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A waifishly beautiful human woman sauntered towards them, her leather boots clacking on the stone floor as her frilly, laced dress swished behind her. Her long blonde hair was braided exquisitely, her porcelain face akin to a doll’s in its near perfect representation of feminine beauty- a dainty nose, sapphire blue eyes… a smile that curled into a slight smirk…

“Ugh its radiografia de columna lumbar normal kneeling before me, the cur! Ser Liam, how could you possibly let an… eww, Orc within these halls?! Do you not know of their kind? There are ladies here, some of them with child! This foul smelling, foul mouthed… ergh, foul vice filled beast will defile and rape them all given half the chance!”

“At least with elves, the weak, poorly endowed fops, they know their place in things, but Orcs?!

Vile stupid brutes, with nary any culture to speak of. Oh I know the court these days likes to pretend they are such a ‘strong’ and ‘noble’ people, but are they really people at all dolor lumbar cie 10? Who truly who can call a civilization one who still wears badly cured hide. I mean look at this pathetic, primitive savage sticking up our fine-”

“It matters not, friend. She is not in line to rule anything. She is but a perpetual child, a shiny bauble to be auctioned off through marriage as soon as is able. If any man could be found to endure her. She has no sway in our pacts or dealings.”

Lady Madelaine harrumpthed and walked over to the drawer, fetching a letter opener, thrusting it pommel first into Niralla’s hand. Clad only in a velvet robe, it would be a surprise why the long suffering elf did not stab her mistress then and there.

Casting aside her robe, lady Madeline’s pall porcelain skin was soon covered up by but a lacy bustier and dolor lumbar bajo garter belt, the panoply that she had worn to court folded haphazardly on her bed. For a moment, she stood, arms on her hips, as her servent meekly held up the bizarre false flesh.

“Oh you had said similar such when you wore me, remember? Oh no, I could never be mistress, I am not a royal, I am not a human, I could never be so mean to the staff… well I know that the staff are quite happy enough to remain in my employ when they receive their wages at the end of the month…”

“A mean, horrible, awful witch with prejudices that would make courts from a hundred years ago blush. And you played her wonderfully. As your mewling elven sycophant I felt delectably used and humiliated chasing you around the court… plying after your every want and whim as you berated me for my birth and manner… ah that was a very lovely day indeed…”

“Disgusting. Stand up for yourself sometime. It is one thing to play a role for the court but you are in my domain now, elf, in the dolor lumbar lado derecho room where I choose the masks I don. Such freedoms are extended to you. Besides, you will need far more fire in you to be Urak, much less myself.”

“And besides, I had already considered it. Perhaps at a time when the other ladies are away wooing dolts and dunderheads from other kingdoms or even, as is increasingly the fashion, non humans of sufficiently equivalent birth from other sovereigns. Such an occasion comes and I may entreat you to playing myself for longer than a day or so. Perhaps even dolor lumbar embarazo a month. It is ever so fun being the timid housemaid kept under latchkey… and it will build you character, elf.”

Opening up the seam in the back, Lady Madelaine stretched the skin open, the lower part of Urak’s skin draped down like a bizarre set of trousers. With her trepidation moderated by her mistress’s glare, Niralla slid herself inside, her brown skin disappearing underneath scarred dull green orc causas del dolor lumbar parte baja espalda flesh.

Her mistress beckoned for her to take the skin in hand, to continue the process, sliding her slender limbs into his brusque musculature. She yelped in suprise as Lady Madelaine moved behind her, helping her “seat” Urak’s other extremities, so to speak.

Niralla had never painted her nails- it did not befit a servant to compete with the beauty or splendor of her master. Nevertheless, they too were replaced with the gnarled, meaty sausages of Urak’s claws, suited more for gripping a tankard of mead or swinging a double bladed battle axe than a doting comb and mistress’s breakfast.

A shout of accomplished relief could be heard from where Mistress had left to, and she returned clutching in both arms a heavy, circular metal object… it seemed made of steel or tarnished silver, and bore a macabre motif of screaming faces of all manner of sentient races…

Not knowing what else to do, Niralla complied, tasting the strange false flesh in her mouth as it subsumed her teeth, a pocket delicately arranged to hold her tongue… As the mask was pulled back, she found herself in a state of momentary blindness, before her vision was returned to her, a view of the world slightly tinted red with Urak’s fierece glass eyes…

“Tell me… oh Ser Urak… if I brought such a mewling knife ear before you, bound in chains… her mouth fixed with a ring gag, blindfolded and helpless… could you resist your brutish nature? Would your restraint bear radiografia de columna lumbar ap y lateral out against hers? Or would you do as savages like you always do, and ream the poor girl until she begged to scream…”

With alacrity, she ventured off towards the washroom again, leaving “Urak” to ponder his form. Did he truly say such things to mistress escoliosis dextroconvexa just then? His arms reached around the gorget which held him tightly in this new form. Was this some magic?

“Free you? You are not my equal, harlot. I care not for your kind’s inherited titles, your false nobility…. even if you were to don the flesh of my kind permanently, it would be as an inferior.. my shield thrall, a false orc with false scars and false tattoos…”

“I- I apologize… but please, I beg of you, deep in my soul I know that service to you is preferable to this false rulership… oh they call me lady but I am not free to do as I wish, cooped up here in this gilded room… a thrall out there I would be, but I would be a slave to only one… instead of the myriad eyes of this spineless court…”

The tempo increased. In the corners of his mind he was distantly aware of the absurdity of the situation, the truth of his own nature, gagged, plugged, and sealed in a name dolor lumbar izquierdo he had only been taught recently… but the pleasure and power bid him back to “reality”… the now of this fantasy…

“And I expect you to use that time productively, elf. I will not serve a halfhearted orc. Give in wholly, no matter how distasteful to your nature it may feel… it is so much more enjoyable that way, in the end… Now my brooch! It shall be yours to command after tonight…”