Robin LaRouge's Posse

The small wood elf awoke to find that she lay on a soft bed, something akin to silk she figured, but she was chained, unable to move, and by some magic unable to cast. A frown found it's way to her lips.

"It is only for your safety, little one." The gruff voice spoke from the corner. "There are other things in my home that are not like me, and to them you are a small snack that will hold them over until some other creature should find themselves lost in the catacombs."

A tremble overtook her body as the memories of why she came to be asleep flooded back through her. She pulled weakly at the chains knowing what would come next, dreading it, or worse, wanting it.

He stood and walked from his dark corner to her. Slowly large fingers explored down her naked body and paused over her belly button. She stared at his fingers, in anticipation he felt, and drove one softly into her belly button. A gasp escaped her lips and her back arched of it's own free will.

"Will you scream for me again, pretty?" He whispered as his tongue found it's way to her ear. His fingers were now buried in her soft folds searching for the place he wished to fill again. "And cum for me, little one." He said driving his finger into her.

A scream broke from her lips, and her hips pressed up against him. Her anger desperately tried to overcome the warmth that engulfed her. Her face flushed again as his palm pressed against her swollen clit. A tremor slowly began to overcome her and he lips sucked a nipple deep into his mouth. She tugged on the chains that bound her to the bed to no avail.

The light tremors that rocked over her body made his hunger build faster. Her wetness still overflowed from his last attempts and it became obvious his wait this time would be short. Pressing his finger deep into her she shuddered with ecstacy and he pulled her legs up by her head. Climbing onto the bed he took his hard cock into his hands and smiled at her frightened eyes.

"Next time, sweetness, next time I will give you more time to prepare." He pressed his hard cock deep into her, one hand holding her ankles and his other softly circling her clit. His grunt was low and he closed his eyes as she screamed. The screams made the conquer so much more sweet. He wondered if she could handle his largeness in her ass too, but knew he would have to wait to explore such possibilities.

His eyes closed as he pumped hard into her, he released her ankles and lay across her small form nearly suffocating her as his thrusting became fast and hard. His grunts nearly blocking out the sound of her screams as he drove deeper into her. He felt the swelling of his cock with each new thrust and she cam beneath him driving him over the edge.

Pleasure erupted through him, but something on the edge of his hearing told him something was wrong. She was breathing beneath him, he had not smothered her, what was it he heard? He pressed into her again enjoying the sweet softness that wrapped around his shrinking cock. As the pleasure filled him again it was interrupted by a sharp pain that cut into his lower back.

Tumbling off of his pet he tried to come to his feet, but another bout of pain cut into the side of his neck. With a cry he tried to see the culprit that attacked him. He never laid eyes on the dark form that brought yet another sharp pain to his back. His knees buckled beneath him and dropped him lifeless to the cold hard floor of his home.

The small wood elf watched the dark figure lean over and exam his handy work. "Everine, I fear you enjoyed this much more than you would like to admit." He said without looking up.

"Hmm, well, did you enjoy taking so long to ‘rescue' me?" She asked breathlessly.

"Answering a question with a question?" He asked standing up and quietly drinking in the beauty of her naked body. "If you didn't so badly need a bath I would say I had you right where I wanted you." His grin was sheer sarcasm and he made no move to free her. "Besides, my dear, it's all in the timing." His wide smile glowed in the darkness of the room.

A shimmer filled the room next to them and a green robed mage stood in the corner that was once dark. "Hmmm, I miss all the good stuff." He muttered assessing the situation with a single glance. Robin reached over and released her hands from the chains as the mage tossed a back pack onto the bed. "Dress, Everine, and let's see what today's work has brought us." He smiled happily and began summoning the rest of their party as she pulled on her armor.

Mistress Demuire

In the city of Qestro, famed Robin LaRouge has a famous supporter. The Enchantress - Mistress Demuire. It is rumored that she takes Robin out dancing every time he comes to town. It is also recorded that his band of men are the only ones she trusts to ship her more treasured scrolls to the Great Library.

