She may...

{if Connected: The Dean’s Daughter = 8}

"Good." The Dean’s Daughter celebrates your consent with a kiss. "I’m glad we could offer you a bit of hospitality at least. And I really should be off..." She gives you another kiss while freeing your cock. "But I deserve a taste. And the coachman can wait." She drops to her knees.

Cloak and jacket fall through smooth motion, folded in moments and building a neat pile. She is less careful with her shirt, ripping it open and revealing the naked breasts underneath. Her familiar peaks rise to greet you as she stiffens her spine and welcomes you into her mouth. You grow to bulging hardness under her ministrations and she, redoubling her efforts, takes you into her throat until your base touches her chin.

"Good." She spits you out, catching the overflow of drool and precum on her naked tits. "One more thing."

Smeared rings of red lipstick mark your length and she takes a moment to admire her work. Then a wrapper rips and her gentle lips envelop you inside a catgut condom. "You’ll need this if you’re gonna use her cunt."

"Would the gentleman like to use my cunt?"

The Devoted Domestic is on her back and on the bed, legs spread and panties pushed aside. She has loosened the laces and with her every breath her mounds threaten to spill from the immodest uniform. The Dean’s Daughter gives your protected tip one last lick before she shoves you towards the bed.

"He would."

You are pulled down, caught between Devoted Domestic’s legs and in her strong embrace. She kisses you, demanding as much from you as her mistress and more. Her fingers are on your back, moving and sneaking under your shirt. Low moans welcome you inside and gentle scratches urge you on. You thrust harder. A breast flops free and you suck the nipple while she lolls her tongue and drools.

"First Officer?" The Dean’s Daughter calls out for you. And again, louder. "First Officer!" She has cloaked herself to near respectability and reapplied her lipstick. Her luggage is gone from the door frame but she carries her briefcase, its corners stinging your back as she pulls you off her Domestic. "It is time." She embraces you, her gloved hand keeping your cock pointed towards the girl on her back. "I have to go. But I will think of you." Her breath is hot and her kisses come needful and sweet. "Have fun and cum for me." And she is gone.

"Ohhh!" The Devoted Domestic has spread her lower lips, fingering herself while waiting. "I wish I could make men feel the way – ahh!"

Your tip has her lose her train of thought and she writhes under you, her moans growing hotter and her breath growing flatter. She caresses your face with a limp and lazy palm, begging you for more with wide-open eyes. You lift her leg and bury yourself deeper. Soon wails and convulsions reward you. She comes, loud and wet.

"I..." She gasps for air. "I melt." She looks at you through downcast lashes and whispers. "Harder."

You oblige. Her panties rip like paper and her tits bounce with your thrusts.

"Ohhh! Fuck! I’m... Fucking – Again!"

You fondle her breasts, tweaking her over the edge. Her tightness burns around you, milking you deeper. Open lips demand a kiss and she catches your tongue until you unload inside her.

"Thank you, Sir." She glides to the floor. "Let me get that for you." Her hands and lips peel away the barrier and her limber tongue cleans the slime from your softening cock. "I hope you found the experience to your satisfaction." She smiles up at you through downcast eyes, then opens wide to slurp the rest of your load from the used condom.

You thank her and marvel.

"The gentleman is very kind. I am a poor vessel and a poor replacement for the mistress’ skill. I’ll go and get you that snack." She leaves, crawling then scrambling, her lips stained with your cum.

{else}

"Good. I’m glad we could offer you a bit of hospitality at least. And I really should be off. Here." The Dean’s Daughter hands you a catgut condom, her smile cloyingly sweet. "You’ll need this if you’re gonna use her cunt." She looks away to hide her frown and when she addresses you again the hard edge is gone from her voice. "It was good seeing you, First Officer. Don’t be a stranger, but I really must be off." She shakes your hand and hurries away.

"Would the gentleman like to use my cunt?"

The Devoted Domestic is on her back and on the bed, legs spread and panties pushed aside. She has loosened the laces and with her every breath her mounds threaten to spill free from the immodest uniform. Your approach has her turn, keeping your hardening cock away from her wetness with eager hands.

Soon smeared rings of red lipstick mark your length and she, smiling, gives you a moment to admire her work. Then a wrapper rips and her gentle lips envelop you inside a catgut condom. "The mistress says to use this if you wish to use my cunt. Would the gentleman like to do so now?"

You would.

The Devoted Domestic nods and turns, and then you are pulled down, caught between her legs and in a strong embrace. She kisses you, demanding as much from you as her mistress and more. Her fingers are on your back, moving and sneaking under your shirt. Low moans welcome you inside and gentle scratches urge you on. You thrust harder. A breast flops free, letting you suck the nipple while she lolls her tongue and drools.

"I hope you find this – poor replacement – ahh!"

Your tip has her lose her train of thought and she writhes under you, her moans growing hotter and her breath growing flatter. She caresses your face with a limp and lazy palm, begging you for more with wide-open eyes. You lift her leg and bury yourself deeper. Soon wails and convulsions reward you. She comes, loud and wet.

"I..." She gasps for air. "I melt." She looks at you through downcast lashes and whispers. "Harder."

You oblige. Her panties rip like paper and her tits bounce with your thrusts.

"Ohhh! Fuck! I’m... Fucking – Again!"

You fondle her breasts, tweaking her over the edge. Her tightness burns around you, milking you deeper. Open lips demand a kiss and she catches your tongue until you unload inside her.

"Thank you, Sir." She glides to the floor. "Let me get that for you." Her hands and lips peel away the barrier and her limber tongue cleans the slime from your softening cock. "I hope you found the experience to your satisfaction." She smiles up at you through downcast eyes, then opens wide to slurp the rest of your load from the used condom.

You thank her and marvel.

"The gentleman is very kind. I am a poor vessel and a poor replacement for the mistress’ skill. I’ll go and get you that snack." She leaves, crawling then scrambling, her lips stained with your cum.

{endif}

You do not have to wait long. She soon returns, clean and proper, to lead you downstairs to the dining room. Wine, tea, toasted mushroom and bread wait on the table, you sitting only at her urging. And the Devoted Domestic immediately flits away again, leaving you to test the excellent food.

Vegetal and floral notes mix with each sip. You are not hungry but exertion has left you parched. And the taste improves the more you drink. Tea, this trading taught you, needs mild sunlight and milder clime while what weak wine thrives on human lands produces a harsher harvest, sour not tart. You have been served Feyish viands – and even the flour for the golden bread has arrived from distant, star-kissed shores.

By the time she returns, carrying blood pudding and Paganberry compote on a silver tray, your testing has turned to feasting.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" The Devoted Domestic curtsies, food in hand. "Try some jam for your mushrooms. And some pudding for your constitution." She moves like a shadow and serves you like a whisper. "May I offer a suggestion? May I be so bold?"

Your mouth is too full with wine and tea, too full for discourtesy.