It starts in a tavern. Always does, doesn’t it? Every adventure and every mistake starts in a tavern. Anything worth remembering starts here, but it all ends up washed away by the sweet, familiar sting of whiskey. No lessons learned that can’t be forgotten and learned again. Hell, I think I’ve forgotten more than I’ve ever known, but maybe that’s just the 5th ale talking. The tavern is where a hero begins and ends, and where their story lives eternal in songs sung and tankards raised.
Listen to me yapping on, waxing poetic and here you are wondering who the hell I am. Excellent question. My name’s Sunshine, but most folks call me Sunny for short. If you’re reading this you must be in my head. Not the safest place to be, I must warn you. And a bit crowded at that. The circumstances of my heritage are something of a taboo; I’m what’s called a tiefling. Tieflings are devil-blooded folks, everybody has a rotten apple somewhere on the family tree, only difference is devil blood infects the tree down to the last twig and leaf. Every child and grandchild of mine will be born with my horns and my mustard yellow skin.
That’s why my ma named me Sunshine before she left me at the commune, before she realized that the blood of Mammon is more than just skin color. I feel his instincts, his impulses to be callous and selfish. His greed plucks at me like a puppeteer, but I fight it as best I can. He’s not the only one rolling around in my noggin with you. After I left the commune I met a creature that called himself the Prince of Fools, I later came to know his true name: Hyrsam. He struck a deal with me, offering great power at a price, now I’m in his debt and he’s in my head. And here you are, here with me, at the tavern.
As I sit, nursing my final-final ale, I smile at the cute, elven barmaid from across the room. I’ve lost count of the stolen glances. Most folks respond to me one of two ways: they either want to kill me or they want to screw me. This little lady clearly didn’t want to kill me. I’ve been in town less than a tenday, and she’s been blushing non-stop for about as long. Raising my hand and giving her a little nod, I call her over. On her approach I catch her fidgeting with her skirt and trying to occupy her hands.
“Yes, mister Sunshine?” she offers.
“Sunny, please,” I insist, “I just wanted to say goodbye. After tonight I’m putting this town behind me.”
“So soon?” she asks, almost sounds wounded.
“I’m afraid so. Business elsewhere. But you always showed me kindness, so I couldn’t leave without…” I trail off, knowing what Mammon wants me to say, “without saying goodbye.”
“Well we sure will miss you, mist- er,” she fumbles on her words, “Sunny.” Her weak smile is interrupted by a wannabe hero from a corner table.
“Hey, elf!” he calls out, “Where the fuck is my ale? Nobody’s paying you to talk to some devil-blooded fuck!”
For a moment I consider my options. The fella looks strong, no doubt. If I cast a spell surrounded by drunks I’m bound to get stomped into the floorboards. So for now I stand. I stroll over to his table while my barmaid rushes to the bar. Doing my best impression of a tough guy I say, “Do we have a problem?”
He chortles, slamming down his empty tankard before responding, “A problem? You’re nothing but a sallow little pest. A golden bastard with a crown of shame,” he gestures at my horns, “I could mop the floor with you. No problem. No effort at all, so begone.” His friends rejoice, raising their empty cups in a toast to his wit. A head-on approach wouldn’t end well; his allies and other patrons would join in the fight.
“Right you are,” I whisper, turning to leave. But before I make my exit I make sure their pitcher arrives. Their rowdy celebration is cut short as I conjure a spectral hand with a word under my breath, “Dextra.” As I flick my wrist the hand manifests at their table and knocks the pitcher over in a blink, before it flickers out of existence. Ale splashes and pours all over the men, coating the table and their laps. It seems a fair consequence. Quiet as a mouse, I slink up the stairs to my room. The door shuts behind me and muffles the chaos below.
I round up my possessions, my pack, my dagger and my fiddle, setting them by the door. With a drunken stagger or two I make my way to the bed. Then I wake with a knock. My clothes are strewn about the room so I must have had more to drink than I anticipated. Knocking once again, from the door. Shit. Stumbling to my feet and then to the door, I answer with little regard for my own dignity. Before me stands the elven barmaid, blushing as always.
