[Side Story] Rosalind’s Day Off

Rosalind began her regular patrol, greeting any villagers she met along the way. She would always ask them if they had any problems, even though they never answered with anything too serious. She would usually end up mediating and resolving some petty arguments or help lift heavy crates. It was a peaceful village, which made it great and boring at the same time.

Boredom. Boredom was not just unpleasant, but dangerous. She knew stories of hermits who had cut themselves off of human contact, only to be discovered as mad lunatics. It wasn’t just stories though. Prisoners would often be punished by being placed in solitary isolation. It was more effective than **** at getting prisoners to follow orders by instelling fear. There were also stories of cruel guards who would destroy the minds of their prisoners using this method.

Rosalind was worried that she was being afflicted by something similar. Rosalind was certainly not solitary, far from it in fact, as there were many people she was growing close to in Knottori. She was becoming a part of the community, hardly what anyone would call isolated. However, she was isolated in a different way. She had to stay in Knottori. Even though she didn’t think it was all that bad, it was still a great restriction on her and her dreams. The biggest problem she constantly faced was boredom, which had become a part of her daily routine. Rosalind feared that it was wearing upon her, that she was beginning to break down just like those prisoners and hermits.

Rosalind continued her patrol, skirting the treeline to check for any signs of dangerous animals, monsters, or bandits. There were only tracks from harmless things like deer and rabbits, nothing of note. She continued back to the path, and resumed her thoughts.

A slow and peaceful life suited some, like the previous knight stationed at the village, but Rosalind had a fire inside her, a fire that led her to try to become a hero. It burned with heat and passion, but it was bottled up in Knottori, growing more restless and impatient. It yearned for adventure, for glory. Rosalind knew that she could be slaying monsters and demons, saving lives, and creating epic tales and stories. But she was here, stuck. The fire resented that, and continued to burn inside of Rosalind. She feared that it had begun to burn away at her own sanity.

The past few months, as her sentence in Knottori wore on, she had been feeling… different. She had a growing feeling that she was becoming detached from reality. Sometimes, even when she was wide awake, she felt like she was dreaming. Her recent memories had started to become indistinguishable from dreams, and she couldn’t easily discern real events from imagined ones.

Sometimes she had to ask others if what she remembered really happened, since it seemed too strange to be real, but most of the time it was indeed real. Honestly, the real memories had a certain feeling about them that made them different from dreams, but Rosalind didn’t want to trust any feelings right now. Everything just felt so mixed up and messy. Her life used to be like a powerful river, simple and powerful, but now it was a mess of churning rapids and swirling whirlpools.

Rosalind’s patrol continued, and she reached one of the abandoned buildings that she regularly checked and had to put her thoughts aside. It was just as old, run-down, and abandoned as it was last time, and the time before. She left the building behind her and continued onwards.

In truth, she knew that what she did, what she said, and how she acted was real, but that was the worst part. She wished it was confined to the realm of dreams, ones that she would wake up and forget in the morning. The fact that it was her waking life was the terrifying part. Those actions, those words, those feelings felt so strange… so wrong to her. Before, it was like she was moving to the same music her whole life, a familiar style, beat, and harmony of instruments. But the music was different now, unfamiliar and disorienting. She felt like the beat was off and the instruments were dissonant with each other, clashing and creating an awful, dizzying noise in her head.

Rosalind knew she was acting differently compared to when she arrived in Knottori. She had developed little habits and behaviors that frankly confused and even disgusted her at times.

Rosalind used to hate the taste of **** like beer. It burned the tongue and tasted sour and gross. Strangely though, she had recently become a regular at the inn, one that would take a generous portion of the night’s drinks as her own. She would often guzzle down beer, getting shamefully drunk, and acting like an absolute fool.

There was another aspect of herself that she struggled to understand. She was energetic and confident in everything that she did, fearing nothing and no one. For some reason though, her practice of magic was fraught with anxiety and nervousness. She was calm and at peace when reading the books about magic, but actually performing it brought up these uneasy feelings within her. She felt stress and pressure as the practiced magic, fearing failure. Occasionally this would spill over into interactions with people as well, as she would struggle to **** words out of her mouth, even with people that she thought she was comfortable with.

