Damon shook his head as the maid looked at him. "Thank you, but I'll be fine."
"Very well, sir. Take care." She bobbed her head and went on her way. Damon watched her walk away, the slight wag of her tail momentarily fascinating him -- together with the lissome sway of her step. After a minute he realised he was staring and turned away with a blush.
He wasn't ready to deal with people right now. He wanted to explore... but he didn't really know where. He just started walking, admiring the mix of grand stone and picturesque half-timbered façades.
Well, as much as he could. The pressure in his mind did not flare again, but neither did it go away. And he fell to thinking -- had his wish really been wise? Probably not, to be honest -- in retrospect, he was still kind of happy to be alive. So he was grateful the genie hadn't actually wiped him from existence. But now he was in a strange world and, while people seemed nicer here than back home, he had no real friends and a heavy responsibility as Prince he did not know how to deal with.
So without conscious thought, his feet led him into the River District. The houses and shops became more modest, and then were mostly replaced by inns, taverns, and whorehouses. The folk became less fancy in dress and stared more openly at the unusual sight of a noble walking alone. Not that they were hostile or even impolite, though some did seem to have an air of speculation, as if eyeing an easy mark.
But Damon was too abstracted to notice any of them. He did not realise where he had wandered, until his feet stopped in front of a building: an old, two-storied house that had been touched up with scarlet paint and gold trim. A sign hung over the porch showed a red lantern on one side and a pole on the other, framing the words "Red Rose Ladies'."
His stomach flipped. He knew what those symbols meant. But even more he knew this place. With another wave of nausea and headache he remembered Gerhard dragging him here a couple of times. The Red Rose Ladies' House was one of his philandering sibling's favourite brothels and dance halls, specialising in Beastwomen and even...
"Ugh." Once again he put his hand to his head, vainly trying to quell the throbbing.
"Hey." And again he was pulled out of his thoughts by a concerned voice, this time gruff and male. He looked over, and noticed for the first time a burly half-Orc leaning by the door with his arms folded. The staff propped next to him and the long dagger on his belt indicated a bouncer. "You doin' all right, sir?"
"I, um..." For a second Damon was actually thrown off by being addressed as "sir" by the older, stronger male. But of course, he was a prince -- and at least looked the part, even if this half-breed didn't know him. "I-I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind..."
The guard nodded. He heard that a lot. "Well, go on in. The girls'll help ease yer problems."
"Uh..." Damon hesitated a moment. He hadn't thought about it much, but had a vague belief that prostitution was wrong. On the other hand, he knew it was tolerated in his kingdom, although whores were still looked down on. Maybe that was why less "desirable" races -- Orcs and tieflings as well as Beastmen -- tended to be involved in it, though it ended up reinforcing negative stereotypes.
Oh what the Hell.
"R-Right." If his wish had been granted, he wouldn't even exist right now. What did the standards of either his old world or his new one matter? He made his way up the steps onto the porch, and nodded -- a bit shakily -- to the bouncer, then went inside.
Immediately he could smell a mix of perfume, alcohol, and an underlying aroma of sex. It made his head swim again -- but in a different, more pleasant way, and he felt a stirring in his underpants. Passing through a small foyer and cloak room, he entered a lounge with chairs, benches, a few tables and a bar. A few women, each with different animal features, sat on the benches. He blushed under their eyes, deciding to go straight to the bar. It was unmanned, but not for long: a tall, busty woman in a revealing blouse and bodice stepped out from an inner door.
"Good day, sir," she greeted with an almost motherly smile. "Welcome to my House. Looking for a drink to get you in the mood?"
For a moment all he could do was stare -- and not even at her chest. She had horns! And large bat-wings, with black fingers and red membranes, folded at her back. He almost blurted out a stupid question, but then calmed down a bit. She was, he knew, a tiefling -- he remembered her from "his" previous visits. Marie, the owner of the brothel, who also worked as bartender and prostitute herself.
And she was quite memorable even apart from her demonic traits. Long, bright red hair, sparkling green eyes, flawless lightly tanned skin, and of course... her bosom. And hips and thighs to match, as he recalled, though the bar kind of hid them at the moment.
Catching himself staring, Damon sighed and sank his head into his hands. "I don't know what I want," he confessed. "I..."
The madame made a sympathetic noise. "Well, my lord... wait. Would you mind showing me your face?"
