Tayne stared suspiciously at the man stood before him. Dirty brown hair the colour of mud had been plastered almost flat to his skull in a backwards sweep by some sort of grease or oil, in a miserable imitation of the current fashion. His face tanned darkly by the sun to the extent that it appeared almost weathered, aged beyond it’s time with the corners of each eye creased with the imprint of a crows foot.

Strangely though, all this being said, the man had an almost handsome, roguish quality to him, spoiled only slightly by the uncomfortable look plastered to his face. The ridiculous collar of the man’s silken black jacket was higher on the left hand side, high enough to almost cover his ear entirely, whereas the left was so small that it became a stretch to even label the slight tuft as a collar at all. To Tayne, it looked as if the creator had either been moderately retarded, perhaps with the eye on the left side of his face much higher than the right, or he had fallen with scissors, Snip. And just thought “Fuck it.”

Then there was the trousers. The strange, stretchy white fabric was so taut across the man’s leg and groin region that a blatant outline of his rather substantial penis was blatantly visible to anybody that chanced a glance down below the waistline.

Tayne took a step back away from the mirror, his torso turned as he inspected the odd tail like section of fabric that trailed down the back of his legs. These rich folk are insane.

After shooing the dress-slaves from his room to dress himself in the clothes gifted to him by the Lord of the house, Tayne had summoned Sand to his chambers. The lad now stood to Taynes right, just out of sight of the mirror at a respectful distance.

“Are you absolutely sure it’s meant to look like…” Tay indicated towards his crotch. “This?”

“Yes my Lord.” Sand’s reply was spoken with a suspiciously straight face.

“But… Seriously?”

“Yes my Lord.” The same answer, the same straight face. The boy obviously unsure of himself after “Lord” Tay had given him the telling off from before.

“Look, Sand. In here, behind closed doors, I give you permission to be honest. I’m not from these parts…” Another grimace-like glance at the clothing that adorned his body. “Evidently. So please, speak your mind.” Immediately the boy let out a deep breath, the sound of which whistled through his flared nostrils as the neutral expression melted into one of relief.

“Yes Me’lord.” The false upper class accent discarded.

“Well?”

“S’wat they wears Me’lord.” Sand shrugged as he spoke, the disgust in his expression barely contained.

“But what if he, you know… gets… excited?”

“Who’s’at Me’lord?”

“You know… Tay junior” Tayne indicated towards the sausage-like bulge that ran from the crotch region to halfway down his inner thigh, the motion elicited a half laugh, half splutter from the manservant before him.

“Erm… Don’t?”

“Don’t?”

“Yeah… Don’t” The lad’s cheeks flared a bright red in colour as his sea-blue eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at Tayne himself.

“Don’t.” Tay muttered in disbelief as he once again looked himself up and down in the mirror before him. With a shake of the head, he turned his gaze back to the blonde headed boy. “Well… let’s go I guess.” The servant nodded as he turned, grateful to avert his eyes, the order giving him something new to occupy himself with as he spun on his heels and set off with Tayne a pace behind. Obscenities rolled from his lips in a low mumble, as he absently picked the ridiculously tight fabric from between his arsecheeks with his good hand. “Tarran Damned things.”

“Tarren damn’s what my Lord?” Tayne’s hand froze in its fifth attempt to remove the wedgie the seemingly ten sizes too small trousers were currently inflicting upon the area of skin between his two rear man-buns, at the sound of a female voice. With an inward curse, the degenerate raised his gaze from the floor. Shit. The single word resonated inside his skull as his eyes landed on the Stormy grey-blue orbs of the beautiful Amelia Von’Faygan. The stunning young woman stood before him wearing what appeared to be nothing more than a piece of thread. The turquoise fabric crossed from each bare shoulder, down and across her naked breast, skilfully passing over each nipple to end in a golden clasp attached to the waistband of a gauzy, see through skirt of the same colour. Ridiculously, the meticulously covered nipples were juxtaposed by the fact that the flimsy dress was completely translucent, and the woman was wearing no underwear whatsoever, her forbidden garden on display for all to admire. What was the damn point in covering her breasts at all?

Shit. Tayne thought once more as Tay junior began to twitch. No! no, think of something else. Anything else. An image of an abnormally obese, hairy woman sprung to mind, unwashed folds of fat dark with dirt and grime wobbled as she struggled to breathe, her breaths escaping her plump lips in a rattling wheeze. His cock responded, as quickly as it had begun to grow, it began to shrink. Relief.

The moment was short lived as his concentration was shattered by the most seductive, girlish giggle that had ever graced his unworthy (and usually unwashed) ears. The hairs on his arm rose in a flash as Amelia’s touch brought him back around. Shit. Again, Tayne’s traitorous third leg began to swell as he realised Amelia had caught him with his gaze locked to her privates, and genuinely seemed to love it.

“Tynerian.” She stated in a husky voice, as if she herself was short of breath. What? It took everything that Tayne possessed, but with a heartfelt sigh, he managed to tear his gaze away from her body, up to meet her gaze once more. Or so he expected, except the look was not reciprocated… her gorgeous stormy sea gaze appeared to be locked to his crotch. As he followed her stare, panic set in. Private Tayne junior of the CockandBalls brigade was evidently stood to attention; the traitorous soldier obviously had come to the conclusion that the beautiful Amelia Von’Faygan was his new and improved captain.

“The clothes. Tynerian fashion, it’s all the…” Amelia trailed off as Tay’s bastard of a penis decided that the panic he felt so acutely, would for some reason serve not to subdue the flow of blood, but to arouse his flesh cannon further. “Craze here….” She finished. Shit. In this moment, the drunk made a decision. The decision consisted of two words. Fuck and it.

