Shorts

The Krampuslauf (Part I)

Yuletide was Ylva’s favorite time of year.

The smell of fresh greenery indoors, all the little candles twinkling among the boughs—it was like bringing the glimmering night sky indoors to the warmth of the crackling fire. Then there was the singing, the games, the feasts, the wine, the drunken kisses, the sneaking outside for a little bit more than a kiss… the long nights had their benefits. The cover of darkness made all sorts of delightful deviance possible. 

On the new moons, when you could hardly see your own hand in front of your face, she only bothered pulling the boys a few strides off the path before reaching down their trousers.

They called themselves “men”, but they were still barely twenty, so they were “boys” to her. She’d just passed her nineteenth name-day herself, but she’d hardly call herself a “woman”. Women practiced embroidery and fretted about dowries and thought about finding a husband. Girls were still wild, unkempt things with dirty feet and tangled hair.

It was the day before the solstice, and Ylva rode Petrie, the butcher’s son, on a snowbank behind the meat shop. Strands of wavy brown fell loose from her braid clung to her face. Her fur coat and tunic were half-unbuttoned, and Petrie grasped her bare breast.

The cold hardly bothered her—her body ached with so much heat. She loved being on top—she could rock her hips just-so and almost always cum.

“Y-Ylva, I’m close…”

“Me too,” she whispered. “J-just a few minutes more—oh, this feels so good…”

“M-minutes, Ylva… I’m not… I’m gonna…”

Ylva lifted her hips just in time—Petrie’s seed spilled out over onto his stomach.

Ylva huffed and plopped into the snow next to him.

“Why did you stop?” Petrie said, sounding disappointed.

“Because I don’t want to get pregnant. I told you that,” Ylva said. “Besides, you can touch it yourself. And not just now. Any time, did you know that? You won’t even go blind or turn into a goat or whatever your mother tells you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because maybe if you did that a little more, you’d last longer,” Ylva snapped. “But if I’m the first hot thing to touch your dick in a week, of course you’re going to pop like a keg.”

“We-we could go again,” Petrie said, hopeful.

Ylva signed. “No, I’m not in the mood to suck cock.”

“Well, but… you were just…”

“No, now I’ve got to be careful. That…” gestured to the smear of white on Petrie’s cock and stomach, “Is what gets you pregnant, you know. You have to wash it with soap and make water before it’s safe again.”

“Says who?”

“Says Auntie Helda.”

“That old witch? You can’t trust her.”

“Oh? Didn’t you trust her when Grulna missed her bleeding last year?”

Petrie exhaled sharply. “We’re done here.”

“Good, I already said I wasn’t in the mood. I’m leaving first. And don’t bother slipping me another note until you can last longer than it takes to wash your hands, hm?”

Ylva stalked off into the snow. She knew the last jab was unnecessary—but so was the discombobulated arousal she was going to be stuck in for the next few hours. She could use her own hands, too, but sex was always such a strong sensation, it took a few hours before she was sensitive enough. Ylva buttoned up her coat and clomped out from behind the butcher’s shop.

Other villagers hustled to-and-fro, walking by the gold light of the candles in every window and the thin silver of the moon, finishing preparations for the solstice celebrations.

Seeing the massive evergreen in the center of the town square with every candle proudly lit, limbs sparkling with ornaments that held well-wishes for the next year, improved her spirits a tad.

Still, it was too cold to just stand around, and Ylva wasn’t quite ready to head home. That left only one place to go. 


As Ylva pushed into the little herb shop, the jingle of the bells on the door and the scent of dried sage and tarragon greeted her.

A fat calico cat jumped down from the windowsill and wove between Ylva’s legs, purring. She bent down and scratched the cat’s rump.

Auntie Helda stepped out from behind a shelf of pickled vegetables. The herbalist looked to be in her sixties, with white hair and soft, weather-worn skin—but she moved like someone not a day over thirty. She wasn’t Ylva’s aunt—she actually wasn’t anyone’s aunt, and as far as Ylva knew, she didn’t have any family in the village—but everyone called her ‘Auntie’ just the same.

“Ylva, my little sprig!” she called out. “Happy Yuletide.”

“Happy Yuletide.”

“Looking for anything particular today?” Auntie Helda’s eyes twinkled knowingly.

Ylva stopped by often for contraceptive teas whenever one of her partners failed to manage his timing. Auntie Helda had never judged her—by the contrary, the older woman seemed to approve.

But Ylva’s cautions had been successful this time. Wryly, she wondered which was worse—the cramps that the tea caused or this visceral frustration. It was almost enough to tempt her to let Petrie finish next time.

“Just a moment of peace and quiet today,” Ylva admitted.

Auntie Helda winked. “Understood. But before I leave you be… take this.”

She tied a cotton cord around Ylva’s neck, and at the base hung a sprig of dried rosemary.

“What’s it for?” Ylva asked.

“Protection,” Auntie Helda said. “And mostly it just smells good.”

Ylva smiled. She’d always appreciated how down-to-earth Auntie Helda was. “Any specific reason I need extra protection?”

“Perhaps,” Auntie Helda said. “It might just be the little insanities of an old woman, but… my bones are creaking like they used to in the old days.”

“During the convergence?”

Auntie Helda nodded. “The veil between worlds was much thinner, then. Sometimes, the heavens align just right… and Yuletide has always been when the veil was the thinnest.”

“So you think spirits might come through the veil? What kind?”

“Well, when I was a little girl, it was not men in masks that we ran from during the Krampus parade.”

“There’s a real Krampus?” Ylva breathed. She’d thought it was just another fairy tale to get children to behave.

Auntie Helda nodded. “I saw him, once. Dreadful, beautiful creature. But I wasn’t quite naughty enough for him to drag me away…” She sounded almost disappointed. “Now you, on the other hand…” Auntie Helda winked. “You might need to watch out.”

Ylva grinned. “I’ll be sure to do that.”


Ylva rolled around a ball of wool for the fat calico cat until she knew it was late enough that she’d be getting a lecture. She ruffled the cat’s fur one last time, then trudged home.

As cold as her hands were when she reached her home, she knew as she pushed the door open that it would bring her no relief.

“Tsk, Ylva!” barked her mother, who stirred a cast-iron pot of soup in the fire. She was plump and strong, her curly black hair going grey early—something she never missed an opportunity to blame it on Ylva.

“You’re late and tracking mud in,” her mother snapped.

“Sorry Mama,” Ylva murmured insincerely as she back-tracked and wriggled out of her boots.

Her hand was mere inches from the knob of the door to her room when her mother said, “Ylva, I need to talk to you.”

Ylva sighed, tromped back to the living room and plopped down in front of the fire. If she was going to be lectured, she may as well be comfortable.

“Priest Jorin told me he caught you engaged in certain activities with one of the candle lighters… again.”

“So?”

“It’s like you’re trying to get caught!”

She was, actually. She thought it was funny how mad it made Priest Jorin.

“So you’re fine with it as long as I don’t get caught?”

Ylva’s mother sputtered. “That’s not what I’m saying. Ylva, I’m worried for you.”

“You’re always worried for me. If this is about no husband wanting me—that’s fine. I don’t want one.”

“Ylva, it’s not just about you. It’s about starting your own household, not being a burden on this one!”

That one stung. Ylva looked away and forced her shoulders to shrug.

“Tch. Ungrateful child.” Ylva’s mother whipped the spoon through the stew.

“So if that’s everything…” Ylva stood, stepping towards her room.

“Peel the potatoes. And do it right this time.”


Ylva’s mother was unrelenting in her demands through dinner, when she ranted to Ylva’s father about their daughter’s latest deviances.

Ylva’s father murmured an obligatory “Listen to your mother,” but his mind was clearly still in the wood shop, dreaming up new joineries or something.

Ylva thought his work was interesting, but she resented that he seemed to care more about it than her. Her own mind wandered back to the snowdrift behind the meat shop. She shifted restlessly under the table, her cunt still wet and aching from her earlier denial.

Finally, her parents climbed the ladder to their loft, and she was allowed to go to bed. She opened the door to the closet that she’d taken over as her room, only barely large enough for the cot. It was the only door in the little house, other than the entrance.

She flopped down and pulled the door closed behind her. It wasn’t much. But it put a sheet of wood between her and her parents, and that was all she needed to plunge her hand into her cunt.

The denial always made the relief that much sweeter, but Ylva was not usually one for delayed gratification. The Petrie in her imagination could last as long as she needed, and Ylva bit her pillow to stay quiet as the release rolled through her. It took the edge off, but a restless horniness still bubbled under her skin.

When Ylva finally drifted off to sleep, she dreamed of endlessly running, the shadow of a birch branch always close behind her.


Continued in Part II

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Shorts

Christmas Moonshine (Part II)

Continued from Part I


Ruth perched the knit version of Obbie on her dresser, and while it certainly helped imbue some Christmas cheer into the air, her apartment still felt a bit lonely and chilly.

Ruth still wasn’t quite sure what to do alone on a holiday. She sat on the edge of her bed, rolling the little glass bottle between her hands. It was unlabeled, and wiggling the stopper out released the scent of peppermint. Peppermint schnapps, then?

“Christmas cheer in a bottle, right Obbie?” With nothing better to do, Ruth tipped back the little bottle and downed the whole thing. The liquor bit at her tongue, but she liked it. She liked her little apartment and she liked her little life, dammit. And she liked Christmas. Even when her mother called her tacky.

Ruth went to the kitchen and dug out a candle, then brought it back and lit it on her dresser, a safe distance away from the knit cat. It wasn’t exactly a roaring fire, but it was better than nothing.

Within a few minutes, the warmth of the liquor dispelled the cold. So thoroughly, in fact, that she might as well have been next to a bonfire after all. Ruth dove under her covers and wiggled out of her pajamas. 

She was feeling very warm. Hot actually. Especially in some specific areas. So, hot and bothered. Was she really getting off so much on finally being able to say ‘fuck you’ at her ex?

Or maybe the peppermint schnapps was stronger than she’d realized. Her pussy was throbbing something fierce. Was this the era of her life where she went and bought a bunch of sex toys? That seemed good. Who needs dick, anyway?

As the thought of growing her sex toy collection instead of her and her ex’s joint bank account sent hot arousal through her, Ruth officially hit the point of overheating and threw her covers off.

