Posts Tagged ‘priest’

“How long has it been since your last confession?” Father Tony asks from the other side of the confession booth.

“A whole year, I’m afraid to say,” Kim replies, folding her hands across her lap. “I guess I have a lot to cover. Maybe I should start with my brother…”

Jeremy is a good Catholic boy, but our interactions are somewhat improper. He only let’s go as far as playing with his cock. Just the other day I had my breasts fully exposed to him. He almost dove at my chest, taking first one nipple, then the other between his lips, sucking and nibbling at them until they were hard and almost a half inch long. He softly, but urgently ran his tongue around each areola until his quest found my nipple, then sucked it hard as I groaned my delight.

His finger had exited my clit until it was as hard as his cock. Keeping pressure on my clit as his finger moved down my slit, Jeremy lubricated my outer lips with the copious amounts of juice my pussy had excreted. Sliding up and down my slit, he made sure that every part of my pussy was as wet as the tip of his cock that leaked his precum.

I swirled my fingers around his cockhead, spreading his cock juices over his entire head and throbbing cock. As my hand slid down his cock, he prepared to assault my pussy and thrust the full length of his finger up inside me as my hand reached the base of his cock. My reaction was a combination of a sharp gasp and a thrust of my hips against his hand, begging for more.

I leaned my head into him, whispering, ‘Oh god, Jeremy! You feel so good inside me like that!’

Jeremy curled his finger inside my pussy and found my G-Spot, lightly teasing it with the tip of his finger. As the rhythm increased, so did mine. I was going to jack him off.

My breathing got faster, shallower and more ragged. His own balls were tightening as they pushed a full delivery of his sticky cum to the base of his cock, preparing it for launch. By the feel of my pussy wall fluttering and grasping at his finger, I knew I was close too. As his cock moved up his shaft, Jeremy bit down on my nipple, pushing me over the edge as my climax caused every muscle in my body to tense and my entire body to shake and tremble. I began to moan, letting it grow into a scream of ecstasy as I explored through the peak of my pleasure.

That is all it took to take Jeremy to the point of no return and the first rope of his hot, sticky cum erupted from his cock and launched itself at his chest. I felt the throb of his orgasm and milked every drop of his creamy cum out of his hard cock.

“It is preferable to anything worse, my child,” Father Tony says when she finishes the story. “If temptations become too much to bear, a certain level of petting can be done as a release, accompanied by confession.”

“I’m glad for that, father,” she says with a smile.

“God forgives you. You shouldn’t be ashamed of these impulses if you don’t let them dominate your actions.”

“Well, there’s more, father,” she says hesitantly.

I taken further than my brother would when my uncle visited a almost a year ago. He was incredibly hot. His body was like a Greek god and his voice was simply sexy. He showed me a new way to have an orgasm.

One day, he stopped by my place, breaking away from my parent’s house long enough to. I was a bit surprised to him and even more surprised when the first thing he did was unfasten the button of my jeans, tugging the zipper its full length in the process. I gave in instantly and pulled back just far enough to grant him access to my waist and he slipped them down my legs until my jeans were wrapped around my ankles. As I stepped out of them, he ran his hands up and down my ass.

With my pussy only inches away from his face, he pulled me back to his hungry mouth and planted his lips firmly over my pussy, running his tongue down my slit until he found my clit. I moaned in response to his search.

‘God, yes! Lick me Uncle Billy!’ I growled lustfully. As he pulled my even closer with his growing need to taste me, I almost fell on top of him. The more Uncle Billy explored my pussy, the further apart I spread my legs, making my pussy available to him. I recognized that my need was as great as his.

Without another word, Uncle Billy acknowledged my want. In no time flat, we are completely naked and in my living room. I fell onto the couch, landing on my back with my legs open as an invitation to my Uncle Billy to take me any way he wanted. He fell between my thighs, landing on my stomach with his mouth once again clamped over my wet pussy. His tongue searched for my clit. He licked and sucked it until it stood proud and firm. Taking it into his mouth, he clamped his lips around my clit while reaching up with his hand to squeeze and tease my breast and nipple and using his other hand to begin fingering my pussy.

His finger slid right into my wet pussy with almost no resistance and it was joined by another finger. I responded by lifting my legs up and over his shoulders, effectively pinning him to my hungey crotch. I raised my hips in an effort to pull his tongue deeper into my pussy. The second he licked my entrance, I convulsed upward until our only contact with the couch was my shoulder blades and his knees.

Soon my breathing became faster and shallower and pussy grasped at his fingers as my first orgasm began to radiate all through my body. He curled his fingers to tickle the ridges of my pussy, searching for my G-Spot. Seconds later, I tense my whole body and began to tremble as the orgasm washed over me. I screamed as I went over the top and a warm gush of my juices flowed into his palm which he immediately lapped up with his tongue.

“Afterward, I knew I wanted more,” she says. “I didn’t feel shame until he was gone.”

“I-I see,” Father Tony says tugging at his collar. “Have you, um, learned to manage these urges?”

“No father. It only got worse and I grew hungrier for it. I found my father was interested in me and willing to take my virginity.”

I had just gotten out of the shower when I felt my father press himself tight to my body and taking the opportunity to lightly run his tongue around the edge of my ear. I softly moaned my delight and then pushed my ass hard against his groin.

The thought of his cock in me set my juices flowing. With a slow rhythm, I began rocking against his cock, feeling it harden just a little more with each stroke of my slit along its length. Within moments it was coated with my juices and hard as a rock. I could feel it searching for my entrance and I lifted my leg to grant him access.

Daddy probed my crotch until his cockhead slipped inside my hot, wet pussy and then slowly began to bury his cock deeper and deeper. I swung my legs up and away from his, allowing him to penetrate me to the full depth of my pussy and then groaned in delight of my pussy being speared fully.

As he continued to slowly pump himself in and out, Daddy squeezed and fondled my breasts, pulling and twisting my nipples whenever I least expected it. I met his rhythm with a rocking of my hips, fucking him back as hard as he was driving himself in and out of me. With each successive slap of his balls against my firm ass, I got closer and closer to orgasm. I could feel my pussy flutter and grasp his cock. He moved a hand from my breast to caress my clit, tickling and teasing it until its entire mass exposed itself. Flicking his finger back and forth across my clit, I gasped with pleasure.

Soon he was pumping himself into me faster and faster, resulting in his balls lifting as they began to fill the base of his cock to fill m pussy. His breathing became ragged as the pressure built. Within seconds, we were both groaning and gasping louder and louder and I began to tremble and shake as my climax took over.

‘Fuck me harder!’ I yelled.

Daddy pumped me harder and a second later he shot a massive stream of hot cum deep inside me, slashing against my cervix, hard enough to push me over the top and into a second climax. I gasped desperately and then screamed loudly as my orgasm shot through me.

‘Fill me with your cum!’ I screamed at my father.

Daddy’s cum sprayed me again and again, blasting several hard ropes into me. My pussy walls gripped and grabbed his cock, milking the cum out of his balls. He drove his cock as far up my pussy as possible and held it there until every drop of cum had been expelled into me.

“I’ve been giving it to him steady for the better half of a year now.”

“Gracious child,” Father Tony gasps.

“I know father, but I can’t help but savor the thrill. All I can do is ask for forgiveness now.”

“Well, uh, you needn’t be so graphic with your confessions child.”

“I’m sorry father, I will try to be less detailed,” she says with a smile. “I’ve been having sex with the father whose son I babysit on the weekends.”

“I see.”

“When Father Dinarus come to visit—”

“My god child!” Father Tony gasps.

“I did pleasure him, father while I was seeking counsel.”

“Oh, sweet heavens!”

“Then there were the boys from summer camp. Their strange fetishes started to rub off on me. One of them even would pee on me to get his fulfillment. I wouldn’t feel so bad now if I didn’t enjoy it as much as I did, father.”

“That’s enough, child. I’m having trouble hearing all of this.”

“But I’m nowhere near finished, father,” Kim protests.

Suddenly the door to her side of the confession booth opens with Father Tony standing in the doorway, his cock hard as a rock and sticking straight into the air. “Forgive me,” he says. “If I could…”

“Father! Oh, my god.”

Kim sheds her clothes and bent over the seat, groaning lustfully. Father Tony slides a finger down her slit and over her clit, lightly rubbing it until it hardens to his touch. Her pussy is being flooded with her pussy juices, which he dips and smears onto her pussy lips. His finger alternates between her entrance and clit, diving inside her a little deeper every time. Kim shifts her legs apart to grant his finger full access.

“I want your hard cock up my ass,” she tells him with a lusty growl.

Father Tony slides his hand up to the base of her ass crack and then runs a finger up her until he finds her asshole. Coating his finger heavily with her pussy juice as he slips from one hole to the other, he begins to press against her until, eventually, her muscles relax enough to accept him to the first knuckle.

Kim moans heavily as she anticipates the pending violation of her ass. She impales herself further onto his finger, pushing herself down on it as he continues to stretch her. When he is as deep as he can be, the pressure of his palm on her ass is pure heaven to her.

“Fuck father, that’s feels good!”

Father Tony starts finger fucking her as his other hand pumps her pussy, making her hornier and hornier. Father Tony stops and grabs his shaft and begins rubbing it up and down her slit, smearing her pussy juices over his shaft. Then he eases his cockhead against her asshole, Pressing just enough to open her asshole, the head pops inside her ass and her hole closes over him, trapping him so he can neither go forward nor backward.

“Fill me with that big fucking cock,” Kim grunts.

Her moans get louder and louder as his invading cock begins to slide further up her ass. He strokes her pussy, paying attention to the movements on her clit. A few minutes later, he is balls deep in her ass and he feels her juices begin to flow faster from her pussy. Father Tony begins to pump his cock in and out of her ass while massaging the inner walls of her pussy and soon he can feel her pussy walls start to flutter and quiver. As her asshole loosens up more and more, he pumps himself into her faster, until the rhythm of his finger and his cock are almost identical. His finger dances in her pussy and tickles and teases the underside of his cock, exciting his balls.

Kim can feel a sensation start in her pussy, spreading to her stomach and then to her ass. She was going to cum as Father Tony filled her ass up. Kim’s ass grabs his cock as her pussy walls grasp and clutch his finger. He feels her juices spray him as she splashes his legs, drenching them both. Father Tony climaxes at that moment as cum explodes from his cock to coat her insides. Spurt after spurt gushes out of him. He has shoved himself as far up her ass as he could and holds his cock deep inside her, but the power of his cum is making his legs quiver and shake. He holds himself to her to keep from falling.

Slowly, they come back from the sensual explosion of their joining. She can feel Father Tony’s semi-erect cock still in her. Squeezing her ass cheeks around it, she captures it there, not wanting him to leave her. His cum seeps out of her to his balls and dribbles onto the floor. She smiles and says, “I’ll not have to wait a whole year for my next confession.”

I’m a pervert, and an unapologetic one at that. I’m so completely confident and comfortable with my sexuality that I refuse to compartmentalize it, lie about it, or be ashamed of it. I’m free from society’s pressure to conform and that is a joy most people will never experience. To most people in a sexually-repressed society, being unashamed of your sexuality translates to being a perv and trying to convince people that you never have any sexual thoughts whatsoever is considered normal. That’s insane. Anyone who knows me knows that I will swear on a stack of bibles in a court of law and admit to anything and everything I’ve ever done sexually, regardless of how uncomfortable it might make some pseudo-conservatives and religious zealots, because I’ve never done anything immoral or illegal and I’m not ashamed of people knowing that I color outside the lines. I’m of the strong belief that two consenting adults should test the waters to see what they enjoy and explore alternative options. I personally enjoy exploring where my mind can go sexually and you know what they say; the mind is the biggest sexual organ. A pervert is defined as someone who leads another astray morally. I like to think that I have the unique ability to seduce people into doing things they secretly crave but publicly denounce. I get off on seeing people become feral, primal, sexual beasts, shedding their façade of straight-laced formality and conformity only to embrace and revel in their true nature. I belong to the school of thought that it’s the responsibility of forward thinking individuals like myself to challenge the notion that sex is only valid if it’s missionary position on a Friday night with the lights out between two married, white, mildly unattractive and boring, financially stable heterosexuals.

It’s rare to find a woman, at least as upstanding and educated as I am, and a Black woman on top of that, who readily admits that she is a aroused by sexual variation and coloring outside the lines. I didn’t say it was rare to find a woman of my social and economic standing who is a pervert, I meet tons of them. We live in such a sexually repressed society, finding women who are sophisticated and conservative on the outside and horny and willing to push their limits when they let their hair down is a piece of cake. All one has to do is know what to look for; like attracts like as they say. It is rare, however, to meet women who are as proud to be as kinky as I am. It’s easier to find men who are kinksters, at least in name if not in practice. There are tons of men who claim to be comfortable with their sexuality as I am but all they do is jerk off in front of a computer screen or they lie about their true motives and desires. You can’t claim to be a comfortable with your sexuality if you your only connection to other people is though a broadband one or if you are ashamed of your actions. You can’t claim to be comfortable with your sexuality if you need to lie, manipulate, cheat, and do things that are unsafe and unhealthy in the pursuit of illicit sex. I am the real deal. Usually, women are so secretive about their sexuality that no one knows about their dark side; they even keep it hidden from their lovers. They hide the fact that they look at extreme porn on the internet and crave things that they pretend to their co-workers, family, and friends offends them. Me on the other hand, I don’t care who knows that I am aroused by almost every expression of sexuality in some form or fashion. Pick a fetish, inclination, or preference and I’ve probably masturbated to it.

I was in the mood for some fun so I decided to take the afternoon off from work to enjoy the beautiful summer afternoon. I went to the park to see if I could find some average-looking married guy sucking off some stranger in the bushes. That always gets my pussy wet. I love watching the white guys with receding hairlines who wear sweater vests and pocket protectors enthusiastically schlobbing on the knob of some Black or Latino guy with a huge cock and sucking him like a porn star at 2 in the afternoon in the park. Let him bend over and take that big, brown cock up his ass and I’m turned on and cumming and fucking myself like there’s no tomorrow. Any guy that horny who is willing to do something that outrageous and contrary to social norms in broad daylight is a risk taker; he is addicted to getting off and that turns me on. I can get off on just the mental image of this middle management white guy going home and having to take out the trash and pay the bills knowing that he has the cum of a hot black man dripping out of his boipussy while his unsuspecting wife is making meatloaf and green beans for dinner. That is so fucking HOT!

This particular day, I was in the mood for more than just watching; I wanted to play and play hard. Every step I took, my wet and throbbing pussy reminded me that I needed relief. When my perverted mind is turned on, I see sex in everything. I was searching the eyes of everyone I saw, looking for that look of arousal and secrecy that only other perverts can recognize. I saw it in the most average looking woman who was coming out of a church. It was a weekday and it was the middle of the afternoon but I could see she was wearing a top that was just a little bit too sexy for church and she was visibly aroused. I could see her hardened nipples through her shirt and she looked breathless. Sitting on a bench across from the park, she had that look of guilt on her face that I could tell she had been doing something naughty and she was trying to collect herself before she had to go home and face her hubby. She had on a pair of polyester slacks, flats, and a blouse that looked like it was something she got from the junior’s department straight from Wal-mart and she looked like she was on her way to pick up the kids from soccer practice. I casually strolled up to her and sat down next to her and blatantly stared at her. It made her uncomfortable and she started fidgeting around, eventually grabbing her purse like I was going to steal it. One of my shoes literally cost more than 10 times her outfit so I had to laugh at her white paranoia.

“Gorgeous day, isn’t it,” I casually inquired.

She nodded, mumbled her agreement, and stared at the ground, trying to avoid eye contact. She looked like she was trying to catch her breath. I leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “So, what was it in that church that got you so hot and bothered? What got your pussy so wet?” There was no mistaking the look of terror in her eyes. She got up and quickly walked away, looking back over her shoulder the entire time until she was out of sight. I just smiled and waved. I decided to go investigate myself and I entered the consecrated building. The place was deserted with the exception of a wrinkled, elderly Latina woman lighting candles at the altar and I highly doubted that she was who had that woman so flushed and aroused. I sat down and observed for a few minutes. I was just about ready to go, bored out of my mind, when at about a few minutes to 4:00, a priest came out of a side rectory door and went straight to the confessional and turned on an indicator light. Giving credit where credit is due, the priest was reasonably attractive. He wasn’t masturbation material but his face was chiseled and distinguished and his brown eyes danced with brilliance with a sly smile. He was maybe in his early 40s and I guessed that under his black shirt and pants, his body was toned. Overall, he was intriguing enough to get my “creative” juices flowing. I saw the elderly Latina woman make her way to the back of the church and at exactly 4 pm, she entered the small booth. She was only in there about 5 minutes and when she exited she certainly didn’t look particularly flustered or aroused.

I hatched the most delicious plan right then and there. I entered the confessional and sat down. The partition opened and I said, “Bless me father for I have sinned, I’ve never confessed before because I’m not Catholic. Shit, I’m not even Christian for that matter.”

“How then can I help you my child? The confessional is a sacred space for Catholics to confess their sins and seek absolution. Perhaps, if you are in need of counsel, I can make arrangements to meet with you outside the confessional.”

“Oh, no, please father, I need someone to talk to and you are the only one. Anything I say here you have to keep a secret, right? Cross your heart and hope to die, right? Well, I need to confess and get a lot of things off my chest. It would make me feel so much better to do it here, where you can’t see me. I’d be so embarrassed that I don’t think I could tell you these things face to face, Father. Please.”

I was lying. I didn’t give a half a fat fuck if he saw my face or not. I couldn’t give a hot damn if someone looked me dead in the eye while I spilled my guts about my fetishes and fantasies. I just thought it was a turn-on to be in a confessional with a man who took an oath of abstinence and telling him incredibly nasty things.

He conceded and let me go on with my fake confession. “Father, I’ve been a very naughty girl.” I paused, giving him time to gather his senses. “Father, I . . . hardly know where to begin. Well, let me ask you this. Is anal sex a sin?”

The priest gasped, audibly shocked. Clearing his throat, he said, “Are you . . . are you married my child? Well . . . uhmmmm. . . . whatever happens in the marriage bed is considered sacred in the eyes of the lord but . . .”

“Oh, I’m not married but my boyfriend is. Cool, he always fucks me in the ass in his marital bed when his wife is out of town. Okay, on to my next confession . . .”

“Wait, no, no. That’s not what I meant. I was trying to say . . .”

I could barely contain my laughter. “Relax, pops, I was just kidding you. I know that adultery is a sin. My boyfriend isn’t married. In fact, he isn’t even a boy. He, is a she. My girlfriend is married though. Do I get extra forgiveness points or whatever you call it because I’ve known her longer than she has known her husband? She and I used to fool around in college and we just can’t seem to stop . . . fooling around . . . if you know what I mean.” “Oh, gosh darnit all to heck,” I sarcastically added and then changed my tone to that of the most intense sexy whisper, “You see, Father, I love eating pussy. I can’t get enough. I love sticking my tongue between those meaty folds of her wet cunt and tasting all her sweet juices and swirling her hardened clit between my lips to make her flood my mouth with her hot cum. Awww poop, I guess that is a sin in your book too. Man, I’m not doing too well here. I love getting dicked really hard up the ass with a strapon by my married lesbian lover and having her eat my pussy too. I’m guessing it’s a good thing I’m not Catholic. I’d never leave this little room with all the things I do.”

By this time, the Padre knew exactly what I was trying to do and it looked like he was willing to play along. “These are some very serious sins, my child, I think you should start at the beginning and tell me everything, don’t leave any detail out no matter how small, so that I can know how to counsel you and give you guidance.” At that point, I heard the very faint sounds of a zipper being lowered and the tell-tale signs of labored breathing.

I was in my zone. I knew I had him just where I wanted him and it was turning me on like crazy. I was tempting this devout holy man with my particular brand of perversion and he was falling for it hook, line, and sinker. I have long had my suspicions that anyone who makes a conscious choice to deny their sexuality is ripe for perverse pickings so to speak. Sex is natural, human beings are supposed to have sex. Anyone who denies their sexuality, suppresses it, is setting themselves up for mental illness and sexual addiction. Duh! All these priests molesting children is clearly because humans are not meant to be asexual and they are driven to these detrimental and deviant behaviors because they have shut off that part of themselves which is natural. And now that priests can have access to porn every day all day on the internet, every sort of degrading, misogynist, vulgar porn, they are sure to be even more susceptible to being led astray and have more opportunities for sexual depravity than most people would care to acknowledge or accept.

I moved closer to the partition. I whispered so the priest would be forced to lean in closer. “I’m not sure where to begin, Father. I guess it all started when I got my heart broken by a guy who was a sociopath. Up until that point in my life I had been pretty comfortable being average and regular, hiding and denying my sexuality like everyone else. Then, I dated evil incarnate, a demon; I fell in love with someone without a soul. He was beyond a pathological liar. Every single solitary word out of his mouth was a lie. He lied when he would swear to me he was telling the truth. He looked me in the eye and lied to me, used me, he cheated on me. He told me he loved me, told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, that I was the woman of his dreams, for no other reason than he wanted to fuck me. He got a perverse thrill out of making me believe that he was my ideal lover, that he believed in me and was supportive of me when he knew I was just a placeholder for the next woman he could romance who would feed his distorted ego. When I found out the truth, it broke my heart in ways I can’t even explain. I was emotionally shattered.”

