Queen Yavara: Chapter 4 free porn video

Chapter Four

ELENA

I was more than a little disappointed that the other rangers hadn’t found Yavara’s camp. It was less than a hundred yards from the main road and parked right in a clearing, as obvious as could be. The smell of rotting orc should have at least been a solid clue. I inspected the wound, confirming by the petrified flesh that it had been made by a Nadi arrow. I traced Yavara’s tracks a few hundred more yards into the woods until I found the remains of nine more orcs. I smiled to myself as I looked upon the evidence of Yavara’s marksmanship; every single arrow was a kill shot, not a one wasted. I traced the probable path of the arrows with my finger, locating many perches from which she could have fired.

A smart elf would have high-tailed it to Castle Thorum after the first orc. I thought to myself as I examined the carnage. Yavara was not stupid, but she was certainly a hot-head. Queen Tiadoa thought me to be the corrupting influence, but it was almost always Yavara who convinced us to ditch class. Where Yavara’s mother had been wrong, her eldest daughter had been right; I was deeply, hopelessly in love with Yavara. When we were younger I thought that was just how friends felt about each other. When puberty started to hit, I realized I was different. God had blessed me with an early blossoming, my breasts and backside growing into the shape of a woman’s at a young age. Yavara often admired my figure, and scorned her own lanky body. I wanted so much to comfort her, to touch her, to explore her, but I never did, knowing that if my proposition was denied, our friendship would never be the same. Eventually Yavara grew into her own body, more beautiful than any woman in the kingdom, much to her elder sister’s dismay. The men flocked to the pair of us, but we both shot them down. Yavara denied them because she wanted a ‘real man’ (whatever that was), and I denied the boys because I wanted Yavara.

And if I ever see her again, I’ll spill my soul to her. So many years wasted for fear of rejection.

My eyes finally rested on a tree with a branch dangling from it by the bark. It was about thirty feet up, and would have made a perfect sniper’s perch had it not broken. I traveled directly below the branch to find the shattered remains of Yavara’s bow, a quiver of Nadi arrows scattered around it, and a massive footprint embedded in the dried mud. My heart sank as I traced the path of footprints, the tracks leading deeper into the woods. I collected the Nadi arrows, added them to my quiver, and followed the tail.

I walked step for step with the orc’s prints for three hours until I came upon another clearing, this one with a large tent parked in the middle. I drew my bow and waited for signs of movement. When I was confident that the site was abandoned, I made my way from cover, my bow still drawn. I silently sprinted to the tent and rolled through the entrance, my eyes scanning swiftly. It was almost completely empty, save for a white cloth lying at the edge. I walked over to the cloth and inspected it. It fell from my shaking hands a moment later, pooling at my feet. It was Yavara’s dress, torn to ribbons, crusted with blood and worse.

Oh, Yavara…

My tear-blurred eyes traced the room, looking for clues that could help me track her further. Yavara may have been ruined in the eyes of her father, but I still loved her, and I could never abandon her. My eyes met a third set of tracks, these ones bigger than an elf’s, but smaller than an orc’s. Human, most likely. All three tracks cluttered around the tent until they diverted deeper into the woods. I was confused as to why Yavara’s feet were no longer bound; elves were faster than both humans and orcs over short distances, but it appeared Yavara never made the attempt. Maybe she’d been collared, or drugged. The tracks ended at some Alkandran ruins. I searched for where they continued, but there was no evidence that they went further.

What is it Adarian always says? ‘When the trail goes cold, wait. The forest reveals its secrets to those who are patient.’ I sat by the Alkandran ruins and waited, trying vainly to keep my mind serene and receptive. Two years of ranger discipline kept the thoughts at bay, but they were still there, at the periphery of my subconscious. I’d raided orc strongholds before; I’d seen what orcs do to elven captives.

An eagle flew over my head, it’s screech echoing throughout the forest. Clutched between its talons, was a piece of paper. Not an elven messenger bird, but a wild thing. Adarian, you magnificent bastard.

I downed the eagle with an arrow and rushed to its corpse. I pulled the message from its talons.

“Sherok, the wizard and I are going to Ardeni on important business. I cannot speak of the matter on this paper lest the message get intercepted. Just know that this business is of great importance, or I would not leave you behind. Tell Trenok that he is to be acting chieftain until my return. Make sure the power doesn’t go to his head; I still want my tribe when I come back. I will send an eagle when I know of my return date. Try not to fuck any of my men while I’m gone. Or do, see if I give a shit. Yours always and forever, Brock.”

I looked over the ruins one more time. Orcs don’t just fucking disappear. I withdrew a satchel from my waist, gasped a fistful of powder, and flung it onto the rocks. The ruins glowed neon green, signaling the magic born within.

A portal.

I ran through the forest as fast as I could until I reached the edge. I made my way to the nearest town and flashed my credentials to the stable boy. I gave him a note for one-hundred gold pieces backed by the Bentius Bank before mounting his fastest steed. Before I left, I sent two letters out by eagle: one to Bentius, and one to the elven embassy in Ardeni Dreus. Yavara was in the clutches of Zander Fredeon and Brock Terdini, and they were in the human capital. I was two days’ ride from Ardeni Dreus, a day and a half if I rode the horse to death without stopping. I kicked my spurs into the horse’s side and urged it forward.

ZANDER

“I’m not going to fucking Ardeni Dreus!” Brock roared as he crammed supplies into our bags. “The last time I was there, some dwarf tried to fist-fuck me! The Great Forest is quiet, peaceful and full of unsuspecting victims. Ardeni Dreus is loud, violent, and every mother fucker there is just waiting to stab you in the back. Fuck Ardeni Dreus, and fuck you, Zander!”

Yavara suppressed a giggle at Brock’s anger. I stood with my arms crossed, also trying not to laugh as the orc roared his protests while compliantly packing our bags.

“No Zander, you might bat from both sides of the plate, but I don’t swing that way! Call me old fashioned, but having bearded midgets stick their gauntleted fists up my shitter doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time.”

“Isn’t it funny how homophobes think gay men are always trying to fuck them?” I mused to Yavara.

“One might think they have suppressed fantasies.” Yavara tittered.

“I hope you’re not packing your prejudice in those bags, Brock; we won’t have room for anything else.”

Brock glared at me. “I’ve got nothing against the fags or the short-fucks.”

“Clearly.”

“The alternative-lifestyle-little-people aren’t the problem, Zander.” Brock growled, “It’s that fucking place; it’s toxic. I’ve seen more debauchery on an Ardeni street corner than in an orc rape pit.”

