I'm sorry about the crazy long wait between the last chapter and this one.
I was elected to my local town council, which takes up a lot of my time. Juggling this role with my other commitments has been challenging. However, with Christmas coming and the council going into recess in early December, I'll have more time to focus on writing. Let's get started.
...
Louise, eager to prepare for the mission Henrietta gave her - takes Michael and Siesta into Lenore to buy new clothes.
Clothes Shopping
Louise, rubbing her eyes and humming gently, awakens for the day ahead. Sleep's blur clearing from her pink eyes, she casts her gaze downward to find Siesta and Michael fast asleep in the maid's mattress bed below.
"Michael, Siesta..." Louise calls out to the couple, keeping her tone soft. When there is no response from them, Louise lets out a gentle hum, a hint of a smile on her face, and pushes herself out of her bed and onto her knees.
Siesta, stirring, opens her eyes and slowly raises herself to a sitting position on the bed. Louise, a smile still gracing her lips, reaches over and places her left hand on the maid's shoulder.
"...We have an errand to carry out in Lenore," the petite pinkette states in a hushed voice. Her fingers press into the fabric of Siesta's linen and she gives a firm but gentle nod. "So you must dress and be ready for when I awaken Michael."
Siesta's eyes flutter shut for a brief moment and she nods.
"Of course, Miss Louise," the maid acknowledges. With slow and careful movements, Siesta begins to stand, mindful not to awaken her slumbering partner beside her.
"Very well. Please make haste," Louise whispers, giving the girl's shoulder an encouraging pat before she draws back and crawls off of the bed, her small feet pressing into the cold stone floor beneath her.
With a nod, Siesta, clad in her nightdress, hurries toward the closet at the back of the room. As the sound of her footsteps fades, Louise, taking a few steps toward the sleeping form of her familiar, gazes down upon his peaceful form. She then, taking care to not make much sound, kneels and places her lips to the sleeping man's cheek.
"Michael, wake up," she whispers in the quiet room, gently shaking his shoulder to rouse him. Her hand lingers there, the warmth of his skin seeping into her fingertips as he begins to stir.
"...Hmmm?" he murmurs, the haze of slumber still clouding his senses.
With a soft hum, Louise's eyes flutter shut and she leans down, planting another soft kiss on his cheek. "Open your eyes, idiot..." Her voice, tender despite the playful insult, carries a gentle urgency.
As Michael's lashes part and his eyes meet her own, a warmth spreads through Louise, and she can't help but let her lips curl into a shy smile. "Come on, get up," she coaxes, cupping his cheek.
At this, Michael's arms coil around Louise's slim waist and he gently draws her near.
"Oh, you tease," she whispers, a tinge of playfulness lacing her tone.
The blonde man hums in response and, his lips curving into a smile, he leans in to capture Louise's mouth in a tender kiss.
Her breath hitches in her chest as their lips meet, her heart fluttering in response to his touch. Then, Louise finds herself melting into the embrace, her small hands instinctively clutching at his clothes as she presses deeper into the kiss.
A small clearing of the throat soon sounds beside the pair, however.
Louise's eyes snap open at this sudden interruption, and she sees her maid, now fully dressed in her uniform, kneeling beside the two.
Louise, her cheeks now ablaze and her pulse racing, quickly pushes Michael away from her, a huffy, almost irate puff of air escaping her.
At this, Siesta takes her chance to lean in with a playful giggle and places a hand on Louise and Michael's shoulders.
She starts first by leaning nearer Louise, her lips pursing.
Louise, her heart still racing, gazes up at Siesta, her breaths shallow. The world seems to fade around her, and her mind becomes a jumble of emotions and thoughts, as the maid's lips inch nearer.
A flash of the kiss they shared on the night of the three being passionate together in this very room, and the sensation of the maid's lips against, surges to the front of her thoughts.
Siesta then places a quick, affectionate kiss on Louise's lips. The kiss, a tender and reassuring gesture, is meant to ease the girl's tension.
Louise, caught off guard, gasps and her body stiffens.
Then, with a swift yet tender motion, Siesta moves on to Michael and presses a kiss to his mouth too.
Louise, still taken aback by the maid's sudden actions, feels her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Satisfaction surges within her all the while.
"One for you," Siesta says to Louise as she draws back from the kiss, "and one for you," she then adds to Michael with a wink.
Michael, a small, satisfied smile curving his lips upwards, glances at Louise. "...Damn, girl, we're being spoiled this morning."
Louise, her face a picture of shy confusion, quickly pushes herself up and stands tall, a hand rising to cup the flushed skin of her left cheek. The girl, overwhelmed by the moment and Siesta's sudden displays of affection, simply stares back at her familiar.
Here, Siesta giggles and draws the pinkette's attention back onto her.
"...Was it too forward of me, Miss Louise?" she asks, her eyes carrying a hint of mischief. "If so, then please do forgive me..."
At this, the blonde man chuckles and gives Louise's shoulder an affectionate pat, the contact causing the petite girl to flinch and take a step back.
"N-No, I don't suppose it was, b-but..." The dainty mage, struggling to find her words, glances down at the floor, a hint of pink dusting her porcelain skin.
"..Just warn me next time, you silly maid," she eventually manages, crossing her arms over her chest and averting her gaze.
"Of course, Miss Louise." Siesta's words are soft, filled with understanding and acceptance, and her voice carries a hint of affection as well.