I continued. “So, in order to heal from that pain, I had to start really loving myself. Loving myself meant I had to embrace every part of myself. Loving myself meant that I could step back from the situation and see how pathetic and sad my ex was because he felt so driven by his sexuality and so ashamed of it that he had to hurt, use, manipulate, degrade, humiliate, and deceive people for his sexual satisfaction and that that had nothing to do with me, my value as a lover, or my ability to make sound choices in a partner. It was then that I decided that I was not going lie about my sexuality ever again. Never again would I be ashamed of anything I fantasized about, desired, or got aroused by. I was not going to be victim of the same beliefs that made him into a narcissist and sociopath; I was not going to be a slave to a society that created monsters like him because they felt like they had to deny their sexuality. When I got to that point in my life, Father, I released all the fear, shame, and guilt that I had been socialized to have my entire life and I started to enjoy my sexuality in a way that I had never even realized I could before.”

“I see, my child.” The father was listening intently. I could see his outline through the partition and he was riveted to my every word. It was as if I was counseling him in a way. I think I might have been telling his story. I knew he had to have some form of sexual release and I just imagined that he struggled with his own sexual demons and maybe what unhealthy, dysfunctional things it might have driven him to do.

“Do you really see, Father? I mean, you’ve never even had the opportunity to slide your dick in a wet, hot, tight pussy before. How could you possibly understand? You’ve never had soft, full, sensual lips sliding up and down the shaft of your cock, coaxing you to the verge of orgasm. You’ve never had a thick, hard dick up your ass, hitting your prostate, making your cock leak precum. Not once have you experienced what it feels like to shoot your cum deep inside someone and know that you are sharing yourself with them in a way that God intended people to connect and share.”

He was moaning softly and I could clearly hear the tell-tale signs of him jerking off. I decided to join the party. I stood up and slid my soaking wet panties down my brown, tone legs. I held them up to the partition and he inhaled deeply my feminine scent. “No, I’ve never experienced any of those worldly desires personally, but you cannot say that the God wants people to have sex outside of the holy covenant of marriage. The bible says . . .”

“Fuck that,” I interrupted, “How the holy hell can you say that God doesn’t want us to experience pleasure, ecstasy, and bliss when she created our bodies to feel every bit of that?”

“I’m afraid you are terribly misguided, my child,” he reprimanded me, practically choking on his words. “We have Catechism classes here on Thursday and Friday evenings if you’d like to come and learn about the true word of God.” It was clear he was getting upset by my assertions. I’d seen it before. People who are intent on pretending to be asexual have this form of cognitive dissonance, their brains start to shut down, their wires get crossed and they freak out when they are confronted with facts that contradict their beliefs. That, ladies and gentlemen, is precisely the point when I can entice people to come to the light, the enlightenment of sexual freedom and expression.

“So, you’re telling me, Father, that when I touch my clit, like this, I’m not supposed to experience pleasure? You’re telling me that I’m not supposed to enjoy the sensations of having my hard nipples softly caressed, sucked, and licked unless I have a piece of paper from the courthouse that says I’m married? Seriously? You believe that?” I started masturbating, at first with just one finger on my clit and then quickly graduated to using both hands, one to furiously rub my pussy and one to finger fuck my horny hole. I was moaning loud enough for him to hear but I didn’t want to attract too much attention and I had no clue who could hear me outside the confessional. I didn’t want some Bishop or Monsignor or even some other parish priest busting in and interrupting what was quickly becoming one of the kinkiest, most erotic experiences of my life.

I stood up and turned my back to the partition. I pulled up my skirt and revealed my ass. Bending over, I pulled my ass cheeks apart and I backed up. This time, the priest didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was deeply inhaling the musky scent from my unwashed pussy and asshole. This smell wasn’t soap and perfume, it was the heady aroma of my unique essence, my pheromones. “Does that turn you on, Father? Are you aroused? Is your cock hard? Do you want to fuck me?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. He was pounding his dick unashamedly at this point. He was being even more cautious than I was about making noises so I had to listen carefully for any sounds that let me know he was enjoying every second of this lecherous experience. I wondered if he had ever seen a Black woman’s pussy before. African Americans are Baptists and Methodists for the most part, we aren’t Catholics in any sort of great numbers. Then, it dawned on me that perhaps there were millions of lonely, frustrated, sexually repressed white housewives using confessionals all over the country as their illicit source of sexual satisfaction. I thought maybe that was a secret hidden in plain sight; that priests everywhere were jerking off to confessions from people who were turned on by getting their clergyman all hot and bothered.

If that damn booth hadn’t been so damn small, I would have taken every thread of clothing I had on and left it in a heap on the floor so I could really give the good Father a show. The lighting was poor and the space was cramped and confined so I had to make the best of my circumstances. I was more aroused than I had been in a long time. So close, but yet so far, was this man, a virile man who took a vow of chastity whom I had tempted to sin. I had to use the only skills I could to get us both off, and that was my ability to talk dirty. “I know you want this wet, Black pussy, Father. You want to lay me down on your bed, push my legs back, and aim your hard cock and my unrepentant, sinful cunt, don’t you? You want to bend me over, my big, round ass sticking up for you to slide your hard dick in me like your animal instincts tell you to do, fuck me hard, make me scream, make me cum all over you. You want that, don’t you? You want to give me pleasure with your stiff dick in me, make me feel like a woman. You want to feel like a man when you pump your thick, hot cum up inside me.”

The chiming of the doorbell echoed through the large house. Kat debated ignoring it, but then set aside the book she’d been reading and unwound herself from the sofa. She knew that Isabel and Jean-Paul, both night owls, wouldn’t be up to answer the door.

She opened the door and took a step back in shock.

“You,” said Kat. “How on Earth did you find me?”

The boy looked terrible. Dark rings framed his eyes and there was a look of general dishevelment about him. “I followed my heart and asked a few questions. You’re not hard to find.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Kat, her heart racing. She stood in the middle of the doorway.

“May I come in?”

Kat was about to refuse him but feared making a scene out here where the neighbors might see. Scenes, particularly in this neighborhood, were to be avoided. She stepped aside, inviting him in. She led him to the sitting room.

“Nice place,” Daniel said.

“It’s comfortable.” Then she added, lest Daniel think her a snob, “It has been in the family for generations.”

“I can imagine.”

Kat asked him to sit on the leather sofa and she took a seat on an armchair. “Can I get you anything?”

Daniel shook his head.

He looked pale. The cocksure energy of their first meeting was gone, replaced by energy of a different kind. It was an energy that, without release, would consume him. She had caught hints of it over the last few days as she went about her business in the town. It was nothing she invited or responded to, it was just there like background noise that seemingly grew louder in the absence of distraction. At least that was the way it had started. And once she became consciously aware of its frequency, she found it difficult to ignore. Often there would be nothing more than a muted hum, and then a wave of yearning, focused and intense, would wash over her, particularly in the early hours of the new day. She wasn’t surprised that Daniel had found her.

And now its source sat before her.

Kat noticed that Daniel wore a bandage around his hand and made a move to touch it.

Daniel snatched it away, closing his fingers around and wincing as he did so.

She watched him for several moments as he fidgeted on the sofa and looked at everything in the room but her. Finally, his eyes fell on her, eyes suffused with such pain and confusion that it was Kat who had to avert her gaze. “Please don’t visit me anymore,” said Daniel finally.

“Visit you? I don’t even know where you live.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“What then?”

“At night. You visit me. If you have any decency in you, please stop.”

“I’ve done no such thing.”

Daniel looked at her, trying to spot the lie.

“Honest,” said Kat.

“And I’m to believe you?”

“Believe what you want. I’ve never visited you.”

He leaned back in his seat, confusion and anger etched on his face.

“Could you have dreamed it?” Kat asked quietly.

Daniel remained silent for a long moment, obviously debating what Kat had suggested. She pitied him.

“It was so real,” he said finally, his face betraying loss and relief at the same time.

“You sound almost disappointed.” Kat immediately regretted the words.

“Of course you would think so. Imagine someone not wanting to be tormented by you. It was a mistake to have come here, expecting to reason with a demon.”

There, it was said, thought Kat. Yet she felt none of the surprise and anger that she would have expected at being identified for what she was. Nor did she feel compelled to deny or dissemble. More than anything, she was curious. For the first time in a long time, she was faced with a mortal who knew exactly what she was.

“Any torment you feel is of your own making,” she said. “I have done nothing to encourage you.”

“Your very existence torments me,” said Daniel. He glanced at her. There was nothing even remotely suggestive about the way she was dressed, yet she felt his attraction to her.

“I feel possessed,” he continued. “Don’t you understand? You occupy my dreams. You come to me every night and I am powerless.”

“These things are in your mind.”

“You come to me every night,” he insisted again.

Kat felt a sudden wave of desperate yearning. There was more to it than what Daniel had suggested. “And we do things,” she said quietly.


“Things both sinful and wonderful.”


“Things that you would like to do. With me.”

“Yes, but you’re evil. That’s the terrible thing.”

“Do I look evil?”

“You are though. Do you deny it?”

Kat took a deep breath. “No.”

If she’d expected her admission to be greeted with triumph, she was disappointed.

Daniel looked thoroughly deflated and cornered. “There’s nothing I can do. Can’t you talk to a priest or something?”

“I try not to think of you,” continued Daniel as though Kat hadn’t spoken, “but you can’t not think of something. I read the catechism until I can read no more and the minute my eyes close, you’re there.”

“But I’m not. It’s all in your mind.”

“I don’t believe you. I can’t believe you. There’s too much detail. Tell me that you don’t wear body jewelry, for example. Tell me that your private parts aren’t pierced.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Kat was stunned. How could he have known? It was impossible. She hadn’t visited him.

“There’s a ring,” Daniel continued. “It pierces your… clitoris. It has two bumps on it. Please tell me you don’t have one. Maybe then I’ll believe you.”

The ring, a souvenir from her time in what was now the Czech Republic, pierced the base of the clitoral hood where it met the inner labia. The ring had no beginning and no end, and featured two little horns, each tipped with a ruby.

“I can tell by your reaction that it’s true.”

Kat stared at him hard. There was no way he could have known.

“You are a liar,” he said.

Impossible or not, there appeared to be some kind of connection between them. What was going on? Kat wondered.


Kat didn’t hear them enter. She was still stunned by Daniel’s apparent intimate knowledge of her. Only Daniel’s look of surprise and fear announced their presence.

She turned. Isabel and Jean-Paul stood, both stone-faced, in the doorway.

Her heart sank. “You heard?” asked Kat.

Isabel nodded and Jean-Paul merely scowled. He did that well.

“Who are these people?” asked Daniel.

Isabel ignored him. “Kat, this is an unconscionable breach.”

Kat shrugged helplessly. “I know. He found me.”

Isabel stared hard at Daniel. “You’ve made a grave mistake in coming here.”

Something in Isabel’s tone momentarily robbed Daniel of words. He paled visibly. “God, there are more of you,” he finally managed to say.

“More than you know,” growled Jean-Paul.

Daniel fumbled for the cross that hung from a chain on his neck. He held it up.

Jean-Paul laughed. “We’re not vampires, for Christ’s sake. Really, Kat, where did you find this guy?”

“Put that away,” said Kat.

“I can leave,” he said eventually. “I’ll forget what I know.”

“I’m afraid that is no longer possible,” said Isabel.

Kat feared for him. He had walked into a situation he could not possibly understand and now things could only get worse for him.

“I have no doubt,” continued Isabel, “that you would bring unwanted attention to not only Kat but our entire house. We’re comfortable here. It has been a long time since the last mitered buffoon came here, sputtering a few verses in broken Latin and waving his arms around. He was quite harmless to us, but a nuisance nonetheless. We have no desire to repeat that experience.

“Just so you understand, we have no fear of exorcists. You might be tempted to make a lot of noise about the demon who inhabits you, but in all likelihood, you’d be institutionalized if you did. No one really wants to believe that Satan’s wolves walk among the lambs. Not in these times of sophistication and skepticism. But there’s always a chance that your wild statements would reach the right ears. Things are in balance now; we turn a few souls and another few repent. Everyone’s happy and there’s enough activity to keep things interesting. However, there are times when it would take almost nothing to whip up the zealots and upset the balance.

“That, unfortunately, would escalate this oldest of wars to an extent neither side wants. No, until we figure out what to do with you, you’re not leaving.”

Daniel’s mouth hung open.

“Take him to the guest room,” said Isabel to Kat. “Jean-Paul, ensure that security is enabled.”

“What’s happening?” asked Daniel.

Kat stood. “Come with me.”


Daniel’s mind whirled as Kat led him up the stairs.

“Where are you taking me?” he stammered.

Kat ignored the question. “As Isabel said, you made a mistake in coming here. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“So I’m… what? A prisoner?”

“So it seems. Until we decide what to do with you.”

Daniel stopped on the stairs. He couldn’t believe this. “I refuse. I’m leaving.”

“And what would you do if I let you go?

“I’d have to return to the church.”


“Tell them everything. I couldn’t remain silent.”

“Isabel and Jean-Paul won’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will!” Daniel shrieked.

“For someone who has exhibited some intelligence and intuition, you still really don’t know what you’re dealing with. Unless you have a martyr complex, I suggest that you come with me, be quiet, and wait.”

Daniel hesitated, his eyes flitting to the base of the stairs. His escape route took him past the room in which Isabel and Jean-Paul conferred. He couldn’t possibly make it. Besides, Jean-Paul scared him.

“You can’t win this fight,” said Kat.

Daniel allowed Kat to take his uninjured hand and lead him to a door at the end of the long hallway. She opened it, revealing a sumptuously furnished bedroom.

She pushed him into the room and closed the door behind them. His confusion and the sudden proximity of the succubus made him dizzy.

She grasped his upper arm and gazed at him with what appeared to be genuine concern. “I suggest that you don’t try to escape. Don’t give Jean-Paul any excuses. You’ll be comfortable here. I’ll be back up as soon as I can.”

She removed the key from the inside of the door. “I suggest that you rest if you can.”

She exited and he heard the lock turn from the outside.

After Kat’s footsteps had receded, he went to the window and looked out on a dense woodlot. He couldn’t imagine flagging anyone down. He then examined the window itself and noticed the sensors that were undoubtedly connected to the alarm system.

As far as picking the lock, he wouldn’t know where to begin.

He sat on the edge of the bed, defeated.

He was a prisoner.


Kat stood just outside the room in which Isabel and Jean-Paul argued.

“Kill him,” said Jean-Paul again. “It’s the only way.”

Kat knew that this was a very real option, but it was still difficult to hear Jean-Paul say it.

“Let’s examine the possibilities first,” said Isabel with unnerving calm. “I’m unwilling to kill the boy unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

“Then I will.”

“No,” implored Kat, entering the sitting room.

Jean-Paul turned on her. “You would risk the peace that we’ve enjoyed and bring attention to us now? For a boy, far from home, unlucky enough to have uncovered who resides in his adopted city?”

“There’s got to be another way. I can leave, go to another country. He doesn’t care about you and Isabel.”

“But he knows about us now. We’d still be left with the possibility of exposure.”

“Enough,” said Isabel.

“You think that you can ask him politely to ignore what he’s discovered?”

“Enough,” said Isabel again, forcefully enough to silence them. After several minutes, she asked, “Have you ever visited him?”


“But he appears to know you.” Isabel put emphasis on the word ‘know’.

“I honestly don’t know how. I’ve never visited him, consciously.”

Isabel nodded and fell silent again. Jean-Paul stood in the corner, shaking his head, his eyes shooting daggers at Kat. She considered sticking out her tongue at him and then thought better of it.

“You could bind him,” said Isabel.

Kat scarcely heard her. Bind him. She recoiled at the thought. Killing him would be more merciful. And yet…

“But that is something we must consider very carefully,” Isabel continued. “We can’t let him go, and killing him,” she turned to Jean-Paul, “may just bring to this house the attention that we wish to avoid. We cannot be rash in our decision.

“Jean-Paul, until I have come to a decision, you are to leave the boy alone. Not one hair on his head is to be harmed. Do you understand?”

Jean-Paul scowled and nodded.

“Kat, the boy is your responsibility. He is to remain here for as long as is necessary. If anything more should happen that imperils this house, the blame is yours and yours alone and you shall bear the consequences.”

With that, Isabel swept up the stairs to her quarters.

Jean-Paul glared at Kat furiously and then stalked away.

Once again, Kat stood alone.


“Troubles, Isabel?”

They were seated in the priest’s study. Isabel swirled the single-malt scotch in her glass, watching the light flicker playfully through the amber liquid.

“One of your lambs appears to have wandered into the lion’s den.”

The priest raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a complication neither of us needs,” added Isabel.

“I agree.”

“We’re comfortable now,” said Isabel.

“Perhaps too comfortable,” mused the priest.

The priest was right, of course. A time that enabled priests and demons to discuss current affairs over a drink couldn’t last. It was a cease-fire, nothing more. But it was a détente even more precious for its fragility. Isabel planned to enjoy it for as long as it lasted. And of late, her enjoyment of it extended to the company of a priest.

The priest stood and positioned himself behind her chair. His hands fell to her shoulders and gently kneaded them. “You’re tense.”

Isabel smiled. “And you know just how to relax me.”

“I’ve had practice.”

After a few minutes, his hands left her shoulders and moved to her forehead, smoothing out the tension that furrowed her brow. From there he ran his fingers through her hair to the location where he knew her horns to be.

Isabel purred her pleasure. “Do you want me to assume the form?”


“Only if you promise to keep your collar on.”

“Done,” he said.

Isabel’s horns materialized from her wavy auburn locks. The priest’s fingers stroked them, tracing the twin spirals from the base to the blunted tips.

After a minute, Isabel said, “I can’t feel that, you know.”

“I can,” said the priest, but took his cue and willed his hands elsewhere.

“What do you propose we do?” asked Isabel.

“Make love with the abandon of the damned?”

“Please don’t talk that way. About the boy.”

“Ah.” He deftly undid the buttons of her blouse and exposed her bare breasts, each crowned with a small pink jewel of a nipple. He cupped their fullness and kneaded them gently. “We could give it a few days. See what happens. Let fate take its course.”

“There is no fate,” said Isabel, a little more sharply than she’d intended. More softly, she added, “There’s conflict and brutality for all of the fleeting moments of peace. But I’d come to the same conclusion.”

“Of course, when either of us feels that intervention is needed, all bets are off. It’s back to our respective corners.”

Isabel sighed. “I know.”

“That being said, we’d have to discuss matters every day.”

“As we’re doing now?”

He pinched her nipples playfully. “We’d be remiss if we didn’t.”

Isabel hummed her pleasure. “Deal.”

In the kind of choreography of those who’ve been intimate for a long time, he walked to the front of the chair and Isabel rose. He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve missed you,” he said.

“And I you,” said Isabel earnestly.

He unfastened her skirt and allowed it to fall to the floor. “Let me look at you.”

“I’m yours,” she said.

The priest took a step back and allowed his eyes to travel up from her feet to her head. Isabel could see his arousal. His eyes lit upon the horns and he shook his head sadly.

“I know,” said Isabel.

She approached him then and quickly removed his clothing except for his collar, as per their agreement.

Her being shimmered and wings materialized from her back. Like Kat’s, her wings bore feathers rather than the leathery tissue common in depictions of succubi. She walked into his waiting arms and wrapped her wings around him, cocooning him in their soft warmth and pressing her breasts to his chest. She held him tightly and felt his hardness against her abdomen.

“Nothing good can become of this,” whispered the priest.

Isabel didn’t ask whether he meant the two of them or the boy. “Let us try to forget for a little while,” she whispered back.

She reached for the table on which rested her glass of scotch. She took a mouthful and, without swallowing it, squatted before him. She grasped his cock and guided it to her lips. Scotch and her tongue swirled around the thickly veined shaft in her mouth.

“Oh, God,” whispered the priest.

That’s one of the things she found interesting about the priest. He could compartmentalize. He was a genuinely good man, an able leader of his flock, yet he still enjoyed having his cock sucked by a succubus.

After several minutes, she could taste his pre-come mixing with the smoky flavor of the scotch.

“Stop!” he gasped.

She did as he asked and retreated. The priest’s cock, primed and proud, glistened in the subdued lighting of the study. She swallowed the liquid in her mouth and rose to her feet.

“I almost….”

Isabel winked. “I know, but I like blended scotch too.”

The priest grinned. “Your turn.”

Isabel allowed herself to be steered to the armchair. The priest had her sit and lowered himself to his knees in front of her.

This was something she treasured – a man who gave himself willingly, with no influence from her. That he was a priest, an agent of the church who professed abstinence among other things, made his actions all the sweeter.

He worked down from her lips, kissing them and then her neck. He brushed his lips against her breasts and then sucked her nipples as though gathering nourishment there. Perhaps he was, thought Isabel.

He pulled her legs toward him so that her ass nearly hung off the chair. Gently he pushed her legs apart.

He lightly licked her. Moreso than any other man she’d been with, he went about his exploration of her in a deliciously unhurried pace. He teased his tongue around the tender flesh that framed her labia for several minutes while ever so gently brushing his fingers her tender folds. At length he pressed the tip of his tongue against her perineum and then commenced a slow and deliberate passage from the very base of her sex to her clitoris, leaving an excited tingle in his wake.

She watched his head between her legs and caught the occasional flash of tongue as it danced on her. Eventually she closed her eyes and gave herself over the feeling of his tongue and fingers. This had nothing to do with feeding; this was pure enjoyment for its own sake. This was a man who wanted to give pleasure without any coercion on her part and who demanded equal pleasure in return. Both might pay a price for their unnatural liaison, but in this moment, it was well worth it.

Isabel felt herself melting under the priest’s ministrations as jolts of electricity warmed her core.

He inserted a finger and hooked it gently, rubbing that blessed spot from the inside while his tongue mirrored the motion on her clitoris. She opened herself wider to him now and tilted her pelvis. She could feel that familiar rush that presaged release. He could feel it too and he quickened his pace.

