The Difficult Dwarfmaid

Temora shaded her face against the sun as she approached the city of Kakila. Though it was only the early days of spring, the sandy dunes that wound around the coastal city radiated heat, and the leather coat she usually wore hung loose over her shoulders, grilling under the sun. Her cotton shirt was sticky and damp, and so were her rough trousers. Kakila was an ancient, walled city made from gold sandstone common to these parts, marked by old minarets and the faces of their strange gods rising as obelisks from the well-trod highway that led into the city.

"Impressive, isn't it?" the eunuch said as he rode alongside her upon his camel. He was a dwarf, rare in the northlands she came from but common enough in the Western Reaches.

"Yeah," Temora asked, looking away from the city. She was a dark-haired woman of medium height and athletic build, grey eyes set in sunburned, well-traveled skin that made her appear older than she really was. "You're certain your Lady will wish to hire me?"

"She is very interested in your particular... gifts," the dwarf said, his voice oily and feminine. His head was shaved beneath the turban he wore, she knew, and he reeked of cheap perfume. His eyes were dotted with kohl. After she'd departed from the Highlands on her way to Kakila, she had encountered him in the process of being robbed and fought off the assailants. Since then he'd been kind enough to let her join his little caravan, and feed her along the way. And perhaps, as she'd performed her tales and played her songs, she'd told him a few too many things. He was generous with his wine, and his sexlessness made her feel at ease when it came to discussing her exploits.

But she'd play the coy girl for now. "Surely you mean my gifts with this," Temora replied, smirking as she waggled her flute at him. "A pretty bard such as I, performing for a Lady's court?"

The dwarf smiled. "I can think of more than a few people who'd pay a lot for your skills, Temora. And the Lady has many friends, who she likes to entertain. You'll be a worthy addition to her household in Kakila."

Temora kept up her winsome smile. She was here on a mission, and if entering a dwarven noblewoman's household got her closer to her goals, she would do what it took.

They passed into the gates of the city, the dwarf paying the guardsmen tolls for their entry. The interior was busy and bustling with traders who roamed the bazaar, their great mules and camels stinking and shitting everywhere. Wine jugs and amphoras of perfume and oil were passed about. The seaside city, the capital of the Western Reaches, drew travelers from all over the world. Temora even saw a few brown-skinned, pale-eyed northerners like herself. She made sure to keep her face turned away, lest anyone recognize her. As far as everyone back home knew, she was dead and gone, and she preferred it that way.

They passed through the markets and headed towards the wealthier parts of town. Soon enough the homes and buildings were constructed of fine marble and granite, rather than the rough-hewn sandstone. The houses turned to a series of mansions, clustered around and old and ancient palace. "That's where the Greatlord of Kakila lives. My Lady lives nearby, among the mansions of the noble houses. Be wary and speak not to anyone who does not address you." Noble women in their flowing western silks, veils covering their faces, passed by seated on palanquins carried by their servants.

"I find it surprising the Greatlord allows a non-human to live so close to his palace. I had heard the Western cities were quite diverse, but segregated."

The eunuch raised his eyebrows. "Ah, but my Lady comes from a great house. You shall see, you shall see. We approach!"

The mansion was a massive building, with four walls and a large central courtyard. A marble fountain stood in the center, and the gardens were filled with exotic trees and flowers. A small grove of olive trees was in the center. Servants in the livery of the House moved through the courtyard, cleaning, washing and doing the chores necessary for the functioning of the estate.

"Come, come!" the eunuch said, leaping from his saddle. Temora followed.

"Lady Yalid!" the eunuch called out as he entered the mansion. A beautiful dark-skinned servant girl appeared. "My Lady will see you at once," the dwarf said. "Come, follow."

"You're not coming?"

"Not I," the eunuch replied, shaking his head. "I have other matters to attend to."

Temora shrugged and followed the servant girl through the halls of the mansion. The architecture was unlike any she'd seen before, with tall ceilings and arched windows and doors that overlooked the courtyard. The walls were covered with fine murals and frescoes. Temora couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship.

They arrived at a set of double doors, carved with images of dancing girls. The servant opened the doors and ushered Temora inside. The room was a large bedroom, with a canopied bed and a sitting area. At the center was a divan, and reclining on the divan was a dwarven woman. She was olive-skinned, with long black hair and dark brown eyes. She was clad in silken trousers and a sequined blouse. Her full figure, with thick dwarven hips and a robust bosom, was accentuated by the sheer fabric. Her face was delicate and beautiful, with high cheekbones and full lips. She had a small, pert nose, and her eyelids were lined with kohl, like the eunuch. She looked up at Temora with a cool gaze.

"Come, sit," the Lady Yalid said, gesturing to the chair across from her. Temora did so, settling her leather coat down and resting her arms on the wooden armrests. The Lady's gaze was cold and appraising in equal turns, and Temora felt as though she were being undressed, both of her clothes and her mental defenses.

"So, you are the bard they call Honeytongue. I heard tell you have caused quite a stir in the Highlands and the lands beyond them." She gestured to the serving girl to pour them cups of wine. "Do you play well, I wonder?"

"I know a thing or two about music," Temora replied, taking a sip of the wine. It was excellent. "And I have been told I have a way with words."

"And a way with women, too, no?" Yalid chuckled, taking a long draught of wine. "The Nymph Queen sent envoys to every corner of the continent, even here. She's still quite upset that you seduced her daughter."

