Lyra watched Esther stir from sleep, and she immediately rose to prepare a modest tray. She brought the tea, not quite hot, and some leftovers from last night's supper, reheated gently over the embers. Esther accepted it with a grateful, tired smile. Once she had finished, Lyra gathered the sacred garments, now miraculously clean and whole. "It's incredible," Lyra commented, holding up the shirt that had been torn and stained just yesterday. "To wake and find everything renewed." Esther gave a small, wry chuckle. "It's the only blessing from the Goddess that seems to be working for me," she said, pulling the chemise over her head. "Though I would have preferred something less... provocative." Lyra's brow furrowed slightly. "The Goddess's choice of attire... it doesn't align with what the scriptures teach." Esther looked at her, intrigued, as she stood to dress, giving Lyra a clear view of her breasts and then her backside as she pulled on the skirt. "Sexual asceticism wasn't always the Church's stance," Lyra explained, her voice a little lower. "The old faith, the one you still find in the countryside... they believe the opposite."
Esther seemed not to notice how Lyra's breath caught at the sight of her body. "If we're going to travel, there are things we need," Esther said, her tone all business. "I was thinking of buying a horse and a map." She turned to Lyra. "Do you know how to ride?" Lyra nodded, though a thoughtful worry crossed her face. "I do, but won't a horse be a great expense?" "A little," Esther admitted, "but I thought we could sell it again when we reach Dry Port. We might lose some money, but it shouldn't be too much." Lyra agreed, though she couldn't help but picture herself pressed against Esther's back on horseback for days on end, and a strange heat bloomed in her chest. "Will you need help?" Lyra offered. "No," Esther said, strapping her last boot on. "Stay here if you don't need anything. I'll be back later. I want to talk with the blacksmith anyway, to make sure everything is ready for me in the morning." With a final nod, Esther was gone.
The moment the door clicked shut, Lyra's composure crumbled. Her eyes fell on the chemise Esther had just discarded. She couldn't resist. She quickly stripped off her own habit, standing in only a tight, white pair of cheeky panties. She pulled Esther's chemise over her head; the fabric was soft and clung to her, and because Esther was shorter, it barely reached the top of her thighs. She brought the collar to her nose, inhaling the scent that was uniquely Esther's—clean skin, a hint of forest, and something warmer, more intimate. She sat on the edge of the bed, her legs falling open as she imagined Esther's nude form, pictured herself in the bed last night, her hands roaming over those full breasts, making Esther gasp. While the scent filled her lungs, her other hand moved between her legs, her fingers finding the sensitive nub of her clit and circling it without mercy. Knowing she was alone, she let out a soft moan, which quickly grew louder. Her hips bucked as she slid two fingers inside herself, stroking deep and hard, chasing a brutal, shattering orgasm that left her breathless and trembling.
Once the waves of pleasure subsided, Lyra felt a strange sense of calm settle over her. She looked at herself in the small, polished piece of metal that served as a mirror, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed, wearing Esther's too-short shirt. A mischievous, defiant thought struck her. Instead of changing back, she decided to leave the shirt on. She would tell Esther, if she asked, that her own clothes needed washing. For now, she would keep this small, secret piece of her close.
Esther's first stop was the stable of Brom, the wealthiest and most arrogant farmer in Three Mills, a burly man who owned the finest horses in the region. When she arrived, he looked her up and down, his gaze lingering shamelessly on her chest before a crude, condescending smile spread across his face. "Well now, good morning. And what can I do for a pretty young thing like you?" he asked, not bothering to meet her eyes. Esther, wanting no trouble, stated her need: a sturdy horse for a long journey to the League's lands, carefully omitting her final destination. The man chuckled. "You think it's safe for a little girl to travel all that way alone?" She bristled but kept her tone even. "I'm not traveling alone," she said, leaving it at that, though she knew if she were with a man, he would be the one negotiating the price.
