First Assignment For The Bureau Of Extra Normal Af free porn video

Now that She had finally been accepted into the ranks of the Bureau, oddly the days began to drag for Rachel.
The whirlwind days of Her training when She had barely had a spare minute to Herself had been exhilarating and always with the possibility that Rowena or Redmayne might have manipulated Her schedule simply because they wanted Her. Now though She had passed beyond training and as such all of Her teachers; the dull lifeless ones as well as the ones who fascinated and were adored by Her, were for the most part no longer part of Her day. This was the dull limbo period that all new agents had to suffer through. To them it was proof that the bureaucracy that kept them inactive, was as bad if not worse here than in most other organisations or businesses. While they gritted their teeth and diligently copied out yet another copy of the standard protection ward, tried to remain awake whilst engaged in desert dry research or any one of perhaps fifty other such dull tasks, unbeknownst to them their ability to cope with this dull repetitiveness was always monitored. For, this was the very final phase of their training.
It cannot be denied that the one thing that agents of the Bureau had in common was a hatred of inactivity or dull repetitive tasks, indeed in many a case it was the excitement even danger of the role that had attracted them in the first place. Equally though, however much they might be a fire eater it was important that they could when necessary just do nothing like a normal person and not draw undue attention to themselves. If a newly inducted agent was too quick to complain of dissatisfaction with their new schedule or worse yet of "boredom", questions would be asked about their suitability. Though Rowena very much wanted to warn Rachel this was the case She had been told in no uncertain terms that She must not, so held Her tongue and instead distracted Herself by some sparring with Redmayne.
Day followed dull day, which became a dull week. The most entertaining time being a day spent in the alchemy/ chemical department carefully mixing the various reactive substances to create vomit grenades (Delicate glass globes which some agents had dubbed "bad eggs", filled with a roiling, swirling liquid of lurid verdant hue which if broken and the resultant gas inhaled would in most cases cause violent projectile vomiting.). Rachel almost had an accident whilst cataloguing some artefacts which had recently been returned from Egypt when She dropped a lapis shabti, but thankfully it did not break. This though was the only real excitement in her first few days as an agent. If She had been counting them - which She was most furiously not - She would have known that She had been an agent for thirteen days (Which was the traditional length of this inactivity test, though no-one could explain or remember exactly why this was the case.) before She was given Her first assignment. Though experienced agents would often act alone in the field, new agents always went out on their first few operations in cohort with at least one more experienced, though not necessarily older compatriot.
So it was on the f******nth day of Her career as an agent of the Bureau of Extra Normal affairs that Rachel finally received notification to report for assignment to the diplomatic section head's office. To Her delight on politely knocking and being asked to enter it was to find both Rowena and Redmayne already seated and chatting amicably to Buckland Caldwell the bewhiskered department head. Rachel tried very hard not to show her delight on seeing them, Caldwell did not notice Her slight smile or the subtle quickening of Her breath, but both the agents did and shared an amused glance.
"Good morning agent, it pleases me to see that You arrived promptly, I think You'll be familiar with agents Hillyer and Redmayne, if not I would certainly hope that you'll all get along swimmingly." Caldewell's voice was resonant and rich and his smile seemed warm and genuine.
"Rowena, Mortimer I doubt it will have escaped your attention that the Seelie Court's vernal ball approaches, we have again received an invitation and you three will attend and renew our embassy. Do try to behave yourselves, the last thing we need is a diplomatic incident with the Fay, again..." Here he pointedly stared at Redmayne and raised his left eyebrow, Mortimer though didn't react and innocently asked;
"Are we aware that any other agencies or elements may also be in attendance, and if so do standard rules of engagement still apply?"
"No Redmayne! You know as well as anyone" (Another stare that Mortimer ignored) "that the Court is neutral ground. Do not, I repeat; do not act in the manner of anything except an agent and a gentleman. Behave yourself. We can though assume that at the very least the Jade Throne and the Clockwork Guild will also be sending representatives. Do try not to antagonise anyone, you'll just be there in an official capacity to formally renew our embassy and improve relations if possible between the Empire and the Court. However, if the opportunity to safely engage in a little intelligence gathering presents itself I'm sure you know what to do. Now Rowena take our new agent down to the outfitting section; standard faerie preventative measures, Redmayne you can wear your dress sword and Armaments have something else for you but don't use either unless it's unavoidable. You're dismissed, good luck."

