Chapter Thirty Two: Measurements...
"Ah, here we are," Zarra spoke up with a delighted smile even as the carriage they were in came to a stop.
As it turns out, the one that had been at the door when the blonde thief did her disappearing act, wasn't this woman. Instead, she had sent one of the younger manservants to deliver the clothes Greg would be wearing. Greg had smiled and thanked the man, all of which was politely acknowledged by him. Any attempt to get any information out of him about Zarra or her husband, however, was met with a wall of silence. The guy didn't become mad, annoyed, or hostile in any way, he just simply wouldn't speak. When Greg asked about anything else that didn't involve the family, the servant would politely answer, but anything even tangentially about the family, and he would turn silent as a statue. In the end, Greg had worn the clean clothes brought to him and allowed himself to be led to the front of the house where Zarra had been waiting for him by the carriage.
The carriage drew to a stop and Greg was first to alight. Moving around to the other side of the carriage, he pulled open the door for Zarra. Greg held out a hand to her which she received as she stepped down. Because they were in public, Zarra maintained a calm, elegant air, not showing much expression. Greg, however, could see the joy in her eyes and the slight color that tinged her cheeks. Apparently, while servants were expected to do most things for their employers, the idea of having one's door held open for them wasn't among the things expected of a servant. When Greg had suggested doing it for her, Zarra had been skeptical. Looking at her right now as she fought off a blush and a smile, trying her best to appear nonchalant, Greg knew that she liked it.
Fein's Finest Fabrics.
That's what the sign above the building read. The two of them walked into the building just in time to see a man of a tall and slender frame come out from the back office with a woman beside him. There was nothing lewd or raunchy about the scene. From what little glimpse Greg had caught of the room behind them, it was clear that they had been working. Behind them, an attendant came out and moved to join the two other attendants in the store. From the look of it, when the attendants had caught sight of their arrival, one of them had scurried off to inform the owner.
"Madam Zarra," The man called out with such delight you might have thought that she was his long-lost daughter. "To what does my shop owe the pleasure of your radiance this morning," he gushed. Greg had to give it to the guy, he had one slick tongue. Before they even knew what was going on, they had been ushered into a side room where Madam Zarra was urged to have a seat and given a few refreshments while Greg stood beside her as her manservant. Meanwhile, the man continued to keep the charm at eleven, every second statement rolling off with a casually inserted complement to Zarra. And from the way she was smiling, it was clear she was eating it up.
Despite the question being asked at the outset of the conversation, ten minutes of the two talking passed before Zarra got around to why they were there. By this time, Greg had picked up on a few things. The first is that the man was the owner of the store and the woman at his side was his wife. While he was the owner, they helped each other in the work. From their talk, Greg also learned that this store only served the highest echelons of society. As a result, the guy seemed to be aware of a lot of the on-goings in the noble circles. He didn't share anything that might harm anyone's reputation, but Greg could see in him the sharp look of someone that knew more than he was letting on.
The only flaw that Greg noticed about the man, was the slight air of snootiness about him. From the moment they'd stepped into the shop, he'd acted like Greg was completely invisible. Forget acknowledgment, the man had barely even glanced his way from the moment he stepped into the shop. In fact, the only time Greg had noticed his mask of geniality slip a little was when Zarra told him why they were there. Being the informed man that he was, the man knew about the dinner the Mayor was planning to have. He assumed that the woman had come in last minute for one of his dresses. When he learned that she instead wanted him to fashion a uniform for Greg, the man looked at Greg like he was a fly that had landed in his food. Part of Greg understood his thinking. One of his dresses being worn to the dinner party by the already attractive Zarra, would draw a lot of attention to his store. None of the nobles, however, would be bothered to learn where a servant got their uniform. Still, this didn't make the man any less of an asshole in Greg's mind.
Despite his displeasure, however, there was no way the tailor could decline Zarra's request without offending the merchant's wife. Given the stature of the one making the request, he also couldn't offload it to one of his attendants as it wouldn't show the due regard that Zarra commanded. As such, he did the next closest thing to ignoring Greg, he set his wife to the task. "Dear, would you be so kind as to take the young man's measurements?" The words were a question, but the tone of his voice made it quite clear that there wasn't really a choice to be had in the issue. And while the words employed were polite, there was none of the effusive warmth that he'd directed towards Zarra. Once the instructions were given, the man once again ignored Greg's very existence and continued to talk with Zarra
Despite his increasing dislike of the man, Greg smiled at the wife when it became clear that she would be the one he'd be working with. Much to Greg's surprise, there was a bright blush that spread across the woman's face at his gaze before she turned away and meekly indicated for him to follow. If the two beside them had been even a bit more attentive, they'd have noticed the odd reaction from the woman. They, however, were too absorbed in their talks to catch anything. Had this been the first time he'd seen this kind of reaction, Greg would have been confused. However, in the real world, Greg had just finished an event where most women had been giving him this very same look.