“Sounds like my kind of town.” Yavara winked at me.

“You’ll love it.” I smiled back.

“Do I not get a fucking vote?!” Brock snapped at me. His expression gentled when he looked at Yavara. “My queen, I know Zander is a thousand years old, and he may be the wisest man in the world, but you should heed my council as well.”

“Oh, so now you’re co-counsel to the queen?” I asked, my eyebrows raised.

Brock stopped packing and held his arms out to his sides. “I think that my opinion should be considered. It’s an army of beasts she will be leading; there’s a lot of logistics in raising and supporting an army that you don’t know about, Zander! There’s food, weapons, morale, tactics, strategy, formations and uh… and a whole bunch of other shit that I know, and you don’t!”

I rubbed my chin mockingly. “So, are we to make the chieftain of one of the smallest tribes in the Great Forest the Froktora of an army we don’t have? Maybe we should travel to the Bend and talk with Cermonok; he sure seems to have a better handle on things than you.”

I knew the mention of his rival would push Brock over the edge, and he reacted in a predictable manner. He roared his war cry and charged head-on into me. I pushed my staff to the ground and smirked as he bounced off my arcane shield, his massive body recoiling and collapsing onto ground.

“Stop!” Yavara’s voice cut through the tent. She moved herself between Brock and I, wisely not tending to the orc whose pride was hurt more than his body. “Brock, we are going to Ardeni Dreus to find an old friend of Zander’s; she can help me access my abilities. Once we’ve done that, we will find a way to raise coin and head back to the Great Forest. You don’t have to come, but I need a warrior of your skill at my back in case things get rough, and…” Yavara glared at me before turning her attention back to Brock, “…we need a great military mind to become Froktora of my army when the time comes.”

Brock stood up and dusted himself off, staring daggers into me before kindly addressing Yavara. “My queen, we can go to Ardeni to help you with your powers, but earning money in that place is harder than pulling a tick out of your ass. Everyone there wants something, and you have nothing to offer but your body, and I will be dead before you stoop to such lows. I say we get you your powers, then we come back here and raid stage coaches until we have a fortune. With you and your abilities, me and a band of my best men, and this fucker and his stupid stick, we could hit every merchant from here to the Highlands without a scratch.”

“Without a scratch, Brock? Didn’t this very woman take out nine of your best men with nothing but a bow? How will a band of your second-best men fare against a fully-armed stage coach?”

Brock’s temple bulged with anger. “You put down that fucking stick and say that again, wizard.”

Yavara pressed a hand against Brock’s chest and stared at me in cold rage. “Brock, the reason we aren’t raiding merchants on the highway is because that draws attention. If my father finds out what I’ve become, the whole kingdom will empty into these woods to find me. We do not have the man power to make a bold move, and as much as it goes against your very nature, we need to act with caution for a while. Now as I’ve said before, I will not make you come with me, I’m sure you have pressing matters in your village to attend to, but I would really love to have you by my side. And besides that,” Yavara’s voice dropped seductively as her hand ran down Brock’s torso and slipped into his pants, “what would I do without this to keep me company?”

I’d never seen an orc blush before. Yavara withdrew her fingers, and sucked them as she stared up at Brock. Then she turned on her heal, and winked at me. “Now, who’s going to help me carry these?”

Brock bounded over and picked up all our supplies with one powerful pull. He walked to me and brushed against my shoulder, forcing me to spin on my feet. “You can’t fucking compete, old man.” Brock sneered as he left the tent.

Yavara walked by me with a devilish smile spread across her face. She gave me a soft slap on the ass before walking away, turning her head to the side to see if I was looking. I was. Yavara still wore the she-orc clothing that Brock had given her, and from this angle, I was glad that he did. The chest strap hugged against her muscled back, and the thong disappeared between her full, bronze cheeks. Every step she took was a display of bulging glutes, her hips swaying as she walked.

I wish we didn’t have to get you new clothes.

We stopped by some Alkandran ruins where I had concealed a portal. Stepping through the green membrane, we entered my basement.

“This is where you live?” Yavara inquired, looking at the cobwebbed shelves full of dusty volumes.

“We didn’t all have the luxury of growing up in a castle.” I grumbled insecurely.

Yavara twisted her face at me and walked up the stairs.

“Nice one, dipshit.” Brock growled as he followed her, his thundering footsteps causing my steps to creak beneath his weight.

Please fall.

I followed them up the stairs and into my living room. I pulled out a drawer full of clothing, and showed them to Yavara. “You’re going to need to blend in. As good as you look in that outfit, everyone will just assume you’re a whore, and you will be treated as such.”

Yavara pawed through my collection of women’s clothing, giving me a questioning look. “Why do you have a drawer full of women’s clothing?”

“Zander experimented in his college years.” Brock joked.

“I can shape-shift, and it’s often useful to walk in a woman’s body.” I sneered at Brock, “You didn’t seem to mind yesterday, big boy. Yavara told me there was more than incidental contact.”

“That was different! Alkandi needed my help, and I obliged. But you sure did enjoy the things I did to your tight little-” I put a muting spell on Brock, though he didn’t seem to be aware of it. He continued to yell silently and gesture behind me, miming explicitly what he’d done to me.

Yavara was in a fit of giggles. “In all fairness, Brock did bring you back to life by sticking his fingers in your ass.”

“I’ll be damned if I’m ever going to acknowledge that. Here, try this on.”

Yavara didn’t bother walking into another room, but elected to change right in front of us. Brock stopped his miming and gazed slack-jawed at the Dark Queen’s bronze nudity. She pretended not to notice the two fully-erect men in the room as she slipped on the black dress. It fit her well, clinging to her body in all the right places, the skirt ending just below her cheeks. I noticed Yavara’s sandals were badly worn, so I handed her a pair of boots. They hugged her legs just a few inches above the knee, and I couldn’t help but imagine her bent over a table, her dress hiked up and her boots still on.

Yavara glanced down at Brock’s arousal, and then mine, a thin smile growing from her full lips. “Time is of the essence, boys; we should get moving.”

I groaned in despair, my balls turning blue between my legs. Brock flung up his arms and said something behind my mute spell. I removed it just in time to hear him mutter, “…I’ll just go into the bathroom and finish this myself.”

Yavara and I packed the rest of her clothing into a bag, stifling laughter as grunts and rhythmic slaps sounded from the bathroom. When Brock was finished with his business, he requested an eagle to send a message to his tribe. He wrote his message on a piece of paper he ripped from one of my books (which I was none too pleased about) before sticking it between the eagle’s talons. The three of us walked down stairs, and I opened another portal. Stepping through the portal, we entered a room that was walled off on all sides. I pressed my hand to one of the bricks, and muttered an incantation. A wood door appeared, and we stepped onto the streets of Ardeni Dreus.

