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(Gentle Femdom / Fantasy! / Exhibitionism / M22/F22)

[Part 1] (

[Part 2]( (You’re here)
***

“Oh my god! No!” screamed Emma. “That’s literally not how Imperials speak, you’re totally messing up the tongue position, and you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Look I’m not the one making a big deal out of it. It was just a joke, and you’re the one who won’t stop bringing it up. Let’s move on.”

“Don’t tell me when to move on! We’ll move on when I want to move on!”

“Then show me how to do it, I guess?” I said, exasperated.

“Like this.” Emma demonstrated by opening her mouth wide, tapping her tongue where any good Imperial would land it when pronouncing ‘gauche’. “Not like this will be of any help to you. In your land of unrefined tongues.”

“First of all, who says something like that? Land of unrefined tongues. What? Let me guess, you read too much cheap fiction.” Emma’s face twisted in offense.

“Second, you realize we are literally in a forest. Like, nothing here is refined.”

“Yes, but you are used to places like this, I’m not.”

“I work on a farm. Big difference between that and untamed, demonic wilderness. And you want to be an adventurer! This is what adventurers do. They don’t wear silk slippers.”

“If you’re good enough at magic they can. Look, I wasn’t trying to offend you, I just don’t see why someone like you would need to speak Imperial.”

My pace slowed to standstill, as I stared ominously at the black soil beneath me.

“You’d be surprised. The Empire has a long reach. No one escapes its grip.”

Emma turned to face me; concern washed over her face. “What’s wrong?”

“When I was a young boy, my father worked under the Imperial governor in the city. One day, he spoke up against some witch burnings, claiming they were unnecessary. That was a big mistake.”

“Oh my goodness, what happened?”

“Imperial soldiers came at night and fucking slaughtered my entire family, and our neighbors too, I only survived by crawling through their dismembered remains into the sewer, where I fled the city.”

Dread pressed on Emma. “I’m so sorry … I’m so…”

“I’m kidding, they just reassigned him to Lorpsland. Which was annoying, but yeah, I know some Imperial.”

“Ass!” squealed Emma, repeatedly slapping my shoulder. “Ass! Ass! You’re an ass!”

She couldn’t help but giggle as I started laughing.

“Did I get you?”

“Yes!”

“Well, don’t believe everything you hear. You should know that, it’s an Imperial dictum.”

“Well maybe you’re more than I realized at first.”

Our mutual interest in history which seemed so futile at the mansion now was a perfectly serviceable object of discussion for the never-ending walk through the forest.

After an hour or two we stopped to rest and drink from our waterskin. For the first time I noticed how pink and plump Emma’s lips were as she squeezed the wiggling sac into her mouth. Her blue robe covered her very well, and only at the neckline could I see folds of translucent fabric of her chemise underneath. When she spoke, my mind was still lost in memory of her descending those stairs.

“Did you hear me?”, she said, lowering the waterskin.

“Pardon?”

“That tree up there, I think its sunfruit. They’re my favorite! We rarely get them around town.”

I looked up and saw maybe a dozen enormous brown melons, each the size of my head, at the top of a tall tree.

At her word I bolted toward the tree, revitalized by our rest. I leaped up the first branch of the tree.

“You’re not going to climb that are you?” she asked, “you’ll hurt yourself!”

“Its fine I used to do this all the time as a kid.”

I rapidly ascended the tree, realizing halfway I was probably wasting energy, but remembered the fruit would be worth it. Near the top I plucked off two of the enormous melons and dropped them into a bush below. One missed and exploded against the ground, so I dropped a third, which survived.

Descending I found a hesitant but reluctantly pleased Emma.

“My hero…” she twinkled ironically.

I grabbed my knife and vivisected the fickle fruit, thick and woody rind and interlocking sinuous pockets containing the flesh. While I was placing our delicate treats on a bag, one immense rustle in the bushes startled us. I darted up, and saw where the sunfruit had fallen was a giant black and white furred beast, standing as high as my shoulders on all four paws, crouched in the bushes, slurping the broken melon.

“Oh gods it’s a giant skunk!”

Panicked, I began quickly picking up Emma’s numerous luggage. “Emma, run!”

“Stop!” she squeaked, pushing the bags off me, and grabbing my hand to pull me away.

It was then that the beast let lose a terrible scream, like the hiss of a rodent but produced by lungs ten-fold the size, and bolted towards us.

