24 The Gifted Object

After returning from the treating the Liora Rostrea of her wound, Caina had been busy. A rogue's gallery of mercenaries had come plundering through the Banshee's Bellows. All making a pitstop to see if the rumours of the treasure in the Aldergreen held any truth. Most being sorely disappointed when they came to learn that every inch of the forest had been picked with a fine-tooth comb only for barely a handful to make it out. Whether they were devoured by the monsters that called that place home or simply got lost and perished, no one knew.

Afterword's the more realistic few would solemnly leave, making their way to the frontlines to see if they could get any buckles for assisting in the war. For whichever side was willing to pay the most, that is.

This rogue's gallery had left her exhausted, clambering to and from to kitchen the moment she entered the tavern. By the time she was finally done her feet ached and her nipples were rubbed red from chaffing against her sweat matted shirt which barely had a chance to dry after she'd washed herself off in the Rostrea home.

When she did clamber into her room, she had practically thrown herself onto her bed. Clasping her pillow to her chest and pressing it between her legs, just moments away from falling right into sleep. Only to be awoken when one of the last remaining drunkards crashed sending his tankard to the floor with a loud enough noise that it reverberated through the tavern, jolting her awake.

Her eyes blankly remained open, staring at the nightstand besides her bed where a candle was flickering, nearing its point of depletion. Its white wax dying its holder and the table in several layers of the stuff. Also, on the table was the wooden box she'd been given by Noah as payment for her services. Yet to have actually opened it and inspected its contents.

"Haaa… lets see just how worthless whatever this is, is." She had no confidence it held any value considering just how poorly the house looked with its barren walls and empty rooms.

Sitting up, she reached out to the box and lifted it up, bringing it to her lap to finger and feel around it's smooth woody texture and squeaky brass hinges. "Atleast I can use the box for something…" she mumbled, finally getting to the point of lifting the lid open to reveal the plush, velvet insides and the long, ornate and intricately designed penis within.

Caina promptly slammed the lid shut and glared at the box. "please tell me this isn't what I saw it was?" she groaned and slowly began to reopen it. Pleading that it was not infact, a disembodied, jeweled phallus.

"Good heavens above," Indeed, as it had turned out, it was exactly what she had expected. A long, thick and veiny example of male genitalia. "I… am going to break my oath." The oath that she would never, not ever, never once in her life. Purposefully take a life.

Letting out a sigh into her palm, she rubbed her eyes. A faint flush overtaking her usual olive skin tone as she continued staring at the object. "I do not want to do this… why did he do this to me… please tell me he know's what this means."

The world of Minas and the continent of Pregea and the kingdom of Morea by default, had its many fair shares of unusual customs brought about over its many years of existence. None moreso than the habits of the believers of Ascleminia, the goddess of medicine, healing and of course, the body. She was the goddess of all the Asclepia that crossed the world. The teacher who taught them about healing the ailing.

An archaic story from over the oceans to the lands of Parlight spoke of a student of Ascleminia who on his dying bed severed from himself the source of his lust. Preserving it in all its rigidity and gifted it to the goddess who accepted with open arms and proceeded to make use of it for thirty-one days and thirty-one nights before the student finally passed. Crying out to those on his deathbed how he could feel his goddesses love for him at every moment.

Since then it had become an unusual tradition of Asclepia to gift artificial renditions of ones own beloved, to give them something to hold and 'love' while they were out on traveling the world for their missions.

It was a highly archaic tradition. One that was on the verge of being phased out as these healing missions gradually became unnecessary with the sheer amount of new asclepia being taught in the academies of every continent and thrown to each and every village around.

Even if the gifter wasn't an Asclepia, it was still a sign of 'love' no matter what. And now that 'love' had fallen into Caina's hands. Worse yet, simply returning the article of 'love' to its original counterpart was frowned upon. Asclepia were anything if not traditional and tradition trumped feelings. Meaning she was now stuck with a metal penis and frustration as to what she should do.

So, with a twitching cheek and a bundle of irritation and a mild hint of curiosity, she reached out to the jewelled phallus. Plucking it from its confines to twirl it around and inspect its each and every detailed vein and is more than engorged tip.

"This is quite absurd," she mumbled finding it was ominously large for a male's penile place. Thick as well. Curling a finger, she flicked it finding it gave no give and instead left a lingering sting on her finger where it made contact with the cold metal. "This isn't actually his, is it?" She was certainly hoping it wasn't.

As her fingers trailed over the veins of the shaft she slowly found herself growing entranced, an itchy feeling raising in her womanhood that lead to her gulping down a thick globule of spit. Realization quickly came to her and she shot her hand away, dropping the phallus onto her bed while rapidly blinking at it. "What am I doing?" she clasped her hands to her chest. The thought of actually putting the thing to use having revolted her for exactly a second.

Actually putting such a gift into use was tantamount to accepting the mans feelings.

"I can't no way, never," she spat out grabbing the rod to shove it back into its box and slam the thing shut. Only to pause at the box shutting stage when her door was thrown open a large man stumbled in sending her arms jolting, throwing the toy to the air while she stared in shock at the collapsing man who soon flattened himself on the floor with a drunken stench exuding off of him and corrupting her room.

*Hic* Shurry mish, *hic* the man slowly lifted himself up to resstumble his way out of her room, screaming to the others in the tavern below, "Whon mer pinth!" leaving Caina clasping her dancing heart in horror.

With her breath trembling, Caina lifted herself from her bed a made quick strides to the door to shut it and lock it like she had forgotten to earlier.

Spinning around, Caina leaned into the door, gasping out breath she had been holding since her unwanted intruder had come in. "AHHHH!" she screamed letting herself skid down the door and seat herself on the floor.

She hated it here. Who in their right mind would call being a waitress a tavern wench a nonstressfull job? Because, well, it wasn't. Not when most of the patronage didn't know about basic decency and the other part actively and persistently tried to get inside of her.

Her head lowered, her eyes wandering over her plain room stocked with medical supplies and an unnecessary amount of blades just so she had something to reach out to and grab to shove into someone who decided they'd had enough of her resisting their pushes.

"This isn't right…" she mumbled curling her legs into her chest and wrapping her arms around them just moments from burying her face into them.

She was trained, she was supposed to be some nobleman's personal apothecary, not some generic healer in a backwater village on the verge of bankruptcy filled with treasure seeking fools who could barely escape from a slimes ass let alone one of the more dangerous monsters.

A glint of light took her attention making her lift her head and glance to the now ominously enticing shape of the gifted member. Her cheek twitched, ignoring her traditions she thought, 'it would be better than my fingers…'