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Tainted Dreams	By : wyldehart Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All characters and Dragon Age are property of Bioware/EA. I made no money, sadly.

Chapter List
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Elissa stood before the full-length mirror gazing at her reflection. She didn't recognize the woman she saw there, even without the bird-mask. To start, her hair had been layered with additional pieces neatly snapped into her own natural red locks. They were in shades of sunny gold, vivid orange and scarlet. They were then piled and spiked on her head like feathers. More layers and extensions cascaded down her back and across her shoulder. All over, there were glittery rhinestone pins that caught the light as well as keeping the layers and the fiery up-do in place. A feathered aigrette in flame-hues of teal, red and gold adorned one side of her head. At its center was a cabochon of rich red embraced by an oval of clear, sparkling crystals.

Next, her face was ornately and elegantly doctored with cosmetics. Glittery golden eye-shadow reached up to her eyebrows, which had been adorned with crystals and feathers in shades of flame. All around her eyes, dark kohl gave a darkly exotic appearance to them and enhanced the bright teal of her irises. Her lashes had been enhanced with extremely long, thick fake lashes, somehow glued for an added feminine effect and crystals were glued to the outer edges of her eyes along her lashes. Her cheeks were bronzed and given some darker, redder tones in the hollows under the bones and by her hair-line. Her lips were lined in a deep red and filled in with a sparkling scarlet gloss that picked up every beam of light and returned it. The overall effect was a pretty red pout that dazzled.

If her face and hair were striking, her dress stole the show. Her pregnancy was only about five months in and she was clearly showing. She was wearing a corset that dramatically narrowed her waist and lifted her breasts high, thereby lengthening her waist and making the bump less visible. To further hide her belly, a delightful plume of flame-colored feathers sprayed out across her middle and met a high slit at the top of her slender thigh. The long, multi-layered skirts were asymmetrical and of varying lengths in shades of red and gold, like the rest of her ensemble.

The bodice was playful , the top meeting upper edge of the corset just under her pert red nipples. They protruded through a teasing scattering of playful red and gold feathers. Her dark areolas were adorned with a glittering spiral of crystal-encrusted gold that drew they eye right to her large breasts. A single strap of colorful feathers stretched across from under her right arm, above her breasts and over the left shoulder where it reached across her muscular back and connected to the back of the dress. Her hips were feathered as well with a large plume in the back that flowed behind her in the same shades as the rest of her flame-hued gown but with additional purple, teal and white feathers to contrast with the red. All over glittered crystals that shone like tiny pin-points of light.

Though Elissa was fairly petite as warriors went, her legs were long and muscular. The right leg was exposed to the hip and adorned in a thigh-high sheer scarlet stocking bedecked with thousands of sparkling crystals. From the corset hung garters to which the stockings were attached. Like the corset, it was teal. She had chosen to forgo the panties. After all, the only option was a pair without a crotch and made of sheer lace. Playful but useless and considering the amount of pressure applied to her bladder, courtesy of the baby and the corset, it would be better not to have to deal with panties at all.

Her shoes were playful slippers in glittery teal and gold that laced up her calves. Yellow feathers fluffed up from the toes and the heels were high but were not difficult to move in. She thought she would fall on her face when she first saw them but the heels were fat, stable posts rather than precarious spikes. They were adorable as well as being remarkably comfortable.

The final touch was a fantastic mask resembling the face of a bird. It had strategically placed combs used to anchor the mask into her coif. It had feathers, many man feathers about the eyes and "head" in shades of gold, red and orange with a few teal as well, especially around the eyes. The hooked beak was painted with brushed gold.

"'Tule Lind'," the Dressmaker, Chelen, said with a smile. "'Firebird'. You are my Firebird. Zees drez waz dezined for ze empress some six years ago for ze zame ball. Howevair, her lovair, ze' king of Farelden, he waz murdaired most horrifically by hees friend. Most unfortunate. Now ze drez getz a zecond life weese you, Mon cir."

The blood drained from Elissa's beautiful face. "You mean King Cailan was supposed to marry Celene?" she asked, incredulous.

"Von, von. Perhaps eet ees why Fareldan's hero betrayed ze king, no? Perhaps he found out? Eet would be a peety, no? Ah well. Pazt ees pazt and you cannot change it anymore zan you can change your eye colare. Though, geeve Cosmetiqe a chanze and he weel find a way! Wheech reminds me… I have somesing for you." The plump little woman ran off and grabbed a feathered bag, which resembled Elissa's costume. "Eet haz cosmetiques for you if you deziare a touch up or more, Mon cir. And here…" She sprayed Elissa with a puff of some exotic frangrance that started off strong but as it faded, smelled intensely erotic. "Parfume wiz a bit of somesing to attract ze boyz and make you even more alluring zan you already are. Ah! You are mah masterpiece! If but I could only captiar zees moment. Ahh well. Ze carriage arriveze zoon! Are you ready?"