I was no wilderness expert, but I had spent a lot of time with animals, and I knew this was no death blow. The omnivorous mega skunk was trying to scare us off, it might have babies nearby, it might just be scared. We had to stand our ground and not trigger its prey flight response: to chase and kill fleeing things. It was too fast, we couldn’t outrun it.

I grasped Emma’s hand, pulled her to a stop, and spun around, pushing myself between her and the beast bolting towards us. It had the insane fury in its eyes only a life of wilderness can produce. And yet, it stopped just meters before us and loud out a maddening, bizarre bark. I began to slowly pace backwards, keeping Emma behind me, and soon so did the animal slouch back.

It suddenly seemed to lose interest in us as threats or prey, and in its simple mind we became mere annoyances. Fittingly, it spun it’s rear around towards us, and let lose an immense torrent of green spray which blasted Emma and I like a waterfall.
For a moment we were frozen, before it barked wildly at us again, and we bolted into the dark woods.

***

The endless network of trees expanded in all directions, shrouding us from the pink glow of sunset. Insects and birds chirped and buzzed from countless invisible burrows. Distant shrieks or cracking branches punctuated the gentle hum of life. Our feet trampled bushes and wiry vines, our bodies leaving a slug-like trail of human and skunk through the wooded murk. Dancing at the edge of both my vision and comprehension was a repeated mystery: small charms or string or braided flowers adorning branches.

When our adrenaline wore off, it quickly became obvious we were lost, and had no hope of finding the path to Lumenwald again, let alone our luggage.

“Don’t you have some kind of magic to fix this? Can you fly?” I asked.

“Spells have very specific uses, and I know few of them. The best I can do is start a fire.”

And begin a fire we did, in a small ditch under a tall maple.

Illuminated by the crackling flame, I saw clearly at last, and saw Emma soaked from the neck down in the skunk’s spray. She looked at me too with a pitiful gaze.

“At least your hair didn’t get hit.” I said.

She quickly gathered her hair in a bun to keep it from picking up any of the slime. We sat for a moment in contemplative silence. Too invested in our bungled journey to be scared, too tired to be proactive.

“We need to get clean. If it starts to dry it’ll never come off.” Emma commented, almost nonchalantly.

“We can wash our clothes at the river we passed. It’s probably a five-minute walk from here.”

“Sorry, but your clothes are ruined. Don’t you know anything about giant skunks? That shirt will smell like that a decade from now.”

“You learn that at adventurer school?”

“I’m serious.”

“Well, it soaked through everything” I said, “I’m not going naked in the forest, something could bite my dick.”

“Then we are splitting up, I’m not putting up with that fucking smell. Can’t see straight. Not to mention every other monster in this forest that will come check it out.”

The Goldsmith’s words drifted back into my memory, as did the maid’s knife. Not much of an option to leave Emma alone, even if she could do it alone.

“Fine, I’ll get rid of them. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“The river.”

“Alone?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t seem to understand” Emma said, “we are lost in the *Blackforest*. If we are doing this together, you can’t just wander off into the woods. You know how easy it is to get turned around, you can barely see twenty paces. I’m not about to waste all calories hunting you down. We stay together.”

“So … you want to come with me?”

“Yes!” Emma scoffed, almost in disbelief I could have such puritan manners in such a desperate situation. This must be why she was built for the adventurer’s guild and not me.

“Have it your way then.”

We left the fire burning as our guide back to the makeshift camp and walked to the river. The water was belly-deep and looked clean. I tossed off a shoe and dipped my toe in: ice cold.

“Well let’s get rid of these clothes.” Emma said plainly.

It was at this point it dawned on me what was about to happen, and my chest began to tighten. I made a show of turning away and began peeling the sticky clothes off me. Everything was indeed ruined, totally soaked with the spray. My shirt came off with a disturbing slurp, revealing a glistening broad chest and four pack, shifting into a subtle V shape down to my crotch. *Nice*, I wondered stupidly. I imagined Emma being irresistibly pulled towards my strong, male form. Her begging me to – *STOP*, my brain urged. Finally, I pulled down my wet breeches, exposing my ass and allowing my genitals to plop out into the brisk air. I was relieved to see my anxiety had prevented an erection, while thoughts of Emma’s imminent nudity still produced a penis plump and flopping heavy with blood. *Nice*.

