Mairin's Debut: Valerie and Mairin part 4

"I'm glad," Valerie murmured against Mairin's mouth, pulling her closer. She broke the kiss, her eyes shining, and gently guided Mairin back a step, turning her to face the mirror again.

"We need to get you ready."

"Ready for what?" Mairin asked, her voice a little breathless, the earlier nervousness returning.

Valerie's smile widened, a hint of the hungry gleam returning. "A dinner party, of course. My guests are in the parlor. I've told them all about you."

"A dinner party?" Mairin's eyes went wide. "Now? I've only just arrived." She looked down at the lingerie, then the dress, the weight of the situation crashing in on her. "And you said... you said you told them all about me?"

"Not everything," Valerie soothed, running a finger lightly over Mairin's cheek. "Just when the guest of honor was going to arrive, which the hour approaches. We don't want you late to your own debut!"

Mairin was speechless. She avoided the public when she could. While she enjoyed her growing reputation as a hero, she was wary of the limelight that came with it and all the attention it would bring.

Sensing the woman's discomfort, Valerie teased, "Don't worry, they're all very eager to meet you." She picked up the smaller box. "but we have time to get you prepared and settled in. Besides, if needed, they can wait a little longer. Getting you into this will be half the fun."

Mairin's pulse raced, a mix of thrill and apprehension fluttering in her chest. The towel still clung to her body, damp from the shower, but Valerie's touch—light, insistent—made her skin tingle anew. She glanced at their reflections: herself, pale and wide-eyed, the blue dress draped over one arm like a promise; Valerie beside her, composed and eager, with bronzed curves barely concealed by a silk robe that whispered with every movement.

Valerie set the lingerie box on the bed and tugged at the towel's edge. "Arms up, darling. Let's start with the basics." Mairin hesitated, then obeyed, lifting her arms as the towel fell away, pooling at her feet. Naked once more, her body exposed in the chandelier's glow, she felt that familiar vulnerability from the beach—the way Valerie's gaze had stripped her bare long before her clothes came off. Goosebumps prickled her pearl skin, her massive breasts rising with a shaky inhale, nipples tightening in the room's subtle draft.

Valerie's eyes roamed appreciatively, lingering on the soft swell of Mairin's hips, the inviting shadow between her thighs. "Beautiful," she breathed, selecting the pink satin panties from the box. They were delicate, lace-trimmed, designed to cradle rather than constrain. Kneeling before Mairin, Valerie held them open, her face inches from the heroine's mound. Mairin could feel the warmth of her breath, a teasing puff that made her clit throb faintly, echoes of their earlier play on the sand stirring unbidden.

"Step in," Valerie instructed, voice low and husky. Mairin complied, one foot then the other, as Valerie slid the fabric up her legs, fingers grazing calves, thighs, until the panties settled against her mound. The satin kissed her skin like a lover's whisper, hugging the curves of her ass and the damp heat of her folds. Valerie adjusted the waistband with a slow, deliberate tug, her thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just above Mairin's pubic bone. A soft whimper escaped Mairin, her body remembering Valerie's commands from before—spread your legs, darling—and responding despite the exhaustion.

Next came the garter belt, a slim band of pink silk that cinched around Mairin's waist, its clips dangling like eager invitations. Valerie fastened it with practiced ease, her hands lingering on the small of Mairin's back, tracing the dimples there. "You have such a perfect ass," she murmured, giving it a light pat that sent a jolt straight to Mairin's core. The stockings followed— sheer, thigh-high sheaths of nylon that Valerie rolled up each leg, her palms smoothing the material over Mairin's skin. When she reached the tops, Valerie clipped them to the garters, fingers dancing dangerously close to the panties' edge, which made Mairin gasp.

"Valerie..." Mairin started, but the word dissolved into a sigh as Valerie stood, retrieving the bra. It was a work of art, cups of lace and satin molded to support and accentuate, the straps thin as spider silk. Valerie positioned it around Mairin's torso, reaching around to fasten the hooks. Her breasts pressed against Mairin's back, soft and warm, nipples hard points through the robe. As she adjusted the cups, Valerie's taking the heavy weight of Mairin's breasts into her hands, lifting them into place, both her thumbs briefly brushing against Mairin's niples straining against the lace.

