Dungeon Mistress II
Copyright© 2026 by JayFriday
Chapter 3: The Seraph of Secrets
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3: The Seraph of Secrets - The sequel series to Dungeon Mistress! Read that first. The D&D group's relationships are now fractured. Maybe Liz's campaign is an opportunity to grow something new -- or maybe it's just another playground for dominance, sexual tension, and desire. Can the Children of the Sun can renew their relationships, or will they just repeat the patterns of their past?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Blackmail Coercion Consensual Reluctant Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Sharing DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Group Sex Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Interracial White Male White Female Indian Female Exhibitionism Facial Massage Oral Sex Petting Tit-Fucking Voyeurism Big Breasts Geeks Revenge
~CHRIS----
Liz: Look, dude, you’ve gotta pick a patron today, or I’m gonna pick one for you.
I stared at the text.
I knew she was right. I spent far more time agonizing over my warlock’s patron than I’d like to admit, and our first actual session was -- finally -- only two weeks away. I’d be annoyed if a player had lingered this long on a foundational character choice in a game that I was running.
It just felt so unexpectedly high stakes. It was going to define, I assumed, a character that Liz played for the rest of the campaign.
Not to mention what Liz was wearing for the rest of the series. And how she’d behave towards me. At least some of the time.
And there were some patrons in here that sounded like they’d wear outfits that Liz would look pretty hot in. And that would behave...
Pretty seductively.
I tried not to dwell on that as a reason to pick them, but it was inescapable. Even though I felt a little... weird, about what had happened with Liz. I wished I’d gotten her to be clearer about her motives. Part of me had, I supposed, been hoping that she’d run a less sexually complicated game than Monica. Had Liz seriously gone down on me to help me focus on the game? In retrospect, that felt like an almost laughable pretext.
Did she want to be friends with benefits?
Or something more?
I debated texting her to ask, but didn’t. That felt like an in-person conversation, not something to just text her.
Instead, I tried to focus on picking a patron.
I put the physical appearances and behaviors I imagined for each of them -- and thus, the costumes I was imagining Liz wearing, the way she’d engage with me -- out of my mind.
I should make this choice the same way I picked my character’s class, I decided. What would give me a leg up, the kind of advantage that might help me navigate... whatever this was, with Monica and all my friends?
When I thought about it that way, it was surprisingly easy, actually. There was one incredibly clear winner.
It wasn’t necessarily what I would’ve picked in a traditional game. Or, frankly, what I would’ve picked if I were deciding which outfit Liz would look hottest wearing. There were some options that sounded like they were probably just wearing strappy leather or completely nude. Or that had fantastical attire. What would Liz look like cloaked in starlight, for example?
But I gave my choice a second read-through, and it only confirmed my perspective. It had all the right thematic trappings to be really useful. So I texted Liz.
Liz: Ooh, interesting choice. OK. See you next week for the session.
Satisfied, I went to fold some laundry.
... Which I did for all of five minutes before Monica texted me.
Monica: Mmm. Interesting choice of patron. Not what I figured you’d pick, based on your ... prior tastes. Liz asked me if I could help out with a suitable costume. This’ll be fun.
I frowned in annoyance, deciding to ignore her commentary on my choice and focusing on the biggest question I had.
Chris: Why’d Liz ask you for costume help, anyway?
Monica: I do professional costume design. Mostly for theater, but I’ve done some film and TV work too.
I was taken aback. That actually explained a lot about the costuming stuff she’d done for the group last campaign, and Liz reaching out to her for this.
It was also pretty cool, if I was being honest.
Chris: I didn’t know that. That’s awesome.
Monica: There’s a bunch you don’t know about me, Chris.
She had a point.
What did I know about her, really? That she was hot, and great in bed, and ... infuriatingly manipulative ... and I thought maybe Mike had told me he’d met her at a run club? So ... she was a runner?
It was a pretty sad list, and it undercut a simple truth that left me uncomfortable: I thought of her almost entirely as a strange combination of sexual partner and adversary. More like she was the Night Queen than an actual person.
It was a pretty fucked up way to think about somebody else.
I knew almost nothing about her. I didn’t know her last name, where she worked, if she had brothers or sisters, her hobbies ... nothing.
