Into The Rift

Neglected Stronghold (54)

-0843 Military Hours
-Yerune, Grand Chancellery

A sheen of golden light sweeps through as I cast aside the blinds. The sun holds a shy glint, peaking just above the horizon to drape the city in that same morning hue. With a deep breath, the world stood still—tranquil like a lake long forgotten. The morning ambience is shaped by trotting carriages and distant proclamations of a Town Crier spouting the latest tidings to all who would lend an ear.

The winds gathered ever so often, but their strength is fleeting—fading just as swiftly as they appeared. The day has been cemented with a good shade, and it would only get better.

"A perfect start indeed," a smile lingers as I turn around. Even now, I stand in awe amidst this small, but luxurious guest room. A single bed, wardrobe, bathroom, and so much more. All catered to me and none others. Truly it would be fool's gambit to ignore such amenities.

Swiping a spare towel off the rack, the allure and comfort of a clean shower awaits. Past the privacy of a thin curtain lies a large tub, wreathed on one side with an assortment of soaps. Though there are plenty of choices, my trust lies with the ones that are honey scented—they last the longest through experience.

The water from last night has grown stale, and I briefly ponder over whether to drain, or to use it again. With time being of the essence, the bathtub as it is will have to do. Leaning over, my reflection gazes back—a glazed face, framed by flowing white curls that rested over one shoulder.

The longest strands dangled just below the chest—so a trim is definitely in order. Sliding both hands beneath the gown's bodice, I slowly ease apart the dress from my shoulders. It lazily pools at my feet in a gentle cascade of silken green, and soon the room's soft light falls on every part of me.

I leave the towel by a hook and place one leg into the tub—then two, and sink into its embrace, surrendering to a slight chill as the water's edge rises. The old scent of honey pervades with each breath, its sweetness still delectable from last night's affair.

Lathering both hands in that same scented soap, I glide the frothy sweetness across my arms, indulging in the renewed fragrance as the soap leaves its delicate trail behind—the feathery sensations trailing along my skin like a lover's touch.

The water, once harbouring a slight chill begins to warm as I sink deeper into its depths. My nose remains above the surface as I bring both arms below, seeking to repeat the cleansing on my chest.

A sigh escapes past my lips in this stolen moment of solace. The world loses its vigour, melting into an afterthought as I work down every contour of my body with arduous touches. Riding this wave of leisure, both hands descend past the stomach, finding safe harbour within the sacred cove of my legs. That delicious surge only emboldens a deeper venture, and so I thrust until my two fingers could no longer do so.

The water strikes like a fervent blade as that aching core burns with want, parting both legs further. They surrendered, giving way and curling until both knees perched above the surface. Thought and embarrassment leaves like the fading tides, and wanton desire consumes every priceless moment. That emptiness begged to be answered.

The velvety depths simmer with a yearn born of wanton desire—my own desire. A certain slickness coats my fingers, forcing a yelp of pleasure to spawn. So good.

With a slight twitch, a flush of toe-curling pleasure—and another, until they meld into a mist of unending pleasure. So delightfully... sinful. The devious thought stills my fingers, but only for a moment. It is a lull soon cast aside for a delightful romp of carnal indulgence. Anything to fulfill that emptiness.