Cecil the Wench Ch. 01

Cecil the Wench: Chapter 1 of The Bull and Mare Inn

Little is more satisfying for an adventurer after a long journey than to pull into an inn with a cozy fire, hot food, cold ale, comfortable beds, and a rousing wench or three. Perhaps no inn is more sought after than The Bull and Mare.

Patrons of all walks, all races, and all trades line the bar, crowd the tables, and even patiently wait outside on occasion. A passerby is as likely to see an elf warrior as a human mage, or a dwarf miner as an orc trader.

With such a crowd, one might expect all the aforementioned comforts of an inn are well supplied, and at a location most desirable. However, at The Bull and Mare, you will find none of those things. The ale is usually flat and warm, the food is poorly cooked if cooked at all, the beds are lumpy and hard, and the fire often roars on hot days and burns low on frigid nights.

Certainly the only thing that might warrant the throng traveling additional miles just to wait outside The Bull and Mare would be a wench of uncommon skill. Many a traveler, whether male or female, grizzled and experienced or young and bright-eyed, would happily bask in the company of a quality wench. Images come to mind of a tall woman with flowing hair, a pleasant face, and well-appointed bosom, whisking around the inn and attending to the guests' every want and need.

And yet, if the comforts of The Bull and Mare are a disappointment, then Cecil the Wench is no less than a travesty of inability, as equally likely to spill ale on a guest as to forget their presence entirely. And still, the crowd is boisterous and full of laughter. The reason why is rooted squarely in Cecil--all who come to the inn dream and pray to the gods that they might join in one of her many adventures, which began the day she arrived at the inn some years ago.

*****

Although it was a pleasant spring day, a cloud hung over Cecil. She trudged along a quiet path beside a stream, a pack slung over her shoulder, ignoring the singing birds which flitted over rolling hills and ducked between tranquil forests.

"Damn the witches!" she said. "I can't even enjoy this beautiful day. Rules this, procedures that, all I wanted was a little fun. Why be blessed as they are if you never have any fun? I'm in my early twenties, I'm supposed to have fun! I just wanted to enjoy the gift they gave me. And kicking me out, how extreme. At least I fled before they could unenchant me. I swear, you damnable witches, I will have my revenge!"

Cecil paused, fist in the air, on seeing an inn ahead.

"That looks as appealing as a pile of hog's shit. What idiot would build an inn out here, in the middle of nowhere?"

The inn might have once been cozy, but was now dilapidated. There were gaps in the roof thatching, chipped clay cladding on the walls, and cracked glass in windows giving it a less than inviting appearance.

"Well, maybe this could be just the opportunity I need..."

Cecil strode through the door, which nearly fell off its hinge as she pushed it open. A middle aged man, a touch on the portly side but was clearly handsome in his youth, scrubbed the bar mindlessly.

"Come in, come in!" said the innkeeper enthusiastically, all but shocked at the arrival of a guest. The edges of the innkeeper's thick but well-trimmed mustache curled up as he smiled with a nervous sincerity in his eyes. "Welcome to The Bull and Mare! Richard, at your service. The sack of potatoes sitting over there is my son Georg. What can we, eh, what can I do for you?"

Cecil paused to look at her surroundings. The interior was in no better condition than the outside, with wobbly chairs, dingy lighting and the floor in desperate need of a scrub. The inn was empty aside from Richard and Georg, who sat idly in the corner. The young man, appearing in his twenties, had looks which far outpaced his father's, with a strong jaw and surprisingly well clipped hair above his deep-set eyes.

"The young loaf is far overdue to find himself a wife, a husband, a job, anything, really. All he does is laze about here, with the full support of his mother. Anyway, what can we do you for?"

"You need a wench," Cecil said, her voice bright and ever so slightly mischievous.

