Bargain for the dagger

Waking up was painful. Memories of the previous day flooded your mind in chaotic disorder, and on retrospect you saw how much could have gone wrong. But it didn't, which just proved how worthy you were of your ancestor's power.

Myriam was nowhere to be seen. The little minx may be a hazard at times, but her simple ploys to seduce you into debauchery were a small price to pay for all the help. But for the next step, perhaps it would be best if you went on your own.

Luvas had been an apprentice tailor during your grandfather's time, and he was the one that kept the dagger safe when your grand-sire's enemies came to loot the mystical treasures left behind. He would be a far simpler guardian to deal with than the demons and undead horrors you were imagining.

His name was actually not unknown to you. The young apprentice grew to be an industrious journeyman, and an inventive master. His fashionable designs and smart cuts often drew scrutinity of religious authorities, but never enough to suffer the consequences.

Later you find yourself at his shop. It is discreet and clean, and most of the street noise is gone once you close the door behind you. The master is sitting on his chair, and stands to offer you a courteous bow as you enter.

"m'lady" he says "glad to have you here. I am sure I would remember your gracious face, I am Master Luvas" there is a youthful tone in his voice, and that stops the curse you were about to cast. Deciding to practice manners, you find yourself being measured by the old man.

"And which color should it be?" and your answer "Black, always black"

"Ah, you take after your mother" Unmasked! he confirms "of course I knew who you were, darling. A man is lucky to meet two such beauties in his lifetime". Denial was useless, conversation is tense as he continues his "work". Perhaps it would be best to curse his mind into obedience, but he solves your dilemma first "You are probably after your grandfather's dagger... I kept it safe, during all these years. I will hand it over to you, I merely ask that you allow me to dress you properly. These rags are beneath you."

You are suspicious, but the place is mundane. You weave some safeguard curses just in case, and accepts his offer. It wasn't unusual for some cultists to grow eccentric with age, and besides you did agree with him. The plain black robe was horrible and unconfortable.

The wait was a ****. He asked you to turn back and forth, sometimes raise your arm, sometimes strike a specific pose. On more than one occasion you were sure he was just feeling up your breasts or tights, but he just wouldnt follow up on the promise. Eventually he told you could sleep in a visitor's bed while he worked, he would tell you when he was done.

You wake up hours later. There is a warm cup of tea, a beautiful black dress, and a wicked looking blade. The Stygean dagger. You feel the eldritch puzzle inside the weapon, it would take hours, perhaps days of meditation to solve it.

The dress was nearly as complicated. The soft satin sent shivers down your spine as you caressed it, and you could spend hours simply admiring the lace that seemed so abundant. Forgetting the dagger for a moment, you strip out of your dress and make your steady progress to look like a goddess

The chemise clings close to your body, and there was no bodice to **** you. The undies had such an audacious shape, the fabric went almost in between the mounds of your pussy lips, and between your ass cheeks. And when you stepped in the shoes, and felt your ass properly lifted up...

...a wicked idea came to mind. It was a simple spell to make a mirror what it has seen in the past. And it was even simpler to just sway your body to the marvelous, erotic sensations swarming all over your body. Holding your arms up, and seeing your nipples clearly lined against the delicious fabric, you imagine him sitting on that bed, and dancing just inches from a mightily taunt erection. He would try to grab your tits when you danced close enough, but you would chastise him, and show just how you were the only one allowed to squeeze your breasts. Or would he try to enter your wet pussy? No, no, that is also impossible through the mirror that separates you, and the audience. You rub the satin over your swollen clit, trying your best not to make a noise, and attract an audience before the due time.

Never, ever, you think as you move from your pussy, to your ass. But spreading the cheeks feel so sexy now, and just wondering how it would feel to be penetrated in the dark hole exposed... a finger circles the entrance, and when you cant suppress a moan you decide enough is enough.

The rest of the dress is complex, but somehow you manage it. The dress evolve the feeling from sexy to gorgeous, and you feel bathed in authority as the dark fabric line your curves and project an aura of elegance, and innocence. The cloak is just a necessary modesty, to be able to walk in the street. The dagger, you sheath in one of your garters.

The next step is to recover an ancient grimoire that is reportedly in the possession of the infamous Dark Knight of Niran, you will need a champion if you hope to survive.