The outfitting section would by many a fashion conscious young woman, and not a few young men be considered a veritable Aladdin’s cave. Though in the course of their duties agents of the Bureau might be called upon to don many guises, generally it was expected of them – though it was not in actuality official policy – to be dressed conservatively and smartly. However, so that they might easily merge into any social engagement; from beers after work of a Friday night at the local gin palace to a night at the opera entertaining minor royalty, the wardrobe to which they had access was to the say the least extensive. There were also on permanent staff a small team of discrete seamstresses and tailors who could with supreme rapidity create or adapt something that was already available.

Though Rowena would never have admitted it She was almost excited as Rachel – who had never yet visited the outfitting section – to be doing so, She had been friendly with the outfitting staff from the first time She’d met them and they were just as fond of Her. On two occasions now Rowena had been warned about using the Bureau’s tailors to create sumptuous and somewhat immodest costumes which clearly only She would ever use. These warnings though fell on all but deaf ears, and if the artisans who made them enjoyed doing so as well as imagining Her in them where was the harm?
Both the young women though enjoyed the prospect of dressing for a faerie ball…

It was a source of some debate in the research section as to why “standard faerie preventative measures” were as effective as experience had proved them to be. As was often the case these had come from folklore and fairy tale, so whilst they were somewhat ridiculous Rowena knew better than to ignore them. There was the additional bonus though that She could delight in the spectacle of Rachel undressing completely before assisting Her on with them.
The first preventative measure was simply a length of red ribbon, which some opined was only actually effective against the Irish fey in particular leprechauns but was officially part of the preventatives. Rowena took much care in wrapping this about Rachel’s generous bosom, perhaps somewhat tighter than was strictly necessary before having the younger girl do the same to Her. The second preventative was just as frivolous but more easily accomplished alone, simply being the expedient of wearing an article of clothing inside out. So, the chemises that both girls would wear beneath their corsetry were both reversed prior to their donning them. Rachel’s corset was just a little uncomfortable, since being so new there was nothing bespoke for Her, but Rowena had several alternatives, choosing one in ivory silk which concealed a thin steel bodkin in place of one of the stays.
The final preventative - which would prove to be the most uncomfortable expedient where it not for the on staff cobblers who made provision – was a cold iron nail slipped into the left shoe before putting it on.

Rachel was very aware that it would be unseemly to linger in outfitting for too long though the temptation to do so was very strong. There were rack upon rack of sumptuous dresses in every cloth and of every hue, the thought crossed Her mind to try and get assigned here for a few days at some point in the future. (She would though be disappointed; requests for work detail in Outfitting were now always denied after Accounting had identified several mysterious holes in the inventory during the last yearly stock take.) She was still considering this when She emerged wearing a rather decadently sleeveless scarlet chiffon gown with an immodestly tight bodice. It felt light as smoke and would be easy to move, dance even fight in if it were necessary.
She was still admiring herself in a couple of the plethora of full length mirrors with two of the dressers fussing at a feather fascinator in her intricately piled up hair when Rowena too appeared. The emerald green gown She wore was somewhat more conservative, covering as it did Her arms, it was though very tight and as such the older girl’s sublime figure was still very evident. The tightness and weight of it might prove confining if rapid movement were required, but Rowena had been sure to pick something that the dress could be easily removed from at just the pull of a concealed tape.
They met Redmayne as they waited for the carriage to take them on to the embassy, he was in his naval dress uniform, or at least a slightly altered version of it which was tighter than necessary but as a result of which showed off his buttocks very nicely. The smallsword at his waist was not entirely regulation either but to the casual glance of anyone except an expert swordsmith it would seem so. This particular weapon had saved him on more than one mission for the Bureau and he wielded it with the consummate skill of someone not only long practiced in its use, but also with the confidence of a born warrior. There was also the merest bulge in the otherwise fine lines of his attire which covered a tiny little American “derringer”, a little pistol that looked for all the world like a toy, but which was loaded with two rounds of an impressively large calibre. He bowed sharply over his right arm and clicked his heels together in the Prussian manner, an amused but slightly devilish grin across his face on seeing his company for the evening.