Temora stiffened. She had thought herself far enough away from the Karyg country to be safe, but it appeared otherwise. "I did not leave her court on the kindest of terms," she admitted. "Will you turn me in?"

Yalid waved a dismissive hand. "The Nymph Queen has nothing to offer me. But I'd stay out of the public houses around here. Someone might turn you into the Greatlord, and he would have no qualms about sending you back to the Karyg."

Temora could tell there was more to Yalid's generosity than what she said. The dwarven noblewoman had an ulterior motive, and it had something to do with her.

"You seem like a woman who is used to getting what she wants," Yalid said. "Tell me, what do you want? What is it you seek?"

Temora looked the Lady Yalid in the eye. "What I want is no concern of yours."

"You're wrong," Yalid replied. "I know you have traveled a long way, and that you are here for something important. Perhaps I can help."

Temora paused. She had not told anyone about her quest, and yet somehow this stranger had guessed. "I am seeking something," Temora replied. "Or rather, someone."

Lady Yalid smiled coolly. "You're not after my father, are you?" She shifted her legs and took a long sip from her wine cup. "He has his share of enemies, but I didn't count a wandering bard amongst them."

Temora raised her eyebrows. "I don't know who your father is, but given you live in a mansion in the shadow of the Greatlord's keep, in a city that abhors dwarves, he must be a powerful man." She sipped the wine and grimaced. It was sweet and cloying.

"He's the Lord of the Blackhill, the dwarven realm I hail from." Her Western accent faded briefly, evincing a Subterranean twang. "I merely represent him in the Greatlord's court, since we were made his subjects."

Temora nodded. The Western Reaches were a vast and diverse territory, with many races and cultures, and the Greatlord had conquered them all. He had been the first to unite the disparate tribes and peoples under one banner. By coin, by influence, or by the sword - the Greatlord ruled.

And he funneled his wealth to evil people, including the ones who had ravaged her homeland.

It was clear that Lady Yalid was a rare and powerful dwarf, one of the few who lived outside of the Blackhill realm and could move freely among humans. Her status as the daughter of a lord, and her wealth, no doubt afforded her certain privileges.

Yalid took another long sip, and then set the cup aside. "So now that you know who I am, know that I am wealthy and powerful, will you tell me your purpose?"

Temora weighed her options. Yalid did not seem an altruist and Temora had no doubt that she would be used and discarded if the need arose. However, if Yalid had information that could help her find what she was looking for, it would be worth the risk.

"I want to meet him."

"Who?"

"The Greatlord."

Yalid laughed, a cold, dark sound almost masculine in timbre. "You wish to meet the most powerful man in the world, the man who rules the Western Reaches and has his hands in every pot? He's notoriously paranoid, by the way. He rarely ever shows his face, and never leaves his Keep. If you want to meet him, you must be invited."

Temora frowned. "So you will not help me, then?"

"Oh, I will help you. I just have to see if you're worth my time."

Temora was silent for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Yalid's eyes roamed over Temora's form hungrily. "I wish for you to perform for my guests tonight. And if you perform satisfactorily, I have no doubt I can get you an invitation to perform for the Greatlord. I've heard your songs are often quite... bawdy."

Well, that wasn't so bad a deal.

"Very well," Temora replied. "I know a few things that will entertain them."

"Good. My staff will get you a room and draw you a bath."

Temora nodded, standing up and collecting her flute. Yalid's gaze roamed over her form once more, lingering on her breasts. Temora indulged her, bending over to display her ample cleavage.

"Do you have something more revealing to wear?" Yalid asked.

Temora smirked. "I'll wear whatever you supply."

Yalid smiled in return. "Excellent."

Temora bowed her head, and then turned and left. As she exited the room, she could feel the dwarf's eyes boring into her back.

#

As promised, a servant showed her to a guestroom. The furnishings were opulent. The bed was a large, canopied affair, and the window overlooked the gardens. Temora sat down on the bed, marveling at the softness. It was the most luxurious place she had ever stayed.

The servant girl returned after a while and bowed deeply. "A bath has been drawn for you, m'lady. Down the hall."

Temora followed the servant, and was led to a bathing chamber. There was a large, deep pool, and the walls were decorated with etchings depicting nubile nymphs and satyrs. Steam rose from the water, and the scent of sandalwood and citrus filled the air.

Temora started to unbutton her blouse, but the serving girl stopped her.

"Let me," the girl said, her voice calm and quiet. She began to unbutton Temora's blouse, slowly revealing her golden brown curves and dark nipples. Temora stood still, her eyes looking over the serving girl's delicate features. She had a small, round face, a slender nose, and wide brown eyes. Her black hair was braided into a bun, and her dark skin was smooth and unblemished. Her mouth was full and red, and her lips glistened. She was shorter than Temora, and her body was slight. She smelled of rosewater and jasmine.

The serving girl slid Temora's blouse off, letting it fall to the floor. Her hands drifted over Temora's skin, leaving a trail of warmth. She ran her fingers over Temora's breasts, caressing her nipples. Temora gasped, arching her back.

"Are you pleased with me, milady?"

"Yes," Temora breathed.

The servant girl smiled, and began to unlace Tamara's trousers. They fell to the floor, revealing Temora's firm, muscular ass and thighs, clad in simple, white underwear, yellowed from harsh days traveling. The servant girl slipped her hands beneath the waistband, sliding the fabric down Temora's legs. She knelt down, placing a soft kiss on each thigh. Temora shivered, feeling a familiar heat growing in her cunt.

