Chapter 8: Chapter 8 – Antilorwe – Perception and Seduction

The lacy hem of the dress swirled in a beautiful circle as Cyrene twirled with exhilaration like a child in a summer meadow. She pranced around the room with her newfound confidence. Despite the racy nature of the evening gown and her own trembling unease, the nurturing demeanour of Antilorwe slowly coaxed her out of her dark cocoon. The beautiful braid, interweaved with pearly hair pins, carefully styled by the maid, to bring out her gleaming dark curls cascading down the back of her neck, added to her charm, further encouraging the shy girl. The pale white beads, a stark contrast to her raven dark hair, radiantly sparkled under the moonlight filtering through the window.

Like a fledgling spreading wings for the first time, Cyrene fluttered around in her lithe form happily. Each movement of her slender frame enhanced the effect of the lust gown falling down around her youthful thighs. Soft music from the main hall oozed in like silk drifting over her exuberant form. Her self-esteem regained gradually from the perilous level of abandonment and ruin that threatened her moments ago. By dint of her own volition, Cyrene did not hesitate. Letting her ego bloom once again, she composed herself in front of the mirror, checking her posture before fluttering her eyelids at Antilorwe.

Seated a few paces away, with her hands folded serenely across her lap, Antilorwe watched the girl, curiously and with amusement. Arching her brows skywards, her plump lips slowly curled in a subtle encouraging smile while following the exhilarated Cyrene stroll across the room. Her feet made small hops across the rich marble floor. Cyrene reminded her of a golden thread woven among silver leaves. Everything sparkled with her radiance. Antilorwe is neither a mage nor an alchemist to discern what sort of magical infusion the girl took to affect her transition. But within the confines of her perspective mind, one fact stood out; whatever the potion is, it is affecting wide swings in her disposition.

The High-Elf gave a wry smile. Try as she might, the heavy ashen cloud of apprehension invading her heart remained. Being helpless and vulnerable is always disheartening. The thoughts of Urganza and the alluring girl before her only added to the jittery chills crawling down her spine. The passionate act they would indulge in, in the privacy of their own chambers later, spiked every errant desire in her, like lightning from the sky shooting straight into her brain. And knowing that the two marvellous creatures in question, mangling her very core, currently in her manor and yet so far away, shattered her world, twisting her fragile soul endlessly.

Suddenly, despite the warm atmosphere and the enchanting ambience of her solar, Antilorwe felt a shiver, her thoughts cast with the same all-consuming obsession of a raging conflagration. The brilliant orange embers burning within her driving her insane. Clenching her fists, she fought her own weak will, resisting her urge to banish the fast-invading image of Cyrene holding the hem of her dress in her fingers. Her messy string panties pulled down to her slender ankles; presenting her stiff arousal to Antilorwe’s inviting lips.

Antilorwe was certain she could make that taunting image, a reality. Coax the poor girl into revealing; exposing herself. Claim that the lewd act with her lips could calm her nervous core. Convincing the innocent girl that allowing Antilorwe to perform the act would ensure that she will not have an unladylike response while entertaining Urganza. That could be their very private secret. Their very concealed tryst. Yet, Antilorwe suppressed her lustful urges, calling upon the morality she gained over years to stamp down her sinful desires.

Such an act would tarnish all three of them. Blatantly satisfying her own carnal desires would only feed the pain for all. Dubious consent coupled with cheating is not the path she would tread. Especially when one of the parties in question, the shy girl, is still wide-eyed and fights an uphill battle between her own upbringing and societal conditions. And for the other party, Urganza, the vagaries of Morality and ethics are utterly foreign concepts. Despite those diversities, the stubborn orc had been anything but honest with Antilorwe. She would not reward her sincere gestures with a fragile lie. Antilorwe would answer Urganza’s integrity with her own virtue. In that instance, honesty, morality and responsibility, Antilorwe could never fathom, belonged only to her. She would secretly hold the twin emotions of pain and hope for the two beautiful creatures within her.

In that steely resolved moment, Antilorwe decided that she be the bridge to facilitate the passion between Urganza and Cyrene.