“Slightly revealing wouldn’t you say?” His gaze lowered to the rather large tent that seemed to be rising further and further away from his body by the moment.

“Delightfully so.” Amelia replied, seemingly mesmerised by Tayne’s crotch.

“So, Shall we?” Tayne asked as he cocked his arm, proffered in indication for the immaculate creature before him to take. Amazingly, and much to his shock, she complied, unfortunately with the most seductive half smile the man had ever witnessed.

“We shall.” Shit. The second utterance in that same breathless husky tone, combined with the way the soft stretchy fabric rubbed against his erect cock was really starting to cause him problems, his steps slightly erratic as slight spasms ran up and down his legs. Still, with admirable stupidity, the man soldiered on. Sand opened the great door, bowed and moved out of the way to allow them passage, an attempt at hiding his humour locked behind a stoic expression held in place the entire time.

“Ah! The man of the hour!” Tay barely caught the groan that threatened to leave his lips as he recognised Thorne’s voice. Again panic returned. His eyes flittered about his immediate vicinity, searching for any way he could hide his manly bulge.

“Thorne!” He exclaimed somewhat over-eagerly as he abruptly detached himself from Amelia’s arm, save her Uncle make the erection connection. The beauty’s eyes watched him hungrily as he retreated in panic, the gaze strengthened the inconvenience where her uncle had weakened it with his summons. Shit. The false Lord bent forward as he walked, his good hand pressed slightly to the side of his back as if in indication of pain, an excuse for him to hunch and diminish the panty-pyramid that led the way before him.

“Lord Tay! Are you well?” The head of the Von’Faygan family guard indicated towards his hunch, with what appeared to be genuine concern.

“Nothing to worry about my Lord, cricked my back getting dressed.” Really? In the moment of panic, Tayne’s mind had just gone blank. Thorne’s eyes had gone wide, his jaw hung slightly agape. “Heh.” What the hell was that? The awkward noise escaped before he could stop it, an odd, almost-laugh. Luckily, this seemed to restore Thorne’s composure, his teeth clicked as his jaw snapped shut before opening once more as he roared with laughter.

“A crime boss…” he paused as he caught his breath. “A bloody dire wolf… AND an assassin. And you “cricked” your back getting dressed!”

“Unfortunately My Lord, Kironyte protects only during battle.” Shi- Wait, actually that was pretty good. The reply rolled from his tongue in the most natural of ways, impressing even himself with his acting skills. This silver tongued remark doubled the Von’Faygan’s laughter until he was bent at the waist, tears wiped from bearded cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I must say dear boy, you are full of surprises aren’t you.” With a chuckle, he straightened back upright and indicated to the man stood beside him. “Lord Tay of Dagonia, may I introduce my Brother. Lord Raydian Von’Faygan.” The man extended his hand, lightly manicured nails tipped each almost delicate finger, contradicted by obvious brute strength that the large, muscled arms beheld. A black beard lined his jaw, not dissimilar to his brothers in style, although his own was flecked with grey hairs like snow on coal. The resemblance between the brothers was uncanny, the only major difference, Raydian being somewhat shorter and darker of hair.

“Lord Tay.” Raydian’s voice was a deep rumble, gravely and absolutely… terrifying. Tayne had thought Thorne to be the one to watch out for, how wrong he had been. Raydian’s eyes seemed to stare into his very soul, the tone of his voice demanded respect, his posture one of power. Shit.

“Lord Von’Fay-”

“Ray. Please, after all you have done for my family…” The Lord of the house cut him off, only to trail off into meaningful silence.

“Ray…” Tay replied as he took his host’s hand in his own. Pain blossomed as the head of house Von’Faygan squeezed in return, his grip equivalent to that of a golem, his strength seemed impossible to have come from a mere mortal.

“Please, be seated.” The impressive man gestured towards the vacant chair, directly to the right of the large throne like beast that was evidently the head of the family’s perch. Now, of course Tayne was no noble, but this was clearly the guest of honours chair.

“Thank you Lord Ray”

“Ray, just Ray.” Von’Faygan intoned. The panic had slightly subsided now that he had taken his place, his shame hidden from the room under the dark mahogany table before him, yet still, he was unsure how to handle this overly familiar name request… Yesterday, he was a nobody. Today, he was sat in the place of the guest of honour at the table of one of the wealthiest men in the whole of Sulpi, being addressed as “lord Tay”, and being requested to call his host by a name that likely only his closest of friends were allowed to use. Shit. The panic had bound his tongue, mounting by the moment into a crescendo of terror. Luckily, the drunken degenerate still possessed enough wit to incline his head, as if in acknowledgement, which luckily seemed to be enough of a reply to satisfy “Ray”, whom smiled in return before taking his own seat.

“Of course, me and you are due a real conversation, man to man in honour of the deeds you have performed today, but for now, all I will say is you have my sincerest appreciation and to know that I, and my family, are forever in your debt. But for now… Let us drink. ” with that said, Raydian Von’Faygan pressed a large jewel studded golden goblet into Tayne’s freshly scrubbed hand, the purple wine within sloshed slightly, enough to slip over the rim onto his hand and dribble slowly down and over his wrist to drip to the floor. Tayne inclined his head again once more to acknowledge the praise, pressed his goblet to that of his host in salute, then raised the cup to his lips, the contents drained in a single mouthful.

This was but the first of the many mistakes our delightful degenerate was to make this eventful evening…