Seconds passing in silence, Louise fixates on the kiss she and Siesta just shared.
The tenderness of it. The bliss of it.
The feeling of the maid's soft lips upon hers and the gentle caress of her breath mingling with her own...
Louise finds her thoughts becoming lost to it all, her heart thumping in her chest.
And, her feelings speaking where words fail her, Louise's delicate hands reach out for the maid and pull her closer, their bodies almost touching as Louise leans upward.
"Another one will suffice, I think," she whispers, their breaths intermingling. Then, her heart pounding, Louise closes her eyes and captures Siesta's lips in a kiss. This one is more passionate and fervent than before, the emotions welling up from deep within the depths of her stomach.
With the warmth of Siesta's mouth and the gentle caress of her breath upon hers, Louise's world seems to shrink around the maid. Everything else - Michael, the room, and the responsibilities awaiting her outside the bedroom's walls - fade into the background.
Then, Louise's senses come to life. She hears the soft, almost inaudible sighs of Siesta, the gentle sound of the maid's breathing as she takes in air.
Louise's heart skips a beat when Siesta's hand cups the side of her face, and her pulse races as her soft, dainty hands slide along Siesta's waist.
The pinkette's mind becomes consumed by the kiss, her every thought and feeling revolving around the intimate moment she is sharing with Siesta.
A shudder passes down the girl's spine when Michael's mouth finds the junction of her shoulder.
Louise's eyes widen as the heat of his lips sears her skin and she pulls away from Siesta. Her breathing quickens, and she finds herself lost between the two, not quite knowing what to say, nor how to feel about the sudden escalation in passion.
"Figured that'd get your attention, love," he utters, his voice a gentle caress. His lips, soft and warm, trail along the delicate skin of her shoulder, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Each kiss feels like a spark of thunder, sending shivers down her spine and setting her skin ablaze with desire.
Just short of pushing the dainty mage beyond the limits of her control, however, Michael inches away.
"...But, I'm guessing you woke us for something other than this, right?"
Siesta, who has since retreated, gives a knowing smile as she stands tall.
"Oh, yes... of course..." Louise says, feeling the flush of her skin and the warmth of her breath as she struggles to catch it. Louise's eyes dart around the room, searching for something, anything to focus on besides the heat and desire that threatens to overwhelm her.
"We have an errand to carry out, Michael," she eventually manages.
Michael's lovely green eyes glint with realization.
The otherwordly familiar snaps his fingers and in recollection. "The one from Henrietta, obviously."
Louise, still trying to calm the racing of her heart, gives a small, barely noticeable nod.
"The very same," she confirms. Louise then clears her throat and takes another step back from Michael, crossing her arms over her chest once more.
Siesta, a slight hint of confusion creasing her pretty features, tilts her head.
"...Does this have something to do with your time in Tristania, Miss Louise?"
"It does," Michael interjects, patting the maid's shoulder. He then looks at Louise. "We getting her up to speed on this, Princess?"
The petite pinkette, a soft and knowing smile playing at her lips, gives a simple nod.
From here, Louise spends a good few minutes explaining the secret mission imparted upon her and Michael whilst they visited Tristania. She goes into detail about the crooked tax collector she and the familiar have been tasked with finding, and their need to disguise themselves as commoners so as to not attract attention.
Siesta, seemingly bright for one of her birthright, takes all of his in and nods along.
"So..." she begins once her mistress finishes, "...you'll be going undercover and need to buy commoner clothes?"
Louise nods again.
Siesta's face brightens, her eyes sparkling. "...You're trusting me with finding you outfits, Miss Louise?"
At this, the pinkette's smile falters somewhat, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her delicate features.
Michael, noticing the shift, lets out a chuckle.
"You're sounding pretty excited, Siesta."
Siesta's cheeks tinge with a hint of pink, and a small, nervous chuckle escapes her.
"Oh, I am, more than you can imagine." Her smile widening, Siesta gets to her feet and touches her hands to Louise's dainty shoulders. Her doing so causes Louise's heart to jump in her chest for what has to be the third time in mere minutes.
"I just so happen to know a lovely shop in Lenore's Tailor Street: It sells the nicest of skirts and the most adorable berets," she gushes. Siesta then leans down, her face mere inches away from her mistress' and her breath hot against Louise's flushed cheeks. "I can just imagine how lovely you'll look in them, Miss Louise..."
The petite pinkette, her eyes wide and her heart racing, feels her breath catch in her throat, her mind struck with a hint of unease over the idea of having to dress like an everyday peasant.
This nervousness manifests itself as a small, nervous frown.
"W-Well, just be sure they at least look nice, alright...?"
Siesta's eyes are aglitter with excitement and anticipation. "But, of course!"
Then, Louise feels her stomach churn at the prospect of looking less than noble, and a wave of trepidation washes over her.
"Careful there, Louise, the classism's coming out again," Michael teases with a small, wicked smirk. He gives the small girl a playful nudge with his elbow.
Louise's cheeks flare up and her eyebrows furrow.
"S-Shut up, you! When I want my familiar's opinion, I'll ask for it...!"
Michael, his grin unwavering, lets out a hearty laugh.
"Right, right... just be kind to Siesta, okay? You'll look great in whatever she buys you."
Louise, feeling the flush of embarrassment creeping up her face, lets out a huffy scoff.
