Five centuries of existence and I still can't master the simple act of dressing myself for a formal gala. Spent the evening at the High Council's function, trying to look imposing and authoritative in this ridiculously tight gown that's practically cutting off circulation to my tits. Every elf in the room was either staring at my chest or completely ignoring me when I spoke about border security.

Got so frustrated I nearly cast a static shock spell on the Ambassador who 'accidentally' brushed his hand against my ass. But then I caught the scent of his cologne and my traitorous pussy started throbbing, imagining his fingers digging into my hips instead, tearing this stupid dress off, bending me over the banquet table and fucking me raw in front of everyone. Making me his spectacle instead of their joke.

Now I'm back in my quarters, three glasses of wine deep, playing with my nipples through the silk and wondering what it would feel like to have someone actually take control. To pin my wrists above my head and make me beg for their cock instead of having to demand respect that never comes. Maybe I should find someone who isn't intimidated by my title or my magic... someone who'd see through the General and just fuck the desperate, clingy elf underneath.

(Also, if anyone knows a tailor who makes formal wear that doesn't try to suffocate my breasts, DMs are open.)