Damon wasn't sure he wanted to be recognised, but he was too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply. He lowered his hands and lifted his head. The tiefling caught her breath.
"Why, it's Prince Damon! I thought I recognised you, though it's been a long time. What's troubling you, Your Highness?" She didn't say it, but Damon sensed that she was very surprised. Obviously she had picked up on the reluctance of "his" previous visits, and he hadn't been here since his brother's capture.
He rested his forehead back in his hand. "To be honest... I don't think you'd believe me if I told you..." The memories of another life were seriously starting to make him sick.
The tiefling shook her head. "I believe it's serious, whatever it is. True, I've heard many a tall tale from the rivermen, but that's why I'm here -- to listen. At the worst you'll have it off your chest."
"I don't know..." He sighed. "I kind of just want to forget my problems."
"Well, my lord." She grinned a bit. "I can do that too. Let me mix you a drink, then take you back to my room. I'm sure I can free your mind from your worries."
He nodded. He actually didn't even pick up on the clear meaning of the suggestion, he was too out of it. He dully watched her mix a drink, and began to sip from the glass she set before him.
It perked him up a bit -- sweet on his tongue, burning down his throat. He sputtered, but then took a deeper sip. Soon the glass was empty.
"Another?" he asked hopefully. Already his head was abuzz, his cares far distant. And Marie looked really appealing. Delicious. The ample mounds of her breasts, the just-visible sway of her hips as she moved behind the bar... his underpants were definitely stirring now.
"One more," she agreed with a laugh. She had it already mixed, and poured it into his glass. "But that's enough. Otherwise you'll be too drunk to enjoy what comes next."
"What comes next?" He drank down most of it in one long gulp this time.
In response, Marie slipped the puffy sleeves of her blouse off her shoulders, and loosened the ties on her bodice. "This," she teased, resting her hands on her half-exposed globes, long red-painted nails vivid against her flesh.
"Oh!" Damon's eyes widened. For a moment he felt a bit bashful. But a final gulp of the heady liquor flushed that out of his mind. He stood up, swayed, caught himself on the bar. "Yeeessh... P-Please, I mean, Miss Marie..."
Chuckling, she took his hand and half-led, half-supported him as she took him from the bar deeper into the brothel. Back into a private dance-room, a table and pole surrounded by chairs. She settled him into one of these, then went to work, unlacing his trousers and pulling them and his underpants down to let his penis spring out.
"There, Your Highness," she purred. "Doesn't it feel better to let yourself have a bit of freedom?" He nodded groggily as she stroked over his shaft.
Damn... this does feel good...
He watched with dreamy rapture as she stood and finished unlacing her bodice. Then, with a cute wiggle of her hips, she discarded her skirt, leaving her in nothing but silken panties. She fanned her wings out a bit, shivering Damon with a touch of fear at the demonic silhouette she presented. Then she climbed into his lap, giggling gently and teasing against his shaft with her pussy, separated by the thin fabric of her undergarment.
"So tell me, Your Highness, what it is that's made you come to me...?"
And he told her. He started off with the fairly safe topic of Marbury Manor and his fears about undertaking its management. But it did not stop there. Besotted with alcohol and lust, he gave no thought to what he was saying, just let the woman guide his tongue with her questions as she guided his body with her hands and hips.
"Ohhhh, you poor boy..."
What had he told her? How his brothers treated him? How his step-father hated him? How his girlfriend had dumped him? Was there some reason he shouldn't have...? He didn't know, but he was crying. The tiefling was shushing him, and pressing him to her chest. He found his lips brushing a swollen nipple.
"Drink."
Warm, sweet liquid flooded his mouth as he obeyed. The tiefling stroked his hair with one hand, sliding her panties down with the other. "That's right, baby," she crooned, slyness mixing with the pity on her face as she smiled down at his head. "Drink Madame Marie's milk, and wash all your problems away." She kissed the centre of his head, and slid his cock into her hungry folds.
"Ahhh... at least for now... forget it all, sweet prince, and let me be your world..."
Damon was all too eager to comply. Almost on auto-pilot at this point, he began to thrust into her, letting her guide his free hand to good purchase on her ass while his other helped steady her breast. She continued to croon and pet him as she rode him, keeping his head pressed to her tit.
Warmth from the milk spread through him; tingling mixed with the pleasure of having his rod squeezed by her flesh. Mind hazy in comfort, he did not notice as changes began to sweep over him together with the pleasure.