Mui Thom
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When he first joined the army, Mui had been taught the signs of heat sickness. For young soldiers marching hours a day in shining steel armor, it was an incredible risk. He had known many who had suffered from the illness during the early weeks of training, and he’d come close himself on a number of occasions. He’d staved it off with cool canteen water and frequent breaks beneath shady trees, loosening his armor as much as he dared to let air blow across his foaming fur.
He could recognize the symptoms in himself now. Profuse sweating, heavy breathing, and confused speech were the most obvious clues. If that was all there was to it, he could have happily removed himself from the bath and sought out a cooler rest area, confident he’d done the right thing. But it seemed that there were other circumstances that could bring on those same symptoms.
Thin fingers worked firmly through the fur of his back, pressing a tastefully scented soap into the pores of his hidden skin. The catfolk woman was half bathing him, half massaging him, with her emphasis on the latter growing with each passing minute. He was fairly sure that he’d been clean for a very long time now.
The same two vanara women from earlier were still in front of him. Sitting on a submerged bench, Mui’s legs were spread out before him, floating weightlessly in the wonderful water. The vanara women had each wrapped a tail around his legs, tensing and relaxing the dextrous limb in rhythmic patterns as they slid it up and down, moving from his thighs to his calves, then to his ankles, eventually on down to the calloused pads of his feet, then back up again. Their hands spent most of their time on his arms and shoulders, kneading out knots of tension he’d never noticed before.
Physically, Mui had never been so relaxed in his life. If it weren’t for the women holding him, his head would have slipped beneath the water long ago. Mentally, however, he could not bat away his nagging concerns.
This is ridiculous, he thought, even as he groaned in satisfaction. I do not deserve this treatment. This is a luxury for Visyas and Warriors, not some lowly Imperial Sergeant.
It seemed Sara’s beliefs had affected Mui more than he’d thought. When he wasn’t distracted by swaying breasts half-hidden beneath the soapy water, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for this luxury. It seemed ridiculous for him to be soaking in such decadence so soon after taking the city. Outside the walls of this brothel, while Mui was receiving massages and the purchased affection of beautiful women, there was so much more to be done. Rebel sympathisers to be uncovered, city streets to be repaired, arms and armor to be acquired. Yet he was leaning back in a heated bath, resting his head on the welcoming shoulder of a beautiful woman whose name he didn’t even know.
Despite those concerns, he couldn’t bring himself to reject the women’s ministrations. They were inordinately good at what they did, and he doubted he’d ever have a similar opportunity again.
And, he silently argued, if it is truly Sara’s beliefs that inspired me to feel guilty, why should I regret indulging myself in a gift she treated me to?
Sighing, Mui endeavored to let the stress of his mind flow out of his body as easily as the stress in his muscles. He let his eyes close, leaning back further. He could feel the fur of his head tickling and intermingling with the fur of the shoulder behind him, and he didn’t even let himself think of what her scent might have been like if it hadn’t been mixed with so many stranger’s. For a woman whose work was laying with others, he could even imagine she considered that mingled scent a point of pride.
In a cruel twist of fate, it was only once he’d managed to relax that the time seemed to fly past. Before he knew it, the women were guiding him up and out of the pool, handing him a towel to wrap around his waist. They didn’t give themselves the same courtesy, however, and simply stood in the nude, smiling lightly at his strained attempts to maintain proper eye contact.
“Are you ready?” One of the vanara women asked, eyes glittering with a restrained mirth. “Or do you need more time to prepare yourself?”
Mui ran his tongue along the tips of his canines, considering. Eventually, he realized something important.
“What, exactly, am I getting myself ready for?” He asked.
The women blinked at him. Several more in the baths, further away, snickered.
“To see a courtesan, of course,” the catfolk woman said, as if it was obvious. “What else would you be expecting?” She smirked slightly, the tip of her tail flicking. “You didn’t think it would be all of us here in this room, surely?”
Mui sputtered out a laugh. “What? No, of course not. How could anyone expect to be with, what, two dozen women at once? Nothing about that would work.”
“It does,” she stated plainly.
Mui’s laughter slowly petered off. He’d expected more to that reply. Some sort of caveat, an explanation of what she meant by having a few dozen women attend to a single man. When it became clear nothing was forthcoming, he coughed.
“No,” he reaffirmed, “I didn’t think that.” Mostly because I didn’t know it was possible. “But this entire ‘event’ was set up by Sara, and she can be terribly unpredictable at times. Enjoyably so, but still. Her creativity invites trepidation.”
“She’s such a dashing woman,” the vanara woman on the right sighed dreamily. Mui still didn’t know their names, and he hadn’t asked. He had heard that those who sold their body didn’t use their real names, and feared even asking might be rude. “If only I could learn more about that creativity firsthand.”
“You could just ask her,” Mui said with a shrug. “I’m sure she would.”
The vanara’s lips quirked into a slight smile. “She would what, Mui Thom?”
“Have sex with you,” he said matter-of-factly. He wasn’t a fool or socially inept, despite what his relative inexperience seemed to have led these women to believe. “I truly think that if you simply asked her, she would. If she’s not busy or in public, at least. Outside those circumstances, I haven’t seen her turn down a proposition yet.”
That got a reaction from more than just the women Mui was talking to. The quiet whispers of the bathhouse picked up a touch as the workers began to murmur lurid things to one another.
“Well,” the vanara woman said, “I suppose you’re not quite as naïve as I thought you were.” She bit her lip with a fang, which looked quite attractive. “You’re telling the truth? She really would?”
Mui laughed. “You’re beautiful, ma’am. I’d be shocked if she did anything less. Though I’d caution you against propositioning her in public. The way she is with her wives, it would seem that particular line is getting thinner every day.”
“Wouldn’t mind being the one that snaps it,” the vanara muttered.
“We really ought to be getting to your appointment,” the tiny catfolk woman said. “Before all that straining to keep your eyes off our chests turns you blind.”
Several women laughed at that, and as Mui began to follow them towards another door, he made a deliberate effort to relax his neck and untense himself. That was quite difficult to do when there were three sashaying tails bobbing right in his line of sight, promising him quite the view if he just gave in and looked down.
Vanara don’t even walk with their tails raised, he thought stiffly, grinding his teeth. They’re just doing that to tease me.
It was working. The women kept glancing backward as they led him around the pool, trying to catch him peeking, but he met their eyes each and every time. It was a narrow contest, however, and one he doubted he would have been winning for much longer. Thankfully, he was saved by them presenting a single door to him, identical to all the others.
“Your courtesan awaits you, Mui Thom,” the tiny catfolk said, presenting the door with an elaborate, overdramatic gesture.
“Thank you,” Mui said, because he didn’t have anything else to say. Licking his whiskers back, he opened the door a crack and stepped quickly inside, turning around to close it before anyone in the baths could catch a glimpse within.
“Hello at last,” a woman’s voice said. “I’d complain you kept me waiting, but I can’t truly blame you. It’s a wonderful sight out there, isn’t it?”
The voice was high-pitched, with a bouncy, almost rhythmic tune to it, as if the speaker were close to singing. He turned to look, and almost immediately found himself enchanted.
The woman was laying on her side with her head propped up on an elbow, watching him enter. Long, sleek legs rested atop one another on a silken shroud, caramel skin bare and smooth as the bedding she lounged across. Her hips had a gentle curve to them, leading up into a thin, wispy figure, but one that paradoxically seemed to lack nothing in curves, as if she were built not to walk across the ground, but to float, drifting from breeze to breeze. Her breasts were no more than a handful each, nipples pink and creamy, a stark contrast against the darker sweeps of skin that coated the rest of her body, and he found himself dazed by the mere sight of them, as if he were unfit to behold such beauty.