So indebted is she (as most of the rumors go) that many short tales have sprung up over the circumstances that have brought this to be. Very many of these tales are the love story of Mistress and Master Demuire. Many of the tales are far too tame, so I have compiled all that I could find (some more delicious than others) and bring you what I feel is more to the truth of what occurred.

(A little known secret -for your ears only of course- Master Demuire is one of Robin LaRouge’s stepbrothers. How this came to be is another story for another day.)

Mistress Demuire sat frowning at her spellbook, it seemed it should be much easier to put this to quill and paper. How was she ever to finish her work for the Great Library if it should take this long to put these spells to paper? Not even to mention that the errand boy she had sent for more ink was taking far longer than a walk across town should merit.

At that precise moment her errand boy flew into the room, his excitement overwhelming his usual worship of his mistress. "Mistress, it's the most amazing thing!" He shouted, tossing himself to the floor as he attempted to remember his manners and kneel before her when he entered her presence. "There is a Master Mage in town, he is rumored to be coming here to met you in person. They are saying that he is renowned across the entire southern cities and beyond!" He breathed heavily trying to catch his breath.

"And his name?" She asked perturbed over the excitement of some nameless infiltrator to her home town.

"I believe it was Master Uiender, Mistress," he spoke more quietly, lowering his eyes to the floor at her obvious irritation.

"I see," she said looking back to her work. "Have you brought me the ink I required?"

"Yes, Mistress." He handed her the brown bag that he had stashed in his vest pocket.

"Well, if this Master is so spectacular, then I do suppose you should busy yourself finding the maids and getting the place prepared for him." Her hand waved him towards the door in dismissal. "As for myself, I do have much more pressing matters."

She knew the name of the mage, but it was of no importance, he was not of her guild and she would not let such interruptions prevent her from completing the job at hand. For such famed casters to visit her was not at all unexpected, and this one was of the least importance.

The sun was setting as she finished the final scroll and carefully sealed it with her ring. Enchantments were best completed before the sun had found it's way down from the heavens. She set aside the quill and ink and brought the small chest to the table to prepare it for shipping.

Carefully she set each of the scrolls into the chest and sealed it shut. A charm placed on the lock would prevent it from being opened by any but the intended recipient. As she set the chest onto the shelf a quiet knock sounded at her office door.

"It's about time," she muttered. "Enter," she called to the door and sat comfortably into the settee.

Her errand boy entered and knelt before her. "Mistress, a message boy has just arrived for you."

"Very good, send him in." She said, busily smoothing down her purple robes to hide the anger that this mage would send an errand boy instead of come to present himself to her.

A dark cloaked figure entered behind her servant, and though her servant elbowed him, the newcomer neither knelt nor bowed before her grace. Instead he spoke quickly as if he had some place else he wished to be.

A scroll rolled out from between the dark figures fingers.

"My Lady, I formally request your presence at the Chateau Regale for a midday meal on the morrow. We will be dining on the veranda so please wear something light. Our business is of utmost importance and shall take little of your time. Signed, Master Uiender."

His cloak smacked gently as he clicked his feet together in some sort of salute and walked straight back from the room without further to-do.

Mistress Demuire was appalled. Her mouth stood agape as he walked from the room and she considered any number of things to do to this vagabond that dared disrespect her in her own home. But before she could even come to her feet he was long gone. Even her errand boy stood frozen in the doorway, astounded.

She did not sleep that night, storming endlessly through the rooms of her bedchamber, she did not call her usual gathering of the household to assign new chores, and she did not demand her errand boy to sit by her bed and read from the local paper. Anger at the way this Master came into her town and ordered her about seethed at her soul. She considered what she might say to him, she even thought more than once of refusing to appear at his appointment.

Sunlight streamed in across her closed eyelids as the boy opened the curtains. "It is nearly time for your meeting, Mistress." He spoke softly aware of her distress.

"Yes, I do suppose it is." She muttered and stood for him to undress her. His fingers worked deftly over her ties and buttons, and she did not take the usual pleasure of watching his quiet gasps of pleasure as each section of her pale skin was revealed.