And then saw the strangest thing. Sprouting from between her legs was a life-size peppermint swirl candy cane dildo.

“What the…”

Ready to prove it an illusion or examine it closer, Ruth grabbed the end of the strange apparition and tugged, only to moan as pleasure zinged through her entire body. Touching the candy cane dick felt like how she could only imagine actually having a dick felt.

Ruth blinked rapidly, scanning her room for any sign that she might be dreaming. But as far as she was aware, she hadn’t fallen asleep. That was how dreams usually worked though, right? Except she could still remember her day, the shop and the…

Wait, did the old woman brew her moonshine with LSD or something?

Ruth turned and stared at the knit Obbie, half expecting it to blink at her. “Do you know anything about this? What’s going on?”

Knit Obbie was as silent—if cheerfully—as ever.

Needy throbbing turned Ruth’s attention back to the candy cane cock.

Tentatively, she reached for it again. Pleasure zinged up its length, sending her heart racing and her chest heaving.

“Ooooh boy. This is, uh… this is a good trip, right?”

Knit Obbie offered no response, but it was hard to feel apprehensive in his cheerful presence. If she was dreaming it was a non-issue, and even if she wasn’t… it wasn’t like she could un-chug the moonshine. Or, well, she could maybe call 911 and tell them that she’d eaten something, but…

Her hand drifted down to the base of the candy cane cock. It felt so fucking good. Not as intense as when she played with her clit, but she could feel every little touch along the length…

Ruth gave herself a couple experimental strokes and she shuddered. This was fine. She was fine. This was either a very good dream or a very good trip, and she didn’t care much either way.

Ruth quickly found a rhythm with the candy cane cock that had her moaning and bucking her hips. Then she felt something inside the cock, a pulsing heat and tingling cold down the entire length, the sense of squeezing and dripping… and then something thick and white oozed out of the tip of the candy cane cock.

Ruth paused, curiosity briefly overwhelming arousal. She swiped a finger over her tip, shuddering at the sensation, then put it on her tongue.

It was icing. Peppermint icing.

She turned to glare at knit Obbie. “You’ve got to be shitting me. What the fuck is this?”

The candy cane cock throbbed, and Ruth’s hips bucked, sliding the cock through her hand again and sending pleasure sparking out from the base. Ruth moaned. “Okay, fine, this is really fucking hot, is what this is…”

Ruth indulged, and no matter what she tried with the candy cane cock, it felt amazing. Pre-orgasmic ripples of pleasure sent more icing dripping from her tip, which she licked off her fingers.

Slowly, Ruth’s arousal built, and she could feel the familiar-yet-different edge, right there.

She’d better cum and get to bed… why exactly? She didn’t have work the next day. In fact, she had all night and nobody to bother her.

Ruth bit her lip, squirming with pleasure, forcing her hands to stay off the candy cane cock as icing dribbled down its length and she backed down from the edge. 

Then she resumed her luxuriant attentions, stroking and moaning, working up quite the sweat.

“Not so cold and lonely anymore,” she muttered to the knit Obbie as she teetered on the edge a second time.

This time as her hand found the shaft, every movement tingled with orgasmic pleasure. “Oh fuck… Obbie, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop this time…” Her hips bucked reflexively into her hands as she fucked the air, ribbons of icing already oozing out. Her breath quickened. “I can’t fucking stop… oh fuck… fuck!” Ruth’s thrusting hips lit some kind of new fire in her core as every muscle in her body clenched. A pulse of pleasure radiated from her base and then the candy cane cock erupted, huge arcs of warm icing hanging in the air and then spattering down around her.

“Ohhhh fuck…” Relaxation spread through Ruth’s limbs as she stopped bucking but still stroked gently. As she caught her breath, she expected sensitivity to overtake her, but it was actually the heat of greater pleasure that she found.

“Oh Obbie, I’m gonna… again… yes… fuck…. Oh!” Another climax thundered through her, even more intense than the first. And just when she thought she was spent, it happened again, a third wave of rhythmic ecstasy, showering her with yet more peppermint icing.

Finally, Ruth collapsed back into the bed, both hands at her sides but still cumming, little pulses of icing still oozing out of the candy cane cock.

Ruth scooped a handful of peppermint icing from her stomach and pressed her fingers deep into her mouth. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

As she shifted to scoop up more, the candy cane cock fell next to her on the bed, as if it had never been attached to her at all. She picked it up and licked the icing off the end—and found that it was, indeed, made of candy cane. Ruth wasn’t quite sure of why, but she giggled at that.

She licked up a few more handfuls of icing, then settled back into her bed. Whether it was a dream or drugs or actual magic that would result in her having to do a lot of laundry tomorrow, Ruth didn’t care much.

She sighed happily. “Happy fucking Christmas to me.”

Then, she added, “And happy solstice to you, Obsidian…”

And as her eyes drifted shut, too heavy to keep open any longer, she would have sworn the knit cat’s eyes glowed golden for an instant as the sound of purring brushed by her feet.


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Christmas Dinner (Part III)

Continued from Part II


From the hallway Elden called, “And for dessert, we have…”

With a soft creak, Elden wheeled the serving cart into the dining room.

In the center of an oversized silver platter lay Rosie, on her back and utterly naked, trussed up with cotton twine—legs folded and spread, ankles bound together, arms tucked and bound by her sides, breasts tied together so that they shone upwards—like the prettiest Christmas turkey.

She wore a ring gag, her head tipped back on the platter, her brown eyes dilated to a shining black.

A slick sheen surrounded her on the serving tray—none other than the juices from her puffy, glistening cunt. While the guests had been struggling through their last course, Rosie had already been trussed up and marinating in the kitchen.

And now she was hot, wet, and ready, quivering with excitement.

The two men closest to the door—the ones who’d been debating the best way to cut a cigar, and the founding members of the club—stood suddenly. Their chairs went clattering and would have fallen, if not for a wisp of Elden’s magic.

Elden wheeled Rosie to the end of the table, the room silent except for the crackle of the fire and the quickening of breath.

“W-what is the meaning of this?” said one of the men at the end of the table, with a golden pocket square and curled mustache.

“Oh fuck,” moaned the man who’d been surreptitiously stroking himself under the table.

“I’m taking seconds,” breathed the woman seated at the middle of the table.

“Good friends, p-please,” said the man with the golden pocket square. “This is h-highly unprofessional…” His cock strained mightily against the front of his trousers, a wet spot spreading from the tip.

Elden smiled warmly at them, as if he’d brought out nothing more scandalous than a pumpkin pie. “There’s plenty for everyone, I assure you,” he said to the woman in the middle of the table. Then, to everyone, “You know the manners. Take your portion and pass, please.”

The silver tray slid onto the now-empty table, aligning Rosie’s mouth with the bulge of the man with the golden pocket square, and her cunt with the other founder.

He hadn’t said anything since Elden had wheeled Rosie in, and he now stared at her quivering breasts as his hips rocked slowly, rubbing his bulge against the table.

Tension thickened in the air, as ten desperate guests looked towards their de-facto leaders for whether they were allowed to break decorum. The man who’d been stroking himself edged, but brought himself to a quivering halt, not wanting to be the first to ‘break the seal’, so to speak. The woman in the middle of the table was now quite certain that this was a dream and so didn’t see any reason to hold off.

But they all looked to the two trembling men at the end of the table, who seemed frozen in place.

The only one moving was Rosie, who trembled and wriggled with desire to free both cocks. Her pleas turned to moans around the ring gag as another gush of juices joined the puddle in the serving tray. She wanted nothing more than to be spit-roasted like the holiday meal she so closely resembled.

It was for her benefit that Elden let the moment drag on so long. He would not let the Convention claim that he had not rendered adequate punishment. He could leave out the part about her enjoying it.

Finally, Elden said, “Please, honored guests. This is a cherished Christmas tradition of our culture. Your enthusiastic participation would be most honoring.”

“W-when you put it that way,” said the man who had been humping the table as he promptly dropped his trousers and freed his throbbing length. He plunged it into Rosie’s cunt, and they both moaned with the ecstasy of relief.

Still, the man with the gold pocket square hesitated. 

“Now, be very honest,” Elden said to him, magic weaving into his words. “Do you want this?”

“Fuck, yes,” breathed the man.

“Why do you hesitate?”

“It j-just seems so… so… crass.”

“Ah!” said Elden. “But of course. I may as well have asked you to take your own coat off, good sir.” Elden’s slender fingers hovered over the man’s belt buckles. “May I?”

The man nodded with as much dignity as he could muster while his friend pounded into Rosie.

Elden was in no hurry as he carefully undid the man’s belt, slipping it out of the loops and drawing a deep shudder, carefully placing it over the back of the chair and then slowly undoing each trouser button.

The man’s decorum melted with each touch until his throbbing cock rested naked on Elden’s fingers, and the elf guided it into Rosie’s mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Elden said, trailing a finger down Rosie’s breast before giving her nipple a light pinch. “She doesn’t need to breathe much.”

The last few threads of the man’s will snapped as his hips bucked of their own accord, driving his cock deep into Rosie’s hot throat. She gulped and swallowed around him, desperate for his release, heedless of a mortal’s need for oxygen.

And so the two founding members fucked Rosie onto each others’ cocks, moans quickly reaching a fever pitch.

Those anxious for their turns did not have to wait long, as the vice grip of Rosie’s cunt and the greedy pressure of her tongue soon rewarded her. As the co-founder gave one last thrust before he burst, Rosie sucked the other over the edge.

They had barely slumped into their chairs before the next pair of men grabbed the platter and pulled her onto their waiting cocks.

The man who had started stroking under the table had now edged two more times and was openly masturbating, leaning against the table with one hand and pumping with the other. “H-hurry the fuck up,” he growled.

Elden appeared at his shoulder. “Come now,” he crooned. “There’s no rush. Wouldn’t she look lovely basted? You’ll have plenty more to give.”

“Oh fuck, you’re right. I’m s-so… s-so… oh fuck, here it comes!” The man’s whole body stiffened as he erupted across Rosie’s leg, stomach, and breasts—far, far more than should have been possible.

In the doses usually administered, the supernatural effects of the Valentines Day concoction were subtle, but at these doses there was no hiding it, especially as the man hardly slowed his stroking.