"Come," the girl said, holding out her hand. Temora took it, allowing the servant girl to guide her into the water. The water was warm and soothing, and the sandalwood and citrus oils helped her relax.

"Does the temperature please you, milady?" the servant girl asked, her voice soft and melodious.

"Yes," Temora whispered. She sank down into the water as the girl kneeled by the edge of the pool.

"Close your eyes," the girl commanded.

Temora obeyed, letting the heat wash over her. She felt the girl's hands on her shoulders, massaging her gently. She leaned into the touch, her breathing growing heavy. The servant girl began to hum a soft melody, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Temora closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of the girl's hands.

"What is your name, girl?" Temora asked.

"Nuraya," the girl replied, her voice a low, sweet whisper.

"You have a lovely voice, Nuraya," Temora said.

"Thank you, m'lady."

Temora opened her eyes and gazed into the servant girl's deep brown eyes. The girl was young, no more than eighteen years old. Her body was slim and supple, her breasts small and pert. She had an air of innocence about her, despite her duties.

"How did you come to serve Lady Yalid?"

"I was given to her father as a gift from the Greatlord."

Temora stiffened. "So you are a slave."

The girl nodded, her expression neutral.

Temora felt a flash of anger, her muscles tensing. "That is a terrible fate," Temora said. "I cannot enjoy you like this. As a... bauble, a bribe, offered up."

"But do you not find me comely, milady?"

Tempura's loins quivered. Her urges, her hedonism wanted her to take her pleasure with this girl, as she usually did. But she knew it would be wrong. "I do. And I would gladly fuck you, were you won righteously. I am a seducer of women, it's true, but I will not take what is not earned nor given freely."

Nuraya looked down at the floor, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, milady," she murmured. "You are kind. I am happy to wash your hair and finish bathing you... without any other activities," she said, giggling a bit into her hand.

Temora relaxed again, leaning into Nuraya's touch. The servant girl resumed her gentle humming, running her fingers through Temora's shaggy black hair. Temora closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensations. Nuraya lathered Temora's hair with sandalwood-scented soap, massaging her scalp.

After a while, Nuraya stood and dipped a cloth in the water, then used it to gently cleanse Temora's body. She rubbed the cloth over Temora's skin, her movements slow and deliberate. Temora could feel her arousal growing, but she contained herself until her bath was finished.

#

After the bath, Nuraya guided her to her bedroom.

"Good evening, milady," she said. "The eunuch will come take you to the great hall in a bit. I suggest you get dressed." She bowed deeply and left. Temora ruefully watched her swaying hips as she walked away.

Damn it! She hated being a good person.

She turned and examined the dress that had been laid out for her.

Temora sat down on the bed, and looked around the room. She noticed the dress that had been laid out for her. It was a sheer, gossamer confection, with a low-cut neckline and a long slit up the side. She was still nude, and she looked around for any undergarments that would go with the dress. She found nothing, and sighed, resigning herself to wearing the dress without them.

The dress was a tight fit, the hem barely reaching the tops of her thighs. It was a good thing, she supposed, that it was the only dress. She slipped her arms through the straps and adjusted the bodice. She admired her reflection in the mirror. Her dark nipples were clearly visible through the fabric, and her full breasts were pushed up and together.

Temora felt a familiar warmth growing in her belly, and she bit her lip. She had always had a weakness for fine things, and this dress was no exception. The feel of the fabric against her skin was exquisite, and the sight of her own body, wrapped in such finery, aroused her. Her cunt was still hungry after the tease in the bath chamber, and she knew a particularly raunchy performance was likely oncoming.

She withdrew her flute from her rucksack. The instrument was carved from bamboo, the embouchures shaped by her father in days of old. She put the mouthpiece to her lips and blew a few experimental notes. The sound was clear and bright, and she adjusted the stops until she was satisfied. She took a deep breath and let the music flow through her.

The eunuch entered the room. His perfume preceded his appearance, causing her nostrils to wrinkle as she turned to face him.

"Temora, it's time for your performance."

"I'm ready."

The eunuch bowed his head, and led her through the mansion. The sounds of chatter and music echoed through the halls, and Temora felt a nervous energy coursing through her. No matter how many times she performed, the jitters before a show always came. It was way of life for a bard, even one as practiced and skilled as her.

The eunuch opened the door to the great hall, and Temora stepped inside.

The room was large, with a high ceiling and arched windows. The walls were covered with ornate tapestries, and a large chandelier hung overhead. At the center of the room was a table, where Lady Yalid and a number of nobles were seated. There was a crowd of guests standing around the perimeter, chatting and drinking.

As Temora entered the room, the chatter ceased. All eyes were on her, and she could feel the weight of their gaze. She curtsied appropriately, and she could feel their tension ease, as their probing eyes scaled her form. Knowing what she was here for, she sashayed her way up the hall and stood before the head table. Yalid was seated there, dressed in a garment of metallic dwarf-woven silk, which revealed much of her curvaceous figure but strategically concealed certain parts. At her side were various noblemen and noblewomen, dressed in the gaudy colors common to Kakila. The men leered and the women tittered. Temora's bent forward, exposing her sumptuous cleavage.

She looked at Yalid, whose lidded, dwarven eyes, radiated hunger. She felt her cunt twitch as she held out her flute.

"What shall I play for you, my Lady?"

Yalid paused, considering. "Something light, something sweet. Play us a song of love, Honeytongue."

Temora smirked. "As you wish."

She raised the flute to her lips and began to play. The tune was an old folk melody, one her mother had sung when she was a girl. She swayed her hips, feeling the music move through her. Her skirt swirled around her legs, and she could feel the eyes of the crowd following her.