Greg had to exercise a lot of self-control to keep his expression natural and prevent his eyes from going wide. With the dungeon restricting the use of any of the external items Greg had come to rely on, he had simply assumed he had no powers to bring to bear in this arena. It now occurred to Greg that he might have become a bit over-reliant on magical items. How else could he have forgotten that not all the titles he had were dependent on the items? After cashing in his first feat of lust, Greg had bought the innate title of AROUSING from the system. The first rule had been quite clear that only innate abilities could be carried over into the dungeon. And given the fact that the title was attached to him directly and not through an item, this single title was still active even within the dungeon!
Greg knew that the chase he'd been part of all morning was partly to blame for the fact that he hadn't picked up on the title's presence sooner. Another part of him, however, was reprimanding him for forgetting a crucial detail such as what abilities he had. It was his great fortune that this had happened inside a dungeon where death wasn't permanent. In the real world, there were no take-backs. He couldn't have a do-over just because he made a stupid mistake. This was a mistake that Greg wouldn't allow himself to make a second time! Greg couldn't help but mentally review everything he had available to him even as he followed the tailor's wife.
The two of them came to a stop on the other side of the room. From the way they were seated, Zarra could see the two of them at a glance. The woman's husband, however, had his back to them and all his attention focused on the woman before him, completely disregarding what was going on behind him. By the time they came to a stop, the woman seemed to have gathered enough courage to begin her work. "Hold out your hands, please," she instructed. Greg smiled and did as instructed not hiding the desire in his eyes as he let his eyes roam over the woman's body.
"Your husband is a fool," Greg spoke up only loud enough to be heard by the woman before him. The woman's gaze flicked from the measuring line she was using to regard Greg. Still, Greg didn't continue directly. Instead, he watched her with an easy smile. Just as her initial surprise was about to turn to offense, he continued. "If I had a woman like you by my side, I don't think I'd ever be willing to let you out of my sight," He said. Had she been sober-minded in that moment, she probably would have come to her husband's defense. The bright pink that spread across her face, however, told Greg that she was like a fly caught in his web. Her loyalty to her husband was fighting against the arousal she was probably feeling in that moment. And given the way she was biting her lower lip, Greg could tell that her loyalty was losing the fight.
"Look at him," Greg continued, glancing over to where The tailor was laughing with his employer. "He has such a beautiful woman at his side and all his attention is taken away the moment another one steps into the shop," He spoke. Greg knew perfectly well the importance of getting to know one's clientele and making them feel welcome in one's business. He, however, also knew just how competitive women can be with one another. Despite his snootiness, the husband was doing the right thing by trying to get Zarra to feel as welcome to his establishment as much as possible. That, however, wasn't what Greg whispered in the woman's ear. "We both know that you look much better than her," Greg whispered in her ear even as she turned and looked over in her husband's direction. Greg still held out the hand that she had begun to measure. His other hand, however, slowly roamed over the small of her back. Greg could feel the shiver that coursed through her body even as he pulled her close.
"S… stop, please," The woman made no move to push him off or resist his advances. She knew, just as well as he knew, that she was at his mercy. Her resistance to him had been completely eroded and if he played his cards right, he could take this woman right here.
Greg, however, relented and let go. "Forgive me," he offered in a tone that wasn't the least bit apologetic. "I just couldn't help myself," He added. "It's all your fault for being too alluring," He complimented with a roguish smile.
The woman rolled her eyes at him but couldn't fight off the smile that was playing on her lips. She took a number of measurements. The length of his arm, shoulder to wrist. The circumference at his bicep, his forearm, and his wrist. She then turned to a desk that was nearby and started to scribble on it the results she had gotten so far. Greg noticed her pause when she felt his hands land on her delectable derrière. Her ass was nowhere as round as that of Zarra. She, however, was by no means lacking in that department either. Greg couldn't help his smile widening when he felt her subtly push back into his hands even as she continued to write. She was wordlessly encouraging him to go on exploring her body.