Her attention focused on that glowing, molten spot of pleasure that radiated a tingling warmth through her being. She gasped as the priest worked mercilessly on those twin spots of ecstasy, one outside and the other inside. Soon the world dissolved into little more than those sensations and the outflowing of release as she arched her back and let herself be swept away.

Ellie woke up after a night of tossing and turning, of thinking of her old bedroom and the comforts it offered. She began to cry; partly blaming her mother for driving her away; yet knowing it was her own choice in seeking the freedom to do as she wanted.

“Well, I’m on my own now, for sure,” she said aloud as she wiped her tears away.

After counting her money, Ellie realized that she would have to get a job in order to have a place to stay and food to eat. Knowing she had to vacate the motel room by eleven that morning, she showered, dressed and headed for the diner Jared had recommended the day before. She took note that Interstate 40 was several blocks from the diner, and that she was now in a town called Cary.

She entered the diner and found a booth away from any of the customers and filled her stomach with pancakes and bacon. She chatted briefly with the waitress, a girl not much older than herself, then left the diner and wandered into a nearby park, sat down on a grassy hillock to figure out what to do next. It wasn’t long before she realized that teenagers without homes have few options.

‘I have to do whatever is necessary to get by, ‘ she told herself, and began to cry once more.

Around two in the afternoon, she left the park and determined to explore the town of Cary.

One of the first things she found was that Cary was cleaner than any town she had ever been to before. Another thing that shook her to the core was the number of police cars patrolling the streets. None stopped to question her, but from the corner of her eye she saw them looking at her and shivered.

Finding a shopping mall, Ellie took refuge in it, feeling she could lose herself among the many shops and customers. She was right, discovering that she blended in with all the women and teenagers already trolling the shops for bargains and items that were far from bargains.

To kill time until dark, Ellie took in a movie and saw it twice. It was getting dark when she wandered from the mall, and began walking along the less traveled streets. When hunger pangs could no longer be put off, she ventured into a greasy café and ordered a hamburger and French fries.

After taking a bite of the burger, Ellie felt someone watching her. She used the window beside her to good advantage and in its reflection saw that a young woman was watching her as she ate. Ellie decided to ignore her, and finished her meal. But when she stepped outside she found the woman was waiting for her.

“Hi,” the woman said in greeting.

“Hi,” Ellie replied, but refrained from saying anything else.

“I haven’t seen you around,” the woman said.

Ellie studied the woman. She really wasn’t that old. She wore a little too much makeup. Her clothing was tight, giving her a sexy look.

“I’m Vivian, but most call me Viv.”

Ellie nodded that she had heard, but said nothing.

“Not going to tell me your name, huh?” Viv said sardonically. “I don’t blame you. Shouldn’t talk to strangers … my own mother told me that. She was wrong about that as well as a lotta other things. But suit yourself. Let’s see if I’m right. You’re on the run. You have some dough, not too much, and you’re looking for a job.”

“So?” Ellie replied defiantly, “What of it?”

“I knew it!” Viv said gleefully. “I just knew it!”

Ellie turned away and began to walk, only to find that Viv had settled in beside her.

“What do you want?” Ellie said, prepared to fight if necessary.

Viv recognized this and sought to calm her fears. “Wait a minute, girl. I’m trying to help you out, you being on the run and all.”

“I’ll say it again, what do you want?”

“Like I said, I want to help a girl in distress.”

“I’m not in distress, ‘ Ellie replied hotly.

“Them cops come around the corner and see us hollering at one another you’ll have plenty of distress, honey.”

“What cops?” Ellie said, suddenly quailing before the woman.

“Didn’t see the sneaky bastards, did you?”

“No, I…”

“They’ll be coming around the corner in a second, so let’s start walking like we’re girl friends, okay?”

Ellie fell in beside the woman and sure enough, a squad car drifted by them moments later, hardly giving them a glance.

“Thanks, I guess,” Ellie said, glancing at the woman.

“Viv, call me Viv,” the woman said with a generous smile.

“Ellie,” Ellie admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Ellie, huh? Well, Ellie, us girls got to help one another. It’s a tough world out there.”

They wandered into the park Ellie had spent some time in earlier. “Aren’t you afraid of being in the park after dark?” Ellie asked Viv.

“I make my money here,” Viv said easily. “This place has been very good to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This is where the john’s come. The cops can’t drive in here, and they’re too damned lazy to walk. I suspect they’re probably afraid to walk in without a support team right behind them.”


“I’m a hooker, Ellie, plain and simple. Man comes by, I offer to suck him, fuck him, or whatever else the man might have in mind. As long as he has the money to pay for my services, I’ll do him and then we go our separate ways.”

Ellie took a step back, and then smiled. Getting laid was fun enough. Getting paid for it sounded great to her young ears.

“Can I make enough to afford a place to live?”

“Sure, and you can move in with me until you have enough to go out on your own. I mean to get your own place. We could work as a team, maybe offering some john’s a two for one deal.”

“Oh… ” Ellie gulped.

Thinking that she had frightened Ellie, Vivian quickly added, “What I mean is, once you get into the trade it won’t seem that bad. After a while, you’ll have done everything there is to do sexually. I really mean that.”

“I thought I’d get a regular job, you know, waitressing, or something.”

“Kiddo, you’re not making any real dough waitressing. Plus before they hire you they want phone numbers and an address, work experience and references, and education. Got any of that stuff?”

“No … no, I don’t.”

“Maybe you see my point then. Why, you can’t even cash a check if someone paid you.”

“Then it’s hopeless…” Ellie said and began to cry.

Taking the teen into her arms and embracing her, Vivian soothingly whispered to her. “Work with me. Everything will turn out just fine.”

“I guess…” Ellie sniffled.

“All right then,” Vivian said, as if the matter was settled. “A john will be coming along soon; it’s just dark enough for them to feel safe.”

“Viv, is it difficult finding these men?”

“Hell, no! They come here looking for it.”

“Would they want someone like me? You know – someone on the run?”

“You’re a sure thing, Ellie. You ain’t a virgin, are you?”

Ellie giggled, “Not hardly.”

“Good. Tell you what. When the first john strolls by here, you hide behind the bushes there. You watch how I handle him. Most are all the same. They say something like, “Hello,” you smile at them. They ask how much … usually they want a blowjob, or whatever. You just tell then the price.”

“What do you charge them?” Ellie inquired.

“Whatever you can get. For instance, you say fifty for a blowjob. If they haggle with you, you might come down to twenty-five. Getting laid is something else. I charge a hundred for that, more if the guy looks like he can afford it. One time I got three hundred from a john.”

“Wow!” Ellie exclaimed. “That’s big money.”

“I want you to understand something, Ellie. I’m setting you up and all, so I think I should get some of your earnings.”

“How much?” Ellie asked, warily.

“Fifteen percent, and that’s not all that much for teaching you the tricks of the trade and keeping you out of trouble.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ellie said, and the two shook hands.

“What do I do?”

“Nothing, just watch me and how I handle them. You can see good from behind that bush over there,” Viv said, and pointed to a spot behind them.

Ellie went to the spot indicated by Vivian and promptly told her: “I can’t see shit from here.”

“I won’t be standing out here when I take on the john. I’ll be…” and she took five steps toward Ellie, then turned in the opposite direction so that she too was hidden from view of any stray passersby. “… right here!”

Ellie began to understand what was about to happen. Viv would meet her john and after agreeing to have sex, they would hide in the bushes just as she was doing.

“Hush, I think someone’s coming this way!”

Ellie went into a crouch trying to make herself less conspicuous, and Vivian stepped out into the pathway they had just left.

“Hello. Nice night for a stroll isn’t it?” she said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

The man was in his fifties and extremely nervous. “Yeah … hello yourself.”

Viv approached the man, until she was standing right next to him. He couldn’t help but see the swell of her breasts as they lolled happily in the peasant blouse she wore to entice her customers.

“I … I’ve got fifty bucks,” he said nervously.

“What’ll that get me?”

“How does a blowjob sound?”

He laughed, although still nervous. “Um, where? Not right here where anyone could come by and see us.”

Taking him by the arm, Viv gently led him into the area she had told Ellie she would.

“Here, now. Look around, sweetie. Is this good enough?” And without asking, Viv got down on her knees and began to unzip the man’s fly.

After his cock was exposed, Viv said, “I’d like the fifty now, you don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure,” he said, handing her several bills, which she counted, and then tucked away in a pocket with a zipper.

“I … I’ve never done this before,” he said, still very nervous.

“Relax, sweetie, I’ll be very nice to you. Here, see?” That said, she took his penis into her mouth and laved him with her tongue. The man was small and still not fully erect. But Viv kept sucking him and gently rubbing his balls. Taking him from her mouth, she looked up at him, “Are you liking this?”

“God, yes!” he exclaimed.

From her hidden vantage point, Ellie could tell what was happening, but did not have a clear view. Still, it seemed easy enough, especially the way Viv had gotten him to pay her up front. ‘Always get the money first, ‘ Ellie chided herself.

Within another minute the man had expended himself and was hurriedly zipping his fly.

“Did you enjoy it?” Viv inquired innocently.

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “It was very good. I only wish my…”

“Wives tend not to do those things,” Viv said kindly enough. “That’s why I’m out here waiting almost every night for a fine gentleman like you to come along. Will I be seeing you again?”

“I think so,” he answered. “Thank you, and good night.”

And he vanished into the darkness.


Ellie sprang from her hiding place and Viv handed her five dollars.

“What’s this for?” the teen asked.

“You give me 15%, I give you 10%. Not quite even, but I’ve got the experience. Later we may work out different terms, okay?”

“Okay,” Ellie said staring at the easiest five dollars she’d ever earned.

“Now the next trick is all yours. Are you ready?”

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“No fucking around now. You’re either ready or you’re not.”

“I’m ready, Viv. I’m ready. Fifty for a blowjob, right?”

“That’s right. Now I’m going to make myself scarce. You stick around until a john shows. Got it?”

“Got it!” Ellie said although her knees were trembling.

Viv disappeared into the brush, and Ellie waited for a john to appear. As the minutes crept by without anyone coming down the path, Ellie felt herself growing wet with anticipation. Finally she heard someone approaching and tried to straighten her clothing by brushing it with downward swoops of her hands. Then, with the man almost abreast of her, Ellie remembered to greet him.

“Hello. Nice evening, isn’t it?” she inquired.

The man, a rather young man, was caught off guard by her greeting and stepped back from her in alarm.

“I won’t bite you,” Ellie said, and then, unable to help herself, she giggled.

“I know you won’t bite me,” the young man said. “Are you … are you by any chance, a working girl?”

While the term was unfamiliar to Ellie, she understood him and responded, “Yes, I am. What can I interest you in?”

“I’d like a … a blo … a blowjob,” he stammered.

“I can help you there,” Ellie said. “But it will cost you a hundred dollars.”

“A Hun … hundred dollars!’ he exclaimed, seemingly shocked.

If the young man was shocked, Viv was stunned. ‘She’ll ruin everything!’ she thought, and cursed herself for getting involved with a rank amateur.

“Yes, a hundred dollars,” Ellie said, feeling a kind of power come over her. Instinctively, she knew he would pay her what she was demanding.

“Okay, okay, but you better be good.”

“Have you taken a good look at me?” she asked.

“Err, yes, err, no!” he said, confused.

“Well, look at these,” Ellie said, and lifted her sweater, revealing her pert breasts.


‘Jesus, indeed, ‘ Vivian thought. ‘The girl’s a natural, ‘ she told herself, contradicting her earlier thought.

“Want to taste them?”

“Jesus, yes!” he gulped.

And, cupping her breasts with both hands, she moved closer to him, allowing him to suck first one nipple and then the other.

“Now,” she said abruptly taking her breasts away from him, “the money, please.”

The young man removed a wallet from his hip pocket and fished out five twenty dollar bills and shoved them into Ellie’s hand. Putting the bills into the bottom of her shoe, she replaced the shoe, and knelt before him.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” the young man said.

“What’s your name?” Ellie asked.

“Freddie,” he answered.

“Well, Freddie, I’m gonna give you the best blowjob ever.”

That said, Ellie took his rapidly rising cock in both hands and rubbed it as if trying to start a fire.

“Oh, God!”

Satisfied that he was fully erect she licked the precum from the tip and kissed her way down his shaft.

Freddie groaned.

Ellie had to reach into his trousers to find his testicles, then withdrew them into the open air and popped his cock from between his lips, announcing, “Now I’m gonna lick your balls, Freddie.”

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, and if Ellie had not been holding his manhood by the root as she lapped away at his balls, he would have cum then and there.

Releasing his balls, she sighed and whispered loud enough for Freddie to hear, “They’re so sweet. I’ll get back to them, I promise but I have to suck your big ole cock for a while.”

“Oh, yeah, can you lick it?”

“Mmmm,” and she did just that.

“Oh, oh, careful of the teeth!”

“Mmmm,” and removing him from her mouth, Ellie apologized, “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Sweet Jesus!” he groaned. “That’s soooo fuckin’ nice!”

Taking him from her mouth again, she bent her neck in order to lick his testicles as she had promised.

“No! No! Don’t stop!”

“Whatever,” she said, and took him back into her mouth and swirled her tongue over his swollen glands.

“You are great at this,” Freddie admitted.

Holding him tightly, she took him out again and asked,”You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“No, no! I mean, I’ve only had one before, and that was…” Freddie left the sentence dangling like his dick would have been had Ellie not had a tight grip on it.

“Some guy, huh?” she said, taking a guess.

“How’d you know that?” he asked, showing alarm about his secret being revealed.

“Don’t worry about it. We all have to start somewhere,” Ellie said soothingly. “But I’m better, huh?”

“A thousand times…”

“I’m glad,” she purred.

“What … What’s your name?”

“Ellie,” she replied without hesitation.

“L. E.?”

“No, Ellie, as in Ellen, or Eileen.”

“Oh,” he said, placing his hand on her head, wanting to help her to finish him off.

“Hey, you want me to bite?”


“Don’t go pushing my head. I’ll only take as much as I want to, understand?”

“Yes, sorry,” he said, removing his hand and placing it on her shoulder just to put it someplace.

When she resumed blowing him, Freddie groaned,

“Oh! You’re so warm around me. Can … can I kiss you… after?”

“Mmmm,” she replied.

“Oh, yes!” Freddie exclaimed, “Move up and down, yeah, like that.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” And a moment later he was exploding into her mouth. Ellie swallowed some, but remembering his request for a kiss, saved some … for him.

“Oh, Jesus, that was awesome!” he gasped, as his cock dropped from Ellie’s ripe mouth.

“Still want that kiss?” she asked coquettishly.

“S … sure,” he said tentatively, pursing his lips.

‘The little devil,’ Vivian thought as she watched from her hiding place, knowing what Ellie was about to do.

Ellie brought her mouth to his and sent her tongue, liberally coated with his sperm, into his mouth, then sucked his tongue into her mouth.

Freddie never knew he was swallowing some of his semen, so lost was he in the throes of kissing this beautiful girl.

A few minutes later, Freddie, after promising to be back the following night with at least three hundred dollars, disappeared into the darkness.

Vivian wanted to provide a few more pointers to Ellie, but another ‘client’ happened along and she drew him into the bushes for a quick fuck.

When he left, the two women gave each other the agreed upon percentage from their respective

‘tricks’. Then Viv decided to call it a night, for she had information to impart to the young runaway about the do’s and don’ts of fucking a John.

They went to an all night diner, and Viv had coffee and Danish; Ellie a vanilla shake. Viv complemented Ellie on her ability to size up the john’s after only a few brief words with them. “But I’m telling you,” she said, “there’re johns and there’s johns. Some are different as night is too day.”

Dabbing at her lips with a napkin, Ellie said,

“I don’t understand.”

“Some men are easy to read, like your Freddie. But I’m warning you, be careful of all of them. Some are predators, and dangerous to a working girl. You’ve heard about serial killers, right?”

Ellie’s eyes widened as she nodded her head.

“I thought so,” Viv said, also nodding. “It just so happens they like picking on us working girls; making us their victims.”

“God!” Ellie gasped, shocked by the news.

“Yeah, better to be careful around them. All of them. That’s why it’s good to work together, like we did tonight. You know if someone tries something the other can come and help, or get help. Screaming is good. I’ve got a police whistle that I keep with me. I’ll pick one up for you in the morning. Blow that and the police will come running. The pervert will take off, not wanting to risk having to explain himself to them.”

“I had no idea,” Ellie said, obviously shaken by Viv’s information.

“Most johns are okay. Some are weird, but most are normal, if wanting a perfect stranger to blow you is normal.”

Ellie giggled into her straw, obviously feeling better.

“Tell me something, Ellie. How did you know the john would pay you what you asked?”

“He was dressed in expensive clothes, spoke like a college guy, and smelled nice.”

“I’ve had some like that wouldn’t meet me halfway on price. I had to walk away.”

“Really? It never occurred to me,” Ellie told her.

“Maybe you were lucky, maybe not. Just keep what I told you in mind at all times.”

“I will, and thanks Viv. So what kind of perv’s have you met?”

“In this business, over time you’ll meet all of them. There are guys who want to pee on you, or worse.”


“Some want you to do it to them.”

“You did this in the park?”

Vivian laughed a deep hearty laugh. “No, Most of the time I use a motel, or hotel room. It’s really too cold out here in the winter, and then, the vice squad occasionally comes around and makes things uncomfortable for us hookers.”

“Do you have a particular place you use? I ask ’cause I’d guess you’d get a good rate and all, using the place every day.”

“Good question. I have two places that I frequent. One I get half price.”


“No wow about it. It costs me a blowjob later on that evening. Still, it’s worth it considering the money saved. Sometimes I even get the john to pay for the room. Then my ‘friend’ splits the cash with me after the john leaves.”

“You think I should take Freddie to one of these rooms tomorrow?”

“Not a bad idea, Ellie; if he’s paying three hundred, why not? You never know if he’ll turn out to be a cash cow.”

“A cash cow, gee, I never heard that one before.”

“I should fill you in on the cops.”

“What about them? I mean, they catch me doing it, I get arrested, right?”

“Not necessarily. See, if the john you’re with is somebody important, they may let you both go. Or, they might take the john’s money … and yours too, for that matter. And before they let you go, you’ll have to give them a freebie or two.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, no, it’s never that simple. They’ll ask you questions; all kinds of questions. They do this to see if you know anything about any crimes committed recently, or to see if you know anyone they happen to be looking for. In other words, they try to make you an informer. Whatever you do, don’t give up any information too easily. They won’t believe you. Let them slap you around a little, or threaten you with serious time first.”

Ellie didn’t care for the part about getting slapped around at all, and said so.

“Its life, sweetie, think of the alternative – jail time.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said simply. “That is worse.”

The two talked for another hour before calling it quits and left the diner. It was two in the morning, fairly early for hookers to knock off work.


Ellie met Freddie the following night in the park, and sure enough, he had the money, handing it to her as soon as they met.

“I’ve never done it with a girl as pretty as you,” he said right off.

Ellie flushed. She was not used to compliments from men. Usually she was gaga over them and so horny she couldn’t wait to spread her legs. But Freddie was different; she found herself growing sweet on him. She was well aware that Vivian had stressed that she not get involved with her johns, but still, there was something about Freddie.

She brought him to the room Vivian recommended; she would blow the desk clerk afterward. That had already been established. She did not gouge Freddie for room money, thinking three hundred should entitle him to a warm bed.

To her surprise, he was shy at first. She chided herself for not rubbing his dick and making him hot right away, but she was enjoying her time with him, wanting to prolong it as long as necessary. Part of her reasoning was that Viv would have her out walking the park as soon as she finished with him. The other reason, of course, was her liking him and wanting to have him return again, ‘And,’ she told herself, ‘Viv can’t bitch about that.’

They started off sitting in the only chair in the dingy hotel room, a rickety armchair. Ellie coaxed Freddie into a brief necking session, kissing him on the mouth, encouraging him until he sent his tongue out to meet hers.

“Touch me, Freddie,” she cooed, and he ran a hand along her leg, up and down and Ellie found herself growing aroused.

‘Hmmm, ‘ she thought, ‘I think I’m liking this,” and she began to work the zipper of his fly.

Once his reasonably sized cock came into view, Freddie suggested they get on the bed.

“Sure, baby,” Ellie replied. “Want me to get on top?”

“Sure,” he said, “you lead, I’ll follow.”

“Oh, you’re so cute!” she giggled as she fitted a rubber on his weenie.

Settling down on him and drawing his dick into her recesses, she began to rock to and fro. Freddie came quickly, jetting a full load into the tight fitting rubber. Ellie took pains in removing the rubber from his limp dick. She had never used one before, and marveled at the amount of life-forming fluid contained in the skin-like sac.

Freddie started to put his underwear on, but Ellie touched his thigh and shook her head. “We’re not finished lover boy,” she said in a husky tone.

“I thought…” he began, but Ellie put a hand round his neck and pulled him to her and kissed him. They necked for almost thirty minutes, Ellie thoroughly enjoying every minute of it. Freddie couldn’t have been happier and he was rock hard when her mouth closed over him; and as she blew him, he explored her finely toned body, ending up by fingering her pussy, already wet and receptive to his single digit entry.

Then, to Freddie’s delight, Ellie began to buck against his finger.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, almost frightened at the prospect.

“Yeah…” she gasped, having taken his member from between her lips. “I’m gonna cum all right. Keep that up Freddie, just like that!”

Ellie couldn’t believe it when instead of proceeding, he stopped.

“What … Freddie!” she cried in way of complaining. But Freddie, highly inflamed by her words, picked Ellie up and brought her back to the armchair and bent her over the chair so her face was buried in the cushions, her behind up in the air. Freddie roughly pulled her legs apart, and Ellie offered no resistance as she was breathing heavily, turned on by his actions, and caught up wondering what he was up to.