The nobles' eyes were glazed over, and the servants had stopped their bustling to watch her.

As she danced, she summoned two wraiths to dance beside her, using the magic Hezerael had taught her. Two former lovers, nude and resplendent in their erotic glory. They danced and floated through the air, leaping from table to table. She trilled a frantic melody on her flute, the wraiths moving and swaying with each note.

The room was transfixed by her performance, the guests murmuring and sighing as they watched the wraiths move and dance. Yalid watched her intently, her expression unreadable. Temora held her gaze, swaying and undulating to the music, feeling the heat in her body grow as her movements became more suggestive. The crowd began to murmur and chatter, the men leering at the wraiths and the women eying Temora with a mix of fascination and desire.

Her next melody had a more lustful tune, and the wraiths responded in kind. The pair, both with dark, tresses, and with mouths like swollen red orchids, writhed together in erotic bliss. She enjoyed the faces of the nobles, watching the two spirits copulating as their hips writhed and ground together. The wraiths became more brazen, gyrating in front of the audience, their hands moving over each other's bodies as the music built to a frenzied crescendo.

Breathless, cheeks flushed and her body glistening with sweat, she bowed deeply. "Thank you. It was a privilege."

Yalid clapped, slowly, and the audience followed suit. Yalid's eyes, cold as always, looked at her with rapacious intent. Temora knew the dwarfmaiden would not be satisfied with just a song tonight.

Temora smiled, taking another bow as the crowd applauded. She felt a swell of satisfaction, knowing her performance had pleased the nobles.

Yalid gestured to Temora. "Come, sit." She patted a pillow by her feet, below the head table. A servant's position, but an esteemed place nonetheless.

Temora took a deep breath and sat down. The guests resumed their drinking and chatting, though they shot Temora looks of approval and interest. She was not unfamiliar with the gazes of desire and she met each one with a smile, making sure they saw her body fully in her low-cut dress.

"I have decided I will help you," Yalid said. Her voice was a low murmur, meant for only Temora to hear.

"You will? I thank you," she replied, taking the offered wine glass and sipping. The taste was dark and complex, and her unsophisticated palate recoiled a touch. "Will I be able to meet the Greatlord?"

Yalid shook her head, the jewels in her hair twinkling. "He is not so easily reached, but there is a way. I will tell you more... if you do as I request."

Temora nodded, feeling a familiar tightening in her core. The wine, and her performance, were already moistening her warm loins. Yalid was a beautiful dwarfmaiden, with curves in all the right places. She knew, or rather assumed, what the Lady wished, but it never hurt to be coy.

"What do you wish, milady?" she said, keeping her voice low.

"I wish for a private performance. I watched you in the bathhouse, you know." Yalid's voice was low, growling, and it made Temora's heart twitch. "You are a woman of character. My servant was meant to test you. To see if you were a typical hedonistic deviant, or a true, artful practitioner of seduction and eroticism."

Temora blushed at the knowlege that Yalid had watched her bathe, seen her nude form already. She should feel violated, but it was quite a thrill. And Temora loved to put on a show, loved the attention, so this was an opportunity to both find a path to the Greatlord, and enjoy herself.

Temora gave Yalid a knowing smile. "So you wish for a more... intimate performance?" She looked around the great hall, her gaze drifting from servant to guest and back again. "There are many ears here, but if you will grant me some privacy..."

"I will have the eunuch take you to my quarters after dinner. For now, enjoy yourself." Yalid patted Temora's head, as though she were a pet, and Temora almost mewed like a cat, nuzzling her hand.

The banquet proceeded, and Temora sat with the other guests, mingling and chatting. The nobility seemed enraptured by her tale of how she escaped the clutches of the Nymph Queen and fled from the Karyg, and many of the men and women offered to hear more in private, at a later date.

"Perhaps, if my performance tonight is to your liking."

She had seduced the Nymph Princess, had studied eroticism under the Pleasure Keeper, and deflowered many a young farmhand across the sprawling lands of the continent. The Westerners were a bit more sophisticated, their passions more controlled, and she sensed she would need to be more careful here than she had in her homeland. But the lure of pleasure and the hunt still held true, and the men and women who gathered to listen to her stories knew well how to show their interest.

"Honeytongue?" She turned around, her head swiveling around to see the eunuch. "You are required elsewhere." He had a smug smile on his face, and Temora did her best to keep a straight face as she departed. She stood up, bidding the others adieu, and followed the eunuch to the Lady's room.

#

Yalid was already waiting for her. She sat on the divan, a cup of wine in her hand. Her hair was unbound, cascading down her back in long black curls, and her dress was gone, leaving her in a thin robe of dwarven silk-metal. Temora's eyes drank in her figure, her heart fluttering with anticipation. The dwarf maid was in her prime, a buxom and plump creature with a regal bearing. Her dwarvenness, a source of shame to some, was an added allure. Temora had bedded both a witch and a nymph, and she did not intend to stop there. Sex, much like life, was about adventure and exploration.

Yalid smiled, gesturing to Temora to take a seat across from her. "Please, Honeytongue, do sit down. I want to know a little more about you. You're quite the intriguing woman."

"As you wish." Temora sat down, taking the glass of wine that Yalid offered her. This wine was more to her taste. Yalid clearly served swill to her human house guests. She sipped it slowly, enjoying the taste and smell of the rare vintage.