Greg's gaze turned in the direction of Zarra and the tailor to ensure that nothing was out of place. Part of him wanted to freeze up when his eyes met with Zarra's. She had glanced in their direction, and from the look in her eyes, she clearly had seen what he was doing. A more daring side of him, however, was unwilling to be cowed by her. And so, he just smiled as he continued to run his hands over the woman bending over before him. Without her facial expression giving anything away, Zarra turned back to the man before him and continued to laugh at whatever joke he seemed to have cracked.
When the woman rose to take more measurements, her face had gone completely pink. She, however, was smiling even as she stepped closer and pressed her generous bust against his firm chest. "Hold out your hands," She quietly instructed. Once Greg had complied, the woman brought her line around from Greg's back to meet at the front of his chest to get the measure. She repeated the same at the level of his navel and once more at his waist. With her gaze angled down towards the line, it was impossible for her not to notice the large bulge outlined in his pants and from the way she bit her lower lip, Greg could tell she liked what she saw.
As she turned around to write on the piece of paper, Greg couldn't help a sharp intake of air as he felt her grind her ass against him. With his dick already struggling against the fabric of his pants, the added pressure from her luscious mounds left him fighting the urge to just tear off her dress and ravage her right there. Looking over once again to see if they were still safe, Greg found that the tailor had never once looked their way. Zarra, however, was looking directly at him even as Greg grabbed hold of the woman's hips and ground his dick even harder against the tailor's wife's ass.
Part of Greg knew that he was playing with fire. All Zarra would have to do is alert the tailor to what was going on behind him and this would turn into a shit show. For whatever reason, however, a part of him was certain that the woman wouldn't tell on him. Perhaps it was the look in her eyes as she regarded him. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a mark of her rebellion against her husband's overbearingness. Perhaps it was just him being stupid, but even as they looked into each other's eyes while he was grinding on another man's wife, Greg knew that she had his back. That she would keep the tailor distracted for however long he needed her to.
Greg noticed that the tailor's wife stayed bent over a bit longer than would have been necessary to write down just three figures on the piece of paper. Not that he was complaining. Still, the woman had to get up eventually. The woman looked up at him and Greg could swear on everything that he loved that he had never seen a more sexually-charged stare from someone. The woman slowly lowered herself till she had one knee on the floor and her face was at the same level as his bulging crotch. There was less than three inches of space between her beautiful face and his painfully hard cock. When her hands reached up towards the waist of his pants, Greg was almost certain that she was about to pull down his pants and blow him right there and then. There was, however, a glint of mischief in her eyes as she pressed down one end of the measuring line against his waist and used her other hand to keep it pressed against his leg even as she measured the distance from his waist to his ankles.
All along, the woman had kept those wickedly alluring eyes fixed on him. Those eyes not only tempted but also dared him to do something. Before the thought even fully took form in his head, Greg's hands were already moving. There was a moment of panic on the woman's face when she noted what Greg was doing. It was almost like all they had been doing so far was a game of temptations and insinuations. As she felt Greg's massive cock land on her upturned face, however, they crossed that invisible line and moved from a little naughty flirting into dangerous sexual territory. His large, pendulous balls were resting on her chin, meanwhile, his shaft ran all the way up the length of her face and into her hair. His deep masculine musk flooded her olfactory senses and in a primal way, stoked the blazing fire of need that had been consuming her ever since the young man had walked into their establishment.
There was no room for further thought. Without hesitation or even having to compel herself to do so, the woman opened her mouth, leaned forward, and took the young man's balls into her mouth. As she kept on looking up at the young man before him, never in her life had she felt that she was right where she wanted to be more than in this moment. Here, on her knees, her tongue lovingly caressing and worshiping this young man's balls. Worshipping the masculine essence that just seemed to ooze from him. A small part of her brain was aware of the fact that this young man seemed to be having an unnatural effect on her. The rest of her was not only happy for it, it positively craved it. Like a moth drawn in by a flame, she knew what she was doing was dangerous. That she could upend her entire life if her husband just turned around and saw what she was doing. But just like the heat from the flames never deterred the moth, the risk she was in somehow couldn't break through the hold that this young man before him seemed to have had on her.