She found out soon enough, for Freddie started feeling her ass with one hand and her pussy with the other.

Ellie liked it and said a few encouraging words to that effect. He responded by slipping two fingers into her sodden snatch, while his other hand clutched at her ass and gave it the hardest squeeze she’d ever had. Several finger thrusts later, Ellie felt her orgasm building.

Freddie had no idea of the response he was extracting from his rented lover. So when he experimented with trying to send his thumb into her asshole and she went over the edge and screamed with pleasure, poor Freddie thought he’d done some type of damage to her cunt and stopped cold.

“No! No! Keep going!” she screamed even louder, thinking her climax was about to be taken from her.

Then his cock was pushing into her cunt, and with one thrust she cried out, “Yes! That’s it! That’s it!”

Each subsequent thrust forced her face deeper into the chair’s cushion, muffling her cries and moans, sounds that mingled with that of his stomach slapping against her dampened flesh aroused Freddie all the more.

Ellie was into it in a big way, and looped her feet around his legs and bore down, shoving her ass back to meet his thrusts. They continued in this fashion until Ellie remembered how wonderful his finger had felt in her as.

Twisting her head to one side, she called out to him, “Freddie, do my ass again … you know, with your finger!”

Freddie had a way to go before he came a second time and so was happy to oblige her. He had never experienced anything like this and didn’t know what was right or wrong. His fingers moved to her rectum and two of them pushed against her tight hole.

“One, Freddie! One finger!” she yelped, feeling the pain from his anal intrusion.

Glancing down, Freddie realized his mistake and pulled away, only to send his middle finger into her as she had asked. This time his finger slipped deep inside and Ellie had to stifle another scream of pleasure. Of course the sudden penetration of his finger hurt some, but the subsequent exhilaration far outweighed the minor discomfort.

“Now fuck me!” she cried out, and he began pounding away at her, his finger finding an accompanying rhythm that revived the swell of Ellie’s orgasm. This was much deeper than the one she had experienced earlier.

“Freddie! I’m coming!”

Freddie doubled his efforts and within seconds her orgasm hit her so hard she was overwhelmed and appeared to blackout. Freddie slowed down but did not stop his thrusting. He did extract his finger from her ass and tendered it to her mouth, and like a baby accepting a mother’s nipple, she took it between her lips and gave suck.

She laid there, her ass sticking up, face buried in the cushion, breathing hard. Freddie stared at her puckered asshole, now partly open, making it as erotic an invitation to an anal fuck as one could imagine. Reasoning that she wanted him in there, having demanded he stick his finger in, he took careful aim, centered his cock on the quivering pucker and sent it into her ass.

“Freddie, stop. It’s hurting me,” she yelled. And to his credit and her surprise, he halted.

Ellie felt sorry for him, he was the john, yet he’d gotten her off and here he was trying to cum and she was denying him. ‘What the hell do I think I’m doing?’

“Fuck my pussy, Freddie,” she cooed in her sexiest voice, “My pussy.”

He was into cunt instantly, fucking her harder than ever. She started to cum on his fourth thrust and clutching his cock with her vaginal muscles, kept coming until after Freddie had emptied his balls into the rubber he had on.

When they had both calmed down and cleaned up. Ellie thought to ask him why he’d gone after her asshole.

“You … you” he stammered, reverting to the shy young man he had been when they first met, “… told me to stick my finger in. I … I thought you wanted it back there. I never… I’d never hurt you, Ellie, it seemed like you wanted it and I….”

“It’s all right, Freddie. I forgive you. I was a bad girl asking you to finger me there. I don’t know why I did it. I never have before. Maybe I’ll let you do me back there someday. But I’ll have to use a lot of lubrication first.”

“You’d let me do you there … after what just happened?”

“Sure, I’m a professional, but I’m new at it.”

It occurred to her that her next trick might want her ass, and she changed her mind, thinking, ‘If it’s going to happen sooner or later, so why shouldn’t he be the one to do it.”

She studied him, an n innocent as far as she was concerned. She decided to let him have her ass if he wanted it.

“Freddie,” she said, “you know, I copped your cherry, so this would only let you return the favor, see?”

She rummaged in her small purse, came out with a tube of KY Jelly and showed it to him. “When your wiener is up to it again, we’ll try it okay?”

“I… I don’t think we’ll have time to do it tonight, Ellie,” he said, and the expression on his face was so forlorn it made her want to cry.

“But, why?”

“I have to get back… I have obligations,” he said, pulling out each word with the greatest reluctance.

“I don’t understand?” Ellie said, caressing his flaccid member, hoping it would revive and prolong their time together.

“Ellie… I’m a priest,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t be with you… I’m committing a grave sin. I’ve taken a vow of chastity and, God forgive me, my being with you, while the happiest time of my life, and is a mortal sin in the eyes of God.”

“You’re a priest?” she gasped.

“But you’re a john… priests don’t walk into the park looking for a blowjob,” she murmured, not fully comprehending the situation.

“I… I knew you girls were in the park. Several men came into the confessional and told me so. It preyed on my mind for months. Then yesterday I found myself walking into the park. I was looking for you.”

“Freddie, I… I only began yesterday. You were my first… really, you were my first customer.”

His brow furrowed, “Strange,” he said, “very strange. I was your first, you say?”

“Please, Freddie, don’t go away!”

“I have to go,” he glanced at his watch. “I’m running late already. I have to say Mass in thirty minutes. Oh, God, how will I manage it?”

She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips as softly as she could manage. “You’ll manage. Think of me while you’re up on the altar.”

“Think of you? Are you crazy? I’d be carrying the host to the parishioners sporting an erection. Everyone would know.”

“No one will know anything, Freddie. Not unless you tell them. You being a priest, won’t they all be looking up to you, and not at you? I mean, you set the example, right?”

“I suppose. But I can’t ever come back to you, Ellie. It’s impossible.”

“You do what’s best, Freddie. If you want me, I’ll be in the park tomorrow at seven. Think about me,” she said, teasing him, but not understanding why she was doing it. Think about my ass, and how inviting it is.”

“Ellie!” he cried and sounded lost and forlorn. “Don’t torment me that way!”

“Okay, then, its goodbye. Freddie, I want you to know that you weren’t just a paying customer to me. I really like you, I mean it. I really, really like you.” She kissed him again, and since he was now fully dressed, shoved him toward the door.

“See ya!” she called after him as he left to return to his parish. She took her time dressing, examining herself in the dresser mirror every step of the way. Imagine that, a priest. Wait ’til I tell Vivian that.

Ellie picked up her purse and got ready to leave, and as she closed the motel door, remembered she had a blowjob to bestow on the desk clerk.

A girl’s work is never done; she thought, imagine that, I fucked a priest … and got paid for it.


Ellie’s mother, Mavis Jones, was at her wit’s end. A week had raced by since her daughter had run off. She had gone to the high school and questioned most of Ellie’s classmates, including Margie on several occasions. She had badgered Margie’s mother into eavesdropping on her daughter to see if Ellie was calling her after hours. None of this had proven beneficial.

The police offered little if any help, telling her there were thousands of runaways and since Ellie was eighteen there was little if anything they could do to force her back if they should find her.

She tried the FBI and received much the same message, only they were more polite. That afternoon, Donny, the boy who had seduced Ellie and induced her into the orgy, knocked on her front door.

“Mrs. Jones,” he had begun, and his eyes were full of concern that Mavis refrained from slamming the door in his face.

He may have heard from her, she thought as she ushered him into the living room. Wringing her hands in front of her, she turned to face Donny and asked, “Have you heard from her? Have you heard anything?”

He looked at her and saw the resemblance to Ellie. It was remarkable. This woman didn’t look old enough to have had a teenager. Remembering why he was there, he grew embarrassed and blushed, then stared at his feet as he replied in a monotone, “No, ma’am, I haven’t heard anything. Um, neither have any of the others.”

On hearing the word “others’ uttered, Mavis flashed back to the scene that had greeted her when the door to Donny’s apartment had opened and she’d stepped inside.

Donny had opened the door in the nude. His semi-erect penis came to mind, and she glanced at his crotch. Donny was becoming excited by her closeness and resemblance to Ellie, who had been perhaps the best fuck of his life.

Ellie’s girlfriend, Margie had just ended a kiss with another woman and if she had seen correctly, and she knew she had, there was sperm trickling from the corner of the teen’s mouth. The two had been swapping the man’s sperm … Mavis thought back to her formative years in high school and the time she had swapped spit with Norman Banks in his backseat, while enjoying her introduction to French kissing. But sperm … it was disgusting!

And that had only been a fleeting glance, for Mavis was searching the seemingly crowded room for Ellie, and had found her lying nude on a couch, a strange man’s penis against her cheek. Mavis knew her daughter had just blown him, for he was not at all hard. She dismissed the sane thought that they had not done it yet, for this was insanity, pure and simple. She had arrived too late to prevent it and felt totally humiliated for her apparent failure as a single parent responsible for Ellie’s safety.

Mavis did not recall screaming out her daughter’s name, nor telling her to get dressed and hustling her out and into her car. What she remembered vividly was Margie’s refusal to leave with her and her own thoughts at the time, that the young girl was doomed to become a whore of the worst sort. But Maggie was back in school, had not been punished for her actions as she had punished Ellie, and it was her daughter who had run off, not Margie.

The image of Margie absorbing that man’s penis into her mouth as she was herding Ellie out the door remained fixed in her mind. Unconsciously she found herself staring at Donny’s crotch as the bulge within his slacks grew larger and larger until a stain appeared and he made an attempt to adjust himself, and caught her staring at him.

“I … I’m sorry,” he stammered, positive she would be on the phone to the police in seconds.

“No … It’s me who should be sorry. I was staring at you. You’re a man, you can’t help yourself.”

“But … I…” he started to say.

“You’re obviously aroused, but why? What did I do to get you that way?”

“How… how can I put it,” Donny said, trying to formulate the right words and not offend Mrs. Jones. “I find you… attractive, of course. You are you know.”

Mavis held up a hand as if to cut him off, but she found herself strangely excited at his compliment. His words as well as the erection she had brought about had made her wet, and she was wondering what exactly she was going to do about it.

Donny’s next sentence settled the matter for her.

“You bear an uncanny resemblance to your daughter,” he said so softly that Mavis had to strain to hear him.


“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to offend you,” he blurted, knowing he had gone too far.

“No, don’t be sorry,” she said almost as quietly as he. “Please, repeat what you just said a moment ago.”

“You… bear a strong resemblance to Ellie.”

“And… you’re attracted to me because of that?”

“I don’t know about that. I do know that I’m attracted to you and only you, right now.”

Looking at his erection pointing at her from within his slacks, she said wryly, “I can certainly see that for myself.”

Donny had not been with many women in his short lifetime, but he knew an invitation when he heard one.

“Shall I take it out and allow it to breath?”

Mavis pondered the invitation for a macro-second, and then answered him. “By all means, all good things should be allowed to age… and to breathe.”

Donny wasted no time, and in a moment, Mavis was staring at his rigid pole, poised and ready to engage her.

They were on each other like animals. “Hold me,” she told him. And when he wrapped his arm around her she moaned, “No, no! Tear my clothes off!”

Instantly he complied, frightening her, delighting her and causing her to wonder what other nasty things they would do with one another.

With her clothing shredded and pooled around them, they lay on the carpeted floor a tangle of arms and legs as they sought to find the right way to culminate their frenzied tryst.

Donny’s hands gripped her wrists, not roughly, but not gently either.

“That’s it,” she husked suggestively. His legs were straddled outside hers. His cock prodded and fumbled to find her opening.

Mavis rocked her hips from side to side, half helping, half not. Then with a guttural grunt, he was in thrusting firmly until he was fully seated.

The friction of his cock as it dragged along her labia and tugged at her clit, made her shudder.

They rolled over and then rolled over again, and now Donny was on top, his legs constraining Mavis’ from the outside, pushing her knees together.

To Mavis, so long without sex, his cock was huge.

“I can’t believe how you fill me,” she gasped, and followed with, “Now fuck me.”

Donny obliged, using short, half-strokes that culminated with a straining, bending thrust.

Mavis’s body twitched, as he brushed over or against her clit with each movement, as she was forced by her position to just lay there, squirming helplessly as he kept her pinned down.

Author’s Notes: This story is erotic fantasy written by Etaski. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. © Etaski 2012


This story continues my first short introduction to characters in “Full Bloom in Winter”. It is not required to have read the first to enjoy this story, but it always adds to the overall depth. :)

Please be warned the main characters are “Lawful Evil” for a reason–mostly in that they do not believe they are doing evil. ;)



“Will it hurt?”

“A little, perhaps. I’ll try to make it quick.”

“Liar. …what if I don’t want you to?”

“Why are you smiling like that, Lady Rousse?”

“Because you are lying. I can tell.”

“You’re growing fangs again.”

“Am I? Hm.”

“I would hazard your Lord Father wishes you to keep your alter form intact while you’re here. For your protection, my Lady.”

“You’re no fun, my dear merchant, do you know that? You have closed the door and have drawn the window curtains, not even my escort can see or hear much.”

There was a pause in the conversation and a sound like a whip lashing in the air, preparing to strike in full.

He cleared his throat. “Your form is…you have that….um….that—”

“It’s a tail, Master Creed. You’ve seen it before, don’t you remember? It was coiled around your throat, as I recall, strong as a constrictor….”

“Please….don’t remind me.”

“I’ll lean back then. You can get on with our business. Do you need me to spread wider?”

“No, that…is enough, Lady Rousse.”

“You have a steady hand, I’m sure. You won’t pierce my nub, right? Only the hood.”

“Of course, Lady.”

“How can you be sure if you can’t see it?”

“I’m sorry, my Lady? I don’t understand.”

“Maybe if you could see it, you would be sure to avoid it with your needle. I want your piercing, Master Creed, I love your work. I want your magic. And the thought of your fashioning that ring just for me, and here we are preparing at last to attach it…makes me tingle inside. But you need to rub the area a little first, don’t you?”

“Well, I do need to clean the area a bit…”

“Good. That’s good. Oo, a delicate touch, Master Creed. Feels nice. But my nub is still hiding…I’m concerned you’ll tag it trying to get my hood….”

“I’m a professional, Lady Rousse.”

“And you want to protect that reputation at all costs, right, Master Creed? Surely you wouldn’t want to distress me, so I would tell all my friends about your crass procedure. Wouldn’t it be so much better to be solidly, absolutely *sure*?”


“Just a taste, Master Creed. It is a…*reasonable* request, isn’t it?”


“*Very* reasonable.”

“Of….course it is, Lady Rousse. Very reasonable.”

“Good. Then suck me. That’s it. Good. Oh….ah….yeah! Go on. Keep going. A little more….Yes. Yes….Oh, such a tongue, Master Creed! Does your wife realize it? Does she reap such benefits? Lucky, lucky woman…Oh….more….if you stop I’ll choke your very breath from you—ah! Ouch. Careful. Did that scare you, Master Creed? Come, now, my favorite tradesman, you still have a job to do. My nub’s not hiding anymore. Look at her. She’s quite delighted to see you! Now…my ring?”


“Don’t shake, Master Creed. Don’t miss. You don’t want to miss. Take a deep breath. That’s good. Good….good…..”

“……h-hold still…….”

“Aaaeeeiiii! OH! Yes!”



Deep breathing.

“Lady, are you alright…?”

“Oh, Master Creed …that was wonderful. Just let me touch it….my, it’s perfect. Shining gold….I love it.”

“Lady, you…are already healed?”

“And ready to use it. Kiss me….”

“Ow!! Your fangs!”

“You’ve got me so excited, Master Creed.”

“No, not the tail again—”

“I won’t kill you.”


“Double the price for your work, then. I have to be sure the ring works before I leave.”


“Double the gold, merchant. Double the gold.”

“Yes, my Lady….”


A lovely young woman left Master Creed’s “Decorative Delights” in high spirits that night. She was human by all appearances, honey-brown hair elegantly coiled and leaf-green eyes twinkling from beneath a warm winter cowl. Her good quality dress, her manners and her grace, and even her white, straight teeth plainly showed a noble-born Lady in the city of Winter Home.

A young blonde man armed with a sword stayed close beside her, clearly a manservant in his simpler dress and his deference to her, walking one half-pace behind her.

After a short time, however, she slowed and took his arm. She giggled, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts. The young man kept watch over the cobbled streets, noting the carriages, groups of workers and couriers, and the many warm lanterns glowing in the glass windows. They were in North Ward, a better part of the city too expensive for most residents of Winter Home to be able to afford, but it didn’t mean there could not still be a threat to his Lady.

“I heard voices, my Mistress,” he said softly. “I thought I’d secured the place before he began?”

“It was only his wife. She suffered only a few moments of confusion before taking my suggestion.”

“Suggestion, Mistress?”

“That she lift her skirts and join us, that she enjoy her husband’s talented tongue since it was free. I was only using his lower half, after all.”

The blonde man’s face flushed a little at the imagery. “The ring works, I take it?”

Her green eyes rolled briefly heavenward, her tongue flicking her bottom lip. “Ohhh, yes, I’d say so. She did not resist long. Her husband took more persuasion prior to the piercing. It is telling of the enhancement and I could feel the warmth and the magic.”

Her companion was quiet for a few steps as the chilled winter’s day wind blew against their backs, nudging their cloaks forward ahead of their boots.

“Are you jealous, Tamton?” she asked, a tiny smirk on her sex-reddened lips.

“No, Mistress,” he answered readily. “You do as you please; I am here to serve you.”

“What were you thinking about, then?”

Tamton licked his lips briefly. “That I was aroused by your description, Mistress. His wife was comely but…rigid. Proper. If your magic worked on her so well, she must have appeared much… different.”

“Squatting over her husband’s face with her skirts bunched up to her waist, with her hair loose down her back, you mean?” Lady Indra teased, her smile showing just that hint of pointed fang as she looked up at him again. “She was rubbing a glistening and decidedly hairy snatch over his nose and mouth.”

Tamton flushed deeper and could not contain a smile as he nodded. “Yes, Mistress. Exactly like that.”

Indra laughed in delight, causing two men in dark long coats to glance back over their shoulder as they passed.

“You draw too much attention, Mistress,” Tamton murmured, keeping the men in his peripheral vision until he saw them enter a high-end tavern.

“I am following the rules.”

“Aye. Your Lord Father knows well about following the rules, my Mistress.”

Indra sighed and rolled her eyes toward the grey sky once again, this time in annoyance. “True to the letter of the law or the spirit of it, but we always follow it. We aren’t like the demon-touched, who can’t manage plotting to lay their dung in the same place twice.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Tamton said with a bit of a laugh. “I’ve witnessed the power of your heritage, and they say your Lord Father has been around for a long time. As such, he is wise in the protection he places around you. Other enemies are not so addle-brained as an Abyssal imp.”

Indra was silent and the smile left her pretty human face for a few moments. Tamton was probably the only servant with which she conversed this way. He had been the first human man—indeed the first real lover—that she had taken during the overwhelming lust of her First Ardeur, when she’d finally come into her adult magic.

She knew the taller man remembered being bound to her desire while under her Father’s watchful eye, and he remembered mounting her quite roughly, first in her hungry sex and then impaling her backside until she was reamed raw. He had been much more selfish in the way he rode her body than he could have done at any other time and expect to continue breathing, much less to continue serving House Rousse. He never mentioned it and, from what she had seen scanning his surface thoughts, he never reminisced about it—not unless she ordered him to and then it made him uncomfortable.

He was loyal and content with his role as her bodyguard and companion. Wherever she went, he would go as well.

For anyone else, she would have considered a creative punishment for even suggesting that she was taking her Father’s advice too lightly. Tamton, however, could sometimes be forgiven of such things.

The diabolic elf still gave him a sardonic grin through her illusion. “If he wanted me not to draw any attention at all, my altered form would be that of a mousey, shorn-haired dumpling tending a hearth.”

She drew her elegantly-gloved hand out to the side, parting her cloak and showing him a glimpse of the entrancing curves beneath her relatively thin, pale blue gown—curves that were not so altered from her true self.

Tamton’s soft brown eyes admired her, as she wanted him to admire her, and he nodded, swallowing against a dry mouth. “I do believe he wants you to…practice your control, my Mistress. And you have my help, should you ever need it.”

She smiled at him then looked ahead, up, and around, her cheeks blushing becomingly in the cold. She arched an eyebrow. “When did Talabrina gain a foothold in North Ward?”

Tamton looked to where she indicated, having to search for several moments before seeing a tiny, wooden carving that might’ve been a symbol of the Light Goddess hanging in the low corner of a top window of a two-story townhouse. That she had seen it at all was a wonder to him.

He shrugged. “Plainly not a church. A gathering place or just a misguided trader?”

“I believe will find out,” she said casually, though her eyes narrowed.

They went to knock on the front door.


Tamton saw the ease with which his Mistress entered the stranger’s house, appearing the well-bred, generous Lady curious to learn more about the symbol of Talabrina. The normal, unassuming man in regular breeches, sweater, and house coat was a courteous host but admitted to nothing, indeed, seemed genuinely confused as to her questions. From that the blonde could see and hear, his Mistress had no reason to suspect him of anything.

Lady Indra, however, had inherited several of her Father’s mental talents, and Tamton knew that she’d seen something in the other man’s mind that made her stay and smile up at the taller man the way she did.

She smiled like a devil scenting the brimstone pen.

“I’ve never seen you before, young lady, or recognize your supposed reference,” the man said, smoothing his plain clothes nervously. “I thank you for drawing my attention to the oddity in my window, but I think perhaps that you should leave. Even if I could tell you more about it, I believe you are misrepresenting yourself; you are not here to find solace in Talabrina’s light.”