“Fuck, I’ve never cum that hard…” The man kept moaning as his slicked hand slid easily over his shaft. “And I think I might… I think I’m gonna cum again… I’m gonna, I’m gonna!” The man’s eyes rolled back as he fucked through his hand and showered Rosie with another equally thick orgasm. This time, his stroking slowed, though his cock still throbbed and dripped.

“H-holy shit, Chuck, where did that come from?” said the woman across from him, who was rubbing her breasts through her shirt, her suit coat already haphazardly slung over the back of her chair, as her own wetness ran down her leg.

“I d-don’t fucking know,” he said, “But fuck it felt good…”

The man at Rosie’s mouth groaned and came down her throat, her chest bobbing with every swallow. 

The woman wasted no time kicking off her trousers and hauling the end of the platter with Rosie’s head towards herself, even though the man at Rosie’s cunt wasn’t done yet. The woman clambered up onto the table, and dropped her sopping cunt onto Rosie’s face, earning a delighted moan from Rosie.

“Fuck!” said the man at her cunt. “T-that’s making her squeeze so tight, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” His legs nearly dropped out from under him as he pumped into Rosie.

The woman riding Rosie’s face smirked. “All these greedy men, and you haven’t cum yet, have you sweetie? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Before the man who’d basted Rosie could take his position, the woman buried her fingers into Rosie’s cunt and reached around to find Rosie’s spot.

Rosie screamed with delight, as the man who’d basted her looked up incredulously.

“It’s my turn,” he said to the woman.

She rocked her hips against Rosie’s face. “Is it? You just came. Twice. So I think that means I get both holes now. Unless this little cutie likes it in the ass…” The woman looked back at Rosie.

Rosie nodded emphatically into the woman’s cunt.

“Well there you go.” The woman pulled hard on Rosie’s spot and Rosie moaned, tucking her hips to give easier access to her ass. With her legs so nicely trussed and spread, it was an easy thing.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” said the man, and he plunged inside.

Rosie’s moans escalated to smothered screams as the woman worked her cunt and the man pounded her ass. Rosie gushed around the woman’s hand, splattering the man’s hips.

“I-is she cumming?” he asked.

The woman chuckled. “Oh, when she cums, you won’t have to ask.”

As if on cue, Rosie’s breathing quickened and then hitched into one long, high scream as she squirted even harder, cunt and ass clenching with the waves of her climax.

“Fuck!” the man said, slamming one last time into Rosie’s ass. He emptied with a few clenches of his ass, even as Rosie kept cumming around him. “I-it’s like she’s m-milking me…”

The woman’s breathing quickened too. “Th-that’s right cutie, fucking milk that ba— ah… Ohhhh fuck!” She trembled through her own pulsing orgasm, and would have fallen off the table if Elden hadn’t been there to catch her and lower her into her chair.

As the next pair of men claimed Rosie’s throat and ass, the following pair were struck with that particular creativity that comes from being overwhelmingly horny, and found angles that let them fuck Rosie’s tits and cunt respectively.

That left only the man and woman who were closest to the fire, and who were now already entirely naked, due to the sweltering heat both within and without. They were both still in their seats, the woman with her fingers buried in her cunt and the man stroking his dripping cock, contemplating what they would do on their turn.

Hardly four thrusts in, the man at Rosie’s throat grunted and stiffened. The one sliding between her tits smirked. “Losing it already?”

“N-no,” he said, pulling out as if to prove it, but his cock throbbed and oozed from the ruined orgasm. Two more strokes with his hand had him erupting all over Rosie’s face. Instead of slumping back, he slid his still-dripping cock down her throat. “Fuck, I need more…”

One by one, the four men fucking Rosie finished (or finished again), moaning and emptying, filling and coating Rosie with another layer of cum.

As the platter slid to the end of the table, directly in front of the final man and woman, they were each hard pressed to part their hands from their throbbing genitals. So they didn’t, and the man buried his face in Rosie’s cunt while the woman cupped a breast for Rosie to suck on.

Meanwhile, the founders found themselves craving another round and stood at the end of the table, soon basting Rosie with their own prodigious contributions.

The sight and sound pushed the last two over the edge, the man bathing the floor and the woman soaking her chair.

Though that was hardly the end of it. True to Elden’s promise, they each had seconds and thirds and fourths or more. The platter filled with jubilant juices, and Rosie was thoroughly glazed with them. As the haze of urgency gave way to merry fucking, the two women took bets on who and how Rosie would cum again, and the men did their best to prove their prowess.

They milked another pulsing, gushing orgasm from her with a cock down her throat, a cock up her ass, fingers in her cunt, and a mouth at each breast. Her muffled screams of ecstasy filled the festive dining room as her juices filled the serving tray to nearly overflowing.

One by one, each guest succumbed to exhaustion, and Elden returned them to their spot at the table to slumber peacefully.

The last one standing—or, more accurately, sitting in his chair, head in his hand, too tired to stand but too horny to stop stroking himself—was the man who’d been first to stroke himself under the table and who had consumed the most of the magicked wine.

Rosie caught her breath, still trussed and juiced on the table, as Elden conjured himself a clean chair so that he could sit next to the last guest.

“And how are you feeling?” Elden asked.

“S-still so fucking horny…” he said. Indeed, his cock was dripping and had been for some time, forming a growing puddle at his feet. He stroked desperately, but his exhausted arm couldn’t provide enough stimulation.

“Put your arm down,” Elden said.

The man obeyed, though his hips bucked reflexively.

“Look into my eyes,” Elden said. “Focus.”

The man did so.

Elden’s eyes gleamed with magic. “Let it all out. Every last drop.”

Heat rushed over the man’s body and he relaxed, even as his cock twitched. His hands stayed limp at his side. “O-okay… yeah… oh yeah… fuck…”

With a quiet sigh of relief, the man’s twitching cock erupted another two orgasm’s worth of cum onto the floor between his feet, working out the last of the aphrodisiac and finally releasing him into peaceful slumber.


Continued in Part IV

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Cutie Cumpire Gets Sextual


To Nora, watching human men cum all over the place was a bit like watching the Great British Baking Show. It was entertaining, appetizing, and a bit torturous. She could easily imagine the humans drooling after the thousand-layer pastries and fresh ground lavender rose compote that they could never have, just like she drooled after cumshots on Reddit.

Tinder was decent for snacks here and there, but at this rate she was always going to have to supplement with cow’s blood—that is, if she didn’t crack and suck one of those dumb jocks dry. The high would be amazing. The subsequent life in prison would not be so great.

And if she were being honest, the slut-shaming from humans didn’t bother her that much. It was the slut-shaming from other vampires that got under her skin. Even though all the medical journals agreed that cum was significantly more nutritious than blood, many vampires insisted that it was ‘not a great look’ and ‘poor optics’ and only for ‘sicko fetishists who were desperate to feed on humans’.

So what if she liked something fresh and hot and direct from the source? Sucking cum didn’t hurt anyone! Quite the opposite. So Nora got what she could from Tinder and tortured herself watching videos in the meantime.

Nothing had been more torturous than justsumdude. The sheer volume was… it made her drool almost as much as he came. And made her wet in other places, too.

And he seemed… nice. As much as one could tell from a couple cumshot videos on the internet. He was expressive, and when he talked, it was just… raw. Honest. Not cringey or porny.

And he liked her pictures! Not like that was any surprise, but… it felt good. While she would be the first to insist that there were plenty of people who were both horny and well-adjusted, she had to admit that there were certainly also a lot of horny people who were not so well adjusted, and those were the ones that tended to end up in her DMs.

Nora was scrolling r/TrampsforVamps, a vampire/sex-worker mutual support group, when the notification came through.

justsumdude: Hey, I’m really sorry if this is crossing a line to DM you, but I wanted to make sure it was OK with you first before I posted this video. If you’d rather I don’t post it, that’s no problem. And if you want me to delete it, I promise I will, no backups and no questions asked.

Nora’s heart jumped up into her throat as she clicked on the link. Just what had he recorded?

The video was fifteen minutes long and Nora made it exactly five minutes and thirty seven seconds before her hand was down the front of her pants. Fucking hell this was hot. She was ready to cum when he was, but with seven minutes left in the video, he must be edging and she forced herself to do the same.

And it was worth it.

Satan’s tits it was worth it.

When he flipped to the final tab, the words Show me how much you’d cum on these cutie tits bold across the screen, she’d never been so turned on. And as his cum burst across the screen, across her, that arousal hit a new high. And as he slowed to a steady drip and she stared at the puddle he’d made of the keyboard, Nora came harder than she ever had before.

At her desk in her room, with her door wide open, and her roommate due back from the gym at any time.

Nora snatched her hands out of her panties and danced over to close and lock the door just as the front door rattled open. She returned to her desk and pulled out her phone, looking for a good angle. She snapped a few pics, grinned eagerly at the result, and then replied.

cutiecumpire69xxx: You’re so sweet! And hot. Fucking hell. Post that shit. Want to see what it did to me?

Normally, Nora would have tabbed away and done something else, but she was giddy and eager and figured it couldn’t hurt to wait for a couple of minutes. She chewed on her thumb and her eyes went blurry as she fantasized about all that cum on her tits. She’d nearly decided to start masturbating again when his reply appeared.

justsumdude: 
Sorry for the delay, was just making dinner. 
And sorry if that sounds like bragging 
and yes 
yes please

Nora snorted and smiled. What a dork, in the cutest possible way.

She sent a link to the first picture, a selfie that showed the bottom half of her open mouth, her long tongue unfurled and dripping a string of drool down to join the puddle between her breasts.

cutiecumpire69xxx: You made me drool. A lot.

And then the second picture, one from under her desk with her legs spread, her skirt pulled up, and her panties pulled to the side, strings of her slick stretching between the fabric and her swollen vulva.

cutiecumpire69xxx: In more ways that one.

If you had told Nora five years ago that she’d be casually sending pictures of her sopping pussy to strangers on the internet, she would have slapped you, then run off and cried.

But a lot could change in five years. Mostly, Nora was sick of making herself small and polite so that shitty people could feel better about themselves.

A minute passed without a reply, which usually meant that the guy was already fapping. But Nora ventured a guess that justsumdude was overthinking this and she would get another preciously awkward reply in about two more minutes.