Yavara gasped in wonder. The Highlands had a few cities composed of tens of thousands, the capital city of Bentius holding a few hundred-thousand. Ardeni Dreus was a city of millions. The skyline stretched for miles, comprised of towering spires that were hundreds of feet tall, each adorned with a gold statue on its peak that gleamed in the sunlight. The royal palace sat atop a hill in the center of the metropolis, towering over the rest of the city, its colossal golden dome casting a shadow across the landscape. The street we were on was quiet by Ardeni standards, but it still bustled with life from every corner. Horses raced down the road, weaving between trolls carrying heavy equipment on their backs. Men and women shouted from every window, merchants chanted the praises of their goods from kiosks, and pedestrians walked in herds through it all.

Yavara turned to me, her eyes brimming with childish excitement. “Holy shit, this place is amazing!”

I laughed and placed a hand on her cheek, murmuring a spell under my breath. Yavara’s pointed ears rounded, and her irises turned green. She touched a hand to her ear, and frowned. I could tell she didn’t like it, but she didn’t voice her objection. The three of us walked down the street, me leading the way. We dodged traffic and pushed away ambitious venders until we reached a small tavern on the corner called, ‘Rasloraca’s Rathole’. I motioned them inside, Brock bowing his head to avoid the doorway’s clearance. The three of us sat down at the bar and I ordered drinks before explaining the plan.

“The woman who owns this bar is who we’re here to see.” I said, “I’ll go upstairs and notify her of your presence. Don’t worry, Yavara, I trust this woman with your life.”

“But not your own, Zander?” Brock eyed me.

Yavara turned her head with a curious expression. “I’m sure Zander just said that to make me feel safe.”

“Nope.” I poured a shot of whiskey down my throat for courage. “There’s a fifty-percent chance this woman kills me on sight.”

“And the other fifty?”

I wiped the liquor from my lips. “She fucks my brains out.”

“You should marry her.” Brock snorted.

I tidied my hair in the mirror behind the counter. “I did. She’s my ex-wife.”

I left the pair of astonished faces at the bar, and walked up the stairs until I reached the door. Taking a deep breath, I clenched my fist, and knocked. I waited for what felt like an eternity, hoping unreasonably that she wasn’t there. But I knew better. The door creaked open, revealing a pair of white irises baring white pupils, all strikingly contrasted with dark eye-shadow. Lips coated red showed vividly from a pale angular face, its impish portrait framed with curls of shining ebony.

A thin smile crept across Prestira Rasloraca’s lips. “Hello Honey.”

“Hi Prestira.”

She opened the door the rest of the way, exposing her slender, naked body to me. “I’ve been expecting you, though I wasn’t sure until a few minutes ago if I was going to greet you with a crossbow, or my tits.”

“Can’t we just talk like normal people?” I groaned, though my erection tented my robe.

“Didn’t you just tell Yavara and Brock there was a fifty-fifty chance I would kill you or fuck you?” Prestira glanced down, her red lips curling, “Flip a coin, Zander; I can always change my mind.”

I stepped through the door and pulled off my robe. “Sometimes I miss you.”

Prestira pouted her lips mockingly as she wrapped a cool hand around my cock, the slender fingers sliding gently. “Just sometimes?” She asked huskily, “Don’t lie to me, Zander. You of all people should know it’s folly.”

“Get out of my head.” I growled.

Prestira’s lush red lips curled against mine, her grip on my cock tightened. She looked up at me with voracious eyes, and whispered, “Make me.”

I grabbed her by the gap between her thighs, roughly cramming four fingers into her dripping heat. She snarled and hissed, her modest bust flattening on my chest. I kissed her deeply, forcing my tongue into her mouth. She bit down upon it, grinning mischievously with it between her teeth. She had me against the wall a second later, wrapping her legs around my waist, pinning my molesting hand between our pelvises. I could do nothing but grab my cock, and plunge it into her. Tight heat surrounded me, the lewd muscles massaging my length, drawing me deeper, challenging me. Prestira growled into my mouth, her nails digging into my back hard enough to draw blood. I retaliated with a powerful slap across her little ass, my fingers digging into the pliable meat and squeezing the reddened flesh. She let out a yelp and dragged her fingers across my back, leaving thin red cuts.

“It always has to be a fight with you.” I grimaced as I punished her with my driving hips.

“I was going to make sweet love to you until you stuck a hand inside me.” Prestira sneered.

“We’ve never made love Prestira; every fuck we’ve ever had turned into combat.”

“You know you fucking love it.” Prestira moaned as I continued to pump into her, my ass smacking the wall, my cock hitting her bottom. I managed to wrestle her to the bed, but my attempt to pin her was in vain. She whipped us around, straddling atop me like I was a beast to ride, her curly hair a disheveled curtain before a challenging, open-mouthed grin. She grinded her pubis down, taking every inch of me with ease, her nether lips sucking about my length as she rotated her hips to stir her insides. I groaned, lost for a moment in the sensations she generously provided. I shouldn’t have left my guard down. She pressed herself against me, her tits squishing against my chest, her evil smile shining above me. She grabbed my hands and held them behind my head before biting down hard on my left nipple. I grunted in pain, a flash of anger scorching through me. I wrestled myself from her grip and grabbed her by the throat, squeezing until I could hear Prestira’s constricted whimpers choking from her narrowed windpipe.

“You fucking faggot!” She managed to hiss. I slapped her until it looked like she was wearing blush. She cried out delightedly with every strike, her tears mixing with her eye shadow as it ran down her face, her black curly hair a chaotic mess, her pussy gripping me like a vice, milking my shaft with the rolls of her muscles.

“Is that all you got Zander?” She squeaked above my choking hand, “You’ve grown soft, old man. It’s all that time you spend with the elves. Maybe I should teach your lady friend a thing or two when she comes up here.”

Prestira knew that would push me over the edge, and it did. I grabbed a mess of her hair and yanked back, forcing her face to the ceiling, a few strands of curls falling from my hands. Prestira screamed with the exhilaration of it, her pussy clenching around me. I grabbed her right breast with my free hand, deforming the supple meat between gripping fingers.

“That’s it, Zander!” Prestira gasped, her hips grinding violently, her belly flexing, “If you want me to help you, you’re going to have to persuade me!”

