A Perverted Path to Victory

Sara Brown

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Sara continued to lift Anaka, shifting her grip to encompass the shorter woman’s whole chin so she could drag her up, up, up, until she was on her feet, supported more by Sara’s strength than her own two legs.

Sara cocked her head. She’d played plenty with her Gift of Lust. The most common usage was slapping the magical energy onto dicks as the world’s best viagra, which was something everyone involved found a blessing. That was followed by using it to determine who was actually interested in sharing her bed for honest reasons, not prestige or conceitedness, or simply cutting past the flirting stage right into the main event.

The least common use, however, was its most interesting. When she encountered certain people who were particularly susceptible to its effects, Gift of Lust became something not unlike a powerful, magical mind-altering drug. Rave MDMA on steroids. Ketch was the most common recipient of that last effect, easily sinking deeper into a mind-erasing bliss with every activation of the Skill, but in her case, there were limits. Mostly that after only two or three Gifts of Lust, the azarketi girl was loose and pliable enough for an onlooker to mistake her for a moaning, groaning, giggling sack of loose skin. She’d spent far too long abandoning herself in the swirling eddies of Selliana’s eyes to resist any other kind of siren’s song.

Seeing the girl like that had made Sara quietly curious about what might happen to others, should they be given the same treatment Ketch so loved. She’d never done it, of course. Ethical conundrums aside, her wives didn’t need it. Hurlish wasn’t interested, and Evie was kinky enough that she wanted their bedroom to be a place of pain and fear.

Yet Sara had still wondered: what would happen if she just kept piling on? She could activate the Blessing endlessly, at least as far as she knew. Was there a limit to what one person could feel? Diminishing returns? What would a normal person, not a half-broken Witch’s Familiar, look like when their lust was driven past human limits?

In Anaka, that curiosity had finally found itself a willing test subject. More critically, it had found a test subject Sara didn’t care all that much about. Anaka had bought people. Purchased other human beings, fully intending to enslave them in a brothel. However she’d personally justified it, she’d wanted to turn a profit on repeated, systematic rape. Actually committing that atrocity had thankfully proven too despicable for her in the end, thank the gods, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d willingly walked right up to the very precipice of that unforgivable act. Sara couldn’t hate her. Yet she couldn’t respect her, either.

So what did it matter if Gift of Lust had some kind of negative effect when used to excess? What did it matter if the addiction Sara’s body had inspired in others would be incurably implanted in this woman? When Anaka put a collar on those slaves and forced them to gain Classes related to sex work? That was bad enough. Then she’d gone even further by ordering them to improve upon their Skills time and time again, twisting their earliest, most important Levels toward a profession that was scorned by their society. She’d irrevocably altered their course in life.

So what if Sara did the same to her? Why should she care if Anaka, a lifelong brothel owner, a former slave owner, had to wipe drool from her chin every time she summoned up the mere memory of this night? Why should she care if the woman spent the rest of her life tortured by the knowledge that such bliss would never again visit her?

Sara didn’t care. Not really. Hell, she was nearly certain the woman would love it.

Sara twisted Anaka’s head in her grasp, inspecting her like a prize show dog. She’d started off by slapping three Gifts of Lust atop her, each in rapid succession. Her breath was ragged, her pupils dilated, and she had a full-body flush. A good start. As Sara leaned forward, bringing the shorter woman in for a kiss, she patiently waited for the moment their lips first touched.

And, at that very moment of contact, added a fourth Gift of Lust.

Anaka gasped, pulling herself forward. She met Sara’s lips with the inexplicable need of a drowning woman tasting air for the first time in an eternity, groaning her relief as Sara’s free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling their two bodies together. Sara used the hand that was still on her chin to tilt her head to the side, slipping her tongue between her lips.

Anaka opened her mouth greedily, her entire body shuddering as she felt Sara tasting her. Pressing inward, claiming her mouth, enjoying the taste of her, Sara rewarded her with another Gift of Lust.

Five now.

Anaka nearly seized against Sara, every muscle contorting to grind itself closer against her body as if trying to wallow in her mere presence. The bulge she’d failed to hide now slid slickly up Sara’s thigh, its tip already wet enough to leave spots on her dress.

She tried to buck further into Sara, trying to get a firm purchase of her hips and cock against her thighs, but Sara wouldn’t allow more than the tip to brush against her. She used the hand on Anaka’s waist to ball up the woman’s dress into a tight fist, keeping her away.

Anaka whimpered pitifully into her mouth, but apparently couldn’t bring herself to tear away from the feeling of Sara’s lips long enough to give words to her protest. Sara could read her well enough. The trembling hands that the Madame had brought to Sara’s chest opened and closed on empty air as she tried and failed to understand this swelling, profound, unyielding need. No client, no employee, not even her closest lovers had ever brought her to this state, and however close they might have gotten, they’d certainly never approached it in so short a time.

When her hands stopped closing on empty air, instead falling forward, landing atop Sara’s still-clothed breasts, she threw a sixth Gift of Lust at her.

Anaka cried out, a loud, girlish keening noise that Sara’s kiss couldn’t muffle. The whole room, almost all of her employees, longtime sexworkers themselves, could hear the abject arousal in that wordless utterance. Their employer, the woman they respected, trusted, and ever-so-slightly feared, was crying out like a virgin schoolgirl.

Sara, in an act of mercy and cruelness both, thrust her knee out, finally giving the woman something to touch herself with. Anaka lunged desperately for it and, the very instant her cock brushed against Sara’s body, received her seventh Gift of Lust.

Anaka’s climax arrived with a twisting, wrenching motion, her entire body protesting and reveling in the way that her cock unexpectedly spurted thick, heavy lines of cum into her dress, ruining it from the inside out. There was so much that it quickly began dribbling downward, creating a large and painfully obvious stain.

“What…” Anaka gasped, pulling herself off Sara’s lips for the first time. She looked like she wanted to say more, to ask a question, but could only stare dizzily as she repeated herself dumbly. “What? Wha… what…?”