Richard was taken aback, but took a closer look at Cecil. Instead of seeing what he desired in a wench - a tall, curvy, blonde with pale skin and a huge rack - Richard saw a very different figure. Cecil was short and slim, with light olive skin and pert but modest breasts. Her face was attractive, though it might be described more as pretty than beautiful, with freckled cheeks set high beneath her green eyes and curly brown hair framing her face. A soft and narrow jaw with a pointed chin matched her slender nose. Even her outfit was drab, a simple tan dress over a white shirt which covered her cleavage, and dusty leather boots.

"What are you getting at?" He asked, hesitant to take her bait.

"I'm currently available," Cecil cheerily replied. "Look around! You need a wench. Every inn needs a proper wench."

"Well, you're not quite what I'd expect for a wench," said the innkeeper.

"Oh come now, give me a try," she dipped her chin and raised a shoulder, looking as innocent and attractive as she was able.

"Your coy look is not a demonstration of what you can do!"

"Then let me demonstrate," Cecil said with a grin.

"Why not let her have a try, father," said Georg.

"That's a good boy," chirped Cecil, causing the innkeeper's son to blush brightly. "Let me have a try. It seems to be a bit quiet at the moment, why not a test?"

Cecil didn't admit she had no idea what being a wench entailed, other than the stories she had read in books about dashing women attracting customers with their charm - and the trysts that often followed.

"Fine then. First up is counting coins. How are your maths?" Richard said sternly, picking up a small pouch of nuts. "We'll pretend these are coins, you charge three pence for an ale, five for a bowl of stew, one for a crust of bread, eight for a night in the group rooms, fifteen for a private room. Ready?"

Cecil scurred behind the bar. "Of course!" she said with a wink.

Richard puffed up his chest then showered Cecil with nuts. "Oy, we have four ales up, here's coin, change split to two! I have four going to the group room and one to private, here's the coin, any leftovers are for the one in the private room! Two stews, one with bread! Did they shortchange us? Keep the counts clean!"

Nuts rolled off the bar and scattered over the floor. Cecil leaned over, squeezing her chest between her arms with her elbows on the bar.

"What are you doing! You missed every single nut!"

Cecil air-kissed at Richard, then grinned with pouty lips. "Oh, I'm so sorry, how could I be so careless. Maybe we could slow things down a bit, take a closer look together, side by side."

Richard's face burned. "You... you can't slow down! There will be too many patrons!"

Cecil looked at the innkeeper out of the corner of her eye. "How many stayed here last night? This week even?"

"There... there will be more!" Richard fumed. "It's the off-season. Nearby villages are growing, bandits are being cleared out, wait! Why am I justifying myself to you! You fail at counting! Can you at least pour ale?"

The innkeeper marched over to a stack of casks, one already tapped and ready to pour.

"I don't expect you to tap these yourselves, but patrons expect a clean pour, nice head, not too much froth, no dribbles down the mugs. Let's see it!"

Cecil grabbed a pewter mug and twirled it about her finger, shaking her hips as she walked. The mug flipped off, crashing to the ground. Instead of worrying over the dropped mug, she grabbed a new one and sauntered over to the cask. She squat low beneath the tap, spreading her legs suggestively beneath her dress. When she turned the spigot, ale sprayed out and soaked her shirt. Her nipples hardened and pressed against the thin, damp fabric.

"Oh dear, I've made a bit of a mess," Cecil said as she set the mug on the bar in front of Richard.

Richard slapped his cheeks in frustration. "The floor is soaked, you're soaked, and all that made it into the mug is froth! You wasted three mugs' worth! Can you at least clean?"

Richard pointed to the bucket and mop in the corner behind the bar. Cecil waltzed over. She slid the bucket beside the spilled ale. Taking hold of the mop with both hands, she turned her back to the innkeeper. Cecil moaned as she bent over, shaking her ass and sliding the mop over the floor. Ale splashed against the walls, the bar, and scattered further over the floor as Cecil flung the mop about, more focused on wiggling her rear than cleaning.