More changes in her behavior had surprised Rosalind. She used to try to make every minute and every second matter. Whenever there was down time, she would use it to train her skills or her body. However, for some reason she had gotten into the habit of lazing around, taking breaks during patrols and napping under trees or abandoned buildings. The misfit boys’ base was a frequent spot, as it had a bed that she could use.

Even through her personal turmoil, she was glad that her relationship with the misfit boys had improved drastically. They treated her as one of their own at times, and she felt like she was part of the group too. They let her into the base whenever she wanted, and trusted her in there alone.

While she was thinking of the base, she had coincidentally arrived at it. Even though it was supposed to be a secret, it was still a part of the routine checks around the village. Rosalind took a quick peak inside the open window, and saw that it was empty. She continued onwards on her patrol, and her self reflection.

Embarrassingly, she had also developed another shameful habit. Perhaps it was because of all the energy in her body being unused, but her libido had increased, uh, a lot. She would occasionally catch herself sneaking lustful looks at the attractive village girls, even the village school’s teacher, who was very popular among the students for her beauty.

Rosalind’s increased libido didn’t just stop at that though. She was… pleasuring herself more regularly. Not only was it more frequent, but more intense, almost **** at times. She could usually keep it under control, but sometimes she felt the need so badly that she did it in less than private places. She felt incredibly shameful about this, but it kept happening no matter how much shame she felt. When she was alone, she even did it in the misfit boys’ base, a fact that disgusted her. She wanted to become their friend, gain their trust, but she repaid it by defiling their sanctuary.

The habit became somewhat regular, a guilty secret that she hoped no one would ever find. She even made use of one of their possessions. There was a crate at the foot of the bed that the boys explicitly forbid her from looking in, and she respected that. Everyone needed their privacy, and infringing on that would certainly hurt the boys and lose their trust. However, one particular day where she felt more desire than her fingers could satisfy, so she laid her hands on the pink crystal that had been left around.

It was smooth and rounded, about the size of a small egg. Barnabas had asked one of the villagers who traveled to Lindow for a favor. He wanted a small magic catalyst to practice with, and provided his saved up money to pay for it. He received a pink crystal catalyst, and practiced engraving on it. The size of the catalyst was too small for anything powerful, or even useful, so the spells that it could power were limited. Barnabas decided to go with a pretty safe one, a spell to make the crystal vibrate. It was useful for practicing magic flow control, as the more magic power that was channeled from the user into the engraved crystal, the harder it would vibrate, dispersing the energy in a safe manner.

Rosalind’s face began to blush as she continued to walk. She found that reflecting on this part of herself was embarrassing, but still important. She continued to recall her shameful past as she kept patrolling.

Rosalind took the crystal that Barnabas practiced with, and used it to stimulate herself. She held it against her nipples, which had gotten more sensitive the more they were used during her self pleasuring sessions. She didn’t let it end there though, as once she felt warmed up enough, she pressed it against her lower lips. The pleasure she felt from this was the strongest she had felt yet, made more intense by the guilt she felt by using it.

During further sessions, she would experiment on herself, finding and exploiting her sensitive zones with the pink crystal, learning what was irresistible for her own body. She had experimented with holding it against her clitoris, which was often too much for her and led to a quick and intense ending. She had discovered a sweet spot within herself that was sensitive, but not too much that it was uncontrollable. She would stimulate it for as long as she could handle, building up pleasure as high as it would go, and releasing in a body rocking orgasm. She spent time not only mastering her magic flow to the crystal, but also mastering her own body. She timed the crystal’s intensity to what she discovered worked best for her to produce more and more pleasurable results.

She had also experimented with putting the crystal in as deep as it would go, feeling it press against the entrance of her womb, vibrations piercing through it and sending sensation through her entire lower abdomen. The feeling was not as directly pleasurable as stimulating her sweet spot, but it gave a new, strange sensation that was addictive and intense. She felt that she could potentially develop it to be even better than her current most sensitive zones, like how her nipples’ increased sensitivity with usage.

