FemBard: Look for a suitable costume for the party tonight
From Create Your Own Story
You had thought about approaching the Dancing Mermaid to perform, but from what you remember, they were a rougher tavern and already had performers, both someone to play the harp and a dancing girl who tended to sing rather lewd songs while wearing outfits that were more than a little revealing. Not that you have issues with that. You have done the same thing on more than once occasion. Being a bard without being in service of nobility meant you lived from performance to performance, playing for your meals, a small, cramped room, and a few copper, if you were lucky, silver, coins passed your way.
I guess I should stick with the costume and just be another party reveller, you think to yourself.
You search the market area, checking in various shops. One tailor dealing in more silk and laces than your meager pocketbook could afford, another that was purely for common, functional outfits.
After checking shop to shop, you finally find one that has a few costumes stuffed in the back. The work seems okay. Nothing to stand out, but the cut of the dresses in the shop appears fashionable, at least as far as you know. Fashion has never been your strong suit.
A young man shows up, giving you the once over. Not much older than you, he still shows a surprisingly critical eye, noting every loose thread, every stain, every fold and wrinkle.
Apparently you pass muster, but are unsure how much as he greets you with a half hearty welcome.
You shrug. No noble treatment for you, but it is not like you expected it.
As you look through the costumes, he stands behind you. Noticing him from the corner of your eye, you see him look you over, staring at your butt and bust when you turn. You reassess the passing muster part. His eyes aren't focused on your pocketbook but on you in lust. As you turn, the expression again turns into feigned half interest.
It creeps you out a bit, but with all other shops either carrying nothing appropriate, or sold out of appropriate attire, you have no choice but to endure his perverted staring until you find something to blend in.
Grabbing a couple potential costumes, you ask him where you can change. Normally there is a screen for you to go behind, but he shrugs.
"Sorry, my screen was broken. It's still at the woodsmith's shop being fixed. You can change back here to try them on, and I'll watch to make sure no one enters and disturbs you." His feigned look of innocence, a "I am just put upon as you" expression, did little to sooth you. You reluctantly nod.
Watching to make sure he turns away, you remove your clothes until you stand naked. Undergarments were simply not something you had ever used, or thought about, given few women but nobles could afford to buy them and wear than, and given you weren't in the habit of undressing in front of strange men, it normally isn't an issue. You ponder on this, wishing you could afford them, for just such an occasion as this.
You glance out of the corner of your eye and find the shop proprietor glancing at you, trying to not be noticed doing so.
Tempted to hit him, you feel yourself blush. You bite your tongue and start trying on costumes.
You try a dress covered in feathers, a mask to make the wearer look like a hawk. You look at yourself in the grimy mirror, the reflection bubbled and hard to make out. The reflection looking back at you sees the mask, a fierce hawks face, the feathers giving you the impression of a woman ready to take flight. Quickly, you discover that the costume comes with its own drawbacks. The feathers stick out, poking your skin, itching. This costume definitely needed something under it, and adding in a body slip would wipe out your dwindling funds.
You sigh, taking it off, glancing at the proprietor glancing at you. This time he notices you take note, and turns away hastily.
With that, you grab the fools costume. Slipping it on, you laugh at the sight of you in the mirror. Normally made for a man, it is baggy in some places, tight in others. The twin points at the top of the hat remind you vaguely of rams horns, without quite curling around. The outfit feels slightly better, but still, you want to get information, not make people chuckle.
You sigh, taking it off, then search for other costumes. Wild beasts and strange creatures. Some leave you sweaty under their heavy fur, and others barely cover anything at all.
You look at the latest one you picked up. The linen scraped so thin that you can see your skin underneath. The feathers placed in just the right spots that you don't actually see your nipples and vagina, but just barely. Twisting it slightly, it becomes clearly visible. Your bet is that it would be visible from other angles. Tempting, as you have seen these costumes before during these parties. True, the women wear masks to hide their identity, but it is not an uncommon site. It still shocks you that the higher the person's station, the more willing they were to dress provocatively once they were safely masked during festivals like this.
