5.53 – Found

5.53 – Found

Rosalie wasn't sure what was more embarrassing: the horrifying way Zoey and Delta had extracted her orgasm, or the excessive assurances they had showered onto her afterward. Even Delta, the ever-persisting irritant, had gone out of her way to tell Rosalie that she hadn't meant what she'd said. That there wasn't anything wrong with Rosalie having lost control, especially so easily. And while, admittedly, a small part of Rosalie had genuinely been ashamed at how easily they'd taken control of her, and even worried what Zoey and Delta thought of her ... higher than typical sensitivity ... Rosalie had absolutely, certainly not needed to be pampered afterward in the manner she had. She was hardly made of glass.

Afterward, the day carried on like most before it. Rosalie spent her morning and afternoon training until her muscles were screaming, begging for relief. Rosalie found the intensity refreshing: a great way to clear her mind. Familiar, and thus comfortable. She felt less guilty after a day of hard work, too, over how impractical certain portions of her life had become. The excuse that Zoey's class boosted their opportunities for progression far beyond what would normally be possible was only half an excuse. Because she could have that benefit while still structuring her life in an efficient way. Which she wasn't.

Point in case: this afternoon. Where Rosalie headed, after training.

To a ...

A ...

Well. There was no way to put it that would lessen the impropriety. A sex store. She, Rosalie d'Celestin, heiress to one of the three most influential wayfaring organizations in the world, was walking around, blushing, as she took in all manners of wildly inappropriate 'leisure items'.

Rosalie was ... impressed. The variety boggled her mind. She'd had no idea how many ways artisans—if they could be called that—had fashioned fake toy-cocks. Only a portion of their catalog even resembled real genitalia. Some of the toys were bigger than Zoey's, which was absurd, because her girlfriend needed a literal magical ability to stuff herself inside Rosalie. What purpose was a toy these sizes?

Though, Rosalie would admit—actually, she would never admit it—that she did appreciatively eye some of the bigger, stranger-looking ones. Some that would stick nearly up into her throat, if she tried to ride them, which was just complete nonsense. Still, it would definitely be ... an interesting experience, playing around with them. Rosalie had found an appreciation for the insane stretch that came with tackling larger sizes.

She shook her head clear. She had come here with a vague, highly embarrassing goal in mind, but a goal nonetheless. As much as Zoey and Delta had poured their adoration into her after her thorough humiliation, Rosalie had come to terms with a truth: she had a shortcoming. She was, simply put, way too easy to make cum. Embarrassingly so.

Rosalie, ever the practical forward-minded wayfarer, was more than capable of admitting when there were areas she needed to improve in. While admitting to a shortcoming out loud was indecorous behavior—the leader of an empire should always appear unassailable, and while Rosalie was far from the leader of the Deepshunters Guild, she was poised to become that, however many decades it might take—admitting her faults to herself was crucial for growth.

So.

Rosalie was embarrassingly fast to cum, and she needed to fix that. Doubly so when Zoey's potion was affecting her. When she had ... a cock. A shiver went up her spine, remembering the whole event. She didn't have the same obsession that Delta did with growing that thing between her legs, but Rosalie might not be wholly against trying it a second time. Though, admittedly, having Zoey bulge her stomach outward would simply never be beat; that was definitely her favorite way to 'engage', intimately speaking.

"You need any help, miss?" a voice to her side asked. "And, uh, that's for our more experienced clientele, by the way. Not sure if it's great for beginners."

Rosalie didn't jump in surprise; that would indicate a terrible lack of awareness unacceptable even in the most casual of circumstances. Rather, she very slightly, imperceptibly really, twitched in not shock, but the mildest sort of surprise. Her eyes had, perhaps, started to glaze over as she imagined some of the uses of the many items on display, but she had kept perfect situational awareness the whole time.

She faced the woman. The sex toy clerk was a woman in her mid-thirties, with nose and ear piercings and vibrantly colored neon-green hair.

"Experienced?" Rosalie asked. Had she just called Rosalie a 'beginner'? She found herself mildly offended, even if she really shouldn't be. "I'm plenty experienced."

The sex toy shop clerk paused. Her lips tugged up into a smirk, before she quickly wiped it away, as if she hadn't meant to let the reaction show. Rosalie could tell what the involuntary response meant: she didn't believe Rosalie. Which, again, wasn't a bad thing. Why had Rosalie even defended herself?

But, Rosalie was experienced. Sure, all of it might have come from the past few weeks, but in that time, she'd had enough sex to correct all her years of—well, seclusion wasn't the right word, but Rosalie had definitely been singularly-minded during that time. Romance and sex, very, very much not something she'd spared more than passing thoughts for.

But her point: she wasn't inexperienced, and certainly not a 'beginner', and frankly, thanks to the strange encounters from the shard, she had likely seen—and done!—some things even this woman never had.

So. There. She wasn't inexperienced. A simple fact.

"Right," the clerk said. "I'm Ash, by the way. Are you looking for anything specific?"

Ash blinked. She laughed, then raised a hand and pointed at her ring finger, where she was wearing a silver band. "Not propositioning you. Just saying."

"Oh."

"If you have a girlfriend, why isn't she getting the privilege? Why a toy?" She stopped in front of a shelf with various ... well, what Rosalie had asked for. Pocket pussies. And of many different forms. Rosalie blushed furiously, only half because of the lewd display. Rather, mostly because of Ash's question.

"I ..." Her voice slowly sank into an embarrassed mumble. "I should train a bit before we go again. That's why I need one."

Ash paused. A sympathetic look crossed her face. "Ah, well, no shame in that, sweetie. Coochies feel good. That's the whole point."

Rosalie briefly considered running away. Only her standing as a d'Celestin—secret or not—kept her from doing so.

"So. I only want it for training," Rosalie said, having no other response to Ash's mortifying assurance. "That's why I'm here." Certainly, Rosalie wasn't so degenerate as to be out seeking toys to pleasure herself with for entertainment purposes only. This was a functional shopping trip. She wasn't as shameless as Delta, to be carrying things like that around just for her own sake.

"Ah, right," Ash laughed. "Training. You're not looking for a 'pocket pussy', you're looking for a 'stamina enhancing unit'." She air-quoted the words, grinning at Rosalie as she did, like she was sharing a joke with her. Except, Rosalie meant it. It was for training!

The clerk's nonchalance did, at least, set her slightly more at ease. It was obvious that this sort of salesmanship was her job: Rosalie was hardly the first blushing girl to come in, looking for a toy.

"So, what about this?" Ash asked. "I've heard good things. It'll have your eyes rolling up in no time. And when it comes to 'training', practice hard, right?"

Rosalie took the offered item. Flushing, she awkwardly turned the item around, inspecting the lewd toy as if she had the slightest idea what to look for. There was, at least, one obvious problem to point out.

"I think it's too small," Rosalie said.

"I doubt that, dear."

"Um, no. It is. Do you have anything bigger?"

Ash paused, and her amusement slowly morphed into incredulity. "Wait. You're serious?"

Rosalie cleared her throat, looking away. "Yes," she said. "I definitely need a bigger one."

"Wow," Ash said. After a moment, she repeated herself. "Wow. I really need to get my hands on one of those potions, don't I?"

Rosalie was saved from floundering around for a response. The conversation abruptly cut off, interrupted by a third party. A hand settled on Rosalie's shoulder, making her stiffen and turn in surprise.

Standing there was a familiar face.

A face so familiar, and yet so shocking, that Rosalie's world came abruptly crashing down. The floor dropped from beneath her feet.

"Found you, brat," said no one but Lucinda Everhart. "It's about fucking time."