How to Come Like a Lady

The door was closed, and Moira assured him that they'd remain alone until she was called... and given the task in the dungeons below (John was surprised at how readily she admitted that they had them) they would remain alone for some time. "That's not an invitation to do something vile, John!"

"Of course not," he whispered, and offered his hand to her. "But the sooner we finish, the sooner we can conduct business."

"I... I have to remain a virgin."

"If I promise to keep you a virgin, will you trust me?"

Her face twisted as she tried to consider it. John's word was only worth a bit more than any of the unproven rabble... and that was with the significant penalty of being a mage, even if contract-bound. "I can only trust you as far as you've earned it."

"Then I will earn it all today." He smiled at her, and her manipulated trust almost made him feel guilty. Almost. In the end, she should trust me more anyways... right? He tried to not let the question affect his expression.

Hesitantly, she let her fingers slip into his. The truth was, however, he was not done helping her.

Aphrodisiac applied. Target is now 400% more receptive to you.

Aphrodisiac lvl6, variable mp
Aphrodisiac: you touch a target and spend any amount of mana. This touch will make them more receptive to your sexual advances, and sensitive to your sexual acts, by [skill lvl x mp spent]%. This effect lasts for a [skill lvl + 1] hours. If the boost is halved, it can instead last [skill lvl + 1] days. If the boost is doubled, it will instead last [skill lvl + 1] rounds.

She shivered as she felt his warmth on her fingers. Was this what it meant to touch a boy? The effect was hardly subtle, but inexperience let her imagine the sensation to be real... and John did nothing to persuade her otherwise. The new setting for aphrodisiac, meanwhile, seemed devastating: even if only for 36 seconds at its present level, that seemed more than long enough to debilitate an opponent in a fight. But he would contemplate that later: for now, he had to focus on something in which he was truly inexperienced... something that he wish he had when he was laying with Tricia, perhaps to help her calm down, or with Alysha so she wouldn't hate him so:

Foreplay. He always told himself he'd spend hours doing it back before he lost his virginity, back when he'd be so grateful to have a woman pleasure his under-sized dick... and he'd barely even bothered, such a cad as he was in this post-virgin Game of his. What was it about Moira, then, that made him want to keep his word? As strong as steel, able to hurdle a warhammer like a lawn dart at a mad swordsman and nearly hit him square in the center... but also now, quivering as he brought her to the bed, a fragile piece of art, daring him to handle it brutishly. He wouldn't. He guided her to lay down to her position as before, and swept her discarded toys towards the end of the bed.

"What... what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to help you relax." John crawled onto the bed.

"I-I-I-I AM NOT RELAXED!"

"Shh," he harshly spat, and winced at his own impatience. "Just... sorry. I'm not too experienced, but I think I'll be able to help you... I just need you to relax." He rubbed her shoulder, the least offensive part he thought he could touch, and her body tensed under his grip... even as she moaned softly.

"I've... I've never felt this... way..."

"You're really pent up," John chuckled, "it even says so in your status effects."

"What... is that more of that... Game stuff?" Her breaths were labored now, and she struggled to keep her voice from quaking as his hand moved down her side, gently massaging her flesh just below her armpit, slowly letting his fingers glide down her recently washed flesh.

"Moira?" His hand glided along her pelvis, just above the band of steel that ensured he was at least something of a gentleman.

"Y-Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?" Her eyes went wide... and the butterflies in her stomach turned to real spasms over her abs as he teased the top of her pubic mound with two gentle fingers, touching flesh that armor saved from monsters, and society saved from ordinary men.

But John was no ordinary man. "I-If... if you wish..." John didn't think it possible, but her features somehow grew more flush.

"I do." Her heart fluttered... and only moreso when he didn't reach up to kiss her on the mouth, and instead kissed the front of her thigh, well-toned save that it now felt like it would melt under his ****. His free hand, the one not teasing her stomach, found its pleasure caressing her other thigh, and while an observed might note the oddly chaste foreplay... for Moira it was tantamount to fornicating in the courtyard, and all her embarrassment and fear and shame balled up into a growing pressure inside of her, one that ticked up her frustration and yet was already so much closer than she had ever managed those past three days, those wretched, torturous, chaste, orgasm-free days-!

"No-!" She bit her lip, and moaned as his left hand finally abandoned her stomach to travel up to her breasts, swollen and needy as they were, and gently massaged them, first at their roots where her bra straps, conservatively old-fashioned, would bite into her flesh and leave her sore, and then to the mounds proper, gently teasing her nipple with seemingly accidental brushes of his fingers. It drove her mad. Grab them already, she mentally demanded, and her hands, originally working to cover or hold her burning face as she suffered these delights, finally joined in his efforts: her left hand tugging viciously on her left nipple, and her right attempting to guide John's hand. He took her hand back to his face, resolved to kiss her belly, and put his thumb, of all places, in her mouth.