But still, although the sex appeal would indeed help you get more information from men, there was also a good chance that some may take it wrong and decide that you were offering what you were showing. And not being noble or even a native, the watch would not bother to stop them or help you.
You slip the outfit off, then glance back at him. You meet his eyes. It seems he isn't even bothering to be discreet about looking at you anymore.
Once again, you contemplate hitting him, then leaving. But the information you are supposed to get from this party could be promising, so instead you cover yourself with your hands as he leers.
"Here," he says. "What do you want the costume for? Perhaps I can help you."
"Just attending a party at The Dancing Mermaid," you tell him. You don't bother hiding your glare.
"Perhaps we can make a deal," he says. "I have a costume I think would be perfect."
He walks past you and goes through the costumes. Grabbing one, he turns around.
He shows it to you, and you find yourself biting your tongue yet again, this time to keep from screaming at him, insulted that he would even ask you to wear something like that. Instead you wait to hear him out.
"This is my mermaid costume. I have tried to recreate it the best I can from the tales I have heard from sailors. If you are willing to wear it, and to help promote my shop, I would be willing to pay you a little and offer you this outfit here to keep." He pulls out a set of clothes, the cleavage deep, the skirt a bit shorter than appropriate. It was halfway between harlot and whore. But, it was still something, and with some coins being thrown in, it could help. Maybe you could find a whore or harlot to sell it to.
"I call it the 'Pirate Wench'."
You think about wenching him upside the head, with a spiked mace. You don't, in part because you do not want to explain to the city guards, and in part because you don't have a spiked mace.
You look at the mermaid costume a bit again, sighing.
"Fine, fine, let me try it on," you growl at him. "But keep your eyes to the front." He chuckles, then honors your wishes, turning away. He even has the decency to not look at you, at least not that you can tell.
Slipping on the mermaid costume, you check yourself in the mirror.
The head piece was worked to look like a real mermaids...fins? You suppose. You had never really seen a mermaid.
The top was hard worked leather, somehow dyed green. Slipping it on, it left the entire insides of your breasts bare, and most of the top, just covering the sides and bottom, and barely covering the nipple. It also seemed to shove them together, forcing the tops to round out, look bigger.
The pants were also dyed green. Like the bird costume, the linen was scraped so thin that your legs might as well have been bare. The only thing saving it was what looked almost like a loin cloth around the front and back. It came down barely below the split between your legs. You groan, thinking that now might be a good time to have some undergarments.
In back was some extra material, trailing behind slightly, with leather ridges standing out like yet more fins. Like she had a tail, or maybe that the mermaid was halfway through her change.
More revealing than you liked, you supposed it could work, and save your coin between. At least you had no worries about finding men to talk to you. Now, you just needed to be careful that no one decided you were offering more than you were.
"Okay," you tell him. "You can turn around."
He turns to look at you, and you can see his breath catch. "You look wonderful! I never knew it would look so good."
"Okay," you tell him. "The 'pirate wench' outfit and five shards."
"What? Five shards? That is outrageous!" He sputters.
"Then you can just wear it yourself, and help promote your own shop," you retort.
He struggles, his face plainly showing his mind working as his lips twist and his eyes gaze off to the side.
"Okay, you promote my shop for a few hours, or until all my costumes are gone, and I will give you the pirate wench outfit and five shards." You are ready to nod your head, accepting, when he continues. "But, one last requirement. You will kiss me."
You are struck speechless. Biting back a quick 'go kiss a beholder' retort, you think about it seriously. He is lecherous, and you would rather not do any such thing. But, your coins are running low, and he isn't that bad looking. Perhaps you could just focus on that and ignore his lack of character.
"Fine," you tell him. "One kiss, I promote your shop, and I get the 'Pirate Wench' outfit." You shudder a bit at the name of the outfit.
"Done. Here, let me take these from you," he says, reaching for your bag.
A growl escapes your throat. "Don't you dare," you tell him. Your hand slips inside, wrapping around the dagger. You may not be the best fighter, but you can do just fine when needed, especially against some lecherous, soft shop owner like him. Soon, he finds your dagger resting against his chin, one push away from going through his throat.
