Adventures of a Curious Bard

All stories in this series are standalone, but this one ended up being long so I've split it into two parts. If you enjoy this, please leave a comment and let me know what was the best part, and if you want part two!

There are forty-two buttons on a standard Cortesian petticoat.

Temora had not known this before she had followed the countess up to her bedroom, but she was finding it out now. After she had stripped the silk ballgown from the woman's shoulders, and the countess had done the same with her colorful minstrel's tunic, the two women lay for a while on the bed, kissing and running their hands over each other's bodies, clad in only their undergarments.

Temora wore a simple silk thong around her shapely brown-skinned hips and between the globes of her derriere, and a wrap around her perky breasts. The countess wore a green petticoat with the aforementioned forty-two buttons. She was a plump woman, and the petticoat clung to her sizable bosom and thick thighs. Temora began to work the buttons.

The countess pulled at Temora's lips with her teeth, giggling girlishly. She was a pale woman with merry brown eyes and merrier jowls. "Each button is unique, you see. Some from family, some from friends, some from my husband... and some from lovers," she whispered, nibbling at Temora's ear. Her hand stroked through the shaggy dark locks of the bard's hair.

The bard groaned and twisted her fingers around the large brass buttons, her grey eyes flicking down to the designs. Most were esoteric, and some were of beasts she did not know. Creatures from the strange island of Cortesia, she imagined, the place where she wished to go. For she had sought out the countess in this trading town, knowing that if she could perhaps get into the woman's good graces, she could hitch a ride to Cortesia.

Well, she had hoped to use her musical gifts to secure passage, but she was also very gifted in other areas as well.

She worked her way down the buttons, and the countess often interjected to tell her stories about various ones. "That was from the Duke of Bellazan, when I was a young girl," she said, in between sharp nips of her teeth on Temora's neck. "God, he had a pretty cock. I must have swallowed enough of his cum to fill my fat belly three times over."

Temora snorted, amused as she finally managed to pop the countess's breasts out of their confinement. She preferred women, but had enjoyed the occasional foray into sword swallowing, and certainly related to the feeling. But for now, her attention was focused on the heaving treats before her, pale breasts with pink, puffy nipples twitching tantalizingly at her.

She lowered her mouth and began to suckle.

The countess groaned, her back arching. The petticoat was around her waist now, and Temora was working on the buttons around her wide hips. Her tongue flicked over the sensitive nubs, teasing and tasting. The countess was a heavy woman, and her breasts were likewise hefty. She had milked the duke, had she? Well, how about a minstrel?

She pulled the nipple from her mouth and blew, her eyes meeting the countess. Then she smiled, and lowered her head to the countess's left breast. Her mouth began to suckle, drawing a gasp from the woman.

The countess giggled. "Oh, naughty girl." She laid a hand on Temora's as the bard made to undo further buttons, teeth biting the younger woman's ear in rebuke. "We'll stop at seven buttons tonight, pretty one. My husband wants to mount me tomorrow, and I feel ever so shameful if I come to him with a stranger's breath still hot on my cunt."

Temora shrugged, and nipped down on the countess's left nipple hard, eliciting a shriek of pained pleasure from the older woman. She didn't particularly care if she wasn't going to bury her head between the woman's lugubrious thighs tonight. All she had to do was put on a good enough performance that the countess would take her home with her, as her little plaything.

Her tongue began to dance upon the great hills of the countess's breasts, her teeth playing the part of the rapscallion as she buried her head in the valley. All the while, the countess groaned and panted heavily, her voice trilling as her fingers unwrapped the cloth tied over Temora's breasts.

Temora turned herself over so her breasts now lay over the countess's face. A groan ripped from her lips as the woman returned the favor, sucking on Temora's right breast, teasing the nipple into her warm, thick-lipped mouth. The room grew quiet for a while, but for the sounds their suckling and licking, punctuated by moans and cries of desperation.

Temora's fingers began to scratch patterns across the countess's breasts, drawing magical runes she had learned from her teacher, the Pleasure Keeper. As the runes glowed upon those massive breasts, she began to use her tongue to trace across the patterns. She whined as the countess's sharp teeth tugged at her left nipple, her big, strong hands squeezing Temora's breasts viciously.