Hope, that someday she would finally, accept and move forward; with joy.

Pleasure, at least as it could be, would give her a momentary relief from her constant inner torment.

Selflesshness, if nothing else, she argued that it would enable her to keep the peace.

Convinced that her action was the least destructive of all possible paths, Antilorwe gave another serene smile at Cyrene, but spoke her words softly. She tried to deny the hesitant sway of the girl’s hips, the way her chest lifted when she breathed. The soft look in her emerald green eyes. The tender scent of lilac mingled with her natural body odour, almost achievable only by divine grace infused within her feminine spirit. It almost reached her senses. The Elf Maiden gazed at the ethereal creature. How odd that a tiny mortal, regardless of form would have such profound power over her mood. Antilorwe pushed summoning every shred of willpower and addressed the chirping girl.

“My dear sweet sugar Cyrene, would you go and offer the Orc High-Lady some company? We have left her alone for far too long.”

Without thinking, Cyrene agreed. She turned and sauntered towards the door leading to the main hall.

Slightly flustered, Antilorwe sat there, gently stroking her crimson cheeks with the palm of her hands. She heard the closing of the door. The merry sounds of music from the main hall drifted like a gentle wind across her ears. She glanced up from her slender palms and allowed her pleasant contentment to sweep her insides. She wondered, how long it would take for the innocent mage to succumb to Urganza’s seduction. Despite their dissimilar personalities, Antilorwe was assured that both the Orc and the Mage would make a devoted couple.

Sighing at no one in particular, Antilorwe gently opened the ornate present -- the gift from Cyrene. With shaky fingers, she tugged the satin ribbon, letting the knot undo and flow loose. Extending her fingers, she delicately twisted the cap, while marvelling at the exquisite craftsmanship. Consoling herself that the contents held would be closest of Cyrene’s scent that she could indulge herself in, the Lady of the Manor, dabbed a generous quantity of the rich fragrant oils in her fingers. In smooth circular massages, Antilorwe spread her hands along the contours of her exposed skin. Her delicate digits pressed, tracing intricate paths along her shoulders. Caressing lightly the hollows and curvelets of her neck. The aroma wafted over her face.

Antilorwe slowly twisted the bottle in her long dainty fingers, squinting her hazel eyes hard to make out their names. She would have succeeded in reading the names were it not for the interruption in the form of her maid.

“Mistress, the Mage and the Overlord insist on your presence. Something about owing you the first dance,” said the maid with a scandalous note laced between each syllable.

Settling the fragrant bottle in her hands back in their case, Antilorwe dismissed her maid and suppressed the searing pain in her heart, before moving towards the main hall.

---

Urganza pressed her hands tightly while calming the suddenly surging wave of exhilaration in her heart as Cyrene entered the hall. A thin smile drawn across her lips, creases running all the way across her scarred cheeks upon meeting the bashful half-smile of the girl. Her lovelorn heart thrummed violently against her ribs when Cyrene floated beside her; her long raven hair held in braids and adorned with pearly ornament teased by an ethereal breeze.

Urganza took a sharp intake of breath, wishing that the wind could carry a tangible message to the adorable beauty in front of her. When those vibrant green eyes locked her own large fiery amber orbs and for the very briefest of moments, awe shredded through the Orc Warrioress. Struggled moans clung to her breath as her mind dissolved into a messy euphoria. Urganza lost all concentration as a hint of giggle burst from the girl’s pink-tipped lips.

“I do believe solitude has not been terribly boring. There have been some unfortunate setbacks while dressing,” said Cyrene with a coy smile behind her shy voice. Despite her best attempts, unbidden carnal thought roamed undisguised behind her eyes. Her pearly white teeth clasped on her lower lip in a seductive bite tantalizing the powerful orc.

There was no misinterpreting that action. Cyrene, despite the circumstances of her birth, was more a girl than any Urganza had met. Making her suitor wait for a long enduring long period, delighting for an extended time in the company of her female friends, basking in their own vanity in the comfort of their private chambers, only to appear pristine with an enchanting smile to twist a sweet blade of passion through her smouldering heart. Everything Urganza knew about the secret game of courtship fell into place. She was convinced that Cyrene, the shy girl, is undoubtedly playing the coy game.

