Original prompt from the Dragon Age Kink Meme (anonymous prompter):
Marian and Isabela go shopping for lingerie and end up having loud, raunchy sex in one of the dressing rooms. Bonus points if they're at a chichi Hightown boutique and manage to scandalize everybody. Just keep it fun and sexy.
Bottomless Joy
Prologue – A Limerick:
Our heroines browsed the boutiques
for fashions to fit their physiques –
when the pirate's desire
for naughty attire
brought color to Hawke's lovely cheeks.
"I thought you might have liked this one. She said it was Antivan."
"No lady of Antiva would ever wear that thing – and neither should you."
"So, then... perhaps, the silver one was better?"
"I hated that one too! If you're going to ask for my opinion, love, at least try to remember it after it's been given."
Isabela was long past bored. They'd spent all morning going from one Hightown boutique to another to find a dress for Marian's thing this evening – what was it? Some sort of ball, or coming-out party, to introduce her to Hightown society… allow her to kiss up to the nobles, and vice versa. The kind of dreadful function that any good Rivaini pirate would never be caught dead at. She'd declined Marian's invitation, but did at least agree to help her pick out a proper outfit. The silly girl had the fashion sense of – well... of a farmer from Ferelden.
Unimpressed by the wares at several other stores, they had finally arrived at Corso's, the last and most prestigious destination on their list. Looking around, she wondered how it was that a place like this had even allowed them inside; the other customers were all unquestionably highborn, the price tags even steeper than the Black Emporium's. What was Marian thinking?
It was annoying enough that they'd both had to put on staid, Hightown-style dresses for the day in order to get actual service from the merchants at each store. But when Madame Corso herself came over to ask haughtily whether the mistress needed any assistance, it took a supreme effort from Isabela simply to smile politely, and refrain from choking the old hag senseless.
"Are we anywhere near finished?" Isabela fidgeted against the tight stitching of her upper-class clothing. Andraste's ashes… she'd finally understood why all Hightown women walked the way they did: it wasn't a stick up their arses, just fabric.
"How can we be? You haven't liked a thing yet... which I do appreciate, by the way. I really must look perfect for the Highborn Ball tonight". Marian popped out briefly from behind the curtain of the dressing stall, and grabbed another outfit from the pile to try on. "Kirkwall's nobles won't abide a frumpy looking Champion."
Marian closed the curtain in front of her again, and continued. "You know, if you ever agree to join me at one of these functions, then we can look for a dress for you, too."
"Ah… to spend an evening under the glare of stuffed shirts and their cackling wives, suffocating beneath so many bustles and corsets and ruffles… I think I'd prefer to be shipwrecked again, thank you."
Isabela took a bored glance around the store as Marian dressed. The elderly proprietress stared daggers at her. The other noble ladies in the store either gave her similar looks, or ignored her entirely.
Yes, everyone, let's gawk at the swarthy Rivaini in her borrowed Hightown rags, Isabela thought to herself bitterly. Why did she ever agree to this?
"How about this one?"
Marian parted the curtain and walked out in a ruffled sky blue dress with a very frilly neckline. Her wonderful curves were swallowed entirely by abundant billows of fabric. Isabela sighed; this was hopeless.
"Someday, my dear, I will take you to Rivain, where tailors know how to fashion a dress so that it will flatter the body, rather than devour it."
But the other woman was focused now, and barely registered her complaint. "Go fetch me something else, then... maybe in green." She retreated behind the curtain again.
Isabela made her way through the store to look for another outfit, trading flippant looks with a highborn lady who stared at her. As she passed the lingerie section, she was stopped by a sudden thought.
She glanced around at the other women in the store, and then laughed wickedly to herself.
Perhaps the morning would be redeemed, after all.
In the small dressing room, Marian stood frowning at a long, thin mirror. The green satin dress was lovely enough in color, but its neckline dipped a bit too daringly. For a Champion of Kirkwall, it simply wouldn't do. She had worked too hard and sacrificed too much, and tonight she could not let the nobles have anything less than the highest opinion of her.
Isabela's voice rang cheerily from outside the stall. "Try this one on, sweetie." Brown hands slid a paper-wrapped bundle towards her beneath the curtain. Marian unwrapped it and saw a set of black underclothes within.
"Lingerie! Are you daft? I can't wear this to the ball!"
