The Merry Llewd

Fern found the Count in his study fumbling with the clasps on his costume. For all the care and detail that had gone into Cinny’s preparations, his was relatively simple. He’d walked into his office to find a long cloak that almost reached the floor, roughly matching the style of the two doe’s dresses: midnight blue, with red and gold brocade around the neckline and lapels. “That’s it?”

Putting on the coat took moments, but when the doe entered, he found he’d still managed to overdo is costume.

“You still have your pants on.”

“What?”

“Your pants, and everything else needs to come off. You just wear the coat. Princess Music wears just the dress and you wear just the coat. It was in the program.”

“Oh. Sorry. Just being absent minded.”

There was a change in her demeanor, a hint of playfulness that he hadn’t noticed before. She’s learning the craft, Count thought, but she’s also enjoying this. He opened the coat and started undoing his belt, then felt an uncharacteristic wave of self consciousness as he realized he’d have to take the coat off to get to his shirt. Clearing his throat, he turned his back on the doe who was leaning against the door frame with a small smirk. Off came the coat, then to the shirt. Working too quickly, he fumbled with the buttons in the small of his back. The shirt was hand crafted from the local tailors. It buttoned down the front just like any shirt worn by an earth pony or unicorn, but also had two slits in the back to accommodate his wings, much like a pegasus would require. The slits buttoned up close below the wings to form two, well fitted holes around the base. A pegasus’ shirt could do in a pinch, but the wing holes were typically too large for a bat pony, and made it look like he was trying to show off his powerful flight muscles. That just wouldn’t do for a professional.

“Let me help you with that.” Fernelia stepped forward and undid the buttons.

“This is a lovely fabric. So soft.” She brushed her fingers up the strip of fabric between his wings.

Oh Crumb! Not that spot! Count stiffened as her touch sent an electric jolt down his spine and straight to his nether region. He could feel his stallionhood unsheathing.

“Uh. Thank you.” He stepped forward, just out of reach, and cleared his throat. “So how long have you been apprenticed to Cladonia? If that’s the right word.”

“Hmm.” She thought for a moment. “Oh! It’ll be 10 years this spring.”

“Ten years!” He looked over his shoulder in surprise. “You must start young.”

“You never know when a gwinoit will manifest. That’s usually when we start apprenticing. It’s pretty light when you’re young, but it keeps you out of trouble.”

Count was uncharacteristically self conscious undressing in front of this near stranger. It came out as attempts at banter. “Oh? Are you the ‘trouble’ type.” With his back to her, he quickly dropped his trousers and stepped out of them, reaching for the coat.

When he glanced over his shoulder, there was a small smile on Fernela’s muzzle. Her eyes were clearly fixed on his backside. “Oh I can be. There are a lot of ways to be trouble, and I’ve found a few. Cladonia is tough to work for, but it’s a good thing she found me when she did.”

Count buttoned up the long cloak, and turned spreading his arms. “How do I look?” He was acutely aware of his nakedness under the robe, but at least he was coved to any outside observer.

“You missed the most important piece.”

“What?” Count looked down at himself, and back up, but the doe was pointing at the coat rack. “I don’t see —. What is that?”

It was hanging on the same hook the coat had been on, but had previously been covered by it. It appeared to be a brass ring, ornately carved, and big enough to put two or three fingers through.

Fernela picked it up and held it in front of him at waist height. “It goes around your scrotum, above your tentacles.”

“But how is it going to go on? Oh. Oh my...” Even as he was asking, she pressed a portion of the carvings and a clasp opened on a nearly invisible hinge. In a deft motion, she parted his robe and lifted the flaccid tip of his stallionhood with a warm hand. He soon felt the cold metal against the skin of his scrotum. There was a noticeable and final click that he felt as much as heard.

She came up and looked up at him with a perky, (or was it mischievous?) expression. “All set!”

Did she give me a squeeze on the way up? This is a new side to her I haven’t seen before. He could still feel the warmth and pressure of her touch on his shaft, which was responding by sliding further out of his sheath. He tried to divert his attention before it became difficult to keep it contained with in his coat, but wasn’t helped by her knowing smirk.

“I do believe that you can be trouble.”

She chuckled. “Maybe that’s why I’m the best choice to keep you out of it tonight. I know my way around bucks like you.”

“Is that what the ring is for?” He could feel it, cold and heavy weighing down his tentacles.

She gave a short nod. “Mhm. You’ll see.” Then she went to the window and stared out into the night.