Even though she had developed such shameful habits, there were occasions where she tried particularly deviant activities that weren’t a part of her regular routine. One time, she had the strong desire to be filled, a desire that her fingers and the pink crystal could not satisfy alone. She was resourceful and found Ricard’s sword mounted to the wall. She placed the pink crystal within herself, and used the handle of Ricard’s sword as a tool of pleasure. She pumped it in and out of herself, pressing the butt of the handle against the vibrating crystal embedded deep within her. The act created an incredible pleasure from the double stimulation. The orgasm from that experiment was very intense and exhausting, as she could barely use her arms or legs afterwards.

Rosalind slowed her walking pace. She was getting a little too turned on by her self reflection. She took a moment to slow her breathing and calm her body down. She focussed on walking, just walking. Step by step, she continued her patrol. After she felt like she got a hold of herself, she continued her reflection.

The incident with the wooden sword was not the only notable deviant act that she had performed. Another time, she placed the pink crystal inside of her, re-equipped her clothes, and traveled to the bakery with the magic tool vibrating inside of her. As she walked in public, passing by multiple villagers, she felt it’s presence inside of her with every step, how it moved and pushed against her insides as her legs moved and hips swayed. She felt their gaze upon her differently, as it made her heart beat harder and made her body heat up even more. When she arrived at the bakery, she was nearly ready to climax, but held on.

She ordered a sausage roll and chatted with the baker as she varied the crystal’s intensity inside her to keep herself on edge. Once she felt like she could hold on no longer, she pushed as much magic power into it as she could, and she felt it respond by wildly dancing around inside of her. She had to clench her jaw hard to avoid moaning loudly in front of the baker, who was talking idly about her husband, completely unaware of the sheer amount of pleasure that was exploding in front of her. Rosalind felt waves of pleasure spasming and pulsating out of her lower region, nearly buckling her legs as she had to use the bakery counter as support. The fact that she was doing this in public, right in front of the innocent, pretty baker, with her being completely unaware of this degenerate act made it perhaps the most intense orgasm she had ever felt.

The heat was back again. Rosalind was still on patrol though, and didn’t want to satisfy herself while on duty. But then again, she had already done so many times in the past, so why not again? She checked her surroundings. Unsurprisingly, there was not a soul around. She moved into the treeline, and found a spot that would suit her needs. She began to stimulate her nipples, which quickly responded by sending pleasure back to her. She used both hands the pinch, flick, and circle around them, enjoying how sensitive they had become.

One hand abandoned its post, just as Rosalind had, and moved downwards, finding its destination already soaking wet. She began working herself keeping one hand on her breast and the other between her legs. She pushed her fingers into the spots that she had trained and mastered, teasing and rubbing herself skillfully, just like how her body loved. She felt that her body hungered for more, but she did the best with what had at hand. She just wanted to clear away the heat, the lust that was building up inside of her. She quickened her pace, getting more intense with herself until her body reached climax, sending clear and unfiltered pleasure into her head.

She cleaned herself up and tidied her clothes up. One of the most worrying changes during her period of sexual awakening in the past few months was within her mind. Whenever she had done the deed to herself before, it was to the image of Earnest. Her thoughts were full of love and excitement towards him, and also towards the body that he had trained just to stay with her. However, the image in her mind had changed from Earnest to something very different. The images and ideas that played in her head involuntarily were of attractive women.

She would often find her head filled with images of the women in the village when she was pleasuring herself, but most strangely, the woman that seemed to turn Rosalind on the most was… herself. The idea of violating and pleasuring herself was what brought her the most excitement. Looking down and seeing her hands fondling her breasts, her own fingers teasing her nipples got her hot, and seeing her hands work furiously between her own legs were another pleasure in itself. She didn’t understand this strange self-obsession, as she would even catch herself checking herself out at times. There were even times where she would strip naked and appreciate her own body. She would pose, looking over every inch of skin she could see. She would even flex and move her muscles, marveling at them, often feeling up her own abdominal muscles on her stomach. Sometimes she would even give her own ass a firm grasp, or even spank it.

Rosalind scolded herself. She had just cleared her head, but the heat was already starting to hum in the back of her head again. She slapped both her hands against her face, and addressed herself aloud.

“C’mon Rosalind, discipline. You’re better than this.”

Rosalind continued her patrol, bothered by the increased sensitivity that her recent release caused. She was worried about herself as she was now, and how she would be in the future. She wondered if Earnest would even be able to recognize her if she saw him again.