A Buxom Female Half-Elf with Noble Blood

Your mother had been a buxom blonde Human barmaid working in a small village's tavern... sometimes also working as a dancer, or in the backrooms... and your father was a traveling Elven Noble. They spent a long drunken lust filled week together while the Elf recovered from an encounter with a battle with a Succubus, and from that week you had been born... and the money from that week paid for your mother's new house. You had inherited your mother's golden blonde hair and tanned skin... but everything else about you screamed Elf.

Your long, slender ears, your pretty face, and soft voice. You even had the same shining pink eyes of your father. Your mother named you Pinky, and the regulars at the tavern often bought you clothes in that shade. You spent a happy childhood growing up in and around the tavern. So much so that you eventually started to work there.

This tavern was located near a small road in a sparsely populated forested area within the Human Kingdom of Morthem. There were no large settlements near this tavern, only some small forests and Human villages. A few days' journey to the east was one of the two surviving Elven States in this world - the Great Domain of Loten-Rael. You were not distinguished by intelligence and curiosity and therefore you knew little about this state of the Elves. In addition to the well-known facts: the Elves who live there really do not like those who are not Elves; Elves try not to let anyone into their territory unless absolutely necessary.

Your mother despaired, as having such a pretty co-worker led to her working in the backroom with 'friendly' customers. Some good potions stopped further babies, but when your chest developed, you made your poor mother's quite hefty rack look flat. Your rear was incredibly large too.

Your mother tragically disappeared without warning one day. Some whispered she'd run off with some Non-Human denizens of the forest to become an Immortal Broodmother rather than deal with the shame of sinking into further degrading work because of her much more alluring daughter. You were on your own, so Old Dobbert the tavern owner had you take your mother's place. It was easy to do, you weren't an especially bright young woman, and your curiosity about the backrooms had led to numerous embarrassing moments of self-pleasure that Old Dobbert caught you in the middle of.

Your exotic nature and curvy figure made you a natural for serving, with many drunken men flirting and tipping you heavily for letting them run their hands all over you. Recently, you had finally lost your virginity, a pair of drunken farmers had tried to you in the main tavern area. Luckily they had money and were able to take you into the backrooms to the applause of all the men. Many had known you since you were a baby. After that, Old Dobbert had decided that you were ready to take over all your mother's old jobs at the tavern.

Dancing came easily despite your curves, thanks to Elven Grace. Your songs could have been more popular if they hadn't all been about being a slut and sucking and fucking. The tavern began offering handjobs alongside drinks and meals. And the more private booths allowed blowjobs to be purchased.

Obviously, some guests wanted more... and they got very horny when they parted your thick thighs to find a wet and obscenely plump, puffy, pussy. And so it went. Old Dobbert was replaced by his son, Young Dobbert. He became Old Dobbert and was replaced by his son Bobbert. By the time he became Old Bobbert, you were a well-known, well-developed tavern whore.

During the day, you were out running errands for Old Bobbert, where you used the skills you'd developed as a tavern whore to get discounts from the beermakers, the winesellers, the farmers, and the carpenters that fixed tables broken by customers and beds broken by you. Young Bobbert, not yet the owner of the tavern but handling the finances, was going to be very pleased with the coin you had saved him... and he was still grinning from the night you deflowered him.

You swayed your hips as you strutted down the road, as sun began to set. The air was was warm and dry for autumn, and it was going to be nice to celebrate the coming of winter soon. The villagers would dress as Dire Reindeer and dress you as one of Wotan Klaus' wife and try to breed you for a pleasant winter and bountiful Gifting Day.

How many children did you have? Wasn't Old Bobbert's wife one? Or was it Old Dobbert the second? Or Young Bobbert? Whatever it was, your body had only become thicker and more alluring. Your nippled had thickened into virtually bovine teats, and the owner of the tavern had made the decision to keep you lactating so they could sell your milk.

As you turned the corner to reach the tavern, you saw the light green hides of horses from the Elven Courts. The golden glow of their armour, and the dark smoke billowing from their nostrils made them look truly magical.

“Oh Stars Above!” you gasp in shock, breaking into a run as apart of you knew this had to be about you. You clutch the pendant hanging from your neck, the only gift left by your father aside from the money he paid to fuck your mother.

In the tavern, an Elven Lord had a blade held to the throat of Young Bobbert, Old Bobbert was on the floor. Dead. The tavern was otherwise empty. The Elven Lord's guards turned and saw you and your pendant, leading to the Captain to step towards the Elven Lord and point you out.

His eyes took in your appearance and locked onto your pendant. He wiped his blade on Young Bobbert's shoulder before sheathing it and walked over to you.

"Daughter of the late Duke Pinkan Sapphireus, I am Count Tourmaline." He was pale and tall, with long black hair, and his eyes had a pinkish hue that wasn't quite as brilliant as yours. "It is with great sorrow I must inform you of your father's . As his only known child, you are heiress to his Lordship, Lands, Vassals, and Wealth." You got the feeling he was younger than you, and despite his height and evidence of his ability to use a sword, he looked quite feminine. But he carried himself in a way far more wise and regal than a simple tavern whore like you. Wait... what did he say about your father being a Duke? And dead? And-

You? A Duchess?

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