That was an effect that grew precipitously when his eyes finally clawed their way upward, landing on her face—
And her long, pointed ears.
She was an elf.
An elven… prostitute?
“Well?” She hummed playfully, shifting her hips. “Have you just come to stare?”
Mui stared. “I don’t understand.”
The elf threw her head back and laughed.
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Evie Brown
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Master’s cock was different. More different than it had ever been, for as much as that could be said about something which constantly shifted length and dimension to better please its recipients. As it rested on her face, heat wafting off its surface like a bar of molten iron, she found herself struck dizzy by its weight. Its size. It crested over her nose on one side, and fell off her face to the other. Easily thicker than her wrist. Perhaps even thicker than her forearm. She couldn’t bring herself to lift it away for a better view.
Instead she knelt there, basking in its presence. Breathing hard as she knelt beneath her owner. Master had never given her this. As was her right, of course, it wasn’t Evie’s place to make demands, but still. So big. There were reasons Master didn’t usually do this, after all. There was no way for Evie to please it in any meaningful way, beyond licking and worshipping the surface— which she would never refuse to do!— but such meagre efforts brought her owner pitifully little pleasure. Evie’s desires did not matter.. No matter how much she enjoyed the thought of impossibly large anatomy, inspired as she was by the videos Master had shown her from Earth, there was no way to-
“Suck it.”
Evie leapt hungrily at the tip, using both hands to bring her tongue onto its rightful place. The tangy, salty flavor of Master sent a pleasant shiver down her spine, and she began to dutifully lick as much as she could, moving her head when necessary to ensure she covered as much area as possible.
Master’s grip on her hair tightened, a second hand joining the first.
Evie’s eyes widened at a familiar motion. One she’d felt so many times before. Master pulled Evie’s head back, until the head of her cock was resting against her lips alone.
It was impossible. It wouldn’t fit. Evie didn’t care if it would hurt her of course, in fact she would relish it, but trying to fit that massive thing down her throat would hurt Master, and that was unacceptable.
Evie was not a flawless slave. She had vices. Desires, even, though she knew she shouldn’t when she was beneath her Master. It was a good toy that desired to please their owner, was it not? Even if those desires sometimes led her astray? She opened her mouth wide, staring up with pleading eyes.
Her head was slammed down without warning, piercing her lips with thick, hot, throbbing flesh. Her throat bulged out obscenely far, and despite it all, the pain she’d expected, the stinging burn of her body pushed too far, never came. Her throat did not accept Master easily, of course; there was an ache to it, a certain almost-painful stretching sensation, but nothing more. That almost-pain never became a true hurt, no matter how long it spent teetering on the edge. It was as if her body had finally caught up with her soul, accepting its role as Master’s cocksheathe.
As quickly and brutally as Master had shoved her head onto her cock, it still seemed to take forever before Evie’s nose bumped into the soft skin of her pelvis. She was impaled on cock, and she couldn’t control the way her tail began to twist and curl, hips wriggling and thrusting in gleeful excitement.
She could feel that satisfying stretch thrumming all the way down her throat, then, impossibly, even further. With how much had been crammed into her, she should have felt it well past her breasts, yet the signals sent to her mind told her Master was all still lodged firmly in her throat. The paradoxical nature of what was happening to her was confusing for a time, until Master groaned in satisfaction and adjusted her posture, causing a stirring sensation.
In her chest.
Evie could have wept. She was, in a way. No one could take this much cock down their throat without their eyes tearing up. But Evie was more lost than that. She could have sobbed in joy, her entire sense of self falling deeper into the love and fanatic obsession she felt for her Master.
She’s bent me to her whims. Not just my sex, but my body itself. With the collar first, her magic now, everything I am is just putty in her hands.
Evie couldn’t cry out her thanks or moan her delight with a cock in her throat, she knew that, yet she couldn’t stop herself from reacting. All she achieved was a buzzing hum against her owner’s cock and tears in her eyes. A purr began to rumble out of her chest all the same, from where she didn’t know, and she heard the blurry visage of her Master hiss in pleasure.
“That’s better. Good girl.”
Evie’s tail flung out straight behind her, fuzzing up wildly, while the ears hidden beneath her head wraps trying to flutter forward, straining to drink in the praise she’d worked so hard to earn.
The massive cock slid out of her throat, leaving her dreadfully empty, a hunger for its return pooling in her belly. Master didn’t even draw out far enough to let her take a breath before pulling Evie back onto her cock, filling her whole. Evie’s tongue, despite being pinned to the bottom of her mouth, tried its best to work and lick at the skin that slid past her, endeavoring to thank Master for a gift unlike any other.
“Good girls get to touch themselves, you know.”
Given permission to be anything other than Master’s cocksleeve, Evie’s hands flew upward, seizing the base of her cock and beginning to squeeze and pump, working to help Master fuck her face even faster.
Master laughed. “Gods, look at you. I was going to say you’re a whore, but-” Master briefly choked on her words as Evie began forcing herself forward of her own accord, “-but even whores have something else to them. You don’t, do you?” Master threw her hips forward, groaning as she bounced off Evie’s face. “Not even a whore. You’re just… my… toy…”
Evie bobbed eagerly at every word, throwing herself forward and back. Master’s cock was so long that it was awkward for her to drag Evie’s head up and down its length on her own, and Evie couldn’t accept the way each stroke had a moment of hesitation, Master’s arms at the extent of their length. In those moments she used her own body to fuck her face against Master, completing every stroke with as much force as she could.
She was not the only one awash in new sensations, it would seem. Far sooner than was normal, Evie felt Master’s cock begin to flex, its thick length swelling even larger. Master’s panting breath, which had begun so low and guttural, was climbing higher and higher, slowly turning into girlish whines of pleasure.
Suddenly, without a word of warning, Evie felt the fingers in her hair dig deeper as her head was slammed against Master’s crotch hard enough to send a flash of intoxicating pain through her head. She wiggled deeper into the position, her own eyes fluttering as Master’s voice reached a soft, quieter keen, her act of a brutal tyrant slipping as she let out a soft, loving cry of “Evie…!”
Frozen in place, Master’s cock pumped once, twice, and then Evie felt a burning heat spill deep inside her, coating her throat as it was shot deeper into her body than it had been before. Master’s legs clamped around her, shivering and shaking as she lost control of her hips, thrusting against Evie’s face with those lovely, wonderful little whimpered groans of satisfaction.
It was a sight so wonderful, the experience of being claimed before a crowd so exhilarating, that something began to trickle its way through Evie’s veins. The drip soon became a stream, then a flood, until, like a lightning bolt on a cloudless day, an inexplicable flush of pleasure roared through Evie. It was an all-consuming climax that should have been without reason, but it wasn’t, because Evie knew what it was, knew that her body had been given to the altar of Master’s worship, and that her mind couldn’t stop rewarding every part of herself for her final surrender, sending crackling white satisfaction up and down her body, around and round, the pleasure of orgasm not shooting out from her legs or on her clit or even her violated throat, but simply existing everywhere, all at once-
Evie collapsed. She sagged, unable to support the weight of a feather, much less her own bodyweight. She heard the wet shlick of her throat falling off Master’s cock, and felt it leaving her, but she would only remember that later, looking back. In the moment, there was nothing left between her ears other than the fading pink sparks of an explosive climax, one that left a dumb, happy smile on her face.
Master pulled her off the rest of the way, letting her breathe once more. Evie would later remember taking a slow, gentle breath, barely disturbed, as if she could have spent an hour further impaled on cock without issue.
Master bent over her, whispering into her cloth-wrapped ears.