“What was that?” Sara chuckled. “The first minute of the next three hours,” Sara replied smugly, allowing the woman to rest her weight on Sara’s lifted knee. “Or however long I booked you for. Can’t remember. Not like it matters. This should be fun, right?”

The Madame didn’t seem to have heard a thing. “I’m s-so hot,” she breathed, eyes drifting without sight. “I’ve never felt like t-that before. It was… it was overwhelming.” She finally blinked. “Three… hours?”

“Three hours,” Sara confirmed, bouncing her knee. Even that slight jostling made Anaka’s nails dig hard into her skin as she writhed, squirming from side to side. “I figured we’d move to whatever room you had prepared, but you seemed so eager…”

“Y-yes, l-let’s,” Anaka agreed, glancing out at her employees, then down at her ruined dress. “S-so much,” she whispered. “Not in all my life have I ever done this, I assure you.”

Sara chuckled. “I believe you.”

Anaka was still staring down at herself, dazed. Her cock visibly pulsed beneath her dress, bobbing over and over again. “I’m not sure if I can walk. My knees feel as if they’ll bend like grass.”

“Nothing for it, then,” Sara said, grabbing the woman by the hips and spinning her around, dropping her atop a table. “Guess we gotta stick around here.”

“But-”

Sara seized Anaka’s dribbling cock over her dress and flung another Gift of Lust at the woman.

Anaka threw her hips up into Sara’s touch, blind instinct trying to shove her into something that wasn’t there. All she achieved was knocking Sara’s hand aside, denying herself the pleasure she’d been so fervently seeking.

Sara tsked. “I thought you’d have better aim than that, Anaka. Shouldn’t a woman with your kind of experience know how to pump her hips?”

Anaka’s response came in the eloquent form of gasping out “Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-” as her hands clawed at her dress, dragging it up and off her legs.

“Since you don’t seem to be capable of doing much yourself, let me help with that.”

Sara laughed openly, almost cruelly, as Anaka threw her hands to the side, letting her work the dress up and off her thighs, then her waist, stopping to make sure the inside didn’t roll to face outward, ensuring the woman’s own cum was smeared messily across her stomach, breasts, and throat. Sara stopped as the messiest part of the dress passed over Anaka’s face. She grinned cruelly as an idea struck her. Instead of taking her dress all the way off, she spent a moment rubbing it like a cum-soaked rag against Anaka’s cheeks, eyes, and nose, making absolutely certain the Madame couldn’t ignore it.

“Open your mouth,” Sara ordered.

Anaka couldn’t hear her. Her head was wrapped in tangled clothing, her own rubbing against the tabletop drowning her thoughts. She was so turned on that even the contact of wood against her skin was close to taking her to another climax, even with her bra still solidly clasped and her panties still struggling– and failing– to contain her pulsing erection. Sara nearly laughed when she realized the woman was wearing lacy, sky-blue underwear, embroidered with stitched images of flowers and shining yellow suns.

Her cock, however, was no laughing matter. Well above average, almost seven inches in length, it was even thicker than most of a shorter dimension. Its head glistened with her seed, shining in the crystal chandeliers, and pre-cum was still leaking out to drip, drip, drip against her smooth, bronzed stomach.

Sara leaned over Anaka. The position had the thick underside of Anaka’s shaft thumping against Sara’s stomach with every beat of her heart. She pressed her lips to the woman’s hidden ears.

“I said open your mouth.”

Anaka’s groaning grew louder as her jaw dropped, hot breath filtered through her dress to pant against Sara’s cheek.

“Good girl.”

Anaka’s reward was two fingers shoving the most cum-stained part of her dress to the back of her throat, accompanied by yet another Gift of Lust.

She came with a garbled, choking scream. Sara felt hot ropes of white strike her shirt, sticking it to her stomach, then her breasts, some of it reaching so far as to spatter wetly against her chin. In a matter of seconds, both of them were coated in the woman’s cum.

Gods, Hurlish is gonna be so pissed she missed this much girl cum, Sara thought. Of course, she would’ve been equally angry that it had been wasted. Her orcish wife detested the idea of facials with an almost religious zeal, refusing to let any woman with a cock cum anywhere but as far inside another woman as they could reach.

While Sara had been distracted by that thought, Anaka’s seizure-like orgasm had run its course. This time, the relief seemed to give her no return to lucidity. She’d begun suckling on Sara’s fingers, uncaring of the dress or cum in the way, frantically trying to get any taste of the ambrosia that Sara’s skin had become to her. Any time Sara felt the touch of bare tongue against her skin, Anaka’s entire body was wracked by ecstatic shivers.

“N-no!” Anaka cried out as Sara pulled her fingers from the woman’s throat in order to finally toss her dress off her shoulders. She looked at Sara with wild eyes. “No! No! B-back, put t-them back, please! Please!”

Sara ignored her. Anaka no longer had the strength left in her body to sit up, which meant that she could only call out increasingly incoherent appeals for Sara’s fingers to return, weakly thrashing left and right. It was as if she’d lost the idea to think a single second into the future, or perhaps was so overwhelmed by pleasure that she couldn’t fathom anything better than the taste of Sara’s skin.

Sara decided to correct her. She slid a hand down her stomach, four trim fingernails scraping lines through the pooling cum that still dripped from them both. Her palm came to rest against the head of Anaka’s cock, mixing the Madame’s saliva with the pre-cum beading from the slit of her cock.

Anaka froze. She was completely, utterly still, her eyelids shot wide-open, staring at the ceiling. She wasn’t even breathing.

Sara curled a single finger around the woman’s cock. With that, she tossed her another Gift of Lust.

Anaka collapsed, tears beading at the corner of her eyes as her head rolled bonelessly, her twitching lips muttering a mixture of praise and thanks.

Well, we’re not quite at ‘religious event’, but we’re getting closer.

Sara wrapped the rest of her fingers down Anaka’s shaft, adding them one by one. Her thumb came up to swipe across the wet head of her cock, causing another shudder to roll across the woman. Sara began to, with aching, deliberate slowness, slip her hand south. Her other hand came up to the Madame’s waistband, preparing to finally slide her underwear free.