"Oh my... they said you were gifted, but I never expected this," the countess exclaimed, Temora's nipple releasing from her mouth with a pop. "I didn't think I would... oh... oh!" she cried out, her orgasm taking her by surprise. The older woman's back arched and she let out a sharp, hissing gasp, her thick ankles slapping against the mattress. The air grew rich with the smell of cunt, and Temora looked down to see the gush that had stained the still-buttoned lower half of her petticoat.

Pleased with herself, she laid her head down upon the countess's ample bosom, quite comfortable as the woman continued to idly fondle her own, more modest breasts.

"Perhaps... we would need to be discreet," the older woman murmured, "but perhaps you might enjoy traveling with me and my husband to Cortesia?"

Temora grinned against the countess's tits. "Nothing would please me more. And by the way, I spent time with the dwarves. I could forge you a new button. And if your husband disapproves," she said, raising her head and gasping as the countess pinched her nipples, "I think we could put on a little performance for him. Sway him to our side."

The countess's lips parted into a lustful grin. "Oh, you really are a naughty girl."

#

#

On that journey, Temora memorized every single one of the countess's forty two buttons, and the story behind each one. She grew quite familiar with the taste of the older woman's cunt, as well, and the smell of her richly forested mons. She especially enjoyed the evenings when the woman's heaving, flabby buttocks sat upon her face and all she could do was breath in the countess's musky aroma, as her tongue drove from clitoris to asshole, back and forth, back and forth, like a relentless machine.

It was a fine way to travel. It turned out her husband was actually quite possessive, and did not know the real stories behind the countess's many buttons. So Temora played merely the part of the entertaining bard, and did so quite well. While many men did tend to find her quite seductive and charming, including the captain of the trading vessel, Temora also sensed the countess would be displeased if she fraternized with anyone else on the journey.

So she played her songs, and when the countess summoned, she strummed a different instrument altogether.

It was quite a new experience for Temora to make love to such a large woman.

The first time she had removed the forty-second button, all she could do was gape at the sight of the countess in all her glory. The woman lay back on their bed, giggling and twitching, her thighs quivering with anticipation as the bard slid down the petticoat. Her pussy was a verdant thicket, with dark red lips peeking out from between her thighs, a veritable jungle of hair that made Temora quite wet in the mouth just thinking about tasting it. She pulled the petticoat all the way down to the countess's ankles and began to kiss up her legs, her tongue trailing over the older woman's thick thighs.

She had never seen such a well-padded woman, not even among the dwarves. The countess was as soft as the cushions of the dwarflady Yalid's bed, and Temora soon got lost amongst her curves.

In the cramped and crowded confines of a trading vessel, they had to be innovative in their escapades, but each fuck was more thrilling than the last.

They fucked on the floor of her cabin, a blanket beneath them. The countess was on her knees, her massive ass raised in the air as Temora knelt behind her, fingers digging into the woman's doughy flesh as she rammed her fingers deep into the countess's cunt. She shoved her face between the huge globes of the older woman's ass, her tongue lapping at the sweaty pucker of the woman's asshole. The countess's arousal splattered over her face and onto the blanket, filling the room with the smell of cunt.

They fucked on Temora's bed, with the countess on her back, her huge breasts bouncing as Temora rode atop her. A stap on dildo slid in and out of the countess, glistening with the older woman's fluids. The bard's hips rocked back and forth, and the countess groaned in pleasure, her mouth hanging open as her fingers dug into the blankets.

They fucked in a large wooden tub that could easily fit both of them. Temora sat atop the countess, her legs wrapped around the woman's waist as she fucked herself silly upon the dildo. The water splashed around them, as the countess squeezed her breasts and nibbled at her nipples. Her own bouncing, massive mammaries flopped over the water as her big pale thighs quivered where they hung over the edges of the tub.

They fucked in the countess's cabin, with Temora bent over the bed while the countess took her from behind. Her hands were tied behind her back and the countess's great weight bore down on her, driving the dildo into her aching cunt with ruthless abandon. The older woman's teeth bit down on Temora's shoulder, and she screamed in pleasure.