“I realized something, you know. My Blessings let my partner change to fit what we both want. That was wonderful, and I loved it, but there were limits to it, of course. People could only ever get what their bodies changed to have sex, and only have those changes be something they really, really wanted, all the way deep down inside themselves. Passing little fantasies, shameful fetishes, or idle curiosity, those aren’t enough for it to work on.”
Sara kissed a hidden ear, making Evie mewl weakly. “But with you, it doesn’t matter, does it? Because all you want,” she kissed the other ear, “is to please me, isn’t it? My fantasies, my smallest little desires, they’re everything to you, aren’t they?”
Evie nodded her head, a stupid, drunken smile on her face.
“I know they are. Good Kitty.”
Another wave of orgasm, smaller than the first, washed through her.
“So now that we know this, Kitty, you know what we’re going to do?”
Evie shook her head. She didn’t. She didn’t know anything, right then.
“I’m going to put you on your back. And I’m going to take this cock,” its wet length slapped against Evie’s pelvis, reaching up past her breasts, “and I’m going to shove it up your dirty little cunt until I can feel you choking on it. Because you are mine.”
Evie giggled happily.
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Mui Thom
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“It’s just… I don’t know,” Mui said, sighing heavily. He tapped his knuckles against the bedding, trying to unravel his tangled thoughts. “You are an elf,” he repeated yet again, each time phrasing the statement almost as if it were a question. “I cannot have… have sex with one of the Honored Elven, can I?”
“I’m naked, aren’t I?” She reminded him, helpfully shifting her chest to better face him to illustrate the point.
It had been about fifteen minutes of Mui’s inarticulate waffling by that point, and he was no closer to figuring out what had sent his mind into such a dizzy spiral. The elf– Veyoh, she’d said her name was– had sprawled out across the bed, casually lounging in a manner far too alluring to be anything other than calculated. Her dark eyes and creamy skin kept sucking Mui in, at least until he realized how terribly he was staring, and then he would jerk upright, perched on the edge of the bed like he was sitting in front of a wall lined with rusty spikes.
“You are,” Mui agreed with a dry throat, “but why? You are an Honored Elven, ma’am. A holy arbiter of our High Emperor’s most holy will. To lower yourself to such a profession is… it’s unthinkable.”
One sleek, trimmed eyebrow crooked upward.
“‘Lower myself’ to this profession, you say?”
“No!” Mui all but cried out. “No, no, I did not mean that ma’am. I deeply apologize. I only meant that this work, it is…” He groped for a polite way to express the belief that she’d rightly accused him of holding. “It is not the calling of an Honored Elven, if I am to believe what I have been told. Those of your illustrious station are great warriors, master artisans, and seekers of ancient truths. Not…”
“Whores?”
Mui jerked as if slapped. “Courtesans, I believe Sara said the profession is best called.”
“I feel rather like a whore.”
Had he not spent months listening to the foul, acidic cynicism of Sara, he would have fled the room there and then. With that experience, however, he knew it best to just continue on as if Veyoh had never spoken.
“But make no mistake, ma’am. My most sincere apologies if I am incorrect, of course, I have never spoken with one so Holy as yourself–”
“You have bedded Emotion’s Chosen,” she interrupted, holding back a mirthful chuckle. “Quite regularly, if she spoke truthfully in our correspondence.”
“Correspondence? She planned this? Requested you, specifically? For me?”
“Did she not tell you she’d planned all this out?”
“She did, but I never imagined she would specifically request an Honored Elf for me to… to…”
“Fuck.” Her eyes glittered with a mischievous light. “You’re familiar with the word and its like, I assume? She was going to have you plow me. Ravish me. Screw me.”
“I-”
“Rail. Bang. Nail. ”
“I didn’t-”
“Fornicate. Mate. Breed.”
“Certainly not br-”
“Inseminate. Copulate.” She cocked her head, thinking. “Bone. Or… hm. Make love to?”
“Oh, gods, no.”
She laughed, using her arms to throw herself up on the bed, dark hair reflecting the crystal-light in shimmering waves. As she crossed her legs and rested her hands on her thighs, Mui could practically see the facade of sex appeal fade away from her. Even knowing it was exactly why she had done so, Mui could not help but feel more comfortable around her now that her posture was so much more casual.
“Truly, Mui Thom, what bothers you so? Are you so wrapped up in your honoring of elves that you would turn down a pleasant evening with a beautiful woman?”
“But you are not just a beautiful woman,” he all but pleaded, both hands wringing the towel that was still wrapped around his waist. “You are a leader of my Empire. One of the most revered, ancient people in all the world, doubtlessly possessed with all the grace and wisdom your untold years have bestowed upon you.”
“Is that what they’re teaching the mortal youths these days? I ask genuinely, Mui Thom. You’ll have to forgive my ignorance. I stopped attending my lessons when I was thirty.”
“And how long ago was that?” Mui found himself asking.
She smiled. “A question for a question, then. Is how you just described the ‘Honored Elven’ what you were taught to believe as a child?”
Given an escape from talking about anything remotely near sex, Mui took his time considering the question.
“After a fashion,” he eventually said, chewing on his words even as he spoke. “It’s not as if there were lessons I was sat down for, given lists of facts and falsehoods to memorize. It was simply what everyone said whenever the topic was broached, and so it was what I knew to be true. Even after two centuries of war, the Honored Elven are still those who rule us all. They are the uniting force of these lands, and they are the reason our great Empire has not collapsed entirely. The mere presence of one such as yourself has stopped the sacking of cities, and it was others like you who ordered the Archmages to desist from their massacres in the earliest years of the war. Without you, without Honored Elven like you, there would be nothing left of the land to fight for. Not even anyone alive to fight for it, I suspect. My ancestors would have been but dust on the wind, killed long before I could have been born. You are an Elf, ma’am, this is obvious. But we call you Honored for a reason.”
“Mm.” Veyoh absorbed his speech politely, looking intrigued to hear him speak, but showing no emotion beyond that. When he was done, she moved on without a reply.
“How old do you think I am, Mui Thom?”
“I haven’t the faintest clue, and I know well that I never could guess, ma’am.”
“I am younger than this war, Mui Thom. Only a hundred and seventy; barely more than a whelp, as these things are reasoned. I began my current profession only fifty years ago.” She smiled faintly, reflecting on some nostalgic memory. “Too young for the work, I know now. But it was something to do, and it wasn’t a place I thought likely for my minders to find me.” She shrugged, making her breasts rise and fall in a terribly distracting way. “After a while, I found I enjoyed it even more than I’d expected. There’s so many ways to spend each day, but precious few of them give you as many truly memorable moments as work in a brothel.”
Her smile faded slightly. “I’ve met some childhood friends in recent years. I recognized them easily. Too easily. They’d spent their time doing the things you so praised. Carving works of art, honing their skills with a blade, or wallowing in ancient esoterica. To them, once they found something to stir their passion, every day became the same. They woke, worked, played, and slept. Progressing in their chosen walk in life each day, true, but never in anything else.”
She looked him in the eyes. He saw nothing of the welp she claimed to be in that dark gaze.
“Can you imagine that, Mui Thom? Parting ways with a friend for fifty years, meeting them again, and finding they had not changed in the slightest way? That they still styled their hair in the same way, still wore the same clothes, still had the same voice and still laughed the same way?”
“No,” Mui said, once the silence stretched long enough it was clear she wanted an honest answer. “No, I cannot imagine that. I joined the army five years ago, and last saw my family four years ago. I doubt anyone I grew up with could recognize me now. Not at a glance, certainly.”
