The moment Ava stepped into the room beneath the earth, she knew this wasn’t a fundraiser for orphans.
For one, there were far too many naked people.
Ava didn’t know much about rich humans, save what she’d read in the Morning Wood.
Usually they tried to avoid talking to her once she brought out the quill and paper, but she’d read accounts of their lifestyles from other articles.
She knew the rich enjoyed their hedonistic orgies (as they should. Everyone in the groves liked a good orgy) they, for some reason, didn’t want people to know about them.
Thus, as Ava slipped into the large room from behind a curtain, she marvelled at the scene before her.
Arching black stone formed a dome, the walls layered with silk banners depicting a black spider with a red hourglass sign.
Braziers burned an emerald flame, their smoke heavy in the air, coiling around bodies moving and rutting in pleasure.
Women of gloriously ample curves gave out pleasured moans. Men of... less appealing girth, but certainly eager thrust into the panting goddesses who lay among them.
And in the center of the room was a large altar, built atop a pedestal of stone so black it seemed to drink the light.
On it was a young woman, one that Ava recognized in a flash.
Of course, Lady Primwood looked quite different from the descriptions given.
For one, she was in quite the state of undress, currently clothed in nothing but a sensuous white silk sheet, one which clung to her firm breasts like two mounds, bunched between her thighs as the woman moaned softly, writhing in the grasp of the white sheet. But there was no mistaking those flowing locks of hair, nor the mole on her cheek.
Ava had always been sensitive to magic, as all elves were, and this room was absolutely soaking in it.
She could even see the subtle mist of it, writhing up out of the moaning crowd, spiralling into the altar in the center, feeding into the panting form of Lady Primwood as her hips gently rocked, her skin flushed as if she were rutting against some invisible lover.
Ava gasped as she felt gentle hands on her shoulder. "Lovely, isn’t it?" Countess Vargaras purred in her ear.
"A-ah," Ava gasped, her skin so sensitive even such a light touch shot to her core.
"All for the orphans, of course," the countess added in a teasing tone.
Ava bit her lip. This woman must think she’s a complete idiot. "S-so I s-see..."
"I’ve heard rumors about elves, you know," the countess murmured, gently massaging Ava’s shoulders, making the elf whimper as the countess’s hands slid down Ava’s arms.
As the woman stepped in closer, pressing the young elf against her soft breasts. "That they are so... eager to taste the delights of the physical and mystical... Goodness, girl. You’re trembling. Is this a shock?"
Ava realized the wand in her pocket was positively thrumming against her thigh like a drumstick in the hands of a schizophrenic. "A-a little. I d-didn’t realize ch-charities were... were so..."
"Exciting?" the countess murmured, her hands moving around the elf, one looping about her, cupping a full, eager breast and giving it a teasing squeeze. "Well, one must keep things interesting for the donors, you know. Don’t worry," she said, kissing Ava’s neck, her other palm resting against the front of Ava’s pants, the elf gasping, pressing herself against the finger that lazily stroked her rapidly dampening cunny. "I’ll show you how to... solicit... donations..."
Ava was panting, her head whirling, drunk on magic and lust and insidious pleasure.
She didn’t hear the harsh clearing of a throat, but she did feel the countess pause in her ministrations, the seductive milf turning her head.
"Why, if it isn’t Ludmilla. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Ava turned her head, her swimming vision focusing dimly on a familiar figure.
Ludmilla looked even more impressive now, for the woman was garbed in a long, revealing black robe.
The neckline plunged nearly to the belt and two slits in the sides revealed her hips and lovely legs.
A girdle of eight crimson jewels stretched around her waist, and around her neck was the familiar gold amulet of the spider.
"Countess. I see you brought a guest."
"I did. Poor dear came by looking for donations for orphans. I thought I would show her to the fundraiser."
"Is that so?" Ludmilla said, her eyes meeting Ava’s, sending a pulse of raw, sensual pleasure pounding through the elf. "How interesting. I was under the impression she was a reporter."
Ava groaned. How could her clever disguise have been disassembled so quickly! The countess gasped in shock. "A reporter! I never would have guessed. She claimed she was soliciting donations. Naughty girl! I may need to give her a spanking!"
"It’s the least she deserves," said Ludmilla, reaching out to caress the collar around Ava’s neck, lifting the stone thoughtfully. "She is rather meddlesome. But I think this one is needed for an amusement far greater than a paddling to her plush little bottom. Isn’t that right, Ava Copperman?"
"Yessss," hissed Ava, gazing adoringly into Ludmilla’s eyes.
Those eyes seemed to flicker from brown to red for a moment and then back again. Ava felt pleasure ripple through her core as Ludmilla pressed closer. Caressing. Squeezing the ripeness of Ava’s elf body.
"Well, she is my guest," said the countess, trying to insert herself back into the conversation. "This is also my house. If I want to bend the snooping little trollop over and punish her perky rear, I believe I am entitled to do as I please."
"You wish to steal an offering from the Silken Queen?" asked Ludmilla, her voice low and threatening.
Countess Vargaras blanched and shook her head. "N-no. No. I didn’t mean that, Ludmilla. I only meant... ah... you mean to offer her? But... we have prepared Lady Primrose to bring Her forth."
Ava blinked. She felt a prickling at the edge of her mind like something these two were talking about should have concerned her.
Strangely, she didn’t feel worried at all. She continued to smile as the gem on her collar pulsated.