Something of a bit of fun this time on the Tale … Things need to be made clean, or at least somewhat cleaner, when they become … dirty. In the Realm this can, on occasion, mean that one needs to do some …
One would expect that in the Realm, in a place where magic exists to do, really, almost anything one might want to, that there wouldn’t be much of a need for washing clothing. Why bother? One could wave their fingers and create out of thin air the most complex, or for that matter, the simplest of garments and when they were soiled or damaged, then it wouldn’t be more than a thought to bring them to be new once more.
But the thing is, magic, though a very useful thing, isn’t always the best of choices. It would be, for example, a terrible thing to have one’s clothing vanish into a puff of thin air at an inopportune moment—not that some of those in the realm would really mind if that happened, of course. More so, imagine if there was a certain piece of clothing that held with it treasured memories, ones that could not be felt from the wisps of magic that might make up some design created in one’s mind and given form through magical means.
This, then, was the reason for, and gave meaning to, the existence in the Realm of a shop known throughout the Realm as “Ilka’s.” It was the single place in the entire Realm where one could take their cherished ensembles and they would be returned in immaculate condition. It also provided for Angelika, the owner of the shop that didn’t quite bear her name, something of an outlet for her fantasies.
Angelika, a purple-eyed green-tail, had something of a terrible clothing fetish, and her little shop only served to feed that fetish over and over again. It wasn’t really a secret that Angelika’s eyes grew so very large when one of the succubi or incubi of the Realm appeared with a cherished fabric to place into her care. The delight was palpable as her fingers caressed the cloth and she nibbled a green lip in barely held back erotic wonder.
But in all of the Realm, there was a single item which Angelika’s desires made into a fantasy that never left her thoughts: a certain deep black dress trimmed in red possessed by but one red-tail; a dress known to all as the SuccuDress. But, to Angelika, it was so much more.
She’d seen Tera being caressed by it’s wonder in person. How captivating were the images of the perfect black against the Queen’s tanned skin and red tail, images which made Angelika shiver, fingers teasing herself as she attempted to overcome the need of her fetish that pushed her over and over again. She had even gone so far as to find every picture taken at every angle imaginable, plastering them all over a space in her shop where only she would see. Drifting off in the midst of caring for one garment or another, lost in the fantasy of being in possession of the need that burned within her, was almost a given.
It had been a quiet day, mostly spent in allowing her charges to be retrieved by their owners, taken from her possession. Feeling a bit lonely, she had curled up with the images of her obsession and began sinking into her dreams once more. In the midst of one particularly erotic fantasy, she was shaken from her daze by the ringing of the front door bell. She ran one green-tipped hand through her hair as she made herself presentable before appearing at the front counter to greet her visitor … and found herself unable to breathe. There, waiting for her, was Tera! And she was wearing the dress of Angelika’s dreams and carrying a large, red box tied with a black ribbon.
Angelika was at a loss for words, being unable to overcome Tera’s bemused smile or the sparkle in her so-green eyes. The tossing of the Queen’s hair over one shoulder to reveal that little bit more of the dress was enough to bring a whimper of need from her lips. It was a good thing the counter separated Angelika and her desire, mainly so she had something to hold onto as Tera placed the box in front of her: “I have a … gift … for you, Angelika.”
The red of the box held her attention, but she did not trust herself to speak.
“I know how much you love … no … need and desire.”
Purple eyes rose from red packaging towards so-green eyes.
“I … know.”
Angelika’s eyes filled with tears as Tera reached out with her gloved hand, cupping the green-tail’s cheek. In that moment, Angelika truly understood the meaning of the dress, what power it held, and she wept in shame of her desires.
The Queen’s words were of comfort: “Angelika … there is no shame in desire. He would not want that fire within you to end.” Angelika found her hands guided to the box, being placed upon the bright red and so-deep black. “My …”, Tera’s smile was wan as the memories came. “… Evil Dragon’s talents are immense and unending. I know you will cherish them as I do.” She took a step back, turning to leave, but paused as she approached the door, looking over her shoulder: “Embrace your desires, Angelika, and make them yours.”
Her smile was that bit more bemused: “I’d usually say ‘why not?’ but … you’ll understand.”
The box awaited her as Tera left. Angelika just stood there, her hands still resting where Tera had placed them. She could have ripped the box open, seen what awaited her in an instant, but her desire demanded that she give proper respect to the gift given. She’d managed to resist the temptation until the day had passed and she had returned to her home above the shop.
The black ribbon came loose with two fingers, the top pulled away as easily. She’d expected the black trimmed with red, but what greeted her was so much more. Green, so much green, shimmering green scales of breathtaking wonder trimmed with the barest edge of purple and, beneath that, against her skin, would be the black that Angelika had craved. It wasn’t the dress of her desires; it was the dress her soul needed most of all.
The gift was perfectly moulded against her curves. She felt the fabric teasing her from her now-damp sex to the ache in her breasts, which felt like they were being licked. Bare shouldered, the style made the flush of her skin so very clear, as there wasn’t a part of her that the dress didn’t bring a quiver of delight. There were no long gloves—the style didn’t need them—but the Evil Dragon had been kind to include a pair of heels just as green and just as perfect.
The dress of legend couldn’t be duplicated or copied, but in this dress there was a reflection of the dragon himself, a glimpse of the textures and power drawn from temptation and seduction. A dress of deep green made with dragon scale and the breath of fire.
It was, always, the gift given from the soul of a dragon never-ending, the gift shared by the love which the Queen of the Succubi has for all her daughters.