“And yet I’ve never met anyone I grew up with who has honestly, truly changed. Except me. It’s… lonely, I suppose. Sad. But good, too. Because it means I have changed. That I’ve done things and seen things that made me pause for thought, reconsidering something I believed before.”
Veyoh fell back onto the bed, spreading all four limbs wide, staring up at the ceiling. “Did you know I’ve already seen a pair of my regular clients die of old age? A pair of minor nobility from a nearby village who could only rarely visit the city. They were a common sort of customer; men who preferred women, but found the loveliest sort of exception in one another’s embrace. They still enjoyed the novelty of a soft woman beneath them, however, and I was lucky enough to be a favorite of theirs. After a while, I was their only. Visiting the city as rarely as they did, they always made sure to write ahead to ensure I would be available.”
Veyoh laughed lightly. “I once canceled a trip to visit my home when I received one such letter, Mui Thom. They were so lovely. The way they could share me between them, yet walked in and out of the room with eyes only for one another?” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, giving herself a squeezing hug. “It was more beautiful than any elven poem or sculpture. I’ve not seen something so simply pure as those men before or since.”
Her expression fell. “They started coming to me when they were in their thirties. Then there were thirty pleasant years of them visiting me once a year or so, until their bodies no longer allowed them to enjoy me in the way they once had.” She sighed. “Yet they visited anyway. Wrinkled, gray old men, taking a pretty elven whore out for the best wine their meagre estate could afford. The looks we got, Mui Thom, you wouldn’t believe them. And then…”
Veyoh trailed off, sighing even deeper than before.
“They passed?” Mui provided gently, speaking so quietly he was nearly whispering.
“They passed,” Veyoh nodded. “Almost ten years ago, now. First one, then the other right after. Conjoined deaths like that are common for mortals, I understand. No matter how healthy the body, life requires a soul that wishes to continue living. It’s something we elves do not know.” She shook her head slightly, pushing the distraction away. “Their children were rather confused that they left orders for a city elf to be notified of their passing, but thankfully, they did so without much questioning. I still think about them.” Her lips split in a half-grin. “At tax season, of course. That was always when they came to the city to do business. How many other folks do you know that consider the collection of taxes a romantic time, hm?”
Despite the suddenly dour tone, Mui chuckled. “I’ve never met one, I’m afraid.”
“Neither have I. Another thing I’m rather alone in.”
The moment stretched long, though the silence didn’t seem half as uncomfortable as it had before.
“Why did you tell me that?” Mui eventually asked. “It was a beautiful story. You have a gift for speech. But why tell me of them?”
“Because,” she said, rolling onto a side, her voice picking up some of the low, sultry tone she’d used before, “I think you have a chance at living a story like that, too, Mui Thom. The way Sara wrote of you?” She laughed yet again. Mui didn’t think he’d met anyone who seemed to laugh as easily as she did. Not while meaning it each and every time. “She was hiring a whore for her boytoy, but her letter spent more time telling me of your accomplishments in battle and the spotless honor of your conduct than anything else. I know quite a lot about you, Mui Thom. About the way you don’t just act to do the right thing, but do so without thought, as if doing anything else had never once occurred to you. The way that you proudly wear the sword of a sergeant, but haven’t ever once drawn the blade in anger, and don’t seem to have yet realized you’ve never even tried to learn how to fight with the thing.”
Mui started. His hand reflexively tried to go to his hip, but there was no scabbard there.
I haven’t, he thought, shocked. I’ve never even sparred with it. Why?
“You see?” Veyoh asked. “She knows things about you even you don’t. It’s not my place to give a name to how she thinks of you, but I know what word I’d use if I did.”
Mui’s tail frizzed out, his whiskers twitching in a terrible blush.
“What does that have to do with us being in this room together?” He pressed, trying to flee from the terrifying ideas her words sought to imply. “Why would she push me into your bed?”
“Oh, me?” Veyoh touched a hand to her chest, as if she’d been confused this entire time and only realized what he was really asking. “Me, specifically? Why did she ask that you sleep with a pretty little elven whore? Well, besides the fact that I’m the best fuck in this whole building by a laughable margin– She told me her reasoning outright. She wanted you to realize my kind aren’t a fraction so special and mysterious as you have convinced yourself we are.”
She put a hand on the fur of his knee, right where the towel ended. Her fingers began to slide upward, teasing at the edge of the cloth.
“And I assure you,” she purred, “if you’ll have me, I can show you that I am nowhere near a pure, holy angel.”
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Sara Brown
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The head of her cock lay on Evie’s collarbone, shaft resting between her breasts. It also lay on her ribcage, her stomach, her pelvis, and a bit of it was even suspended in the air before it met Sara’s hips. It was proportionally thick, too, which meant it was bigger around than Evie’s fist. As big as Sara’s fist, really.
She had always known she could control her size. She’d even guessed that, judging by the way she’d never had to struggle to make it bigger and bigger, whatever limit she might have was a long way away. She’d just never pushed it too far because, despite how much Evie wanted to get (terrifyingly literally) split open by cock, Sara wasn’t willing to hurt her quite like that. For whatever reason, there was a divide in Sara’s mind. It was one thing to play to Evie’s fantasies, to give the sexy little masochist the pain she loved so much, but to do it with Sara’s own cock? To make it so the very act of finding physical pleasure with Evie was causing her genuine, actual agony? Even if they fixed whatever happened with healing potions after, she couldn’t convince herself it was sexy. Slapping, hitting, whipping, those were one thing. Sara didn’t want her actual genitalia to cause pain. A weird line to draw, considering just how much she and Evie had done, but it was one she’d never wanted to cross.
But now? Sara blew out a hot breath, sliding her cock back and forth on Evie to enjoy the silky smoothness of her skin. Now, Sara knew, she could change Evie’s body. The slutty little masochist that was panting under her cock could actually take something like this. Contrary to any and all logic she’d used to navigate the rest of her life, some undefinable sense was telling Sara that this monstrosity would fit. That Evie’s body had been altered, or her cock had some kind of magic, or something else she couldn’t even describe. Whatever it was, Sara knew, knew beyond certainty, that this cock could get shoved up in Evie.
She’d never been into this kind of thing before. Back on Earth she’d gotten off to plenty of cartoonish, unrealistic porn– hell, she’d had a whole backlog of tentacle porn that she’d showed Evie– but she’d never been a size queen, much less into the kinky extremes. She’d slept around with enough dudes to find a few with big enough dicks to bruise her cervix, and that decidedly painful experience had killed any lingering interest she might’ve once had in giant cocks.
Being on the other side, though? Well, Sara had never considered that. She’d never thought she’d know what it would be like to have herself looking down at a pretty little woman trapped beneath her cock, one who was visibly salivating at the scent of it. When Sara had fantasized about having a dick of her own, she’d never imagined how sensitive she’d be if her length wasn’t just double the average, but ten times it, and she had all that much more sensitive skin to rub back and forth.
Evie’s hands reached up, landing on Sara’s cock. She began to stroke it, using both palms and all her fingers. Sara groaned at the sensation, thinking Evie was doing it just to please her, only to see the little catgirl straining her neck forward with her tongue extended, desperate to get even a single drop of precum in her mouth.
Sara couldn’t take it anymore. She drew herself back, shoving Evie forward on the stone plinth she’d spent the last couple hours getting fucked on.
Her cock dropped down, landing just before the dripping crease of Evie’s thighs. Sara felt the heat that had been pressing into her cock redouble, a burning furnace of arousal an inch away.
The audience began to murmur. Some were disgusted, more were intrigued, and some, if only a few, were absolutely, unbearably turned on by the sight. Sara felt certain that more than a few people were going to be heading home with a new fetish rattling through their skulls.