I picked her up and pushed her on the table, driving her face into the wood as I took her from behind. Her ass molded to my pelvis, the puffy warmth pressing as she grinded against my linear attack. The table shook violently, the dishes and papers flying off it. Prestira raised a hand and shot a spell from her fingertips. My arms were forced behind my back, and Prestira spun her body around leg-over-leg, and sunk her nails into my chest. I roared, the pain only accentuating the raging pleasure within her, the wild look in her eyes kindling old excitements. I countered her binding spell, and shot one of my own. Two chains descended from the ceiling and two from the floor, wrapping themselves around her arms and legs and pulling her spread-eagle. I conjured a whip in my hand and draped it threateningly across her shoulder. Prestira bit her lip with excitement, nodding fervently for me to continue. She cried out as a thin welt appeared on each breast, then across her torso, then wrapping around her thighs to strike her buttocks, the pale flesh rippling about the cord.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She cried, her body undulating in its constraints, her insides seizing around me, sucking me into her tender heat. She stopped the fifth blow mid-strike, her left index finger pointing the spell above her shackled wrist. The whip rapidly wrapped around my own throat, and constricted. It became harder for me to breathe with each passing second, and though my lungs burned for air, the feeling of Prestira sheathed around me intensified. Her eyes grew wild as she squeezed the whip tighter around my throat, a primal desire to kill and fuck etched across her face. I savored that expression for a moment longer, then disintegrated the whip. She tried a fish-hooking spell, but I was too fast. I spun the chains that bound her, crossing them over each other until she was hogtied, her hands and feet tied together behind her back, her fingers entwined so that she couldn’t cast a spell, rendering her completely vulnerable. I admired the sight of her wrapped in chains and draped across the table, struggling to free herself, struggling to fight the pleasure I wrought with my brutal drives, the pleasure that would be her undoing.

“I should get the orc to come help you out, Zander; you’ve lost your touch!” Prestira shouted back through her moans, her lithe back muscles straining against the chains.

“Shut the fuck up.” A gag-ball wrapped around her face and forced its way between her teeth. I grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled her head backwards, making her to look me in the eye while I had my way with her. Her eyes warped with pleasure and wrath, the ball in her mouth leaked with saliva, muffled screams emanating from it. I kept my grip with one hand and grabbed a nipple with the other, squeezing between my thumb and index finger.

“You got these pierced, huh? Damn shame you didn’t leave the rings in; guess I’ll have to fix that.”

A small gold chain materialized between Prestira’s breasts, connected to each nipple by a ringed piercing. Prestira’s eyes widened as I conjured a bell weight on the chain, her small breasts stretching slightly. She shook her head frantically when I added another weight, her nipples extending to conical points, her cunt coiling around me in gratitude.

“One more?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Prestira twisted in protest, but her eyes begged for it. I added another weight. A stifled scream escaped her mouth as she pushed back against me, her back twitching along the elegant bow of her spine, saliva dripping down her chin from around the ball.

“One more?” I whispered into her ear. She looked back at me, her face full of surrender. She didn’t protest this time, but nodded compliantly. I added the last weight. Prestira arched her back as the sensation took hold of her, the weights clanking together as her body shook with my thrusts. I removed the weights from her chain, and her breasts bounced back in response, the tension snapping in her form. She mewled around her gag, her eyes softening as they looked up at me, full of surrender. She grinded into me gratefully, her motions only for me, graceful and generous. I could feel the pressure in my loins beginning to build. Prestira was contracting around me, her vaginal muscles flexing, her legs shaking with spasms of ecstasy that shot from her pelvis. I let the ball from her mouth loose to hear a string of profanity blast from her lips.

“Say it.” I whispered into her ear, pumping so hard her pelvis bounced off crotch, the reverberations of my impact rippling deep in her clenching cunt.

She gazed from racoon eyes, the liner smeared down her cheeks, a portrait of lecherous defeat.

“Say it.” I hissed.

Her red lips parted, each breath a labor of ecstasy, each exhalation a cry. “You win!” She mewled, her expression supplicant and lustful, “Now fuck me like you hate me!”

I removed the chain that bound her ankles to her wrists, spread her legs, and held her upright against me, her bound hands forced upward behind my head by the chain that hung from the ceiling. Prestira’s back arched against me, her chest jutting forth to display her breasts, jiggling in a circular dance as I drove into her. She tilted her moaning face and pressed her mouth to mine, her tongue wrestling with my own, trying to gain a small victory in her lustful defeat. I wouldn’t yield even a small concession, and I pulled her head from mine with a yank of her hair, and plunged my tongue into her mouth. With a final whimper, Prestira surrendered to me completely. I watched our brutal joining from the mirror on the wall. My cock was a piston, her swollen pink labia pulling outward with my retreat, only to be sucked back in with my thrust. I pressed her against the mirror, her breath fogging the glass as her tits squished against it.

“Look at yourself, Prestira, what do you see?”

“A dirty little slut getting what she deserves!” Prestira cried, the orgasm building within her.

I pressed my lips to her ear. “Now kiss that dirty little slut.”

Prestira tongued her reflection, her eyes closed in bliss as though the mirror was kissing back. The image of my defiant lover reduced to such a lowly state pushed me over the edge. I felt the pressure in my loins build past the point of no return, and I drove my last powerful thrusts into her, forcing her whole body to flatten against the mirror. Prestira panted like a bitch, fogging the glass before letting out a scream. I erupted inside of her. Our voices rang throughout the room as the last throes of our orgasm took hold of us, turning us into heaving beasts; wild eyes and gaping mouths, violence, power, and passion.

Once our duet of perversion subsided, I removed the chains that bound Prestira. She collapsed on all fours, one of her legs still twitching, my seed leaking down her thighs. When she gained her composure, the witch stood up and adjusted herself in the mirror, smiling at me in the reflection without a hint of the challenge she’d showed me before. It was like she was a different woman completely; companionable, gentle and warm, but I knew better. She winked at me as though she read my mind (and she might have), and limped to the table to pull out a long, thin pipe. She packed the bowl with tobacco and took a drag, her body sinking languidly into her chair. “God, I needed that, Zander. No one fucks quite like a wizard.”

“I imagine your need for combative sex is hard to fill when you’re the most powerful being in the city.” I mused.

Prestira sighed. “I’ve tried handicapping myself, but it feels like I’m just pretending.”

“You could always try fucking like a normal person.”

Prestira laughed. “That’s so boring Zander. Sex is a power game, and I don’t want a teammate; I want a competitor.”

I sat back and drew my own pipe, lighting and inhaling deeply. “You’re a twisted individual.”