He went to the closet and pulled light garments from them to dress her in. He was careful to pick clothes that complimented her light brown hair and green eyes. Her figure was magnificent in any of the things that filled her closet, but this outfit he so enjoyed to dress her in.

Mistress Demuire paid no heed to what he did, her teeth bit into her bottom lip as she considered yet again the ramifications of not presenting herself to the arrogant snob that ordered her to appointments and did not request them.

Fingers worked delicately over the fastenings of the silk undergarments. His eyes never left his work as his fingers came within a hair's breath of her fair skin. She snapped if it tickled, and snapped if he was too rough, and snapped in general if he appeared to take too much pleasure in her naked body as he dressed or undressed her. Still, he found great pleasure in this one indecency she permitted him.

More than once the other servants of her house had whispered to him of why she would allow a male servant this duty. He always frowned and acted is if it was a chore that did not please him. He told them of her complaints, and of the difficulty in doing this for such a particular woman. Many rumors of his sexual preferences lingered in the servant's quarters, but he did not let them bother him. To him it was an honor that she held this trust for him. Besides, he had other things on his mind that entertained him while he dressed her, that were far more fascinating than the rumors of his peers.

Grumbling she caught her robe in her hands and pulled them from him as he finished the last lace of her favorite sandals. "I am out of time and I am not pleased that we must do this. You are coming with me. Follow." She announced and straight back headed for the door.

He followed, as always, three steps behind. His duty to prevent any harm to come to her, but truly she wanted him there in case she should decide she needed something from a shop or vendor. She also would wait at doors for him to open them, seats to be swept of any dust that might be where she wished to sit, and anyone detaining her would be immediately referred to him.

They reached the Chateau Regale and once at the door he announced the presence of Mistress Demuire. They were lead upstairs to the Mage's quarters. He sat at a table surrounded by blooming flowers and vines, and the cloaked man that had brought the message the night before stood to his right as if a statue. Still nothing of this dark figure was available to know who or what he was about. It unnerved Mistress Demuire a bit to see him cloaked and mysterious even here.

Master Uiender eyed her up and down, no effort to hide the inspection. "Be seated, My Lady." He spoke with a deep voice that fit well with his greying hair and soft wrinkles that formed around his eyes and mouth.

It was quite a challenge for her not to voice her opinions on his failure to use her respected title. Somehow she managed to approach the wicker table and sit herself on the chair across from him. Her errand boy took up his usual position behind her chair and she took some comfort in that.

The mage made small talk that she barely heard, she nodded and answered matter-of-factly to most of it. A frown settling notably into her forehead. Why had she come? She wondered to herself.

"My Lady," Uiender spoke scoldingly. "You have touched none of the quaint finger sandwiches, nor have you sipped at your tea." He leaned back into his chair carefully checking his grey and silver robe for crumbs. He turned to his message boy that stood beside him and waved his hand as to dismiss him. The man quietly stepped to the door and motioned her errand boy to follow.

"No!" Mistress Demuire spoke a bit too quickly and loudly. With a gently cough she continued. "I wish him to stay with me."

"I would hardly consider him to be much assistance should any danger befall you here, My Lady." The mage grinned at her.

"He is not here for assistance in that manner." No other excuses as to why she would keep this boy at her side would come to her.

"He is what? 16? How old are you young sir?" He asked leaning over the table inquisitively.

"I am 25, Master Uiender." Her errand boy answered a bit perturbed at the insinuation that he was just a mere child.

"Ah, yes, well that too, is still a bit young. Your name, young sir?"

"My name is Derrick, Derrick Offinis; Master Uiender." He was in no mood for this and did not wish to leave his Mistress's side. He hoped these questions would give her time to find a reason to keep him on the veranda with them. He looked out of the side of his eye to see the other servant still standing at the door waiting for him.

"Very good, Derrick, Derrick Offinis; young Sir. I humbly request a moment in private with your Mistress. Do you feel that I will bring any harm to her in the few moments you shall stand in the hall with Sir Robin?"

