Stopping on the way

Count Tourmaline decided not to immediately take you to your father's Lands. Looking over your dress, and pointedly ignoring the traces of cum on your lips, your tits, and your dress, he decided you needed to be dressed as a Duchess and given some instruction in Elven Etiquette.

You were sad to leave your village, but the Elves had already killed Old Bobbert and you didn't think Young Bobbert would be happy to keep employing you after that.

You didn't expect the horses to talk. But they did. And the one you were given very loudly complained of how you reeked of dozens of men's seed. You blushed and Count Tourmaline announced they would stop at the next village instead of continuing onto the next city.

The village was one you had heard of in stories. There were no men, only women. Rumour had it that the women had sacrificed their men to a Forest Spirit for the ability to live their lives prosperously without husbands. Nobody knew what the price was, but the sacrifice had happened before you were born, so there had to be something to it.

Count Tourmaline explained he'd never stopped at the village before but your continued... state of dress... had to be addressed, he ended with a shudder. It might have confused you decades ago, but you'd eventually realised the casual use of you by your village was something exclusive to you, and perhaps your mother, not all women. And considering how all the stories of Elves were about how refined they were... you were a tavern whore.

The village was tidy, clean, and decorated with imagery of the goat. It seemed... odd. Locally, the Human God most affiliated with goats was Painal, the God of Masculinity, Nature, and Fertility. Most of his stories involved blessing lands and sodomising women. So it was peculiar for a village of women that drove of their men to have such iconography.

This local religious cult of a Deity called Painal has existed in this sparsely populated forest area for many centuries, longer than you had been alive certainly, due to the fact that the central authorities of the Human Kingdom of Morthem paid little attention to this area due to the insignificance of the region. Few people lived in this forested frontier region, so few taxes could be levied on the local villages. However, in recent decades, in this Human Kingdom, the religious cult of the Church of the Equal Brother-Deities (the cult of the deities Orlan and Alaratos, which spread from the neighboring human kingdom of Orlania, has intensified; due to the fact that the Kingdom of Morthem was dependent on the stronger state of Orlania, the Orlanian the religious cult sought to convert the local population into its adherents). It is possible that in the near future local members of the cult of the deity Painal will be much less comfortable than in previous years.

"Maybe this is a regional variant? A female version?" Count Tourmaline dismissed your commentary, the disdain for Human Gods evident even to you.

You were taken to a dressmaker's while Count Tourmaline procured rooms for the night.

You couldn't help but notice the way the woman leered at you as she ordered you stripped and washed. The Elven Captain, a lithe woman with sharp eyes, seemed particularly agreeable to helping you get cleaned. The cleaning involved a lot of extra rubbing of your tits and fuckholes. Finally, after some in depth groping passed off as 'taking measurements', you were put in a dress that was... slutty. While your previous dress was cut low in the front, it was quite clearly a dress of a tavern girl first, tavern whore second. Clean, it could at least pretend to be humble, dignified.

Your new dress... it was very... in keeping with the aesthetic of the village. The front was cut even lower than your tavern dress, you'd be spilling out if you moved faster than a slow walk. Which was all you could safely achieve with the platform heels the dress came with. The dress was pink to match your eyes, with golden gears embroidered on top. A closer inspection would note the goats turning into Satyrs and cavorting with buxom Nymphs.

It was a very pretty dress, and the unsuspecting would perhaps see nothing amiss when the wearer stood still. But Elven eyes were sharp, and you had been in all the positions the Nymphs had been put, and you were very familiar with wearing outfits with the intent to expose yourself.

The Captain couldn't help herself. She grabbed one of the clips from the sleeve of your dress and clipped it to the other, binding your arms together behind your back. Her next move was to unclip the back of the skirt of your dress to expose your bare arse. Her gloved hand smacked hard against your meaty cheeks, ripping moans of ashamed delight from you.

The seamstress seemed just as happy to make use of you, as once your fat tits fell out of your new dress, she took to pulling and twisting your thick teats, draining milk out of you.

The Captain tired of spanking, and switched to groping the globes of meat you called an arse. Her gloved fingers found your arsehole, found it to be a welcoming, well-used fuckhole for her to play with. Her fingers pushed in and spread her arse open, with your own saliva as lubricant as she frequently **** more of her fingers into your mouth.

"How much milk are in these?" The seamstress asked, mystified. Her thirst quenched and even her avarice was being overwhelmed by how bountiful your milk was. She eventually revealed some rather nasty looking golden clamps that she used on your teats, and your clit for good measure. The goat's head bit into your sensitive flesh and you felt a bit of pain from having your milk stoppered.

She didn't stop there. For daring to try overfeeding her, she spanked your milkjuggs. Your tanned skin was turned red to match the redness of your arsecheeks. The Captain had progressed to the point of aggressively fisting your arsehole. She remarked at how few could do so in so little. Only a real anal whore had such an experienced fuckhole.

"You loose whore!"

And despite the sharp of eyes of a full and a half-blooded Elf, only the Human seamstress of the village saw the golden embroidery of your dress become shinier, more ornately done. It's value increased by the Ritual Magic of the village from so long ago.

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