A New Dress

The smell of cum: salty sweet with a hint of something acidic, assaulted Miri’s nostrils before her eyes even cracked open. She didn’t mind the masculine scent; the reminder serving to stimulate her moist pussy. Shifting her shoulders square in an attempt to grind her thighs together, Miri felt the floor beneath her gently rocking. Someone had laid a light blanket over her otherwise naked body; it stuck to her chest where Captain Max showered his seed on her. Similarly, her face felt sticky: dried spit and cum had not quite dried in the humid heat, mixing with natural sweat, making her face shine with sin. Yawning, Miri opened her lovely brown eyes, calmly examining the wagon tarp overhead. Surrounded by crates, Miri arched her back, further taking inventory of her newfound environment. Far as she could tell, it was a normal wagon; no label or crate stuck out. She half expected a package labelled Diamond Dust or Illicit Material. Sitting up, she grew thankful; whoever had placed her here had also put a pillow under her head and a bedroll underneath. Finding it odd, she could still see, meaning the sun still shone outside, Miri headed toward the front of the wagon, looking for her clothes.

She found them on top of the nearest crate, folded and weighted by a small wooden black box. Curious, Miri opened the box to discover sixteen makeup slots, a small mirror, three different lipsticks, and a makeup brush. The lining was made of some unknown velvet like substance that felt good to the touch. Investigating further, Miri found the mirror came out easily, revealing a large, shallow hole; perfect to hold a small emergency stash of coins.

Smiling at the considerate treatment and thoughtful gift, Miri looked through her clothes. In addition to her old outfit, someone had laid out a long white cotton dress. It was a bland thing. Solid, the dress would conceal her lovely curves, cloth covering every square inch of her from the neck down. Holding it up, Miri had a feeling the dress fit the fashion vogue of Midguard; or at least Greenwater. Bending down, Miri pulled out her anklet dagger, unfolding it with a snap. Speaking softly, Miri asked Aiano, “Was my sexual deviancy earlier worth it?”

“That I cannot tell, my lady. Only you can evaluate worth in relation to yourself. However, yes. To put it in terms I think you’ll understand, that felt like a cheeseburger… Unfortunately, it feels like a light rain compared to the lake of my hunger.”

“Well, aren’t you just the bearer of good news,” Miri sighed sardonically. Measuring the dress against her body, Miri marked the dress near the midway point with red lipstick from her new makeup kit. A bit softer in tone, Miri continued, “Sorry. I’m not mad, you just always give the same answer… I’m surprised I can even walk to be honest. That blonde guy fucked up my ass. Anders felt like half that man in length and size, and every time we did it there, I had a hard time walking for days.”

“Thank you for your empathy, Miriamelle. I appreciate all you’re going through. I don’t have a good answer, but I suspect someone ****-fed you a health potion.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a potion, usually vibrant red in color, that immediately and exponentially speeds up the bodies natural healing factor for a few seconds. Depending on the strength of the potion, it can heal anything from a small cut to seemingly fatal wounds.”

“Ah. I suppose we owe much to Dazar, then?” Miri pondered thoughtfully, cutting a straight line-up the pant-leg of the dress.

“Indeed. We got lucky stumbling upon him like we did.”

“Midriff cut or cleavage? I think he’s a good man underneath that gruff demeanor,” Miri pointed with her knife at the neck-hole and where her navel would sit, respectively.

“Hmm. Midriff. Your bosom is lovely enough without needing to draw explicit attention. May I ask where you learned this skill?”

“Of course. No sense keeping secrets if we’re going to be connected,” Miri traced out a semicircle in the middle section of the dress with the lipstick. After a moment's pause, she tried to keep a neutral tone, failing halfway through, “Mom. No, Sophie, thought any woman worth her salt ought to be able to sew. I had a natural talent for it; I spent all freshman year in high school making my own prom dress.”

“That dress must have been very beautiful.”

“It was. White, with inlaid mother-of-pearl I had inlaid the petticoats light blue, red, and accented it white. The dress line fit perfectly,” Miri allowed a note of pride to enter her voice. Miri placed the makeup box in between the front and back of the dress, allowing her to cut with impunity.

“I imagine you lit up the dance floor.”

Closing her eyes, Miri set the knife down mid-stroke. Painfully, she admitted, “No. Sophie sold my dress. Instead, she made me go in a fifty-dollar rental. Apparently, Mike and Sophie took their natural son, Dustin, to Thailand for a week.”

“I’m sorry. Was the trip enjoyable at least?”

Finishing cutting, Miri held it up to her chest. Satisfied, she slipped it on. Miriamelle frowned at nothing in particular and angrily demanded, “Let’s drop this. I won’t be a victim again, and I’m not drunk enough to talk about this shit.”

Miri put on her socks and shoes. “Look, Aiano. I don’t mean to be rude, but my adopted family are assholes. They punched down on me, and those memories hurt like hell. I appreciate the interest, but I am who I am because of the choices I make and will continue to make.”

“Yes, my lady. Apologies for prying into painful material. Since we’re stuck together, I would be honored if at some point you trust me with your past. I may not be good for much, but I can listen.”

Touched by its gesture, Miri smiled wanly and hugged herself. “I can’t exactly touch you, but thank you, Aiano.”

Dressed, Miri looked down, admiring her toned abdomen poking through the white dress. Twisting her right leg, the one she hid the anklet on, Miri nodded appreciatively as the long slit erotically revealing calf, knee, thigh, and outside hip. Should she so desire it, of course? Frowning at the dress’s ugly arms, she unbuttoned the wrist buttons. Gauging the heft of the billowy material, Miri pulled the forearms tight. Counting to five, she cut a long strip from elbow to wrist. She repeated the action on the other side. Then she took the dress off. Working quickly, she pulled on the stretchy cotton material on the forearm, it opened considerably. When she was satisfied, Miri looked around for a heat source. Spotting a lantern nearby, Miri investigated, finding it inbuilt with a flint. After lighting the candle, Miri heated her knife, singing softly to herself. When she deemed the weapon hot enough, she singed the cuts on the dress she had made, sealing them.

Satisfied with her work, Miri slipped the white dress on. Blowing impatiently on the hot knife, Miriamelle pouted. The silvery weapon, too hot to effectively handle or wrap around her skin, Miri laid it to rest next to her leather jacket and makeup kit. Then she headed up to the front of the wagon and opened the dividing curtain.