making me show off the tattoo.

I held out my forearm for her inspection.

I was, admittedly, distracted. “You, uh, look awesome too, Liz...”

Liz was also in costume.

Liz mostly wore loose, flowing dresses, or professional work attire. The occasional pair of jeans with a graphic tee.

Lucia, apparently, wore skintight black leather leggings. Heeled black leather boots. A strappy top, with a bandolier of small knives, went across her chest; she was wearing a red and gold bandana around her neck. Brown hair, up in a long ponytail, completed the look.

I was finding it difficult not to just follow Liz’s ass with my eyes as she walked around me, inspecting at the various details on my costume. God, the way she filled out those leggings. I could see her butt flex and shift with every step as she walked around me.

My nerdy childhood friend had evidently been spending some time in the gym.

“Hm?” Liz glanced up at me. “Oh, I guess I wasn’t in my costume last time, huh? You like it? I like the knives. And the boots. Monica helped me find the right pair. These are totally badass.” She carefully lifted one leg, putting a boot on the table in front of me. I tried to inspect only the boot, did my best to ignore the interesting things that the position did to her butt and thighs.

You’re wearing tight pants, I reminded myself, trying not to have a physical response. Fortunately, Liz’s attention was pulled away.

“And Monica, you look ravishing!” Liz exclaimed, turning to her. “What character are you? We haven’t seen this costume yet!”

Monica gave a small smile; she had moved behind her counter and was making drinks. “Why, none other than the Daughter of Blades stands before you, Lucia.”

Liz gave a returning grin, and shifted to her Lucia voice -- huskier. “Well, well. Her reputation precedes her.”

The doorbell rang -- Erin, presumably -- and Monica stepped away to let her in.

I took the opportunity to ask Liz a question. “Who’s the Daughter of Blades?”

“Lucia is a member of a thieves guild, the Hemlock Sisterhood,” she explained. “It’s um, wide-ranging -- chapters in each city, a shadowy network of operatives if you need a rare or dangerous item, want someone kidnapped or poisoned, that kind of thing. As the name suggests, it’s ladies-only. The Daughter of Blades runs the Ravensgate chapter; she’s kind of infamous.”

I nodded, uncertainly. “Oh. Think she could help us get some revenge on the Night Queen?”

Liz smiled, and in Lucia’s voice -- a smoky purr -- said, “That’s what we’re gonna find out, handsome.”

I had to admit that, like Erin, I liked Liz’s sexy little Lucia voice.

And -- feeling the stirring in my groin -- I realized that increasingly, I did not like my odds of getting through this without giving Liz or Erin a clear eyeful of my hard cock. I slid into my seat, figuring sitting would make it less obvious.

Fortunately, I was rescued as Monica walked back into the room from her front hallway, followed by Erin.

“Erin, that dress is great! You have to let me make some alterations, though. I could totally tweak the hemline and the neck, really lean in to the kind of sexy-woodlands-druid look you’ve got going,” Monica was saying.

“Sure, that sounds awesome! I can leave it with you when we’re done,” Erin responded. “And Monica, looking like that in your dress, you’d do great if you ever want to go corporate. You just let me know, I know some hiring mangers who’d bring you on in a heartbeat. And what kind of makeup are you using? Your skin is so tan, and it’s so even -- is that just like a bronzer, or self-tanner, or...” Erin kept going. I admittedly stopped listening to the makeup talk.

I was too busy staring at Erin, now.

She was wearing a brown dress. It was short, well above the knee, with a scoop neckline, and the muted earth tone contrasted nicely with her pale, freckled skin and red hair. Elf ears and some wooden hairclips -- little stylized birds, I realized -- and the same staff I had seen last time, completed her outfit.

As they all prattled on about skincare products, my eyes were locked on Erin’s tits in that dress. The word that came to mind was buxom. Very ... earth mother. If the earth mother in question was a MILF.

I got control of my wandering eyes just in time as Erin regarded me.

“ ... Wow, Chris! Helloooo, Cedwin!” Erin made me stand up, and gave me a once over. “Oh my god, the Tower tattoo and everything! Monica, you finally gave us some eye candy, this is a romance-novel-cover-worthy outfit!” Erin jabbed me in the ribs, grinning. Liz giggled too.

I liked it; their attention felt good -- but it was mixed with a familiar stab of jealousy, just like last session.

How come Erin and Liz never showed up like this when I ran games for them? How did Monica cultivate this ... flirty, sexy atmosphere, when in my games they’d only ever shown up wearing whatever they happened to be wearing, and the small talk was about their days at work, the ex they just broke up with, or something else equally mundane?

Monica just gave a pleased smile. “Everyone’s looking a lot better away from the Night Queen’s prison, aren’t they? Let me make some drinks, and we’ll get started. The usuals? Martini, gin and tonic, and ... bourbon?” Her eyes rested on me, and I nodded my confirmation.

“Good. Be with you in a minute.”

We all sat down, pulling out dice, character sheets, and the like.

---

“As you all arrive at The Raven’s Gate -- the eponymous entrance to Ravensgate -- you can’t help but feel more relaxed than you have in days. You haven’t been followed, you’re almost sure of it. And while technically on the border of the Night Queen’s realm, the city functions almost as an independent city-state. This is the perfect place to make a new plan ... or, perhaps, to heal your friend. Meldrin lies unconscious in the back of a wagon you bartered with some farmers to obtain. He is improved, some, but the Night Queen’s magic lingers like a malaise over his mind.”

Monica paused, steepling her fingers. “Each of you prompts a slightly different reaction from the guards and onlookers at the Gate as you enter. Who’s leading the way?”

We glanced at each other uncertainly. “Cedwin will,” I said, finally.