They fucked on the deck of the ship, one night when the captain had disappeared and the rest of the crew slept. Temora bent the countess over the railing, and took her from behind, her hips pumping hard against the woman's ass. The tang of salty sea air mixed with the countess's perfume, and the sweat and arousal of their humping bodies. The countess was so large, and Temora was not especially tall herself, so the countess's enormous, quivering buttocks enveloped half of Temora's body. The two of them were covered in glowing runes of pleasure, which writhed and shifted as they fucked and moaned and panted their way to climax.

By the time they reached Cortesia, Temora knew every inch of the countess's skin, every fold of flesh, and every freckle and stray hair. She could recite the forty-two buttons of her petticoat from memory, and unfasten them in under a minute.

"I take your leave, countess," Temora said, curtsying as the countess disembarked from the boat. "Thank you for this," she said, tapping the letter of introduction. It was her ticket into the royal court.

"Oh, the pleasure was mine," the countess simpered, waving a fan at the bard. It was hot in Cortesia, summer fully developed. "Now, be warned, there are many ladies who will want to devour you at the court. You should choose wisely when you pick a patron. Though I doubt any will compare to me." She tittered, pleased with herself.

"Where will you and your husband go?" Temora said, grinning.

"Back to our country estate. It's so dull, but I do have a lover there to keep me company. Button thirty-one, if you'll recall" She giggled as her merry brown eyes surveyed Temora's body one last time. "I suspect you'll get embroiled in politics. That shit bores me, truly. I much prefer being a reclusive fat lady who enjoys a good fuck. So long, Temora Honeytongue. Or should I say, new button thirty-five." She gave a girlish wave and a matching giggle, then proceeded towards the palanquin that would bear her away.

Temora felt that strange tug of wistfulness she always felt when a lover departed, but it was soon replaced by a new purpose. She needed the patronage of the King of Cortesia, if she was ever to achieve her greater goals.

And whether by music, magic, or her myriad other talents, she would get one.

#

#

Cortesia was a strange island, to a northerner like her. It was unlike any of the many places she had traveled in her years as a bard. There were no horses or oxen or the usual beasts of burden, and though the summer heat swelled and shifted upon the island, rain and clouds came often enough that it was not as overwhelming as summers in her hot, dry homeland. The creatures here were strange, skeletal birds sweeping through the sky, and instead of dogs, the villagers kept curious, large rodents that shrieked and scattered dust behind them when strangers came through.

She made her way and earned bed and supper by playing her flute and dancing for the entranced villagers. They knew her for an outsider immediately by her brown skin and grey eyes, unheard of in this land, as well as her breeches and leather coat. Leather was a rare imported luxury in Cortesia, as they had no deer or oxen, and so the villagers thought her a noble foreigner, on some exotic quest.

In some way, Temora supposed, she was.

While the port city she had arrived in was the largest settlement on the island nation, the royal court was settled in a hilly region upon the northern shore of the island. It was hotter and dryer here, and stone-like cacti rose in eerie stands as she approached the royal town of Corta. Corta was not much to look at from a distance. The sandy road that led to the cliffside settlement was little traveled, save for merchants who supplied the nobles of the court.

She rode with some, who were all greatly surprised that she was going there.

"Oh, they never let outsiders or commoners in, miss bard," a kindly old wineseller told her as they trundled down the road. "Save for a few of our allied nobles, who stay there from time to time."

"I have a letter of introduction," Temora said, her sharp grey eyes watching the road hawkishly. Though the land itself was spectral and magical, the beasts unusual, magic was quite rare among the Cortesian peasantry. It was supposedly concentrated only amongst the nobles, though the countess had lamented that she had no talent for it. "From a noblewoman."

"Begging pardon, miss, but my wines are sold to all the nobles in our fair home," the merchant said, eyebrows raised. "Who would it be?"

Temora eyed him cautiously, but saw no malice in him. "The Countess Ula of Chinre."

His eyes widened. "The Countess? She hasn't been to the court in years. I heard she was on diplomatic affairs on the continent."

"That's where I met her," Temora said. There was something knowing, mischievous in the man's eyes, that caused her to blush tellingly. "Anyway, she thought highly enough of me as a bard that she wrote me a letter of introduction."

The merchant grinned. "In all the years I've sold the Countess wine, I've never known her to be a patron of the arts. Of the courtesans and brothels, however..."