"It's just one little item to try on, for me. I'll even buy it for you, if you fancy it. And then we can get back to those horrible foofy dresses of yours". Isabela had raised her voice for some reason, as if the curtain were now a solid wall. "You owe me, Hawke, for this whole blasted morning, for having to put this awful thing on and get stared at by–"
"All right! All right, I'll try it on." She cut her off, embarrassed by the outburst. Her dear Rivaini could be so coarse at times, with manners as indecent as her thoughts. Marian laughed to herself, wondering how it was that she'd managed to find a lover who was so unlike her.
In truth, she was greatly relieved that Isabela wouldn't be joining her at the party tonight. The woman would surely find a way to scandalize her, and perhaps a few of the guests as well.
Marian placed the paper bundle on a small wooden stool in the corner of the changing stall. She unwrapped it, and took out first what appeared to be a lacy black Orlesian bustier. The intricate, floral threadwork was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Though completely black in color, its surface seemed to swirl as the light played upon its sheen. Perhaps it was enchanted?
Well now, this is certainly different, she thought to herself.
Beyond the curtain, Isabela giggled softly.
Marian took off the green satin dress and folded it carefully, setting it upon the stool, and replaced the rest of the lingerie on top of it. She then slipped off all her smallclothes, standing naked within the stall. The bustier was cool and smooth within her hands, and slipped on easily over her slender frame. The material – just what was it, exactly? – was light, but supported her snugly, augmenting her small, shapely breasts. Its absolute darkness was breathtaking against her alabaster skin, and its artful cut showed off her cleavage and midriff to great effect.
Now, this definitely has been magicked. Must be worth an Arl's ransom... I can't possibly allow her to pay for it.
She preened in front of the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman now reflected within.
Silly girl lives hand to mouth as it is... or rather, hand to bottle to mouth…
Marian was curious to try on the underpants. However, when she stooped to unwrap the rest of the paper, she found that the only remaining items were a pair of stockings, and a lacy black shawl; the set was incomplete.
"Isabela?" She said gently through the curtain.
"Yes?"
"Where's the bottom?"
"Oh… sorry, one moment…"
The curtain opened; Marian looked up to see a familiar pair of shapely dark breasts, hanging freely and unfettered before her, fringed from above by a mane of black hair. Isabela strutted into the stall, hands on hips, completely naked except for the missing pair of black lace Orlesian underpants.
"Your bottom is right here, Serrah." Her pierced nipples stood rigidly out from her chest, echoing her saucy attitude.
Marian caught a glimpse of a discarded Hightown dress on the floor beyond the curtain.
Maker's breath, Isabela... outside? In front of the whole store?
Reeling, she dropped the shawl and the stockings. Her mouth was still open in surprise when Isabela stepped in to seal it with a kiss.
Isabela drew the curtain closed, admiring the display of their reciprocal nudity. She leaned into a tight embrace, nuzzling her embroidered smalls up against Marian's naked, shaven mound, pressing her own bare breasts up against their beautifully clothed counterparts. Her studded nipples met Marian's unadorned ones through the fine lace, and she felt them engorge against her.
She snaked her hands around the small of Marian's back, and then up beneath the magnificent bustier, admiring the magical fabric as it rippled over her busy hands. Both women pushed their hips forward into each other, giggling and then moaning quietly, grinding stiffness against stiffness, the delicate black briefs on Isabela's body sliding between them as they jousted.
After a fair bit of kissing and impassioned frottage, Marian recovered enough composure to jest playfully . "Perhaps we might trade, a little later on?"
Isabela said nothing, but pushed Marian down upon the wooden stool, forcing the other woman to sit reluctantly upon the green satin dress. She smiled mischievously, her eyes wild.
You might not be conscious then, my dear…
Isabela knelt, diving into the warmth of Marian's cleft, tonguing deep into her opening, lapping up its thick taste in firm, languid strokes. Marian rifled fingers through Isabela's hair in response, inhaling and exhaling softly.
Nervous, are we? Trying not to make any noise?
Was it Marian's first time in public? Isabela was tickled by the thought.
Well then, Champion… consider this your coming-out party, before the coming-out party...
Frustrated at having wasted the morning on ridiculous dresses, she took out her pent-up energy on the eager flesh beneath her.
"Mmmmmm..."
Her tongue now sufficiently wetted, Isabela ascended to feather a gentle circle around the swelling hood, careful not to touch it. She knew this would get the girl off quickly – but Marian only shivered, biting back whimpering sighs. Isabela lowered her forehead, putting gentle pressure on the mound. She leaned forward, her nose searching for the familiar musk that had always intensified with moisture.