Sure enough…

justsumdude: 
You’ll have to fill me in on how consent works with sexting 
you are incredibly attractive

Nora giggled and bit her lip.

cutiecumpire69xxx: 
ur such a nerd 
I like it 
I enthusiastically consent to you telling me how hard ur dick is 😉

justsumdude: want to see?

cutiecumpire69xxx: yes!

The link appeared a moment later, and she tapped eagerly. A string of pre-cum stretched between his tip and his outstretched finger.

cutiecumpire69xxx: fuck, i want to suck that out of you

A minute later, another link. A short video of him erupting in his hand, making an absolute mess of his chest and stomach. Nora watched it three times. She’d never ever seen anyone cum so much, and she was practically a cum shot sommelier.

justsumdude: It would certainly help with clean-up

cutiecumpire69xxx: how do u even clean up normally? lmao

justsumdude: Uh, I do a lot of laundry

Nora snickered.

cutiecumpire69xxx: that doesn’t sound very eco-friendly.

justsumdude: There’s a smooth pick-up line, ‘come suck my dick, save the whales!’

cutiecumpire69xxx: Twist my arm. 😉

He didn’t reply right away, so she added, You have a snapchat? it’s easier for pics. if u give me your un I’ll add you, mine’s the same as on reddit so I don’t usually accept requests

That got a quicker reply. Oh yeah sure, one sec

Nora grinned, guessing that he was making an account. Especially when two minutes later, he replied, Mine’s same as Reddit too

Sure enough, his account was brand new.

cutiecumpire69xxx: so what’s next for you tonight after cleaning up that massive cumshot?

While the typing bubble bounced, Nora chewed on her thumb. Most guys kept things sexual at this point, like ‘dreaming of u, bb’, as if she might forget they had a dick if they didn’t remind her every two seconds. Or they’d ghost, and message again as soon as they were horny again.

justsumdude: To be perfectly honest? binge watching great british bake off. and then utterly failing to make macarons.

A different kind of heat than arousal curled in Nora’s stomach, rising to her cheeks and spreading her lips in the kind of dumb smile she’d have a hard time wiping off her face.

cutiecumpire69xxx: You bake?

justsumdude: Well, I try to. hbu?

Nora checked her watch.

cutiecumpire69xxx: I have a yoga class in like 30 mins and actually I should head out in a sec. but it’s been really nice to chat! msg me anytime 🙂

justsumdude: okay, yeah. same 🙂

She chewed on her thumb again, then decided—she could trust her gut.

cutiecumpire69xxx: My name is Nora, by the way. But I like it when u call me cutie 😉

justsumdude: I’m Jasper

cutiecumpire69xxx: ttys, Jasper 😉


Jasper sent pictures of his macaron attempts. Two hours later, Nora replied with affirmations that they looked macarony to her. He asked how yoga was, and she sent a picture of her sweating through her yoga leggings. Jasper affirmed that it looked like she’d gotten a good workout, and then realized that he’d missed the hint as she followed up with a picture of her bare breasts. He sent back a short video of his cock throbbing to full attention, and she sent an audio clip of her desperate moaning.

Jasper filmed himself exploding on the dark tile of his shower again, and Nora replied with a picture of her soaked panties.

And then somehow fifteen minutes later they were discussing the finer points of inventory management in Borderlands 3.

Jasper had never found it so easy to talk to someone. And it seemed to be at least somewhat reciprocal, because they talked nearly non-stop for the next week. He told her about his math degree and his current job as a data scientist, she shared that she was in sales but looking for a new job. They talked about pets and first kisses and bucket list items and where they wanted to go on vacation. Nora vented about the frustrations of being a modern vampire, and Jasper finally got to say, “I’m sorry people are so shit”.

And then came a message that Jasper had not at all expected.

Nora: Hey… I know this is kind of fast, but… I’d REALLY love to meet you in person. Would you want to at all?

His heart thudded in his throat.

Jasper: yeah, I’d really like that too! I’m in the Townsville area, hbu?

Nora: ur shitting me

Jasper panicked. But why? Why was he panicking? What had he said wrong? Why couldn’t he form a normal human response?

Nora: I just moved to Townsville!!!

Jasper: Wait, srsly?!

Nora: Yes!

Jasper forced himself to breathe. He knew what he needed to do. He’d asked girls out before. He could do this.

Jasper: How about dinner thurs?

That gave him almost a week to get ready.

Nora: Dinner already? 😉 Forward of you! I like it!

Jasper stared at his phone like a deer in the headlights. Idiot, idiot! He’d meant, like, hamburgers. Dinner with Nora would be… the memory of the message flashed behind his eyes, fuck, i want to suck you dry…

Jasper gulped. It was probably better to roll with this than to admit to being an insensitive idiot. And now he had to think quickly. First dates with random strangers from the internet were supposed to be in well-lit public locations. So he just needed a well-lit public location where she could suck the cum out of him.

He started typing do you drink— and then thought better of it and flipped open a new tab to search, ‘do vampires drink alcohol’. The consensus was ‘yes, very’. Jasper almost clicked down a rabbit hole about second-hand inebriation from drinking the blood of drunk people, but he forced himself to focus.

Jasper: There’s a bar downtown with a good bathroom for hooking up. We can do something else or cancel whenever if you want, no worries, no questions asked

Nora: send me the address, I’m excited!

He did, and they confirmed the time.

Nora: great, it’s a date!


To be continued…

Jasper and Nora were first introduced in the standalone short, Cutie Cumpire Goes to the Movies.

You can find all of the Cutie Cumpire stories at Cutie Cumpire Story Index


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Part 6: Denoument, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 47: A Stretch

It had been a week, and so far the whole thing hadn’t come crashing down yet. They got dinner together before work. They found each other instead of the break room.

And Tanyth had invited Linza and Grun over to their apartment to spend the weekend. The apartment was a bit larger than Linza’s, though still much smaller than Wyn’s residence. 

Tanyth’s decorating style was bohemian and trendy, full of colorful and earthy waves, intermingled with brass fittings.

Their bedroom was simple, just a mattress on the floor, piled with quilts and tufted pillows and scraps of fur. Grun lay there, arms behind his head, grinning, erection standing at attention. Linza reclined next to him, reflecting his calm anticipation.

Tanyth was already a panting mess. They were stroking themselves and had been warming up with not one, not two, but three dildos in successively wider girths.

“You said you’ve been practicing all week?” Linza crooned.

“Yes!” Tanyth gasped.

“Do you get this hot and bothered each time?”

“Y-yes, of c-course I do!”

There was something about Tanyth that when they played with their ass they got in a more feminine mood. 

That was hardly the rule—there were plenty of people who remained clearly dominant even when they were technically on the receiving end. Just, Tanyth wasn’t one of them.

They gasped and moaned as they worked the largest of the dildos in and out again. It was almost as thick as Grun. Almost.

“O-okay… okay, are you ready?” Tanyth said.

“Ready when you are,” Grun said.

“F-fuck, I’m ready,” Tanyth said.

Grun slicked his shaft with lubricant, moaning indulgently.

Tanyth finally pulled the dildo out with a sigh and a pop and they set it aside and came over to Grun.

Grun stroked himself.

They watched, eyes following his hand. “I am so fucking ready,” they breathed.

“Then hop on board,” Grun said.

They aligned themselves over Grun, and then carefully lowered.

Significant consideration had gone into this aspect, and Tanyth had decided that this would be the best way for them to set the pace, especially since it was how they often played with their dildos.

Tanyth’s rim met Grun’s tip, and their eyes fluttered. They stroked themselves with one hand and spread themselves with the other.

They moaned, and then Grun’s tip was inside. “F-fuck!” Tanyth gasped. “Fuck that’s good…”

Linza pressed her legs together, enjoying her mounting arousal. She liked to let it build until she couldn’t take it anymore. But she still had a ways to go. As did Tanyth.

Tanyth lowered themselves a little farther. They groaned deeply. Lifted themselves, then settled a bit more. Grun’s shaft had a slight curve to it and was thickest in the middle, and that was where the girth would be larger than Tanyth’s toy.

“Fuck, Linza! How do you take this whole thing?”

Linza grinned smugly. “I just want it that bad, I guess.”

“I want it!” Tanyth said. Their legs shook, already tiring. “Nnngh maybe I shouldn’t have taken so long getting warmed up…”

“Just sit back and relax,” Grun teased.

“I c-can’t! You’re so big!”

Grun smirked. “Remember, you’re going to have to use your safe word if it’s actually too much, because I think I’d quite like to see you slide right down and pop.”

Tanyth gasped, succumbing to the arousal. They slowed their stroking then lifted and resettled themselves again. “My legs are tired but… but you’re so big I c-can’t…” Tanyth slid further than they had before, not coming up again. They tried to push themselves up, but their legs just trembled. “I c-can’t…”

Now, Linza’s own arousal could not remain untended. She eagerly brought her fingers to her sex and her other hand to a breast.

Tanyth panted. They stroked themselves slowly. “I d-don’t know if I can t-take you without coming…”

“Only one way to find out, hm?” Grun’s cheeks were flushed red, his voice husky. He was doing his best to maintain a cool demeanor, and it was imperative that he not give into the temptation to buck his hips. But the slow, slow progress of the heat enveloping him must have been torture.

“You feel so good,” Tanyth groaned, slipping down further. They stroked faster, unable to contain themselves any longer, even if it meant sabotaging their goal. As that built their arousal, they relaxed even further, and slid down faster.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Tanyth moaned and quivered as they finally stretched to accomodate Grun’s full girth, and their ass landed on Grun’s balls. They pressed both their hands flat against Grun’s stomach. Tanyth shivered, clear pre-cum leaking from their tip. They held their breath, then took long, slow breaths as their shaft twitched and dripped pre-cum. “Fuck, that was close…”

Grun also breathed deeply, calming himself.

Linza shivered, remembering the sensation of Grun inside of her, reaching her fingers inside of herself to curl around to her spot.

Tanyth’s breathing didn’t taper off. It stayed deep, slow, deliberate. They kept both hands flat on Grun’s stomach. “F-fuck I’m still so close… it’s not… I’m not… you’re so big!”

“H-how does it feel?” Grun said.

“It feels so good! Fuck it feels so good!” Tanyth quivered, their tip dripping again. “I don’t know what to… I don’t want to stop but… I’m gonna come if…”

Grun swallowed. “I’m not gonna be able to sit still for much longer, especially with you squeezing me like that.”