Temora glared at him and took out her flute. "Listen, old man, and be shamed."

She played him into an awed silence, followed by applause. "Oh, you are good! I haven't heard good continental music in a while. You'll surely be loved at court. If you get past the Ledgerwoman."

"The Ledgerwoman?" Temora said, frowning as they approached the low, white walls of Corta. "Who's she?"

"You'll see, soon enough."

#

#

The merchants sold their wares at the gate to the quartermaster and his servants, and Temora dismounted, approaching the gatehouse. It was a simple thing, but the city wall was elegantly constructed, with little of the scarring and stitched masonry common to many of the other cities she'd been to. Corta had seen little of war, perhaps because Jeyn, the seaport, was the real prize of Cortesia.

The gatekeeper was a tall, wiry man in his forties, with a bristling mustache. "No entry to foreigners," he grunted.

"I have a letter," Temora said, handing it to him. "It has the seal of the Countess of Chinre."

He glanced down at it, his brown furrowed. "I ain't seen her seal in a long time. Seems dodgy."

"I assure you, I received it from her directly. I sailed with her and her husband to Jeyn, not more than four days ago. They have returned to their estate in Chinre."

He shrugged. "I can't read, anyhow. You'll need to see the Ledgerwoman." He smirked. "But if I were you, I'd head back to Jeyn. She hasn't let an outsider into the court in years."

Temora sighed, irritated. She needed to get into the court, and she needed to gain the favor of the King. This was all such a waste of time. "Just take me to her."

"Down there," he said, pointing to a small cottage just a little past the merchant's depot. "It's almost sundown, so she's already home for the evening. She's a bit cranky, so I suggest you mind your manners." His eyes gleamed with amusement that Temora found annoying, so she turned and huffily walked down to the old cottage, letter in hand.

She rapped on the door in what she hoped was a firm, but polite fashion. A few moments later it opened. Standing there in the reddish hue of sunset was a woman who appeared to be in her sixties, with grey streaked, dark hair piled up in an elegant, coiffed Cortesian bun. She was dressed in a stylish long sleeved blouse and the flowing skirts common among ladies of moderate status in this country. Her jaw was sharp and her pale face pinched tight as she surveyed Temora, staring down at her with sharp brown eyes.

The Cortesians, Temora had found, were a tall people.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"I am Temora Honeytongue of the Northlands. I come with a letter of introduction from the Countess Ula of Chinre, seeking a post in the royal court."

The woman looked her over dismissively, the wrinkled cut of her cleavage wafting lavender into Temora's nostrils. "Countess Ula is abroad."

"She has returned," Temora said, exasperated as she shoved the letter into the Ledgerwoman's hand. "It's her seal. Read it and you'll see."

The older woman scowled, and Temora thought that perhaps she'd have aged better if she wasn't so sour. But she took the letter, glanced at the seal, then pulled it open. She read it quickly, then tucked it into her waist satchel.

"How do I know you're really Temora Honeytongue, and not some cutthroat who took the letter?"

Temora sighed. The Countess had warned her this might happen. She reached into her bag and pulled out a brass button. It had once been the thirty-fifth button on the countess's petticoat, but the countess now wore a new button, gifted by Temora. This button had a design of one of the strange guard rodents of Cortesia, but on the back was etched the countess's seal.

The Ledgerwoman took it and nodded appraisingly. "I see. Come in."

Surprised by the change in tone, Temora entered the modest but well-decorated house. It had all the homeliness of a family woman's house, but no family. A painting of the woman, younger, with a man beside her, hung over the fireplace, above which a teapot and stewpot bubbled.

She noticed Temora looking as she poured tea. "My late husband," she muttered. "Not that it concerns you."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Temora said sincerely. Maybe that was why this woman was such a grouch. "Do you stay here alone now?" She accepted the cup of tea offered her as she sat at the small table in the kitchen.

"For a few years now. My two daughters got married and moved to Jeyn, and my son joined the Navy. So I don't see them very often." Her eyes grew wistful for a moment, before regaining their hardness. She slid the button back across the table to Temora, then took a long sip of tea. "So, tell me, Bard Honeytongue, how can I help you?"