He stared first at the silken hood that covered the brunette locks on his Mistress's head to the bright brown eyes that smiled at him from across the table. Then he looked over at the dark cloaked figure that waited for him at the doorway. He wondered if more harm would befall him by entering the hallway than he could ever fear in here with this aging mage. "It is not my decision, Master Uiender. I shall abide by the wishes of my Mistress." He finally spoke.

She had been staring endlessly at the eyes of the mage as they spoke. Something in her was both warning her to keep her errand boy here and begging her to send him away. The thoughts tore at her. She paused and bit lightly into her bottom lip. No sound came from her and so the mage spoke again.

"It is your call, Mistress Demuire." He leaned back in his chair as if resolved to wait it out. "Shall he go and we might get on with business, or does he stay and we continue the small talk until you overcome your fear of me?"

Her eyes burned with an angry fire at his words. "I do not fear you or anyone else, Master Uiender.". She waved her hand at her errand boy, "You may step out,". Her eyes locked on to the elder eyes that stared her down and she did not see the scowl that produced near stamping from her servant.

As the door closed behind the two she spoke up. "You dare challenge me, mage?!"

"Oh, little one, it is not at all a challenge." He lifted his tea to his lips indifferently sipping on it. "However, I have more grown up matters and more private matters to discuss with you."

She balled her fists into her robe. "I am not certain that I wish to discuss further matters with an insolent lowly mage!" Venom dripped from her voice as she spoke.

He watched her closely as he reached into his robe pulling forth a long clay pipe that seemed to sport a small carved drakeling for a bowl. A small flame sprouted in it for just a moment and he took a slow drag off it and breathed out as he spoke. "I shall allow you that one error, My Lady." He took another slow drag from the pipe as he watched her anger try to consume her. "The next mistake, however, shall require me to take you over my knee and spank that little tight ass of yours."

She stood to her feet so quickly she nearly toppled the small wicker chair. "How dare you!" She spoke outraged at the presumption that he could spank her. As if she were some small child that had stolen a cookie from the local bakery. Enough was enough, she raised both hands in the air to cast on him. Suddenly something lifted her from the ground and then set her down roughly into her chair, and rooted her feet to the veranda floor.

"I would not presume to think you will enjoy what comes next if you should continue that incantation, My Lady." he spoke calmly sipping his tea again. "However," he leaned back into his chair enjoying the redness of her face, "if you enjoy that sort of thing I would be happy to grant you that pleasure."

"I never!" She shouted angrily at him. Her fists clenching her robe so tightly that her knuckles turned white with frustration.

"Yes, I am sure you never. It is rumored that Mistress Demuire is the most renowned of all Ice Queens in this part." He tapped the end of his pipe as he continued. "It is one of the reasons I have come here. To find out if it is true that you have ‘never'." He smiled gently at her. "But, only one of two reasons."

"I think that is none of your business," she muttered through clenched teeth.

"Yes, I imagine that it is not my business." He smiled, tapping his pipe again as if the paiha weeds that sat in it smoldering were being difficult. "However, I still wish to know." He looked up at her and paused so she might find her way past her anger to take a breath. Without changing from the mere conversational mood, continued "If the Mighty Enchantress, Mistress Demuire, has ever felt a hard cock thrust deep into her wet pussy."

She didn't notice the careful way he watched her reaction. Her anger causing her face to redden almost as bright as Sand Verbana in full bloom.

"I will not discuss this with you." She muttered and looked at the floor purposefully. She knew the roots would wear off soon, and she wondered if she should challenge this immoral, pervert of a man.

Lost in her thoughts of maiming him, or torturing him, she did not notice him step from his chair to stand beside her. He however did notice the slight rise in her breasts at the conversation, and the way her nipples stood out slightly through her leather vest.

"You won't hurt me, My Lady." He said leaning over her, watching her face flush at the closeness of his face to hers. "However much you wish too." His finger touched under her chin and lifted her face to peer into her eyes. "You are dismissed, and should you wish to continue this conversation later; or discuss the safety of your precious cargo that ships out this weekend; I shall be here for at least one more day." At that he walked purposefully through the far door never looking back.