“That’s okay… I think you can… you can definitely…”

“Once I start I cannot stop,” Grun growled.

“Fuck me!” Tanyth gasped. “Fuck me, please!”

Grun’s hips bucked, and Tanyth screamed with delight. The lubricant allowed Grun to slide in and out easily, even despite Tanyth’s desperate clenching. Grun put his hands to their waist and held them steady, bucking up into them.

Tanyth’s eyes nearly rolled back into their head. “You feel so fucking good!” Even without a hand at their shaft, they hurtled over the edge, spurting cum onto Grun’s stomach.

The tight, rhythmic contractions of Tanyth’s orgasm pulled Grun into his own climax. He growled and pressed up into Tanyth one last time, shaking as he pumped his load into the little half-elf, holding them hard against his base.

“Oh fuck,” Tanyth breathed, “I can feel you… filling me…” Their own shaft still dripped on Grun’s stomach.

Finally, they stilled.

Grun let himself drift off into a dreamy repose, more so to ensure that his shaft softened than because he was actually exhausted.

Tanyth waited patiently, afterglow buoyed by the lingering, fulfilling girth of the half-orc, until Grun had waned enough that Tanyth could withdraw. Tanyth teetered and collapsed onto a balled-up quilt in a puddle of bliss.

Linza was on her own edge, but she had opted to fully enjoy the spectacle of her two lovers. She had built a most delicious arousal, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do with it.

As Grun stirred towards her, she straddled his face.

She paused there a moment. His eyes pleaded up at her. Yes, please.

She sank onto his face.

He lapped at her greedily. 

It didn’t take long. 

She would have sworn she came three times, once for each of them. 

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Part 5: Triangle, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 46: Proposition

Linza had requested to borrow the madame’s private area of the veranda, the same place that she had first met Grun, and the madame had obliged with a knowing smile.

Linza had arrived a bit early, wanting to be sure to be there first, and also too nervous to do much of anything else.

The sun-warmed breezes of the ocean rippled over the veranda and through her hair. That was much of why she’d wanted to do it here. The sun and the ocean lent her their expansive calm.

Had the day been stormy, she would have taken it as an omen and called off the whole thing. She still found herself ever so slightly wishing that a sudden squall might overtake the blueness of the sky and release her from what she was about to do. 

But just as the estate had no such rule against staff relationships, the sky did no such thing.

Tanyth arrived first. They wore a violet suit, their hair braided down and around one shoulder, strands loosed from the edges to frame their face. Linza suspected they had tapped into their masculine energies for assertiveness.

They looked more cheerful than Linza had expected, which either meant that they had not inferred her true purpose or that they had become much better at lying.

“Linza!” they said as they waved. They came to sit across from her, leaning back in their chair and looking unbothered. “I’ve missed you, this past week.”

“I had a lot of thinking to do,” she said.

“Did you reach any conclusions?” Their facade wavered. Despite their best efforts, they looked very interested in her response.

She hesitated, hoping that at least one element of the day’s timing would work in her favor. 

It did. Tanyth turned towards the sound of the door opening and to the sight of Grun ducking under the doorway, which did not admit his full height. He wore tailored trousers and no shirt, his hair caught up in a bun.

They looked at each other.

Then they looked at Linza.

Linza waved Grun over to sit down.

Tanyth’s facade slipped another inch, and they looked concerned. “I didn’t realize this was…”

Grun grinned smugly and folded his arms as he sat. He dwarfed the little chair, just like he dwarfed Tanyth. “I daresay that’s the point.”

“You know what’s happening?” Tanyth said.

“I reckon we are about to hear a verdict,” Grun said.

“A verdict? What about?”

“Well, she can’t very well tell us if you’re prattling, can she?” Grun met Linza’s eyes. It was a challenge. She held his gaze.

Tanyth glanced nervously between them.

Linza took a deep breath. She was regretting her decision to be sober for this. “What’s happening is… you’re on a date.”

“A date?!” Tanyth said. “Is someone— doesn’t that mean that someone—”

Grun still looked at her with his even eyes, his slight smile. He seemed to already understand.

“All three of us,” Linza said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Like a competition?” Tanyth squeaked.

Grun laughed. “If it were a competition, you wouldn’t be here at all, little bird.”

Linza was nearly offended on Tanyth’s behalf, but Tanyth just looked startled. They were all request and no command. In any contest, Grun would dominate, it was true.

And that was the exact thing that Linza had been struggling with. If she put forward an ultimatum to the two of them, she knew that no matter what she asked, no matter what she clarified, Grun by his nature would seize the prize. Tanyth, by their nature, would defer.

It would be an experiment that undermined its goal by its very design.

Her primary mistake had been looking to a competitive evaluation for answers.

Linza cleared her throat. 

They both looked at her.

“We, all three of us, are here to go on a date with each other. To see… if we all get along. Together. The three of us.”

Grun’s grin deepened.

Tanyth pressed their fingers to their lips. “I’m still not quite sure I…”

Grun reached over and cupped Tanyth’s cheek in his hand. Tanyth’s hand fell to the table and their eyes turned fully up into Grun’s.

“I believe,” Grun said, “that the lady is asking if we can get along. Do you think we can get along?”

Tanyth nodded emphatically.

Grun leaned down and kissed them tenderly. They melted into his embrace.

Linza’s heart raced. This was all going so very much faster than she had expected. Was Grun mocking her? Yet, would she really have invited him here if she thought he would?

He broke the kiss after a moment, and Tanyth hung upon him.

He looked to Linza. “Now, I am sure you are making some very scientific observations,” Grun said.

Linza nodded.

“How do you feel? Jealous? Excited?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Hm, that means the experiment must continue.”

“Does the experiment continuing mean you’re going to kiss me again?” Tanyth said.

“Only if you want me to,” Grun said.

Tanyth threw their arms around Grun’s neck and pulled themselves up into him.

Grun caught their waist and pulled them close.

Linza was feeling very good about her decision to ask to borrow the private veranda.

Grun had been right that she was too quick to defer to another’s happiness. But what had halted her every attempt to follow his advice was that, in the end, there was not so crisp a line between others’ happiness and her own. She was right to cut out abuse from her life, and she would do better at it.

But she was also right to take Grun’s words and find her own way.

Because holy shit was this turning her on.

Tanyth was floating, basking in the glow of attentions finally requited.

Grun was hungry yet tender, his erection already throbbing under his trousers. Whether he did it for her enjoyment or Tanyth’s or for theirs both, Linza did not quite know or care. All her cares evaporated in the growing heat between the three of them.

It was Tanyth who broke the kiss next. They cupped Grun’s cheeks in their small hands and smoothed the edges of his beard. “This is… just yes… but I have to…”

They had the demeanor of a drunk needing a stop in the wash room, especially as they extricated themselves from Grun’s arms and stumbled onto the veranda. But then they threw themselves into Linza’s arms and pressed their lips against hers. 

Linza’s butterflies exploded into flight. It was the sudden vent of wants left unsaid, the snapping of a leash and the rush of freedom.

To want, to crave, to hold, to heal.

Her selfish wish was that a selfless affection could flow between the three of them.

Grun came up around behind her, kissing her hair, her cheek. His lips on her neck, her shoulder.

Her wish came true.

Tanyth tucked their cheek against hers and she nestled into their neck, kissing them there.

“W-where there any s-stipulations on the use of the veranda?” Tanyth asked.

Grun’s hands found Linza’s breasts as his tongue traced the curve from the tip of her shoulder to her temple.

Linza moaned. “We have it for the hour.”

“Always so prepared,” Grun said, tipping her head back with his hand and kissing her again.

Tanyth stood and hastily kicked off their trousers, nearly tripping as they did.

Linza giggled through the kiss, and Grun pressed into her even more fiercely.

His hand pressed between her legs, and she moaned.

Tanyth’s hands found their shaft as they considered their options.

Linza wiggled and Grun leaned back, allowing her to strip her shirt off over her head and unbutton her skirt.

Grun’s trousers were struggling to contain his massive erection. He unbuttoned them and sighed with relief as he freed his member to Linza’s eager affections.

She could fit little more than the head of his shaft in her mouth, though Grun didn’t seem to mind her limits. He groaned happily and his knees shook.

Tanyth came to sit next to her, their hands finding Grun’s balls. “Do you want him inside of you as bad as I do?” Tanyth said.

“Most definitely,” Linza sighed. “But that’s going to take a lot longer than we have here.”

“When in doubt, cock worship?” Tanyth offered.

Linza leaned over and pecked them on the cheek. “You read my mind.”

Any of Grun’s previous machismo vanished as Linza and Tanyth lavished attentions upon him. He quivered and groaned—he gasped and his eyes pleaded.

He eventually ended up back in his chair, Linza and Tanyth kneeling between his legs.

They took turns between his shaft and balls, stroking and licking and moaning.

He shifted, rocking his hips towards them.

Linza broke from his tip for a moment. “Just so you know, he likes a rim job.”

Tanyth’s eyes lit up. They brought their attentions lower. “Ooooh, you took a bath right before this, didn’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” Grun said, “Never hurts to be… nnnngh… prepared…”

Tanyth brought their tongue enthusiastically to Grun’s perineum, licking eagerly.

Linza worked his shaft with both hands and stroked the underside of his head with the flat of her tongue. Already she was treated with another sweet drop of pre-cum.

Tanyth dropped a half an inch lower, and Grun’s voice caught.

Then Tanyth dropped a little lower, and Grun’s moans deepened, his whole body quivering with anticipation.

His shaft throbbed, his pleasure gifting Linza with more pre-cum.

Tanyth dropped a little bit lower.

“F-fuck! T-Tanyth I’m so close… if you get any closer than I’m really gonna… huh…”

Tanyth took that as an invitation to apply their enthusiastic oral attentions directly to Grun’s rim.

Grun’s back arched, he bellowed a moan, and his balls tensed at his base as he catapulted into climax.

Linza swallowed him greedily, the stroking of her tongue pulling even more out of him.

Both she and Tanyth knew how to read him, and they both eased just as pleasure turned to sensitivity.

Grun heaved a full-body sigh and looked up at them, but he seemed more enthused than sated. “Alright, who’s next?”

“Linza, of course!” Tanyth said.