They did not have to wait long thankfully, for it was not a night to be abroad on dressed just in evening attire. Their conveyance itself was one of the fleet maintained by the Bureau and as such was exceedingly well appointed, it was sturdily made and they knew its driver could be relied upon for his discretion. In the cosy warmth of the interior – all green leather and walnut veneer –with neat little charcoal burning foot warmers for added comfort they discussed what the evening might have in store. It came as quite a surprise to Rachel to discover that the faerie court was perhaps the most decadent collection of society note worthies in the city. She was rather shocked in fact on being told that what Cavendish had referred to as “maintaining our embassy” in the throw way manner of the petty bureaucrat was likely to involve the sort of activities normally reserved for the bedroom and markedly fewer clothes than one would expect for a normal night out.
Claire rather sensibly asked why then the need for Redmayne’s sword and Rowena’s bodkin, to be told that the other agencies who might well be in attendance could make trouble. The Unseelie court (Or dark faeries) as well as the Clockwork Guild (A loose collective of anarchists, unsavoury cultists and sociopathic inventors) and not a few of the other European Powers would be represented. Whilst the court was supposedly neutral ground and thus exempt from conflict or espionage it always paid to be careful when dealing with the Fay. Even the “good” faeries of the Seelie Court could be mischievous bordering on malicious and uncaring to the point of malevolence, and they were positively angelic when compared to the Unseelie Court… Despite all this Rachel was looking forward to Her first full assignment with great excitement and only a little terror.

Though the official address for the Seelie Embassy was on Piccadilly, just off Green Park, this physical location was only half of where it actually resided. The realm the Faeries inhabit is only approximately within the borders of Great Britain. It occupies a place beside it but altogether elsewhere, like Hy Brasil; only accessible to all (Rather than just faeries) at very specific times of the year. Tonight - the evening of Lughnasadh - was one such time, and this window of accessibility lasted merely hours. Indeed there were rumours that several human visitors to the summer ball who had been distracted by the incandescence of the place had never actually returned…

Once through the false frontage on the street there was nothing to see save for a small twee little cottage (which was the physical locale to which mail could be directed.)with dog roses climbing its walls on a tiny plot of rough ground. It looked almost boringly normal except for the strange but distinct opalescence to the air. Once their invitations had been checked by a uniformed and impossibly handsome faerie in a tight brocade tail coat they were ushered forward. With a pop and the scent of sage they found themselves entirely elsewhere…
Now they found themselves in a cavernous entrance hall; whose walls rose confidently high enough to be lost in the darkness above without the ceiling being illumined. The air was cleaner here, not tainted by the sooty tickle of London’s; this was the bright fresh air of the glens and lochs where the faeries were most at home. Ahead of them was a thin snaking line of other guests waiting with as much patience as they could muster to be announced and thus progress beyond the honour guard of tall straight backed faerie guardsmen into the ballroom proper. Their silver armour burnished mirror bright and reflecting the gentle dancing flames of the plethora of candles that provided a warm friendly illumination to the evening. (The next day it would occur to Rachel that never once had She seen anyone attending or replacing these, and since they left in the small hours of the morning they must have been burning for at least six hours.) Once they had finally passed through the guard up the wide welcoming staircase they still had to wait for entry in another line which had formed before a pair of tall oddly dressed faeries. They had dark robes, unusually shaven heads which only served to enhance the pointiness of their ears the tops of which poked above white silken blindfolds. Emblazoned upon these was the image of an eye stitched in gold wire the pupil at the centre of which were fiery black opals.
“Psionicists” Rowena whispered to Rachel;
“Clear Your mind of any thoughts of the Bureau, think something whimsical or enjoyable until we’re inside and passed them.”