Only to get her own tiny sort of shock when she properly pulled back to look between Anaka’s legs. Her panties were… wet. Very wet. Cum had of course smeared itself along her thighs, that was unavoidable at this point, but… that wasn’t what had gotten them wet. It was a type of sticky arousal Sara knew intimately, even if she didn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

Any drama and sense of anticipation evaporated as Sara unceremoniously tore Anaka’s underwear off her, revealing exactly what she expected.

“Oh, what the fuck?” She exclaimed.

Laying exposed beneath Anaka’s dripping, needy cock, there was another set of genitals. Anaka’s cock ended less than an inch above what could only be her clitoris, itself partly hidden beneath the tight pair of neatly-trimmed balls. The rest of her vagina spread down and away, uncaring of what lay above it. Sara felt like there should have been something more difficult about it, getting both to play nice in such a cramped space, but it just worked. Her thick cock blended smoothly into the shaved skin of her pelvis, leaking so much precum it ran down her shaft to mix with the shining slick of her pussy. It was beautiful. Alluring. All at once, Sara understood how a lowly prostitute had come to own an entire brothel, one renowned across a city that, at least in public, claimed to scorn such a thing. With a body like this, Anaka could have charged anything; a hundred copper or a hundred silver, they’d always come back. Who wouldn’t come back to such a thick cock, tight pussy, and beautiful body? That just wasn’t fair. Sara leaned forward and ran an almost incredulous finger up Anaka’s slit, collecting the wet juices. She held the liquid to the light, then licked it off her finger. It tasted exactly as she’d expected. Wonderful.

And infuriating.

“Seriously?!” She shouted, stepping slightly back to get a better view. “This is some bullshit. How did she end up with this? What the fuck?”

“I-it’s how she was born!” A voice called out, as indignantly defensive as it was nervous to speak up.

Sara whipped her head around to the vanara prostitute who’d spoken.

“It’s not- I’m not-” Sara’s incredulous reaction was interrupted by Anaka’s whimpering. She shut the woman up by pumping her cock once, causing her legs to slam violently shut against Sara’s hips. “I’m not mad at her,” Sara explained, using the woman’s own cock as a pointing stick for her face. “I’m mad that she’s got this setup and I don’t! Do you know how long I’ve been trying to do this? To have both at the same time?”

Sara turned around, one hand behind her back in order to keep resting on Anaka’s cock, then unashamedly dropped her pants for her spectators. Her spotlessly bald pussy was suddenly on display, showing off the arousal dripping down her legs.

“See? Pussy.” She gave it a bit of thought and, with a flash, changed her body. “Cock.” She gave it another bit of thought, then there was another flash of purple-pink magic. “Pussy.” She switched again. “Cock. Pussy. Cock. Pussy. Cock. See what I mean? Magic powers, Amarat shit or whatever, it’s great. But, like, it’s been over a year of me never been able to have both–”

The instant the thought came to her, her body adjusted itself. Sara’s ranting was interrupted by an embarassing, terribly garbled moan, crying out “Ohhhohohhhohhhhhuhhnnngh,” as she stretched and changed in ways she’d never quite felt before. A burst of heat spread through her pelvis, frighteningly intense, despite being the furthest thing from painful she could have imagined. A few seconds later, it vanished as quickly as it arrived.

“Shit!” Sara swore, straightening to look down at herself. Just like that, she finally, finally had both. “What the fuck am I, Ben 10? Do I have to scan people’s fuckholes to copy them for myself?” She blinked. “Wait. Does that mean I can– hhhngnnh-” Sara folded over as her pussy vanished, a tingle shooting down her spine into her thickening cock. When she managed to right herself again, she found a new dick dangling off her hips: that of a catfolk’s, thicker than her wrist at the base, red and glistening along its entire tapered length.

“...how do I get me one of those?” She heard someone ask. Quickly, a chorus of other disbelieving reactions followed.

“You c-can come here and suck it whenever,” Sara groaned, still recovering from the unfamiliar sensation. She’d gotten so used to switching between her usual pair that she’d forgotten what it had been like at the beginning, back when she’d first become a Champion.

“Not what I meant,” the vanara woman drawled.

“...I’d suck it,” someone else said.

“Of course you would.”

“Fuck off, Therya. You work here, too.”

“You were gonna do it for free, though.”

“You wouldn’t?”

Someone– the vanara named Therya, presumably– glanced apprehensively at Sara, as if realizing for the first time that what she said next might determine whether or not she got in Sara’s pants.

“I didn’t say that,” she muttered under their breath.

“Alright,” Sara loudly announced, taking her cock back to its usual form, “after I’m done rearranging your boss’s guts, I’m gonna get my tongue on, in, or around anything and anyone here who doesn’t have… uh, I guess I’ll call them human-standard genitals?” She quickly flashed between her pussy and dick for emphasis. “These two. You get what I mean. So enjoy the show, get yourself ready for that.”

Sara turned back to Anaka, shaking distractions out of her head. She had so much she wanted to do with this little discovery, but she was starting to suspect that if she didn’t do something to Anaka soon, the woman might go into cardiac arrest. Sara had kept a slow, teasing pump of her hand across Anaka’s cock the entire time she’d been experimenting with her newly recognized abilities, barely giving the woman a feather touch. That treatment had reduced the Madame’s vocalizations to little more than incomprehensible, needy babbling.

“Okay,” Sara said, shaking out her hair, letting its long black waves roll down her back. She didn’t bother to tug her shirt over her head, instead just grabbing her collar and, with a quick downward jerk, ripped it off her chest. “Time to focus. Dom mode or whatever.” She gave a few quick pumps of Anaka’s cock, tightening her fist a touch. As she did so, she sorted her priorities out loud. “I’ll blow a few loads in her, get a train run on me so I can update my magic cock or however the fuck that works, then I’m gonna go fuck my wife until she can’t walk. That should give us enough time for us to finally go see how bad Mui fucked up getting laid with a prostitute.”

“Wait, really?” Someone asked. “Run a train on you, Your Holiness?”

