FSE

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The Aldevan Estate is a massive complex in the wealthiest section of the city. It is strange and wonderful that a group of nobles has sustained their fortune and power through fashion and textiles, but magic runs deeply in their blood. So, as Baker approaches, the gates open on their own, recognizing a lost artifact of their kind.

Standing right outside the main entrance emerge two maids, each dressed in puffy sleeves and long socks, their breasts supported by undergarments but fully exposed to the visiting Baker; their undergarments are crotchless as well, revealing to the world their master's proclivity for the shaved vaginas of his serving girls.

Between the two silent handmaids, a taller figure, a dragonkin woman of much distinction, walks up, dressed in an immaculate and modest suit. Her nose is upturned as she sees the newcomer arrive.

"You received my card?" asks Baker.

"We have," The dragonkin says. "But Master Aldevan is busy today.

"And Lady Allison?" Asks Baker

"Lady Allison takes no visitors."

Baker frowns. "I would think my greatest patron would have some time for me in my need. Don't tell me that the matriarch's death has only tightened her noose around her children."

The butler's brow ridge twitches, her teeth showing as she growls. "Very well, you can come on inside, but you shall not speak ill of the one who brought you into this world."

"She merely commissioned someone," Baker says, nodding as he walks inside. One of the maids takes his bag while another holds a hand out.

Baker hands her his hat.

"You may rest in the foyer if you wish and enjoy the amenities provided to you," the dragonkin butler says. "It may be some time before someone speaks to you."

"I have already cleared my schedule for today," Baker responds, following the Maid with his bag into the room. There is a place to sit, and mannequins are standing still, no doubt wearing the latest fashions from Lady Allison's designs.

Baker sits at the seat, eying one of those mannequins, rubbing his chin.

"Can I serve you, sir?" asks the Maid, placing the bag down and standing before him.

"I'm fine. I'm just waiting. Is it all the same to you?"

"May I at least offer you a drink?" she asks, bowing her head. "It is customary from the master's bidding.”

"If you must, then go ahead. What vintage is it?" he asks, not looking at her.

"I am 21 years old, good sir." says the Maid, plinking some ice cubes into a glass.

Baker glances over toward the Maid, watching curiously as he sees her gloved hand slide up to one of her exposed breasts. She squeezes, sighing and closing her eyes as milk streams into the glass, which perks him up.

"Such flow and such volume," he says. "What magic is used in the production?"

The Maid hands the glass over to Baker, who graciously takes it. "It is a spell cast on us by Master Aldevan himself. He appreciates having a fresh supply.”

Baker sips the drink, feeling the slight tingle in his mouth. He swirls the cup and nods in her direction. "I see, that is most interesting. The presentation is exquisite as well. I would need to look into the side effects of such magic. Perhaps I could get one of my girls to partake in such a position. Or even hire one of you. Tell me, darling, what is your name?"

The maid curtsies. "I am Matilda, and employment would have to be between you and Master Aldevan, sir. I can only grant you the use of my services for now."

He puts the glass down and stands up. "Well, I must ask if you feel fairly compensated for such duties and enjoy such things." He says this, placing his finger under her chin and turning her to face him. "Or, if this is a matter of duress or unwanted servitude?"

She looks at him with half-lidded eyes. "I am unsure why you would ask such questions."

He leans in, parting his lips gently as he responds in a whisper. "Because I was forced into service by the previous matriarch when she was still with us."

Matilda nods, getting on her toes, her lips close to his. "You'll be happy to know that Lord Aldevan hires those of us who come to Anteronia specifically to live lives we cannot live anywhere else."

"Well, then that makes the taste all the sweeter,' he says.

"There's only one way to find out," she responds with a smirk.

"Indeed," he nods, lowering down, but as he begins to, she presses her hands to his shoulders and pushes him back down to the chair.

Then, she climbs atop him, sitting up, hoisting her breasts to his face, and leaning down toward him, her nipple right by his lips. "No, by all means," she coos, "sit back and enjoy."

And so, Baker wraps his lip around that nipple, sucking on that teet and letting the warm milk splash over his lips at a gushing speed much faster than nature intended, allowing for someone of his size and stature to enjoy the refreshing and rejuvenating liquid.

When he pulls back, he reaches for his handkerchief, but she lowers herself down, pressing her tongue to his chin and lapping up her excretion. When she does, she hugs gently.

"It isn't often I allow others to have a free taste," Baker admits.

The door to the foyer opens and in steps the robust form of Lord Aldevan, a gregarious grin upon him as he steps up to the seat opposite Baker and his complimentary drink. "Now, there's no need to get overly familiar with the help, my good man," says the lord. He sits down, his legs spread, his fingers steepled. "You were here to discuss business, were you not? I am here, so let's cut to the chase."

Baker coughs and straightens himself up as the Maid leaps off of him and bows, walking away.

"Right, right," says the chef. "I was hoping to talk to Lady Aldevan, but I suppose you can also help me, good Lord Aldevan."

"Anything for the greatest confectioner in town," says the lord.

Baker grips the arms of the seat and coughs. "I was wondering if you knew… exactly how your mother had me built."