"M-Michael...!"
Siesta, a wide smile on her pretty lips, leans closer and gives her a reassuring nod. "...Do not worry, Miss Louise. You'll look very, very cute, trust me."
Almost overwhelmed by the compliments of both her familiar and her maid, Louise feels her cheeks flare up again, the heat creeping up to the tips of her ears. She averts her eyes and, in an attempt to hide her flustered state, crosses her arms over her chest and huffs.
"F-Fine! Let's just go and get this over with, before I change my mind..."
Together, Siesta and Michael each laugh together.
Louise, Michael, and Siesta walk down the streets of Lenore toward Tailor's Street.
...
Louise, her long, elegant cloak swishing in the wind, strides confidently down the cobbled street. Other commoners make way for her, some offering bows in her passing.
The townsfolk, dressed in their common attire, save a few passing nobles and students from Tristain's academy, bustle about their day. Some carry baskets of fruit and bread, others lug carts laden with goods. A smith's hammer clanks rhythmically against an anvil in a nearby workshop, the smell of smelted iron heavy in the air. Nearby, the rich aromas of freshly baked bread waft from a baker's storefront, causing Michael's stomach to growl.
Siesta, leading the trio with an almost child-like energy about her, glances back at them, her face bright. "It's not far now, Miss Louise."
Michael, his stride casual and relaxed, smiles. "Cool, cool, we're keeping up."
Siesta, giggling and blushing slightly, turns away and continues ahead. "Good. It's the next shop but one."
As Siesta strides on, her short black hair catches in the breeze. Michael catches up and takes his place at her side, matching her stride for stride.
Louise, trailing just behind the two, finds herself growing more anxious by the minute.
Her eyes, scanning the bustling street, fall upon a small, unassuming shopfront with a modest sign hanging above the door, the words "Mlles and Michelle Tailors" painted on it.
Louise's heart flutters, and she can feel a knot in her chest. Her gaze shifts to Siesta and Michael, and a small, nervous smile graces her lips.
"...Is this the place, Siesta?"
The dark-haired maid, a cheerful gleam in her eye, looks back at Louise and gives a small nod.
"Yes, Miss Louise, this is the shop I spoke of," she confirms, taking in the storefront.
The small shop stands amidst the bustling street. Its walls, a blend of rustic wood and weathered stone, give the structure an aged yet charming appeal.
A modest window displays a variety of garments, from simple yet elegant skirts and dresses to intricately crafted hats.
"Here's hoping they've got some decent outfits for you two," Michael chimes in, a hint of enthusiasm in his voice. "I'm eager to see how you'll look when we're done."
At this, Louise, her heart beating fast in her chest, turns her head away and crosses her arms over her chest, a slight hint of embarrassment colouring her cheeks.
"Just get me whatever's nicest, Siesta," the small mage tells her servant, her voice carrying a note of defiance. Then, her eyes shifting back onto Siesta and Michael, she adds. "I'll not settle for some peasant rags..."
The maid, her expression thoughtful, gives Louise a knowing nod.
Siesta then reaches out and, taking Louise's small hand into hers, gently pulls her forward.
"The nicest they have, of course," she assures the petite pinkette, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze. Louise, caught off guard by the sudden show of affection, can only offer a shy, hesitant nod.
With that, Siesta guides her mistress to the shops, her steps filled with a sense of purpose and anticipation. The door opens with a gentle chime, announcing their arrival to the world.
Before she steps inside, however, Louise reaches into her pocket and takes out a small leather coin purse. Passing it off to Michael, the petite mage offers a faint smile.
Michael, the smallest hint of surprise flickering across his face, takes it from her without question and looks between the coin purse and his mistress a couple of times.
"Money...? You're actually giving me some?" he questions, his tone coloured by a hint of surprise.
Louise's eyes flutter shut and she huffs, a hint of impatience and a hint of playfulness about her.
"A gift, for your gallant acts in Tristania," Louise explains, her cheeks tinged with a subtle hue of embarrassment, the words rolling off her tongue with a touch of hesitancy and a hint of fondness. "And... a token of gratitude for your companionship."
Louise, her cheeks now burning and her pulse racing in her ears, quickly adds: "B-But you're to spend it wisely and make it last, got that?"
Michael, opening out the coin purse, empties the five gold coins into his palm.
Siesta, her eyes going wide, gaps.
The blonde looks between Siesta and his blushing mistress a couple of times, and then back to the coins in his palm.
"...Just how much money am I looking at here?"
Louise, a small sigh escaping her lips, gazes at Michael and shakes her head.
"Enough, idiot," she says, a hint of amusement lacing her words.
Siesta, her voice barely a whisper, leans closer to Michael. "Each gold coin is worth fifty silver, the coin of commoners," she informs him. The blonde, his brows lifting in surprise, gives the coins a gentle toss in his hand, the metallic jingle a comforting melody to his ears.
Louise, smugness and satisfaction swelling within her small chest over being so generous, hums.
"It's a lot, Michael, more than most peasants see in a season," she says. Her voice carries a blend of pride and aloofness as she watches the familiar's face light up with surprise.
Then, Michael chuckles.
"Cheers, Princess, I'll make it last," he promises with a warm, sincere smile, tucking the coins back into his pocket. "But, I'll be spending it on you and Siesta, too, yeah?"