An odd choice of words.

“There is very little light in Winter Home, Priest,” Indra replied, smiling sweetly as she traced two fingers slowly along the smooth ribbon of her bodice.

The man’s mouth tightened at the title, but he did not deny it as he was distracted, his blue eyes flicking to the Lady’s hands.

“I wonder that you try here at all,” Indra continued. “They are all lost souls, given over to the Dominion or to Siqueness Herself. Solace can still be found, however…”

The knot at the top had been undone and as she breathed, the criss-crossing thread across her torso loosened and slowly unraveled, showing more of her breasts and the space between them. The Priest could not keep his eyes on her face for long, his middle-aged face flushing deeply.

Tamton wondered that the man still did not deny being ordained. Something she had gleaned from his thoughts, no doubt.

As she breathed harder, staring at him intently, he said hoarsely, “No soul is truly lost, my child. It is always worth trying.”

“If only to know your weaknesses, true, and you are very weak here. I’m sure you’ll come to know them well.” Delicate fingers ran along the edge of her bodice, caressing paler, smooth skin and tugging down gently to reveal more of her breasts, to tease at the possible reveal of a flush nipple.

“You’re staring, Priest. Do you want a taste?”

He forced his eyes up, trembling as sweat started to show on his forehead, and he pursed his thin lips again before wheezing unconvincingly, “I pity you, child.”

Indra chuckled low in her throat, tugging off her gloves and loosening to let her cloak drop from her shoulders to the floor. Tamton felt his sex growing turgid at the sensuous sound of her voice and the shush of her clothing.

Though he couldn’t see them, he could almost imagine her wings stretch themselves after being curled beneath the cloak; her aura was becoming stronger even as her stance grew more threatening. He was a few paces away watching the door and listening for anyone in the back, but he could feel it like waves of warm, sweet water. It must be drowning the Priest…

Indra in her human form drew more of her bodice open, pulling it just off her shoulders and slowly revealing her naked, pink-tipped breasts.

“Have a taste. Just one. You were a babe once; pretend you are young again and suckling your mother’s teat.”

Her voice was soothing and cooed at him constantly until, at last, Tamton watched the salt-and-pepper head dip down, hesitantly at first, but soon enough Indra moaned as his mouth attached to her left nipple and started to suck. Slowly the taller man he sank to his knees, beefy hands going to her waist to hold himself upright as he feasted on her flesh.

“Yes, Priest,” she gasped, “yes….”

Tamton moved through the room to draw a few of the drapes which had been open; they did not need anyone spying so easily, particularly if Indra’s illusion faded at some point in her seduction. He was doing his best to stay on watch with a near-painful erection, but he knew when his Mistresses reached up to undo two oddly-placed buttons just above each of her shoulder blades that she was releasing those entrancing wings that he could not yet see.

Her light blue dress began to slide down and the man tugged at it himself after his Mistress freed her hands from the sleeves. It hung at her waist, where her belt held it for her, revealing no appropriate underclothes at all. No chemise, no shift, no corset. The Priest moaned and started kissing her flat, naked belly, inhaling her scent.

“N-no…” he groaned, gritting his teeth and whispering the name of his goddess as if for strength.

Indra only laughed.

The Priest was well and truly captured when he made the first aggressive act against his Mistress, gripping her arms and forcing her to turn around, pushing her toward a well-crafted mirror hung above a sturdy parlor table.

“Look! Look at yourself!” the Priest demanded, and they both looked at the young woman in the mirror, her entire torso exposed and her nipples hard, red, and wet from his saliva.

“Have you no shame, no modesty? Who taught you to act this way, to open your dress for a perfect stranger? You have more worth than to act like a whore!”

Tamton did not intervene yet though he did draw his blade in case he needed it. Violence only fed the strength of her aura, he knew from personal experience, as the prey’s own strong emotion was used against him. He could see the Priests’s own erection straining against his trousers and brushing his Mistress’s backside.

Indra chuckled softly, smiling sweetly once again over her shoulder. She was of smaller stature than the man, but whatever he saw in her eyes had him rigid with fear for a moment before she turned around and threw her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him, pressing her breasts into him. After a moment of resistance, the mortal fell back into touching her, answering her kiss as if he could never be satisfied.

The Priest pulled up her skirt, showing her bare legs a moment before clutching and squeezing at her thighs and buttocks beneath the material, in spite of his moans of horror and agonized desire.

“No petticoat?” he growled accusingly, “no smallclothes, whore?”

Indra shook her head with a laugh and grabbed his left hand, putting it between her legs. “Just hot, slick flesh, Priest. The reason Men even wish to continue living.”

“Oh, Goddess, help me,” he whimpered, his head lowered, as he kept his hand immersed in the warmth between her thighs—even as she loosened his trousers, pulling them down his hips and leaving them bunched around his thighs as she played happily with his erection.

Next Indra laid herself back against the parlor table, skirts up and pale thighs open and leading to a bright, reddened sex, cleanly shaven and smooth. He saw her brand-new piercing glinting with gold right above her pleasure nub as he removed his wet fingers. The Priest shook his head in confusion, breathing raggedly as his eyes widened, staring at her.

“But you are no child…”

“If you had ever visited a true whore, Priest, you’d know that not all of them keep the hair they grow. And no compliment for my jewelry? A fine gentleman you are.” She laughed sadistically. “Taste me. You’ll find it’s much more pleasant to kiss being so smooth.”

It took a bit more persuading, but Tamton watched his Mistress finally achieve her goal: the man’s head bent down as if in prayer as he inhaled her scent. He wavered before lightly licking at the hood ring, jostling it and making her squeak in delight. Then finally, the Priest’s mouth, once murmuring prayers of self-denial, indulged fully in sucking at the Fey’ri’s naked netherlips, thrusting his tongue full into her tempting hole and playing with the metal piercing by turns.

“Oh, yes, Priest, yes!” she cried, ecstatic.

Her magic flared within the room and Tamton saw her true form start to emerge; the pale, human skin darkened to a true, hot red, and her most sensitive skin—her mouth, nipples, and the lips the Priest now kissed—all turned a darker shade of purple. Claws and fangs grew out, sharp and threatening, and her prehensile tail uncoiled from beneath her, swishing side-to-side excitedly. Her hair turned the color of merlot wine as her eyes filled in entirely with shining yellow, and her very face changed as her eyes became larger and slanted, her ears grew pointed, and her purple, leathery wings stretched full out to the sides, the right one brushing the wall.

Tamton could feel the heat radiating from her; she rarely felt the deep cold of Winter Home when she was indulging herself and feeding her magic.

“Mount me, Priest,” she commanded, her voice smooth and charismatic, the irresistible purr of a very playful angel promising a good time. “I am aching as badly as you, I need you.”

With one last kiss to her sex, he rose up and unsteady legs, bracing his weight on his hands by using the table’s surface by Indra’s hips. He wobbled a little, poking his member at her with little coordination, and she snickered at his confused state before guiding him herself, reaching between them to wedge the soft mushroom head at her pulsing entrance.

“Push,” she whispered, her voice lingering in the air.

He did, groaning loudly as he sank into her to the hilt, and he immediately began pumping her greedily, stroking her hot body inside and out.

Tamton noted the moment when the Priest truly saw Indra’s form, when his eyes widened and swept over the changes, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. But he kept thrusting into her, humping like the animal he was; he didn’t stop. His Mistress had him enthralled; they coupled for a good long while, the wet squelch of him plowing her sex torturing him more and more.

Indra forced him to pause midway through so that she could strip the rest of the way, until she was wearing only her boots, and as she lay back again, spreading wide with her tail looping around one of his thighs, she giggled.

“Sample my other temptation, Priest,” she said, “it’s even tighter.”

“F-filthy,” he said with gritted teeth, but pushed obediently once Indra had reset his cock’s head at her deep purple pucker instead of her pussy.

Her ring began to yield immediately and he gasped, looking up and staring at himself for a moment in the mirror. He faltered, clearly able to see his prick impaling her, preparing to sodomize the diabolic creature, and he made a sound of wordless protest. Indra grabbed hold of his hips and pulled him to her, forcing the rest of his erection into her asshole. She next grabbed his hair and forced him to look down at her eyes.

“Fuck me,” she hissed, her own teeth gritted as well, her fangs on full display.

“Un-unclean,” he whispered.

“Fuck my ‘unclean’ hole or I’ll have you pull out and tongue it first.”

The flex of the Priest’s hips were slow at first, but as he fell again into her Ardeur, he increased his tempo to fuck her back portal properly. She cried out in pleasure, her wings flapping once as her tail slapped at him several times.

“Yes! Yes!”

Tamton was hunched over and having to stroke his manhood to relieve some of the ache, but he continued on his watch, trying to listen above the noise. He should mention to Lord Indrath that she needed to learn a sound-dampening invocation so others on the street couldn’t hear this…

“Feel me cum, Priest,” she gasped, clawed hands reaching to scrape down his arms as she leaned her head back and shrieked in pleasure.

At that moment, the Priest cursed and his body jolted once and continued jerking as he spurted his seed deep into his Mistress. He barked in short gasps, pressing himself farther inside and letting her milk every drop from him.

They were still a moment, the magic slowly, very slowly dissipating, but the human man crumpled to the floor as soon as his dick shriveled and fell out of the Fey’ri’s anus. He lay gasping desperately for breath, shaking and barely conscious, his pants down and his crotch and thighs soaked and stained.

Indra got up quite calmly and, with a satisfied sigh, approached Tamton, her hips and wings swaying, her tail flicking playfully.

“You heard no one?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t believe so. He lives alone and no visitors came. We were lucky.”

“Then relieve yourself in me, Tamton,” she commanded, leaning against the wall, her wings flattened and her legs open. “I’ll be the one to listen this time.”

After a moment’s hesitation as he considered her safety, the blonde man succumbed to her order and quickly undid his breeches, pushing them down to his thighs. He leaned down and kissed her hot shoulder gently, pressing stomach-to-stomach with her as he gently touched her hips and her waist. She cooed softly and, while he could still feel her familiar aura, she was not using it against him; he was acting of his own will.

Finally he lifted one of her thighs up so he could fit himself snugly into the heat of her sex. It was incredible…he could imagine nothing better than the feel of her body around him. After a few thrusts, she allowed him to lift her up, her buttocks in his hands and her legs around his waist, and he fucked her swollen, sopping channel with utter pleasure.

This would be quick, he knew, with her magic already humming around them and very limited time before the Priest became self-aware again, but he gratefully accepted her gift now, thrusting steadily toward his release. He would cum in her pussy this time.

She was a good Mistress, and he loved her. For her Father, he would protect her until his last breath.


“Did you accomplish your task, my dear?”

“Yes, Father, I did. Beyond what I expected!”

“Well, then. May I admire Master Creed’s work, daughter?”

Indra felt a very deep thrill in having him ask that, enough that she failed to think of a reply beyond a nod before concentrating intently on lifting her skirt. She bunched and tucked the lavender silk in one hand at her waist, smoothing more cloth out of the way before stroking her bald, red mound automatically and affectionately.

After a second, she recalled her purpose and used her first two fingers to gently part her puffy, well-used lips, only recently cleaned. The fold of skin protecting her most sensitive spot had been pierced and a small, gold hoop threaded through it as a tiny, decorative ball on the hoop itself rested just above her clitoris.

She looked up through her lashes as she gave him ample time to study her new decoration, seeing his warm expression and feeling his approval.

“Lovely,” he said. “I take it Master Creed continues to please?”

She chuckled softly and nodded. “Yes, Father. He was kind enough to be my first test, him and his wife.”

Lord Indrath’s dark eyebrows rose up curiously. “Oh?”

Indra nodded, taking the invitation to continue. “I felt the same resistance as my first visit for the commission, but was able to overcome it. I felt more power at my disposal and this time not only the husband succumbed. She did as well. She actually took down her hair.”

“Goodwife Creed is a stubborn one, I’ll grant you,” Indrath smiled at his daughter with genuine mirth. “She must have been an arresting sight.”

“Oh, she was. Probably the first time she gifted her husband with tasting *all* of her.”

Lord Indrath laughed out loud at that one, the memory offered at the fore of her mind completing the picture for him. “In time they will stop resisting so much, so long as what they recall is pleasure and reward.”

Indra nodded. “Yes, Father.”

“You were gone for quite some time,” he continued, his tone turning softer. “What delayed your return?”

“Well,” the devil-touched fey began, trying to humble her pride and excitement in the retelling. “I found a Priest of Talabrina in the North Ward. A subtle sign in a corner of a window, and as soon as I spoke with him, I heard the ritual prayer of protection in his mind.”

“A Priest…” Lord Indrath looked thoughtful, his face on of arresting and otherworldly beauty, even when he frowned. “What did you decide to do, daughter of mine?”

“Seduce him,” she replied proudly. “I would not have been able to dominate his will before, but I’ve grown stronger, and the ring helped as well. He didn’t want to but he pleasured both my holes.”

“I see.”

Indra could tell her father wasn’t on the verge of laughter as she was, imagining a holy man trapped so completely in her Ardeur, and that kept her from blurting out the happy sound of delight that had welled in her chest. She blinked at him. “Father? Did I do wrong?”

A small smile came to the Fey Lord’s sensuous and he shook his head once. “You merely followed your true nature, I cannot fault you for that. Tell me what happened once you broke him.”

It looked as first as though she wasn’t sure what to say; she had been better prepared to describe the seduction and domination of wills, not the subsequent deeds.

“Well…Tamton needed relief. First I saw to that.”

Indrath tilted his head at her. “In the Priest’s house, still?”

Indra nodded, sensing that hadn’t been the best answer either.

“He is your protector, Indra. Perhaps it is not such a good notion to distract him?”

“I watched for us until he finished,” she answered. “We traded watch. It didn’t take long.”

Lord Indrath chuckled, crossing his arms across his bare, dusky-red chest. “I hadn’t realized you were his protector as well.”

Indra felt her cheeks go warmer than usual but set her jaw. What, was she to ask Tamton to expose his organ outside in the whipping wind instead of a warm house?

“He could hardly walk upright, Daddy,” she tried a bit of tease in her tone but it had no effect.

“And after?” Lord Indrath asked firmly, expecting a prompt answer. “Did the Priest become aware of himself before you left?”

“Yes, Father,” she answered, letting her smile fall. “And I told him I wanted him to leave Winter Home as soon as possible, that he wasn’t welcome here. Then we left.”

Lord Indrath nodded slowly, his face neutral for the moment but again, she could sense that he wasn’t pleased with the answer.

“And you didn’t think of have him name any of his followers? Or try to glean them from his mind?”

Immediately Indra could see what her father had been getting at and her yellow eyes widened as her expression changed rapidly from a stubborn pout to open shock to embarrassed self-censure.

“No, Father. I didn’t think of that.” She looked down toward the fine carpet covering the well-dressed stone and nibbled her bottom lip carefully. “I…was focused entirely on him. His will was strong enough, he could have broken the bond. And he fought me…I was having so much fun, and I won at last… I wanted to leave and tell you as soon as possible…”

She trailed off and Lord Indrath let her stand in silence for several long moments. Her tail twitched back and forth nervously and she didn’t make eye contact with him. Finally when the quiet had become uncomfortable, he stepped forward quietly, the whole of his legs and tail and anything else from the waist down hidden by the long, heavy leather sarong that he wore. He embraced his daughter, and she was tense at first, until he spoke.

“An oversight I’d like minimized, my treasure,” he breathed quietly into her hair.

“…Do you wish me to return and try to find out for you?” she asked hesitantly, and his hand stroked her hair.

“No, no,” he replied with a chuckle. “That ship has sailed. I will make inquiries.”

She nodded, leaning into his embrace and seeking his warmth and comfort. “I’m sorry, Father, I failed you.”

“No, Indra, you put yourself at greater risk. That is what concerns me. Consider the risk and the reward, which outweighs the other here?”

“I-I understand,” she murmured, her previous high completely subjugated to the embarrassment she felt now. “My reward was short-term, and I did not think to look at the bigger painting.”

“Exactly,” he breathed, sounding more pleased. He straightened and leaned back to look at her face. “If you are going to challenge other faiths in Winter Home, it is advisable to gain new names from every contact. Otherwise it is a dead end. This time, you do not know exactly who you may have made as an enemy in corrupting their Priest.”

“I understand, Father,” she said again. “I’ll do better next time.”

The Fey Lord grinned widely before planting a soft kiss on her forehead and stepping away. “Of course, you will, my daughter. Meantime, stay out of North Ward for a few days at least. I want to see what ripples you’ve caused, if any, among the affluent.”

Indra fidgeted with one claw as she thought about that. “I will, but… I don’t want to stay in the manor all that time. Father, I…Is there another Ward I may explore?”

He watched her patiently, seeming to weigh her request, and finally nodded. “With additional escort, yes.”

Indrath turned from her but made a gesture for her to follow him. He directed her to stand next to him facing one of his tapestries on the wall—an elegant scene of maidens and young men languishing around a pool and surrounded in white columns out of doors. It looked exotic, and from the scant clothing and vegetation, Indra had always been able to figure it was of one of the South Lands where the snow and ice didn’t keep such a tight hold for much of the year. It wasn’t as if she had never seen green, though, only that it was for the brief season of summer each year.

With a whisper, Indrath dragged his own claws across the breasts of one nubile model and the tapestry changed from a foreign, erotic scene to a much more mundane and straightforward map of Winter Home. His daughter could read the names of North Ward, Sea Ward, Trade Ward, South Ward, and Castle Ward.

“I must forbid South Ward to you until you’ve shown greater awareness, my treasure,” Indrath said. “The poorest and most desperate reside there, and there also grows most of the darkest hearts. You are not ready.”

The young Fey’ri remained quiet and did not challenge that. Her yellow eyes first found her own home on the map—within a stretch of land right on the border between Castle Ward and North Ward—then she traced the boundaries of the various Wards, finding South Ward quite far down from her.

Of the times she’d come down from the high rise on which the manor had been built and actually left the grounds of House Rousse in the last eighty years of her life, it had only been to North Ward so far, with upscale merchants and the better class homes. Some of her tutors had even come from North Ward, and for a long while, few outside of the Manor had ever seen Lord Indrath’s daughter—indeed, even knew that he had one!

Her contentment and sense of security remained intact for decades and kept her from being too curious while a carefree child. The maturity of her body and her magic at the same time, however, was having the same effect as if she were trying to spread her wings inside a box: she strained to get out, to see more…to fly. Literally. Thus far she had only been able to use her wings in her Father’s atrium; he did not want her flying out over the city in the open air and the wind.

That there was a clear and extreme opposite to North Ward in Winter Home did not surprise her, at least in theory, but she could not imagine what it might look like, what darkness might be there that her father would forbid her going there for the time being.

Indrath continued as his claw trailed over the map. “You know of Castle Ward and the Registry, of course, you can see them from the south view. Offices and archives. Exceedingly boring unless you have a taste for clerks, but even then, I’d not recommend it.

“The Sea Ward is largely docks and warehouses, with a few inns catering to the seamen. Not my first choice for entertainment and a rougher element than you’ve seen, my dear, but not without its charm. I’d more likely recommend the Trade Ward for you. It holds many delights and there is challenge amongst their business activity that may interest you. Imagine North Ward but with a much greater variety of residents and professions, with much more energy put into their work because it is necessary they do so.”

Indra nodded, noting Sea Ward on the eastern coast and Trade Ward right to the north of it, and Castle Ward somewhat in the center of Winter Home. South Ward was technically to the south, yes, but actually extended more to the west as well, farthest from the denser clusters of business and shipping. Walls separated North and Castle Ward from the others, and distance and practicality did the rest.

“What is farther to the west?” Indra pointed at South Ward and the way its boundary was not as clearly defined.

“The land of the Nordland barbarian tribes, before you enter the mountains leading to Ice Heart,” Indrath answered. “The city walls are not as well-maintained to the west and occasionally the barbarians will raid South Ward. Or trade with them. Depending on how their hunting has gone in the past season.”

Indra nodded. “I’ve never seen a barbarian.”

“You may soon, my precious,” Indrath sounded amused. “In Trade Ward, you may. Look for the human men and women wearing animal furs with the teeth and claws still attached.”

His daughter gave him an odd look.

“Come, now, you have trophies, do you not?” he asked her with a laugh. “You kept something of Goodwife Creed’s, I’ll wager.”

Indra felt herself flush hot. “Um…”

“What was it?” her father asked, eyes twinkling.

“The satin ribbon that held her smallclothes to her waist,” she admitted.

“And the Priest?” His tone grew even more teasing.

Now her face was positively burning. “The sterling ring on his pinky finger.”

“There. You understand a barbarian’s need to mark their victories. Do not be intimidated by them, Indra. Like hounds, they can smell fear. Trade Ward favors the bold, though not those who look to pick a fight. It hurts business. If there is one thing to remember about the merchants, it is that they think of the effects on their business first, then they worry about their own skins.”

Indra nodded. “I understand, Father.”

“Perhaps not completely, but you will. With time and practice, like any of our family.”


The third day after her return from North Ward saw the cloud layers parting somewhat, a portion of the blue sky visible as golden sunlight streamed through to light up the brisk and very cold air as the streets of Winter Home lightened several shades out of grey. It was only now edging into spring though any growth or warmth a few weeks off, but for once it was not snowing. Not a speckling or flurry.

Indra opted to go out that very day, Tamton at her side as always but also with the additional escort her father required: in this case, a mute, brunette, dark-eyed and pale-skinned guard named William, with whom Tamton sparred regularly. He was somewhat older but still healthy and was one of the better martial trainers despite having no voice. William was the epitome of “show, don’t tell.”