She was no child. She was the Warden of the Golden Rose! A hero! A powerful woman who would one day rule a powerful organization... and she licked at the offered thumb, and kissed it, and sucked it as if begging through his flesh for the fat digit to go to places where it could not, to her very core where a fire continued to build.

"Please..."

"Of course." She had wanted to beg him to stop this madness, to keep her from losing all sense and control... but it was only the noblewoman who demanded it. Moira needed more, and it was that sultry demand he obliged as he crawled over her leg and hoisted her up by her knees, spreading her before the eyes of a bachelor, the metal band of her chastity being all that there was to censor her humiliation. Her labia swelled against it, soaked it until it dribbled down her butt cheeks in droplets, and drove her mad with lust. She felt she could die, feeling the moisture that escaped the belt's enchantment, her toes curling in the air at the feeling of being pinned in so humbling a pose, like a common whore ready to be fucked.

His head lowered. Her heart wasn't ready, she couldn't catch her breath to stop him, to beg him not to-

His mouth kissed the small fold of flesh between thigh and labia... and Moira bucked against him as the wave smashed into her senses, driving her to climax, driving from her all hesitations of the untrustworthy mage known as John Newman. Her legs escaped his grip, but only to wrap around his head. "John-!" she squeaked, and she could do not but repeat it to keep from howling as she tried to contain her orgasm. "John... John, John... John...!"

The man she named so desperately blinked from her grasp, shocking her... and pleasing her anew as he appeared at her side to kiss her properly. He tasted of her, and were she in any other state she might've objected to the cleanliness of the act; as it were, she only wanted to nibble on the tongue as he offered it to mingle with hers, and the two continued like this as he mounted her, his leg being crushed between her thighs, his right hand toying with her nipple as she longed for, his left massaging the back of her head and reverberating the waves of pleasure down her back.

He looked just over the crest of her hair: seven purple hearts. She wasn't even sated. "I'm going to take off your belt," he whispered.

"John... I... I want..." She winced as she struggled to keep from saying it. She didn't want him inside her.

She needed him inside her. Her hand drifted to his cock, as if to confirm her fears, and her lips sealed to keep the wish from escaping. She couldn't give in; she would not. Grateful, wonderful, ecstatic as she felt, the Golden Rose could not be surrendered so.

Click.

She stared down, in abject confusion and fear, as the missing key finally reappeared... in John's hand as she had feared, and now in the clanking metal underwear he peeled away from her to toss on the floor like so much rubbish. "I wasn't sure," John breathed, his cock still sheathed in his uniform, his hands now caressing the stubble of her mound, normally clean-shaven to avoid trouble with the belt but now ill-maintained. He whispered his words into her mouth, and a bit of regret shone through. "I wasn't sure how to... give it back to you. I didn't think I'd ever get the chance... I'm... sorry, and I want to make it up to you."

"You're... you're a thief..." she moaned, her brow furrowed as she tried to balance the mixture of emotions in her.

"And I will work hard to repent." He kissed her on the small of her neck, and then between her breasts, and his obvious destination terrified her. She was angry, betrayed... aroused, so aroused, and the fresh air now laid upon her pussy, kept clean by the belt's magic but now a sopping mess following his service, warned her of his destination, of her vulnerability... of her duty to stop him. He kissed her between breast and belly. Three-hundred points seemed a paltry sum to ensure her cooperation... it would replace that first dose, made solely to help her unwind, but the effect would be something closer to madness... and she would give him anything he wanted, if his tongue only asked.

John relented, and she finally spoke up. "You think I'm a fool, don't you? Letting you toy with me when you caused this... this... Lady help me...!"

"I wouldn't waste my time with a fool," John chastised, "and I'm not toying with you." His body slithered down her legs, and at last he had come to the pungent, lovely smell of his paladin. She met his eyes... but did not move. It was consent, after a fashion. "I'm apologizing." He went to task, lowering his head to her crotch and lapping up, as a matter of cleanliness, all that which had leaked from her. Her thighs crushed his head as he tried this, and soon he lost what control he had and shoved his nose and mouth, roughly, mercilessly, into her crotch, sucking on her clit and all that surrounded betwixt his greedy lips. She smothered herself with a pillow as she screamed, coming a second time and this time, more shamefully than before, right onto a man's face. Like a gator she rolled with her captured prey, and struggled to sit up, her body quaking as she held her head, played with her breasts, and did whatever her hands damn well pleased to do as he now laid on his back while consuming her.

She sat upright on her knees, finally releasing the flower that painted his face. His eyes rolled into focus and returned her gaze from across the valley of her mound, her perfectly toned belly, and the rolling hills of her tits. All of her polite society had flowed out of her like the honey he just drank, and all that was left was an urge to fuck his face until she came a third time, an animalistic urge that, given his responsibility for its development, seemed like nothing short of justice.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Hardly," she growled, and shoved her crotch back down onto his face.