Yalid looked at her expectantly, her eyes glinting in the dim lamplight of the room. "So tell me, what are your intentions towards the Greatlord?"

Temora raised an eyebrow. "My intentions are my own. But I intend to do only good for the people of the Northlands."

"He is also a very dangerous man, you know." Yalid sipped her wine. "If he suspects that you're a spy or assassin, he won't hesitate to kill you. He has spies and assassins of his own. His palace is rife with danger and intrigue, and only the most skilled survive. If you're not careful, you could wind up in one of his torture dungeons. Or worse."

Temora's nodded. She had expected as much of such a powerful man. "I appreciate the warning. But I can assure you, I have no intention of assassinating anyone. I will merely use my... abilities, to persuade him." She winked.

"Good." Yalid leaned back in her chair, her breasts straining against her thin robe. "Now tell me, where did you learn your skills?"

"Music and dance?" Temora said coyly, waggling her flute at the dwarfmaiden.

Yalid laughed. It was a good look on her, softening her stern features. "Yes, of course. And magic."

"I learned flute from my father, but I was taught song and dance and the bardic method by a beautiful nymphmaiden." Temora's lips curled into a sly smile. "I learned a few other things from her."

"And what, may I ask, was it like to bed the Nymph Princess?" Yalid leaned back on the divan, her legs spreading a bit to reveal a flash of her smallclothes, dwarven steel and gold chain glinting.

"Like making love to a forest." Temora closed her eyes, recalling the first night she had spent with the Nymph Princess, the scent of flowers and honey and sweet milk filling her nostrils, the sound of gentle song and flute music surrounding them as she brought the girl to her first pleasure, her own maidenhood claimed in a night of ecstasy. She'd learned so much more, since, but it was always a fond memory.

Temora took a long sip of wine, allowing her eyes to wander over the dwarfmaid's figure. "But I would say my schooling in sex began much earlier. I have always been a woman of desire, Lady Yalid. I've been fucking and fucking since I was barely a woman, and I have been around the block with the best of them, from the oldest matron of a village to the Nymph Princess. But I never really understood sexual pleasure and how to satisfy a woman until I met the Pleasure Keeper. I would consider her to be my first true teacher in this field." But she certainly hoped Hezerael would not be her last.

"The Pleasure Keeper. You are lucky to have escaped her grasp." Yalid set her wine cup aside on the small table and stood up. "But I grow tired of your boasting, Honeytongue. I wish to test your knowledge. And perhaps impart some upon you." She gestured at Temora. "Disrobe for me."

"Gladly." Temora stood up, setting her wine cup on the table as well. She began to undress, peeling the straps of her dress down from her shoulders. She swayed her hips, revealing the swell of her breasts, and then let the dress fall to the floor, pooling around her feet. She stood before the Lady naked, save for the gold hoops and bangles around her arms and ankles. She kicked off her shoes. The gold chain at her navel drew the gaze downwards. Her pubic mound was shaved, and her vulva was swollen and pink, peeking out between her lips. She had a slight sheen of sweat on her body, and the smell of sex scintillated.

Yalid licked her lips, her gaze roaming over Temora's naked form. She was appreciative and hungry, and it made Temora's skin tingle.

"Now then. I shall ask you three questions. If you answer them correctly, I will disrobe for you."

Temora nodded, waiting for the dwarfmaiden's question. She could smell Yalid's arousal from the short distance between them, and it made her cunt wet with anticipation.

Yalid cleared her throat and smiled. "What is the secret to pleasing a woman?"

Temora smirked. "Always be patient."

"Why is that?" Yalid cocked her head to the side.

"Because if you're patient, you'll discover what she really wants. You'll discover her most intimate secrets." Temora's gaze met Yalid's, and she felt the weight of her lust and desire. "And some women are complex. In the Pleasure Keeper's realm, I made love to all of the women she had seduced and stolen pleasure from, and learned about their bodies and their techniques. Each one was different. And I know to be patient, and work to understand their body, so that I can give them what they need."

Temora knew she'd given the correct answer. It had taken her a long time to learn it, and it had come at great expense. Yalid smiled, a rare genuine smile.

"That's correct, Honeytongue."

"You said three questions," Temora said, feeling a thrill at her small victory. "Ask another."

"Hmm," Yalid hummed. "Very well. What part does pain play in pleasure?"

"A woman can enjoy many things, from a feather-light touch to a flogging," Temora said. "It all depends on what she enjoys. But I learned, from the Pleasure Keeper, that pleasure and pain can go hand in hand. They are both intense sensations, and if a woman can learn to endure and embrace both, then she can achieve the greatest heights of pleasure." Temora felt a flush creeping into her cheeks at the memories of her training under Hezerael, learning the sweet and bitter, the pleasure of pain, and how it all was part of the great sexual tapestry.

Yalid nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Interesting." She reached her hands down and pulled at the hem of her shift, pulling it up and over her head. She wore underneath a set of silken-metallic, dwarfmade underclothes, with gold chains and hooks, keeping the panties and brassiere strapped to her curvaceous figure.

"Do you want me to take these off, Honeytongue?"

"Very much so."

"Very well," Yalid said. "I will do it, after your third answer." She walked to the center of the room and turned her back to Temora. "What is the true meaning of the word 'erotic?'"

Temora spoke without hesitation. "Sex is just a bodily function, something that animals engage in to pass on their seed, but it can be so much more than that." Temora smiled. "In the hands of the skilled, it becomes a form of art. I can use my body, my voice, my song to arouse, to tantalize. It becomes something spiritual. It becomes more than just two bodies, but two minds, coming together."