“Don’t call me that!” Sara barked. “And how do you even know what the fuck ‘running a train’ means, anyway?”

“...what else would it mean?”

“This translation magic is bullshit,” Sara muttered under her breath. Someone was already asking if they’d be getting paid for fucking Sara, a concern that most people responded to with variations of shut the fuck up. She took a moment to focus in on Anaka, blocking out her spectators once more. It was harder than she’d expected. She’d fucked in front of plenty of audiences before, but none quite like this. Even with how thoroughly she’d been taking apart their boss, a professional Madame, this crowd was still made up of experienced, high-brow prostitutes. They had a cavalier attitude toward sex that even Tulian’s hidden BDSM club couldn’t match.

Never thought I’d fuck someone while getting heckled, she thought, bending low over Anaka, sandwiching the woman’s cock between their stomachs. She briefly glanced into the woman’s pupils, surprised that she could actually spot the tiniest flickers of lucidity behind the bonfire of lust. Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, it was that tiny ember of consciousness, the last part of Anaka that had survived so long against her body’s roaring desire, that finally grounded Sara back in the moment.

Her stomach clenched. She couldn’t wait to find out if that spark could survive beneath an ocean of pleasure.

Sara smirked at Anaka as she slowly, teasingly, let her tongue roll out from her lips, its swaying tip– just a touch longer than a human’s should ever be– dangling over the woman’s collarbone. Then, lidding her eyes, she dropped it to the woman’s skin, curling upward, scooping up the cum that had pooled on her skin.

Anaka let out a loud, high-pitched keening noise.

Sara leaned back, holding eye contact as she brought her tongue into her mouth, visibly savoring the taste. It was only after the sticky, warm cum had rested in her mouth for a time that she finally swallowed.

Then pushed her hips forward.

The moment the head of her cock touched Anaka’s lower lips, the woman came. And this time, wonderfully, Sara could finally feel it. She could feel the way the underside of Anaka’s cock tightened and pulsed in her hand, pouring white strings across both their naked bodies. She could feel her thighs shiver and shake as they failed to find the strength to wrap around Sara, wanting more than anything in the world to force the thick cock into her molten heat.

Sara sighed contentedly.

Then, with the head of her cock beginning to slowly spread what lay before it, she activated another Gift of Lust.

Anaka’s body twisted and rolled, her fingers bent into claws, her toes spreading wide. She was so consumed with arousal that her motions were driven by instinctive need rather than any conscious thought.

“What do you want?” Sara whispered.

“Something… inside me…” Anaka slurred, goosebumps chasing after her rolling shivers. “Please.” Her eyes watered, near to tears. “Please.”

“If I do it,” Sara warned, “I’m not sure if you’ll ever come back.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m not going to stop once I start.”

“Gods, please don’t.”

“Last chance.”

“Now,” Anaka hissed, one limp arm trying to lift up to take a swing at Sara, only for another trembling shiver to leave it flopping uselessly onto her stomach.

Mentally, Sara shrugged. Far be it from her to keep a woman waiting. And it wasn’t like Anaka wasn’t the only one who was impatient. The heat that lay between the woman’s spread legs felt like a damn furnace, calling out to Sara, telling her so much of how wonderful it be to bury herself within.

Sara grabbed Anaka’s ankles in both hands, spread her wide, and shoved herself in.

“F-fucking hell,” Sara groaned, head falling forward. Anaka was so tight it was goddamn unbelievable. She’d fucked a lot of people in all sorts of ways, giving and taking, front to back, whatever, but in all her time in this world, she’d never felt a pussy so tight it bordered on painful for her. Yet as Anaka cried out in rapturous relief, the way she clenched down on Sara teetered on the overwhelming.

“Fucking hell,” Sara repeated as she drew her hips back. “Is that a Skill or something?”

Anaka’s wild eyes couldn’t seem to find Sara as she slurred out her words. “Iiiiii thiink I lovvve youuuu,” she half-moaned, half cooed, one hand clenched into a fist between her breasts, the other slapping atop a table that, by this point, was beyond salvaging. No amount of Levels in a Carpentry Class could undo what they’d done to that thing.

“Don’t think I can say the same,” Sara grunted, grinding her way forward. “Fuck,” she groaned. “Feels like you’re trying to keep me trapped in here.”

“Yesssss,” Anaka said. She started to convulse around Sara’s cock, her pussy climaxing hard, even though her dick didn’t seem to reach the same peak. “Alwayssss. In meeee-”

Anaka cut off as Sara bottomed out, thumping against the back walls of her depths. That drew the Madame’s ongoing orgasm out even further, her pussy rippling up and down Sara’s cock, trying to force her to orgasm as soon as she possibly could.

Sara didn’t have a choice. The heat in her cock wasn’t coiling, it was flaring, turning into a nuclear bonfire. Her knees were already beginning to shake, and she could hear herself whining between gasps and pants.

Fuck off am I gonna go this quick, she thought, pulling her pelvis back. She grabbed Anaka’s hip with her left hand, wrapping her right hand around the woman’s cock. At least not alone.

She started to thrust properly now, slapping her hips into Anaka in tune with the pumping of her fist. It was still so tight that, if it had been anyone else, she would have felt certain it was an agonizing experience for them. The way Anaka was gasping, however, trying and failing to chant Sara’s name, proved it to be anything but. If there really was a way to have a religious experience through getting split open by cock, the once-elegant Madame had been thrown head-first over that threshold.

“Look at me,” Sara ordered, her own words hitching.

Anaka didn’t. She didn’t seem to hear a thing.

“Look at me,” Sara snapped, squeezing the woman’s cock.

Anaka’s chest heaved upward with a guttural moan, but that was it. There was no other reaction.

Growling, Sara took her hand off the woman’s hip long enough to grab her chin, turning her face upward. She stared into her eyes, looking for the spark that had been there such a short time ago.

Anaka’s empty face stared back at her, squished between Sara’s fingers. Her tongue tried to reach out to lick at Sara’s skin, but she was bouncing too hard from the thrusts to manage the feat.

Sara grinned, satisfied.