His eyes roll down, trying to see the dagger, very careful not to move his head. "Look, you cannot carry your bag while promoting the shop. I will hold it here and make sure no one touches it."
"Why? So you can steal my stuff?" You retort.
"I will not touch your stuff," he promises.
You think about it, and finally, after slipping out your coin pouch, you pull your dagger out. The sheath was made to be able to be tied around your thigh, or arm, or wherever, which you promptly do. Unfortunately, with the costume, it was quite obvious. You shrug. Once secured, you pull the dagger out, placing the tip under his chin, ready to shove hard, right through his throat. "If I find a single thing missing, I will slit your throat." He Umm Hmms instead of nodding.
With that, you leave the dagger at his chin, and press your lips against his. It starts out as a closed mouth kiss, but you know he expects more. It feels strange, kissing a man at knife point. You part your lips, inviting him to explore your mouth. His tongue eagerly obliges, pushing into your mouth. You are tempted to tell him to slow down, but resist, wanting it over as soon as possible.
He gets more aggressive, getting into the kiss, and you drop your hand with the dagger before you accidentally push, or he accidentally slices his own throat. His tongue invades your mouth, feeling like he is trying to force it down your throat. Letting go and losing yourself in the kiss, you exhale sharply as his hand moves between your legs. You let him press his fingers against you, for resisting, for a heartbeat longer than you should, secretly enjoying it. A strange man, his strange fingers, pressed against your intimate spot, massaging. He removes his hand from there, emboldened by your lack of response, and tries to shove it down the top of the pants, trying to worm his fingers down to your sex. With that, you decide this is going to far, and once more lift the dagger to his chin. His eyes widen as you push, forcing him back. A single drop of blood rolls down his throat from where it pierced the skin. Just a small nick, less than he would have gotten shaving.
"Fine, fine," he says quietly, trying not to move. You take the dagger away, lift the green linen leg, tie the sheath around your leg and slip the dagger into the sheath. Your harp and flute remain in the bag, along with the few meager possessions you have.
You look up, catching him looking down the top, watching your breasts.
Heading out to the street, you start crying the quality of the shop using your performance voice, made to carry through the crowds.
"Finest costumes available. Come find your costume for the Fleetswake festival. Join the party in the Dancing Mermaid in a costume from the finest shop around!" You continue crying out over and over, a slight sing-song tone to your cries.
At first, the crowds mill on, ignoring you, just another crier trying to grab customers attention. However, most other criers weren't dressed in costumes that exposed so much, and looked so fanciful. Soon, men start drifting over, watching you, some laughing, others making lewd comments.
"If you need money that bad, we can take you around the corner and get you out of those ridiculous clothes."
"Now there is a mermaid that has the right holes, without the fishy smell!"
"How about if I take off those pants, see your 'tail'."
Some others seemed to be interested in seeing what the shop carried, walking passed you and heading inside.
You continue crying, even as one of those potential customers grabs your but. You do your best to show no reaction, continuing to cry for the shop.
Emboldened by your lack of response, others let their hands grope. Easily waved off as a 'accidental' bump, yet more than a little coincidental that it connects to your ass, to your breasts, to your mound above your sex. You grit your teeth and bear it.
Another man walks right up in front of you, placing himself between you and the street.
"Is that real?" he asks, then starts touching the costume. Feeling along the headpiece, the fins. You endure, still crying for the shop, as he moves down, pushing and pulling your top, making random comments.
"Leather seems good, stiff, but holds well," he comments as he pulls it outward. You find yourself blushing, him having a clear view to your breasts.
"Wonder how well it fits," he says, shoving his hand between the leather and your breasts. You inhale sharply as the backs of his hand, rough, multiple scars, scrape along your nipples. The front of his hand touches the outfit, while the back continues scraping up and down across your nipple. Unsure what to do, you let him continue, feeling humiliated, and somewhat aroused. Not that you want him touching you like this.