As Cyrene neared, Urganza slowly closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the womanly smell emanating from Cyrene’s porcelain-white body. The mage was clad in a lustrous evening gown; the hem, too short to cover her pink thighs but still long enough for her hemispherical luscious ass. Throwing a longing glance, between her sultry thighs, Urganza thought herself blessed to gaze upon such perfection.

The scandalous evening gown somewhat accentuated her perfect hourglass figure. Wispes of rebellious long flowing hair, escaping the confines of her braid, cascading around her graceful neck. Her luscious coral lips seemed to offer encouragement as she flicked her hot pink tongue.

Urganza’s midsection quivered intensely, itching to embrace her. She ground against the tight leather of her breeches, betting with the hope that the wet spot from her arousal was not left visible. Even though the sensation was maddeningly painful, she found a warm smile spread on her tusked snout, her sweet succulent lips pursed and slightly parted from the lilt of giggles that trickled across the mage’s moist lips. Urganza loved the attention of the bewitching girl in the viridian evening dress.

“Orc Overlord, would you honour me by granting me a few moments of your time, before Antilorwe arrives?”

Without a thought, Urganza acquiesced. Whatever the Orc Overlord forced herself to utter, it was submerged in her own strangled whisper. Feeling a strange lump growing inside her throat, choking her words, the undaunting Orc Warrioress found comfort in the exchange of a small knowing smile with the lovely girl in front of her. Stepping closer, she gently pulled the small hand of Cyrene in hers. Even though Urganza had grabbed the hands of the mage before, now, the feeling that flowed between their touch, was different. Almost like wrapping palms tenderly around a thornless rose. She felt a rush of excitement, to cherish, to protect the humble girl before her.

“Of course,” responded Urganza carefully in a hushed voice. She did not relinquish the hold of Cyrene’s hand. It felt wonderful to be this close to her; again. The warmth flowing from her hand felt like liquid sunshine. Stretching her head forward, she carefully placed a soft kiss atop the glowing skin of Cyrene’s hand. Unconsciously, Urganza raised her eyes, only to catch the perky nipples of the girl struggling through the thin fabric of her viridian gown, responding eagerly to the acts of her lips.

Blush washed over Cyrene’s cheeks. The intensity, almost burning, as if the girl was shrouded in foggy mist dissipated by ethereal wisps of pearly white light, revealing her angelic complexion. Biting down on her lip, her tongue tasting the tip of her bottom lip, Cyrene struggled wordlessly.

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Urganza knew, without doubt, that whatever came next, was inevitable. She must say something or stand there until morning dawned. No more delay in making the decision. Urganza finally spoke, “Why call me by my title? Is my name not worthy enough to be uttered by your lips?”

While carefully freezing the hand of the Mage from hers, Urganza coaxed her finger into a tight fist. She then rubbed her thumb across the top of the girl’s curvy brow, relishing in their smoothness. With no sound escaping her luscious coral lips, nothing but a mere nod remained, a sign the girl wanted more. She slowly flicked the remnants of tendrils of long dark hair away from her face and pushed another sentence past her lips.

“Please, Cyrene we have so much to discuss.” Urganza breathed deeply, nostrils flaring widely with every inhale. Desperate for the girl to reply, she pleaded, “Tell me what you wish.”

Her desperate words were cut short when Cyrene shyly glanced and found herself staring into the bold smouldering gaze of Urganza. Summoning every vestige of her courage, she spoke, “I am conflicted.”

“About?”

“We have been acquainted during the affair in Arlond. Answer me in earnest, do you view me as a girl?”

Urganza watched the flush fade from the girl’s vibrant cheeks. Without stopping to ponder for a response that would satisfy her, Urganza directly intonated the feeling reaving in the depth of her heart; giving them voice.

“You are so beautiful. Too beautiful to walk among mortals. You have that certain look to make the soul sing. Your feminine charms are just too dear to resist.”

Swallowing the eagerness festering inside her soul, Cyrene trembled, fingers curled to calm the shaking.