Monica nodded. “Cedwin specifically creates a peculiar sort of stir,” she noted.

“Because he’s a hottie,” Erin said, with a smirk.

“No, because he’s marked both by the Tower... and by the Night Queen,” Monica said, softly. As she spoke, she reached across the table and traced her fingers along the pendant around my neck. Her fingers grazed my skin -- her touch was electric.

Liz and Erin both stared, clearly noticing what the pendant implied for the first time. “But you betrayed her,” Liz said, questioningly. “You survived the interrogation and escaped. Cedwin doesn’t work for her anymore.”

I hesitated, not quite sure how to play this, but nodded. “Yeah, Cedwin’s not exactly a fan. But he’s still got the accoutrements, as it were. I mean, it might come in handy.”

Liz opened her mouth to say something else, but Monica cut in smoothly. “The Tower tattoo on your arm prompts some nods of respect. But they quickly turn to quiet mutters as folks notice the moon pendant, Cedwin. The Night Queen has a complicated relationship with this city, evidently.”

We all mulled that over for a moment. “Who’s through next?” Monica asked.

“Enna!” Erin said her character’s name enthusiastically.

Monica nodded. “Enna’s elven beauty provokes significant interest, especially from the male guards. You get more than a few leers. You get the feeling that you might get more trouble than leers, but they eye Cedwin -- and the blade at his side -- and think better of it.”

“Oh my god, they think Enna and Cedwin are looovers,” Erin said, giggling and leaning against me dramatically.

The part of me that had harbored a crush on Erin for the last fifteen years reveled in the physical contact. But I tried to play it cool, and managed a laugh. “I mean, as I recall, you did say -- what was it? -- that Enna would climb his tower?” I quipped.

“She does love a good tower,” she said, flirtatiously, using Enna’s voice. The words, and the feel of her bare arm brushing mine, the curve of her pressing against me as she leaned over to shoulder me, were prompting a physical response. I was glad we were all sitting down.

Liz rolled her eyes. “Sometime Lucia will tell Cedwin what Enna got up to when we first arrived at the Night Court. You wouldn’t believe--”

“ ... And finally, Lucia,” Monica intoned, clearly trying to keep us on track. “Lucia, your entrance to the city does not go unobserved either. On the other side of the gate, you see a woman -- in beggar’s clothing, though perhaps more than she seems -- flash you a familiar hand sign; the Sisterhood’s greeting.”

Erin leaned over to me and whispered, “She’s part of this, like, thief sorority.”

“Quiet, Erin, I already told him about it,” Liz said. “Lucia returns the greeting, walks over, and flips the woman a coin. She wants to have a conversation.”

“The woman snaps the coin out of the air with a well-practiced gesture.” Monica gave her voice a reedy, spindly rasp. “What news from the road?”

“I’m afraid I’m out of the loop, so to speak, Sister,” Liz responded in Lucia’s husky tones. “I was going to ask you the same thing. My companions and I have, until quite recently, been... guests, but left our accommodations behind, a week or so ago. We need a place to reestablish ourselves.”

“Oh, my. Guests of whom?” Monica made a peering, worried facial expression.

Liz hesitated. “Can I do, like, some kind of guild hand signals for Night Queen? I don’t wanna say her name out loud and attract attention.”

Monica nodded. “Sure. The woman looks taken aback for a moment. Then she says...” Monica shifted back to the reedy voice. “My, my. Well. That’s above my pay grade. Politics, you know. You’ll need to see the Daughter directly, then, if you want Sisterhood assistance in this case.”

Liz nodded. “I thought as much. How do we find her?”

“She gives you a time and a streetcorner to meet someone at tonight,” Monica said. “And then she skulks off -- probably to go tell others about you.”

“Okay, we’ll plan to meet them, but it sounds like we’ve got some time to kill. We should get supplies between now and then -- Cedwin could probably use some armor, right?” Liz looked at me.

I nodded.

“What does Enna need in order to heal Meldrin?” Erin asked, curious.

Monica consulted her notes. “Enna has a complicated ritual in mind that she think will do the trick. Most of the components are easy to come by, but you will need two harder-to-come-by things that you won’t find in some shopkeeper’s stall.”

“Okay, what’s the rare stuff?” Erin pulled out a pen to jot down some notes.

“First, the flowers of a plant called the Moon’s Tears; they’re incredibly rare, and are used in all kinds of mind-altering poisons and drugs ... and in their antidotes. You might forage them, but you’d have to get incredibly lucky, this close to a city. An alchemist or herbalist might have a small supply of them, though.”

Monica paused, letting that sink in. Erin nodded, thoughtfully.

“The second is somewhere to actually perform the ritual. In this case, you need a place of perfect darkness -- something that physically mirrors the absolute darkness that has clouded Meldrin’s mind. Your average room-with-the-doors-closed-and-windows-shuttered won’t cut it; maybe a cave deep underground or similar. No light at all.”

“I mean, both of those seem like things the Hemlock Sisterhood can help with,” Liz pointed out. “Why don’t we find a safe place to stow Meldrin, go shopping for all the easy stuff, and then we can see if they’ll set us up with those.”

---

We roleplayed our way through shopping. The party was low on gold -- the Night Queen’s guards had confiscated most of their hoarded wealth when they’d been captured -- but we got some healing potions, some armor for Cedwin, and the mundane supplies that Enna needed.

Lucia wanted a new set of lockpicks and some trap-disarming tools, but Monica declared she’d have to go to the Sisterhood for that too. “Merchants like locks,” she said, amused. “You think people whose livelihoods rely on putting gold in a locked chest at the end of a business day run around freely selling lockpicks to shady adventurers like you?”

Liz sighed ruefully, but nodded. “Okay. Yet another ask for the Sisterhood. Let’s go see them, then.”