Linza shook her head. “Nope. Tanyth.” She grinned a little wickedly. “I want to see how quickly you can make them pop.”

Grun sat up and dipped his head at Linza. “As you wish.”

Tanyth flushed red, and they trembled with anticipation, their own erection throbbing. “It’s only fair, I couldn’t impose, I—”

Grun dropped to his knees and stood Tanyth up in front of him, then took Tanyth’s entire length into his mouth.

Tanyth’s protests melted into a moan of abject pleasure.

With a practiced rhythm and genuine desire to please, Grun worked over Tanyth’s length.

“F-fuck… this feels like… like fucking it feels… nnngh so gooood…”

Grun tilted his head to wink at Linza.

Her own heart fluttered out of her chest. She dropped back to her chair and kicked off her soaked underwear. Her whole body was thrumming even before she pressed her fingers over her vulva. She gasped at the pleasure.

This spurred Grun on.

That sent Tanyth even deeper into their spiral of bliss, and both of those things together especially fanned Linza’s heat, which escaped in further gasps, and so on.

Round and around, they climbed.

Grun started stroking himself, the moans of his own pleasure mingling with the pressing heat of his mouth as he enveloped Tanyth.

Tanyth anchored their fingers in his hair lest they fall over, and they let Grun push and push them towards climax.

Linza watched them, capturing every curve and angle and note into memory. The arch of Tanyth’s back. Their braid unraveling. Grun’s hand around their hips, fingers reaching fully around one cheek of their ass. The droplets beading and then falling from Grun’s tip, as he slowly stroked himself.

Linza’s own moans deepened. She was getting close.

Within a moment, Tanyth was hanging from the edge, totally at Grun’s mercy.

And then Linza realized. Grun hadn’t really been trying to make Tanyth come as fast as he could, though he had certainly put on a show of it.

What he was really doing was holding Tanyth at the quivering edge as long as he could. Timing it all for Linza. An offer that the three of them might climax together. Simultaneous orgasm was hardly necessary for pleasure, and perhaps a bit overrated. But Linza had to admit, it was really really hot.

The realization of what Grun was doing for her pushed her over the edge as much as the sight of it did.

As she screamed her pleasure, totally forgetting that on the veranda they could not be seen but they certainly could be heard, Grun unfettered his efforts.

As Linza’s mind returned from the brink of sanity to the throbbing waves of pleasure, Tanyth groaned and collapsed over Grun’s head, wrapping their arms around his neck.

Grun swallowed, the ripple of his throat sending another trickle of pleasure down Linza’s spine.

And then Grun came, his moans making Tanyth gasp, his cum in thick white spurts across the wood and Tanyth’s feet.

Tanyth shook, leaning against the table and waiting for their senses and balance to return. They laughed as they saw their feet.

An idea sparked in Linza’s mind, a suggestion from the character of the orcish woman that she had summoned for Grun, and she voiced it.

“If it pleases,” she crooned at him, “Do clean up the mess you’ve made of poor Tanyth.”

The complete deference on Grun’s face astounded Linza as he eagerly bowed and licked his spend off of Tanyth’s feet.

Tanyth gasped, tensing at what might have been ticklish, their shaft throbbing to hardness again.

Linza had intended that Grun might use his shirt or something, but this was way better.

Finally, Grun looked up at her. “Have I pleased?”

“Yes. And we’ll get a rag for the rest. I don’t want you licking the floor, you kiss me with that mouth.”

He seemed to take that as an invitation, surging to his feet, scooping her up, and doing just that, plunging her into the heady musk of his sweat, the bitter taste of his seed on his tongue.

That nearly drove her into another frenzy, except for one thing—she couldn’t quite breathe. Reluctantly, she reluctantly put a hand to his chest. 

He leaned back.

“Okay, okay, I need to catch my breath.” 

He relented, and she folded into his chest.

Those next minutes trickled softly like sand through an hourglass. The ocean whispered. Their hearts slowed. They all silently reflected on what had fallen away, and what still was.

They stirred, then dressed again.

Linza carefully straightened Tanyth’s shirt, her fingers lingering at their waist.

Grun playfully untucked Linza’s shirt, and as she stopped to fix it, he flipped up her skirt and grabbed her ass.

They left the veranda and went for dinner, talking easily and laughing long into the night.

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Part 5: Triangle, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 45: Imagination

The madame had said little more on the topic and Linza hadn’t pressed for more. She’d returned to her apartment earlier in the day than usual and she turned over those words. She was supposed to use her imagination? How?

Everything given probably meant that she was supposed to share how she felt. But she still didn’t know how she felt!

Nothing taken meant to not presume how Tanyth or Grun were feeling, but Linza felt that they’d been pretty clear. She was sure that clarification would help, but she didn’t know what to clarify until she knew how she felt.

Having fun seemed impossible until she sorted this out… but perhaps that was where she was going wrong.

So, she was supposed to have fun and use her imagination.

Well… She could think of one thing that fit that bill, at least.

Feeling a bit uninspired, Linza turned to the offerings of her past self, the growing collection of erotic scenes and story snippets that she’d been working on for the past few months.

Still feeling in an analytical mood, she started by editing a few of the newer pieces. 

Yet the words slipped under the surface of the mind, familiar and yet forgotten as they were, and stirred the same feelings that had inspired them.

Still, she kept to her task. It was a strategy, a like corking wine while it fermented. She let the flavors evolve, the pressure build.

She didn’t hurry herself. She needed to marinate.

An hour and then another easily slid by.

And as she checked the clock and realized that she really ought to be getting to bed, her heart thudded in her ears and her sex ached and her small clothes were totally soaked.

She slipped between her sheets and then slipped her fingers between her own folds.

Her heat flared with the sort of sudden rapture only possible through this level of anticipation. And that heat melted her inhibitions like wax inside a furnace. She plunged into the depths of her subconscious imaginings, finally unafraid of what she might find.

Grun was there first. He was dressed as he had been at their dinner, trying to look bold, yet still blushing. She wrapped her arms around him from behind—he melted under her fingertips. Then he overtook her and filled her with his girth.

Then, Tanyth. All pastels and flowing. Never really on the top, never really on the bottom. A dance of equal partners. Her touching herself, them touching themselves. Them in her mouth, her under their tongue.

Grun, steady and forceful as a drum line.

Tanyth, light and warbling like a melody.

She brought the comparison closer, switched back and forth more rapidly.

Riding Grun and licking Tanyth.

Tanyth wrapped around her and Grun inside of her.

Grun moaning and Tanyth gasping.

Until it was all at once, the steady drumbeat pounding through her and the melody like air all around.

Linza clawed at her sheets as her back curled and her body melted into pleasure. There was the gasping climb, the peak of sensation, the groaning echoes and the lingering afterglow.

And then finally, as the tide came in and the waves carried her out into an ocean of rest, she finally knew what she wanted.

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Part 4: The Interloper, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 28: Under the Table

Linza made her way over to the private dining area behind the one-way mirrors. There were about a dozen tables and four were occupied—five after Linza sat down.

The folks in the room looked like regular patrons. Sipping tea, reading the paper, scribbling in a notebook.

The one-way mirrors ran nearly floor to ceiling, and the view through to the rest of the teahouse was clear. It was easy to forget that the rest of the teahouse couldn’t see you. And that was the point. 

Linza snuck glances at the other patrons, trying to figure which one was here for Tanyth. In the back corner was an older man with salt and pepper hair smoothed back and an emerald corduroy suit. Linza would have bet a whole night’s pay that was him. Everything about his demeanor said ‘gentleman’.

Tanyth dropped off her tea with the usual formalities and then fluttered over to the gentleman. They leaned close to him and spoke quietly, pressing their fingers to their lips.

But it was improper to stare—those were not the parameters of this experience—so Linza sipped her tea and watched idly out over the teahouse.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. Tanyth stopped by the main counter to end their shift, though it wouldn’t appear to the other patrons that they had.

They carried a little tray of shortbread cookies with them as they returned to the private room. They delivered these to the gentleman, with whom they shared another flurry of whispers.

Tanyth picked up one cookie and placed it between the gentleman’s lips, and he bit off a piece. Then he took the rest of the cookie and licked playfully at Tanyth’s fingers. Tanyth blushed and giggled.

The two continued, the gentleman becoming more forward, licking further up Tanyth’s hand, making their skin flush.

It was impossible to see through their skirt, but Linza knew that underneath the petticoats was a throbbing erection.

If Linza snuck a glance at the gentleman’s face, she could just make out what he was saying by the movement of his lips. He placed a hand on Tanyth’s waist. “Come, now. Haven’t you got any other sweet treats for me?” He beamed up at them like they were the loveliest thing in the whole world.

Linza’s heart twinged, just a little. She was happy to know that Tanyth cared for her. But she still wished for someone to beam at her that way, someday.

The gentleman’s hand slipped around to the small of Tanyth’s back. Tanyth said something from behind their fingers and he laughed.

“Oh,” he said. “Clumsy me, you’ve got a touch of crumbs.” He brushed off the front of Tanyth’s skirts but pressed more firmly than necessary.

Tanyth’s eyes fluttered at the stimulation, the gentleman finding their erection through the petticoats.

“I-I think I’m quite clean now,” Tanyth said.

“Still, something seems to be bothering you,” he said.

“N-nothing at all! You’re a perfect gentleman,” they said.

“Hm. Perhaps therein lies the conflict… Am I being too much the gentleman and not enough the man?”

Tanyth’s eyes widened as they fanned their heated cheeks with a delicate hand. “What are you saying?”

He reached out and caught Tanyth’s hand and pressed it to his lips. Lingered.

Tanyth gasped, looked faint.

He reached towards them with his other hand, but conspicuously knocked the empty tray onto the floor. “Would you look at that? Clumsy me.”

He kneeled down to get it.

“Oh, you must let me!” Tanyth said.

“No, no, let me be a gentleman.”

Linza was not the only one whose sidelong glances became more and more frequent. The idea was for them to both watch and pretend to not watch. 

The gentleman kneeled to the floor and looked up.

Everyone else glanced quickly away. 

There was a rustling of fabric, and then the gentleman was gone.

Tanyth gasped. They made a show of rearranging their skirts, only partly succeeding at disguising the movements underneath.

Linza thought this kind of complicit voyeurism was quite clever. You didn’t actually need to be subtle. You just had to pretend to be, and everyone else would also pretend you were. So, you could have a bit more fun.