Urganza opened her mouth and paused. She was unable to think. The thought occurred to her that Cyrene’s modesty was her most frustrating thing. There was very little for Urganza to grasp without any clarification. She quickly leaned closer, cupping the red pouting rosebud of the girl's cheeks in her callous hands, she added.

“You are every bit valid like any other girl. In fact, more so, in my eyes.”

Urganza’s soothing words enticed the mage into taking deeper breaths but her slender naked arms still twitched under the residual force mercilessly rioting inside her.

“I find myself repulsive. An aberration. A vile abomination never to roam the planes, mortal or otherwise.” Struggled Cyrene between shuddering breaths. She wrapped her long pale arms around her, hugging herself, drawing herself deep inside the prison of her mind. She tried to turn her face away, away from the stifling heat radiating from Urganza’s amber eyes but the gentle hold of her hands rubbed her cheeks consoling her inner core.

“Do you regret your decision?” asked Urganza.

“No. Never. Not even a tiny bit,” denied Cyrene vehemently, “It is those feelings I have developed. Isn’t it immoral for a girl to harbour lust for someone of her own gender?”

Her curious question only earned a rich vibrant chuckle from Urganza.

Silly girl! Urganza laughed at her own incompetence. Of course, the girl is daunted by all those feelings. It is every bit new to her. Naturally, she would be forced to face trepidations and apprehension without any support. Hence all those subtle clues and hints in the form of star charts.

Urganza offered a comforting pat on Cyrene’s head, reassuring her from her inner turmoil.

“You do know our mutual acquaintance, Former Matriarch Rylonvirah loves women. In fact, she plans to marry the Forge Marm and I hold them both in the highest regard.”

Cyrene, still unconvinced, fluttered her eyelids rapidly. The disagreement in her gorgeous face spread like a veneer of dark tenacious mask, consuming her entire face. “But she is born a girl. Never had to ....”

She paused while shifting uncomfortably,”....not....have to undergo....”She paused in confusion. “She .... honestly......never had to fight for her identity.”

Urganza raised her finger, pressing it all over her soft coral lips to silence her argument. Reaching forward, she slowly touched the pale peach cheek. Gliding across the face with her thumb, delicately rubbing the stream of hot liquid pouring from the clear well of her verdant eyes, the orc ignored the erratic beating of her own heart.

“Cyrene, your past does not make you any less legitimate. If your heart aches for the caress of a woman.....why chain what the heart desires with the expectation of society?”

At her words, the girl’s face blossomed a radiant joy, firming with determination. Cyrene closed her eyes in delight. The words of Urganza tore through her thick veil of apprehension. A fever, a fervent one, burned within the innermost core of her soul, leaving a heat imprint on her pink cheeks turning them bright crimson. That fiery glow danced on the edge of her delicate features. Cyrene decided, perhaps, she would take up Antilorwe’s offer of an idle chat over a glass of evening wine; the ideal atmosphere to reveal that powerful sexual imagery. Well, maybe not all of it. Some of it was too scandalous by High-elven standards, and her own; argued the oblivious girl.

The melodious music from the ornate box suddenly turned to a vibrant jubilant rhythm that send invisible tendrils shackling their bones to respond to the beat.

“Antilorwe,” stammered Cyrene, “As the Lady of the Manor, she the honour of the first dance.”

Seeing the girl raise her slender arms to beckon the ever-available maid, a sudden thrill rushed through Urganza’s spine. Like molten lava, it promised to raze every other emotion in its path, leaving only an enflamed wanton desire for the young girl in its wake. Looking at Cyrene’s graceful figure, admiring the ivory whiteness of her skin, the shapely stature of her slim figure, draped in the ethereal fog of shimmering dust, seeing the blooming fragrance of her smile as she slowly leaned to whisper, Urganza could only console the tumultuous beckoning in her heart with the inevitable certainty. Soon. Very soon. She would indulge Antilorwe with the customary dance, incite a bit of jealousy, just as planned and then she would shower the girl with her smouldering affection.

When Antilorwe promptly appeared, the subtle scent that lingered around the Elf Maiden, eroded all of Urganza’s purposefully erected defences.

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