8mi Chapter 562 - 561- Sataro Guild’s Departure for an Adventure
Chapter 562 - 561- Sataro Guild’s Departure for an Adventure
Still there. Helviana had not removed it. The thin, cheap, honest ring of a woman who had married young and had not thought about the ring since the day it went on because it was simply there, simply part of the architecture of her hand.She looked at it now.
The complicated expression moving across her face.
She did not take it off.
She looked back at Dara.
"My current master," she said, "is not like any man I have met before."
"In what way," Dara said. Cautious. The caution of a woman who had heard this sentence in various forms and had learned to audit it.
Helviana thought about how to answer this.
She thought about the carriage. About the pond. About the forest. About the inn room upstairs where she was expected to return and what that return would look like and the particular, honest, completely involuntary flutter in her lower body that thinking about that return produced.
She was aware of her body.
Continuously. The phantom occupation of it — the ghost of his cock in the channel it had spent two days educating, the faint, persistent warmth of his seed still doing whatever it did in her interior, the glow on her face that she could feel from the inside as a warmth rather than see.
She shifted in her seat.
The slight, unconscious press of her thighs together.
"He is—" She chose her words. "Very thorough."
"Thorough," Dara repeated.
"He takes care of the people who work for him," Helviana said. "In ways you don’t expect. He notices things. He—" She paused. "The payment is very satisfactory."
She rubbed her thigh.
The gesture carried below the table — her hand moving in the unconscious, absent-minded, automatic way that a body performs self-soothing gestures when a conversation has activated something in it. Her fingers pressing lightly against the inside of her thigh through her dress.
The motion entirely below Dara’s line of sight.
Her face entirely warm and sincere above it.
"Satisfactory how," Dara said.
"You feel—" Helviana chose carefully. "Full. At the end of a day. Like you’ve been—" The corner of her mouth. "—used well. Like your work has been received properly. Like someone knows the value of what you’re giving."
She said this with complete honesty.
Every word of it entirely accurate.
She was talking about a salary.
She was not talking about a salary.
Both things were true simultaneously.
"That sounds—" Dara stopped. She looked at the cup. At the table. At the room. "That sounds like something a person doesn’t find often."
"No," Helviana agreed. "It isn’t often."
A pause.
She looked at Dara.
At the particular, tired, two-years-of-cups exhaustion on her face. At the frustrated intelligence of a woman who had been told repeatedly that the situation she was in was the situation available to her. At the young body of her, the rounded chest visible under the inn uniform, the strong hands that had been washing cups for two years.
"Do you want to leave this place?" Helviana said.
The question landed with the particular weight of a direct question in an indirect conversation.
Dara looked at her.
"I—" The word arrived carrying everything the word carried for a woman who had been here for two years and had built something like stability around a situation she didn’t like and knew that stability, however uncomfortable, was still stability. "I can’t just—’
"I’m not asking if you can," Helviana said. Her voice gentle, steady, the voice of a woman who had learned from a man who asked questions that cut past the preamble. "I’m asking if you want to."
Dara was quiet.
The fire.
The cups.
The inn sounds.
"Yes," she said. Quietly. The honest, small, somewhat frightened ’yes’ of a woman who had just said something true she hadn’t planned to say.
"Then," Helviana said, "meet my master."
Dara looked at her.
"Just meet him," Helviana said. "Once. Tonight, after your shift. The decision is yours entirely. He would simply—" The corner of her mouth again, the warmth in it entirely genuine, "—like to speak with you."
"Speak," Dara said.
"Ask you things," Helviana said. "He’s very good at asking things."
She shifted in her seat again.
The press of her thighs together.
The warmth in her face.
"He makes you feel heard," she said. "Whatever else he is — and he is many things — he makes you feel genuinely, completely heard."
She looked at Dara.
At the tired face across from her.
At the cups stacked beside the table.
"What do you say?" she said.
Dara looked at the cups.
At the common room.
At the hallways she had been navigating for two years.
She looked at the woman across from her — at the warmth of her face, at the glow of it, at the settled, convinced, honestly-delivered quality of a woman who was not lying.
She was not lying.
This was the thing.
Helviana was not lying.
Every word she had said was entirely, comprehensively true.
The salary was satisfactory.
He did notice things.
She did feel used well.
She felt heard.
She felt full.
All of it true. All of it carrying the double weight of its own truth and the other truth that lived inside it, the one Dara could not quite locate but could feel at the edges of, the way you feel a word you don’t know the name for.
"Alright," Dara said.
The small, slightly breathless word of a woman who had made a decision that felt both entirely reasonable and slightly terrifying.
"After the shift," she said. "I’ll come."
Helviana smiled.
The full, warm, genuinely happy smile of a woman who had accomplished what she was sent to accomplish and felt good about having accomplished it.
"Good," she said. "It’s a deal."
She stood.
Smoothed her dress.
The motion of her hips as she stood — the small, careful, practiced motion of a body that was still managing itself after extended experience — was invisible to Dara.
What was visible: the glow. The warm, steady, luminous quality of her face in the firelight.
"He’s going to like you," Helviana said. Simply. Genuinely.
She left the table.
Her thick, agape hips let her ass cheeks jiggle up and down due to how loose they have become.
Walked toward the stairs, coming down as her hips swayed as if fucked and clapped to make them jiggly, turning on the railing.
’!?!’
A hand came directly, grabbing her face and pulling her to the nearby corner of what seemed like one of the rooms in the inn.
"Mmmphhh~!!"
Her whole body was pushed to the sudden brink of shock as her eyes trembled. She wanted to speak, but suddenly she felt a thick cock pressed against the cock she had become accustomed to, making her whole body and struggle go limp as a hand groped her boob from behind.
"Ummhhn~~ Master...." she breathed out, her eyes becoming teary as she knew. Her lips opened, letting the finger in her mouth slowly sink in, sucking it as she said "Master," and finally Victor asked, kneading her soft boob and grinding his cock against her ass crack over her clothing.
"Set up the meeting in the Guild Lounge of Sataro’s Guild... make sure to bring her."