He led her to a magnificent black mare, its coat gleaming with health, and named a price so exorbitant it was almost an insult. Esther knew he was gouging her because she was a woman. She protested, arguing that even for the best mare, the price was outrageous. The man's smile widened, and he pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket. "I'll make you a deal," he said, his voice low. "Wipe the sweat off yourself with this. The sweat on your tits. I'll knock thirty percent off. What do you say?" He was confident; he knew that in this village, no one else had horses this fine. Esther wanted to cry. She looked down, defeated, and quickly dabbed the cloth on her chest. "Hold on," the man said, stopping her. "On the inside, too." She sighed, her face burning, and slid the cloth under her bra, careful not to reveal anything. The man brought the handkerchief to his nose, inhaling deeply right in front of her, and she couldn't help but see the erection straining against the fabric of his trousers. Disgust roiled in her stomach.
She pulled out the money to pay him, refusing to meet his gaze as he took the coins and handed over the mare's lead. Determined to leave, she decided to ride away immediately. As she swung herself into the saddle, the man called out, "You know, if you don't want to be treated like a whore, maybe you should try not showing your underwear every time you wiggle your ass." Esther said nothing. His words were a punch to the gut, and they were true. Utterly humiliated, she rode off without a backward glance, her head held high in a desperate attempt to cling to a shred of dignity as she made her way toward the map maker's shop.
After tying the black mare to a post outside, Esther entered the only shop in Three Mills that sold maps. It was a dusty little place, run by a thin, elderly man named Master Eamon. He was a well-spoken man, but his eyes were sharp, and they constantly roamed over Esther's body whenever he thought she wasn't looking. "A map to Dry Port and the surrounding area," Esther said, her voice steady despite the crawling sensation on her skin. "I'm traveling to the League's lands and I need to get there." "Of course," Eamon said, fetching a large rolled parchment. "I have the very best. Detailed, with all the roads, inns, and... points of interest." He spread it across the table. As he explained the map, his "accidents" became more frequent. He'd lean over to point out a road, letting his arm brush against the side of her breast. He'd hand her a rolled chart, and his fingers would "slip" and caress her hand. Each time, Esther tensed, but she said nothing. She knew if she complained, no one would sell her a map at all. Her nipples hardened traitorously at the touches, and the man, leaning in close, rested the back of his hand directly over one, letting it press into the sensitive flesh as he spoke. As he explained, his hand began to move in a slow, circular massage. Esther felt her body responding with a treacherous warmth, and she hated herself for it. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she lowered her gaze, knowing she had to endure it.
Just as she felt she couldn't take any more, a familiar, long-dormant voice cut through the haze of humiliation in her mind. If it were up to me, I'd kill him right now, her brother's voice sneered, but you need that map. You need it. The words, cold and violent as they were, gave her a sliver of strength to hold on. Finally, the man reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering to caress her cheek as if he owned her. Esther managed a quiet thank you for the explanation, paid for the map, and took the roll of parchment. The man gave her back a Letter of Change, winking as he told her it was a discount for being "so agreeable."
She hated herself for letting these things happen. She hated the people in this village for preying on her. But most of all, she hated the tell-tale dampness she could feel growing in her underwear, a physical proof of her body's betrayal. She mounted the horse, deciding to go back to the cottage for lunch with Lyra. She needed to calm down before facing the blacksmith again that afternoon. She would see him later, when she was more composed. She was a hero, after all, even if she didn't feel like one right now.
When Esther opened the cottage door, she found Lyra on her hands and knees, her rear end clad only in her tight white undergarments as she searched for something under a small cabinet. The sound of the door made Lyra jump up, a triumphant smile on her face as she held up a squirming rat that had escaped during feeding. The absurdity of the situation struck Esther, and a genuine laugh escaped her, easing some of the tension from the morning. "There's a horse outside," Esther said. "If you want to see it." Lyra peeked out the door, her eyes widening at the sight of the beautiful black mare. "i was going to come home later, but i was tired" Esther said. "And maybe if I stop by the blacksmith's before he closes, my order will be ready." Lyra nodded, then gestured to the chemise she was wearing. "I have to wash my clothes, and I didn't have anything else." Esther smiled, pulling out a few of her own garments. "Here, try whatever you like. By the Goddess's will, I have to wear this anyway." Lyra accepted gratefully, the scent of Esther still clinging to the shirt she wore.
