I’m taking a short break from my Lesbian BDSM stuff and shifting focus back to my other Alaria stories. The plan is to start cycling through my active poll-driven stories, but to get myself going I’m starting a new, breast focused story of fantasy perversion. You can find the short introduction to the story below the break along with the initial poll options.

Content Warnings/Kink Spoilers: It’s a short introductory entry at just under 2,000 words with no sex scene but some building heat centered around large breasts. There’s some mild/subtle mind control which will probably remain a central focus of the story.

The Breast-Obsessed Merchant

It was a stunningly beautiful day as the horse-drawn cart made its way through the winding hills of the Endless Lowlands. Like all that vast stretch of wilds the landscape was filled with low, rolling hills covered in a sea of tall grain-like grass. The cool breeze that blew across it left the grass looking like waves of an ocean, a soothing sight both occupants of the horse-drawn cart were enjoying.

 The driver, an attractive young Human man, was a merchant, his cart loaded down with goods. This was far from his first time driving his one-cart caravan through the Endless Lowlands. Its beauty always enthralled him, but he knew that beauty was a lie. The Endless Lowlands might LOOK tranquil but they were far from it. Like most of Alaria they were considered to be part of “the wilds”, an untamed wilderness that had yet been reclaimed by civilization as it slowly reformed after long distant and mysterious calamity called The Great Collapse.

That tranquil-looking sea of gently blowing grass hid countless dangers. Behind every gently rolling hill might be ancient ruins hiding long forgotten treasure, treasure that’s power would attract ferocious monsters that would attack any who got near whether they knew the ruins were there or not. There were wandering monsters as well, and wild animals that were as ferocious as any monster. And now that a handful of cart-paths like the one the merchant was following crisscrossed the Endless Lowlands there were the occasional groups of bandits, lying in wait to pick off unprotected travelers.

Those dangers explained the second figure in the cart. Sitting beside the merchant in the front of the horse-drawn cart was a Dwarven woman, a large and menacing two-handed war hammer resting on her lap. The mercenary was young and inexperienced, but strong and fierce-looking.

She was also startlingly beautiful. Her long orange-red hair flowed in the wind trailing behind them as the merchant drove the cart along the trail they were following. Even those who didn’t find the bulky, short, wide build of Dwarven women attractive would be unable to deny her beauty. Her youthful face was stunning, her features giving her an air of being pure and untouched. Looking just at her face one could get swept away by her chubby beauty, feeling they were looking at a cherubic angel. Yet once a viewer’s eyes wandered southward the sense of angelic, pure beauty quickly became something else.

Like all Dwarven women the young mercenary had a short, wide build. Compared to most races of Alaria Dwarves looked fat, but even plump Dwarves’ bodies were as much muscle as fat. This was doubly so for Dwarven women, with their soft feminine curves covering a layer of dense, heavy muscles. The Dwarven mercenary’s body might look to be that of a plump woman with exaggerated curves, but anyone who had seen a Dwarven woman in a fight knew she was a physical powerhouse.

Of course, those who hadn’t seen Dwarven women fight might struggle to look past the size of the mercenary’s breasts. They were massive, at least when compared to what one would commonly find on a Human woman. She came from a Dwarven culture that embraced their womanly curves so the purple tunic she wore was cut low in the front, leaving much of her voluminous cleavage on display.

As the cart made its way along the rough trail they were following its wheels remained locked into the cartwheel grooves, rocks and uneven road causing the cart to bounce and rock. This left her overlarge breasts bouncing and jiggling as well, something the young Dwarve was feeling progressively more self-conscious about.

At least he’s not staring as much as most would, she thought as she noticed her employer glance momentarily at her breasts before quickly looking away. I wasn’t sure when I took on this job. He’s so young… I struggle with Human’s ages, but he can’t be more than thirty and is probably a little younger than that. Still, he had a good reputation for being a reliable merchant AND was offering a lot of money to work as his protector.

The money had been far too much to pass up, especially as payment for such a simple job. Sure, she’d be gone from her home a long time guarding the man’s merchant cart, but the places they’d be traveling wouldn’t be too dangerous. She was young and inexperienced, but her clan had trained her well. She was certain she’d more than easily able to handle any dangers they encountered, something he seemed to agree upon.

Her only regret was that the only armor she had was the pauldrons on her shoulders. They gleamed in the sunlight, the Dwarven artwork worked into them hiding runes that made them provide as much protection as a full set of mundane, Human-made armor would provide.

Why did I have to choose to spend what I had on THESE and not a chest plate? she thought, internally bemoaning what she now saw as a very poor life choice. With the money she’d had any chest plate she could have afforded, and the meager magical Dwarven runes that would have been worked into it, wouldn’t have provided her any more protection than the pauldrons did, but they WOULD have covered her chest up! Her breasts, which were overlarge even for a Dwarven woman, would be held in place under the armor. Instead, they were jiggling till they were sore and threatening to bounce so violently that they might flop free of her low-cut tunic.