That was the whole crux of setting up this scene for Evie. Having her, at Sara’s behest, get used and abused by a crowd, only for her real owner to come and put all their efforts to shame. It didn’t matter that Sara was wearing an illusory disguise, that Evie’s distinctive ears were hidden beneath a wrap. What mattered to Evie’s twisted little fantasy was that she, her beautiful body on display, got to show as many people as possible their place: below Sara. Above Evie, but below Sara, who was in control of her. She wanted to give this crowd the kind of fucking that none of their wives and husbands could equal, then tear it away from them, humiliating them with the sight of a woman so superior to them that they could only meekly slink away, touching themselves to the memory.
Sara supposed she should have said something to the crowd. That would fit in with the whole weirdass group-reverse-cucking thing Evie’s unique cocktail of mental illnesses had cooked up.
But honestly? With a quivering, dripping, needy woman spreading her legs in front of Sara’s massive cock? What else could she be expected to do?
Sara pressed forward until her head pushed against Evie’s lower lips. The catgirl shivered, a hungry look in her eyes as she watched. When Sara just stood there, not going any further, her attention snapped up to Sara’s face, lips parted as she panted.
“Please, Master? Shove it in me? I want it so much. It hurts without you in me. I feel so empty.” She wiggled her hips, trying to force herself down on the massive head, but she had nowhere near enough leverage. “I’ve been a good girl, haven’t I? I’ve done what you asked. I’ve been so good, Master. Good enough for your cock?” She rolled her hips, grinding against Sara. Desperate for friction. “I don’t care if it hurts. I just want you. I want to make you feel good. I want you to fuck me. Fill me. Use me to make yourself feel good. It’s what I’m for. It’s why I was made. It’s why I made myself into this. All for you.” Lustful tears began to bead in her eyes. “Please. Let me be a good girl, Master.”
Sara had wanted to tease her longer. To let Evie soak in her need. But goddammit, even the Champion of Amarat had limits.
She bent forward to grab Evie’s hips, pulling her down. The catgirl’s tight entrance resisted at first, pressing hard against the head of Sara’s cock, but she didn’t stop.
Evie’s head dropped back to the stone with a groan, her hair tangling as it was dragged out into a wide halo. Her body’s natural tension, the instinct to hold itself still and in position, faded into a relaxed, pliable mush.
Sara felt the tip of her cock break into something hot. Something that had a growl rolling out of her throat and a purr coming from Evie’s.
Her fingers curled tighter into the soft skin that hid the layers of muscle wrapping Evie’s hips. She began to pull, not hard, but firmly.
With agonizing slowness, Evie’s pussy began to split around her. The catgirl’s purring kicked up a few decibels, accompanied by a soft, languid sigh.
It was so fucking tight. Fucking Evie with this cock didn’t just feel like it should have been hurting her wife, it felt like it should have been hurting Sara. Evie’s cunt was clamping too hard, like it should have cut off her circulation.
But it didn’t. Their bodies melded together with every creeping second, the impossible sensations improving without end. She was tight. It felt like Sara’s entire existence had narrowed down to one spot, the part of her that was in Evie, with Evie, coaxed inward by velvet heat.
“M-maaaster,” Evie whined pitifully, reaching out to put a hand on Sara’s forearm.
“F-fuck,” Sara breathed, her eyes twisted shut. “Fucking… You’re so tight.”
Evie tried to say something else, but cut off in a yelp when Sara’s boiling pleasure surged, nearly collapsing one of her legs. The sudden fall had Sara shoving the entire head of her cock in faster than either of them had been ready for. The sensation of it was incredible, and only grew moreso when Evie’s walls rippled in climax around her.
She was stretching Evie out. Whatever had happened to the catgirl’s body, it was still happening. No. She hadn’t even changed, yet; she was being changed. Sara’s cock was forcing her inner walls wider and wider, and her body was being forced to accept that, making room for Sara.
She felt drunk. Drunk on the power of it, of her cock literally forcing Evie’s body to change for her. She was molding Evie like clay, making her into a perfect little idol of sex and pleasure.
She shoved even further. It was hard to move forward, Evie’s body constantly working to envelop her, milk her, too greedy to know better. It was like her cock was being massaged along every inch, and it was tighter than anyone she’d ever fucked before.
“Yours,” Evie murmured, slurring her words nigh-nonsensically as she looked down at herself. Following her gaze, Sara could see a bulge pressing up from Evie’s stomach. “I’m yoooours,” Evie tried to say again, but the words fell apart into a moan as the arousal they summoned made Sara’s cock twitch.
Sara was panting like she’d run a marathon, but she didn’t feel tired. Her entire body was shaking with the effort required to restrain herself, to stop herself from abandoning herself in the luxury of her wife’s body.
“Do it,” Evie said. Her tail flipped up from under her back, curling up and around to brush lovingly against Sara’s arm. “Do it. Shove it in. Fuck me. Come on. I’ll handle it. I always do.”
Sara couldn’t talk. She could only shake her head in denial. Evie hadn’t complained, hadn’t even shown that she was feeling the slightest bit of pain, but she wouldn’t–
“Please,” Evie whispered. “It’s okay. I trust you.”
Oh, you fucking bitch.
With a low, involuntary grunt, Sara lost control. The hands she’d had on Evie’s hips flew up to grab her by the wrists, then pulled as hard as she could.
Embarrassingly, she came.
No, fuck that. It wasn’t embarrassing. The entire thing was too much. No one would have resisted the sudden rippling of their cock plunging into Evie’s depths, the way Sara could see it shooting upward, the way Evie’s perfect tits bounced beneath her gasping face, it was all way, way too much.
The length impaled through Evie began to jump, pulsing, and Evie cried out, twisting in Sara’s grip, her entire writhing body serving to jerk Sara off. It lasted five seconds, then ten, then twenty, their cries mingling together. People watching were saying something, but Sara didn’t give a fuck about them, because she could feel her entire cock throbbing, could feel the way Evie’s cunt was clenching down on her, desperate to take everything it could get of her cum.
Even before the last aftershocks of Sara’s orgasm began to fade, she was pulling her hips back. The cold air against the base of her cock was unbearable, but she didn’t have to worry about it long, because she was throwing herself forward as soon as she couldn’t pull any further out without letting go of Evie.
Something I’m not going to do for as long as I fucking live, Sara managed to think, when she had the time between wild cries of ‘holy shit’ and ‘this feels so fucking good.’
Sara began to thrust, in and out, forward and back, using Evie’s arms like ropes to drag the catgirl fucktoy whichever way she wanted. Evie’s smile had returned to her face in a lopsided, perverted fashion, and even though Sara knew her wife would have enjoyed it, she was relieved to see that there wasn’t even a hint of pain. Just pure, unfiltered joy, every inch of Sara’s cock filling her head with blissful, snowy static.
The first load she’d pumped into Evie began to fall out around Sara’s cock, staining the stone, the loss making the girl whine in disappointment, but that didn’t matter. There was so much more of it waiting for her, and Sara had stopped giving a fuck about putting on a show a long time ago, which meant she was racing towards that eventuality as quickly as she could.
“S-so. F-fucking. B-big,” Evie managed to gasp out, every word turned to stilted stutters by the force of Sara’s cock bottoming out in… well, right beneath her collarbone, as absurd as that was to say. “L-love you. L-love you s-so much.”
“You just…” Sara panted, “love this… fat dick…”
“Y-you,” Evie barely responded. It was taking everything she had to form the words. “Y-your c-cock. F-face. H-hair. A-arms.” She threw her head back with a keening cry, her cunt turning to a vice around Sara as she climaxed again, only to bring her focus back down even as she kept trembling through the orgasm. “Iiiii love y-y-yoooou.”