She knew the two men fought well together and if there came a need, they’d watch each other’s backs along with hers. Strength in numbers, as long as those numbers were loyal.

Instead of taking a coach from the stables, Indra also opted for a paid coach. She had sent a request earlier that morning via courier to schedule one, and she made the effort to meet it at the crossroads of Rousse Gate at the base of their rise and the edge of their estate. She walked some distance outside through a very hilly area sprinkled with bare trees and mounds of old leaves, cold streams, and some of the better housing with land.

Like before, she was going out with her altered form, appearing a well-to-do young human woman with green eyes and honey-brown hair who seemingly didn’t mind getting her boots muddied, accompanied by two reasonably handsome, human bodyguards. The assumption of affiliation with House Rousse would be obvious to the driver—no other family lived around here—but she did not have to make it seem as though she was the Lady of the House.

She could afford to be more discrete and try to be more patient, like her Lord Father, though truly, Indra looked forward to exploring Trade Ward and seeing the variety there. The majority of the city contained humans of many colors, as that race seemed to breed the fastest, but there were plenty of other bipedal races as well; dwarves, half-orcs, felids, half-elves and a few actual elves.

Of any race, Indra as a Fey’ri had more in common with the elves—she had been told she was of their blood, after all, even though she had no memory of a mother, elf or otherwise. Her diabolic heritage through her father, however, stood out far too much for them to ever trust her as one of the Queen’s people, and that was just as well.

It had always been only her sire and her. He adored her, and she could not imagine being more loyal to some unknown “Queen of her People” than Indra was to her Lord Father. This was more than enough.

“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked.

“The Trade Ward.”

“Yeah? Where in?”

“Just drive around, I’ll know it when I see it.”

At his expression, Indra relaxed her normal mental guards and probed his immediate thoughts, hearing an internal moan and, *I’m getting too old for this,* flitting across the fore of his mind.

She shrugged mentally. At least it hadn’t been something uncharitable about her.

She reached up to open her gloved hand, and flat in the palm was a gold piece, easily three times the rate for simply taking her into town. “I’ll give you another upon stopping if you give me a nice tour beforehand.”

The driver’s thoughts became sunnier as he took the coin, rather like the light peeking through the grey clouds, and he nodded, tightening down his warmest clothing and waiting until the three of them had climbed aboard. Then he snapped the reins and nudging his pair of shaggy, cold-weather horses forward.

It took some time to get out of the mix of trees and better homes in the northern part of the city and into the tighter clusters of population. It was farther still before the twists of cobbled roads lined with simpler one- and two-story cottages packed cheek and jowl together gave way to grander buildings, inns, taverns, and shops.

“Trade Ward,” the driver called out over the noise of the carriage and the people moving about their late-morning business. “If you can think of it, you can buy it here. Wine, the company of women and men, games of chance, song, stories, and dance. Home to all manner of taverns are festhalls, inns, guildhalls, merchants and a fair decent place to settle down in if you’re looking for such a home and don’t mind a little noise. Most of the city’s guilds are quartered in this ward, and if you ever want to do business, you should check with them first.”

Indra was looking out windows on both sides, drinking in the details as she alternated leaning over Tamton’s and William’s laps in turn. She grinned and winked at Tamton at the mention that “company” could be purchased, but thought the rest of the man’s spiel sounded practiced. Whether it applied to her directly or not, the driver had said this before.

She knew she wanted to stop at a tavern and watch some of the entertainment he claimed, as well as just watch the other patrons, but they were moving by quickly enough and there were enough of them that Indra had trouble deciding.

“Do you recommend a particular tavern for newcomers?” she asked, leaning somewhat out her window to call up to him, and he nodded to show he’d heard her.

“If you don’t mind me suggesting,” he answered, “you could do far, far worse than the Orc’s Bane Inn. Food’s good, security’s better, the beds are warm and the dwarf who runs it caters to those who are new to town as well as those who’ve been ‘just passing through’ for the last few years.”

Again, his speech sounded very practiced, and as she focused again on him, Indra could pick up additional thoughts of coin on top of hers. The man was paid a commission to recommend the Orc’s Bane to his travelers…except perhaps to those with orc blood, she was guessing.

*Hm.* She wasn’t sure what to think about that. “Tell me about the proprietor.”

“Glain’s a retired adventurer, struck it rich in the caves of Ice Heart,” the driver said. “Got a few good stories and always has decent entertainment. He doesn’t water down his drinks, makes and drinks his own ales, and the location’s also good. Got a Registry office not two buildings down, and all manner of ways to spend your money in the area.”

Still she kept listening in on his thoughts, and she could determine at least that he believed what he was saying. He wasn’t knowingly lying, and he even liked Glain. Or at least respected him.

So the security was better than the food, even, and the dwarf made—more importantly—drank his own ales… She had to admit those were two qualities in favor of the place. And if one establishment was as good as another at this point…why not?

“Very well, please drop us off at the Orc’s Bane, but take the long way around. I’d like more of a tour first.”

“Yes, Miss,” he said, sounding pleased.

Indra paid him the additional gold coin she’d promised when they arrived at the intended inn a good two hours later. It was just in time for lunch and her stomach was growling—as no doubt were the men’s.

“If ye’d be so kind as to tell Master Glain that Master Smithee says hello, I’d be obliged,” their driver said.

With a narrowing of her eyes, Indra picked-up his other method if she didn’t mention him at all. He would be by later after his shift and hand detailed descriptions of “guests” that he’d dropped off that day to Glain. Indra figured if that worked for the dwarf and he paid out, then the proprietor likely was one of the more lawful ones, following through on his agreements.

“Certainly, Master Smithee,” she said with a lovely smile. “I’ll do so. Thank you for the tour.”

The trio entered quickly so as to get out of the wind which had picked up, and they walked over rough hardwood floors to enter a grand common room.

The inside of the Orc’s Bane was astonishingly warm with the very large fire within the stone hearth in the center of the room. A dwarven-made smoke-catch collected and funneled all the smoke up through a metal pipe and out through the high roof while leaving the heat to radiate out on all sides. To their right was a large bar as well as a place to check cloaks and coats. The far wall contained a small stage, and the remaining floor space was filled with sturdy, wooden tables and chairs of mostly uniform sizes. Stairs led up to a second floor and what she was assuming were the “warm beds” that were offered. She would not be surprised if that huge hearth somehow heated some of the upper rooms as well.

The most startling thing for Indra, however, was the enormous and seemingly random collection of weapons decorating the walls and even the ceiling. All kinds were present: one- and two-handed swords and axes, daggers, flintlocks, fencing blades, barbed wire, wooden staffs, hand-held scythes, even a pitchfork or two…

The most curious thing about it all was that nothing seemed to be holding the weapons to the wall; not one sword was supported by any physical frame or tie or hook.

Indra spared a moment to listen to her other senses and nodded to herself; there was magic in this place.

Tamton had been standing in front of her with William guarding her back, and she’d been staring when a gruff voice called out to them.

“Well? Ye gonna pick a seat or no?”

The healthy handful of patrons already sitting at tables looked up from their food or their ponderings to glance at them, maybe smirk, but otherwise had little reaction. Indra knew that would not have been the case without her illusion; at this tavern, she only saw humans and dwarves so far.

Indra walked out from behind Tamton and started leading them toward the bar and the elderly, grisly-bearded dwarf who’d yelled across the inn at them. Now more of the patrons took notice—seeing her dress, her gait, and the fact that both men followed her—and stared a little harder. Indra picked up a smattering of thoughts among them.

*Rich girl. What’s she doing here?*

*Lovely lady. I’m glad she has protectors.*

*Damn, there goes the quiet. Should be men-only in here…*

*Like tah aim right fer those tits…*

She passed through them and approached the bar. The dwarf behind it had been a fiery red-head in his youth, though now it was streaked through with grey, his beard well-groomed with a few braids in place. The mixed coloring did nothing to diminish the powerful personality staring at her through steel blue eyes, however. His hair had been cut into a two-pronged mohawk, his head shaved bald on either side above his ears, and her eyes quickly noted the blue-ink runic tattoos: one on the left side of his scalp and several more hinted at beneath his leather shirt, probably covering his enormously muscled shoulders and arms, if not more.

She also saw a scar running down almost vertical across his left eye, from forehead to cheek, and had the feeling that this dwarf could still toss even orcs out of his tavern with his bare hands, despite his age— which was hard to determine even with the grey.

She smiled. “Master Glain?”

“Aye, so I’m told. An’ ye, young lady?”

“Miss Bennett. These are my escorts. One Master Smithee recommended your establishment.”

Glain grunted with a half-smile, his eyes glancing at her men and taking their measure in an instant. He more or less dismissed them. “Smithee always did have it in for me. So whatter ye here for? Food? Bed?”

“Both, and do you have any entertainment today?” She gestured at the currently empty stage.

“Aye. Shane Bahgell, a traveling storyteller. Be here in another two hours, takes requests sometimes. Ingrid Kahlner, a fine wood piper, on after. Also a new veil dancer later on this eve, half-elf, probably more to the liking of yer companions, though.”

“Mmm,” Indra smiled at the dwarf, her gaze warming. “No, I think I’d like that as much as them. Her name?”

“Calls herself Chantel.” He quirked a shaggy eyebrow at her. “An’ it’s dance only, no stark reveal, if you get my meaning. So, two rooms?”

Indra shook her head. “One.”

“Oh-kay,” the dwarf drawled. “We don’t do guards outside doors. They get bored and cause raucous with the passersby, ‘specially the drunk ones.”

“Not to worry. They’ll guard the inside of the door.”

Glain smirked. “As ye wish, then. Six meals? Or nine, includin’ breakfast?”

Indra smiled slowly. “Nine.”

Glain nodded, reaching for a quill and flipping open a stained, leather-bound ledger. He scribbled something before giving her a sum, asking for payment in advance. “Ye can always come down for extra, just have a few copper on ye.”

She nodded and paid his sum. Then the dwarf looked back up at her, staring hard at her.

“Ye saw the weapons on the walls, right?”

The Fey’ri nodded. “Yes, I was wondering about those. There are no hooks or braces holding them up.”

“There’s a reason fer that.” Glain brushed his beard with one hand. “This is neutral territory. I dinnae tolerate fights or plots in my place, troublemakers can take their diff’rences into the snow, an’ anyone only draws their weapon once.” The dwarf held up his stubby index finger for emphasis, holding it in front of her face. “Once. Then they dinnae get them back.”

Indra looked around her again at the array of weapons, probably a good two hundred of them, if she counted all the tiny steak knives. “How long have you been running your place?”

The dwarf smiled almost as slowly as she had earlier. “The Orc’s Bane has been here for hundreds o’ years, Miss. The weapons bein’ part o’ the wall forever has been a good deterrent, as well as the source o’ some damn good stories. Only the occasional idiot draws a weapon here.”

Indra had to agree with the driver; the security was indeed good. “What about fistfights?”

“Ain’t lethal, but still getcha tossed to the snow.”

The Fey’ri thought about it some more. “What about the walls in the rooms?”

Glain frowned and didn’t answer for a beat. Then he leaned forward slightly. “Ye get to draw once in this inn, an’ it catches. All. Weapons.”

Indra somehow thought that an unclear answer—he was trying hard to intimidate her— but she wasn’t going to argue. She was just curious.

“Had enough answers, then, Miss Bennett?” Glain asked, and she nodded.

“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll enjoy my day, and my evening. And your stew.” She pointed toward another patron at the bar. “I’ll have what he’s having.”


The Lady of House Rousse wore out her bodyguards as she traipsed about Trade Ward that day, visiting merchant after merchant and seeing many of the same wares that ended up at House Rousse, but now it was in person, within their own establishments. She could smell unique spices and scents of industry even in the cold air as she passed by doors briefly opened by an entering or exiting patron.

Fortunately for her guards, she bought only a few small items, things easily carried in a pouch or pocket: a bloodstone, ornate silver pin, a bag of red sand from the South Lands, several bags of herbs, a simple gold pinky ring, two small red candles, and pure salt sealed in a hand-sized cedar box. She also indulged herself in purchasing a new pendant of deep garnet and gold to wear around her neck; it happily rested just above her cleavage.

By the time they returned early in the evening, the storyteller was already gone and the pipist had been playing for a while at the Orc’s Bane Inn. The common room was more crowded as people sat to eat, drink, and listen. Occasionally they’d toss a coin the entertainer’s way or shout a request or a comment. It was not so much rowdy in the place, she didn’t think, just lively.

She moved through the tavern with Tamton and William still following, walking around the edge to block fewer views, although there were more casual thoughts like those from before as eyes trailed her. She went directly upstairs to her room and asked the men to set down her things and lock the door.

She felt so excited; her body felt tight and hot. Five times she’d sensed a pair coupling in some furtive place as she’d shopped; twice in the room above the shop, once in a closet vulnerable to discovery, another quickie in an alleyway and once in a passing coach.

Indra couldn’t help but recognize the energy on which her magic was based; she was very sensitive to those mental spikes in pleasure. It had been a sort of agony not being able to step in and begin manipulating that pleasure…

She took off her cloak, hung it, and started tugging at the laces of her bodice. “Tamton, help me.”

Her blonde companion heard her unspoken order and moved forward, going down on one knee so his head was near her backside. He reached beneath her skirts to slide his hands up to her hips. She was wearing smallclothes today, originally to try to help with tempting opportunities, but now she wanted them off. Immediately.

He unlaced the ribbon at her hips and gently tugged her underclothing down her legs, reaching again to pull at the closer satin slip, pooling them both at her ankles and helping her step out of them, one boot at a time. He took a moment to smell her scent on the smallclothes before setting them aside.

“William,” she beckoned the older brunette after fully opening her bodice to expose her human-looking breasts, her new garnet hanging between them. She may have worn the smallclothes beneath her skirt but definitely hadn’t gone for the much more restraining chemise or corset.

The second guard actually hesitated as Tamton’s head disappeared beneath her dress and the young man started touching and kissing his Mistress’s tender parts with practiced familiarity. She sighed and gestured for William again and he heard her mental command.

*Suck on them. Kiss them. Squeeze them.*

*I am…on guard, my Lady.*

*We are safe here, no one knows who I am, I’ve been discrete.*

William shook his head once. *A merchant could have had an object to see through your illusion, my Lady. We could have been followed. All the items you bought today are for magical rituals. If I know that, then who else—?*

Indra’s eyes flashed with impatience and anger, even as Tamton’s fingers moved wetly between her legs. *They were each purchased separately and you only know that because you live with us! Also, Glain’s inn is neutral ground anyway. Now do as I command, William.*

At last her second escort came forward, bending his head to start suckling at her breasts. She reached to cup his male package as well, stroking and coaxing through his breeches for a response. It was slower than with Tamton—he’d been conditioned to become erect almost as soon as he realized his Mistress wanted sex—but inevitable as he kept exploring her pale, naked skin and submitting to her exploration.

No sort of mounting had yet occurred, nor were any of them even close to climaxing, when there was a polite but firm knock on her door. Glain’s voice came through.

“Miss Bennett, as ye seemed interested, Chantel’ll be dancing on stage in ten minutes, if ye’d like to grab a seat.”

Indra hesitated, thinking at first that she’d already missed two of the three entertainers tonight, what was one more in favor of getting release….?

Although… her aura was absolutely humming right now, and as long as her two escorts also remained frustrated it would only extend her area of influence. She began to get a truly wicked idea as she wondered what effect this might have on the performance of a veil dancer…?

It was her first opportunity to see firsthand whether she could do herself what she’d seen her Father do before, whether her magic and her control had the potential to match his in time. She’d once witnessed a performer do some truly creative things to herself in public for her audience… Lord Indrath had only purred that low chuckle, yet she knew it had been him. His influence somehow.

Indra shuddered and firmly pushed William back from her, giving Tamton the mental command to stop fingering her and get out from under her skirts.

“Master Glain…thank you,” she said with a soft gasp. “I’d have slept right through it! I’ll be right down.”

She listened to the dwarf walk away as she began re-fastening her bodice.

“Do you want your smallclothes, Mistress?” Tamton asked huskily, his voice strained although she knew he would not complain about the delay.

She laughed and shook her head. “No. Let us go downstairs. But first don your cloaks. You both need the added concealment.”


The audience hadn’t moved much since she’d last seen it, though she noticed a tighter cluster around an extra stage extension that had been placed front and center, allowing viewers to see the dancer from three sides instead of all eyes only from the front.

It only took a mental trick to gain seats closest to the stage on the left side; curiously, three of the men had an urgent need to visit the privy and had to abandon their seats shortly before “Miss Bennett” and her escorts chose to sit in their warm seats.

Indra could feel her nipples straining against her bodice, tight and sensitive against the fabric, and her sex was still moist and hot and fragrant beneath her dress. More than a few of the men noticed her, looked at her without truly understanding why; she was seated between her escorts but those closest to her still seemed to drawn in the air through their nose as if enjoying a garden in full bloom.

She needed time to make herself sit still, to try to focus the sensations and scents and very naughty thoughts rampaging through her mind. She succeeded for the most part, waiting on a blade’s edge of excitement for the show to begin.

Chantel finally appeared to a slow, sensuous note played by Ingrid the wood piper, joined immediately by a brown-skinned man tapping a drum with his palms. She stepped out from behind the curtain on silent, delicate, feet, wrapped in bright red satin slippers. Her long legs her toned and smooth, the cinnamon color of her skin masked by the brightly colored veils that shimmered about her body from her waist. Her flat belly was exposed, however, as were her long, graceful arms, a half-length, sleeveless bodice cupping lovingly to her curves and pushing up her breasts.

The colors of her costume seemed to change between orange and red and yellow, her long, ebony curls down her back following as a shadow follows a flame. Her face was partially covered with a matching veil that draped across her fine nose to cover her full mouth, but her eyes were exotic, tilted further upward, large and deep black like a well. Only when Indra saw the slightly-pointed shape of the woman’s ears did she recall Glain saying that she was half-elf, half-human.

The performer began her dance, encouraging applause as she shimmied and undulated her hips, her arms completing poses and helping her maintain her balance for some of the more difficult positions.

*Ohh, she’s beautiful, isn’t she, Tamton?* Indra thought, genuinely impressed and thrilled with the sensuality of the woman. She had also never seen a human this color, much less one of elf-blood, and the style of dance was unknown to her.

Tamton shifted, physically uncomfortable, but answered her. *Yes, Mistress.*

*Would you want to see more of her?*

She sensed a chagrinned smirk coming from him. *Of course, Mistress. That is the purpose of the tease, isn’t it?*

*Oh, my, yes. And so do I…*

Indra’s breathing had deepened along with that of Chantel, along with other members of the audience. She only had to be patient and wait; sooner or later, their eyes would be drawn together…

Chantel made several passes back and forth in front of her viewers, moving to the wood pipe’s music and the heartbeat mimic of the drum. Finally, her deep eyes did make contact with the Fey’ri’s intense green ones. The dancer hesitated for a split-second, hardly noticeable to her audience, but her face seemed to darken as she flushed hotter in her cheeks as she kept dancing directly in front of “Miss Bennett” and her men for a time.


Indra kept her connection open, letting her lust pour through it as it strengthened her aura. The music seemed to speed up just a little, not much but enough to match Chantel’s more bold moves as she shifted from teasingly sensual to overtly erotic.

Her cinnamon hands stopped making so many gestures and signs above her head and instead moved in to caress her own curves, tracing her waist and her hips, moving up to cup her breasts, give them a gentle squeeze, before letting go. The audience at the Orc’s Bane all the way to the back sat up straighter in their seats, leaning forward as they wondered what else the exotic dancer might do…

Indra was breathing deeply in her seat as if she was the one physically exerting herself, and Tamton reached to touch her hand.

*Mistress? Are you alright?*

*Keep watching her, Tamton. I want her.*

Chantel’s glorious eyes seemed to hazy, glistening and half-closed as she spread her legs more and thrust out her shimmering buttocks toward the audience with a soft moan, against brushing her hands over her breasts and her belly, reaching down…just a little farther down…

The dancer jerked her hand away and her eyes widened as she stared at nothing for a moment, as if she was not quite aware of where she was anymore or what she was doing. Tamton and William both had to subtly stroke themselves—as other men in the audience were doing—trying to find some momentary relief, and Indra made a more obvious movement to stroke her sex through her skirt.

Chantel’s eyes fluttered until they were half-closed again and she continued dancing. It seemed she could almost hear those male thoughts that kept echoing and re-echoing in the room…

*Take it off…*

*Show us…*

*Show us your treasures…*

*Take it all off…*

Her costume was not designed for any sort of slow reveal, but Chantel reached to her waist and jerked at one of the delicate, shimmering strips covering her legs. She tore it off and dropped it to the stage floor, answered with an exhalation from her audience as part of her long, bare leg was revealed.

*Oh! More…more…!*

More coins were tossed onto the stage, sending their encouragement with a “ching!” Chantel barely noticed and bumped her hips a few more times, pulling the stiff straps of her costume down to show the expanse of warm, slightly damp skin and bare shoulders as her breasts strained against the fabric. One of her hands slipped into the opening of her strips and she audibly moaned before tearing off another strip, exposing most of her right leg.

Indra did have the thought to look toward the bar to see if Glain was present. For whatever reason, he was not. The young female dwarf currently tending the bar was staring open-mouthed and a little entranced herself at the magic within the room. Fortunately, her customers didn’t notice her lack of tending as they focused on the show themselves.

The energy was quickly reaching a fever pitch as more coins landed at Chantel’s feet and customers started switching seats trying to get closer to the stage. They murmured her name, murmured prayers that she continue her dance.