Just ahead of them a short oriental gentleman in a dinner suit and top hat was passing between the blindfolded faeries. A clear baritone voice which was almost laughter announced;
“Lue Mei, ambassador to the Jade Throne, holder of the order of Confucius and advisor to the dowager Empress Xiao Zheyi” and the little man swept through the double doors. There was a snatched instant of the frothy babble of party conversation as a tall blonde woman with androgynous features and a severe short mannish coiffure who was dressed in male attire, (Her right arm replaced by a bulky replacement of brass and steel) objected when She was asked to surrender Her firearms. After some raised voice disagreement she finally handed up a cut down shot gun and a large angry looking revolver.
“Dammit” murmured Redmayne. “Distract them if You can Ro dear, I’ll feel much better if I still have this pistol when I’m inside, even if it is a damned American pop gun.”
The herald continued with; “Anya Siggisdottir, representative of the Clockwork Guild” and the tall Valkyrie like woman strode into the hall with a scowl. The only people now ahead of them were the Austro-Hungarian ambassador and his wife who were allowed entry and announced with no problems. Rowena whispered again;
“Concentrate on the last time You were with Redmayne and I and of the enjoyment we shared…”
It was Rowena’s intent that the psionicists should not be aware of the concealed weapons that both She and Redmayne carried. Since Rachel though was also privy to this information it was necessary for Her to concentrate on something else, something which would occupy all Her thoughts. Rachel found it all too easy for Her thoughts to wing their way back to the night before’s distractions and just doing so brought a smile to Her lips and a delightful blush to Her cheeks. Rowena and Redmayne too recalled the same knowing full well that with all three of them doing so no hint of their secrets would be found. With Her head full of the fascinating form of Rowena and Redmayne’s tender – and not so tender – mercies She did not even register the psionicist’s gentle stroking of Her thoughts. Nor was he able to find any reference to weapons, concealed or otherwise, indeed it took him a considerable force of will to pull his own attention away and return to his assignment…
On being permitted forward it was to Rachel’s delight that She found the ball room was no room at all but a clearing in what must have been a vast forest, overhead the branches of trees of impossible age and height combined to form an arbour. A dance floor though of dark shining wood was laid out perfectly smoothly across the glade and around this, elegant tables of a still darker wood supported platters of the finest faerie victuals and delicate crystal carafes of liquors of every hue. Little lights like trapped fire flies danced through the branches of the trees as well as overhead to illumine this, the most gracious of spaces Rachel had ever seen. Off to their right as they entered, the space was open to the sky and rose to a promontory where the most elegantly dressed of the throng of peoples here were gathered. From an indeterminate direction – presumably hidden somewhere in the trees – a hugely talented little ensemble played a soft Paso Doble, few here were dancing though for it seemed most here had attended to negotiate rather than for entertainment.
At first Rachel’s senses were all but overcome; no-one had prepared Her for the delights of the faerie realm; everything She saw, heard or even smelt was fuller, brighter and more complete than anything She had ever experienced before. She did not know where to look for everything that caught Her eye was worthy of Her full attention, yet there was so much to see nothing caught it for more than a moment She wasn’t aware how long Rowena had been caressing Her shoulder, but by the amused grin it must have been a while. Still smiling the elder girl leaned in to whisper;
“You should be aware that the food and especially the drink here is very powerful, being as it is imbued with the magic of this place. Do not eat anything – wanting to “watch one’s figure” is an entirely valid excuse – and limit Yourself to one drink, even if You think it is non-alcoholic, it may well have unexpected effects. Do not take this warning lightly, I mean it absolutely. It’s very easy to lose one’s head entirely here.”
Now not a little apprehensive Rachel nodded and whispered;
“I shall be very careful, should we stay together or am I at liberty to mingle?”
“I’d prefer You to stay with either Redmayne or I but I shan’t make it an order, as long as You are careful You may do as You please, one of us will find You if we need to leave, but when we say so we mean it. There will be no ‘just one more dance’, are we agreed?”
Rachel nodded again; but Her attention was now almost entirely upon a tall svelte male faerie with ebony black hair in a ponytail to his waist. Dressed in a tight chestnut uniform which was at the once the epitome of human couture but yet simultaneously somehow also informal even, casual. He was dancing with the Austro-Hungarian ambassador, no-one seemed though at all surprised or concerned by this and both of them were obviously happy even buoyant as they swept with some grace through the throng of other dancers. Her gaze followed the pair till the end of the dance, their skill and obvious pleasure pleased Her and raised a subtle little smile enhancing the already not slight beauty of Her face.