At this, the pinkette's heart flutters and her cheeks burn with warmth, a shy, grateful smile finding its way to her lips. Her small hands, trembling ever so slightly, clench into tiny, determined fists, and her delicate fingers tighten around Siesta's.
"Of course, idiot, just try not to let that go to your head."
Louise's tone, soft and filled with fondness, holds a hint of vulnerability beneath its usual bluntness.
Her familiar, her idiot, still wants to treat her with the money she has gifted him...!
"Got it," he says, his voice carrying a playful note. "And... thank you."
Louise then feels a hand cupping the side of her cheek, Michael's hand. The touch, gentle and reassuring, sends a rush of warmth through Louise, and her breath hitches for the briefest of moments.
"Want me to come in with you girls, or are you good?" Michael asks.
The dainty mage, her eyes fluttering shut at the touch, gives a shy shake of her head. Her long pink curls dance with the movement.
"Y-You may go, just be sure you're back here before sundown, Michael," Louise says.
Then, with a quick turn, she steps toward Siesta and the two disappear inside.
...
Louise, standing before the changing room's ornate full-length mirror, admires herself. A wave of uncertainty washes over the petite girl, and she shifts, trying to see her new attire from different angles. Her pink curls, normally bouncing and free, are now elegantly styled in a simple ponytail.
"I don't know about this one, Siesta," she calls to the maid waiting behind the curtain.
As Siesta draws back the curtain and steps in, Louise turns to face her, her eyes filled with worry. The outfit she currently wears is a full-length linen dress with a white bodice and a simple, yet beautiful skirt. It fits perfectly around her petite frame, but something about it just feels off.
"It's just..." Louise begins, her voice trailing off. "...The fabric is so plain and simple, it lacks refinement."
Louise sighs and looks at herself in the mirror again. Her brows furrowed, she tries to see herself as a commoner would. She's never worn such a plain, unadorned dress, but she can't deny its comfort.
All the while, standing patiently behind her in the mirror, Siesta offers an empathetic nod and hum of acknowledgement. The dark-haired maid's eyes, a gentle shade of blue, reflect a depth of understanding.
"I understand, Miss Louise," Siesta finally says, her voice gentle and kind. She moves closer and reaches for the fabric, giving it a light tug to show off its texture. "But this is high-quality linen. It may lack the opulence of silk or velvet, but it's comfortable, practical, and easy to move around in,
The maid's words, laced with wisdom, carry a reassuring tone as she smiles softly at Louise's reflection.
Louise sighs and nods in response, her small fingers running across the fabric of her new dress.
"...I cannot believe all of you commoners wear these things," Louise finally mutters, a note of disdain lacing her words as she surveys herself once more.
With a light, airy chuckle, Siesta nods and places a reassuring hand on Louise's shoulder.
"Respectfully, Miss, our place in society means we simply cannot afford the luxury of expensive fabrics and intricate embroidery. Linen, like the one you are wearing now, is durable and affordable."
Louise, her eyebrows arching in thought, turns her attention back to the mirror and gives a hesitant nod.
"Meaning, to keep my disguise intact, I must grin and bear this ridiculous thing...?"
Siesta's expression turns to one of sympathy and quiet determination, and she gives a reassuring squeeze to Louise's shoulder. Her blue eyes meet Louise's in the mirror, she speaks with a tone that's both gentle and firm.
"Yes, Miss Louise. You'll need to get used to wearing it, at least until the mission is over."
Louise's eyes fall shut, a small, almost imperceptible shudder coursing through her petite frame.
"...I would prefer something different, at the very least," she says, her voice barely a whisper. Her fingers, delicate and slender, brush against the plain fabric of the skirt, the simplicity of it a stark contrast to the luxurious dresses she's used to.
Here, a thought flashes through Louise's mind.
"I-I mean, surely there's something that at least looks nice on me..."
Louise then opens her eyes and, with a hint of determination and a dash of embarrassment, she faces Siesta. Heartbeat rising in her small chest, Louise takes a step closer to her maid, her petite stature dwarfed by Siesta's taller, more mature frame. Louise, her pink cheeks now ablaze with warmth and her small hands clutched in front of her, gazes up at Siesta.
"...You commoners sometimes wear short skirts, yes...?" the petite pinkette asks, her voice a timid whisper.
At this, Siesta's face lights up with a knowing smirk.
"Indeed, we do, Miss Louise."
Louise, feeling her cheeks flare even further, quickly averts her gaze. "W-Well... perhaps... perhaps you can find me one of those, and... I could give it a try?"
Siesta, chuckling, bows respectfully for her mistress.
"But of course," she obliges, rising again. "However..."
Here, Siesta steps closer to the small girl and places her hands upon Louise's small, slender shoulders. "I would need to know how long you desire it to be, Miss."
Louise, feeling the gentle warmth of Siesta's touch seeping through her clothing, finds herself momentarily distracted by the proximity between them.
And, as it does, the kiss they shared this morning returns to her in a spark.
"J-Just past the knees is fine, thank you," the dainty girl says, feeling the heat of Siesta's body radiating onto her own.
"Of course," the maid whispers.
Louise, feeling the blush on her cheeks spreading further, can only give a faint, shy nod.
"G-Good, I'll take this one off and await your return."
Siesta's smile broadens, her blue eyes sparkling. Her hands, gentle and reassuring, move from Louise's shoulders to the delicate, lace-trimmed fabric of Louise's dress. "Let me help you," the maid offers.
