The Wandering Whore: Book 1 - The Lazuli Lounge

The Wabbajack

"My name?" I ask, confused. She doesn't even know my name?

"Yes dear, your name. I don't bother to learn every little harlot's name that I happen to come across, but you've impressed me." Responds the [Madame].

"It's Sarah. Sarah Silverman" I respond, somewhat incredulously.

"Sarah Silverman...rolls nicely off the tongue, doesn't it, Alder?" She says with a purring undertone.

"Eh." Is all he responds with, still breathing heavily.

Genevieve rolls her eyes and gestures toward the door on the opposite side of the room. "Go wash up, Sarah. Afterward, you may find Isabell at the bar again and she will show you to your room."

"Okay..." I glance at Alder before crawling off the bed, any sensual atmosphere in the room now completely evaporated - leaving me naked and with the strange taste of Alder's cum still lingering on my tongue. Oddly, it reminds me of the way a freshly-cut lawn smells.

I go to grab my clothes off the floor before Madame Sable stops me. "You won't be needing those rags, dear. You'll also find the dressing room through that door - pick out an outfit or two. One for yourself and one for...work" She says before shooing me with a gesture that I assume to be a dismissal.

I still feel their eyes on my nude figure as I walk towards the door, opening it and passing through without a backward glance. On the other side is an elegant and organized room that I could only liken to a massive walk-in closet. Racks of garments, shoes, and accessories on one side, and a row of mirrors and sinks against the wall on the other side. I spot the bathtub in the center of a space adjacent to the mirrors - a large, stained-glass window made of frosted glass obscures the view of the outside.

I'm surprised and thankful that it has a faucet and running water despite there being no obvious pipes or plumbing anywhere in the room. I think of the strangeness of the situation that I now find myself in as I bathe in the perfectly-tempered water. The past fifteen minutes replay in my brain in vivid detail, the sensation of the dryad's warm semen filling my throat still fresh in my mind.

I exit the tub and dry off while making my way toward the selection of clothing displayed on the rack. Every item looks and feels to be of high quality despite obviously not being intended for outside wear - unless the occasion was a slutty renaissance fair, anyway.

I pick out a low-cut, white, lacey blouse. Tastefully tailored just long enough to cover just enough of my lower half to leave room for imagination. Picking out a pair of long, sky-blue socks that extend up to the middle of my thigh helps with the spring chill that lingers in the air while still leaving an enticing gap between them and the bottom of my blouse. Finally, a leather bodice with azure trim to match the socks and to help shape the blouse to my figure - as well as accentuate my cleavage, of course. This outfit is for "work" after all.

I pick another similar outfit for when I need to venture outside, but swapping the long socks for tight-fitting leather pants instead before placing the extra outfit in a linen tote bag I found hanging on a wall hook.

Stopping at the mirrors to examine my outfit and fix my hair, I notice a familiar shaped object made out of what looks to be wood laying on the smooth stone countertop.

Is that a dildo? I think to myself before noticing the growing wetness between my legs.

I didn't get to finish myself off earlier...

Something compels me to snatch it off the counter and place it in my bag before I can guiltily look around for any witnesses.

I need to get to my room, quickly. I think as a growing urgency to have something inside me makes me quickly exit the room to find Isabell at the bar.

"Hicanyoushowmewheremyroomis?" I say quickly as I approach her, my cheeks feeling warm with a blush that adds to my increasingly manic appearance.

Isabell furrows her brow as she looks at me inquisitively "Ummm...yeah, this way."

I follow closely behind her as she leads me up a set of stairs and points to a door with the number "12" mounted on it in glossy blue numbers.

"Here's your room, I take it the test went well then?" She asks as she looks at me with a twinge of concern in her eyes.

"Yepthanksbye!" I quickly step past her and through the door before closing it behind me, flinging myself and the bag onto the bed, taking the phallic object out, and examining it.

It looks like wood, but it feels...real? I notice that it's oddly warm and pliable in my hands before spreading my legs and placing it at my entrance.

Before I consciously make the decision, the dildo is already base-deep inside of me - I let out a moan before biting my hand to stifle the noise. My other hand seems to move by itself, quickly thrusting it in and out of my soaking wet pussy with the distinctive slapping sound that accompanies the furious need I have to orgasm.

I briefly notice that it's not my hand that is moving, but that it's the dildo that's moving my hand! I release it and let the hand grope my breast over the top of my bodice as the object fucks me.

"Ohgodohgodohgod" I moan into my hand as waves of pleasure rack my body. Again, a compulsion tells me to roll over so that I'm face-down on the bed - my back arches and sticks my ass in the air while the unknown force behind the dildo ploughs me into the bed so hard that the frame struggles to keep up.

*squeak*

The bedframe protests as long, deep thrusts rock me back and forth.

*squeak* *squeak*

I bite the covers as the thrusts speed up.

*squeak* *squeak* *squeak*

"Oh fuck!" "Fuck!" 'Fuck!" I moan aloud as I feel myself approaching my zenith.

*squeak squeak squeak squeak*

"Fuck!" "FUCK!" "FUCK!!" I'm now screaming too loud for my voice to be muffled by the bed, let alone the door and walls.

My lower body beings to shake and spasm and I begin to climax. The dildo doesn't relent as the orgasm continues to creep up my body until every part of me is shaking. My mouth is open in a silent scream as waves of pure pleasure explode from my cumming pussy.

I hear the door open followed by several gasps as my orgasm concludes with the fake cock falling out of me, apparently drained of whatever energy it once had.

"Found the Wabbajack, huh?" I hear Isabell's voice say from the doorway.