To stop herself from dwelling on her poor choices she decided it was time to throw off the false persona she’d been wearing like a mask since meeting the merchant. She’d been silent and stoic, barely speaking to the young Human. It hadn’t bothered him, he did after all hire her for protection not to keep him company, but she had seen the young man was personable and enjoyed chatting. “So, ser Cilrodril,” she began but before she could continue the young Human cut her off.

“Just ‘Cil’, if you please,” he said, smiling pleasantly at her.

His eyes darted to her cleavage as the cart went over a particularly large rock, sending her tits into a fresh bout of bouncing jiggles. She appreciated how quickly he forced himself to look away from her chest and return to her eyes. Seeing SHE’D seen him look he flashed a charming, bashful grin and gave her a small shrug.

“It’s fine, ser Cil,” she said with a heavy sigh. “It can’t be helped and you’ve been more polite with your eyes than most men are.”

He gave her a polite nod to acknowledge what she’d said then quickly moved the conversation away from her breasts, something the Dwarve was thankful for. She adored her body. It was the perfect Dwarven body, immensely strong and sensually curvaceous. But now that she’d left the Dwarven stronghold she’d grown up in and was in a world filled with men she wasn’t related to, most of which weren’t even Dwarves, she wasn’t sure she enjoyed the kind of attention her breasts got. Sometimes it felt men couldn’t see past them, that in their eyes she wasn’t a warrior to be feared, just a pair of tits to lust after!

“What about your name?” Cil asked the Dwarve. “I know the Dwarves who come from your stronghold are particular about their proper names being used. Dorol of Clan Barrelstone. It’s a mighty menacing nomenclature, but a mouthful conversationally.”

“When we are alone you may call me simply ‘Dorol’, Ser Cil,” she told him after a moment of hesitation. There were members of her clan that would be mortified she was allowing such familiarity from a non-Dwarven man, but she didn’t see the harm if it only happened when no others were around.

“Thank you, Dorol. I know being given such an honor by a Dwarve is not a small thing,” he said, giving her a flirtatious wink that made Dorol fear she might blush and giggle in response.

He’s far from unattractive, she thought, turning to hide the flush she felt spreading across her cheeks. I suppose I just didn’t see it at first. He’s a Human man and one that’s not particularly strong. Compared to the Dwarven men I’ve lusted after he seems so… fragile? Still… there’s something to that dainty attractiveness. I suppose I’m starting to understand why there are so many Dwarven women who dally with the men of other races.

Her cheeks flushed deeper red as her mind wandered to places she knew were incredibly unprofessional. Stop it, Dorol. He’s your employer, not some man to lust over. This isn’t like you. You’re not some giggling foolish girl, you’re a mighty warrior looking to prove your worth through might, NOT feminine charms!

* * *

Cilrodril smiled fiendishly, enjoying the way the youthful, fierce warrior woman had flushed and grown flustered. He was certain it was uncharacteristic for the young woman and knew the feelings must be confusing and maybe even frustrating her.

He put the horse’s reins in one hand, slipping the free hand into a pocket. There he rubbed the Contract Stone the Dwarven woman didn’t know existed, using the magic in the stone to make the woman become more flustered. Willing her mind to wander to places it wouldn’t normally go. Willing her mind into a muddled state where she wouldn’t be able to realize how uncharacteristic and even wrong what she was feeling was.

The magic worked into Contract Stone was powerful, powerful enough that it was rightly feared in the lands where its power was understood. That power was something NOT well known in this region of Alaria, a fact he often took advantage of. The naive Dwarven beauty hadn’t understood her contract of employment had bound her to the magic stone. Now, until her time as his employee was done, the stone would allow him to have immense influence over her thoughts and feelings.

That power could be used like a bludgeon, forcing her to do as he wished. That was something that might be difficult to do now, he’d yet to test its true connection to the Dwarven mercenary, but later on when the stone was more fully connected to her such things would come easily. He didn’t plan on using the stone that way, at least not for now. For now he planned on working her subtly, playing with her body and mind secretly so she remained unaware of the control he had over her until it would be far too late for her to escape.

I’m going to have so much fun with her and those giant jiggly Dwarven tits of hers, he thought. When she turned back to look at him, cheeks still flushed slightly, he quickly hid his true face, putting back on the mask of the friendly, trustable merchant. That’s why I chose her out, he thought as they fell into pleasant, meaningless conversation. Her tits. The bigger the better, and they don’t often come bigger and better than Dwarven tits!

We’ll work quickly towards our first sex scene. What should it be? (Choose up to 5 options)

Cilrodril and his cart full of merchandise has a destination. What that destination is might help determine what kind of merchandise he has/setting for the next stretch of the story/Cilrodril’s goals. Where is that current destination? (Choose up to 6 options)