Louise's heart skips a beat, her pulse quickening. The small mage's breath hitches, a sudden surge of warmth and nervousness coursing through her as she nods again.
"A-Alright, just be gentle."
With careful and practised movements, Siesta gently undoes the ties that hold the dress together. Louise feels her breath quicken, each movement of the maid's fingers bringing her closer to a state of vulnerability.
The fabric slides down, the air caressing Louise's pale, exposed skin. The room around them seems to fade, their breathing the only sound breaking the silence. The light from the window dances on their skin, painting shadows across their features.
Louise, feeling exposed yet comforted by the familiar presence of Siesta, allows herself to relax under her touch.
"Raise your arms, please," Siesta instructs, her voice barely above a whisper.
Louise complies, her heart racing as the maid slips the dress off, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.
Siesta's eyes linger for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze, before she turns away, her focus now on folding the dress neatly and setting it aside. Louise, her chest tightening with a mix of embarrassment and a strange anticipation, lowers her arms.
"S-Siesta..."
Louise's words, a soft murmur in the still room, are met with a gentle hum of acknowledgement from her maid.
"Miss?"
Louise's thoughts, a swirling kaleidoscope of emotions, find a voice in her words.
"...Find something that you think Michael will like."
Siesta's response is immediate, a quiet yet firm "yes, Miss" echoing in the confined space.
With that, the maid, with a slight hint of a bow, turns and exits, the curtain fluttering closed behind her.
Louise, her small chest heaving, fixes her gaze upon her petite reflection in the mirror.
Her face is beet red. Her small frame shudders.
And, perhaps the most perverse of all, the tiny buds of her nipples are hard with arousal.
Louise, her small fingers tracing along her skin, can't help but feel a strange, yet undeniable excitement building within her.
This excitement is furthered when Louise notices the wetness in her underwear.
"God... what am I thinking?" she murmurs to herself, feeling the wetness between her thighs.
"...Michael and Siesta...?" the small mage utters, a hint of nervous excitement in her tone as her mind wanders back to the intimate kisses the three shared in her bedroom this morning.
Louise then looks toward the curtain.
"She's here for his satisfaction, not mine..."
The mage's hand then drifts downward, tracing her flat tummy until her fingers brush against the damp spot between her legs. The sensation, coupled with the memory of their kiss and the anticipation of Siesta's return, sends a jolt through Louise's petite body, causing her to gasp.
With it, comes another flash of memory: That of the maid gleefully lapping at her oozing womanhood whilst Michael pumped his strong, virile manhood down the back of her throat.
"Ohh God..." Louise moans aloud.
Her breath catches in her throat, and her small heart pounds against her ribs. Louise, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her petite form, feels the warmth between her thighs intensify, the wetness growing with each passing moment.
"S-Siesta...! When you find the dress, just hand it to me, you needn't come in again," Louise calls out to Siesta, her voice wavering.
"Of course, Miss."
With that, Siesta disappears back into the main part of the store.
Louise's hand, trembling and timid, hovers over the growing wetness between her thighs, her tiny, rock-hard buds rising and falling with each breath.
Louise's small, pale hand presses against her damp underwear, eliciting a gasp of both pleasure and uncertainty. The fabric, soaked with her desire, clings to her skin, the warmth and wetness of her arousal palpable.
Her delicate fingers, trembling with trepidation, slide past the waistband, seeking the warmth of her sex. The first brush against her folds sends a shiver up Louise's spine, a wave of pleasure washing over her petite frame.
"Oh...! " she gasps, her voice a whisper in the silence of the room.
The heat between her thighs intensifies as Louise's fingers begin a tentative dance across her sensitive bud, each touch sparking a jolt of ecstasy through her small body.
"Oh... Goddess..." Louise whines.
Her free hand clutches her budding breast, the sensation of her fingertips against the rock-hard nub of her nipple amplifying the waves of pleasure that ripple through her.
"Ohh... Siesta..." she mumbles to herself, feeling her heart racing in her chest, the steady rhythm a backdrop to the symphony of sensations she's creating. Her breathing grows heavy and ragged, her small breasts rising and falling with each gasping inhale.
Her fingers, slick with her juices, find a steady rhythm, a delicate, intimate caress that sends her petite form into a spiral of bliss. Louise's mind, lost in a haze of desire and passion, conjures up images of Siesta, her kind, beautiful maid. Then, her handsome blonde familiar.
Both shirtless and clammy within the confines of her bed-chamber, the two lock lips for her satisfaction, their fingers locking together into a tight clasp.
As Michael pulls Siesta in close and their lips meet, Louise can almost hear the wet, hungry sounds they'd make, their tongues dancing in a passionate waltz. Their hands would explore each other, the warmth of their skin a beacon of their shared desire.
"Oh, Michael, you're back...!" calls Siesta from the main floor of the shop, interrupting the petite pinkette's fantasy. Louise's heart jumps into her throat.
"Heya, Siesta, is Princess still getting outfitted?" asks Michael from somewhere out on the main shop floor.
Siesta's voice, a gentle melody, echoes through the store. "Not quite, I'm picking out another for her." There's a hint of a playful giggle, and then her footsteps recede into the depths of the shop.
Louise's small, petite hand, coated in her juices, falls away from her damp panties, a shiver of uncertainty running through her petite frame.