Elissa nodded, donned the mask and pulled on the heavy furred coat as she stepped outside the shop and waited, teeth chattering, in the bitter cold for the carriage that would transport her to the ball. She shivered perhaps out of fear or excitement or perhaps just the cold. Or was she shivering in for all three? Her breasts had never been this bare in a public setting and never had she gone anywhere in public without wearing panties. There was a very real concern that she might end up in a strange man's arms or perhaps Alistair's or even perhaps…even Ambrose's. Thought of ending up in a stranger's arms, as terrifying as it was, was also deeply arousing. The thought of making love to Ambrose, though, sent chills down her spine. She felt her body warm as it reacted to the notion. "I'll take you…" purred his voice in her mind. She licked her lips in unexpected anticipation.

The carriage arrived and she showed the driver her ticket. He nodded and she sat upon the cold leather seats. The curtains were drawn against the chill and it wasn't as if she could see very much anyway. She smelled water and salt air and the sounds of sea gulls surrounded her. They were traveling across a long bridge, a causeway built between islands in a fjord of the great Waking Sea. She had grown up on its shores and knew these smells well. It was a return to her past when life was simpler and much less exciting. She loved her life as it was now and wouldn't give up Alistair or her friends or her experiences for anything.

After just over an hour, they were passing through the gates of a city with brick streets and life, even at this hour, with a bustling marketplace and children laughing through the streets. The vehicle wound its way through streets lit and dark all the same and soon arrived at huge estate that was nearly a castle. He stopped and came around to the side of the carriage to take her hand. Her coat fell open and he smiled at the eyeful her breasts gave him. She winked at him and he blushed. An elf, wearing a heavy coat herself, took Elissa's hand almost immediately. "Come! Come! It is frigid out here. You have your ticket? Ah. Von. 'Tule Lind'. Firebird. There is a tale of the Firebird. It is most famous, indeed. I'll bet your dress is divine, Madam. Your mask and hair are certainly works of art themselves. Once you enter the building, you speak only to us elves who are serving food and other… delights. Do you understand? No words until permission is given. Anything else is up to you. Oh and keep your mask on. Questions?"

"Are there…rules? Besides no talking or removing of masks?"

The elf-woman chuckled as they ascended a long flight of stairs leading up the building. Their coats were taken at the door and Elissa carefully attached her decorative purse to the front of the dress. It blended in perfectly. "Non. There are standard ball dances, of course, but they will be sensual and likely sexual in nature. Nudity is, of course, welcome and appreciated. Implied sexual consent is given the moment your name is announced and that you are a willing participant in any activity that presents itself. Think of this as a feast with you as the main course and the actual food and wine we bring merely the side dishes. Dessert is anything or anyone you desire. Do not fear that you will possibly betray your lover. The probable chance is that he will eagerly please himself as well. My advice? Live out your fantasies real or imagined and most of all… Have fun."

Elissa nodded and started to thank her escort when she realized the elf was completely naked save for a pair of sandals artfully laced up both thighs, to the shaved crotch. Body paint was her only other clothing and hanging from both her nipples were bright golden hoops. They dominated her small, pert breasts. "All of us elfin servants are decorated as I am. And we don't wear masks. That is how you can tell us from those elves fortunate enough to afford the experience themselves. Are you ready?"

The young queen drew in a deep breath and nodded as she held out her hand to the maiden. The elf took it and they walked down a long corridor where her name and her ticket were each taken. She was announced by another elfin-servant, a very naked and very happy male. He said, "Let us welcome Tule Lind, The legendary Firebird. Her beauty will set your souls on fire and you will be reborn in her embrace. Be welcome!" She bowed deeply, her breasts slipping nicely from the bodice. She blushed as she stood up, now aware they were more visible than ever.

A man immediately climbed the stairs from the dance floor to greet her. He bowed and took her arm. He was dressed in a costume that was garishly reminiscent of fool's attire. The colors were outrageous and what she thought was an anatomically correct cod-piece was, in fact, his own fully functioning equipment painted to look like a part of his costume. She blushed as she realized the man was reacting positively to her own state of partial dress. He laughed, whirled her around and tilted her back to kiss her mouth. His hand ran along the length of her body and into the slit at her hip. The fingers attached to the hand discovered the lack of panties and he beamed. He kissed her a final time and then disappeared to greet the next woman in a similar fashion.