Bloody hell, love, why won't you get wet?
Isabela curled her left hand around Marian's bottom and pried open her cheeks, tracing her rim lazily with a fingertip. The woman's taint, at least, was warm and moist. The maneuver earned an approving albeit reserved groan. Marian writhed upon the green satin, her thighs now against Isabela's ears.
There were noises behind them, beyond the curtain: a footfall, and then a surprised gasp. Isabela felt a sudden tension within Marian's legs, and then a hand upon her head, trying to stop her.
"Wait!" Marian whispered. But Isabela silenced her with a quick tongue lash, obliterating any thoughts or words that might have followed. "Isab– ohhh…"
In response to her anxiety, Isabela started slurping audibly, making even more noise. Playfully, she wiggled her feet, which she knew were visible below the curtain to everyone in the store.
We're found out now, my dear. Might as well put on a good show.
With each subsequent moment, her lover relaxed a little bit more. Isabela's tongue found more slickness as it darted in, eliciting louder moans with each pass. The hand on her head eased, its pressure no longer trying to silence her, but goading her on. Voices gathered and grew outside the curtained stall, but the muscled white legs over her shoulders simply softened, settling into a comfortable angle of repose. She smiled; the girl had finally resigned herself to being eaten out like an oyster in the back of a Hightown boutique.
Isabela had hoped that the lingerie and the surprise seduction would spice things up for both of them. Her relationship with Marian was the longest and most satisfying that she'd yet been a part of, and she enjoyed finding ways to keep it from ever becoming too ordinary. It was a novel challenge, keeping herself ready to use all her tricks at a moment's notice – to work a familiar set of ropes against a seascape of ever-changing winds and tides.
But today's affair was especially amusing. She thought of the haughty noblewomen just beyond the curtain, and how quickly the news of their public tryst would spread throughout Hightown. It hardly mattered now which dress Marian chose for her party; every lord and lady in attendance would be picturing her naked in a stall at Corso's.
Isabela of Rivain would not be among the guests at the Highborn Ball tonight, but she would certainly dominate their conversation.
Her jaw began to tire, and her efforts were making her hungry; they were going to miss the noonday meal at this rate. It was time to bring this ship in to port.
Besides, it was clear that the ladies in the store were content simply to giggle and mill about stupidly behind the curtain. Not one of them had approached the stall, or asked to join in the fun.
She would definitely need to take Marian to Rivain, soon.
Isabela brought up her right hand to curl a finger inside, past the reach of her tongue, to stroke the woman from within. The soft hands left her head, and she knew that Marian was now playing with her own lovely breasts underneath the black lace. She felt the thighs upon her ears and neck beading with sweat, and imagined it also sticking to the fine fabric on Marian's chest, and soaking into the now-ruined satin dress on the stool beneath her.
Her tongue tightened the circle it had been tracing, now coiling tenderly upon the swollen nub. With a practiced motion, her slippery finger flickered insistently within the moistened orifice just below, beckoning Marian towards the summit.
She felt a familiar spasm throughout Marian's legs, the sudden quiver that always announced her imminent climax . Upon a wave of pleasure, her lover crested, threatening to break. Isabela could tell that she was fighting one last time to hold the surge inside of her, to exhale silently, and not make too much of a scene for their gathered audience.
Oh, but we've come too far to stop now, my love.
Isabela moved her left hand back towards Marian's naively puckered rim, and extended a knowing finger.
Aleria Corso cursed herself for not acting immediately upon her suspicions earlier. She had just known that the Rivaini was going to be trouble the moment she'd seen her come into the store, but unfortunately she let herself become preoccupied with other, more deserving customers.
Once the damn wench had started stripping by the changing room, it was too late; her old-fashioned Hightown modesty would never let her approach another person in any state of undress – not even a lowborn. So the damage was done, but at least she knew now never to let the Rivaini back into her fine establishment again.
She was able to shoo most of the shocked noblewomen away and out of the store before the first long, terrible moan erupted from within the stall, followed by a desperate panting.
The Rivaini's mistress wouldn't be allowed back, either – Champion, or not.
Her boutique now otherwise emptied, she hung the sign upon the doorknob before leaving herself, and locking the door behind her.
Gone for lunch.
Back in one hour.
Fin