"Fuck, you look sinful," Valerie whispered, her lips brushing Mairin's ear. The heroine's reflection showed it: the lingerie transforming her from vulnerable captive to ethereal temptress, the pink glow against her white skin, her body arched slightly under Valerie's touch. Heat pooled between Mairin's legs. She remembered the shower, Valerie's fingers in her hair, the tenderness masking deeper hunger—and now that hunger was rising again.

Valerie stepped back, admiring her work. "Now the dress. But first..." She trailed off, her hands reach down to smoothly readjust Mairin's stocking, her finger grazing a circle around her thighs. Mairin trembled, a moan slipping free. "You're so sensitive, my darling," Valerie purred, and brought a hands up, her finger tips grazing the just beneath Mairin's navel The larger woman squealed and protested, but not without affection.

Mairin steadied herself with bedpost, "The guests... what if they—"

"They'll adore you," Valerie cut in, withdrawing her hand with a wicked smile. She then helped Mairin into the blue dress, the silk whispering over her skin like cool water. The bodice hugged her waist, the embroidered vines curling around her breasts, lifting them into proud display. The skirt cascaded in layers, brushing her thighs with every shift. In the mirror, Mairin resembled the heroines from the covers of her favorite paperback sapphic novels: a beautiful maiden ready to be ravished in those worn out pages.

Valerie's own attire was a masterpiece of restraint: a sleek black gown that clung to her bronzed form, slit high on one thigh, revealing flashes of leg with each step. She offered her arm. "Shall we?" Mairin's nod was tentative, but she took it, their bodies brushing as they exited the bedroom. The hallway's cinnamon scent grew richer, mingled now with hints of roasted herbs and wine, leading them toward the dining room's arched doors.

Inside, the space unfolded like a banquet from a fever dream: a long ebony table gleamed under flickering candelabras, set with crystal goblets and silver that caught the light like stars. Tapestries of entwined figures adorned the walls, their poses echoing the murals in Valerie's bedroom—mythical lovers in eternal, heated embrace. At the table sat three guests, their conversation halting as Valerie and Mairin entered. Two of them were strangers—one a voluptuous woman, shorter than Valerie, whose dark leather bodice cinched her waste and pushed her breasts into nearly spilling over the low hem of her emerald green dress. Long and luxurious sable black curls framed her handsome face and cascaded down to her shoulders pooling on both sides of her cleavage, like an invitation. The second was a gaunt blonde with a pixie cut, wispy bangs covering their left eye. When they turned to see Mairin, they rose from their seat and approached her, one purple eye sparkled like a sapphire drinking in the sight of her as they circled around the woman, before pulling out a chair for her to sit in.

As Mairin took the seat, the androgynous stranger said in a low and smokey tone, "My goodness, I knew my design was going to be impressive, but I would never have guessed that you would look this splendid in it." they then turned to Valerie, "Once again, Contessa, your eye for detail is like no other."

To Mairin's surprise, the third guest was very familiar : Harmony Gale, or Illusiana as she was known by the rest of Seed City gazed coolly across the table from Mairin. The sharp-eyed, escort and bodyguard of Valerie was dressed androgynous in a white shirt with long sleeves that puffed out from the shoulder and cinched at her wrists. Over her shirt, she wore a tailored black velvet vest.

"Everyone, meet Mairin," Valerie announced, guiding her to the head of the table, a throne-like chair upholstered in velvet. The guests' eyes devoured her, even Harmony's, appreciative murmurs rippling through the air, "Mairin," Valerie said gesturing to the lady in emerald, "this is Dark Star, she and I go way back since our days in Europe."

Dark Star, greeted Mairin and then set her chin upon her two tanned evening gloves, batting her eye affectionately.