"What the hell is this all about!?" Richard fumed. "You can't count, you can't pour ale, you can't clean, what could you possibly offer as a wench!? Why are you wasting my time!?"

A smirk appeared on Cecil's face. "What I can offer is, simply, this!"

Cecil stepped out from behind the bar. Turning away from the flustered innkeeper and his son, Cecil reached down and grabbed the hem of her dress. She bent over a table and pulled the hem up over her waist with her legs spread wide, revealing a sight unhindered by undergarments.

"I was enchanted by the Witches of Clendol, my orifices will always be clean, wet and perfectly sized for whomever enters. Oh and child-free to boot. Come, try for yourself! Surely with me as a wench your inn will be bustling and full in no time."

Georg leapt to his feet. "Every orifice? Aren't your nostrils and ears orifices?"

Cecil sighed. "Let's keep it to the holes designed for sex, I don't want to see what happens when a cock cums inside my ear. Anway! Care for a sample of what could be the finest attraction at The Bull and Mare?"

Richard and Georg stared as Cecil's body glistened tensed with anticipation, her trim shaven pussy pulsing. She quickly found herself wondering about their delay, in part due to her boredom as she stared at a decaying wall yet also yearning for a cock as it had been far too long since she had lain with a man.

Tiring of the wait, Cecil turned around and marched to the innkeeper. She yanked down his trousers to reveal a semi-hard member. She thought it looked a fair enough cock, though felt a tad offended at it being half-mast despite seeing her in full.

She licked her lips and took the whole member in her mouth, pursing her lips down at the base. She swirled her tongue around the tip as she slowly pulled back, the cock fully erect as she flicked her tongue across the tip. She massaged his balls and licked from the tip to the base and back again before plunging the cock deep into her mouth and sucked with frenzy.

The quiet son knelt behind Cecil and pulled down her dress, pert breasts bouncing as they were freed from the garment. Georg's hands were unexpectedly soft as they massaged and squeezed. Cecil's pink nipples hardened at the caress. Appreciating his enthusiastic grope, she made to reward his attention.

Cecil slipped Richard's cock from her mouth, continuing to stroke it with her hand as she turned to the son. She grabbed Georg by his crotch and urged him to stand, yanking down his pants. His penis bounced out and throbbed. Cecil marveled at the sight, thinking he must be twice his father's size. She was transfixed on the trail of precum, wondering if it would taste as sweet as it looked.

Georg's cock proved a challenge for Cecil, but one she enthusiastically tackled. She sucked on his balls and lapped at the underside of the penis, the young man's entire body trembling at the tease. Cecil hungrily wrapped her lips around the tip when the cock began to convulse. Leaning away, she gripped her hand tight around the base of the son's member.

"Not just yet my eager stallion," Cecil said with a smirk. She released her grip on the cocks and took a step back, her face now flush with arousal. Cecil kicked off her boots, one crashing through a window and the other knocking over a chair. She slipped her dress over her hips, now fully nude. She sat on a barstool with her firm ass hanging off and bent over her knees. She grabbed her ass and spread her labia, enticing the men to enter. "Come now and see why the Witches of Clendol are so famed for their enchantments!"

Georg took no further invitation and rushed in front of his father. Hands on Cecil's hips, the young man lined the tip of his penis with her slit. With one giant thrust, he slammed his cock to its depths. Cecil gasped in delight and felt an orgasm rush through her body, face burning and legs convulsing in pleasure at the first cock she had in months.

The energetic son gave her little pause and began frantically thrusting, her wetness dripping down his thighs as her pussy performed as advertised, a perfectly sized hole of pleasure that massaged his every inch. Cecil groaned and squeaked with every vigorous thrust, the stool threatening to collapse. Richard positioned himself in front of Cecil and pinned her arms to her side. He pressed in until she took his entire length into her throat. The two matched in frantic pace, thrusting in one end as the other withdrew, sending waves of pleasure through Cecil.