Completely giving herself over to the mounting lust that this young man evoked in her, the woman began to leave a trail of kisses from the base of his cock towards the head. There was equal parts lust and reverence in her actions. There was just something about the young man that had connected to the deepest parts of her and drawn an almost aching need that no other man had ever come even close to. She wasn't just pleasuring him, she was thanking him. She was making sure that he understood just how much she appreciated him for the fire that he seemed to have lit within her.
Greg had to fight back the urge to moan as he felt the velvety warmth of the tailor's wife's mouth envelope the bulbous head of his dick. Greg could feel the woman's tongue as it licked all over his sensitive head, paying particular attention to the underside of it. Waves of pleasure were coursing through his whole body, making him weak in the knees even as she began to suck earnestly on his dick like it was the sweetest lollipop in the world. It took everything within Greg to keep from just grabbing the woman and forcing his dick all the way down her throat. Given the lusty way she was looking at him, she'd probably let him do it. Given the size of his cock, however, there was no way it would pass through her throat without her gagging on it. Neither one of them could afford to have their activities overheard by the tailor. As such, Greg settled for having his cock shallowly sucked, licked, and French kissed like a long-lost lover.
Meanwhile, there was a loud burst of laughter from the other side of the room as the tailor continued to try and regale Zarra with every amusing and interesting topic that he could find. The woman did her best to keep the tailor focused on her and from what Greg could tell, it was working. Still, he couldn't help a bit of concern as he noticed that she was looking in their direction a little more frequently than she previously was. Her gaze kept shifting between the man before her and his wife, kneeling on the ground before Greg, lovingly worshiping his cock. Even without the ring of discernment, Greg could tell by the subtle way that Zarra was rubbing her legs together that she too was turned on. Greg could see it in her eyes that she was fascinated by what she saw. And whether she admitted it to herself or not, she wanted it… badly.
Eventually, the sensations that Greg had been riding began to build towards a crescendo. Greg felt his balls tighten even as the first blast of his cum shot straight down the woman's gullet. Greg expected the woman to recoil either from shock or dislike of the taste. He, however, was pleasantly surprised when she wrapped her lips around the head of his dick like a vacuum seal and began to suck on it. Her tongue lovingly teased and coaxed every bit of seed that she could out of him. Blast after blast went into the woman's mouth and by the motion of her throat Greg could see that she was determined not to lose even a single drop. By the time Greg's orgasm started to peter out, the woman's cheeks were bulging a bit. Still, she kept lovingly licking and caressing the head of his cock with her tongue.
Despite having just busted hard in the woman's mouth, Greg was still hard as a steel pole. Still, he knew that they would be risking far too much if they decided to start round two. As such, reluctantly, he had to force his unyielding Kraken back into the depths of his pants. The woman wasn't helping as she lovingly caressed the bulge. She even planted a kiss on it a time or two. Eventually, Greg's whispered admonitions made the smiling woman turn her attention back to the task at hand, Once again, she went back to taking his measurements, cheekily always choosing the side his dick was bulging out off. Once again, she measured the length from his waist to his ankle. Then looped the measuring line around the thigh against which his dick was resting. She then went down to his calf and finally around his ankle.
When Zarra had glanced a bit too many times behind his back, the tailor hazarded a look behind his back to find his wife going over the measurements with the servant. Part of him was annoyed that she was even wasting time to explain anything to the servant. All these years and she hadn't learned anything from him. It wasn't the servants that mattered but the ones with the large purses. The servants may smile and laugh with you but unless their employers bought something the friendliness of the servants amounted to nothing. The tailor couldn't help but snort dismissively, though not loud enough to be heard by the woman across from him. His wife still didn't have any of the business acumen that he did. The tailor was convinced that if not for him, the business would have already gone under. Turning back around, the tailor continued to speak, trying to draw the client's attention away from his inept wife and back onto himself.
As soon as the tailor had turned back around, Greg grabbed his wife by the waist and pulled her into a tight embrace, their lips locking in a hot steamy kiss while his hands roamed over her generous curves. It was only after a minute of this that they each separated and walked back to where the other two were seated…
***
"You are either really brave or really stupid," Zarra stated once they were back in the carriage. With his measurements taken, the tailor promised to have the uniform delivered to Zarra's house by evening. As such, they were now on the way back home.
"One doesn't necessarily exclude the other," Greg calmly replied without the slightest hint of shame.