Prestira smiled back, her disheveled hair hanging in strands in front of her face. “That’s rich coming from you.”

She conjured a silver cloak around her naked body. It was a draping garment that she left open to the pelvis, exposing her lithe torso, and the inner portions of her breasts. She took a dramatic drag from her pipe, then turned her attention to me.

“This one you brought me, she’s different than the others.” Prestira spoke in a professional tone now.

“She has more potential than any of them.” I nodded, “She may be even better than Alkandi herself.”

“I can see her right now, through that door.” Prestira inclined her head, “She’s absolutely glowing with power. And my, my, Zander, she is beautiful. Did you fall in love with this one?” Prestira asked, her tone a little too jealous for my liking.

“I loved all of Alkandi’s incarnations, but I’ve never repeated my mistake. I will never be in love again.”

“You fucked her.” Prestira mused.

“I fucked you too.”

A pained expression crossed her face, causing a ball of guilt to form in my stomach. “Alkandi never loved you the same way you loved her.” She said softly, “You’ve been paying for the unrequitedness of a dead woman your whole life.”

“I know.”

A somber silence filled the room. There was a history between us that could fill a library, but I feared that story was over. Alkandi was an albatross around my neck, that I would not be relieved of it until my death, or until the Dark Queen sat upon her throne. It was only yesterday that I thought I might be freed by the latter method.

“Well,” Prestira said, breaking the silence and flicking the ashes from her pipe. “let’s see her.”

I opened the door and was greeted with thunderous applause. The bar was packed to the brim with patrons, all of them clapping and cheering as Prestira and I walked down the stairs. Brock was beaming from ear to ear, and Yavara was crying with laughter.

I looked at Prestira, who simply shrugged her shoulders. “Times have been rough. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”

“What?!”

“That mirror you so chivalrously made me lick is enchanted, and its twin hangs right above the bar.” Prestira smirked unapologetically at me, “I put a little muting spell on my door so that you wouldn’t hear the raucous, and I took advantage of your… infamous temper. I advertised the event this morning: ‘The Sorcerous of Ardeni Dreus verses the Wizard of the Great Forest.’ And look how packed this place is; I must have made a fortune!”

My face flushed. “I want half your profits.” I growled.

Prestira laughed and slapped me teasingly, “You get my services for free, that’s your payment. Besides, you’ll never have to buy a drink in this town again. I’m somewhat of a minor celebrity here, and you get to be the guy that conquered me in front of half the city. Bravo, by the way. Your performance did not disappoint.”

I grabbed Prestira by the arm and forced her gaze to mine. “Tell me you turned the enchantment off before we had our little talk.”

Prestira just smiled back. “Of course, Zander; who do you think I am?”

We walked into the bar as the patrons crowded around us. I received congratulations and pats on the back from damn near everyone; one little goblin even wanted my autograph. We made our way to Brock and Yavara, who were both noticeably drunk. Brock was telling everyone who would listen that he knew me, and that he once stuck his fingers up my ass. Yavara was chatting up a couple human males who were hinging on her every word, one of them with his hand planted firmly on her backside.

“Brock!” I yelled over the crowd. Brock whipped his head around and pointed a finger at me.

“There he is! These fingers-” Brock drunkenly held up his hands, “-were in his ass. See, me and him were plowing into this girl, right, and old Zander over here was passing out. So, the girl -this girl right here, actually-,” Brock finally noticed that Yavara was being groped, and casually swatted the human, forcing him off his feet and crashing into a table. Brock continued his tale without a missed beat. “This girl tells me old Zander is having a fucking aneurysm! So, I’m conflicted here, because Zander is probably going to die soon, but I’m balls deep in this fine piece of ass. There’s no way I’m pulling out and running into the woods for some willow bark before I finish, so I do the only thing I can do, and try to shock him out of it. I take my fingers, and drill both my hands into Zander’s ass, and I tell ya, it was like the old fucker got hit by lightning. I mean he jolted up so hard he damn near split the poor girl in half!”

Brock slapped his knee before the roaring laughter of his audience, while Yavara gave me a pouty face as the humans who were groping her ran in terror from the orc.

“Why can’t I have any fun?” She said, her words slurring, “You were up there putting on a show for everyone, and I’m down here with no one to play with.”

“I’m not your dad, Yavara, but I do need to protect you. Once you gain your abilities to protect yourself, you can fuck your way through the whole city for all I care. Right now, we need to get you upstairs with Prestira, so come on.”

I hoisted Yavara up and supported her as we walked up the stairs, Prestira following behind. Brock stayed in the bar, a sizeable audience forming around him as he embellished a few more of his tales. Prestira closed the door behind us, the roaring sound of the bar muting with the pull of the latch. Yavara plopped onto a pillow laid on the floor, and Prestira sat cross-legged before her. The two women studied each other, though I daresay Prestira did it with a bit more tact. While Prestira gaged Yavara with a calculated gaze, Yavara swayed drunkenly on her pillow, her eyes running unabashedly up the exposed length of Prestira’s belly.

“You’re really pretty, Prestira.” Yavara slurred, ogling the inner portion of the witch’s breasts, “I really like the way you do sex; you should teach me sometime.”

Prestira smiled back at Yavara and gave her a glass. “Drink this, Yavara. As cute as you are when you’re drunk, we need you sober right now.”

“When Zander pressed you against the glass,” Yavara whispered, leaning close to Prestira’s face, her body tilting precariously, “I started to touch myself.”

Prestira tittered and guided the drink to Yavara’s lips. Yavara reluctantly drank the potion, her body straightening as drunkenness left her.

“You can remove her disguise, Zander. I need to look into her real eyes.” Prestira said to me.

I touched a finger to Yavara’s ear. Her rounded ear became pointed, and her green irises changed to orange. Prestira gazed into Yavara’s eyes, scanning them thoughtfully. Yavara stared back, her composure apprehensive.

“You have great potential, Yavara.” Prestira said softly, “I’ve never seen a being with as much power coursing through them as you. Zander has brought five of you to me in the past, all of them very powerful. None of them had what you have. I guess my question is, what do you want to do with it?”

Yavara shifted in her seat. “I want to sit on the Black Throne.”

Prestira glanced knowingly at me, then turned back to Yavara. “That’s certainly what Zander wants you to do.”

“It’s what I want as well.”

Prestira regarded her for a moment. “If you raise all the banners of the Great Forest, and you march for the vengeance of ancient contraventions, you will have no allies to call upon, Yavara. You would fight alone. You would fight against me.”