The son's enthusiasm and inexperience soon overtook him. Georg tried to pull out to stave off an orgasm but a tidal wave of hot cum painted Cecil's back. The poor boy stammered and apologized for his early release. Richard pulled out from her mouth and Cecil was ready to give Georg some affirmation, but the innkeeper gave no pause for discussion.

"Move, boy, time to show you how it's done!"

Despite his feverish words, Richard began at a slower pace. He slid the tip of his cock up and down across Cecil's labia until they shone. He entered slowly, gliding Cecil's labia. As Richard pumped in and out, he varied angles and speed as Cecil's pussy embraced his cock at every turn.

Wanting to test Cecil's claims, Richard slid out until only the tip was still inside. He lined a finger up with his cock and slid them in together. Cecil moaned at the unexpected pressure and sensation of his finger, grinding herself back onto him. Richard's eyes bulged as her body adapted, her pussy clinging tightly to his cock and finger yet he was still able to thrust in and out with ease.

Cecil looked at Georg, the virile young man was leaning against the bar and stroking his cock, nearly hard again. She beckoned him over and took him in her mouth, savoring the taste of his cum mixed with her own sweetness. Richard meanwhile continued his exploration, taking his finger from her pussy and pressing it against Cecil's asshole. She wriggled back until Richard's finger breached the entrance and slid deep inside. Cecil moaned, the innkeeper proving surprisingly deft with his digit as he used the finger in her ass to massage his cock inside her pussy.

Georg, now fully erect and pumping deep into Cecil's mouth, returned to her breasts, pulling firmly at her nipples. The innkeeper increased his pace and rubbed Cecil's clit in circles, pushing her over the edge as she orgasmed again. Cecil saw stars, feet curling as she orgasmed, waves of pleasure cascading through her body.

Cecil's trembling lips were too much for Georg, and his second load of cum poured into Cecil's mouth which she greedily swallowed. The innkeeper didn't last much longer, and he roared as his hot cum filled her pussy.

Goergo stumbled away and collapsed into a chair. Richard flopped over Cecil, his warm chest cozy against her back.

"And what did you think of your sampling of one Cecil, blessed by the Witches of Clendol?" Cecil gloated after catching her breath.

Richard leaned back and squeezed her ass as his penis slipped out sending hot cum dripping to the floor. "I think you said something about being the perfect wench for The Bull and Mare? I think we have an opening for your openings."

Cecil turned to face Richard and grinned mischievously. "Well, before I accept, I do have some demands of my own."

"Demands?"

Cecil slipped a finger beneath his cock and slowly traced around his incredibly sensitive head. "Yes, demands."

"What... what are they?" he stammered.

"Hm," she said lazily, rubbing more intensely. "First, I get a room of my own, with a lock, and I get the only key."

Richard shriveled at the attention to his cock. "Yes, we have a room you can have for yourself!"

"Second," she said, grasping his balls with her other hand, "I choose who to sleep with. I have the freedom to decline anyone, including you. Use of my body is at my invitation. I'm a wench, employed by you, not your property."

"Of course!" the innkeeper squealed as Cecil increased her pace.

"Third, and last condition. For as long as I wish, I will be your only wench. I might come and go, have the occasional days away as I wish, but you are not to replace me until I tell you I am leaving for good."

Cecil tugged at Richard's semi-hard cock with both hands and spewed out. "Yes, yes..." he groaned.

Cecil pushed and Richard fell back into a nearby chair. She winked at Georg, whose cock was already starting to harden. The three looked amongst each other with rosy faces, and Richard gave a satisfied chuckle. Their calm was short lived, however, when the door to the inn swung open.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" roared a woman's voice, as ferocious as a dragon guarding its treasure.

"My wife!" screeched Richard.

How the trio avoided total calamity is another story entirely, but suffice it to say that after her performance, Cecil found herself employed as the wench of the Bull and Mare Inn.