Already, at this early hour of the ball, there were a lot of people. Animals accounted for many of the costumes but there were also recreations of common demon attire, sexually and artistically redesigned for the wearer and nobles' outfits that seemed to missing the fronts, tops, backsides or, simply, were painted on. Those that wore only body paint were glittering, brightly-colored creatures whose paints drew the eye to whatever part (parts) they were trying to emphasize. Elissa spotted one woman with breasts larger than hers held in a kind of frontless halter so that they stuck straight out and squeezed together. Her nipples were decorated with golden tassels, which she spun to the delight of several on-lookers. Periodically, she would remove one of the tassels for an inquisitive tongue.

'Well,' Elissa thought to herself, 'if that woman can be so brave, then why can't I?' She boldly walked up to a strikingly-garbed shark-man, kissed him with her mouth open and grabbed him between his thighs. He moaned and kissed her back, his hand groping her breast. Afterwards, the smile he gifted her with thrilled her. She understood now why these balls exist and, Maker's Breath! She was going to play tonight.

Somewhere far away, in the city of Lydes, Ambrose Fazsile sat in a low chair in the living area above his office. He was in the dark, save for the failing light of a sputtering candle, his pants open wide and his shirt hanging loose about his shoulders. His penis was partially visible as if hastily tucked back into hiding. He held his wine-goblet tightly in his right hand as it dangled over the arm of the chair. It was his third cup since the whore he'd paid to give him oral pleasure left, his need unsatisfied, his thirst unquenched. When was the last time he couldn't maintain himself when a woman was paying attention to him? He knew when. It frustrated him that only one woman had the ability to arouse him anymore. He took a long drink from the goblet and scratched the back of his head with his left hand. The fire needed rebuilding but he was too annoyed to do it. He frowned and gritted his teeth before refilling the cup.

Light suddenly flared, filling the room and cast Ambrose's lean shadow upon the far wall. He held up his arm in protest, sputtering as unwelcome brilliance filled his gloom-ridden sanctuary. An elf, carrying a lantern and a leather-covered bunch of clothing over one arm, entered the room. "Maker's Breath, Ambrose!" he chastised the man with only a hint of Ambrose's thick accent. "You're not shaved? You're not clean? This is madness. Get up and-" He started lighting candles and lanterns as he spoke, further disrupting Ambrose's angry peace.

"I'm not going," growled a deep murmur from the chair.

"Of course you're going, fool. You have to go. I paid for this ticket months ago. The Black Fox always goes to the Lover's Ball. It's tradition! Or has been for the last fifteen years. What will all those ladies do without you, my friend?" The elf laughed and put down the garment and the lantern on the dining table. He then walked around to face Ambrose, his hands on his hips. "Now, as your self-appointed glorified baby-sitter, I command you put down that wine and get cleaned up. Coiffure will be here any minute to do you up as tradition demands."

"I cannot go, Veranon. You do not understand." He took another long draw from the cup, draining it. He reached for the carafe sitting on the floor next to his chair but his hand touched only air. Grumbling, his blue eyes narrowed on Veranon, who was smugly holding the container aloft. "Give me my wine. Please."

Veranon shook his head. "Non. You will not lose yourself to drink tonight. You have a ball to attend and I will ensure that you will go."

"She will be there, Veranon, the woman I told you about. She will look ravishing and I will have to ravish her. Once we make love, it will be over. I will be hers. I am hers. For my sanity and the mission, I must not go."

The skinny elf reached out to him and hauled him to his feet by his arm. He was surprisingly strong for one so much shorter and smaller. The tall human staggered forward with a grunt as the wine swirled straight to his head. Only four glasses! He should not be this dizzy. Ambrose reached for the waist band of his pants as they slipped from his narrow hips.

Veranon's eyes followed and he grinned, grabbing them at the waist. "Forget the mission, my friend. I told you it was crazy when you first left and I think you are crazy still." He pulled him down a hall and then he shoved Ambrose toward the private bathing room and began pumping hot water for a bath. Hot and cold pumps were an expensive luxury Ambrose was gladder than ever that he had purchased. He pulled off his pants and dropped the shirt on to the floor as the tub filled. He stood there, looking and feeling scruffy and awkward but Veranon had seen him this way more times than Ambrose cared to recall. This was nothing new.

"Non. The mission must go forward. If I fail, she dies. They all die."

Veranon helped his friend into the tub and went to the wash basin where Ambrose's shaving equipment lay as Ambrose scrubbed away the dirt and at the bitterness in his heart with a spicy-scented bar of creamy soap. "There has to be another way. She may already be dead, you know."

"You cannot know that." His hands scrubbed now at his chest and under his armpits. His arms and chiseled torso got the soap next.

"But can you be sure, my friend? It's not as if the one making promises is exactly trustworthy. Have you mentioned this to Elissa? Maybe she and her king can assist you? You said he trusts you, that you are friends." Veranon pulled up a short stool to the head of the bathtub and laid out a soft cushion for Ambrose's head and set out his implements of hair-removal.