Tanyth’s eyes fluttered and their skin flushed even brighter and they clutched their skirts. The gentleman’s clever tongue had found their shaft.

Tanyth did their best to contain themselves, but a few gasps and squeaks still escaped. And that was what made it especially exciting—how a dress falling off a shoulder could be more arousing than a nude.

Linza wanted dearly to watch Tanyth’s face more closely, but she couldn’t outright stare. Or… could she?

Linza imagined herself sitting there and reading a newspaper. She held out her hands like she might have held the paper. She traced the gesture for a minor illusion, and the newspaper appeared propped on the table in front of her. To those convinced by the illusion, it would be opaque. To Linza, it was translucent like the mirrored windows.

Nobody had been paying her any mind, so she expected it would be convincing.  And even if another patron noticed the illusion, them catching her in such shameless voyeurism would be its own fun, wouldn’t it?

She stared right at Tanyth’s face. 

They were beautiful. Their cheeks flushed, their eyes fluttering. They bit their lip as they attempted to stay quiet, to play it off. Their blue pigtails bounced as they trembled. 

A few minutes passed like that.

Tanyth shook. They wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. They awkwardly shuffled and then sat down where the gentleman had been, turning to face the table and scooting the chair as close to it as they could.

And then their expression melted into bliss again. 

They propped up a menu in front of their face, but Linza could still see their pigtails quivering. 

And so several more minutes passed. Linza’s illusory newspaper must have been convincing, because a patron across from her slipped their own hand under the table. He was out of sight for everyone except Linza, and she had a clear view right under his table to where he unbuttoned his trousers and carefully released his throbbing shaft.

He stared up at the ceiling as if daydreaming and then stroked himself.

If a little gasp just behind Linza was any indication, the woman behind her had also started to furtively masturbate.

Linza’s attention returned to Tanyth as they leaned further over the table. They whispered somewhat loudly, for the benefit of the audience, “C’mon, that’s enough!”

“But I always have cream with my tea.”

Tanyth’s eyes and resolve fluttered again. “They’ll notice!”

“Not if you’re quiet.”

“I can’t be— mmmm…” Tanyth’s eyes squeezed shut. They gripped the edge of the table, and their shoulders quivered. 

Linza inferred that the gentleman had enveloped Tanyth again, and he seemed intent on pushing them to climax. 

Tanyth’s breath was quick and shallow. They bit their lip again. Then, their eyes flashed open. They looked like a cat frozen in the sudden light of a front door swinging open. 

They arched their back, head tilted back, moaned, and then reached their hands above their head.

It was almost a convincing stretch.

Almost. 

A slight knocking sound of knuckles on wood caught Linza’s attention, and she turned just in time to see the man across from her burst onto the floor in front of him. 

Waves of heat overlapped each other throughout Linza’s body. Nobody else would have minded if she slipped her own hand under the table—in fact, the other voyeurs would have appreciated it. But she was still a bit shy for that, and ultimately she liked to push herself, to see how much stimulation she could stand before she broke. Like the bet with Tanyth on her first day in the breakroom, she liked the challenge.

Tanyth quivered for quite a while. They must have been quite worked up indeed, to cum for so long.

Eventually, the gentleman reappeared across from Tanyth, with a moderate effort at subtlety. His hair was a bit untidied, but his demeanor remained polite.

He licked his lips at Tanyth. 

They put their face in their hands and then peeked at him through their fingers and giggled.

“Was I enough of a man for my perfect lady?” he said.

They nodded emphatically, ringlets bouncing.

“I am afraid I must get back to business, you understand.”

Tanyth pouted. “Must you?”

“Aaah… you know I have such trouble leaving you when you make that face. A few more minutes.”

They chatted a bit longer, though quieter now and Linza could hear less of what they were saying. She also was not as interested in eavesdropping on the more personal aspects of their conversation. 

And her arms were getting tired from pretending to hold up the newspaper. When enough eyes were averted from her, she let the paper melt away to nothingness and returned to sipping her tea, which had turned cold. Oh well—she had no regrets about where she’d put her attentions.

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Part 3: On the Job, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 23: Sorcery (Part II)

Linza turned towards the empty third chair, partly as a place to set the illusions and partly so that she could focus. First came a low and building moan, filling the air all around them. Then a gasp and heaving breath.

This was a sample platter more than a curated experience, and Linza hoped it was what Nephis had in mind.

Next, Linza conjured an image of a woman draped across the chair, her hair a tangle, her hand in her sex, her face a picture of bliss. Then the image faded, replaced with the slapping of flesh and accompanying grunts. Then a man in the chair, head lolled back, arc of cum hovering midair.

Linza kept that pose and shifted through a few different characters—a werewolf, a succubus woman with a massive cock, a slender and feminine man with fox ears and tail.

Linza paused and looked over at Nephis—the tiefling’s eyes were transfixed on the fox. Nephis leaned forward, chin in her hands, one of her fingers pulling at her lip. Though the rest of her was still, her tail lashed violently like a cat with prey in its sights.

Without looking at Linza, she said, “Do sound and an image at once.”

Linza couldn’t, but before she answered as such, she hesitated. She hadn’t ever been able to do an image and sound at once. It was, however, a common ability for students who majored in the school of illusion. And over the past few weeks, Linza had practiced that cantrip more than she ever had while she was in school.

And Nephis hadn’t asked her if she could do it—she had told her to do it. And who would have better instincts for such a thing than a sorcerer?

Linza considered which illusion she might be familiar enough with that the image and sound would come viscerally together. She knew so immediately that she was tracing the movements even before the image was fully in her mind.

The octopus mermaid sprawled across the chair, her tentacles wrapping around the legs and the back and flailing in the air, cum spurting from the tips, her face twisted with bliss, and a guttural orgasmic scream echoing from the center of the image.

Linza nearly lost focus on the illusion. She’d done it!

“Nnnngh now you’ve gone and done it,” Nephis moaned, but this time her scolding tone enticed instead of admonished Linza—mostly because Nephis’s face was flushed red under the purple of her skin, and her eyes were glazed with arousal.

Nephis scooped her violet breasts out and over the edge of her bodice. As she took one of her breasts in her hands and massaged her dark bluish nipple, she pulled her tiered skirt up to reveal that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

With a pointed canine pressing into her full lip, she brought the tip of her muscular tail around and plunged it easily into her sex, gasping with relief. She thrust the tip in and out, working her fingertips over her nipple and vulva.

Nephis tilted her head over to Linza and smiled. “H-how’s this one for the memory banks? Nnnnngh…” She stuffed her tail greedily further inside, already visibly dripping around it. “I k-know I’m supposed to tell you first but… we’re empaths, aren’t we?”

Linza nodded vigorously. Staff were supposed to always ask ahead of time before initiating anything, both with guests and with each other. But sometimes, it was nice to indulge in the feeling of spontaneity—especially since Linza knew that she could simply take her leave and there would be no judgement, no consequence.

At JSMI, part of the strict restriction on romance with professors was that certain students might ‘gain favor’ or that professors might manipulate them with that idea. Ironically, that sex and sexual favors flowed so freely at the estate totally took away their ‘bargaining power’ in such a situation. With everything given and nothing taken, there was no power imbalance to exploit.

And Linza wanted absolutely nothing more than to watch Nephis pleasure herself.

“N-not all Tieflings are thirsty as fuck but— nnnngh,” Nephis shoved her tail in even further. “Fuck that’s good… —But I sure am.”

Linza was, as Nephis had just said, an empath and she took a guess at something that Nephis might like. An image glimmered to life in the third chair again, but this time it was a mirror of Nephis herself, fucking herself with her tail.

“I-is that what I look like?” Nephis said.

Linza traced the gesture again, and the image spoke with Nephis’s exact intonation, “Why would I lie to you?”

“Fuck!” There was an actual splash of moisture around Nephis’s tail. Linza’s rapt attention flowed into the illusion and it shifted to include this detail.

Nephis’s chest heaved, her breasts bouncing. The illusion blurred and then depicted those same breasts mid-air.

Nephis’s eyes widened as she glanced to Linza and trembled with a wave of intense pleasure. “Fuck, you’re good…”

Linza couldn’t help but smile, though she turned her attention back to the illusion, and so did Nephis.

It was like one of Linza’s art classes where they had been required to keep their eyes on the model at all times, and almost never glance at the paper. Linza focused entirely on watching Nephis, letting everything that she noticed flow into the illusion, her fingers constantly flowing through the air to refresh the image.

Nephis continued fucking herself with her tail. With the fingers of one hand she rubbed her clit vigorously, and with the other she pinched and pulled at her nipples—unwinding into deeper and deeper abandon as she watched the same unfold in the illusion.

Nephis reached a fever pitch, her moans and their illusory echoes filling the room, her whole body trembling, her mouth gaping with overwhelming arousal, her wetness dripping up her tail.

Then her breathing quickened and her eyes widened.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Nephis’s eyes rolled up, her back arched, her neck tilted back revealing the purple curves of her neck, and she came. Fluid gushed around her fingers and into the air, splashing over her tail. Then more. Then more. Nephis didn’t stop fucking herself and she didn’t stop cumming and she didn’t stop squirting.

Linza finally succumbed to the intoxicating heat of her own arousal and the illusion faltered as Linza’s awareness was filled with only her own aching need.

Finally, Nephis slowed, her moans deepening and softening and her breathing coming back down to normal. But she didn’t stop fucking herself. She turned her evening grey eyes to Linza and said, “What are you waiting for, an invitation?”

Linza nodded meekly.

Nephis withdrew her tail from herself with a sigh and waggled the tip at Linza. “Wanna try?”

“Yes!” Linza scrambled to her feet, though she nearly fell over. She kicked her underwear off from under her skirt, but didn’t bother to remove any of her other clothes. As she neared Nephis, the tiefling took Linza’s hands in hers and guided Linza’s hands to her breasts and pulled Linza down to straddle her in the chair.

With both of Nephis’s breasts covered by Linza, she curled the hand that had been on her vulva deeper around to her internal spot, and with the other she rubbed circles over Linza’s clit.

Linza nearly collapsed onto her. That is, until the tip of Nephis’s tail teased Linza’s entrance—then, Linza totally buckled.