The dinner commenced with a flourish: waitstaff in crisp uniforms serving amuse-bouches of seared scallops drizzled in truffle oil, paired with crisp white wine that warmed Mairin's veins. Conversation flowed—light at first, tales of Seed City's underbelly, Valerie's ventures into forbidden tech—but the undercurrent was electric. Valerie's hand rested on Mairin's thigh under the table, fingers tracing lazy patterns up the skirt, inching toward the garters. Mairin squirmed, her fork clattering softly against the plate, arousal building like a storm.

As the main course arrived—tender lamb in a rosemary reduction, accompanied by jewel-toned vegetables—the talk turned bolder. The raven-haired woman, introduced as Liora, leaned forward. "Valerie's been singing your praises for weeks now." Her voice was a velvet rasp, eyes flicking to Mairin's cleavage, where the dress's embroidery framed her breasts like an offering, "We've all be very eager to meet you."

Mairin flushed, wine loosening her tongue. "She's... generous with her compliments." Valerie's fingers chose that moment to slip under the skirt, brushing the edge of the panties, pressing against her clit through the satin. Mairin bit her lip to stifle a gasp, the pressure sending sparks through her core.

Harmony chuckled wryly, swirling her glass. "Generous is one word for it. I took a peak at your beach-side adventure—" Mairin had stiffened, her fist balling up in anger, so Illusiana hastily pivoted with, "just a moment or so to make sure everything was copacetic." Her tone was sill teasing about the humiliation that she'd, albeit briefly, eavesdropped on. Mairin met her eyes, a spark of defiance mixing with the heat in her belly.

Valerie gestured to her bodyguard with a wine glass, and gently chided, "Dear lover, that was entirely inappropriate of you to do, and even more so to mention in company."

Harmony cheeks flushed at the criticism breaking off eye contact, "Of course, my Contessa."

Valerie then took a long sip of the wine while appraising her escort, swallowed, and then said, "Apologize to Mairin, or no desert for you."

A flicker of shame crossed bodyguard's face, "Mairin, I am terribly sorry about my appalling behavior, just now and earlier this afternoon," Harmony sounded contrite, even acted so, but Mairin knew from experience that Illusiana was a very good liar.

Valerie cleared her threat, drawing Harmony's attention back on her, "As you are here, I take it you handled the interloper,"

"Yes, Contessa."

Cryptically, Valerie followed-up with "And are they able to join us later this evening or are they put down for the night."

"They will be ready. I will see to it after dinner."

"Good girl." Valerie purred and that praise triggered a deepening blush in Harmony's cheeks.

The androgynous guest, who Mairin now learned was known as Dr. Indigo, leaned over to Mairin and added smoothly, "We all have our ways of unwinding. Valerie's parties are legendary for that."

Dessert was a decadent affair: chocolate torte layered with chili-infused ganache, melting on the tongue like sin. By now, Valerie's hand had grown bolder, two fingers sliding inside the panties to part Mairin's folds, stroking the slick entrance without mercy. Mairin gripped the tablecloth, her pussy clenching around the intrusion, breaths coming in shallow pants masked as laughter at the guests' banter. The wine had her head swimming, romance blooming in Valerie's occasional kisses to her temple, contrasted by the filthy promise of her touch.

As plates cleared, Valerie stood, signaling the shift. "Shall we adjourn to the lounge? Mairin has a gift for performance." The guests rose, leading the way to an adjoining room where plush divans circled a sunken fire pit, flames dancing in iridescent blues from some engineered crystal. Mairin was guided to a central ottoman, the dress's skirt fanning out around her like a sapphire sea. Valerie knelt beside her, whispering, "Show them how you yield, darling. Just like on the beach." and then she slowly pulled the hem of Mairin's dress up, exposing her core of femininity, and even behind the thin veil of satin, it was damp and engorged from Valerie's dinner ministrations.

The guests all took a breath in, drinking in the site. Mairin shuddered, and her heart began to race. She looked to Valerie whose own amethyst eyes took on a wicked glean. Unlike the beach, there was no influence in the heroines mind. It was clear that her next choice would be entirely her own. Slowly, tentatively, Mairin opened her legs, giving an invitation to the three guest.