Shaking Her head slightly She moved off to explore the refreshments, on reaching the nearest of the tables at the edge of the room She was confronted by a bewildering array of the lightest and most delicate amuse bouche, petite fours and tartlets which delighted Her eyes and set Her mouth to watering. She did not though note anything that seemed likely to be either meat or fish, deciding to try one - despite Rowena’s warning – She was now faced with the dilemma of which. Trying to gauge the quality of any particular dish by considering the reaction of those who had partaken was pointless. Every morsel eaten seemed to illicit a response in the consumer that was almost orgasmic so none seemed more or less desirable than the rest. She was reaching to pick up a little pastry with a filling so intensely red as to sparkle like a ruby, when a hand that was all too familiar (From all those times it had beaten upon the soft hemispheres of Her arse or invaded with expert skill Her most intimate places) caught Her wrist and Redmayne’s rich familiar voice gently admonishing;
“Don’t, You really will regret it.” This familiar face was kind and smiling (She hoped very much that this meant he would not tell Rowena that She had ignored Her instructions.) but his grip was insistent and She let it lead Her onto the floor. They danced only once. Though in the future She would not recall the step or the music, She would always know though in Her heart of hearts that it had been the most elegant and thoroughly pleasing dance She had ever had. Whilst She was lost in it, She would feel closer to him and more intimately than She had ever felt him before even during his lessons. It was as though Her female and his male were joined in a whole that utterly completed both and left Her panting and damply fulfilled, shuddering with the ecstasy of their closeness. His smile and somehow rakish bow to Her when the music ended left Her with no doubt – had there already been any – that She was now his.
Though he whispered that there was someone She should meet, first She had to sit, catch Her breath and compose Herself a while…
When She had recovered again Rachel found that both Rowena and Redmayne were waiting with Her, neither seemed angry though so perhaps he had not mentioned the flirtation with the pastries… Noting that She was composed again Redmayne said with an amused little smirk;
“Come, we go to meet the queen.” Arm in arm the three of them skirted the dance floor and moved toward the rising promontory and as they climbed higher the throng of people on it thinned and parted for them, as they drew ever nearer curtains of filmy gauze through which slow movements could just be made out. Almost now to this thin barrier Rachel was startled to hear the subtle sounds of physical pleasure; rapid breath, the rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh and long languid moans of pleasure form male as well as female throats.
“You should know” whispered Rowena “the court is a good deal less formal than anything in our world. Enjoy Yourself, You won’t forget this anytime soon…” Rachel could almost hear the grin in Her voice, and somewhat baffled stepped through the veils that Redmayne had parted to allow their entry.
The sight which confronted Her brought a blush to Her throat and cheek and a gasp to Her lips; for here on sumptuous cushions and carpets cavorted many of the fay and a select few of their human guests. At the centre of it all lounged a strikingly desirable woman who must be the queen attended by a bevy of younger faerie maids who moved slowly over her naked form giving her a complete and intimate tongue bath. This was entirely to her delight; if the contented look upon her face was anything to go by. Rachel again did not know where to look. Everywhere beyond the veil was a scene of debauching and pleasure; the Ambassador was intently sucking on the rod of his male dance partner, Lue Mei of the Jade throne was working away efficiently between the thighs of a svelte elfin girl who squealed with delight all amidst a throng of the faeries who continued with the lustful embraces and couplings as though this were the most normal thing in the world, and perhaps it was in theirs…
The Ambassador’s wife though who had found a young faerie soldier of her own with whom to dance seemed much more interested in the activities of Her husband however for her gaze was very much upon him. Anya Siggisdottir - the mannish Norse Valkyrie - alone amongst the humans here seemed uninterested in the spectacle of the faerie debauching since her gaze flew to Rachel as soon as She arrived and rested steadily upon Her. For Her part the new Bureau agent was still staring wide eyed and breathing heavily as an all too familiar warmth sprang to Her loins, so was unaware of the attention She was attracting. Until the Valkyrie, with surprising grace and stealth for so tall a person and for one who carried so weighty a burden as the replacement arm appeared before Her.