Ambrose tilted his head back as his friend and partner cradled his head against the back of the tub and his chest. He soaped Ambrose's skin and laid the flat blade against his throat then started scraping away the black hair. "She's in my head, Veranon. If I say a word of this, she is dead. They all die. Then where am I?"

"A single man who no longer has to worry about a wife who won't yield? You would be better off with Elissa and her husband than Aliyena anyway. She has been an emotional drain on you for more than twenty years. Turn your head."

"I love her, Veranon. You know that."

"Paugh. She does not love you."

"Of course she loves me!"

"In the way a sheep loves his shepherd, perhaps. You protect her and that is all. She is not a wife, she is a pet. And she does nothing for you. As long as I have known you, you have been unhappy in your marriage to her. It breaks my heart. With this Elissa, perhaps you can find happiness."

"She has a husband, Mon verte'. I cannot, will not compete with him for her. It would not be fair. I… love him too much to do that to him."

"Why compete? Have you ever considered sharing, my friend Ambrose?"

"Lucrative notion that. However, it is not possible as it is also not normal in their land and likely unacceptable for a queen to have a man on the side. And then there is Alistair… He is a lover of women and so am I but I feel…drawn to him in a way I never dreamed possible. Am I losing my mind?"

"He's not a gender, Ambrose, he is a person for whom you have feelings and there is nothing wrong with that. Look beyond what dangles twixt his legs and focus on what beats 'neath his ribs. My opinion? I think Fereldans are so ridiculous. They would make an exception, I am sure. Unless they're chantry prudes. That's an odd thought considering they are going to the Lover's Ball. That is definitely not a place for Chantry prudes, if you ask me. Stop moving. I almost got it." Veranon scraped away the last of Ambrose's beard and set to trimming the short black hairs on his chest. He was only trimming it, not eliminating it; he thought it added to Ambrose's allure and his sex appeal. He did it in sections using a screen he carefully laid on Ambrose's hirsute chest and the coaxed the hairs through so that he could evenly and neatly trim them. Periodically, he scraped the razor against Ambrose's soft skin where he thought it would look best bare. He also touched up his arms and checked his back for stray hairs. Unlike his chest, Ambrose fortunately had a hairless back. The lashing-scars, however, stood out white against his tanned skin. Veranon winced. When they first met all those years ago, they were puckered and raised more than they were today. There were dozens of them.

Ambrose stood up in the bath tub and tried to take the razor from Veranon's hand but the elf lifted an eyebrow and shook his red-haired head. He cupped the back of Ambrose's head with his hand and stood up on his tip-toes to give him a long, soft kiss, which Ambrose returned with a smirk. His partner moved down the tall Orlesian's body and sat on the tub so that his face was even with Ambrose's groin. He slowly, methodically lathered the area carefully, fully aware that Ambrose was enjoying it more than he should. "Veranon, no…" he started to say in a warning voice but the elf stood up and silenced him with another kiss. He went back down and began lathering once again.

His hands moved slowly back and forth, pleasuring his employer and partner while pretending not to. He'd never been allowed to get so far even though he had tried it at least a dozen times. Even kissing Ambrose was difficult. But tonight, the man was like dough in his hands. He worked him, kneaded him and rolled him until Ambrose was fully risen and heaving with unspent spent need. When he came, he came explosively and leaned forward, his hands supporting himself on Veranon's narrow shoulders. He panted and slid into the cooling water of the tub and enfolded his friend into a desperate hug. He wept into the elf's shoulder until the reservoir was empty of tears.

Veranon helped him stand again, re-lathered his groin and set about trimming away the excess hair around his member and thighs. He neatened the rest and smiled at his handy work. "If you are going to put it on display, my friend, you should make sure it's worth displaying and not hidden by a jungle! You humans! So furry, you are like a bear. Ah! Is that door? Coiffure is here to fix you up and make you the Beau of the Ball. Hurry! Get dressed and meet me downstairs."

Ambrose stepped from the cool water and started to dry his shoulder-length black hair with a towel. "Veranon… I wish to thank you. That was… It proved something to me. Something important that I needed to know."

"Hm? That you can take it from a man as well? You were so high-strung you were going to explode. You would have been useless. By the way, I prepared those papers you asked me to prepare. Are you sure about the changes?"

Ambrose nodded as he dried himself off. "Aye. See to it that if…something happens…well…you know…"

Veranon nodded sagely. "I understand. You're choice is a good one and I will see to it that everything is arranged. Just…Do me a favor?"

Ambrose cocked his head in his charmingly inquisitive way, his wet hair in his eyes and said, "Hm?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Just… Don't. Or I'll have to find a new job."

To Be Continued.
- 22
- 23
- 24
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Tainted Dreams