After they ate the simple lunch Lyra had prepared, Esther's shoulders slumped. "I had a bad morning," she admitted. "I'd like to practice healing. I think it would make me feel better." Lyra wanted to suggest she rest, to let her emotions settle, but seeing the determination in Esther's eyes, she simply nodded. When the heroine was down, Lyra's every instinct was to hold her, to offer comfort, but she couldn't bring herself to take such a liberty. Esther sat at the table, and Lyra brought two rats. "You could try transferring a wound from one to the other," Lyra suggested, "but that might be too advanced. For now, let's just work on spreading the damage even more finely than yesterday." Esther looked confused. Lyra smiled, making a tiny, almost invisible nick on a rat's belly. She then healed it, and when Esther looked at her questioningly, Lyra raised her arm, showing her smooth armpit. A few fine hairs had vanished. "Hair is part of our body, too." A small laugh escaped Esther, and Lyra joined in. Esther tried the same, though with less hair to work with, it was harder. Her first attempt resulted in a small cut on her own shoulder, but the second was perfect. "I've never seen anyone learn to control the transfer so quickly," Lyra said, lying again, but the effect was immediate. Esther beamed. "I want to try a bigger wound," she said. "I still feel strong." Though hesitant, Lyra agreed, making a deeper cut on the second rat. Esther healed it, her body absorbing the damage with barely a perceptible shudder.
"Are you alright?" Lyra asked. "Just a little tired," Esther replied, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "Get some rest," Lyra said. "I'll pack what we'll need for tomorrow." Esther agreed and went to lie down, falling into a deep sleep within minutes. Lyra, however, used the excuse of packing to watch her, her gaze lingering on the curve of Esther's ass, visible where her short skirt had ridden up. When Esther awoke, it was late afternoon. Time to see the blacksmith. After a quick farewell to Lyra, she headed out, a few Letters of Exchange tucked safely in her purse to pay for the completed gear.
When Esther arrived at the forge, Kael was just putting the finishing polish on the edge of her short sword. "Is it ready?" Esther asked, her voice carefully neutral. The blacksmith looked up, and for a moment, his usual clumsy admiration was replaced by something else, something more serious and nervous. "Yes, it's all ready," he said, setting the sword down on the anvil. He wiped his hands on his apron and hesitated. "But... before you go, there's something I'd like to say. If you'll let me. In private." Esther frowned, confused, but nodded. "Close the door," he said, his voice trembling. Esther obeyed, the heavy bolt sliding home with a clang that sealed them in the intimate, closed space of the forge. Kael took a deep breath, as if gathering all his courage. "Look... I know it's crazy, and I know you don't feel the same, but I've been in love with you for a long time. Almost since the first time I saw you." His words came out in a rushed torrent. "And I know that now that you're the Chosen One and you're leaving, anything between us is impossible, but... I wanted to ask you for something. As a last memory. Could you... kiss me?" His face was completely red. "I've never kissed anyone. I was waiting for you. And I'd like my first kiss to be with you. And if you say yes... you don't have to pay me anything more for the equipment." Esther froze, completely shocked, the blood rushing to her cheeks. She hadn't expected this. Her mind, accustomed to deceit and danger, didn't know how to process such a raw and sincere confession. "What... what kind of kiss?" she managed to ask, her voice a whisper. "A real one," he said, with an almost painful innocence. "A lover's kiss. Nothing more, just that." She hesitated. Maybe it was the mana drain, or the exhaustion from the morning's humiliations, but she was tempted. She had never kissed anyone either, and a deep fear ran through her: if she kept dealing with people like the farmer or the mapmaker, would her first kiss be stolen by some disgusting old man? And besides, the free equipment was a blessing she desperately needed. So, with her heart pounding, she finally agreed. Since she was relatively short and he was tall and muscular, he asked softly, "To be more comfortable... do you want to sit on my lap? I promise, I won't try anything more than kissing you." Esther agreed, moving awkwardly.