Zarra regarded him for a while before speaking. "You were willing to take that man's wife right there behind him, right under his nose!" She said, unconsciously biting on her lower lip in a manner that left Greg with stirrings in his loins.
"I got the impression that her husband isn't paying her as much attention as he should," Greg replied looking deep into the woman's eyes. "I only sought to remedy this great injustice," He declared. "To remind her of just how desirable and wanted she could be," He went on.
"But… but he will kill you," She said her voice dropping to a whisper.
Greg could tell that the lines were blurring in her mind. She hadn't said it out loud, but in her mind, the conversation had shifted from the tailor and his wife to her and her husband. "Death doesn't scare me," Greg said. Quietly, he left out the fact that the reason he wasn't afraid of death was because, in this dungeon, it wouldn't mean the permanent end of him. "To have never lived is what I truly fear," He said. Zarra's eyes turn to her knee as she felt Greg place a hand there. "No woman," Greg spoke as he used the fingers of the hand still on her knee to slowly pull up the hem of her saree-like dress. "Should ever be made to feel unwanted or undesirable," he said bringing his face dangerously close to hers. "Especially by the man they are supposed to spend their whole life with," He continued just as the hem of her dress rose above her knees. Greg could feel a shiver run through her as his hand disappeared under her dress and started to glide up her thigh.
"S… stop!" For the second time that day, a woman caught in his allure begged. "I… I am a married woman!" she weakly protested. But even as she did, Greg could feel her legs parting even wider to give him greater access. "You brute," She moaned even as his fingers came in contact with her plump, already sopping wet, labia. "You are taking advantage of me," She said even as she ground her hips forward when his thumb found her clitoris.
"And there's nothing you can do about it," Greg declared even as he allowed his fingers to sink into her depths. He could already see the game the woman was playing. She wanted to give in completely to the burning desire within her. At the same time, however, a part of her was still apprehensive about the whole thing. To get around the whole issue, her mind had chosen to label him as the initiator even though she wanted this just as much as he did. Not averse to roleplay, Greg had chosen to take on the role she was unconsciously assigning him. He'd take on all the responsibility she was trying to absolve herself of. He'd be the bad guy and she would be the hapless damsel in distress unable to fend off the big bad wolf.
"Oooh god, you monster," The woman called out even as she continued to moan and gyrate her hips so she could fuck herself on his fingers.
Meanwhile, Greg leaned close to her ear and began to whisper all the sweet nothings that she wanted to hear. "I'm going to tie you up, spread your legs and fuck you like you've never been before. Your husband can't stop me, and neither can you," He declared. "You may think that you are in charge, but we both know who's really in control here!" He declared authoritatively. "Whenever I want, wherever I want, I will take you! I will make you mine! He growled. "Make peace with that idea because you can't stop it! You are in my hands and no one's coming to save you," He declared. Greg could feel her pussy grow wetter and wetter the more he told her that she was no longer in control. It was almost like he was giving her permission to let herself be taken over by the lust overflowing in her. She had been given the excuse she needed to give in completely to what was happening and from the way she was melting in his arms, she was loving every moment of it.
Unfortunately for the two of them, the carriage they were in slowly came to a stop, the driver announcing their arrival. The tailor's shop was also in the Noble's district and so wasn't all that far from Zarra's house. A groan of frustration left the woman when Greg pulled back and left her burning with a deep desire for more. Greg stepped out of the carriage even as the woman was quickly putting herself together so that none of what had transpired within the carriage would be evident. Moving slowly to give her time, Greg came around to her door and pulled it open. Her face was still a bit flushed, but other than that, she had managed to regain her air of calm and control. Holding out his hand, Greg smiled as he helped her down off the carriage and then stepped behind her to follow her into the house.
Greg's mind, which had been coming up with a whole slew of ideas about how he could bed this ravishing woman before him, came to a screeching halt the moment they crossed the door. Standing in the very same room that Greg first met Zarra in, was a man that appeared to be in his late forties, with a pair of iron grey eyes and a serpentine gaze that could freeze up one's soul. Standing beside him, just a step behind as was befitting a servant, was a giant bear of a man. Standing at almost seven feet tall, this man's muscles seemed to have muscles of their own from where Greg was standing. Unlike his boss, this man's eyes weren't cold. Instead, they had the manic look of one that was not only used to violence but reveled in it.
From the way the eyes of the two men immediately zeroed in on him, Greg knew that things were about to get pretty bad, pretty fast…