Yavara straightened and spoke with conviction. “It is true that I need an army to defend my claim, but I will claim the Great Forest and nothing more. I will trade with Ardeni Dreus while amassing a defensive force to the west to hold off the Highland onslaught until they tire of battle and sit down at the negotiating table. I will make them the aggressor, and me the sympathetic victim of elven imperialism.”

Prestira searched Yavara’s eyes, reading more than just the young elf’s expression. “I believe you do not seek conquest, but your birthright will not be given easily. The Highlands will be merciless, and your army will want to go on the offensive. You will have to convince a force of testosterone-driven monsters to act against their nature, and hold a line. I believe you can do it, but you will need my help first. So, let’s begin.”

Yavara sat upright, eager to learn. Prestira gently took Yavara’s hand into her own and traced the line on Yavara’s palm. Yavara looked at me with a confused expression, and I simply nodded my head toward Prestira. She refocused her attention on the witch, whose white irises were now rolled back into her head, the sclera glowing a slight yellow.

“You have five natural arcane abilities, Yavara.” Prestira’s voice was hypnotic, “Telekinesis, the ability to manipulate matter with your mind; inferno, the ability to produce flame from your palms; indoctrination, the ability to control minds; and healing, which is self-explanatory. There is one power that I don’t recognize… a transformative power? But not of yourself. Curious. The elves are looking for their lost princess in every corner of the world, and you need to stay hidden. I think the most useful ability to learn at this moment is indoctrination. What do you think?” Prestira’s eyes rolled forward, the glow receding from the edges.

Yavara nodded readily.

“Good,” Prestira smiled, producing a small cage, “I have here, three mice. I will indoctrinate one, afterwards I will explain how I did it. When I am done, you will attempt to do the same on another. Don’t be discouraged if you fail; it takes most people decades to learn such a craft, but you are born with it. We just need to unlock it.”

Prestira took a mouse from the cage and let it run freely around the room. The creature searched frantically for a hole to crawl into, scuttling around the moldings that edged the room. It found a crack in the wall, and darted into it before stopping dead in its tracks. The mouse abruptly stood on its hind legs and saluted Yavara, who let out a delighted giggle in response. The mouse marched to Yavara, bowed its head, and then died on the spot, blood pooling from its eyes and nose. Yavara gasped in horror.

“Why did you do that?!” She cried. I almost raised an eyebrow. This was the woman who’d gone out of her way to kill Brock’s men, and now fretted over the death of a rodent who could barely claim sentience?

“I was not born with the gift of indoctrination, so my intrusion into the mouse’s mind was not natural.” Prestira explained gently, “I can control small-minded beings like mice for a matter of seconds, larger beings like wolves for minutes, and a humanoid for maybe an hour, before they have an aneurysm and die. You, on the other hand, can control a creature for as long as your attention allows, and no harm will come to the beast.”

“It was innocent.” Yavara lamented, taking the little corpse from the floor and cradling it in her palms. Prestira gave me a side-eyed bewildered look, and I shrugged my shoulders. She turned her attention back to Yavara, clearing her throat to get her pupil’s attention.

“Now, what I do during indoctrination, is focus on the other creature’s mind. It seems like an abstract expression, so what you should do is look at the creature’s head, and think about its mind. You will feel a connection between the two of you. You need to travel down that connection and into its mind. Then you will be inside its brain, and you can do with it as you please. It is important that you clear your thoughts before attempting such a thing; a cluttered mind will distract you from your objective, and you will fail.”

Prestira withdrew another mouse from her cage and place it on the floor. Yavara stared at the creature’s head as it darted around the room. Her eyes locked on the back of the creature’s skull, her temple pulsing with concentration. The mouse stopped for a moment, looked at Yavara, then disappeared through the crack in the wall. Yavara let out a sigh of disappointment. Prestira pressed a reassuring hand to Yavara’s knee.

“Like I said, no one gets it the first time. Let’s try again. It’s important that you empty your mind; there should be nothing in your head but your connection to the mouse.”

Prestira withdrew another mouse from her cage and set it free. Yavara exhaled slowly and focused. The mouse didn’t even bother looking back, but ran straight for the crack in the wall, disappearing with his brethren. Yavara didn’t show her disappointment this time, but instead waited for another subject, orange eyes set in determination.

“Maybe we should downsize.” Prestira smiled, “Here, I have a box of tarantulas; creatures with very simple minds. This may be easier for you.”

I watched as Yavara failed again and again, her frustration mounting with each misstep. There was a moment when I thought she had hold of the creature, only for it to charge up her leg and sink its fangs into her thigh. Prestira remained calm and thoughtful the entire time, giving Yavara advice as the tarantulas ran rampant through the room. After an hour, Yavara finally broke down and cried, and Prestira wrapped a comforting arm around her.

“It’s fine, Yavara. I spent years trying to get a cockroach to dance; we can’t ask you to control spiders after a few hours. I want you to practice clearing your mind. I want you to think only of the things that give you peace, and to focus only on those things when you practice indoctrination. We should take a break. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Yavara pressed her face into Prestira’s robe. “I don’t know what gives me peace! I’ve sought its opposite all my life.”

The witch soothed Yavara with gentle strokes of her hand. “Peace is a place where you feel safe and loved. A place where you can be yourself without fear of ridicule or repercussion. That is where you need to bring your mind.”

Yavara sniffled for a moment, then turned her face to Prestira’s. I wasn’t sure if Prestira saw the change that washed over Yavara, but I did. The subtle languor in her posture, the little tilt of her chin, the curious look in her orange eyes. “I feel safe in here, Prestira.” Yavara said softly, “I feel like I can be myself with you.”

She locked eyes with Prestira, their faces inches away from each other. She held Prestira’s gaze as she leaned in, and touched their lips. Prestira shot me an alarmed expression as the dark-elf parted her lips, and gently slid her tongue into her mouth.

What the fuck, Zander. Prestira’s telepathic voice shot into my head.

Yavara is very… physically driven. I responded, more than a little amused by the turn of events, Alkandi had to take my body and merge with her in the physical world because Yavara was too mentally strong to be seduced in the astral plane. This might work.

I didn’t sign up for this. And don’t give me that bullshit, Zander; you just want to see me get fucked by a woman. Prestira’s telepathic voice was stern, but she was physically reciprocating Yavara’s kiss. Her eyes slowly closed as she gave into it, her mouth wrapping around the elf’s.

You don’t seem to mind. I mocked.