Low, smouldering panic rising within her, the pinkette grabs for her discarded school skirt and brings out a handkerchief she always keeps there.
"Hey, Louise," Michael's voice, smooth and relaxed, echoes from beyond the curtain. "Not being too picky, are we?"
Louise, a soft gasp escaping her lips and her heart fluttering like a captured bird, hurriedly wipes the slick evidence of her self-pleasure from her slender, trembling fingers. "I-Idiot...! Don't you dare come in!" she stammers, her voice barely masking her flustered state.
Michael chuckles from the other side of the curtain.
"A sweetheart as always," he remarks, his tone carrying a playful hint of amusement. "Anyway, I picked up pastries from the shop, you know, the one we visited with Montmorency. We can share them on the walk back."
Despite her racing pulse and the lingering heat between her thighs, Louise can't help but find a smile tugging at her lips. The memory of their visit, the famailar's first real interaction with Tristainian society, warms her heart, and she can picture the delicate, jam-filled croissants they ate.
"You're being awfully nice, dummy," she teases, a hint of playfulness creeping into her voice as she slips her handkerchief back into her skirt. Louise's fingers, still tingling with a mixture of arousal and trepidation, close into balled fists.
"Hey, said I'd treat you, didn't I?" comes his response, accompanied by a soft patter of footsteps from just beyond the curtain. Footsteps too gentle to be his.
"Miss Louise, I brought the dress," Siesta chimes warmly, her shadow dancing along the curtain.
"Hey, that looks nice," Michael remarks, humming. "Yeah, I think you'll look lovely in this one, Louise."
The mage's heart leaps in her chest at Michael's casual, almost offhanded compliment. Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of red as she pictures his handsome face, a genuine smile tugging at his lips, those piercing, green eyes of his glinting with admiration.
"Pass it through please, Siesta," Louise asks, feeling the warmth of embarrassment crawling across her small cheeks.
Siesta, responding with a soft hum, gently hands the dress through the curtain's gap.
Louise's petite hands reach out, her fingers brushing against the fabric of the dress Siesta has chosen for her. It's a plain, solid-colour black dress, made of fine, sturdy linen.
The fabric is smooth to the touch, and as Louise runs her hands over it, she can feel the care that went into its construction. The dress is unassuming yet elegant, with a hint of simplicity that Louise finds oddly charming.
"There are some white sandals I found and a lovely beret to match," Siesta adds, a proud undertone to her voice. "I'm passing them through now, okay?"
Louise's small hand, delicate and pale, reaches through the curtain's gap, her fingers curling around the straps of a pair of white, strapped sandals. The beret is soft and smooth to the touch, the colour a perfect match for the simple dress she's about to don.
Louise, feeling the rush of excitement, and with a flicker of anticipation, pulls on the dress, its fabric flowing over her skin. She's a little surprised to find the dress fits her perfectly, as though tailored to her measurements. The cut and style, though modest, flatter her petite form.
The dress, its fabric flowing over her small form like water, accentuates the delicate curve of her hips, the fabric cascading down her slender legs. Louise feels an unexpected sense of confidence surge through her as she slips on the sandals, their soft straps securing around her ankles.
Lastly, the mage delicately places the beret on her head. Its weight, though subtle, feels right. The soft, black material complements the dress beautifully. In this outfit, Louise feels like a different person - still herself, yet somehow freer, less burdened by the weight of nobility that often rests on her shoulders.
With her new clothes securely on, Louise steps out of the changing room and is immediately met by Michael and Siesta. The two stand side-by-side, their eyes widening in admiration at her transformed appearance.
"You look wonderful, Miss Louise!" Siesta practically exclaims, a warm, heartfelt smile stretching across her lips. The genuine joy and admiration in her voice send a rush of warmth through Louise.
Beside the maid, Michael gives a thumbs up, his cheeks tinged the slightest bit red.
"Beautiful, Princess, absolutely beautiful," he says, a faint hint of awe colouring his voice.
The familiar's words, though brief, strike a deep chord within Louise, a flutter of joy and embarrassment coursing through her.
"I-I'm glad you both think so," she utters shyly, her skin flushing amidst their praise. Her fingers play nervously with the fabric of her new skirt as Louise stands in front of her beloved familiar and trusted maid. "This is the one, then, Siesta. We'll take two of this exact outfit, minus the shoes."
Siesta nods.
"And, Siesta... you may treat yourself to a new nightgown if you'd like," the pink-haired noblewoman says, a shy smile upon her lips as she folds her arms behind her back.
At this, Michael's expression lights up with surprise.
"Really?" Siesta questions.
The small girl gives an affirming nod.
"Absolutely."
The maid, a look of genuine delight crossing her features, clasps her hands together, a soft, joyful giggle escaping her. She gives Louise an affectionate squeeze on the arm and then twirls back around to the rack of nightgowns across the room. Her movements are light and graceful, each step resonating with a sense of excitement.
Louise, now alone with Michael, feels her pulse quicken.
The two stand in a comfortable silence for a moment, their attention momentarily captured by Siesta's happy, enthusiastic perusal of the nightwear section. Then, the two's attention drifts toward one another.
"You're being generous today, Louise," Michael notes with a gentle chuckle.
Louise, her cheeks warming under Michael's gaze, huffs. "I can be nice sometimes, you know," she responds, her voice soft, yet firm.
