The Feast

by Rowan Bree

  Once everyone is dressed, the guards return take you up to where you will be working. Along the way you are reminded you will be entertainment for the guests and to do everything they ask of you.

  “But what if they ask me to sing?” one of the religious-type women asks. “I can’t sing.”

  The guard laughs. “You will be by the end of the night,” he replies.

  The woman doesn’t seem to understand what’s so funny. She continues to complain until one of the guards pulls her out of line.

  He tells her, “I’ll give you a choice. You flirt with the guests, let them have a bit of a grope, and you might just find yourself a free woman at the end of the night. You refuse to do what you’re told and you end up in the dungeons. It’s far worse down there, trust me.”

  The woman shuts up and wordlessly goes back in line.

  You pass through a stone archway draped with black curtains. Beyond is a room filled with guests, some in fine dress and others in stiff black robes. Half-dressed male slaves move amongst them, serving wine and submitting to the guests’ whims.

  Red candles are placed on different surfaces and in sconces, and an open space has been cleared in the middle of the room. A circular symbol is carved into the stone floor. It looks like dark magic but no one seems to mind. Maybe the rumors about sacrifices weren’t entirely unfounded. The guards push you forward into the room.

  “Get to work,” one of them tells you. “We’ll be keeping track of those who put in the most effort tonight. The king’s promised freedom if you do as you’re told.”

  The group of women slowly start to disperse through the crowd. Some are clearly used to this kind of work and have no trouble finding their place. You quickly scan the room looking for something to do.

  On one of the tables is an ornate decanter full of wine you could use to refill guests’ glasses. Otherwise there is a finely dressed young man with curly dark hair who keeps looking at you.

  Serve wine.

  Go to the curly-haired man.

  You stay in line, following the guards up to a large tiled bath. The air is filled with a fragrant steam. The guards tell you to line up inside the room then leave you to the women working there. The women have you undress and get into the bath. Anyone that doesn’t listen gets spanked with the wooden end of a scrub brush.

  The water is warm and the fragrant oils make you sleepy. If they are bathing you it must mean you are going to the feast after all. You try not to think of what you will be asked to do at the feast. You hear more murmurs of human sacrifices but choose to ignore them.

  A portly elven woman works over you with a sponge. She scrubs your skin so hard you feel like it’ll rub right off, then pours a bucket of water over your head. You sputter as the water runs over your face.

  The woman slaps you on the back and makes you get out of the tub. You wonder why she’s so averse to using her words. She roughly dries and powders you, then spritzes you with oils. Finally, she slips a light linen dress over your head and clamps a collar around your neck. You look around to see other women receiving the same treatment.

  Once everyone is dressed, the guards return take you up to where you will be working. It is an intimate, private party only for those in the king’s inner circle and his most honored guests. Along the way you are told you will be entertainment for the guests.

  “I can’t sing,” one of the religious-type women says.

  The guard laughs. “You will be by the end of the night,” he replies.

  The woman doesn’t seem to understand what’s so funny. She continues to complain until one of the guards pulls her out of line.

  He tells her, “I’ll give you a choice. You flirt with the guests, let them have a bit of a grope, and you might just find yourself a free woman at the end of the night. You refuse to do what you’re told and you end up in the dungeons. It’s far worse down there, trust me.”

  The woman shuts up and wordlessly goes back in line.

  You pass through a stone archway draped with black curtains. Beyond is a room filled with guests, some in fine dress and others in stiff black robes. Half-dressed male slaves move amongst them, serving wine and submitting to the guests’ whims. This is what you too will be doing tonight.

  Red candles are placed on different surfaces and in sconces, and an open space has been cleared in the middle of the room. A circular symbol is carved into the stone floor. It looks like dark magic but no one seems to mind. Maybe the rumors about sacrifices weren’t entirely unfounded. The guards push you forward into the room.

  “Get to work,” one of them tells you. “We’ll be keeping track of those who put in the most effort tonight. The king’s promised freedom if you do as you’re told.”

  The group of women slowly start to disperse through the crowd. Some are clearly used to this kind of work and have no trouble finding their place. You quickly scan the room looking for something to do.

  On one of the tables is an ornate decanter full of wine you could use to refill guests’ glasses. Otherwise there is a finely dressed young man with curly dark hair who keeps looking at you.

  Serve wine.

  Go to the curly-haired man.

  You accept his help and he snaps his fingers. You are engulfed in a sparkly light so bright it blinds you. When you regain your sight you find yourself in what looks like a pantry. You can hear noises from the castle kitchens nearby. You are free.

  You thank the not-gnome and go to leave. He stops you.

  “Have you forgotten your half of the deal?” he asks.

  You contemplate trying to double-cross him. But you don’t know how powerful his magic is. You reach for his waistband.

  He swats your hand away. “You think I’ve helped you all day for your mouth around my cock?”

  You sigh and lie back, waiting for him to get it over with.

  Berwick laughs cruelly. “Wrong.”