It’s that damn succubus D.N.A. she’s got. I’m very secure in my heterosexuality. Yavara’s hands drifted together along the opening of Prestira’s robe. She gently traced the witch’s exposed torso, her fingers brushing Prestira’s navel, tickling the length of her belly, then circling the bottoms of her breasts.

You never dabbled? I asked, becoming conscious of the pulling in my loins, I consider myself to be mostly heterosexual too, but-

You? Heterosexual? Brock made sure half of Ardeni knows you like it in the ass, Zander, but we both know that’s not the half of it, you slut. Prestira sneered as she pressed herself closer to Yavara. She watched me while Yavara’s wandering fingers gently parted her silken robe, then circled the tantalizing darkness of her areola’s. Prestira shuddered, bringing her chest closer to the elf.

Yes, you’re clearly straight as an arrow. I’ll join in if you need to reassure yourself of your heterosexuality.

Fuck off Zander, I can handle this. I’ll just get her off a little and help her relax. Maybe just slip her a few fingers. It’s sexual therapy; I’m simply performing a service, nothing more.

I’m sure.

Yavara and Prestira’s eyes were closed as their tongues intertwined. Yavara’s hands moved underneath Prestira’s robe and pushed it from the witch’s shoulders, exposing the graceful length of her back. Yavara’s eyes opened slightly when her fingers met Prestira’s nipple rings.

“Mmmm, why do you have these, Prestira? Do they feel good?” Yavara whispered into the sorcerous’ mouth. Prestira gasped as Yavara gently pulled on the rings, her nipples stretching slightly. Yavara’s eyes sparkled at the reaction.

“Yes, Yavara.” Prestira whispered, “They feel sooo gooooooood.” Prestira’s voice lulled into a moan when Yavara took one nipple into her mouth. She wriggled her tongue through the ring, then pulled her head backward with a devious smile. Prestira let out a groan, her red lips parted in mingling confusion and arousal as she gazed at the dark-elf. Yavara closed her mouth around the nipple, and began to suck, the conical breast displaying its supple texture about the purse of her drawing lips. Prestira placed her palms on the floor behind her and arched her back to present her chest, soft pants and gasps of pleasure slipping from her lips. Yavara leaned into Prestira, the breast in her mouth reforming to its original shape, then flattening until it indented succulently about Yavara’s pressing muzzle. Prestira place a loving hand on the back of the elf’s head as she nursed her, softly stroking Yavara’s hair.

“Yes…” She murmured, “Yes, Yavara. Just like that. You’re safe with me. You can be yourself with me.”

Yavara’s fingers traced Prestira’s stomach before stopping above the witch’s closed legs.

“No, don’t…” Prestira protested halfheartedly even as she shimmied her way out of her robes, exposing the upper length of her thighs.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” Yavara giggled before resuming her nursing. She pushed her hand between Prestira’s thighs, which offered only ceremonial resistance. Her pinky and index finger forked the witch’s pink petals, and her ring and index fingers plunged into the leaking ovule. Prestira covered her mouth to suppress a whimper when Yavara’s thumb found her clit, pressing gently and rotating. Lewd sucks and slurps permeated from the seal of Yavara’s lips, her eyes closed in contentment as her mouth went gaunt with her perverse breastfeeding. Prestira finally relented, uncovering her mouth to yield her moans to the ceiling, her chin tilting upward in abject hedonism.

I thought you were going to be the one doing the fingering. I mocked.

Why don’t you come over and I’ll give you a few fingers, you smug bastard.

Is that an offer?

Prestira unlidded inviting, dangerous eyes. Why don’t you find out?

I disrobed with as much grace as I could, exposing my arousal to the two women. Yavara peaked from the corner of her eye, a smile creeping across her lips as she gently teethed Prestira’s nipple. I walked over to Prestira, whose eyes drifted from the top of the elf’s head to my hard cock. She locked gazes with me, extended her elegant fingers, and coiled a gentle fist about my shaft.

If you want it, you’re going to have to take it, Zander.

I hate these games you play with me. I have no idea if you’re going to blow me or bite me.

“I guess you’ll just have to roll the dice.” Prestira said aloud, drawing an inquisitive look from Yavara before she resumed her meal.

I placed a hand atop Prestira’s head and guided it forward. Prestira accepted me into her mouth, but not before teasing me with a soft bite. I grabbed her head and forced it forward until she took me all the way in, eliciting a gag from my erstwhile paramour. Her throat hugged my shaft, her esophagus pulsing around me, swallowing to draw me deeper. She gazed up at me as she withdrew my member, her lips wrapped around me, her tongue snaking the underside before toying with the head. Satisfied with the knowledge that I was still willing to play her violent game, Prestira decided not to test me again, and instead displayed her generosity. She took me in over and over, the graceful length of her pale neck bulging with my girth, her smoky eyes closed to savor the depths of my lust, and the taste of it. She rotated her lips with her suction, her cheeks going gaunt with the pull of her mouth, her curled tongue sliding around me. I groaned.

Yavara released Prestira’s nipple and began to lick her way downward. Prestira’s thighs were crossed around Yavara’s wrist, not opening herself for Yavara’s mouth. Yavara withdrew her molesting hand, strings of lust webbing her fingers. She sucked them one at a time, each pass of her lips an exaggeration of lechery.

“You taste so good, Prestira.” Yavara whispered huskily, her head resting on Prestira’s thighs, her pupils dilated, “Please let me have more.”

Yavara set herself to coercing Prestira with a single finger, petting the delicate ribbon that closed the witch’s slit, the petals parting tenderly. Prestira moaned around my cock, her eyes drooping to pleading teardrops, her expression conflicted.

Damn, she’s good. Prestira muttered in my mind.

I warned you.

It’s scary how good she is. Prestira hummed as she rotated her lips around my base, I swear I didn’t like women before, but… maybe I did? Was there a mental block on my bisexuality, or is pussy an acquired taste?

One a long enough timeline, everyone’s bisexual. Some people just take longer to realize it.

Prestira’s thighs began to rub together about Yavara’s teasing hand. Should I let her in?

There’s no shame in it.

OK, Prestira mentally prepared herself, no turning back now.