Michael nods, his eyes meeting hers. He then leans close to her ear to whisper.
"Sure can," he murmurs. "And... you really do look great in that dress, you know."
At this, a shiver of warmth courses through Louise. She cannot, however, find the words to respond to the sincere compliment. Instead, the small girl merely kisses Michael's cheek while she is certain no one is looking.
With a blush and a smile, the two watch as Siesta happily selects a white, frilly nightgown.
"Love you, Louise," Michael whispers, his tone immensely sincere nonetheless.
Louise blushes. She then leans up to whisper into Michael's ear.
"...You too... idiot."
...
With Louise's shopping finished and the three now standing outside the shop, the petite mage turns to her familiar and Siesta and heaves a small sigh.
"To think, it's almost sundown already," Louise remarks, casting a glance toward the setting sun in the distance.
Siesta, standing beside the noble girl, nods: The soft light of the late afternoon sun dances across her features. "Time sure flies when you're having fun," the dark-haired maid adds, her voice a jovial hum.
Michael, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, glances at the small paper bag filled with croissants he's carrying. He then looks between Louise and Siesta a couple of times before his green eyes finally settle on his pink-haired mistress.
"That it for the day, Louise?"
The small noble's pink eyes twinkle in response, and she gives a firm, yet soft nod.
"I think so, yes. You can wear your London clothes whilst we undertake Henrietta's mission, so we needn't buy you anything more than you already have."
Michael appears surprised by this, going so far as blinking a couple of times.
"Hold on, you don't mind me wearing the jeans for this?"
"No," the pink-haired mage replies simply. "I do not. We will simply say you found them at a flea market overseas if anybody asks questions."
With that, Michael's surprise fades, replaced by a genuine smile. "Sounds like a plan, Princess," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice as he offers a thumbs up.
Siesta, watching the interaction with a soft smile on her lips, lets out a cheerful giggle. Her blue eyes, filled with warmth and happiness, sparkle in the light of the setting sun.
"...I happen to think Michael's London clothes are rather fetching," the maid murmurs, a hint of playfulness in her voice as her cheeks turn a rosy pink. "They certainly hug him... nicely..."
At this, Michael chuckles. Louise rolls her eyes and huffs.
"And with that, we are returning home, you two."
Michael's laughter echoes in the air as he extends his free hand toward the two women.
"Sounds like a good idea. Shall we, ladies?" he asks, a warm smile on his lips. Siesta takes his hand, her fingers intertwining with his in a soft, affectionate grip.
"No fair, Siesta," Louise half whines. "I command as your mistress that you release Michael at once, I wish to hold his hand."
The dark-haired maid giggles and gently disentangles her fingers from Michael's, her blue eyes filled with a playful, teasing light. Michael however, snatching her hand straight back into his, earns a playful squeak to escape the maid.
"No can do, Louise, Siesta got there first," the familiar remarks with a smirk. His gaze then turns to the petite mage. "I have another hand for you, though... if you hold the pastries."
Louise, her eyes widening, can't help but blush at the familiar's playful yet sincere offer.
The small girl, feeling the heat in her cheeks, gives a soft huff. She then carefully takes Michael's bag of pastries into her delicate hand. Michael, a gentle smile on his lips, extends his hand to her. Louise, feeling the warmth in her chest spreading, slips her hand into his, their fingers intertwining.
"See? No harm done, Princess," the blonde man murmurs reassuringly.
The three begin to walk through the bustling streets, hand in hand.
The setting sun bathes the world in a warm, golden hue. As the trio makes their way, the soft glow of the sky casts long, gentle shadows behind them. The buildings, their windows catching the evening light, shine and sparkle. The world is awash with a sense of warmth and peace, the streets echoing with the sounds of laughter and conversations, creating a symphony that fills the air.
And, for Louise, a day like this is all she could wish for.
Guiche de Gramont sculks through Lenore's backstreets in the dead of night.
Jealousy and anger course through his veins in light of the many humiliations he has faced since the arrival of Louise's familiar into their world.
"I cannot believe it has come to this," the blonde nobleman utters, his feet stalling in front of a dimly lit shopfront that sits in a dingy backstreet of Lenore.
The wooden sign that hangs over the door of the shopfront reads 'Apothecary'.
With a final glance around himself, the boy steps into the shop.
His footsteps echo in the dimly lit store, the air heavy with a myriad of pungent smells.
Guiche's eyes roam the shelves, his gaze settling on a variety of bottles and vials. Each one is meticulously labelled with names he's vaguely familiar with, from common herbs to more exotic ingredients. His breath catches as he notices a jar filled with what looks like a deep, crimson liquid.
"What are you doing here, boy?" calls an elderly, wizened voice from the back of the room. Guiche's head snaps around, his attention drawn to an elderly man with a long, wispy beard. The man's eyes, sharp and piercing, seem to cut through the dim light.
Guiche clears his throat, a hint of unease creeping into his voice. "I'm looking for a love potion," he states, trying to sound more confident than he feels.
The old man's eyebrows arch and a knowing smirk crosses his lips.
"A love potion?" he echoes, his voice a low and thoughtful. "Are you sure that's what you seek?"
Guiche, his fists clenching and unclenching, gives a determined nod.
"Please, good sir, the lady whom I have cherished is all but lost to me," the boy says, a hint of desperation in his voice. His gaze, brimming with longing and frustration, locks onto the old man.