"Very good. I'll let you take them off yourself, for being such a good student."

Yalid turned, and Temora stepped forward, placing her hands on the dwarf's hips. The silky metal was cool to the touch, and Temora's fingers found the hooks and ties that held the brassiere in place. She began to unfasten them, one by one. As she did, Yalid's breasts spilled out, heavy and full. Her nipples were dark, almost brown in color, and they were surrounded by thick areola. They were bigger and sharper than human nipples, and Temora wanted to suck on them.

"I want you to pleasure me," Yalid said. Her voice was firm, but there was a note of need in it. "I want you to give me the greatest pleasure of my life."

"I would be honored."

Temora pulled down Yalid's panties. Her ass was a work of art. The globes were enormous, muscular and glistening in the dim candlelight. Temora's hands cupped them and gave a little squeeze. To her surprise, Yalid's skin was tough, almost leathery. So different from a human woman's. "And now you will learn an important lesson, my little bard," Yalid said, turning around. She stood only at Temora's waist but her eyes were imperious. They demanded obedience, and Temora found herself kneeling before the short woman, worshipping at her altar.

Yalid had the build of a dwarven woman, thick and robust. Her breasts were large and full, and her thighs and ass were heavy and thick. Her skin was a beautiful golden color, and she had a thick patch of dark hair across her mound. Her cunt was intriguing, hanging lower and thicker than a human's, dark and with rich, multilayered labial folds. Temora was intrigued. She'd never made love to a dwarfmaiden before, but seeing their extra tough skin and more complex genitalia promised quite a challenge. She was almost drooling at the thought.

"I see you have appraised my form. No doubt you see that there are some differences between the dwarf's sturdy, powerful physique, and that of a stringy human." Yalid's eyes twinkled with derisive mirth. "You are quite fortunate to look upon my body, Honeytongue. Only two others have had such a pleasure, and only one was able to bring me to orgasm. Perhaps you will be the second."

Temora bowed her head, her hand resting on the dwarf's thighs. She inhaled Yalid's scent. It was unlike any Temora had smelled before. It was heavy and earthy, with notes of copper and spice. It was intoxicating, and she could feel her cunt dripping onto the floor. "Why is it so challenging, milady?"

"I am blessed with tough dwarven skin. Dwarven women are difficult to pleasure already, but my mother is of the Steelskin clan, and we are the most difficult of all. I hope you are up to the task." She sat down on the bed and spread her legs. "I see you are hungry. Perhaps we should begin the lesson."

"Yes, milady," Temora replied.

She took a step forward and reached her fingers out towards the dwarf's mound, gently parting her hair. It was coarse and thick, and her lips were like dark curtains, hiding an intimate secret. She gently stroked her thumb against Yalid's inner labia. They were hard and unyielding, but Temora was persistent. She parted the folds, revealing several layers, complexity far beyond that of a human cunt. A little fluid leaked out. Temora leaned her head forward and dragged her tongue across the hairy wetland. Yalid gasped.

"Yes, very good. Your tongue is soft and nimble," Yalid breathed. "You are well-trained."

"Thank you, milady," Temora murmured, licking the folds once more. They were thick, like little leather tongues, and her flavor was dark and rich, with an undercurrent of muskiness. Temora pressed her face against Yalid's crotch, inhaling her scent once more. It was primal and ancient, a smell of earth and rock. Her own arousal was almost unbearable now. She could feel her cunt leaking all over the floor. Her tongue began to lap at Yalid's lips, swirling across each fold, seeking the center. But something wouldn't give, and Yalid's clitoris remained hooded. She could feel the arousal build, but something resisted. She needed another approach.

The fingertips on her right hand crackled, and little wisps of flame appeared. "Let me warm you, my lady."

Yalid stiffened, but didn't protest as Temora gently brushed her fingers against her outer lips. "Very well, bard. My skin is not easily wounded. I am curious to see the results of your approached."

Temora nodded. Her fingertips glowed as she gently stroked Yalid's inner labia, massaging the thick flesh. Yalid moaned, her body shuddering. Vaporized arousal rose in the air, perfuming the room. Yalid's flesh was hard, but pliable, and her breath quickened as Temora's fingers grew hotter and hotter. Her clit began to peek out, its small head glistening with need.

"Good. You have gone further than most are ever capable of." Yalid grunted, bucking her hips. "Now, get on the bed. I want to ride your face."

Temora could think of nothing better than having her face smothered by Yalid's muscular thighs and ass. "Gladly," she said, removing her fingers and climbing onto the bed.

Yalid straddled Temora's head, her knees on either side. Drops of steaming arousal fell on Temora's face, singeing her skin. Yalid's ass loomed over her, like a massive, muscular hill. She lowered herself slowly and soon Temora was smothered. It was like being in the embrace of a mighty oak, her breath caught by the immensity. She was engulfed in Yalid's scent, and she began to lick.

Yalid growled, her hips grinding down. She was like a force of nature, a powerful being. Temora licked with abandon, her tongue delving deep into Yalid's folds. Yalid moaned, her hands gripping the sheets as she rode Temora's face. With her free hands, Temora conjure fire to her fingertips once more, and slapped Yalid's massive posterior. The dwarfmaid shrieked.

"Ouch!"

