Tavern games (short story)

(Non canon for now as I haven’t yet decided where to place it and might rework it to fit in.)

In the heart of a bustling medieval town, nestled between the mercenary guild and the amor market, lay the Tipsy Fox Tavern. The air was thick with the scent of ale and the sound of boisterous laughter. I found myself in this den of men, mainly because it was the closest to our Inn.

After all you do get bored and tired of farming the same monsters, so our party decided to visit a bar for a change to relax. Through we didn’t know that it had been quite famous in the area.

The tavern was known for its bawdy games, and tonight, the tavern keeper announced a contest that sent a shiver of excitement and scandal through the crowd. "Ladies," he bellowed, "tonight, the one who leaves the deepest impression on our little friend here," he gestured to a rather explicit fake phallus, "shall win four silvers worth! And all Ladies who reach the six inch mark will get free drinks for the night!

A chorus of cheers and whistles erupted from the crowd. The rules were simple, yet provocative. Each woman would apply her lipstick, then demonstrate her skill at deepthroating the fake cock. The furthest mark, held for at least ten seconds, would win. All the women would have 2 attempts to leave their mark and the finalists would get a third to try to win or set a new record.

I watched in disbelief as the first woman, a buxom tavern wench with dark curls and a wicked smile, sauntered up to the table. Her confidence was palpable, and the crowd was already chanting her name—Rosaline. She applied a generous layer of purple lipstick, the color glistening under the warm glow of the tavern's lanterns. With a playful wink, she stepped up on stage and knelt before the lewd contraption and, to the roaring approval of the men gathered around, she took the phallus into her mouth, sucking it playfully for a bit teasing the audience before going for her attempt marking the shaft with her lipstick.

The tavern was alive with raucous cheers, the air thick with the scent of spilled ale and sweat. I felt a wave of heat rise to my cheeks, both from the spectacle before me and the strange, intoxicating energy of the place. I obviously didn’t plan to participate but had to admit there was something incredibly hot about seeing a woman deepthroat a cock even if it was only a rubber one.

Though it did look oddly real.

Rosaline stood and blew a kiss to the crowd as the tavern keeper measured the mark left on the rubber phallus. "Seven and a half inches!" he announced, and the crowd erupted into cheers once more.

The woman had clearly not given her all as she took it rather easily even stretching out her tongue. Likely to entice potential customers and give the other girls a chance.

Another woman stepped up—this one a tall, willowy blonde with a sultry smile. She was just as eager, her lipstick a deep crimson that matched the blood-red roses on the hem of her gown. The contest continued, each woman more eager than the last to show of her skills, leaving their marks on the phallus, their attempts measured, cheered, and judged. The tavern was alive with lustful energy, and I couldn’t deny the magnetic pull of it all. It was a world so different from the monastery life I had left behind.

Not only the tavern wenches who wanted to entice customers but also many of the female adventurers, and a few local girls gave it a try. A certain girl had apparently come here with her boyfriend, showed of taking second place before vanishing with him shortly after to the restrooms.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the din. "You there!" It was the tavern keeper leading the event, his gaze locked on me. "You lot must be knew here why don’t you give it a go." His tone was playful, but the eyes of the crowd turned toward us, expectant and curious.

After all there were three woman at our table.

I didn’t want to stand out as a nun, and so, I had cast aside my habit for a more casual attire—a short green dress with a deep neckline that, under any other circumstance, would have been scandalous but looked utterly commonplace here in this world.

As for why I didn’t wear something more modest the answer lay in the fact that most of claires old clothes don’t fit me anymore, so instead I wore one of the dresses her mother left her.

I looked around our table hoping someone else would take the opportunity.