The apothecary, his eyes narrowing, regards Guiche with a look of contemplation.
"Very well," the old man murmurs, his voice a low, solemn hum. He then begins to move around the room, his steps slow and methodical, his hands deftly selecting various bottles and herbs from the shelves.
"Before I do this for you, however, I must know," the old man says, his words measured and deliberate. "Are you sure you're willing to go down this path?"
Guiche, his heart pounding in his chest, gives a firm nod.
"I am."
The apothecary, his expression growing grim, continues to move about the room.
"I'll need a drop of blood," he states, his voice barely above a whisper.
Guiche, without hesitation, extends his hand. The apothecary, his eyes fixed on the noble boy's, gently pricks one of his fingers with a small, silver needle.
As the old man collects a single, crimson droplet of Guiche's blood, he turns his back and begins to work.
"Tell me, young man, what is your name?" the apothecary asks, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room.
"Guiche, Guiche de Gramont."
"Ah, a noble. It all makes sense now," the apothecary responds, a hint of disdain in his voice. "You've finally met a problem money can't fix, eh?"
Guiche, his cheeks burning, can only nod.
"Indeed, I have," the boy murmurs.
With that, the old man's movements grow more fluid and graceful. His hands, weathered and aged, weave a spell-like dance around the various vials and ingredients.
He combines herbs and liquids, and his actions are deliberate and precise. The old man then mutters a few words under his breath, the air around him crackling with an unseen energy. A faint, eerie glow starts emanating from the concoction he's crafting, casting shadows across the room.
"Remember," the old man's voice cuts through the hushed atmosphere, his eyes never leaving his work. "This potion will not create true love; it will only bend the target to your will."
Guiche, his eyes fixed on the old man's every movement, feels a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
"I understand," the boy whispers back, his voice barely audible. "But if this is the only way..."
The elderly man lets out a short, bitter laugh.
"Take the advice of this disgraced noble, boy, it's not worth it," the old man states. "The pain of a broken heart is nothing compared to the guilt of taking someone's free will away from them, especially if it's somebody you truly care about."
Guiche, feeling the weight of the old man's words, falls silent.
He knows, deep down, the old man is right. But the pain and jealousy burning inside him are overwhelming. At this moment, he feels as though he has no other choice.
"...I understand, sir, I do," he says after a while, his voice tinged with regret and determination. "But... it's too late to turn back now. This is something I must do."
With those final words, the old man, his expression a mix of sadness and resignation while he places the finishing touches on his creation.
The potion, now a vibrant shade of deep red, glows in the dim light of the shop. The old man carefully pours the liquid into a small, ornate bottle, his hands trembling slightly with the weight of the act. He then hands the bottle to Guiche, his eyes locking with the blonde noble's.
"Use this wisely, young Gramont, for the consequences of your actions may be far greater than you can imagine," the old man's voice is a low, solemn whisper, his eyes filled with pity.
Guiche, his hand trembling as he takes the potion, nods.
"...I understand," he murmurs, his voice barely audible in the hushed atmosphere of the shop.
"And a word of warning, too," the old man continues, his gaze unwavering. "The effects of this potion are highly contagious. Anyone who comes into contact with it will also become entranced, their hearts and minds becoming swirling pools of lust for the first person they see."
Guiche's eyes widen at this information, the weight of the old man's words sinking in. He swallows hard, his hand tightening around the potion bottle.
With that, the old man motions for him to leave.
"Go, Guiche de Gramont. May the Goddess have mercy on you and the one you intend to ensnare. For this is not the path to happiness: It is the road to pain: A deception... and nothing more."
With a heavy heart, Guiche nods and reaches into the pocket of his cloak.
"...Do you require payment, sir?" he asks.
The old man shakes his head.
"No," he utters, "for I have been where you are. I've done the things you're about to do. My punishment is living with that for the rest of my life."
Guiche, trembling at this stage, forces himself to stand tall and hold his ground.
"Y-You make it sound as though this concoction will bring nought but ruin..."
"Because it will," the old man warms after a wheevy cough. "And, worse still, if used in excess, it will onl amplify whatever true feelings a person holds for the one who ensnares them once it wears off."
At this, the blonde noble feels a chill run down his spine. His fingers, still wrapped around the potion bottle, shudder ever-so-slightly. He takes a deep breath and then looks the old man squarely in the eye.
"Meaning that-" Guiche begins.
"Meaning, young man," the old man interrupts, his voice low and solemn, "that if the girl you intend to use this on does not have feelings for you, she will loathe you once the effects wear off. And the same in reverse, for whomever uses it, and whomever they use it on. Are you dense, boy?"
Guiche feels his heart sink at the old man's words. The weight of the potion in his hand seems to grow heavier with every passing moment, and he can't help but wonder if he's making a terrible mistake.
"N-No, I'm not, I simply desire that which is rightfully mine...!" the boy insists, his voice barely a whisper.
The old man's face is set into a grimace. He turns and waves Guiche away, a look of deep sadness and resignation etched into the wrinkles around his eyes.
"Then go, and may the Goddess forgive you..."
With a final glance at the old man, Guiche turns and leaves the apothecary. The potion, a small yet powerful object, sits in his palm, its potential consequences weighing heavily on his mind.
"...My darling Montmorency, I can only pray that deep down you still love me..."
To be continued...
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