But she did not protest when Temora spanked her with the fire fingers again. The sound of the slaps reverberated around the room, accompanied by Yalid's moans. Temora licked faster, harder, her tongue lashing Yalid's sharp, hard, dwarven clit in rhythm with her spanking. The dwarven clit tasted good, and leaked a salty discharge into her mouth as it grew bigger and bigger, almost choking her. The room was filled with the sound of flesh against flesh, and the scent of steaming arousal and scorched skin.

Yalid grunted and gasped as Temora's tongue assaulted her, lashing and flickering with increasing intensity. Temora was surprised and proud she was able to bring the dwarf to such heights, especially with her limited experience of dwarven cunts. Hezerael and her wraiths had taught her well, and with her knowledge, she had achieved a new sexual triumph.

"Oh, by the Stone Mother, yes!"

The room shook, as Yalid's body began to quake in pleasure. Temora knew what was about to happen. She had done it to several women in her time, and it was a glorious thing to behold. Yalid's cunt erupted, spraying steaming, frothing, sweet juices all over Temora's face and hair. They were delicious, and Temora lapped them up eagerly.

"Yes!" Yalid screamed, her thighs tightening around Temora's head. Her ass squeezed Temora's face, and it felt like being inside of a huge, dwarven anvil. It was an amazing feeling. Her tongue continued to lap and lick at Yalid's cunt, until the dwarf's body collapsed and fell beside her, splayed and limp.

The room was filled with the scent of Yalid's pleasure, and the heat of it lingered.

The bed was covered in damp sheets, and Yalid lay sprawled on her back, breathing heavily. She turned to face Temora, her expression soft.

"You are indeed talented," she murmured. "You have proven your worth."

"I'm afraid not, milady." Temora kissed her, her burning fingers reaching down to tweak the woman's nipples. The dwarfmaid moaned lewdly. "I cannot leave your bed without claiming your magnificent derriere. I'm going to sing songs around the world about the legendary ass of Yalid the Dwarfmaid."

Yalid moaned into her mouth, their tongues tangling as Temora's fingers left scorchmarks all over her beautiful skin. "You have earned the right to do as you will with me. Use my body as a canvas."

Temora grinned. Now she was the one in charge. Delightful. "Get on all fours for me."

Yalid obeyed, her ass in the air like a great, beautiful, golden-brown moon. It was a sight to behold. Temora stood and looked down, her gaze drinking in the view. It was perfect, two magnificent globes of flesh, tanned with scorch marks from the spanking it had just received. Temora couldn't resist, and gave Yalid's ass another fiery smack. The dwarf moaned and lowered her head, ass cheeks rippling from the impact. Temora then pulled apart the woman's cheeks, with some effort, to peer at the valley within.

She could see Yalid's tight puckered hole, as well as her wet and gaping pussy, leaking all over the bedspread. The dwarven asshole was tighter and more wrinkled than a human's, and the scent richer. Temora smiled and licked her lips. "I'm going to enjoy this, milady."

"So will I," Yalid said. She sounded tired, but excited. "Show me what you can do."

Temora nodded, and she began to circle the globes of Yalid's ass with her tongue, kissing the injuries she'd inflicted upon the dwarf. Then she entered the valley, stiff dark hairs tickling her nose and rough on her tongue. The skin here was still hard and unyielding, so she tapped her tongue with her finger and added heat to it. "Get ready," she warned Yalid, before plunging her fiery hot tongue into her asshole.

Yalid gasped, her hips jerking. Temora held them steady with her hands as she tongue-fucked the dwarfmaid's hole, her tongue swirling and probing. She was gentle at first, then grew more bold as she felt the tight ring begin to give way. She pressed her tongue against Yalid's asshole and slowly inserted it. She felt the walls clench and spasm as Yalid's body writhed and moaned. Temora kept up her rhythm, thrusting her tongue in and out, deeper and deeper.

"Oh, yes!" Yalid cried. Her face was contorted with pleasure. "Fuck my ass! I need your tongue!"

Temora obliged, her tongue flicking in and out. Her own pussy was aching with need, but she ignored it. For now, she needed to pleasure this incredible woman, to worship at an ass that could inspire wars. She drew flames back to her finger tips, and with one hand, began to draw runes of pleasure upon Yalid's ass, and with the other, snake underneath and draw them upon the woman's breasts. As she was a dwarf, it was quite an easy reach. These runes were taught to her by the Pleasure Keeper, and would provide greater and greater pleasure the more pain the woman endured.

And she was feeling pain. Yowling with each scratch of a fiery fingernail, and then moaning as the flaming tongue scorched and teased its way deeper and deeper into the ridged and complex landscape of her dwarven asshole, Yalid was a beautiful, burning, erotic mess. Her hands were tearing through the sheets as she bucked and writhed her hips whorishly.

Temora pressed her thumb against Yalid's cunt, while she drew fire runes across her asscheek with her left hand. She heard the dwarf groan with pleasure. Yalid's cunt was warm and wet, and she could feel the woman's clit growing larger with every thrust of her thumb. Temora was excited. She knew she would soon bring the woman to climax.

Yalid's moans grew louder and louder, and Temora felt the woman's cunt quivering. Temora drew a final rune on her clit and the dwarf screamed in ecstasy, her body spasming. Her orgasm was intense, and the bedsheets were soaked with her pleasure. The room filled with the smell of it, the heady scent of dwarf cunt, and Temora knew she would always remember this night.

Yalid lay panting, her body slick with sweat. Temora crawled up to her, kissing the woman's face, before giving her a long, deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues mingled, and the taste of Yalid's mouth was delicious. She was intoxicating, a drug.