“Fu-u-uck off,” Sara moaned, falling forward until she was bent over Evie, almost entirely buried to the hilt even when thrusting in a way that should have had her entire cock pumping in and out of Evie’s pussy. She dropped to her elbows, pressing their breasts together. She could feel her own cock between them, both on her stomach and between her breasts, even feeling it through her cock itself, the pressure of her own body weight adding to the dizzying sensation of it all. “Fucking… cheater! We were supposed to have a- a scene, w-with the sp-spectators, a-and-!”
“I want y-you,” Evie’s trembling voice said back, not even pretending to deny what she was doing. “I want your c-cum. I want y-you to cum inside m-me, I want you t-t-to fill m-me up, I love you, I love you I love you…!”
With a silent shout, Sara wrapped her arms up and around on Evie’s shoulders, straining her muscles like she was doing a pull-up all just to drag her entire body down, forcing her cock just that tiny bit deeper into the living heaven that was her wife.
Even before Sara’s cock started to throb, Evie came. An entire bodylength worth of cock was suddenly attacked by the throes of climax, and it felt like nothing Sara had ever known. The way her body was molded to Evie’s, the way she was deeper in her than ever before, combined with knowing she was lost to her own climax? It felt like they were melting into one another.
Sara’s cock clenched. Something burning hot, even hotter than the wealth of heat surrounding her, shot upward, her legs freezing as she cried out so quietly no one could hear, “Evie!”
Her mind was torn to tatters as she came, her hips pumping forward in mindless micro-thrusts. She felt Evie’s stomach began to swell, higher and higher, pushing Sara upward, and she still didn’t stop cumming, couldn’t have if she wanted to, and she sure as shit didn’t want to, because it was like she was knocking Evie up, not just for play, but finally, finally for real.
When it was over, Sara was left laying atop Evie’s swollen stomach, their chests still pressed together. She noisily sucked in a bit of drool that had begun to dangle from her lips at some point during their shared climax, only for her eyes to focus on Evie’s disappointed face, her lips still pursed and stretching out.
“Oh, sorry,” Sara whispered, petting her head. “Were you going to take that?”
“Yes, Master,” Evie rasped. She’d been screaming, apparently. Sara had been too lost to hear it.
“Here.” Sara tilted her head and leaned in for a kiss, gently slipping her tongue into Evie’s mouth. Her wife murmured happily, suckling on it, shivering at the taste.
Sara pulled back fairly quickly, once she’d given her a good taste. Evie didn’t even complain. Judging by the peaceful, happy expression on her face, she’d probably forgotten the entire concept.
“Up you go,” Sara said, wrapping her arms around Evie as she stood, keeping her cock firmly lodged inside. It’d be a fucking mess if she didn’t.
“O-oh,” Evie said, her exclamation of surprise distorted by a loud purring. Sara wanted to shush her, since Feline purrs sounded very different to the part-catfolk she was pretending to be, but she knew her wife couldn’t control it.
Besides, it was cute as hell.
Sara began walking Evie out of the room, feeling dozens of eyes on her as she went. Cum was leaking from Evie’s pussy with every step, leaving a trail of it on the floor. She didn’t know what the fuck they’d make of that, or the entire fact that they’d just watched a “slave” get fucked by a cock as long as their own torso, but she’d stopped caring a while ago. Evie had cum a couple dozen times until she had that adorable vacant smile on her face, and that meant the scene was over.
Besides, if the point was to have Evie humiliate the crowd by showing how much better she was with Sara than with them, there wasn’t much better of a way to do it than her being carried out of the room still impaled on Sara’s cock.
Sara took her around several corners, wandering the empty hallways of the lower brothel. This was where the lower-paid prostitutes worked, mostly the sort who needed income while they were between jobs. In another brothel, this would have been a dingy, disgusting area, barely taken care of, but Anaka’s elite clientele required her to maintain a better reputation. Sara eventually decided on a random door, booting it open so she wouldn’t have to stop hugging Evie as she walked into the room. She kicked it shut behind her, then walked over to the room’s lonely seat, slowly pulling Evie off her cock.
“Mmmnnnnooooo!” She cried out petulantly, like a child being told they had to go to bed.
“Sorry, sorry, I know,” Sara said, trying to control her own body’s reaction to the rippling friction that was torturing her through the whole motion. That was one problem she’d found with a goddess’s Blessings removing her refractory period and giving her an endless libido. Stopping sex was no longer an inevitability, but rather a test of willpower.
And with Evie shivering in climactic aftershocks, breathing hard as her eyes flicked between Sara’s tits and cock, all while still looking decidedly pregnant? That was one hell of a test.
The moment Sara’s cock finally slipped free, a torrent of cum followed, spilling out onto the floor. Evie leaned her head back and let out a groan, feeling it leave her, and even that peculiar sensation seemed to set another mini-orgasm rolling through her.
Sara, meanwhile, brought her cock back down to something closer to its usual size. She thought about vanishing it entirely, since it would almost certainly get hard again in a few minutes, but decided she wasn’t mean enough to deny Evie her eye candy.
When Evie stopped shuddering, the waterfall of cum little more than a trickle between her legs, Sara knelt down, patting her thigh to get her attention.
“Evie?”
“Mmmugh?”
“Evie, listen up.”
Giving her an order worked. The wrap around her head twitched, her ears trying to turn towards Sara. Behind her, her tail began thumping against the wooden chair’s back.
“What’s my name, Evie?” She asked as she reached up, beginning to unwind her ear wraps.
“Mmmaster!” She cooed happily, tilting her head back to lick the sweat off Sara’s forearm.
“No,” Sara said, using one hand to grab Evie’s chin and tilt it back down, so she could look her in the eyes. “Focus. The scene’s over now, Evie, so I want you to focus on yourself, alright? What’s my name?”
She blinked owlishly, clearly confused. “I said your name, Master?”
“Mm,” Sara hummed noncommittally. That answer wasn’t surprising. She finished revealing Evie’s ears, chuckling slightly as they sproinged up into their usual perky posture. She gently pet the back of each ear for a brief moment, not enough to arouse Evie further, only helping smooth out the bedhead from her soft coating of fur.
“Your hanky,” Sara prompted, holding out a hand.
Without a second of hesitation, Evie reached out and summoned her enchanted spidersilk hanky, letting it fall into Sara’s palm. It was, as always, sparkling clean. Folding it up, Sara began wiping off Evie’s forehead, clearing the sweat and cum away with quick swipes, steadily working her way downward.
“Thank you for your hanky. It’s very helpful.”
Evie smiled, bobbing her head in an unsteady nod. “I know. You gave it to me, and I love it.” She blinked a few times. “I love you.”
Sara smiled. “I love you, too, Evie.”
She spent a few minutes more slowly working her way down Evie’s body, asking her questions every now and then. Nothing complicated, not yet. Just things like “Is this chair comfortable?” or “Did I miss a spot?” or, especially when she was cleaning up sensitive spots like her breasts, something as easy as “What’s your name?”
Of course, she didn’t get it right at first.
“Yours,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Sara said patiently. “What’s your name?”
She watched the cum-gunked gears of Evie’s brain grind. “...Slave?” She guessed.
“Not quite. What’s your name?”
Evie brightened. “Oh! Toy! I’m your toy!”
Sara shook her head. “Still not there yet. Hm.” She brushed the hanky over Evie’s nipple as quickly and clinically as she could, ignoring the gasp it provoked. “How about this: what does my dad call you?”
“Evie,” she said easily.
“So you are?”
“Yours.”
Sara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. With phrasing like that, that last one had really been her own fault.