He pulls his hands free, and you find him kneeling in front of you. It is rather awkward, this man pawing at you, looking at your costume, while you try to cry for the store.
He examines the legs, the loincloth covering. He shifts to your side, then examines the mermaid tail. "Good quality, interesting use of cloth."
You still cannot figure out if he is just trying to cop feels or if he is really examining the costume. He hasn't actually done anything overly lewd, at least, if you can say shoving your hand down the front of a woman's top while examining that top was not lewd. Not like he pinched you, or squeezed you. Maybe he was a rival tailor?
You screech in sudden surprise as he lifts the loincloth, exposing the hair covering your sex, exposing your sex. You screech yet again when his fingers push against your lips down there.
"Get off me!" You yell at him, pulling back. While it was just uncomfortable and humiliating before, it had passed that threshold the instant he decided to poke you right in the puss.
He steps back. "Sorry, thank you for letting me examine your costume." With that, he is gone, walking off in another direction.
Face completely red, from embarrassment, from humiliation, from outrage, from...unwanted arousal...you continue crying for the shop.
"Finest costumes available. Come find your costume for the Fleetswake festival. Join the party in the Dancing Mermaid in a costume from the finest shop around!"
You endure yet more pawing and groping as people crowd in. Soon you notice two young boys. You vaguely remember them being there before the strange man came and examined the costume, before poking you!, but thought nothing of it.
One of the youths moves towards you, then passes you.
You feel a slight tug, all the warning you have as the youth pulls the top back. You hear the faint sound of him cutting the ties binding it to your front. You see the other youth in front of you, suddenly pulling on the top, as you feel your breasts fall free. The top disappears, along with the youths.
It all happens so fast, you don't have time to respond before you are standing there, open mouthed, topless, in the middle of crying out for the shop.
You feel rooted to the spot, your mind trying to figure out what happened, the entire street stopped dead, watching your exposed breasts.
The moment seems like forever, but was probably just seconds, before your hands reflexively cover your breasts.
You run inside, the room crowded, bumping into shoppers with each step. Your hands are knocked away as you run into the patrons, and quickly replaced. Knocked away, then replaced.
Soon, you find the tailor, rushing to him.
He stares at you, his eyes big. "What are you doing, topless?" He sputters.
You explain what happened. He cusses, and then looks at you again.
"Well, nothing I can do about that for now," he says, waiving his arm around the shop to show all the patrons. "I am already up to my eyeballs in customer."
He purses his lips. "But, if you want to be paid, you know the deal. Get back out there."
"Like this?!" You tell him, your voice disbelieving.
"Look, you were supposed to take care of the costume. You are the one wearing it!" Now his face is red, and not from joy or embarrassment.
"If this is the costume you have, then go promote in it! And don't whine to me when your top is stolen, WHILE YOU ARE WEARING IT!" You stumble back slightly at the onslaught. You struggle with yourself. You could leave now, but then, all this is for nothing. You glance at the costume racks. Almost all of them are gone. It shouldn't take longer.
You take your hands away, looking him straight in the eye, and tell him in a growl, "I will promote, just like I said, until your costumes are done." With that, you walk out, refusing to cover yourself. You feel the shiver of excitement running through you, bare chested for anyone in the street to see.
The crowd swelled even more, most not even bothering to go in the shop. More catcalls, more propositions were thrown at you. Even the city watch walked by, making a few calls themselves, before walking on.
You turn, and find the tailor watching you. Having the decency to at least blush a little at being caught, he states, "Okay, costumes are all sold. Your end of the bargain is done."
With that, he walks back in. You wonder vaguely how long he had been standing there before turning to leave the crowd, eyes watching your exposed front.
Some push in behind you anyways, and you feel more than a few hands on you as they shove inside.
The tailor rushes to the crowd. "Sorry, we are closing for today," he says. You wonder for an instant if there is about to be a lynching, but the crowd starts leaving.
Once everyone is gone from the shop, the tailor turns to you. He gathers your bag, a small bag with the silver, and the pirate wench outfit.
"You honored your end. I'll honor mine. Here's the money."