Monica had a job. Probably parents who she visited during the holidays. Maybe she went to church.
... Well, okay, probably not church.
Another text from her came through while I was considering all of this.
Monica: Now, speaking of your tastes: do you like white, or gold better? I think Liz’ll look best in mostly white, but it is a little bridal; will that be too weird for you?
I decided that I wasn’t going to play this game with her, where she teased me about creating a hot costume for Liz.
Chris: Eh, whatever you think will look best. You’re the professional!
Monica: So indecisive. Lucky for you I don’t mind taking charge.
It was all too easy to imagine the mocking expression Monica would be wearing as she said that.
My phone pinged again before I could even consider whether to reply.
Monica: Anyway, I’ll make sure your warlock’s outfit is coordinated. Now, can you send me a photo of yourself? I want to make sure I get the proportions on it right.
Amidst everything else that had happened last session, I’d forgotten that I’d agreed to let Monica make my character’s outfit, too.
In a way, I was relieved. I’d seen the kinds of outfits Monica came up with. There was no way whatever I came up with would look even remotely as good.
But sending her a photo? I stared at the text, uncertainly. She hadn’t asked for that last campaign...
But she’d seen me already, right? All of me. So I didn’t see the harm. I was wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt at the moment, nothing special, but that seemed fine.
So -- feeling extremely self-conscious -- I walked into my bathroom, took a photo of myself in the mirror above my sink. I gave it a once over. My posture looked okay ... I sent it to her before I could dwell on it for too long.
She responded immediately.
Monica: That doesn’t work. I need full-body photos, not just your torso. One profile view, one from the front. Stand like this.
After a moment, two photos came through.
No mirror photo from her; she must’ve propped her phone up on a bed or piece of furniture. She was standing ten feet away from the camera, her full body in frame, standing relaxed. I recognized her bedroom in the background. She seemed dressed for a lazy weekend in -- navy leggings, and a light grey tank top, dark hair up in a ponytail.
The first photo was a frontal shot of her. The tank top was tight, emphasizing her tits; the leggings clung to her hips. She was winking at the camera.
The second shot was with her turned to the side.
It looked like she wasn’t wearing a bra. In the side view, the round, teardrop swell of the bottom of her breasts was clear; in the frontal photo, I thought I could see the hint of her nipples, catching on the tank top.
I flipped back and forth between them, looking at her butt in the profile picture, the wink on her face, taking in all those curves.
Another text came through.
Monica: It’s taking you a long time; you do know how to take photos on your phone, right?
I was blushing, like I’d been caught staring at her for several minutes instead of at her photos. Hurriedly, I set things up to get a better, non-mirror, pair of full body shots.
Looking at the photos, I realized that there was a pronounced dick print in my jeans, now. I wasn’t rock hard, but I’d gotten half-mast from looking at those pictures of her.
I considered. I mean, she’d seen all of me already ... and I thought it looked pretty good, the bulge suggestive. My sense was that she liked my size...
So, heart pounding, before I could think it over too much and talk myself out of it, I sent both photos to her.
She took a moment before responding.
Monica: Your clothing is kind of baggy. Can you wear something more form-fitting so I can see your proportions better for the outfit?
I snorted in disbelief. She had to be kidding. I decided that I’d rib her right back.
Chris: Your clothes were kind of baggy too; can you wear something more form-fitting so that I actually see how you want me to stand?
She responded almost immediately this time.
Monica: Oh. Sure. How’s this?
Another photo came through. This one was a selfie, from a high-angle.
And she wasn’t wearing the tank top anymore. Instead, the arm that wasn’t holding the phone was wrapped across her bare chest, pulling her tits together and covering the nipples. The angle put most of her face out of the shot -- only her mouth was in-frame, which was twisted into an extremely familiar smirk.
I stared at the pale expanse of her tits in the photo, how soft they looked with her arm cradling them together.
Now I was hard, fully and completely.
How to reply? Should I even reply?
What would Erin think, if she saw this exchange?
That last thought flitted across my mind accompanied by a crushing wave of guilt. This was another game of chicken, just like the one Monica and I had played in the character creation session. What had started with teasing was now basically one step away from ... well, sexting.
Sexting with the woman who had upended my friend group.
