This Ceremony was Much Shorter
French breeding — but- “Hold your tongue.”
- some grade Z porno film
- various techniques and “octopus etiquette”
- without all the fanfare
Tune in next time part 323 Click Here for Earlier Installments
This ceremony was much shorter than the one when I’d married Fleur, much to my relief. Isolde locked the door behind the officiant and turned to me. “I have seen several illicit magazines and movies about French breeding — but I’d much rather employ the American method if you don’t mind, Harry.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I said, doffing my top hat.
Isolde shrugged out of her ceremonial robe and arranged it on the floor under a large vulture skull. We stood upon it together while she, gloriously naked, undressed me. It felt a little odd to be continuously called ‘Harry,’ but no odder than anything else about Contrarian court life. If this was how the Warlord’s daughters wanted to conduct their marriages, there was no point in arguing.
“Open your mouth,” Isolde commanded.
I complied. She peered in at my fresh, golden tattoo.
“Hold your tongue.” She demonstrated with her own fingers how she wanted me to grasp it. I took over, and she studied the arcane markings for a minute. Then she swatted my hand away and kissed me.
We sank to the floor on top of the robe, and got down to the business of consummating-by-proxy Isolde and Harry’s marriage. The freeform jazz record was still playing, which made it feel like some grade Z porno film. That feeling only got stronger when Isolde introduced various techniques and “octopus etiquette” moves she had learned from the Contrarian version of the Kama Sutra, and Fleur’s browser history. It was physically taxing, but I was having a great time without all the fanfare and press attention that had accompanied my wedding night with Fleur.
bonus points for using them in order