It went on like that for a while. Evie sitting obediently still as Sara cleaned her, asking questions that sought to slowly pull her psyche out of subspace. Conversations like this were usually only necessary as a comedown after a collared scene, but even without the collar’s influence, this had been a particularly intense night.
Silently, Sara wished Hurlish had come along with her; their mutual wife had a way of getting Evie grounded that even Sara couldn’t replicate. Something about Hurlish was just… more real than the rest of them. She was a working woman, one who didn’t bother losing herself in fantasies to enjoy a good time. Sara thought it might be because Evie’s subconscious knew what Hurlish really wanted was Evie, the real her, but she couldn’t be sure. The only guaranteed way Sara had found to instantly yank Evie out of subspace was to mention Tahn, but that had instantly become one of the incredibly rare red lines she drew in the sand. Tahn wasn’t to be involved with their sex life, ever, even if it was only to help prove to a cumbrained Evie that yes, the sex really was over.
By the time Sara was wiping down Evie’s legs, they’d reached the point that she could call herself by her own name, knew that she hadn’t really just gotten pregnant (something she’d apparently convinced herself was true of her own accord), and was even referring to events happening several days in the future, proving she was capable of thinking of anything other than getting Sara’s cock shoved in her again. Of course, most of those future events were circling around Hurlish’s fingers or Sara’s cock, but still, it was progress.
There was still one major obstacle, however.
“What’s my name?” She repeated.
“Master.”
“No. What’s my actual name?”
“Owner.”
“Still no.” Sara lifted one of Evie’s legs, spreading her toes so she could wipe out the cum and sweat that had collected there. “I’m almost done cleaning, and once I am, we’ll have to go outside this room. You can’t be calling me Master or Owner out there. So what’s my name?”
Evie squirmed in place, looking away as Sara handled her feet. No one could lie to Sara, but at that moment, Evie couldn’t have lied to the blind and deaf. She was pretending to be ticklish in order to avoid answering the question, and she was doing it with all the guile of a guilty child. She even had the little squirming smile on her face, as if she was actually getting away with something.
Sighing, Sara finished cleaning her wife up, setting the hanky aside. The moment it wasn’t being handled, the enchanted silk rejected every bit of grime it had collected, letting it slide off as if its surface was completely frictionless.
“Evie,” Sara said, still kneeling between Evie’s thighs. She put both hands on Evie’s knees, spreading them open a touch, so she could see her core. Cum still leaked from it, occasionally dripping onto the chair. “I’ve got one last place to clean, and I’m going to use my tongue, which means I’m really looking forward to it. But not if I’m cleaning a toy or slave. I used those, and I loved it, but now I miss my wife.”
Evie squirmed more, looking away. She was on the edge now. She’d recovered enough of her senses to know that she could slip out of her mindset, but she didn’t want to. It was comfortable in there, and she always seemed to think she’d stop enjoying herself once she let herself become more self-aware.
Sara and Hurlish had been working on that, naturally, but it was a slow process. Talking privately, they’d considered the idea that she might always be like that. Sinking as deep as Evie did made it hard to come back to the surface. If that was the case, well… they still loved her. They just wanted her to be happy.
“Evie?”
“Mm?” She hummed, barely stopping herself from saying Master?
“Remember what I said earlier? About figuring out some new things about how my Blessings work?”
“...Yes?”
“Well, there’s more. It’s not just useful for making your body different.”
With Evie’s attention fixed on her, Sara opened her mouth and let her tongue roll out.
And out.
And out.
Lizardfolk had long tongues. A serpent’s split-tipped tongue, to be precise. As several women had helpfully proved to Sara an hour or so ago, that tongue could stick out very, very far. That had been amazing enough on its own. But when you put that tongue in a human’s mouth, without the long muzzle it had to slip out of?
Well. Suffice to say, if Sara had seen a chick in some Detroit club use her tongue to fix the part of her own bangs, she would have done unspeakably embarrassing things to get that woman in her bed.
Sara wiggled her foot-long tongue back and forth, intentionally letting drops of saliva roll down its length, rubbing against her still-naked breasts. Evie watched, eyes wide, as she bent it into a loop, then a double-loop, and then twisted it all around and pierced it through, tying a knot. With her own tongue.
Suck my dick, cherry stems.
Unraveling it, she sucked her new tongue back into her mouth, smiling innocently up at Evie. “Slaves and toys don’t get this tongue. But my wife does.”
“I already said my name was Evie,” she said urgently, her chest rising and falling fast.
“What’s my name?”
“I’m Evie. You’re married to Evie.”
“You know I’m smart enough to see what you’re trying to do.”
She watched Evie tremble indecisively. It didn’t last long, of course. Her hands gripped the chair, looking at the saliva on Sara’s tits, then up at her lips.
Sara flicked her tongue out, scenting the air.
Evie groaned, slumping in her chair.
“Oh, fuck you, Sara- Shit!”
The very instant Evie cursed, Sara had given up pretending she wasn’t fucking starving for her wife’s cunt. She grabbed her ass and dragged her to the edge of the chair, slamming her face into Evie’s pussy.
She halfway lost control of her new tongue as it fell out of her mouth, slapping wetly against Evie’s still-soaked slit. She began frantically licking every which way, collecting as much of her slick as she could, and all the while she was nuzzling deeper into Evie’s abruptly clenching thighs, teasing her wife’s clit with the tip of her nose.
“O-o-oh my gods,” Evie gasped, grabbing Sara’s head in both hands. “Good gods, you are-” The tip of Sara’s tongue accidentally slipped away from Evie’s pussy, ending up tickling the side of a thigh. Evie laughed boisterously. “Oh. Oh, please, just- oh, I was going to say inside but- shit- it doesn’t matter, does it?”
Sara didn’t think it did. She was supposed to be cleaning Evie, and that meant she was going to lick everywhere she could. Thoroughly. And with a tongue like this, she could be very, very thorough.
But she’d have been a damn liar if she wasn’t interested in going inside, too. The thirty seconds or so she spent working Evie’s clit and lips seemed roughly equal to fifty years in Horny Sara Years, so she thought she’d earned her fair share.
Sara pulled off for exactly as long as it took for her to take a single breath and spread Evie’s lips wide, exposing her cum-stuffed pussy. Then she dove back in, feeling that inordinately long tongue sluuurp out of her throat into Evie’s pussy.
“Good- fucking- gods!” Evie gasped. “Why couldn’t you… before? Oh, shit!”
If she actually wanted an answer from Sara, she shouldn’t have sounded so heavenly. There was no way in hell that Sara was going to stop, not when she finally had the eternally flatfaced Evie– not in subspace, but the real Evie– cursing like a sailor. Sara had never tried heroin, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t shit next to the sounds she was pulling from her wife.
And her own cum, of course. Lots of people had said Sara’s cum tasted amazing, wonderful, the best thing ever and yadaydaya, but she couldn’t taste it, and infuriatingly, they always said they tasted something different. Sweet, tangy, fruity, or some blend of other descriptions, she’d heard it all. A few even could say exactly what it tasted like, usually their favorite kind of drink or treat if the flavor had been cranked to eleven, but even they had conflicting descriptions.
She wouldn’t ever know, because to Sara, her cum tasted like… well. Cum. That was fine, because Sara had never disliked the taste of cum. She enjoyed it, really, if only because of some very deeply ingrained pavlovian training. She didn’t love that flavor as much as Ketch or Evie, not most of the time, but…
When her own cum was mixed with Evie or Hurlish’s slick arousal? When she could taste the way she’d been inside her wife, had spilled herself in them, when the flavor on her tongue was proof that she had, in some atavistic way, claimed them as her own?