But if I didn’t send her something else, Monica would win the game, wouldn’t she? I’d be the one who blinked.
I regretted letting it get this far. I rubbed my eyes, wearily, debating what to do.
My phone pinged again.
Monica: Did the photo distract you?
I reddened. That brief pang of guilt I’d felt for not knowing more about her had vanished, leaving behind a familiar off-kilter mix of arousal, embarrassment, and anger.
Monica: Actually, I think I can base the size of this costume off your one from last campaign anyway, so don’t worry about it. I’ll have it -- and your patron’s outfit -- ready for you and Liz in the first session.
I was torn. Thank her? Come up with some clever comeback to show her I hadn’t backed down? She’d been so manipulative last campaign, toying with all of us...
I sighed and decided to just opt for a simple, polite reply.
Chris: OK. Thanks for making the costume.
Monica: See you next week, Cazimir.
We’d agreed on a long Saturday afternoon for our very first session. I think everybody was excited to get back to playing, me included.
And I had done some thinking about how things had gone last campaign, and in the character creation.
I really, really wanted to get one over on Monica. It was fine if she wanted to play, or tease. Hell, I could even admit to myself that maybe I wanted to play with her, that I had enjoyed our little... power struggle, during character creation.
But I didn’t just want to play. I wanted to win. I’d been close, I knew it -- but character creation had felt more like a draw. And it felt like I had backed down in our pre-session text exchange about my costume.
I had a complicated mix of feelings about Liz, too. I wanted to try to find a private moment to talk to her about what had happened. Were we friends with benefits, now? Had she just been doing what she’d been saying, and helping me out? Or if this was something else, what was it?
As it turned out, I arrived at the same time as Fiona, who looked absolutely thrilled to see me. “Hi, Cedwin!”
I gave her a grin. “It’s Cazimir, this time.” I had to admit, I liked Fiona a lot; we would never have beaten the Night Queen -- or Monica -- last campaign without her help.
She laughed, delighted. “Well, nice to meet you, Cazimir.”
Taking in her cheeky smile, I’d forgotten just how pretty Fiona was. Smooth, nut-brown skin, high cheekbones, big brown eyes, jet black hair, full lips. She was wearing jeans and a cropped t-shirt, showing off a slim midriff and feminine thighs.
I thought all the ladies I played D&D these days with were pretty hot. And I wouldn’t say Fiona was really my type. But she was certainly drop-dead gorgeous, and that slight British accent made it all seem a little more exotic and posh, amped up the sex appeal even further.
It was easy to see why Mike had developed a crush.
“How’d your character creation session go?” I ventured the question.
“It went great. Mike’s so fun to play with.” She gave me a wicked grin.
I hesitated. What to say to that? “Fiona, maybe go easy-”
“Can one of you give me a hand?”
It was Monica, calling up at us. She’d parked right in front of Liz’s house, and was struggling under a double-armful of tote bags as she stepped away from her car.
Bemused, I walked back down to the street and took a few of the bags from her.
She gave me a genuinely grateful grin. “Thanks, Chris; lots of costumes for people today.”
“Sure.” It occurred to me that this many costumes must’ve taken her ages. “This sort of thing must take a lot of time. Thanks for, um...”
“ ... Dressing all your friends up to look hot?” There was laughter in her eyes.
For the moment, at least, I had enough wherewithal to keep that from putting me off balance. “ ... I was going to go with helping us all get into character, but sure, that too.”
“Well, you’re welcome.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Hopefully all the costumes fit.”
“I’m, uh, sure they’ll be great.”
“If yours doesn’t fit, I might actually need that reference photo I asked for, in more fitted clothing so I can see your body proportions better. You can just refer back to the one I sent you, if you’re not sure what sort of things to wear.” Her eyes were knowing, now.
I flushed. “I, uh-”
“You two stop flirting with each other and c’mon,” Fiona said, impatiently.
“Oh, shut up, Fiona.” Monica rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother us because your little boytoy isn’t here yet to play with.” She headed up the walk as Fiona knocked on the door.
I shook my head. “You two should-”
Liz opened the door.
Fiona and I stared.
Liz was already dressed up.
She had what must be a blonde wig on; wavy golden hair spilled down her back.