There was nothing left of the woman that had greeted Sara earlier that night. She’d been replaced by a mewling, writhing animal, her head empty of anything beyond what Sara’s body was giving her. Her eyes weren’t closed, but they weren’t looking at anything, either. The ocean of bliss had swept up and over, drowning her in a tide of wanton pleasure. What had once been the greatest, most profound climax of her life was now pulsing through her veins with every wet slap of Sara’s hips, each impact against her back walls and every pump of her cock driving her toward some new, uncharted peak, unlike anything she’d ever been able to imagine before.

Sara was right there with her. The way Anaka’s body was coiling around her was more intoxicating than alcohol. Whatever creature of animalistic need it was that had slithered up to take control of the former prostitute’s body, it clearly still knew how to use her prostitute’s Skills, and it was driving Sara mad. Even with every other muscle on her body limp and pliable, Anaka’s legs had come up to wrap around her hips, heels pressing against her back to help drive her deeper. Every time Sara’s palm reached the base of Anaka’s cock a tingle would shoot up her arm and into her breasts, shooting back downward when she raised up to cover the head of the woman’s cock.

Sara was instinctively aware, somehow, that every ounce of pleasure she drew from the woman’s cock was earning her a reward, and, to her shock, she was finding herself having to fight off the urge to pull out and drop to her knees, taking the cock in her mouth. The way it shot sparks into just her hand, her skin, it would be so much better across her tongue. That craving grew with every thrust and every pump, until her right arm was shaking with pleasure almost as much as Anaka’s limbs, and there was a part of Sara’s mind, buried deep but digging closer to the surface every second, that whispered a question to her: how good would it feel not just in her mouth, but down her throat? In her ass? In her pussy?

Sara fell forward with a helpless moan, barely fighting off the invading thoughts by taking one of Anaka’s nipples in her mouth. It tasted like nothing else she’d ever known. A quick swirl around the tip had saliva pooling beneath Sara’s tongue, only to come spilling out as drool when she took the nipple between her teeth and tugged, creating an explosion of sparks across her entire face as reflected pleasure was shot back at her psyche.

Anaka came yet again, her pussy somehow clamping down even harder. Sara felt blue sparks fizzle and pop under the skin of her lips, filling her with enough pleasure to leave the muscles of her face slack and numb.

“Fu-u-u-ck,” Sara groaned, dripping saliva across Anaka’s breasts. She still hadn’t stopped thrusting, and the heat in her belly hadn’t stopped rising. It was out of control, and she felt like she should have cum an hour ago. That they’d barely been fucking for a few minutes didn’t even seem relevant.

She reached her head up, pressing her face to Anaka’s, shoving her tongue past the whore’s mewling lips. Even that little touch had stars dancing behind Sara’s eyes, to say nothing of the way that Anaka’s cock was now pressed between their two bodies, getting jerked off both by Sara’s hand and the rolling of her stomach as she kept pounding forward.

“Gonna-” she gasped, “Gonna cum-!”

Whatever was left of Anaka understood that. She made a happy, worshipful noise deep in her throat, sucking at Sara’s tongue. Her legs tightened around Sara’s back, her hips suddenly finding the strength to roll upward into her, matching her pace with an inhuman, impossible perfection, almost as good as Evie, and all the while she kept her pussy rolling and twisting around Sara’s cock.

Sara couldn’t hold it anymore. She didn’t fucking want to. She shoved her hips so hard against Anaka that the entire table threatened to collapse, her body seizing, pressing itself against every inch of warm skin she could find as- as- as-

Anaka’s cock throbbed. When Sara felt the first string spurt between them, it was all over.

“MMMmmph!”

A lightning bolt raced its way up Sara’s arm, frying her nervous system with a climax it was never built to handle. Her own cock jumped, a fiery line of unbearable pleasure racing out from deep within her core to throw white, sticky pulses as far into Anaka’s body as could ever be possible, the moan that tore itself from their throats primal, inhuman, and utterly wonderful. The strange heat in Sara’s pelvis from earlier returned, unbidden, creating a pussy and aching clit that was clamping down on sensations of a phantom cock piercing her from hip to ribcage. She was as deep as she could be, had something stuffing her full in a way that sated her like nothing else, and was still kissing so madly her long eyelashes were fluttering wildly against Anaka’s face. Her twitching hips kept thrusting against her will, pushing so hard she was driving them both across the table, and it seemed the friction of wood and skin and slick, steaming cum all melded together into a blanket of fire, coating her in delight like nothing else. Sara was lost in it all, towed into senseless oblivion by Anaka’s screaming climax.

When Sara eventually, some unknown centuries later, finally came down from the shuddering high of her climax, she could hear voices talking quietly behind her.

“...didn’t the boss warn her that was going to happen?”

“I mean, I’ve fucked the boss before, but it never made me grow a whole new pussy…”

“So are we gonna put her in a room until she wakes up, or just leave her here?”

Groaning, her body wracked throughout by a profoundly satisfying ache, Sara managed to shove herself up off of Anaka. The room fell silent as, one by one, the assembled workers realized Sara was awake.

She ignored them, steeling herself for the worst moment of it all– pulling out.

With a tiny whine at the back of her throat, Sara slowly dragged her hyper-sensitive cock out of Anaka’s pussy. Coated in arousal and cum, the air felt so terribly cold against her that she shivered violently, a motion that did no good for the oversensitivity that was still running through her.

When she finally extricated herself from the greedy hole that she never wanted to leave, cum dripping out after her, Sara sighed, standing up properly.

“Um. Are you… ma’am?”

Sara ignored them. She reached forward, putting a hand between Anaka’s breasts to make sure she was breathing. She was breathing, but inconsistently, taking a breath in for two seconds, breathing out for three, breathing in for five, holding it for a time, then continuing onward. Her fingers and toes were still twitching slightly, an occasional muscle spasm running its way up one limb or another. Sara reached up to her face and used two fingers to lift the woman’s eyelids.

Anaka didn’t blink. Her left pupil was narrowed to a tiny dot, while her right pupil was blown out so widely there was barely any iris left at all. Sara let go of one eyelid, letting it slump into a half-closed position, and snapped her fingers a few times in front of the blown-out pupil.