She tentatively opened her legs. Yavara grinned, and pushed Prestira’s legs even further apart, exposing and opening everything between them. She nestled her muzzle into Prestira’s vulnerable splay, and ran tongue along Prestira’s slit in one motion. Prestira rolled her eyes, their lenses filming with pleasure. I admired the blissful look that glowed from her face, the pristine portrait interrupted vulgarly by the length of meat bulging from her red lips. Yavara’s tongue found Prestira’s clit, and Prestira wrapped her legs about Yavara’s head in a welcoming embrace, pushing the little elf’s nose deep into her glistening folds. As Yavara tested the depths of Prestira, Prestira decided to do some exploring of her own. Her hands traversed the bridge of my legs, finding the apex after a tortuous path. She lingered on my balls for a while, gently massaging them between her fingers before sliding her hand backward. Her eyes teased me while her fingers spread me open. I grabbed the back of her head and pushed myself all the way in as she did the same with me. A moan escaped my lips when she found my prostate. She milked the organ with her fingertip, pressing it into a convulsing wreck that sent tremors down my legs. My cock throbbed in warning, and I had to pull out at the last second before the worst happened.

Prestira laughed in satisfaction. “You anal slut, Zander.”

Yavara perked up at the sound of her favorite activity. “What about you Prestira?” Yavara asked, tracing a finger down Prestira’s taint, “Do you partake?”

“No Honey,” Prestira said, pushing Yavara’s head down, “Now finish your dinner; there are starving children in Terondia, and wasteful brats get spanked.”

“Are you going to punish me, Mommy?” Yavara grinned as her tongue playfully flicked Prestira’s clit, “Have I been a bad girl?”

“A very bad girl.” Prestira said, crinkling her nose at Yavara before looking at me, “I think your daddy needs to teach his little girl some discipline.”

Incest fetish? Really? I asked incredulously.

We’ve done so much worse than this.

Not with her, Prestira.

She’s not Alkandi, Zander. You’ve let that ghost ruin your real life; don’t let her ruin your sex life. Now get your ass over there and punish your daughter, Daddy, or I’m getting Uncle Brock up here, and you can act out your cuckold fetish in the corner.

Don’t write checks your ass can’t check. I’ve seen what Uncle Brock’s packing, and he wouldn’t be satisfied with just his niece. You’d be in a wheelchair.

Yavara’s hips were swaying back and forth as she looked up at me from her consumption. “Daddyyyyy, Mommy says you have to discipline me for being such a naughty girl. Are you going to come over here and punish me, or are you just going to send me to my room?” Yavara said in a baby voice, her lips pouting, her eyes begging me to fill her. Her breasts had freed themselves from her bodice, and were now pillowed against Prestira’s thighs. Her dress barely clung to her thick ass, the outline of her cheeks showing underneath it. I recalled my fantasy of hiking that dress up and taking the elf, and my cock curved upward.

That’s the spirit. Prestira pulled her finger from my ass and slapped me on the cheek. Go get her tiger.

I walked behind Yavara, her tittering voice taunting me excitedly as she wiggled her hips. She looked back at me with a smile. “Are you going to spank me, Daddy?”

“Oh, you’ve been much too naughty for just a spanking, Sweetheart,” I said, pulling her dress up, “I’m going to have to do a lot more than that to get the message across.”

“Oh no, Daddy, I won’t do it again, I pwah-miss. I’m sooooo sah-wie.” Yavara’s submissive baby voice drove me over the edge. I brought a hand down on her cheek, leaving a bright-red print on her bronze ass. She squealed in delight when I slapped her other cheek, her pussy frothing between her quivering thighs. I slid myself between her petals, wetting my rod with the lust I compelled from her, each strike causing her to gush and flutter about me. When her thighs were grinding, and her back was arching with desperate want, I brought both hands down on her cheeks, and spread them. God, she was wet. I opened her delicate curtains with my thumbs, displaying the sweet ruby depths of her. My mouth watered at the sight.

“Daddy’s feeling nice today, Honey, so you get to pick how I punish you.” I said, “Where does my baby girl want her daddy to discipline her?”

Yavara looked over one hunched shoulder, her teeth pressing into her lower lip, her eyes begging. She grinded along my pole, testing my girth against her lewd options, shuddering when my wetted tip slid across her puckered anus. “I want Daddy to put it in my ass.” She whispered, eyes alight, “I’ve been a very bad girl; Daddy needs to hurt me, or I’ll never learn.”

I placed my tip against Yavara’s pink sphincter and slowly pushed in. Her shoulders pinched as she dilated around me, her rim widening, and widening, and widening, and sucking me in, pulling me into her vile tender depths, her smooth-bore shithole gripping me like I’d never felt before. I gasped, my crotch surrounded by the pillowing heat of her perfect ass, the gleaming succulent domes squishing around me. Yavara whined like a sated junkie, her rim winking around my base, twisting like a disgusting mouth. It was all I could do not to lose myself in her heinous brand of sex, that lust which desired naught but the depraved and perverse, that passion which chose the dirty pain of an anal fuck over the natural act of sex. Brock was right; this was the greatest piece of ass I’d ever had.

“It’s what I deserve, Daddy.” Yavara gasped, her lower back darkening in the lithe shadows of muscle, “Fuck your whore-daughter’s nasty little asshole.”

I pulled out of Yavara until only my head was inside her, a small length of her rim stretching outward with it. I spanked her as I charged back in, her anal walls clinging to my advance, making me feel every surface of her disgusting channel. Yavara moaned and cried, her exaltations muffled by ex-wife’s cunt, whose owner watched me with megalomaniacal arousal, entangling her fingers into Yavara’s hair.

“That’s it, baby-girl, that’s it.” Prestira purred, hands grasping Yavara’s head, “Take Daddy’s dick into your shithole and lick mommy’s cunt. Such a bad girl; we may need to punish you every night.”

Yavara moaned her approval, her back arching in response to my movements, pressing herself closer to me. I reached beneath her and sunk four fingers into her oozing slit, her delicate petals pushing inward with my fingers. I felt my cock pumping along her fleshy floor, and pressed my fingers against the bulge. Yavara screamed mutedly, her thighs quivering. I found her natural rhythm, and I beat her to it; slapping and driving in time, turning the two globes of my drum into a rosy canvas of jiggling fat. Yavara’s dress fell to her ribs with the force of my blows, pooling around the exposed bottoms of her breasts. Each thrust sent little shocks up her spine, the muscles in her back flexing in response, her pussy clenching about my fingers in turn. When I felt her insides boiling with spasms, I withdrew my hand, denying her the release. She whined desperately, her motions becoming ardent, the whore within her taking control. I examined the nectar webbing my fingers, and glanced at Prestira.

“Honey, our daughter’s been hiding sweets from us.”

Prestira leaned forward and suck Yavara from my fingers, her eyes staring into my own as she took each finger into her mouth. “Such a bad girl, Yavara, keeping things like that from your parents. We’re going to have to take drastic measures for that.” Prestira taun