*Show us….show us….!*

Chantel continued tearing at her costume, most of her expression masked by the veil, but her eyes began to show conflict and confusion as she exposed more of herself, touched more of herself in front of these men and women. She found herself opening and removing the bodice, spice-colored breasts and dark brown nipples revealed to a roar of approval and yet more coins. She grabbed at her generous mounds in consternation before pinching her own nipples and moaning again.

The music continued, but even the piper and the drummer seemed hypnotized by the dancer.

*So beautiful….*

*The rest…take it off…!*

Chantel got to her feet and turned around to show her backside peeking out beneath torn fabric, then she bent over as she pulled down her final costume piece but for her veil and her slippers, stepping only one leg out of the shortpants to spread her legs and stay bent over at the waist. Her own hands smoothed over her naked buttocks, and a few coins actually struck that plush bottom as her audience rewarded her handsomely for the full view.

*Touch yourself…*

Chantel shuddered at the voice in her head, tried to shake her head no.

* I can feel how aroused you are…put your fingers between your legs.*

The entertainer finally did reach to slide her fingers between glistening lips. There was a wet sound that only a few customers closest to the stage heard.

*Turn around. Face us. Show us that soft, glorious bush.*

The dancer stood up and shifted to face the audience, her chest heaving as her nipples tightened further in the open air. The decorative, well-groomed fur covering her mound was curly and black as the hair on her head, and men called excitedly to her at the sight.

*Keep performing for us, Chantel. It is your love, is it not, to have all these eyes watching you…?*

The exotic dancer smoothly dropped down into a crouch on the stage with a soft whimper. She kept her legs wide open as she used one hand behind her to brace herself, using the other to begin masturbating in earnest, the pinkness of her flesh on full display as her fingers alternated between thrusting into her body and rubbing her pleasure nub.

Chantel made an effort to speak as she moaned, as her fingers got faster. “Ohhh…noooo…m-make it st–….ah! Stop…make it…stop….!”

It didn’t stop until she orgasmed right on stage, her body shaking and her eyes clenched tightly shut to thunderous applause. The men nearly emptied their purses, and more than a few had already finished painting the tavern’s floor in their excitement. As Chantel knelt there gasping, her companions hurried forward to start collecting the coins for her.

The dancer didn’t even look at the coin before she scrambled to gather up most of her ruined costume, and then she ran off the stage full tilt.

*Come,* Indra ordered, standing quickly, mostly hidden amongst some taller men already on their feet. There was a lot of noise as people tried to determine just what in all Hells had just happened at the Orc’s Bane tonight?

The Fey’ri followed the dancer’s scent at first, but was delighted to hear a mad dash up some stairs that would take her to the second floor. Indra couldn’t go back stage easily but she could backtrack up the guest stairs. From there, she just had to get close enough to sense Chantel’s tumultuous thoughts. When she was certain she’d found the right door, number twenty-three, she heard quiet sobbing.

The dancer was thinking, *What have I done? What happened to me, what by the gods came over me?!*

Indra knocked, but did not use her voice. *Chantel. Open the door. Do not fear.*

The woman gasped, her thoughts still foggy and confused.

*Come. Open the door. You will be alright, I will show you.*

After some long moments of hesitation, the dancer finally did open the door, dressed in a quick robe that she’d thrown on upon entering her room. She’d taken off her veil, and her mouth was as full and red as Indra had imagined it might be. The diabolic elf held out her hand for Chantel to take.

*Come with me, beautiful sweet. We’ve little time.*

Without understanding why, the dancer took the Fey’ri’s hand and the trio quickly led the performer back to their own room at the Orc’s Bane, locking the door.

Immediately Indra covered her mouth in a kiss, her hands reaching to undo the sash and open Chantel’s robe again so soon after she’d put it on.

*You have no need to cover yourself, Chantel.*


*Shhh…I want you. I will taste you.*

The dancer’s robe fell to the floor and William stepped up behind to catch Chantel as she seemed light-headed as Indra withdrew from the kiss, overwhelmed by her aura and her raw lust. Indra greedily caressed and explored the voluptuous dancer with her mouth and her hands, sampling her breasts and her belly, working down to breathe warm air into her fur, smelling her scent before nuzzling her clitoris. Indra remained on her knees to begin sucking eagerly on the other woman.

It was even better than in her dreams…softer, slicker, the most intoxicating fragrance…

Tamton was already helping to remove his Mistress’s clothing without being asked, watching as her illusion began to fade. Indra’s need had become so strong she could no longer focus on it. Indra cooperated only as long as it took to get the clothing off her before she returned to her oral ravishment of the enthralled performer. Her tail whipped back and forth in extreme excitement and her wings stretched out and quivered as clawed, red hands explored every curve and crevice to the half-elf woman.

Chantel cried out weakly, her eyes widening as the devil-bred came into full view with her true colors, but still she kept her legs open as a quick, talented devil’s tongue lapped between them. William still held her against his chest, his arms hooked beneath hers to help keep her upright. Meanwhile, Tamton prepared himself to feed Indra’s hungry snatch, opening his trousers to mount her.

*Take her, William,* Indra said in his mind. *I want her filled and you thrusting into her right next to my chin as she cums on my face.*

The second escort was far beyond any resolve at this point, and he used one hand to unfastened his pants like his compatriot, and shove them down far enough to free his erection. With Indra’s help, he got the woman to lift one of her flexible legs and he hooked it with a forearm to hold her open. As soon as his rigid member was against the dancer’s sex, Indra helped him guide it, telling him when to push.

Chantel grunted, feeling the bare, unfamiliar penetration and started breathing very quickly. She shook her head, but she couldn’t tell them to stop. She was unable to speak as she twitched and writhed at the intense sensations.

William was silent as he worked his member inside the woman at a steady pace, a bit in awe and all he seemed able to think about was that he, of all the men staring at her as she stripped and performed on stage, had ultimately claimed her body. Not without Lady Rousse, of course, and her intense desire…Tamton was thrusting so hard into his Mistress that he could hear the slaps of their haunches.

Chantel’s body tightened in William’s arms and she squirmed more as he squeezed her generous breast, moaning as all the hungry attention to her body brought her inexorably closer to climaxing.

*Yes, sweet one, oh yes, cum for us, cum once again for your audience, all attention is on you, just as you like it…*

The exotic woman shrieked once, her orgasm breaking like a wave, and it set off the other three one by one: Indra, Tamton, then William in quick succession. The power swirled around them, making it impossible to breathe until the surge of pleasure had receded.

They were still catching their breaths, disengaging from wet and sweaty skin, when they realized Glain was pounding so hard on the door that it was about to come off its hinges.


That proved a pointless threat as the dwarf broke the handle to his own inn door and barged straight in. He froze at the scene of the naked dancer, two men with their pants down and one naked…something!…

“Troll spit!” he cursed and quickly spun to slam the door in the face of the first curious onlooker, bracing it with a chair. Then he turned back around, brandishing his axe, his scarred face dark with fury.

He didn’t speak immediately, however; he was looking hard at Indra, studying her as she got up off the floor, her face wet from the other woman’s juices.

She smiled at him, not worried about much at all at the moment as she basked in one of the most powerful afterglows she ever remembered. “If you had wanted to join, Master Glain, you only had to ask. You didn’t need to break the door.”

“Quiet, ye!” he barked, and after another beat, “I dinnae realize Indrath’s spawn had grown up so soon. Yer ‘Miss Bennett,’ I take it?”

“That, or she’s very generous with her escorts,” she responded with humor, crossing her arms as Tamton and William were working to right their clothing and actually be able to do something to protect their Mistress if it came down to it. They did not, however, draw a weapon. Apparently the proprietor was the only one who could.

“Just like him, I see,” Glain growled.

She quirked a purple brow at him. “And how would you know if I was?”

“None yer damn business. I want ye three out of my inn, tonight. Ye’ll leave *my* performer here to recover from what ye’ve done to her. And ye wunnae be welcome here again without an apology from Lord Rousse for yer behavior.”

Indra started to laugh, but Glain’s clear, building anger made her think twice.

“This is neutral ground, whelp,” the dwarf said, his eyes some of the most intense she’d ever seen. “Ye not only took this woman against her will, ye also caused a huge raucous downstairs with people wantin’ to hump each other after that show. And ye had ever’thin’ to do with it. It’ll take hours to clean up and I’ll be explain’ for months that I havenae changed my stance on nudey dances!”

He growled deeply. “An’ ye just put yer Da in an awkward spot here, kid. See if he’s laughin’ when he hears about this.”

That last comment finally succeeded in breaking both her afterglow and her good humor. Now her stomach started to feel a little sick. Could he be right?

“Getcher things. Ye can stand in the foyer until yer coach shows up to take ye home. But after that, no comin’ here unless ye have the right message for me, *Lady* Rousse. Got it?”

Indra nodded slowly without saying anything, wondering if there was any magic she had that might help this situation? She didn’t think so…it would probably only make it worse.

Glain moved forward, his very presence almost a physical force causing the three to back up out of his way, and he re-slung his axe before he picked up the robe to drape it over a very quiet Chantel. He helped her to her feet and guided her gently to open the door.

The dwarf looked back at them one last time. “Oh, an’ no refunds.”


Lord Indrath well knew she’d caused trouble again, simply in having to send a coach to pick-up his offspring in the middle of the night. His major domo, Jauvart, saw her safely home before bringing her to her father’s audience.

It was a very uncomfortable re-telling for her as her Lord Father watched her almost without blinking.

“That is…quite the tale, Indra. I would ask what possessed you, but it is most apparent that you were the one doing the possessing, isn’t it?”

His daughter blushed with embarrassment that only he seemed able to make her feel, and was very unhappy that all she seemed to be doing after leaving the grounds was apologizing to him.

“Perhaps this is as much as much my doing as yours,” he sighed. “Your powers are growing faster than I anticipated. I see no other option than to keep you within the estate until you have better control.”

Indra flinched as if she’d been struck and shook her head earnestly. “No, Father, please. I won’t learn more control here, not after seeing the Trade Ward. There is so much going on, so many thoughts and sensations that aren’t familiar. Your servants here know what is expected of them, they are entirely predictable. The city is not, it thrills me like nothing else!”

“You have shown very quickly you are not ready to go to the city, my dear,” Indrath responded very firmly. “But that is not to say that I could not bring some of the city to you.”

Indra shook her head again. “I know how secretive you are. Only those who meet your standards could ever enter to see the inside of this place, it would not be the same.”

He gave her a steady gaze. “It would be if they remembered none of it afterward.”

She began to protest again but he cut her off.

“Indra. Enough. I’ve decided. You’ll not leave the grounds again until at least the summer season. We will re-evaluate then.”

His daughter went rigid in frustration, her fists clenched and her agitated tail coiling about itself. Tears appeared in her eyes and her lower lip trembled as she tried to catch her breath around a lump in her throat. She cleared it before asking, “May I be excused, Father?”

“Excused? To where, Daughter?”

She gave him a look but knew well why he’d ask for clarification on that one. “My quarters.”

“Yes. You may be excused to your quarters.”

His offspring left his office quickly, her high emotion very visible in her aura and her thoughts in turmoil. She was thinking how she could not seem to please him in following her own magic, in practicing, as he’d said, with very little guidance. He’d allowed her to get the piercing which amplified her aura in the first place, and how was she to know what she could and couldn’t do in the City if he merely said, “Go and see”? It had been so exciting as well, so freeing to decide how to spend her time in the bustle of activity… but now any time she used her sexual magic, she got in trouble for it.

She was confused and very hurt.

Indrath sighed to himself. She hadn’t yet realized the essence of her mistakes. She was overbearing her victims with pure power. They were fully aware they were being forced, aware that their will was being bent only to please her. And others watching were aware of the force being used as well. It helped that she had not hurt any of her victims, that they only experienced a strong orgasm from their contact with her, but it still created complexities that he couldn’t allow to go unchecked for long.

When his daughter understood better how to use her powers—when she at last learned some subtlety—those whom she chose would simply say, “Yes.” They would be grateful to be with such beauty and experience pleasure beyond their very dreams. No one watching would give it a second thought; there would be no trouble, no undue attention. There would be no negative reputation to make forging future alliances more difficult, and it would not make finding future loyal servants or the occasional sacrifice that much harder.

Still, he couldn’t judge her too harshly. It wasn’t as though Indrath didn’t possess certain impulsive memories of his own. She reminded him so much of himself at that age.

As the Fey Lord thought about Glain next, and Indra’s description of his outrage at the Orc’s Bane, he began to laugh audibly, smooth and low. Such a scene to behold after the dwarf had charged in! Glain could use a little more excitement after his retirement… and Indra no doubt brought back memories. It was just as well that Indra had revealed herself that way to his former associate; she may just be as potent as Indrath was over time, and the dwarf should keep it in mind.

Yes. It was time to visit the stubborn old codger again, anyway. They could reminisce. Indra could bring him that “note of apology” some time later, when she eventually went back.

Meanwhile, his daughter needed some specialized tutors…and better protection than poor Tamton could offer.

Prepared to kill whatever lay in his path, he was surprised that a sharp tap to the immobile mass caused a pained grunt. Using the toe of his boot he shifted what became apparent was a man. Well a boy. He gasped softly when he came across the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Though rimmed with red they still shined like emeralds.

A moan from the pitiful creature brought his eyes to a full mouth that was cracked and dry. As if on cue a wickedly pink tongue poked out in an attempt to wet those lips. The effect was instantaneous the sex between his legs tightened as he imagines what that mouth would look and feel like wrapped around his cock. He could see it now the lad would be on his knees his hands chained in iron at his back. He would have his prick buried so deep in the boy’s throat that those eyes would tear and pled wordlessly for a respite that would not be forth coming.

He would bury his hands in those thick curls and force the boy’s mouth to work his sex at a faster pace as he neared completion. Once that familiar tingle at the base of his spine started, when the heat pooling in his belly turned into an inferno, he would tear the boy’s head away from his groin and fire his seed across those bruised and swollen lips.

“P…please” the sound drew him from his sinful thoughts and he focused on the boy that had cast pleading eyes upon him. The priest cast one look at his men who stood less than two feet away. In the dimming light they assessed him and he them. Any one of these men would rape and kill the lad if given half the chance. They would share him over and over until he was of no more use to them or himself and then they’d kill him. They would slice his throat from ear to ear.

He should really leave the boy here and let nature finish what it had started. He should really check the boy to see what valuables he carried on his person. It was clear that the boy had no business being out here. The boy was so unlike him and his men he was … delicate. It was also clear that everything that he should do he wasn’t going to do. He was going to take the lad back to their hideout, and dare any of these men try to take the boy without his permission. They would find themselves on the perilously wrong side of his blade. The boy was his!

Stooping down over the boy he lifted the lad and carried him back to where the men and his horse waited. He saw the question in their eyes as he approached with the boy. Yes. He saw the question but he knew they would not be so foolish as to question his judgment. He climbed onto the saddle after he had placed the boy securely on it first. He ordered the horse on with a nudge to its side with his heel without a further glance at the men behind him.


“What’s the priest gunna do wit’ that boy? Marcus inquired of the men gathered around the fire in the abandoned church that they called home.

“D’you think he’ll let us have a go at him?” Murdoc asked not bothering to answer Marcus’ question.

“It’s been ages since any of us has had a tight arse to plough. An’ that boy in there looks more than ripe. Don’t he lads?”

“I wouldn’t even mind having the Priest’ leftovers, so long as I’ll be able to fuck that boy it’ll be alright.” A series of grunts and agreements sounded around from the eight men that huddled around the fire. Their eyes gleamed with maliciousness in the light.

“You’d better not let the Priest hear you talkin’ like that.”

The men jumped when Doc spoke as they hadn’t heard his approach.

“He’s attached to that boy and he’d kill any one of you that so much as looked cross- eyed at him” Doc continued.

“So if I were you I’d keep my thoughts close to my heart lest the Priest catches wind of them.”

All the men turned their eyes to the stairwell that led up to what used to be the *rectory*. Up there the Priest was with the boy, he’d been up there since they’d come back earlier that evening. The only person the Priest had spoken to was Doc, clearly even Doc had outgrown his welcome and been relegated to the *church floor* with the rest of the men.

“What are we eating tonight?” Doc asked. Immediately Harry a rather shy freckled man handed him a silver plate with some buttered bread and a hunk of meat, along with a goblet of wine. Doc thanked him before sitting down in one of the pews; he didn’t feel like socializing with these men after he’d heard how they’d spoken of the boy. Discussing him as though he were no more than a slab of beef to be devoured. His thoughts were interrupted as Harry approached him and sat down next to him on the bench. His food sat untouched next to him as Harry opened his mouth to speak.

“Doc” he whispered aware that the other men were not too far away.

“Doc y…y…you hav…vv…ent b…b…been t…t…to see m…m…me in a while” he stammered. God he hated that he always got tongue tied and nervous when around the Doc. Dear God but he couldn’t help it, just one look from Doc and his heart raced and his blood pounded through his veins. He worried his lower lip and wrung his hands nervous gestures just like his stammering. He could feel a blush rise up his neck and spread across his cheeks. He chanced a glance up at Doc through his lashes; he had a smile on his lips.

“I know Harry; I’ve missed not having you warm my bed at night. You know things have been rather dangerous as of late, a lot of injuries I’ve had to tend to.” He raised his hand to brush the heated flesh on the man’s face.

“But tomorrow night will be just for you and I. The boy should sleep through the night but there is no guarantee. I’ll have to be alert in case Priest needs me.” He whispered against Harry’s mouth.

His tongue darted out to bathe his lower lip, he heard the choked inhale from the other man and he took advantage of the parted lips. Slipping his tongue inside Harry’s mouth felt like a joyous reunion after a painfully long absence. He flicked his tongue over the other man’s shyer muscle attempting to coax it into playing with his. He licked the inside of Harry’s cheek, his teeth, his gums wanting to taste and posses every inch of the man who was just as much his as he belonged to Harry.

He groaned into Harry’s mouth when his tongue finally decided to come out and play. His lungs started to burn but he didn’t care he wanted, needed more. It had been too long, too many nights of not burying his cock deep into that tight passage. Being so deep and pounding so hard that he couldn’t tell where he ended and Harry began. His hands had woven themselves into Harry’s hair tugging him closer. His cock throbbed, it ached. Finally he tore his mouth away and sucked air into his burning lungs.

Taking in the state of the man before him, his cock lurched painfully and fluid leaked from the tip. Harry was flushed and panting his eyes wide and dilated with passion. His lips were bruised and wet from the kiss they had shared. Harry whimpered and reached for him once more.

The chapel had fallen into disrepair, the people no longer felt any need of it and it had been in misuse for many years, stood dark and cold at the edge of the village, like the shell of a body which has lost its heart, its soul, its purpose.

But once every week, on what would once have been a holy day, Agatha would sit at her window which overlooked the chapel and see the bowed figure scuttling through the grounds, no more than a shadow sometimes, other times stark in the light of the moon to show her the cowl, the long robe, the monastic movement and the pious pose.

As she waited, curled in the seat of the window, her face as pale as distant starlight, one hand delved beneath her skirts, rummaged beneath the layers of silk that she always favoured until it found her cold thigh.

Fingers inching along the smooth flesh, slowly as if it was another who was teasing her, they slipped between her legs and began to strum the lips of her cunt, exciting her as she waited. And then there he was!

In an instant she was up from her seat and down the stairs, out into the night and hurrying across to the chapel, skirts billowing behind her so that she seemed like some dark vengeful spectre.

She could see him in a pew, the priest, as soon as she opened the chapel door could make out his bowed head, the slumped shoulders, the contrite attitude. Slowly she slipped through the door and made her way towards him.

The rustle of her skirts must have caught his attention, or perhaps it was simply the chill of her presence, he turned and his eyes grew wide as he picked her out of the gloom, not expecting his customary solitude to be disturbed. She sat beside him, dark and brooding, looking to him like a person who might have sinned.

If only for the fact that Agatha had no belief in sin.

“Will you help me, Father?” she asked softly, turning to him slightly, her skirts parting at the knees to give him a glimpse of her thighs.

In the gloom her flesh looked paler than ever, her dark lips bloody.

“If I can,” the priest answered, his voice a little hoarse as he fought to draw his eyes from the bared flesh.

“I have a confession to make, Father.”

“Then-” He looked to the confessional in the far corner of the chapel, was about to rise, but Agatha placed her hand on his knee.

“No, here,” she insisted. “We will speak here.”

Her eyes glared at him, there was no hint of contrition in them, but the priest nodded. “Very well my child.”

Agatha smirked to hear him call her “child”. As if! But he would learn!

“Father, I have wicked ways,” she began, her voice low so that he had to strain to catch her words, leaning a little towards her.

“Sinful thoughts? Sinful deeds?”

She smiled, there was no such thing as sin, said, “I have thoughts of hurting men, Father, of using them.”

“Not loving them? And do you put these thoughts into effect?”

“Oh yes!” she said, her hand tightening on his knee. “And more. Thoughts of women, too. But with women it is desire. I desire sexual contact with them, wish to lie in their arms.”

“And do you act on these desires too?” the priest asked, his voice breaking a little.

“Oh yes, with Bittersweet,” Agatha answered.


“My lover. We lay together and caress each other, kiss each other, finger ourselves and each other and make each other come.”

The priest cleared his throat and crossed his legs, momentarily dislodging Agatha’s hand. Beneath the long black cassock he wore she was sure he would have an erection.

She brought her face even closer to his, her eyes wide so that he could lose himself in them, asked, “So if it is love then can it be wrong?”

“It … it is a sin my child.”

“A sin?” she repeated, as if she did not know the word, and her hand slipped from his knee into his lap. “But surely not, Father? It feels so good.”