She was wearing some kind of flowy, fiery orange dress. It was loose enough that it appeared to be at risk of just falling off her body. And while the dress was not quite totally see-through, the material had a kind of diaphanous translucence to it. The straps of some kind of bikini were visible underneath at her hips and breasts.
“Wow,” Fiona was admiring. “You look hot, Liz.”
I had to agree.
Monica, on the other hand, just looked irritated. “I thought you were going to wear the costume I made for Chris’s patron this session! This took a lot of time to make, and it isn’t simple to put on.”
“It’ll get put on eventually, okay? It’s a long session.” Liz raised her hands in a placating gesture. “But the High Priestess is pretty important to kick things off.”
“Okay.” Monica was only slightly mollified.
“I’m sorry, this is what a priestess wears?” Fiona’s voice was disbelieving.
“Look, she hasn’t taken a vow of celibacy, and it’s hot in the desert.” Liz gave her a wink.
Fiona giggled.
I followed them all inside, happy not to have to weigh in, watching Liz’s ass shifting under the thin material of the dress.
Mike showed up a moment later, his attention torn between ogling Liz and trying to make hopeful conversation with Fiona.
Monica doled out a tote bag for everyone, including Liz.
Liz made us all drinks as we caught up and chatted; the small talk went on and on, since this was the first time we’d all been together in quite a while.
I waited, impatiently listening to Mike talk about some new video game he’d gotten into for as long as I could stand it. But eventually, I had to ask Liz the question that had been sitting in the back of my mind this whole time.
Ever since Mike had walked through the door and Liz had started acting like we were all here.
“So ... Liz, is Erin playing or what?”
Everybody else stopped talking, looking over to see how she’d answer.
Liz sighed. “Look, I talked with her last week and put the screws to her on whether she is going to play or not. It turns out she is really busy with work; some new... product... launch? Or something. I don’t know the details.”
My heart sank. I didn’t believe that for a second.
Liz continued. “Anyway, she didn’t think it would be fair to us to make a character if she can’t make it to sessions consistently. So she might join the campaign a little late or something. Like you did with Monica’s, Chris.”
Fiona shrugged. “Too bad.”
Mike looked torn.
I just nodded, feeling crestfallen. Erin must be really hurt.
Liz gave me a sympathetic smile.
“Too bad.” Monica echoed Fiona’s words, though there was something odd in her voice.
Liz clapped her hands. “On that note, we’re going to get started. Monica, do folks need help getting into costume, or is it all pretty self-explanatory?”
“Well...” Monica hesitated. “Some of them are complicated. Let’s go one at a time and let’s find out.”
“Like a fashion show!” Fiona cheered.
“Monica, how am I supposed to even fit into this?” It was Fiona, from Liz’s little first-floor bathroom. She had volunteered to change first.
“There’s a hidden zipper on the side,” Monica called.
“Yeah, well, it’s too hidden,” Fiona said, irritably.
Rolling her eyes, Monica went to help.
It meant that, suddenly, Liz, Mike and I were left alone. The three of us looked at each other uncertainly, all of us clearly having the same thought: this was the first time it had been only the three of us in quite a while.
“Look,” Liz said, hurriedly. “I don’t know if we’ll have another chance to discuss amongst only the three of us, so I’m going to talk fast. I am planning to confront some... themes, in this game, that I think will help us get past the last campaign.”
Mike’s expression was reluctant, like this was the very last thing he wanted to talk about. I just nodded, slowly.
Liz’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of us. “My goal is that it’s fun, but things might get charged, or complicated. And it might not always be apparent what I’m doing or why I’m doing it.”
I blinked at that, immediately thinking of the blowjob she’d given me during character creation.
“So if either of you are uncomfortable at all, I want you to tell me, okay? Or just say ‘hey, I need a minute’ or ‘Liz, can we sidebar for a sec?’ or anything. I will stop things or figure out some way to redirect. I’ve said the same thing to Monica and Fiona, but given the dynamics in the last game, I’m most concerned about the two of you.”
“Okay.” Mike looked discomfited, perhaps worried Liz would start asking about specifics ... like his apparent humiliation kink.
But Liz didn’t elaborate. She looked at me, waiting for me to acknowledge what she’d said.