“I’m sorry to bother you-”
“You’re no bother,” I interrupt her, “Come.” I leave my door open and step to the bed, pretending to be somewhat sober.
She shuts the door behind her and sets her lantern on my nightstand. Her skin glistens in the dim light, she’s a pale little thing. Her alabaster skin is dusted with tiny freckles on her nose and cheeks. A single auburn braid lays over her shoulder. Before I can find my words she speaks, “I wanted to say goodbye, properly.”
“Properly?” I ask, thoroughly immersed in my stupor. Then she hastily unfastens her skirt, and pulls her blouse overhead. My eyes gaze hungrily at her naked flesh. She’s beautiful. With only a moment to punctuate her bravery I fill the space between us with my lust. I lunge off of the bed and run my hands all over her body. She feels so smooth and soft. A moan escapes her lips as I squeeze and stroke every inch of her. Feverishly, she presses her delicate little mouth into mine. Her lips open to welcome my tongue as I cup her face in my hand. “Lay down.”
And she does, she lays on my bed flat on her back. I move between her legs and slowly draw her thighs open, kissing her along the way. She smells sweet, and there’s a kind of heat radiating off of her despite her timid nature. As I kiss her thighs and draw closer she turns her head away in shame. “No need for that,” I reassure her, “Watch me. Watch me taste you.” So she does. She looks to me as my tongue slides between her slick folds, as I breathe her in like a flower. I reach up and squeeze her pert breast as I lick her up and down, never breaking eye contact.
I can feel her edging closer to climax as her body rises and falls with labored breath. Pushing my fingers inside of her, I pump them in and out while I coax her over the edge with my tongue. Her hips rise as she tenses sharply, her flat belly tightening. She has a hard time maintaining eye contact, what with them rolling back and all. But she tries, half nodding her head involuntarily as I watch her. After a good hard shutter and a tremble or two she comes back to her senses. Reaching down to my face she gently pulls me up to hers.
I can feel Mammon and Hyrsam alike on my shoulders, devil and fey finally in agreement. They want me to fuck her like a bitch in heat. But this girl strikes me as the type that deserves to be taken gently and sweetly. So I kiss her as my cock swells and presses firmly against her. Her delicate fingers wrap gingerly around my shaft as she moans into my mouth. After a slow stroke or two she begins to tighten her grip, milking me with my tip grazing her wet lips at the end of each stroke. I can’t bear to wait any longer, I push into her.
She engulfs me fully in a way I can’t say I’ve felt before. Maybe it’s the drink, or the unbridled lust, but I feel held by her arms and her perfect little cunt in a way that I’ve never been. Our eyes lock as I drive further and further into her. There’s a kind of desperate need behind her eyes and I’m sure it’s present in mine as well. With every thrust we become more interwoven, our foreheads pressed together as we pant and moan. Her hips push greedily into mine and I know what both of our bodies want. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t forsake her the way I’ve been forsaken.
Before my cock erupts I pull out of her, spilling my pearlescent cum onto her alabaster chest. We both breathe a sigh of relief as the fog of desire leaves us. As I hold her and kiss her cheek she smiles, whispering, “I’ll miss you, mister Sunshine.”
No you won’t. A fleeting moment of me is better than a lifetime. Believe me. There’s a reason I was chosen by the Prince of Fools. Before dawn strikes, I get out of bed, get dressed, and sling my things over my shoulder. I leave the beautiful elven barmaid peacefully asleep on the bed. Better to leave the night unspoiled by the harsh light of day. Perhaps I’ll see her again when I’m a better man. For now, it’s just me and the road.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jecgo8/dd_ta_level_1_the_barmaid_the_golden_bastard_mf
Exemplary.
Kinda disappointed but also kinda glad he didn’t creampie her. Feel like it will make a time when he does to someone more impactful.
Excited for more.