It didn’t matter if her Blessings worked on herself or not. That flavor was already her favorite thing in the whole world.
As her tongue forced its way into Evie’s squeezing tunnel, Sara began to test her new appendage’s limits. Coiling up into a thick, writhing ball, then punching forward, licking everything she could reach, only to pull back and away, letting a curl of her tongue slip out just far enough to hook around Evie’s clit, rubbing back and forth.
And, of course, dutifully scooping the cum into her mouth, swallowing it all. Just because she’d let a gallon or five spurt on the floor ten minutes ago didn’t mean she should be rude and add more. She was conscientious of the hard job cleaning staff had. Which was definitely the only reason she was swallowing her own cum out of Evie like she’d die without it.
Honestly, between the two of them, Sara couldn’t tell who was getting more out of it. It’s not like they got the chance to do this all that often. Hurlish would’ve slapped Sara upside the head if she’d walked in on this. Back before they’d left Tulian, when Evie didn’t need to be combat-ready all the time, their wife went so far as having Evie keep a dildo lodged inside her for hours and hours every time Sara came inside her. Hurlish had all but said she hoped the contraceptive potion would fail, despite its thus-far perfect track record, which meant they had…
Gone along with it anyway. Nobody would have been too heartbroken if Evie got knocked up, really. Least of all Evie. Besides, what were they going to do? Tell Hurlish no?
Sara was pulled from her fantasies when she felt Evie’s hips jerk even harder against her, coinciding with the tip of her forked tongue brushing against a subtly different texture, one that there was no way past.
So what’s what it tastes like, Sara thought, adding more of her tongue to the pileup at the end of Evie’s pussy. With the lizardfolk tongue she had, she wasn’t just tasting Evie’s cum-soaked cervix; she was tasting flavors she didn’t have words for, and in a strange, indescribable way… smelling it, too? Maybe? It was an entirely new set of sensory information she’d never dealt with before, and it would have been disorienting if she was anywhere other than twelve inches inside Evie’s pussy. Thankfully, that was territory she knew well, so it was a good place to start.
It wasn’t going to last for much longer, though. Sara had found every drop of her own seed there was, which meant she’d switched to throwing all her efforts into making her wife cum. She kept a bit of her tongue outside to loop and swirl around Evie’s clit, while the furthest extent was brushing up against Evie’s cervix, flicking back and forth, applying pressure to the place that she– unlike Sara– loved to have pounded so hard.
Evie was losing it. Her curses had faded to whimpers, then to outright moans, until finally she was breathlessly pleading for more, more, more. Looking up at her, Sara saw she had one hand rubbing her palm into the base of an ear, grinding back and forth, while the other she’d clasped around her own throat, applying just enough pressure to tinge her face red. Her eyes were closed, hidden beneath the tangles of hair that had long since been pulled free from their tight braids, and her lips moved silently, little more than Sara’s name repeated over and over again as ripples of pleasure danced along her skin.
Against her will, one of Sara’s hands fell from her knees, reaching down to her– apparently her pussy, she didn’t know when that change had happened– and began tightly circling her clit. The lightning bolt of pleasure that went through her, brought on by seeing Evie chanting her name, not calling her Master or Owner or anything else, was almost embarrassingly intense. She tried to hold off, to slow enough to calm the pleasure shooting its way up her spine, but she didn’t have the self control for it.
Sara began frantically fucking her own hand as she ate Evie out, racing the climax that was coiling in her stomach like twisted cable.
“S-Sara,” Evie rasped, the orgasm that began to roll through her forcing her cries loud enough to overpower her own choking. “Sara, Sara, Sara, gods, fucking gods I love you…!”
If she’d ever had a less glorious climax in her life, she couldn’t remember it. The husky way Evie said her name had her cumming so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that her legs splayed out beneath her, causing her chin to fall from Evie’s pussy to bounce off the wooden chair, slamming her teeth shut on her tongue even as it was unspooling from Evie’s pussy.
“Thit!” She cursed in a strangled, garbled cry, half in the pleasure still shooting through her and half in pain from biting her tongue hard enough to draw blood. The mess still coating the floor meant she didn’t even lay with her head on the chair, but was forced by her own convulsing to slide backward, letting her head fall all the way to the ground, eighteen-inch tongue slapping wetly into the same puddle of white cum she suddenly found the left side of her body soaked in. Things only got worse when she reflexively tried to sit up, only for the second wave of her orgasm to take the strength from her left arm once again, collapsing her to the floor, this time with her entire head in the cum, which promptly soaked into the long waves of her previously flawless hair. Her thighs, meanwhile, were still clenched around her right hand, her hips bucking feverishly into the fingers pinching her clit.
Above her, Evie was still in the throes of her own climax. Blinded by pleasure, her hands groped in the empty air, trying to drag Sara back into her pussy, only to give up and fly there themselves as Evie began to frantically finger herself, totally oblivious to her crumpled, bleeding wife, who was, to be fair, still shaking her way through her own orgasm.
When Evie’s climax finally passed, she slumped, once again limply waving her hands around.
“Sara? Sara, where are you- Good gods!”
“Mmfine,” she mumbled. Her tongue, the traitorous bastard, was still licking the cum on the floor. She hadn’t even thought of that, but she should have. It had been in Evie, after all. Of course it would taste the same.
“Is that blood?”
“Bith my tongue…”
“What?”
“I. Bit. My. Tongue.” Sara enunciated. Then she licked up more cum.
“You did? How…?” Sara looked away as Evie began puzzling the pieces together.
And kept licking the cum. Gods, she loved the taste of Evie.
Reality clicked into place with a roaring laugh. Evie was laughing, a deep, genuine belly laugh, holding her stomach. Sara felt a blush, an actual fucking blush, begin to spread its way down from her cheeks. It was horribly embarrassing, but gods, if this was what it took to make Evie laugh like that, she’d do it every damn day.
Especially if it meant she could taste something like this more often. She was still licking the cum. Couldn’t stop herself, really. A lizardfolk’s tongue was too good at tasting flavors for her own good.
Maybe I shouldn’t tease Ketch so much…
“Come here,” Evie said, reaching down to help Sara up.
“Mmmmmmdonwannaaa,” Sara mumbled, resisting the tug upward. “Jutht goth you clean. Don’ wanna mesth it up.”
And besides that, the cum tasted really good. Also, she was still making Evie laugh. She didn’t want to stop that, not ever.
And… the cum tasted really, really good. SO fucking good. Shit. Was this what it was like for all of them? Is this why they liked sucking her dick so much? Fuck, she’d never have normal sex again if this is what her cock tasted like. That was why Ketch was like that, wasn’t it?
“Fine,” Evie said, and Sara saw a shadow move above her. “But if you’re not coming up here…”
Warmth pressed up against Sara’s back. A small little bundle of soft, toned body squeezed around her, rolling in the mess with her. Sara’s right hand, one finger of which was still lightly circling her clit, got knocked away and replaced, Evie’s expert fingers taking its spot.
“I’m sure Mui is having fun with his elf,” Evie whispered in Sara’s ear. “He won’t mind if we take a little extra time, will he?”
“I gueth not…”
“Good. I want to take a nap.”
The finger on Sara’s clit began circling faster. A tongue began running its way down her neck, to her shoulder blade, lapping up the cum that had soaked into her skin.
She had a sneaking suspicion that they were not, in fact, going to be napping.
“Waith,” Sara said, looking over her shoulder. Evie lifted her head up, tongue still extended and coated in white. “We never tell Hu-lith, Mui, Vetha, none of them about that, right?”
“No,” Evie said, dipping back down, her fingers picking up the pace.
She really hoped Evie meant “no” in the way Sara had.
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