You nod, then check the bag. Ten silver coins wink at you. You try to keep your face smooth as you silently feel grateful for the extra coins.
Quickly checking your bag, you get ready to change into your own clothes again.
"Mind facing away?" You tell him, not quite able to demand, not after he was generous with the payment.
He nods, but instead of turning away completely, he turns to the side, reaching into his own coin bag.
As you strip off the bottom of the costume, the headpiece, you watch what he is doing.
One coin is placed on the wooden table. Gold. The headpiece comes off.
Another coin is placed on the table. The strings in the bottom come loose.
Another coin is placed on the table. Your costume pants slide off. Fortunately, if he is watching out of the corner of his eye, he will only be able to see your butt.
Another coin is placed on the table. You slip your pants on.
A fifth coin is placed on the table. You slip your top on.
Turning around, you notice all five gold coins glinting at you. With that much money, you could live comfortably for a month. That much money, you could live for five months, as long as you didn't spend beyond your normal amount. Supplemented with your normal income, playing in taverns and inns, you could live almost a year with no worries about the money for your next meal. Two silver was what a common laborer made in a week. A gold was ten silver. That was enough for a common person to live for twenty five weeks.
"All that for me?" You ask. "I didn't think my promotion was worth that much."
You know there is a catch, but wait for him to tell you.
"No. I already paid for that. Thanks to you, I made a lot of money today. I am willing to share it, to give you these five dragons. Have sex with me."
You gasp. You sort of expected it, but still, it surprised you hearing it.
You watch the coins, glittering. Not like you were pure. Not like you were a virgin. Not like you had not bedded down with random strangers before. But this was different. This wasn't for a night of companionship. This was for money, like some common whore. But, whores did not make this much money, either.
Struggling with yourself, you finally agree. "Okay, but only once. And don't cum inside of me. I don't want to have to use the money to visit some backwater doctor to get rid of a bastard child."
He nods, agreeing.
You intend to take him for a ride. The faster you can make him cum, the sooner you will be done.
You strip off your clothes again, and lay down, in the middle of the shop, and spread your legs, inviting him between them.
He quickly strips himself, then settles between your legs, his cock hard and ready. He pushes against your pussy, head lined up, hips shoving forward. You wince, wishing he had taken the time for a little foreplay, pussy hurting from the rough, dry entry.
"Slowly," you tell him. Soon his cock in completely inside of you. You move into action. Looking him in the eye, you softly stroke his hair, your best 'I need you' face.
"Yes baby, yes," you coo at him. "You feel so wonderful, it feels so good," you tell him, feeling his excitement build as he starts thrusting inside of you quicker. You grab his hand, pressing it against your breast, as you watch his eyes, as he watches yours. You bite your lip, letting a low, throaty moan escape. His breathing becomes more ragged as he thrusts harder and faster.
"Yes baby, cum for me," you coo at him, watching him in passion. You start to feel good down there, but you know it won't matter. His actions will bring you no satisfaction, other than a healthy coin purse. You twist him, knowing the buttons to push to enthrall a man. Captivating an audience is not much different that captivating a partner. They want to feel the intimacy, the excitement. They want to feel you, the crowd, your words, your ballads, lost in the stories they paint, the other, to feel your body, your passion, lost in the intimate act of sex.
You note he is breathing raggedly, deeply, and feel the slight tightening. You shove him off you just as his cock spurts, coating your legs and the floor.
You throw him an accusatory look. "I said not inside." With that, you grab the coins, drop the act. He is just a stranger.
"But, that was too short," he whines.
"I said you may have sex with me. You finished. The deal is done." Suddenly, his expression changes. You can tell he finally realized that all it was was a business transaction. While you did find it exciting, arousing, you could could not care less about this man.
"Yeah, got it," he says, looking hurt and a little angry.
You slip on your clothes, make sure everything is ready, and walk out the door, an extra five gold in your pocket.
You have your new 'wench' outfit, so you can look around some more. Or perhaps nab some food at a tavern, you have a few hours till the party tonight.