Rowena and Redmayne both had been prepared for the scene they would find behind the curtain and so were looking about with mildly critical eyes. Each of them found something to distract or stimulate but after a few moments moved toward one another and started the familiar almost dance like movements of disrobing the other, before slipping away to reacquaint themselves with familiar yet entirely cherished flesh. This left Rachel alone with Anya, who with a slight puff of steam and creaking of pistons extended her massive metal arm; the fingers unfolding slowly from a fist before uttering a single word order;
“Com.”
Rachel looked about but the two people here who could have reassured or ordered Her to remain were busy with each other. Determined not to disgrace the Bureau and to be brave She nodded silently and followed in the wake of the striking Scandinavian woman as the crowd – however busy it was – parted before her. Once they reached an area where there was sufficient space to lie down the taciturn Valkyrie gave another curt order;
“Your close; remove zem.”
Rachel gasped, though She had been aware that something like this might be expected of Her here this evening, to have it stated in so straightforward a manner was still shocking. Even so without hesitation She moved to do so as demurely as She was able, the Valkyrie though prepared in her own way; stripping off the one armed uniform jacket with an extra row of buttons at the right side to allow its removal without having to try and pull it over the mass of the metal arm. She also kicked off her boots so that she stood in just a tight chemise and britches both sufficiently tight to confirm she wore no underwear. She fished a small spanner with her good arm from the inside pocket of her discarded jacket before releasing small nuts on the back of the metal hand which freed the steel tendons of the thick fingers which snapped back into the arm itself. Sitting down she braced it between her knees and then unscrewed the now static hand; this revealed a void from within which with a whiff of hot engine oil and a slight grinding of gears appeared a blunt tipped nobbled brass rod of perhaps a foot in length…
By now Rachel was naked, self-consciously trying to cover Her modesty with Her arms (Though Her body was easily the equal of any here.) from the stranger before Her.
“Lie down, zbred your legs”
Came the next curt order, Rachel did so lying on the soft rugs spread all across the floor. With a metallic shriek the brass rod began to pistoning in and out of the bulky metal arm as little puffs of steam again appeared behind the Valkyrie. Slowly at first, but with increasing speed she brandished it in front of Her and with a predatory smile said in a softer throatier voice;
“You’ll enjoy zis…”
She squatted betwixt Rachel’s legs and with her flesh and blood hand reached for the charming cunt there and with surprisingly tender touches began to stroke and fondle it in preparation for a more mechanical invasion… As Rachel’s arousal increased She shut Her eyes for fear of the rod but Her breathing quickened and Her flesh loosened and moistened. All of which was noted with pleasure by Anya. It was not until though her manipulations were greeted by the involuntary movements of Claire’s body to meet her touch that she knew it was time to apply the brass piston…
It was hot and slick with oil and it creaked hungrily as it touched Her cunt for the first time, She had to bite Her lip to stifle a scream. It was insistent, constant, uncaring, thrusting and thrusting over and again, so forceful it began to push Her away until the Valkyrie with her good arm pressed her hand down to Rachel’s belly to pinion Her in place.
On and on, in and out, in and out. The heat, the rigidity, the literal mechanicalness of it. It was so wide and the nobbles upon it made it still more so even with the sheen of oil upon it Her very flesh protested at the invasion. The Valkyrie though looked on, eyes wide and laughed with a male exuberance, relishing Rachel’s ravishment.
Despite the wonders of the locale and all the strange new and arousing sights and sounds which had flooded Her senses since She arrived Rachel’s universe shrank. All that was now within it were Anya, Herself and the irresistible intrusive phallus filling Her so completely. Despite the heat of it and the pain of its attention She was too overcome even to cry out, Her eyes were uncomfortably wide, Her mouth stretched around the largest O it could form and Her breath came in little gasps in time to the thrust of the rod. She was lost to and overwhelmed by the feelings it instilled in Her. As Anya’s chuckles became louder and throatier and the speed of the terrible rod and the heat of it increased. Rachel’s gasps morphed into a single keening wail somewhere on the very knife edge between ecstasy and agony.