Anaka gave no reaction. Her face was coated in saliva and cum, the latter of which had spurted between their breasts during the final climax. Sara looked about for a cloth or something to use, but only found their clothes nearby, which were almost as badly ruined as Anaka. Realizing there was nothing for it, she sighed, turning around.

“Alright. You,” she said, pointing to the muscular orc man who had taken Evie downstairs, “are going to get your boss wiped off, then you’re going to take her to a healer. She’s got symptoms of a… I don’t really know what, but nothing great, so you’re gonna want to go to Healer Pahla-Nahn, two streets over. I sent him a letter earlier today warning him he might get an odd patient tonight, so he should be ready.”

“Ma’am,” someone else interrupted cautiously, “Are you, uh, okay?”

Sara held up a finger for silence, still pointing at the first man. “Do you know where I’m talking about?”

“Er. Yes.” For such a massively bulky, muscular orc, he was awfully intimidated. “Should I go now, or…?”

“Yes, now. Wrap her up in a blanket or something. It’s past curfew, but don’t worry about the military patrols. You’re taking her to a healer, and that’s an allowed exception.” Sara stepped aside as the orc obediently began trundling his way over to Anaka. Stepping further away, she turned to the man who’d asked if she was okay a moment ago. A thin, younger human. “Yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The man scratched the back of his neck, wildly uncomfortable. “It’s just that… Well. We’ve never seen someone lay with Anaka and stand up so soon afterwards. Or, really, even wake up this soon. You’re not, like, sore or anything…?”

Sara snorted. “A little bit. But I’m fine. She was a pretty good fuck, I’ll give her that, but you don’t need to worry about me.” She smiled brilliantly. “Now, who wants their turn on me first?”

At the rear of the crowd, Sara’s Blessings caught a woman muttering “If she can do that to the boss, she’d kill me.” The woman turned away, retreating out of the crowded audience. Similar sentiments were quietly echoed as others began to head for the doors.

Sara looked over the crowd. The Empire and its cities had proven to be the most diverse region of the world Sara had visited thus far, with only a thin majority being human, the rest of the population broken up between catfolk, vanara, azarketi, lizardfolk, half-elves, and elves, as well as a few scattered minorities of other sorts she’d occasionally noted.

The brothel, as she supposed made sense for a business that catered in exotic experiences, was even more diverse than the average Imperial city. Along with all the aforementioned, there were also a pair of gnolls, who were furry, hyena-like men and women that stood a head taller than most humans, as well as a smattering of waist and even knee-high people who Sara hadn’t even learned the name of, three rather vulpine individuals who she’d initially mistaken for catfolk, and even a single woman who was– and it could be described no other way– a dog girl, complete with muzzle and fuzzy, wagging tail.

Twitter would go fucking apeshit in this room, Sara thought, suppressing a smirk.

Then she paused.

Wait. Huh. My whole plan is to fuck pretty much everyone here who doesn’t look human, because I want to see what kinda stuff is between their legs.

She hid a wince. Shit. I really am a fucking furry now, aren’t I? Goddammit. Whatever.

Sara was unwilling to let this opportunity pass her by, no matter how tempting it was to maintain that small semblance of not-really-a-moral-highground. So, instead of arguing with herself over something that didn’t matter, she spread her arms and struck a pose with her fluid-drenched body, calling out with a shining smile on her face.

“Anyone who wants to have me, can. Anyone who has a dick or pussy that doesn’t look like mine? You can use my mouth.”

And with that dramatic announcement, Sara threw Gift of Lust across the entire room.

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Mui Thom

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For the nth time since he had been swept up in the swirl of Sara Brown’s life, Mui found himself thrown off balance by things he’d been directly told to expect. He had gone to a brothel, and he had been greeted by prostitutes. He had been told to visit a bath filled with women, and he had been greeted by a great number of women. That he’d expected all this didn’t make it any simpler to react to. You could imagine a cadre of women running soapy hands through your fur all you want (and, truthfully, Mui had imagined it quite often as a boy), but that didn’t mean you’d ever be the least bit prepared for it actually happening.

He was brought to a room far down a long hallway, one hidden behind a thick, sturdy door. When it was swung open, steam rolled out onto the ceiling, carrying with it the sound of light, feminine conversations.

The baths were a wonder unto themselves. Fed a constant supply of clean, fresh water by the city’s aqueducts, the luxurious pool was both wider and deeper than a number of rivers he’d known to be an obstacle to entire armies. The room was filled with a haze of steam, thin wisps of white drifting off the surface of an expertly heated pool. Even before he had entered it, Mui could tell it was more comfortable than any bath he’d ever taken, even on the warmest and brightest days of the year. Seeing as the women of this… brothel… had been using it for little more than recreation, there must be no end to how long it would stay warm. Practically a miracle, that. Yet oddly enough, Mui thought he might have been more awed by this luxury if he had never visited Tulian. The great industries he had glimpsed there seemed to trivialize something as “quaint” as a tiled, heated bath, wonderful as it currently seemed.

He was nowhere near ready to relax, however. Not with the company that spread out before him. There was no natural way to react to a lilting chorus of greetings from a dozen different beautiful women, many of whom were wearing nothing more than a towel wrapped around their torsos. It simply did not exist. Mui was certain of it.

His first actual response was involuntary, of course. His eyes roamed across the room as he fought and failed to tear his gaze from the beautiful sights. Many of the women were catfolk, and it was to them that his attentionally naturally fell first. Some were in the pool itself, their fur floating weightlessly about them, ripples in the water showing where their tails flicked back and forth. Others were fresh out of the water, and not all of them had placed a towel to cover their modesty. Their fur was pressed sleek and thin, showing off figures svelte and voluptuous, firm and soft, breasts of all sizes and shapes rising, swaying, bouncing, all according to the terribly casual way they ignored their nudity.