“That makes sense. Thanks, Liz.” I meant it.
She nodded. “Of course. Look ... I want to tackle this stuff, but we all have to acknowledge that how heated last campaign got was fun a lot of the time, right? I just want to make sure it stays fun.”
We both nodded at that.
Liz hesitated, then started again. “And look, the three of us -- and Erin -- have to get over-”
Liz cut off abruptly as Monica cracked open the bathroom door. “I present Fleur, paladin of the Sun!”
Fiona dramatically... flounced out of the bathroom.
The skimpy costume Monica had created for Fleur featured a little leather miniskirt that sat low, emphasizing her hips. It didn’t even reach to mid-thigh on Fiona, showing off long, slim, tawny-brown legs. A pair of heeled, knee-high boots really emphasized just how much upper thigh was visible.
A few inches of flat stomach were exposed. Above that, she was wearing a kind of sleeveless sheath of plate armor that began just above her belly button and ended just below her collarbone, leaving her upper-chest and shoulders bare. A golden choker -- with an emblem of the sun -- rested around her neck.
She looked ... well, like a really hot paladin. One who wasn’t unduly concerned with propriety or being well-armored.
“God damn,” I heard Mike whisper, from next to me.
Fiona heard it too, and favored him with a winning smile. “Glad you like it, Mike.” Her lips were done in a shade of bright red that suited her skin perfectly, and her dark hair was back in a high ponytail. She blew Mike a kiss, and then glanced at me and Liz coyly. “What do you guys think?”
She was hot, no question, but I reined in my reaction -- I didn’t need to piss off Mike – so I opted for a joke instead. “You look great, Fiona. Um ... quite a few places where a slice from a sword would really hurt ... what was your character’s armor class, again?”
Liz snorted.
“Fleur’s faith is her shield!” Fiona said, mock-affront on her face.
“Touché,” I said, amused.
“I’ll go next.” It was Monica, impatient. She grabbed her own tote bag and headed for the bathroom.
“So, uh, did you plan this outfit, or did Monica?” Mike asked. He was staring at Fiona’s exposed midriff.
Fiona shrugged. “I left it up to Monica. I just told her about my character and let her decide. She’s done a bunch of outfits for me at this point and never steered me wrong.”
“ ... Remind me what you do for work again?” It was Liz, curious.
Fiona shrugged. “Social media stuff ... but Monica’s roped me into a bunch of her cosplay projects.”
Liz laughed. “Yeah, I can see how you’d crush it in the cosplay scene.”
“I do seem to do well with horny nerds,” Fiona observed. Her eyes were on Mike for a long moment, and he flushed. “I’ve won a contest or two, even.”
“I believe it. You’d look good as a lot of characters,” Mike ventured.
“Anyone in particular you’d like to see me dressed up as?” Fiona was amused. “I’ve done-”
The bathroom door opened and we all looked up.
It was Monica, but ... not.
Tight leather pants clung to her legs, but her torso was mostly bare. She had a bikini that looked like it had probably begun its life as part of a Princess Leia costume, all gold whorls. Monica had given it a glow-up, adding some chainmail embellishments and stylized golden sunbursts. The chainmail went lower, below the bikini, giving the garment a little more coverage ... but not much.
Besides that, she was wearing a hooded cape, red with gold trim, that was made of some light fabric. A little gold band through her dark hair completed the outfit.
“I knew it’d be a chainmail bikini,” Liz muttered, quietly. She was sitting next to me, and I doubted anyone else but me could hear the irritation in her voice.
“Your tits, Monica,” Fiona breathed. “Jesus.”
Fiona put my internal monologue into words perfectly. Monica’s bikini was precisely calibrated to show off her breasts, gathering her tits up and together into a massive, full shelf, with a deep valley of cleavage in the middle.
Monica took her cape, gave a little flourish with it, and curtseyed. “Everyone, meet Maye.” The tenor of her voice had gone supercilious, arrogant -- like she was sure she was smarter, better than the rest of us. “Cleric of the Sun.”
I was too busy watching her tits -- the way they shifted in her top as she curtseyed -- to respond.
“Mike and Chris must not like it, they haven’t said anything.” Fiona said, teasing.