Unbeknownst to Her the noise She made had proved sufficient to distract not a few of the host debauching about Her and now a ring of aroused semi or fully naked faeries crowded about to witness Her plight. Rowena’s ears pricked up to the now well-known cry and even despite Redmayne’s ardent efforts at Her rear She stilled and directed his attention to them. Smiling to one another they too (He now in just his shirt – his sticky arousal bobbing comically before him – and She only in Her stockings, chemise and corset.) moved to join the growing crowd about Rachel and the Valkyrie.

The Austro-Hungarian Ambassador was still busy with his buck, so much so he had not noted the approach of his still fully clothed wife which in this company made her seem out of place, even alien. Her face was beautifully serene but her eyes burned emerald with jealousy… No-one except Rowena noticed as with an abrupt unnatural twist of Her shoulder a shiny little blade appeared from her sleeve in her pale hand, as she was raising Her arm to throw the well-honed instincts of the Bureau agent saw Rowena clawing at Her corset to remove Her own blade as she shouted;
“Redmayne; your four o’clock.”
Their long and intimate association meant that with barely a instant’s hesitation he reached beneath his shirt to draw the little derringer and twisting painfully on his ankle he span to aim at the petite little Austrian woman.
Almost simultaneously as his shot took her in the knee Rowena’s knife found her shoulder; preventing the attack upon the faerie who was evidently the target of her ire. The report of the shot was stunningly loud and all that filled the silence that followed it was Rachel’s ragged shriek as She crested the summit of Her pleasure.

The next few moments were a blur; Rowena’s remembrance was clouded somehow, just snippets came back to Her after the event: Pale flesh of the multitude of faeries slipping away, an honour guard in shining armour surrounding and escorting the Ambassador’s wife elsewhere, the shocked little man himself – still disrobed – falling at Her feet in abject and profuse thanks. Standing in just corset and stockings as the queen - still regal though naked and glistening with the saliva of her handmaids - approached them. In a voice echoing with tiny bells she said;
“Thank You, my son and heir means everything to me; it was unfortunate it seems he also proves so to Ludwig. Since You saved my son’s life I shall not even ask why You came armed to my hall for I am glad You did. Now though we are faced with a difficult situation. Whilst I am honour bound to You for Your actions, You also drew blood on Faerie soil. For the first I can assure Your Empire’s embassy is secure for as long as my son or myself reign here, but for the second I must also banish You never to return.”
Redmayne and Rowena nodded in understanding and thanks, both having feared that the repercussions would be much, much worse. They stood reverently silent assuming correctly that the queen was not yet finished.
“I do though want You to know that however personally indebted to You I feel I cannot (Even though I should and would like to.) decorate You or even offer financial reward. On this; the last night that You will spend here though, I will reward not only You both but You fine young companion (Who’s sweet face currently serves as throne to our strapping Norse guest, much to her delight.) too and I hope the memory of the night You’ll spend will stay with You always.”

Though both their memories through long study were as good as any human’s neither Redmayne nor Rowena could ever recall anything between these words and waking together in seclusion with Rachel. On waking all of them - on discussing the events later – said they’d experienced the sensation of a multitude of electric kisses across their skin and a slight stupor and euphoria before realising they’d been changed…

Faerie magic – usually referred to as glamour – is of immense strength but great subtlety and almost never lasts for more than a single day or night.

For the rest of the evening the close relationship the three of them had tempered with their mutual joy and pain was turned upon its head. Rowena and Rachel found that their ample and tight chests had flattened and the voids at their loins had filled and extended… There was hair upon their chins and lips and their bodies had filled out with more muscle mass than they’d ever known. Redmayne though had shrunk somewhat in height, his chest had swelled and the rigidity between his legs had retracted inward… The queen’s glamour had reversed their sexes and magnified their already great desire for the others.
When next they woke after a full day’s worth of sleep, each – especially Redmayne – would ache in ways they never had before. Never before in the presence of their little triptych had any one of them exhibited the slightest embarrassment in the others’ company. Today though on waking together in a graceless fleshy heap quite themselves again, all of them were blushing (Redmayne especially hard.) but smiling as wide as they ever had…