She sat on his lap, feeling the heat of his body through their clothes and the solidity of his thighs. Then, he leaned in, and their lips met. The kiss was not timid. It was deep, long, and exploratory. It lasted for minutes, an eternity in which the outside world disappeared. He kissed her with a mix of tenderness and a hunger held back for years. His lips moved against hers, testing, tasting. Then, with a delicacy that made her shiver, he slid his tongue between her lips, which parted to let it in. Their tongues met, and Esther felt an electric jolt. Kael's was not timid or hesitant; it was firm, knowing what it wanted. It circled hers, pursued it, gently cornered it inside her own mouth. Esther, inexperienced, responded by instinct, imitating his movements, learning the rhythm of this intimate dance. He sucked gently, pulling her tongue into his mouth, and she imitated him, losing herself in the sensation, learning and responding to every movement. The game became more urgent. Their tongues twined, one against the other, exploring every fold, every texture. Sometimes it was soft and slow, a wet, comforting massage; other times it was fast and deep, almost a struggle for dominance that she let him win with a submission that both excited and terrified her. They knew each other completely, the taste of metal from the forge on him mixed with the sweet, nervous taste of her. As the kiss deepened, Esther felt a warmth grow in her belly, a wetness that surprised and embarrassed her in equal measure.
Kael's hands, which had initially been inactive at his sides, began to move. One rose to her back, caressing her gently, while the other descended, resting on her ass. First, he caressed her over her skirt, his large, hot palm pressing gently. Esther trembled, but she didn't pull away. She was completely intoxicated by the kiss, by the sensation of being desired in a way that wasn't threatening, but sincere. Emboldened by her lack of rejection, Kael dared more. He slid his hand under Esther's skirt. The skin of her thigh was soft and hot. His hand rose until he felt the curve of her ass through the thin fabric of her panties.
Kael's arousal was a hard, solid pressure against her through their clothes. Esther shifted instinctively, pressing herself down against him, grinding the soaking fabric of her underwear against that rigid heat. A small moan escaped her lips into his mouth, her back arching on its own. The control she always fought to maintain over her body was dissolving, melting away under a wave of pleasure that left her breathless. Emboldened, Kael's fingers hooked under the elastic of her panties. The fabric gave way, and his hand slid inside, finding the bare, smooth skin of her ass. The direct contact was an inferno. Esther felt a jolt of heat that shot from her head to her toes. He caressed her, palming the full, heavy weight of her, then his fingers clenched, digging into her flesh with a possessive grip that made her moan again into his mouth. It was a pleasurable pain, a mark of ownership she accepted without question. His hand moved, exploring the cleft between her cheeks. His calloused fingers, rough from the forge, slid over the sensitive skin until they found the very center. With a startling delicacy, he spread one of her cheeks, exposing her completely to the air of the forge and to his gaze. The gesture was so intimate, so dominant, that Esther felt her knees weaken.
Kael felt that if he continued, he would end up undressing her, and Esther was far more pliant than he had ever imagined. So he was the one who gently withdrew his hand from her ass and then pulled away from her bit by bit. Esther, addicted to the pleasure of his mouth, kept her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, her tongue peeking out as if waiting for him to continue. "That's enough," Kael said, his voice hoarse. "If we don't stop now, I won't be able to." She remained silent, lowering her gaze after opening her eyes, and Kael stroked her cheek. "Thank you." Esther separated from him, and Kael moved to the other side of the counter so she wouldn't see the erection he was sporting. He handed her all the equipment she had requested, and after saying goodbye as if they would see each other again soon, she left.
The ride back on the horse was torture. Her sex was completely soaked, and she felt an overwhelming urge to touch herself, but she didn't know how. She had never masturbated in her life. She knew it existed, but she didn't know exactly how to do it. She didn't know who to ask. The only person she had now was Lyra, but she was a nun, and Esther felt her own image in Lyra's eyes was already tarnished enough.
Back at the cottage, Esther decided against sharing any details of what had transpired at the forge. She simply showed Lyra the new equipment with a forced smile, laying it all out neatly, ready to be packed in the morning. A restless energy thrummed beneath her skin, a persistent, demanding ache between her thighs that made her want to squirm. She tried to ignore it. "We should get to sleep early," she said, her voice a bit too bright. "That way we can leave at first light." Lyra readily agreed. This time, without any prompting, Esther began to undress, stripping down to her pink lace bra and matching panties. She tried not to blush, turning her back to Lyra, imagining she could see the dark, wet spot on the thin fabric. Trying to think of anything else, Esther asked, "Can you... hold me again?" Lyra murmured a quiet "yes" and slid into bed, turning her back to Esther. The feeling of her full, soft breasts pressed against Esther's shoulder blades sent a jolt of pure electricity through Lyra, though for Esther, it was just a comfort she needed to distract herself from the memory of the blacksmith's kiss.