“Pleasure can be a sin, my child,” he said, as her hand began to move gently back and forth across his groin, the back of her hand pressing against one thigh, then her palm against the other, her knuckles rocking back and forth over his genitals.

“And pain too?” she asked, suddenly clenching her fingers around his balls.

He let out a cry and she released him immediately, jumped to her feet.

“But if I have sinned then I must be punished!” she exclaimed, standing before him, her back to him. Slowly she raised her skirts to her waist, bared her arse to him, backed towards him so that the naked buttocks were only inches from his face.

“Do you wish to punish me, Father?” she asked him, over her shoulder, and moments later she felt fingers tentatively touching her pale white flesh.

Then there was a pitiful sob and they fell away.

Agatha turned, sneered down at him, spat in his face. “You poor sad slut!”

Bending over him, she began to unfasten his cassock, from the neck down to the hem. He offered no resistance, made no protest, when her hair fell over his face in a fragrant musty veil he made no attempt to brush it away. Parting his cassock, Agatha bared his body. His flesh was white, it had never seen the sun and was as pale as hers, but his cock was thick and throbbing, twitching in the cold air of the chapel.

Holding her skirts high, Agatha fell down on top of him, sitting so hard on his cock that it caused him to gasp as it hit the roof of her cunt. She stirred her body around on top of him, her hips moving in liquid circles, and soon he responded, rising to meet her. She rolled to one side, lying on the hard pew and drawing him on top of her. She pinched his nipples to make him cry, raked her nails across his chest to make him sob, held him tight to her with her arms and legs, crushing him as if in a vice.

The priest thrust into her but he was inexperienced, he was clumsy and crude and he had no control, within seconds he was coming inside her with a fervour which he had previously reserved for his god, filling her with his thick creamy spunk. And all too soon he was soft inside her.

Agatha kicked him away from her, heard him fall heavily to the stone floor. She sat on the edge of the pew, her legs wide apart and dripping his spunk back onto his face, into his open mouth, spooned her fingers inside her to continue her own excitement and then wiped them across his cheeks, anointed his brow with them. He was sobbing, crying that he had sinned, and she stood, kicked him in the side as she climbed over him.

“Stupid little man! There is no sin!” she told him, walking quickly across to the altar.

There was a large wooden cross there, the height of a man, and putting her whole weight behind it she toppled it over in a crashing cloud of dust, rested it at an angle against the altar.

“What are you doing? That is desecration!” the priest cried.

Agatha strode angrily back to him, her boots echoing against the walls of the chapel, reverberating about that once sacred place, gripped him viciously by the hair and tugged.

“Come with me you sad little shit!” she said, and pulled him along, dragging him across the floor on hands and knees to fling him against the cross.

Then, kneeling astride him, her skirts like a dark pool spilling over him, she bound him too it, tied his hands outstretched, his feet, wrapped stout leather straps around his chest and waist. Another around his neck was buckled so tight that it almost choked him. He was unable to move, bound helpless before her.

She stepped back to regard him, a cold smile on her face entrancing him, as if draining the last ounce of purity and virtue from his body. Then she clapped her hands, called, “Ready?”

The priest was unable to move his head, but his eyes flicked to the chapel door as it creaked open, saw a second woman enter, walk down the aisle to stand beside Agatha and take her hand.

“My lover, Bittersweet,” Agatha told the priest, kissing her on the lips, finally showing some tenderness in her eyes. “He says we have sinned,” she said softly to Bittersweet.

Bittersweet laughed. “Shall we teach him? Shall we show him what sin is, my love?”

The two women approached the crucified priest, Bittersweet reached out and ran a hand over his belly, his chest. Then she closed her fingers around his nipple and dug her sharp nails into his chest.

The priest screamed aloud but his cock rose erect, jutting out from his body so that he became a travesty of a martyr, a sinful parody of a saint.

Agatha laughed and slapped it hard, bringing another anguished cry from him.

They both caressed his face, hands running over his cheeks, parting his lips. Bittersweet brought her face close to his, licked his mouth, then took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit. When Agatha nipped at his neck and Bittersweet drew her nails across his chest, over his belly, the two women had him weeping like a child.

Agatha and Bittersweet were now excited, for each other, with each other. They smiled into each other’s eyes and embraced, kissed deeply, tongues meeting in a frenzy. One on either side of the priest, their bodies pressing against him, they folded him in their embrace, almost suffocating him with their flesh. His body was quivering between them, tears coursed down his cheeks as Bittersweet cupped his balls and Agatha grasped his cock.

“Well, priest?” asked Agatha, her lips close to his ear, her words scorching his cheek.

“There is no sin,” he agreed as he came, his cock spurting over their hands.

On the third day of Hrive ‘Isia

The sound of laughter, gaiety, and joy greeted Gilraen as she made her way through the village. Her thoughts were her own. She wove her way around couples, and families, as well as various merchants who tried to catch her eye. Gilraen had no reason to speak with any of them, her goal was not to strengthen friendships, or empty her father’s coffers. She sought knowledge, knowledge that only one woman in the village could give her — for a price. The weight of Gilraen’s pursed slapped against her hip. Mistress Ireth would be paid handsomely for her silence.

The night before Gilraen had lain in bed, her body aroused from Turgon’s attentions, her mind full of hostility from his words. The more she lay thinking about the way his fingers skated across her skin, and the tender kisses he’d trailed along her throat, the more she came to realize that her inexperience at seduction would cause her more harm than good. Her quest to begin looking for her own cluster of male admirers would fail if she did not learn how to properly seduce her intended targets. The idea of reaching out to Ireth had at first disgusted her, but the longer she mused, the more she convinced herself it was her only answer.

Mistress Ireth’s cottage was set further back from the rest of the village. The path to her doorstep was worn, the rocks smooth from the countless many that had traveled across them. Gilraen bit her lip, looked around, caught a few villagers’ eyes and glared back at them. Each one quickly turned away, some chuckling, others whispering to their companions and others scurrying away as if they had more important things to do than to worry about their Princess.

The young virgin woman shook her hair, squared her shoulders and lifted her fist to rap heavily on the door. A low curse and a high pitched giggle greeted Gilraen. Her cheeks grew flush; she thought of turning away, running back to the castle and hiding herself within the walls of her room. Seconds before her cowardly self gave in, the door to the cottage opened. Gilraen’s cheeks grew a brighter shade of pink. Mistress Ireth stood before her, the opening of her dress had been pulled apart, two large breasts hung low, and gently swayed as the whore leaned against the door. It took the woman only a moment to realize who her guest was.

Gilraen watched with little satisfaction as Ireth hurried to cover herself. “Princess Gilraen,” Ireth gasped, stepped back, and curtsied. Gilraen walked in, glanced around the room, and paused when her eyes rested on the man who had cursed at her intrusion.

“Father Huro?”

The old priest stuttered, as he reached down to grab his pants. “Uh — Princess, I — uh — is something wrong?” Huro scurried to put on his shirt, tie his slacks, and grab his shoes. “I — uh — I was just…” Silence hung in the air. Gilraen frowned. Huro’s shoulders grew slack and a deep sigh escaped his lungs. “I’m sorry. I shall pack my belongings and…”

“No!” Ireth cried. She closed the door behind the Princess and hurried to the Priest’s side. “You should not have to leave. I will go. This is your home more than mine and…”

“Enough,” Gilraen shouted, “I’ve not said one word since walking over the threshold. “Father Huro, please do not let this trouble you,” her hand swept toward the rumpled bed. “I do not attempt to know the desires of a man and cannot find fault in something I don’t understand.”

Huro swallowed the lump in his throat, and looked questionably at Ireth. “Why are you here? And who told you where to find me?” he asked Gilraen.

This time it was the Princess’s turn to blush. “I was not looking for you,” she turned away; “I was looking for Mistress Ireth.”


Huro stepped away, curious as to what the Princess needed from the village whore. “Yes, Mistress, I am curious — I want to…” Gilraen took a deep calming breath, glanced at the Priest and then back to the floor. “I wish to please a man in bed so I have come seeking advice on how to properly seduce him, and then bed him.”

Huro choked on the air in his lungs, bringing Gilraen’s face to a brighter red. “Princess, surely you don’t wish to seek advice from Ireth,” he gasped.

Ireth turned to the Priest, her hands rested on her hips. “And why wouldn’t she? Can you think of another who could better instruct our Lady?”

“Well, no — but — but — you can’t, she’s the Princess and –”

“Enough!” Gilraen shouted again. She detached the bag of coins from her waist and handed them to Ireth. “Here, for your silence.”

A slim hand, aged from time reached out and took the offering, noted the weight and grinned. “Your Highness, it will be a pleasure instructing you. What questions do you seek?”

Huro grumbled loudly, “Well, I will not be witness to this, it’s disgraceful and…”

“Father Huro,” Gilraen emphasized the man’s profession, “please remain; you are someone I trust and perhaps you will have knowledge that Ireth doesn’t. You are a man after all and it is obvious you enjoy the bedding ritual.”

“But I can’t — I won’t — no. I shall take my leave and -”

“It is an order,” Gilraen stated, her tone of voice left little room for disobedience. “Now, Mistress Ireth, please tell me the first step of seduction.” The Princess of Lúinwë sat down on a nearby chair and looked intently up at the whore before her, and the Priest to her left.

A minute seemed to tick by as the three occupants waiting for something to happen. Gilraen said nothing more; instead just lifting a brow to Ireth, indicating her patience was waning. Ireth dropped the bag of coins on the table, and walked over to Huro. “Please sit down, Father.” When Huro moved to take possession of another chair, Ireth stopped him, “no, on the bed.” His brows shot up, as did Gilraen’s.

“I am sure our young Princess will only be brave enough to come to me once, and so I must be thorough in my teaching. Princess, I ask only that you listen and remain in your seat. This will be awkward for all of us, but if you truly wish to please a man in bed, it is not by dining room flirtations or frolicking on the dance floor that will gain his favor, it is pleasuring him — and if you are fortunate, he will pleasure you back.”

Gilraen said nothing. Her pulse raced as her mind worked to understand what Ireth had in mind. She watched as the experienced woman, pushed Huro back. His knees buckled and his hands gripped the edge of the bed. “This is not right,” he muttered; his gaze flew back and forth between the two women, both beautiful in their own way.

“It is what it is,” Ireth purred. Her hand moved to caress Huro’s wrinkled cheeks. Her nails scrapped gently across his unshaven beard. “A clean face, free of hair is delicious, but if you have a chance to feel the scratch of whiskers against your breasts, neck, and pussy…” Ireth moaned softly, “that is a treat too.”

Gilraen trembled slightly. Her eyes blinked away the heady evidence of growing excitement. Her breath quickened when Ireth began to undress herself. Soon the woman stood before the Priest naked. Her full breasts were heavy from age, but still looked smooth and clean of blemishes and marks. Gilraen questioned the rumors of Ireth’s diseased body. She watched as Ireth slipped onto the bed, settled behind Huro, rested on her knees and draped her arms around the man’s shoulders. Her boobs pushed into his back. Her fingers teased the strings of his shirt; eventually loosening them enough so she could slide her hands against the warm flesh. “Does your Prince have hair on his chest?” she asked the Princess, not really expecting an answer. “If he does, than run your fingers through it make him remember that there is not a hair on his body you will leave untouched. While you explore him, be sure to mark him in other ways. A kiss, here,” she pressed her lips to Huro’s neck, “here,” she kissed his ear, “and here,” she tilted his head back and kissed his mouth. Her tongue slid in and merged with his.

The Princess watched. Her body shivered; she dismissed the reflex blaming the chilled winter air. Ireth’s hands slid over Huro’s skin, the shirt slowly become more and more loose. Eventually Huro shrugged out of it. Gilraen made little notice of his silent acceptance of the circumstances he was in; instead she allowed herself the luxury of looking at a man’s body.

Huro’s chest was not as firm as the warriors of her father’s house. Ireth’s fingers moved across the white hairs that lay scattered on the man’s flesh. His muscles were not lean, but showed promise of strength in their youth. His stomach was not overly huge, but did show signs of eating with gusto. Gilraen glanced lower, curious as to what the rest of her Priest looked like.

Ireth chuckled; the laughter snapped the Princess’s attentions back to the whore and her actions. She blushed, having been caught in her assessment of the holy man. A deep breath, raised shoulders, and a straightened back told Ireth to continue. The whore smirked. “Take note of what your lover likes. Does he shy away from tender kisses,” she placed small delicate ones across Huro’s shoulders, “or does he like them to be more of a vigorous nature.” Huro winced, and then moaned softly when Ireth sealed a kiss with a small nip of her teeth. Gilraen noted the man’s change in demeanor. Would Turgon want her to bite him? The idea, surprisingly held appeal to the virgin’s thoughts.

“Don’t forget these bits on a man,” Ireth whispered, calling attention back to her and her partner. Long slim fingers pinched each one of Huro’s nipples. He grunted low, the sound one of obvious approval. Ireth looked at the Princess as she twisted both of the hard beads, and suckled on Huro’s neck. Her breasts continued to be pressed into the bare flesh of her lover. She moaned softly, before releasing her willing victim. “Our Priest — he does enjoy a little kick in his fuckin’.”

Gilraen blushed at the foul word.

“Yes, Your Highness, even language unfit for a royal can bring moisture to ones thighs, or hardness to a cock.” Ireth reached down and stroked Huro’s erection. Her lips continued to assault his skin. Gilraen watched with growing frustration. Her eyes were glued to Ireth’s hand and she desperately wanted to see what the whore stroked. She licked her lips in anticipation.

Huro groaned. He pulled Ireth’s hand away, undid his pants and allowed his cock to leap free. A gasp of surprise escaped Gilraen’s parted lips. She stared at the man’s penis. Her fingers curled into a tight fist. “Oh my,” she whispered.

Ireth purred against her lover’s neck. “Yes, our Priest is blessed with an awesome cock.” Ireth played with the head. “But don’t become over excited. I cannot promise your husband will be so greatly endowed. Some men are smaller than our lovely plaything, others are larger…”

“Not much,” Hugo muttered.

Ireth laughed, “No my dear not much.”

Gilraen inched closer off her seat. “What is that?” she asked.

Ireth winked, ran her finger across the clear liquid that had spilled free of Huro’s dick. “That is a sure sign you have aroused your lover. Yes, his hardness is too, but this, this delicious nectar,” Ireth licked her finger clean, “this is the first taste of a surprise more rewarding than many realize.”

Huro groaned. “I think we’ve shown her enough,” he hissed, yet made no movement to show he was drawing an end to their arrangement.

“No, no you haven’t,” Gilraen whispered.

Ireth winked at the woman, wrapped her hand around Huro’s shaft and began to pump it up and down. Her eyes remained fixed on the Princess; her lips trailed kisses and nips along her lover’s shoulders. A grunt of encouragement fell from the Priest’s mouth. Ireth slipped from the bed, again holding Gilraen’s attention. “His cock Princess — deep inside there is a gift for you, it is eager to come out, it wants nothing more than to slide down your throat and settle into your belly. There will be times when you cannot take his cock into your pussy, and so during those times you should ease your man’s suffering with your mouth.”

Huro cursed and Gilraen watched as Ireth slid to her knees. “You can undress your partner, or wait for him to undress himself.” Huro wasted no time in removing his clothing; he stood before his Princess and his whore fully engorged. Gilraen’s lips were dry; her tongue darted out to moisten the soft pink petals. Her sex tightened in curiosity.

“If you were not our Princess, I would let you ease his suffering with me,” Ireth whispered, before capturing the head of Huro’s cock between her lips. Both the Priest and the Princess gasped. The sound however was muffled by the humming from Ireth’s throat.

The show continued for Gilraen. She watched Ireth lift off Huro’s cock head, then slide back over it. Her tongue darted out, licked the tip, played with the small hole and caressed the veins that were engorged with desire. Gilraen’s lungs burned as she held her breath, eager to see what gift Ireth would coax from her lover.

Ireth moved her hands, cupped Huro’s balls and massaged the twin spheres. She popped off the man’s stiff tool, lapped at his tender sack and smiled over to the Princess. “These jewels you must cherish, for hidden behind the flesh will be the gift we seek. The juices that spring out will not only feed your belly, coat your throat, and cover your flesh, but will be what gives life to your womb. You must be kind, and gentle, but again some men like a little bit of pain applied here.” Ireth squeezed one of Huro’s balls, and then winced when his fingers pulled at her hair. She laughed hardheartedly, released the assaulted appendage and grinned. “He is not one of those men.” Her mouth moved to cover the bruised marble, blanketing it in a warm bath of tongue, lips, and suckling motions. Soon Huro’s hand was petting her, and his voice cooed his enjoyment.

Gilraen shifted nervously in her seat. Thoughts of Turgon pushing her head into his crotch, of his manhood sliding between her lips, and her tongue wrapping around him like a small snake, made her body sweat. A tingling sensation, between her thighs, seemed to beckon her toward some hidden goal. Images of her on her knees, suckling a man’s shaft, rolling his precious jewels between her fingers brought a hiss of pleasure from her lips.

She glanced at Ireth and noted the woman was paying little attention to the Princess, too lost in pleasuring the Priest. Gilraen released the tight hold she had on her gown. Her fingers slipped over to her chest; she felt the hard aroused state of her right nipple. She pinched it, welcomed the pain, and wondered if a lesson where Huro pleased Ireth would be in order. What pain could a man give to a woman that would bring pleasure?

“Princess — Princess…”

Gilraen’s hand dropped; she cleared her throat and looked at the whore.

“He’s going to cum Your Highness. Watch,” Ireth demanded.

A virgin’s gaze locked onto Huro’s cock. It glistened from Ireth’s saliva. Her hand pumped the swollen shaft with a speed unfathomable to Gilraen’s imagination. A blur of activity seemed to erupt all at once. A stream of white liquid exploded from the slit in the Priest’s cock. It splattered across Ireth and onto Huro’s stomach. Just as quickly Ireth moved to cover the erupting dick. Gilraen watched as Huro pushed her into his crotch; he used both hands to hold her there as he pumped his way in and out of her. He controlled her head, cursing at her to take everything. Gilraen was shocked, amazed, and awed by the power in the man’s words. He sounded as frightening in his demands to Ireth as he did condemning her people from the lectern.

When Ireth was allowed freedom from Huro’s thrusting, she popped up and pushed him to his back. “His cock,” her words came out breathless, “his cock can be hard again. Huro is a vigorous lover. With little effort,” experienced fingers stroked the half mast shaft, “he will be up and ready again.” Ireth wiped cum from her face, “and then Princess, then I will show you how to fuck a man.”

Gilraen’s body could take no more. She rose from her seat and hurried from the cottage. The image of her Priest, and the whore would be forever locked away, a private secret she would share with no one. Her steps carried her far away from the cottage and further from the village. Eventually her imagination forced her to stop and seek refuge. Taking note of her surroundings Gilraen realized that she’d made her way to a meadow where several young people of Lúinwë often spent the summer months fishing, swimming and enjoying the warm air. This day though, it was cool and the promise of a hard storm loomed in the air. It was only fitting, the winter season was upon them and the first real snowfall had not yet occurred.

Gilraen shivered slightly. She walked once around the pond, welcoming the cool air, allowing it to caress her skin, to tone down the brightness of her cheeks. The images of what had transpired earlier still weighed heavy on her mind; her breath would catch occasionally as she dared to imagine her and Turgon in such a heated exchange. During all her musings she never thought of another man in her fantasies. A frown formed, her forehead furrowed in annoyance. “It is only because no other man has been as close to me, as intimate with me. I am sure, if I were to lay my hands upon Círdan than I could imagine my fingers on his skin and my mouth on his…” she stopped talking aloud and cleared her head.

“So you’d have me take the life of my best friend, and most loyal soldier?”

Gilraen spun around. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened. “Lord Celebrindal, I wasn’t aware of you being outside the castle walls.”

Turgon moved casually toward the Princess. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “One of my men hurried back to me when they noted whose home you had opted to visit.”

Her face grew red, a mixture of anger and embarrassment mingled together. “You are having me followed?” She stepped closer to him, temporarily forgetting the feelings he’d invoked the night before. “What rights have you to send your lackeys trailing after me?”

The man chuckled softly, allowed the Princess to close the distance between them and waited while her tirade of emotions simmered to a lesser boil. “Your Highness, you are my betrothed, soon to be my wife, in just nine short days. Your mother has shown a lack of care and concern toward your well being, I will not however be so negligent, not to mention your threat last night to bed every man you come across –.”

“I said no such thing! I simply stated that I would bed whomever I pleased and -.”

“- and that just so happens to be Círdan?” Turgon finished for her. “I will kill him where he stands if he was to bed you, I’ll not share you with another.” Turgon lifted his hand to caress her face. His fingers were gloved, but the heat of his touch still seemed to singe Gilraen.

“Yet, again you speak as if it is merely a formality. My being loyal and your sticking your wick into whatever hole presents itself.”

“Such language,” his hand trailed across her lips, “is that something the whore taught you. How to speak like a slut to your lover? What other things did you learn from Mistress Ireth?”

Gilraen’s blush was a deep crimson; she stepped back and turned to leave. Her exit was cut short by the firm grasp of her betrothed’s hand on her arm. He turned her, pulling her hard against him. His mouth captured hers, and his tongue dove forcefully between her chilled lips, forcing them to open to his ministrations. Gilraen whimpered, unaware of the sound her throat made as she leaned further into his kiss. He tilted her head, eased on up on his assault and waited for her to relax. When he sensed her desire to give him free will, Turgon slowly began to stroke the sides of her tongue with his, encouraging her to follow his lead. Their muscles moved together, each one touching and tasting the other as if they had hours to burn and the cold air was nothing more than a comfort to their heated skin.

June 2018
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