  You sit back up. “Then what do you want?” you demand. You’re getting really tired of this little creep’s attitude.

  “I never waste a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. You’re going to help me get back at my master, the head chef.”

  He grins. You can already tell you don’t like where this is going.

  “Wait here,” he says and disappears. When he comes back he is carrying a basket overflowing with fruits, vegetables, and various other things from the kitchen.

  “You know what my master hates?” he asks. “Filth. So we’re going to dirty up his kitchen a bit.”

  He sets the basket down and picks up a carrot. There is an evil glint in his eye.

  “Are you kidding me?” you ask. Surely he doesn’t plan to violate you with a bunch of vegetables.

  “Indeed I do,” he replies. “Come on, be a good sport about it,” he adds, seeing your expression.

  There’s no way around it. On the plus side, you don’t have to touch the ugly gnome creature.

  You relent. Berwick drags the basket over to you. You pull your skirts up to allow him access. He teases you with the tip of the carrot. Despite your reservations, you’re wet by the time he thrusts it in.

  “I thought you just needed to get it dirty,” you pant as he fucks you with the vegetable.

  “And not give you any pleasure? How selfish do you think I am?” His technique is good and you start to quiver.

  Just as you are beginning to enjoy yourself Berwick pulls out the carrot and snaps his fingers. The carrot disappears. “I sent it to the kitchens,” he tells you.

  Berwick then holds up a zucchini. “Something a bit bigger,” he says. He resumes your fucking with the larger vegetable and this time you have to bite back your moans.

  “I didn’t know you were such a deviant,” Berwick taunts you. You buck against the zucchini with little regard for your mouthy friend. He can call you what he wants as long as he lets you cum.

  “Enough of that.” Berwick disappears the zucchini as w
ell, leaving you unsatisfied and frustrated.

  He comes back from the basket this time juggling three chicken’s eggs.

  “No way,” you tell him, but he is already pushing the first one inside you. You try to keep him away.

  “Don’t break them,” he warns, sliding the second one in and then the third, which you are barely able to hold in. You squeeze your legs together.

  “Good. Just let them sit there a bit.”

  Every time you move you can feel them shifting inside you. One of them presses against your g-spot making you weak in the knees.

  Berwick gets you to spread your legs. “You have to push them back out. Carefully now, so you don’t break ‘em.” His fingers spread your lips. You bear down and the first egg starts to come out.

  “Carefully!” Berwick warns.

  You shudder as the egg clears your opening.

  “Good work mama. Now the next one.”

  You clench your muscles like before, this time controlling yourself so that the egg inches out more slowly. Once its widest berth passes through it drops into Berwick’s waiting hands.

  You can already feel your body trying to expel the third one.

  “No no,” Berwick scolds. “Not that one. Keep it in.”

  You have to fight to follow his orders.

  “I want you on all fours,” he says. You do as you are told, hoping that you will be allowed to release the egg as soon as you are in position. “Lower,” he guides you until your legs are folded underneath you and your ass is nearly touching the floor.

  You wait but there is no instruction from Berwick. He is rummaging around in the basket again. Another zucchini, or maybe a small cucumber. You can’t see it but you can feel it against your ass. You start to push out the remaining egg. He pushes it back in. “No, no,” he scolds you. “I told you. That stays in there.”

  The small zucchini presses against your backdoor until it relaxes on its own, letting the length slide in. It’s oddly warm, as if Berwick had been holding it for a while before putting it inside you. He must have been sizing up his options.

  The egg moves inside you with each thrust of the zucchini. The double stimulation is too much. Pleading with Berwick to let up, you look over your shoulder to find him balls-deep in your ass. It wasn’t a vegetable after all. The little bastard is fucking you.

  You moan in protest but are too weak to stop him. As your body clenches you beg with him not to come inside of you. At the very least he could spare you that indignity.

  “As if I’d waste it,” he says, grunting.

  He pulls out, and as he does the final egg slips out and smashes onto the floor. He goes over to the basket and grabs the biggest custard cream pastry you have ever seen. He thrusts his engorged dick inside and lets out a satisfied groan. When he pulls out his cock is covered in cream.

  You shudder to think of the poor soul who will bite into that pastry and find his little gift waiting inside.

  “Are you done?” you ask him.

  He sighs contentedly. “Yeah, that should do it.”

  You leave the pantry, thankful to be away from Berwick, keeping to the less frequented hallways and corridors of the castle. You can hear the feast in full-swing and imagine all the lords and ladies enjoying themselves. You also think of the serving staff in their drab clothes, invisible to the king’s guests.

  Try to sneak into the feast.

  Leave the castle.

  You accept his help and he snaps his fingers. You are engulfed in a sparkly light so bright it blinds you. When you regain your sight you find yourself in what looks like a pantry. You can hear noises from the castle kitchens nearby. You are free.

  You thank the not-gnome and go to leave. He stops you.

  “Have you forgotten your half of the deal?” he asks.

  You contemplate trying to double-cross him. But you don’t know how powerful his magic is. You reach for his waistband.