“I-it’s... good...” Mike said, hastily.
“Good, is it? Do you think her costume better than mine, Mike?” Fiona asked the question with a twinkle in her eye.
“Uh, I, no ... that’s, I-I mean-” Mike stumbled his way into silence, reddening.
Liz just rolled her eyes and interrupted. “OKay, who’s next? At this rate it’ll be dinnertime before we start playing.”
“I’ll go,” I volunteered.
“Great,” Monica said. “Let me know if you have trouble with any of it. While he does that, Liz, let me show you the patron costume so you know how to change into it later on.”
I went into the bathroom with the tote that Monica had handed me. I could hear the indistinct chatter of my friends outside. Fiona making some giggling comment, Mike responding in protest. Monica and Liz having some conversation about the various garments in the patron outfit.
But I lost track of their conversations as I pulled out the various components from the tote bag.
It was a lot more complicated than my paladin’s costume.
There was a set of tunic/robe garments, in four different pieces that seemed intended to layer on top of each other, all white and gold, with an eye-and-feathers motif.
And a wig, of tousled white hair.
And some elven ear prosthetics.
And some golden vambraces.
... And some cosmetic gold contact lenses.
Jeez. Monica had really gone all-out. It was really impressive.
I blinked, slowly, and started undressing.
It only took a few tries before I realized I had no hope of figuring out how all the different garments were supposed to layer on top of each other. “Um, Monica? What order do these go on in?”
“The base layer first, obviously.”
I blinked. It was completely unclear to me which of these was the base layer.
“Uh-”
“Ha, I figured. One sec, I’m coming.”
I heard her moving across the room and glanced down at myself, suddenly panicked. I’d been expecting her to just shout some advice, not barge into the bathroom with me. I was about to be alone in this bathroom with Monica, and I wasn’t wearing-
The door cracked open and she slipped inside.
Pants. I wasn’t wearing pants.
Liz’s first floor bathroom was small; she was standing half a foot away, maybe, the two of us chest-to-chest.
She glanced down at me. I was wearing what I’d thought was the base layer, a kind of loose robe. I’d stripped off my jeans and my t-shirt to start putting it on; I’d left my boxers on. It came down to my thighs at least, but no further.
Monica glanced down, taking in my state of undress, and raised an eyebrow. “What you’re wearing actually goes on second,” she murmured. She held up one of the other garments. “This first.”
She waited, expectant.
“Oh, uh ... okay.” I mumbled the words out, distracted by her proximity. This close, I had the perfect angle to see down that little bikini top.
Monica eyed me. “You know, you never said anything about my character’s outfit. What do you think? Too many places a sword could do damage, like Fiona’s?” Her tone was light, suggestive.
Fuck it. Why be embarrassed?
“You already know what I think. You look hot, Monica.” I said it hoarsely, but at least kept my voice level.
“Mm. I figured, but it was nice to hear you say it.” She favored me with a satisfied little smile. “Now. Let’s do the contacts and wig first to see if they bother you.” She picked up the little case and held it out to me.
It felt weird -- I didn’t wear contacts normally -- but they were more straightforward than I expected, and didn’t irritate me much.
I turned around, blinking at her as I adjusted to the sensation.
“Ooh.” She was pleased. “Very nice. Arresting. Now, the wig...”
She craned up, adjusting my hair so it sat right.
Her face was inches from mine, and the way she pursing her lips in concentration drew my attention to her mouth.
Kissing her would be easy. I was tempted to do it, just to see how she’d react.
In fact, thinking about it... we’d never kissed, I realized. It bothered me, for some reason; went along perfectly with the train of thought I’d had the other day, about how I wasn’t really ... treating Monica as a person. It underscored the lack of intimacy in what we’d been doing.
No connection. Just sex and power games.
“ ... We’ll do the ears after you get all the clothing on, I think. Otherwise you might knock them out of place.”
I snapped my attention back to Monica, who looking at me expectantly.
I was ready to be rid of her. “ ... I can probably take it from here.”
“No you can’t. You don’t know the other the other two go on, do you?” Her lips curved into a smile, and her answer was a whisper. “Besides, don’t you want me to stay and help?”
My cock lurched at the tone in her voice, at her proximity.