"You are indeed worthy. You have done what only one before you has ever accomplished." Yalid breathed, her voice husky with desire and exhaustion. "And they had draconic blood. So they could..."

Temora gasped. "Breathe fire? Onto you?"

"Onto my cunt, in my ass, on my tits. It was exquisite."

Temora felt a twinge of jealousy. If only she had draconic blood. "I'll need to learn that trick, somehow."

Yalid patted her cheek, smiling mischievously. "Don't be jealous, my pet. If anyone can achieve this, it is you. Know that you are always welcome in my home from this day on, and that I will support you in your quest against the Greatlord. But first..." Her hand reached down and cupped Temora's poor, unattended, aching cunt. "I think I owe you a more immediate reward."

Temora groaned at the touch, then groaned more as Yalid removed herself. Her legs twitched and spread, aching for more. But Yalid returned soon, with something in her hands. The dildo was double-ended, with complex textures and ridges upon its surface, and it was made of metal. Dwarven-forged steel, most likely. She then pulled out a jar of honey-scented oil, which Temora recognized as being for her pleasure. "I don't want you to have to work hard," Yalid said with a smile. "Let me do the work for you. Stay on your back."

"With pleasure," Temora murmured. Her body was so close to bursting with arousal it hurt. Yalid spread a thick coating of oil across her anus and vulva. The cool sensation of it against her burning flesh made her whimper. "I'm so wet..."

"I can see that," Yalid said. "Hold on. You're in for a ride."

Temora panted wordlessly, nodding.

Yalid lowered the dual dildo and slid the shorter end inside herself with ease, moaning with pleasure at the feeling. Her cunt was a mess from Temora's previous tongue-lashing. Then, Yalid moved into position over Temora, holding the toy by its base with one hand as her other guided it inside of Temora. Temora felt a delicious pressure as the metal dildo filled her, her tight walls squeezing down upon it. Her cunt twitched and throbbed, aching for more, but she tried to stay still. Yalid slowly rocked back and forth, easing the toy inside, before she was able to begin thrusting it. The rhythm was slow at first, but it quickly built, as did Temora's yelping. Yalid's large breasts jiggled and swung as she thrust, and Temora couldn't help but grab and fondle them as the pleasure intensified, her fingers crackling with merry flames and the runes on Yalid's body glowing.

The bed creaked as they fucked.

"Oh, dwarfmaid!" Temora moaned, arching her back. The metal dildo slid deeper, its ridges rubbing against her insides. Her body was on fire, every nerve burning with pleasure. The runes of pleasure were working, and Yalid's large, rough dwarven fingers were kneading Temora's clitoris like it was a piece of dough. Yalid's tongue, on the other hand, was swirling and teasing Temora's hard, sensitive nipples, sending electric tingles all down Temora's body. The dwarven woman's weight was on her, their breasts pressed against each other.

It was almost too much. Temora couldn't believe that a few hours ago she'd been in the bath house, bathing away the grime of the road, and now she was being ravished by a powerful dwarfmaiden, whose ass she had just eaten to orgasm.

"Sing for me, bard!"

"Oh Gods!"

"Sing more!"

Temora mewled. "A dwarfmaid fucks like no other!"

"Sing!"

A series of warbles and shrieks rose in an incomprehensible stream from Temora's mouth. That was her song for the night.

The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, their bodies pressed together. The runes on Yalid's body glowed red-hot as the runes Hezerael had placed upon Temora appeared and did the same. The dwarfmaid grunted as her clitoris rubbed against Temora's. Temora gasped for breath as the pleasure became unbearable, her orgasm approaching like a storm.

"Come for me!" Yalid's voice was a command.

"Oh, fuck! Fuck me!" Temora screamed.

They came together. Temora felt her cunt gushing as the waves of pleasure crashed through her. The room blurred, the smell of their last, devastating orgasm filling the air. She gasped for breath, her body still writhing as Yalid pulled out of her and collapsed beside her, utterly spent. They lay together, their sweat and arousal mingling as the glow faded from their runes.

Temora could hardly breathe. She felt like her entire body had just melted away, leaving only her bones.

She looked at the dwarfmaiden beside her, admiring the strong lines of her jaw and nose.

"That was amazing," she whispered.

"Indeed," Yalid murmured. "I hope you have the stamina for more tomorrow."

"Oh, I think so," Temora smiled, kissing the dwarfmaiden. "I'm not leaving the palace until I've fucked you up the ass with that thing." They laughed and giggled like schoolgirls until sleep finally took them, tangled in each other's arms.

#

Yalid sipped her tea as she looked out the balcony over the sprawling city of Kakila. Much had changed in the last forty years, but with dwarven aging she had not changed very much at all. Below, a street singer was perfoming a bawdy little number.

Oh, in the merry city of Kakila!

There's a dwarfmaiden fair

With a great big ass

They say it's worth a ride

If you don't mind the hair

Yalid laughed as she set her teacup down. Temora would be furious if she knew what her famous poem had been reduced to by the commoners. Still, it was nice to know that dwarven asses were appreciated around the world. All because of a night spent with Temora Honeytongue, forty years ago.

"Cheers, Honeytongue," she said, finishing up her tea and heading back inside. Hearing that song had made her quite... excited. Luckily, someone who could breathe fire was lying in her bed, ready to please her.

She disrobed and turned around, displaying her magnificent ass to her lover. "I really do deserve a song written about me," she said, her lips parting into a moan as her lover's breath touched her.

She wondered if Temora ever learned how to breathe fire. Oh, the things she could have done if she did!