And that wasn’t even all the women present. He saw a lizardfolk woman, with her rough scales and powerful jaws, resting her head in the lap of a vanara woman, one who was using not only her hands to massage her fellow employee, but her prehensile tail, kneading the taut flesh with all three limbs. A woman of a sort he couldn’t even name was resting with closed eyes against the wall, tip of her thin muzzle sniffing at the air while she brushed out the long, inordinately fluffy tail in her lap. There were, to his utter disbelief, half-elves present. Mui had only seen a handful of elves in his entire life, and not that many more half-elves, yet there were three of them right before him. And they were naked.

While Mui was still standing in place, reeling from shock, the diminutive catfolk woman who had led him to the baths pressed herself to his back, reaching arms around his stomach to hug him from behind. His heart seized at the touch, blood icing in his veins as he fought a soldier’s instinct to throw an elbow into her face while drawing a belt knife.

Then her hands drifted up under the hem of his shirt, tickling the fur just over his waistband, and he found himself frozen for an entirely different reason.

“It’s a policy that all our guests must bathe before visiting with our attendants,” she purred into his back, “and we’re quite insistent on it.” She plucked at his shirt, lifting it higher, inch by inch. “Would you like some assistance getting ready for the bath?”

“I- well, I would think that I’m-”

Mui wasn’t allowed the opportunity to stutter through whatever stupid thing he was about to say. The shirt was lifted to cover his eyes, peeling off his chest, and by the time he could see once more, two vanara women had appeared to his left and right. One took his shirt and passed it to her own tail, flicking it to hang on a wall rack that he hadn’t noticed— to be quite honest, he hadn’t noticed there was an entire wall there— before reaching out, deft fingers working at his belt.

A nervous, excited lump formed in Mui’s throat. He tried to swallow it, but all that achieved was an audible gulp.

The vanara woman to his left giggled. “First time, sir?”

“That’s… well, yes,” he said timidly, unsure of why he was suddenly feeling embarrassed to admit he’d never visited a brothel. Then his eyes widened at what he might have inadvertently implied. “That is, this is my first time visiting a, uh, business like yours. Is what I meant.”

All three women surrounding him laughed. It was a torturously pleasant sound, practiced and refined. A part of him knew they were employees, women of service, and he couldn’t take their kindness for anything other than what a shop owner might say to negotiate a sale, but it was awfully hard to remember that in the moment. They just seemed to be having fun. Perhaps they were such skilled actresses that he couldn’t see through their facade, but he thought not. Why would the wealthy of society spend their money at a place where the women didn’t enjoy what they did?

His belt rasped as it slid off his waist. It, too, was tossed behind him, and before he could process even that, three pairs of hands were resting against the waistband of his underwear. The women smiled at him as they began to pull downward.

Good gods, he thought. No wonder so many visited this place. This must be the height of self-indulgent depravity.

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Evie Brown

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“Harder,” she slurred, looking up at the bulky, soot-covered man who stood over her. He pulled his meaty fist back again, but hesitated, conflicted.

“Harder!” She shouted.

Pain bloomed across her cheekbone, a radiating shock that filled her head with the most pleasant of buzzes. The back of her skull bounced off the stone table as she rejoiced in finally, finally finding someone strong enough that she didn’t have to pretend to be hurt by their pathetic blows.

Evie let out a low, contented purr as the man flung her onto her side, driving himself deeper into her cunt. She’d done good work with him so far. Managed to drag him back to the pay booth three times now, even if it took him longer each time to recover between bouts.

I’ve been such a good kitty, she thought dizzily, watching the man’s eyes squeeze tight as she forced her inner walls to clamp down on him. She kept bucking her hips, working her lower body up and down. The sooner he filled her, the sooner the next could visit her.

Have I made enough money? Evie wondered. She started to glance at the pay booth for some sign of her progress, but was interrupted by a cock slapping across her cheek.

Evie’s mouth fell obediently open, drooling tongue falling to ease the thick length’s way into her throat. The person– she couldn’t tell who or what they were, not with their hips already slapping against her brow– wrapped their hands around her neck, squeezing down. It was something she’d taught the crowd early on: her body could take worse punishment than any whore’s, and it was a perfect way to ensure her throat stayed even tighter than normal while they fucked it.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t remembered to take a deep breath this time, and so she began to bob her head in time with the thrusts slapping against her face. The last time she’d passed out, the brothel workers hadn’t let the crowd keep using her body, which had cost her valuable time. She’d resolved to not let it happen again.

Gods, I hope I’m making enough, she thought as wet gags were forcefully pulled from her throat. Master has grown so much better about punishing me.

Her body began to shake. Both because the man between her legs had begun to fill her with his seed, and at the thought of what Master might do to her if she failed.

Once upon a time, Master wouldn’t have actually done a thing. Punishments for sexual failure were nothing more than sweet nothings whispered in her ear, threats that helped drive her delight higher. On many occasions the collar had made her believe them, but once the orders were lifted, she was left with a clear, disappointed mind.

If I fail, I deserve it, she said to herself. The man between her legs slipped away, quickly replaced by someone else. They tried to tease her, rubbing the head of their cock against her aching pussy, but she wouldn’t let them. The moment she felt them line themselves up, her legs closed, dragging them inside her.

With the early days so far gone, her Master had improved. The guilt she felt for punishing Evie had faded with every bitten-back moan as a whip cracked, every throaty gasp when a slap landed on her skin. Master had expanded her own limits bit by bit, piece by piece, dragged deeper by Evie’s incessant, unending pleading. It had been so hard for Master to understand, sometimes. Hard for even Evie to understand, at first. But it was undeniable. Deep in her soul, there was something that needed to be put in its place. Some part of her mind that did not just crave the lash, but fed on it, lived off it. For her whorish body to be given a ‘reprieve’ instead of well-deserved punishment was the only act Evie had deemed too cruel to suffer.

Her vision began to fuzz, thoughts melting alongside her limbs. The cock in her throat still had not cum, and she’d begun to run out of air. Distantly, at a growing remove from her own body, she noted her legs slowly slipping down and away, her arms uncurling. Her heart pounded with excitement. If I pass out, her delirious mind reasoned, I won’t earn enough. Master will have to punish me, won’t she?