It took me a moment, but after gathering my courage, I flung myself into the deep abyss of forbidden pleasure, where anything could happen, where all your dreams and nightmares could come true, by whipping myself around to face Emma. The soft thud of my cock slapping into my thigh barely registered in my mind as I stared at Emma, gorgeous Emma, forbidden, arousing, sexy Emma: fully clothed. Not fully, she had taken the dank robe off as it was currently drifting downstream, likely to ruin some beaver’s day. But she still was fully covered by her thin chemise. Now this in any other scenario would have been the best thing to ever happen to me, given Emma’s whole frame could be made out through the semi-transparent silkiness. But when I was expecting to be greeted with her nude, supply skin, I was disappointed.

“You – you’re still in your clothes?”, I sputtered, covering my dick.

“Its not dirty, my robe was thick enough to catch it all.”

“Oh.”

“Problem?” she asked mockingly, fingering a curl of hair.

It was at this point my brain finished processing the image of her barely occluded body, and I began to fear for the continued flaccidity of my penis again.

Under the loose silk chemise, the curves of her two breasts sat up firmly on her chest, sans support. Not only did they sit up at attention, but the peaks of these mounds slightly curved upwards like a ski-slope, such that her chemise fell taut over her bust, suspended between her petite collar and puffy nipples.

The fabric hung straight down from her wobbling shelf of breast, but behind the fabric I could make out her soft but athletic musculature below the ridge of her ribcage, her flat, toned tummy, and her supply, wide but athletic hips and thighs.

“–think we should hurry. Aren’t you cold?”

Her words percolated through levels of awareness, finally interrupting my lizard brain from ogling more.

“Ah yes!” I blurted, “Let’s get clean!”

“Right… you feeling okay?”

“Yup!”

“Are you nervous or something?”

“No!”

“Is it because I can see your dick. It’s because I can see your dick isn’t it.”

“I-”

“If it makes you feel better it’s a really nice dick. If I wasn’t a lesbian I might even be tempted.”

My mouth made some incomprehensible utterances, before I enunciated, “Thanks.”

“Now get washing, you’re filthy.”

I began to nervously scrub and rinse the sticky residue off my skin, which luckily was coming off. A mega skunk’s spray is more voluminous but less potent than typical skunks. It hadn’t occurred to me why Emma was still standing on the bank of the river.

“Why aren’t you coming in?”

“I need to make sure you clean yourself right before I take care of myself. I’m sleeping next to you, and you will not be stinky.”

And so half submerged in ice cold river water I scrubbed and soaked and rinsed my body, doing my best to pose nonchalantly, and steal enough glimpses of Emma’s sexy body behind crossed arms and thin undergarment to keep my super chilled genitals from shrinking too much.

“By the way, what’s a lesbian?” I asked, desperate to pierce the image of me pathetically bathing before her in silence.

“What?”

“You said you were a lesbian. You mean like the island of Lesbos and Sappho? Like the poet?”

Emma squinted her eyes for a moment before letting out a little sigh.

“Yes.”, she managed.

“So, you’re a poet too?” I asked, grinning. It was nice to know I was learning about her. If she liked poetry, she might be a true romantic. Distant plans of seduction began to formulate in my mind, involving secret letters, romantic rhymes, you know, stuff girls like.

“You missed a spot” she said, pulling away one crossed arm to point, revealing one nipple, firm in the night chill, pressed against her gown. When my eyes darted to her, she pressed her arm back, involuntarily squeezing her mounds of cleavage upwards in an embrace to preserve heat.

I finished off rinsing and began to trudge out of the water, but when my crotch rose out of the water Emma told me to stop. The water lapped halfway up my thigh, but my engorged, flaccid penis hung deep enough that my glans was just submerged, like the head of a giraffe leaning down to drink. This image satisfied me, so I stayed at that elevation.

Emma gave me a strange look, before pointing at my dick.

“It still has stuff on it. Rinse it.”

She was right, I had purposely avoided rubbing my genitals for the obvious reason of not wanting an erection and had hoped the flowing water would take care of it for me.

I resigned and splashed some water around my crotch, giving a few perfunctory scrubs with my hand.

“You’re barely washing it. Clean it! Don’t guys barely wash anything but their dick and balls anyways?”

I gave Emma a sharp and quick glare to indicate my displeasure with being bossed around, which she didn’t even see me make, and made a point of rubbing down my dick some more, which plumped it up even more. It was now slightly more veiny, dangled with a little more weight, and pressed into the air with more turgid resolve.

“Out. Hurry, I’m cold.”