  He swats your hand away. “You think I’ve helped you all day for your mouth around my cock?”

  You sigh and lie back, waiting for him to get it over with.

  Berwick laughs cruelly. “Wrong.”

  You sit back up. “Then what do you want?” you demand. You’re getting really tired of this little creep’s attitude.

  “I never waste a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. You’re going to help me get back at my master, the head chef.”

  He grins. You can already tell you don’t like where this is going.

  “Wait here,” he says and disappears. When he comes back he is carrying a basket overflowing with fruits, vegetables, and various other things from the kitchen.

  “You know what my master hates?” he asks. “Filth. So we’re going to dirty up his kitchen a bit.”

  He sets the basket down and picks up a carrot. There is an evil glint in his eye.

  “Are you kidding me?” you ask. Surely he doesn’t plan to violate you with a bunch of vegetables.

  “Indeed I do,” he replies. “Come on, be a good sport about it,” he adds, seeing your expression.

  There’s no way around it. On the plus side, you don’t have to touch the ugly gnome creature.

  You relent. Berwick drags the basket over to you. You pull your skirts up to allow him access. He teases you with the tip of the carrot. Despite your reservations, you’re wet by the time he thrusts it in.

  “I thought you just needed to get it dirty,” you pant as he fucks you with the vegetable.

  “And not give you any pleasure? How selfish do you think I am?” His technique is good and you start to quiver.

  Just as you are beginning to enjoy yourself Berwick pulls out the carrot and snaps his fingers. The carrot disappears. “I sent it to the kitchens,” he tells you.

  Berwick then holds up a zucchini. “Something a bit bigger,” he says. He resumes your fucking with the larger vegetable and this time you have to bite back your moans.

  “I didn’t know you were such a deviant,” Berwick taunts you. You buck against the zucchini with little regard for your mouthy friend. He can call you what he wants as long as he lets you cum.

  “Enough of that.” Berwick disappears the zucchini as well, leaving you unsatisfied and frustrated.

  He comes back from the basket this time juggling three chicken’s eggs.

  “No way,” you tell him, but he is already pushing the first one inside you. You try to keep him away.

  “Don’t break them,” he warns, sliding the second one in and then the third, which you are barely able to hold in. You squeeze your legs together.

  “Good. Just let them sit there a bit.”

  Every time you move you can feel them shifting inside you. One of them presses against your g-spot making you weak in the knees.

  Berwick gets you to spread your legs. “You have to push them back out. Carefully now, so you don’t break ‘em.” His fingers spread your lips. You bear down and the first egg starts to come out.

  “Carefully!” Berwick warns.

  You shudder as the egg clears your opening.

  “Good work mama. Now the next one.”

  You clench your muscles like before, this time controlling yourself so that the egg inches out more slowly. Once its widest berth passes through it drops into Berwick’s waiting hands.

  You can already feel your body trying to expel the third one.

  “No no,” Berwick scolds. “Not that one. Keep it in.”

  You have to fight to follow his orders.

  “I want you on all fours,” he says. You do as you are told, hoping that you will be allowed to release the egg as soon as you are in position. “Lower,” he guides you until your legs are folded underneath you and your ass is nearly touching the floor.

  You wait but there is no instruction from Berwick. He is rummaging around in the basket again. Another zucchini, or maybe a small cucumber. You can’t see it but you can feel it against your ass.
You start to push out the remaining egg. He pushes it back in. “No, no,” he scolds you. “I told you. That stays in there.”

  The small zucchini presses against your backdoor until it relaxes on its own, letting the length slide in. It’s oddly warm, as if Berwick had been holding it for a while before putting it inside you. He must have been sizing up his options.

  The egg moves inside you with each thrust of the zucchini. The double stimulation is too much. Pleading with Berwick to let up, you look over your shoulder to find him balls-deep in your ass. It wasn’t a vegetable after all. The little bastard is fucking you.

  You moan in protest but are too weak to stop him. As your body clenches you beg with him not to come inside of you. At the very least he could spare you that indignity.

  “As if I’d waste it,” he says, grunting.

  He pulls out, and as he does the final egg slips out and smashes onto the floor. He goes over to the basket and grabs the biggest custard cream pastry you have ever seen. He thrusts his engorged dick inside and lets out a satisfied groan. When he pulls out his cock is covered in cream.

  You shudder to think of the poor soul who will bite into that pastry and find his little gift waiting inside.

  “Are you done?” you ask him.

  He sighs contentedly. “Yeah, that should do it.”

  You leave the pantry, thankful to be away from Berwick, keeping to the less frequented hallways and corridors of the castle. You can hear the feast in full-swing and imagine all the lords and ladies enjoying themselves. But you belong upstairs at the Order’s private party.

  The party.

  You wander the hallways listening for signs of a party, and eventually come across one of the castle’s serving staff. He is carrying an ornate decanter and seems to be in a hurry. He goes up a spiral staircase and you follow.