Whether it was that thought or her own exhaustion, Evie stopped fighting her failing vision. She fell slack, wrists dangling off the edges of the stone table, her legs abandoning the hips of whoever was fucking her.

She giggled into the cock that was choking her. Master had gotten so good at giving her punishments, now. Whether with paddles, whips, piercings, or even, when she’d earned a particularly exquisite night of pain, blades, Master had taught her body how to behave. The only thing Evie truly feared was the final punishment: deprival. Master would refuse to use her, and she was disallowed the touch of anyone and anything else. She could still service others, of course, that was why her body existed, but she wasn’t allowed to so much as approach a climax. That was the worst punishment she’d suffered through, though it had only happened a few times before. She wondered if this would earn her that torture once more.

She hoped so.

As if spurred on by the sight of her collapsing body, the cock in her throat began to throb. She didn’t have the energy to help it on its way anymore. She barely noticed it was happening. If it wasn’t for fists suddenly tightening around her throat, twisting hard, she wouldn’t have felt it at all.

Evie’s body rolled in pleasure as she felt that thick, fat cock bury itself deep in her throat, her lips pressed to the base of its owner’s pelvis. She didn’t reach a climax of her own, not in the traditional sense, yet she felt something pop behind her eyes anyway, her mind reveling in the joy of a purpose fulfilled.

The cock slid out of her throat. Evie sucked in a great lungful of air, then began to cough as that gasp pulled spittle and other fluids with it.

She looked around, searching for the next person even as she kept coughing. She could feel her tits bouncing on her chest with every hard thrust from the figure between her legs, and satisfying as it was, her throat felt so empty. The crowd kept trying to give her time to breathe, time to recover. She didn’t know why they cared; every moment they weren’t inside her was coin they’d wasted. She wished they’d just use the holes they’d purchased already.

A figure stood over her. Evie’s watery eyes blinked several times at the shadow, uncomprehending. She couldn’t get her vision to clear, and so, to demonstrate what they should be doing, held her mouth open, dangling her neck off the back of the table so they’d have an easier time cramming themselves into their rightful place.

A cock landed on her chin. She smiled gratefully, nuzzling up into it, hoping they’d take her soon, teasing them with a quick lick–

Evie’s eyes shot open.

“Mmhashhter,” she rasped. She could barely get her abused lips, tongue, and vocal cords to form words. She frantically tried to roll over, hands slapping uselessly at the stone table as she searched for the leverage which would let her press her face harder into the cock laying across her face. “Mmhasterh, Mashteruh, Mmmasther-!”

“Fuckin hells, did she just recognize you by taste?” A voice asked.

“Yes,” Master said simply, one hand going to stroke the side of Evie’s head. She could feel drool pooling in her mouth, her body preparing itself for its owner. “She’s a good little whore, isn’t she?”

“Pretty good,” the other voice grunted. “Fuckin’ expensive, though.”

Master’s voice was strange. It sounded different, and Evie didn’t know why. That didn’t matter, however, because Master laughed, and that meant she was good, she was being good.

“You paid for fifteen minutes with a hole, or until you came. If you wanted to stay longer, you should’ve lasted longer. Not her fault she could get you off in two minutes.”

“Little bitch wouldn’t let me pull out,” the man spat.

Evie grinned stupidly, giving up on getting Master’s cock down her throat. Instead, she began to press prideful kisses to its underside. The man was right. Evie hadn’t let any of them, not one, pull out. She was making so much more money that way, because they would always be forced to watch while their friends continued with her, and that would work their appetite up once more. She’d been such a good whore.

“You’ve got no idea how lucky you were to even see her body, much less feel it.” Master chuckled. “You’ll never know how lucky, really. Now, toy? Listen up.” There was a pause, then another quiet laugh. “If you can hear me, stop kissing my cock.”

Evie tried. She really did. But the little tastes that got between her lips were too much, too wonderful, for her to abandon. She couldn’t stop.

Master’s cock suddenly lifted itself up and away. Evie shuddered as it left, feeling it slide across her skin. So big. Bigger than she normally got, even. Had she really been so good?

“Bad kitty.”

Evie barely had time to feel the terror that was inspired by that statement before Master’s hand struck her across the cheek.

Hard.

Evie’s head jerked to the side, a ripple of popping noises rolling up her neck as it was twisted by the force of the blow. The sound echoed through the chamber, silencing everyone, even the professional prostitutes working at the booth. Master held her hand up over Evie, letting blood drip back onto her face for a moment.

“Holy shit,” the woman between Evie’s legs exclaimed, aghast. “What the fuck is wrong with you-”

Master seized Evie’s right arm around by the bicep, jerking hard. Evie gasped in delight as she felt her shoulder nearly rip itself from the socket when Master swung her, throwing her across the room. She hit the dirty, grubby stones on her left shoulder, rolling hard for a dozen feet until her back slammed against a cool wall.

“None of you have any idea,” Master announced as Evie brought herself to hands and knees, “just how lucky you were tonight. You’ll never get another glimpse of someone like her again. What’s worse, none of you used her like you really could have.”

Evie crawled on hands and knees, scrambling as fast as she could manage. She hadn’t been given permission to stand. Someone reached out to try and stop her, saying something insane about ‘not having to’ or some such, but instead of halting her, they found themselves knocked over by the attempt to restrain her. Evie ignored their cursing as she left them behind.

“The public use section of the night is over,” Master announced. Through her blurry vision, Evie saw her pop out the tail of a coat as she dragged a chair from under the table, sitting down with legs spread wide, hands behind her head. “If anyone touches my toy without her permission from this moment on, I’ll let her do whatever she wants to you. Now, a lot of you might be planning to leave after hearing that. But if you want to find out exactly what you could have had for yourself, y’know, if you’d actually had the balls to get rough with her, feel free to stay and watch.”

Evie groaned pitifully as she reached Master once more, shoving her cheek into her owner’s bared crotch. She rubbed up and down, delighting in the scent that began to fill her head. A hand tangled itself in her hair, dragging her closer, and Evie whined in excitement.

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