I scurried out of the river. This definitely wasn’t the experience I expected from the first girl who’d ever seen my penis. Like I said, I didn’t get around much.

Regardless, girls had commented on the bulge in my pants before (probably mocking me, who knows), but I was under the impression bigger is better, and that mine was pretty big. Perhaps since Emma was a poet, she was more intellectual, not swayed by petty physical charms or trappings.

“Turn around.” she ordered.

“What?”

Emma was boldly plunging herself into the water.

“Turn around while I wash myself.”

I turned around.

“You got to watch me…” I whined.

“I got to instruct you.”

“Just give me the same respect and don’t stare at me.” I said.

“Nice ass.” she quipped.

I spun around to give her a piece of my mind, and saw two glistening, glimmering, golden, giant, generous, goddess breasts, vacuum sealed with the soaked linen of the chemise, gently bobbing from Emma’s and the water’s movement.

As she gathered up her immense, creamy bust behind one arm, my cock began expanding at a simply offensive pace. Emma, at first looked mildly disappointed in me, then with a catty smirk playfully kissed the air in the direction of my genitals, and spun her finger around as if to say, “Please turn back around.” My brain had already made that decision, as images of an overly-protective maid shot across the bow of my mind, and I quickly turned around, not so much as to obey her but to hide my penis, and not so much to hide it from her, but from the maid in my mind.

“Sorry!”

“It’s okay. I know it was an accident.” Her voice was so sultry it could inspire any man to drop and give a hundred pushups, it was like melted chocolate, it was like spring honey, it flowed through and into my mind like warm milk. It didn’t help my situation downstairs.

Luckily, I was in no rush, apart from the increasingly sharp chill in the air. While Emma had been spared the worst of the spray by her robe, she possessed that feminine instinct to take as much time as one needed, and more, in the realm of cleanliness, toiletries, and general hygiene. Although in our age of Enlightenment, of sail and mercantilism and enlightened monarchs, perhaps I shouldn’t generalize this stereotype to her group. Is it not, just as likely, I am confused by a confounding variable? Perhaps this tendency is limited to lesbians, whose minds are so encumbered by prose and rhyme that they can not help but enter deep contemplation in the privacy and vulnerability of the bath. Is it not in our baths where we humor our deepest and sustained mental tangents?

“What are you thinking about?” A voice appeared much too close behind me.

“Ah! Um …” I spun around to see Emma inches away, sealed in her soaked skin-tight chemise, holding each bountiful breast in one hand, even they required three or more to be covered. “Lesbians, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh, is that right?” she asked suggestively, shifting her weight on one hip, sending subtle jiggles through her feminine shape. I quickly covered my (thank the gods) softened but mildly engorged genitals when my eyes danced across the only thinly-covered curves of her thighs and pelvis.

“Yes! I deduced lesbians must take long baths.”

“Good for you!” Emma said, lifting one hand and patting me on the back earnestly. My heart twisted in the face of her visible puffy nipple. Any hint that this was unintentional went unobserved as she casually pressed her hand back over her nipple. “Okay that’s enough ogling for a lifetime. Turn around, let’s go.”

Emma made me walk in front on the way back to the fire, which thankfully was still raging. The demon-like cackling I heard in the dark depths of the forests on our way back surely terrified me, but Emma assured me that it was typical for the Blackforest, and probably just an imp or goblin, not even a lesser djinn or leviathan. She explained imps all just have Napoleonic complexes, so if you call them short, they turn into ash. I made sure to remember that, but asked what a Napoleon was, and she realized she didn’t know either.

We had no option but sleep naked on the forest floor under the stars. At least with all the water evaporated off, and under the humid insulation of the canopy, the cold was bearable, and not unpleasant.

Emma explained to me – with my back turned to her, out of respect for her privacy, so she said – how tomorrow she could use some spells she knew to help us get supplies. Numerous conjuring and alchemical transformations, or something. But she needed sleep before attempting it, which I was happy to oblige. She did manage to wave her hands in an apparently mystical way to produce some sort of protection spell over us while we slept, after I mentioned the demon-laughter for a fifth time. Whether she was really exchanging thaumaturgical potentials with the Seven Muses of the Cosmos, who in their all-seeing blindness weave the fates of Men and Gods alike, from who all mages, witches, lichs, and demi-gods siphon their transphysical powers, or just pretending to make me feel better, was uncertain. What was certain, was my consciousness was rapidly dimming, I slipped into deep sleep.

NSFW: yes

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