Nephis didn’t take any issue with Linza’s face in her cleavage. The smell of incense and lavender surrounded Linza.

The first few minutes of sensation—Nephis’s fingertips at her vulva, the slender tip of Nephis’s tail twisting gently at her entrance—were totally overwhelming.

Slowly, the overwhelm gave way to urgency. Linza rearranged herself and grabbed Nephis’s breasts properly again, running her thumbs in circles over the tiefling’s nipples.

Nephis gasped, head tilting back, and she pulled deeper into herself with her own fingers.

Her tail pressed a little further in, and Linza moaned. Then further, with a delicious stretch. And when the length had reached the back of her sex and yet was still too slender, the tip curled back around to press against her spot as more of the girth slid in. The squirming undulations of the tail inside of her were unlike anything that Linza had ever experienced.

Linza moaned. “Fuck! Holy shit that feels good.”

“I know,” Nephis purred.

Nephis’s breasts bounced before her, the forbidden fruit now here for Linza’s delight, and she could not help but lean down again and close her lips around Nephis’s nipple.

“Gods, yes!” Nephis yelled, and the movements of her tail and hand on Linza’s vulva reached fever pitch as Nephis started to cum again.

It required no illusion for the sound of Nephis’s gasps and moans to fill Linza’s entire awareness. Nephis’s chest heaved, her hand slapped against the wetness of her climax, her tail writhed within Linza, and her body shook with wave after wave of release.

Pre-orgasmic waves of pleasure started coursing down Linza’s legs and up her core, just as Nephis’s climax was winding down.

Nephis sensed it and pressed her tail in even further, the tip pushing against Linza’s spot, the shaft providing stretch.

Linza let Nephis’s nipple fall from her lips and gasped once, twice, and then the climax overtook her. She squeezed down around Nephis’s tail and her fingertips grasped Nephis’s breasts as she lost conscious control of her body.

After the first several waves, Nephis stilled and just pressed her hand against Linza’s mound and the tip of her tail against Linza’s spot. That let the sensation of the pulsing contractions come to the forefront of Linza’s awareness.

Linza was a bell, peal after peal of pure ecstasy ringing through her, intensity slowly fading, but pleasure lingering.

Linza sunk down against Nephis, her cheek against Nephis’s breasts, her legs tucked by Nephis’s hips, the tiefling’s hand and tail still in place. They stayed like that for a long few minutes.

Finally, Nephis took a deep breath and smoothed Linza’s hair. “Lovely chat, dear.”

Linza stirred and stretched. She’d forgotten that Nephis’s tail was still inside of her until it withdrew and unwound, and the sensation of it undulating inside of her almost sent her spinning back into climax again.

Linza went and fetched her underwear from the floor. They’d been hot and wet when she’d kicked them off, and now they were cold and wet, so she stuffed them in her pocket rather than put them back on. Linza had started to bring quite a few extra pairs to work for this exact reason. Linza rearranged herself as best she could, though Nephis made no such efforts.

The tiefling remained sprawled across the chair with her skirts hiked up, her breasts resting over her corset and her tail draped over the side of the chair and hanging limp towards the floor.

“I’ll stop by the madame’s office for the paperwork?” Linza asked. Something told her that Nephis wouldn’t be facilitating the paperwork process, between Nephis’s earlier attitude and the lack of desk in the office.

“Clever girl,” Nephis crooned.

A shiver curled down Linza’s spine.

There also wasn’t a clock in Nephis’s office, probably because the woman preferred to work on instinct than clockwork. “Best not be late,” Linza said, curtseying with mock formality. She stepped towards the door.

“Now, Linza,” Nephis said, “With your new arrangement I’ll need to do regular… quality inspections, to ensure that nobody will mistake them for cut-rate work.” A half-smile curled across her face, equal parts mischievous and lecherous.

Linza matched it with her own. “But of course. And… does that imply that the rate for these other sessions remains the same as my current rate?”

Nephis grinned. “But of course.”

Linza’s excitement nearly jumped out of her chest, but she needed to focus and especially needed to not be late to her next session, lest she lose any of the patrons she had so far cultivated. She’d assumed, in error, that these new sessions wouldn’t fetch the same rate.

Linza dipped her head in farewell, and this time Nephis let her leave.

With a glance at the nearest tower clock, Linza confirmed that she only had a minute to spare before her next session, and she scurried around the corner and into her half of the little room.

Linza was lucky that her next guest particularly liked succubi. After the session, the guest praised her, saying that this latest work had been particularly inspired. It had been, of course—Linza had modeled the succubus directly after Nephis.

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Part 3: On the Job, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 21: Field Research

Fortunately for Linza and her research goals, there were plenty of experiences that welcomed voyeurs. She would have had to pay for the pleasure, in fact, had she not been on staff.

This particular experience involved six handsome men and a sitting room. At the center was the performance, and the voyeurs could each choose one of the many different kinds chairs that ringed the space, according to their tastes.

Linza had ended up curled in a wingback, partially for the sense of safety that the high back and sides around her provided. She was excited more than apprehensive, but the closeness of the chair comforted her all the same.

The guest in this encounter was a middle-aged woman with dark skin and short hair. Linza had noticed that guests at the pleasure house tended to be in middle or advanced age. She’d at first bought into the idea that they perhaps found it more difficult to find partners than younger folks. But then Linza had started to understand, especially with her guests in the illusion rooms, that the truth was that it took most folks some years to develop the boldness to pursue what they truly wanted. The older folks were more picky about their sexual encounters, not less.

And Linza was confident that sexuality and youth did not correlate one bit. Some of the most attractive, beautiful, vital people she’d ever seen were these people of so-called middle and advanced age.

This guest had a particular magic around her, a brilliant energy, and the six male hosts of the experience needed only do what came naturally. There were two half-orcs, a half-elf, and three humans, twelve eyes totally captivated by their guest.

They all wore robes to start and milled around the center of the room until it was time.

Then the guest dropped her robe.

The men started fawning over her immediately, sidling up to catch her attention, dropping their robes to reveal their own nakedness and throbbing erections.

“Please will you have me?”

“Don’t I please you most?”

“I’ll pleasure you the best.”

She put a finger to her lips and regarded the six of them. She lingered in that moment until they were each pawing at her, begging and pleading. She raised a hand. “Enough. I’ve made my decision. I’ll have all of you.”

And then she was swept into their arms, pulled into the middle of them, abruptly, insistently. As with every experience at the estate, this would have been discussed with the guest prior, to ensure that everything was to her liking.

Though, ‘liking’ was an understatement. The guest reveled in their attentions, delighted in their desperation.

The men ushered her gently over an ottoman and then there was a dick in her mouth and a dick in her sex. The other four ran their hands over her, taking turns kissing her hips, suckling her breasts, fondling her curves, stroking themselves all the while. 

Linza sat in the wing-backed chair, hands over her face and watching through parted fingers. She breathed quickly. Everything in her body, her mind, responded to the erotic scene before her. Her false modesty thus displaced, there was only a burning and throbbing desire. It surprised her. She’d been guiding people to masturbate for weeks now—but here, they were seeing her seeing them. There were more bodies, more sweat, more moaning. 

Linza kept her hand at her face as much so that she wouldn’t start masturbating as anything else. She needed to focus. Needed to etch these memories in her mind, to record them in her repertoire, to notice all the subtle little details. The ways the muscles of their abdomens clenched as waves of desire hit them. The coordinated but not-quite-simultaneous way their eyes and touch followed the guest as she moved. The way that one man’s gasping desire spurred the other five on. The way their eyes settled on her jiggling ass, her swinging breasts, her blissy face.

Linza even noticed how they subtly watched each other and paced themselves. These were not necessarily details that she’d represent in a fantasy, but she appreciated them. They were the real work of crafting a scenario like this, the control and coordination so subtle you almost didn’t notice, all to enable them to all climax at the same time.

Thinking of that eventuality, Linza couldn’t wait. Literally, she could no longer force her hand to stay on her cheek, and instead it fell to press at her mound through the thin layer of her skirt. Her underwear was already soaked. But she dared not miss a single detail.

Especially not when the guest’s breathing deepened and she grabbed the ass of the man with his dick in her mouth and pulled him deep. When his face melted into total abandon and Linza knew that there was no way he could stop the impending orgasm that was pulling all his muscles tight, like an arrow drawn on a bowstring. 

And with all the discipline of a military unit, the other five nocked their arrows and waited.

The guest’s orgasm began and she moaned around the shaft of the first man.

And then his arrow loosed and he pulsed his cum down her throat.

And the other five released their volley, the arcs of cum hanging in the air for a precious moment before falling across her body in a criss-cross of heat and relief.

The sound of six male orgasms in unison echoed in Linza’s ears and mind as she captured as much fidelity as she possibly could.

And then they slowed, and the woman lay happily upon the ottoman. She beckoned one of the men down and he kissed her as the others toweled her off and lavished gentle touches upon her.

Linza gulped. Her monetary goals and trained modesty were suddenly directly at-odds with how desperately she wanted to be the subject of this kind of experience. Yet, she would be embarrassed to have so much attention lavished upon her! Or… would she be embarrassed at the attention itself? Or simply her desire for it? She had no answer for that yet and did not expect to for some time. So, she watched the denouement of the experience with a quiet, desperate awe, her own arousal pounding through her veins. 

She glanced around. Most of the other voyeurs had already climaxed or left to do so elsewhere. She could hardly start now, could she? In the heat of the moment, nobody would have paid much attention to her. Here and now, though—they’d notice! Would they like it? Would they touch themselves again? She wanted very deeply such a scenario but she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask for it. This was why such conversations were best had before the heat of lust.

And so she stayed in the chair, one hand on her cheek and the other over her skirt on her mound, not quite committing to doing anything else.

Eventually, the men and the guest and the rest of the audience left, leaving her there alone and with the lights dimmed.

It was the kindest thing they possibly could have done.

Without anything to hold her back, Linza pulled up her skirt and pulled down her underwear. She buried her hand deep inside of herself. “Fuck! Nnnngh…”

She heaved up and out of the chair and over to the ottoman that the guest had laid across. Linza lay on her back and with a trembling hand she summoned a minor illusion. It was static and the backs of the men would be fuzzy, not quite within the range of the illusion, but the most important part was rendered in perfect clarity.

Their cum in frozen arcs, hanging in the air. Their faces contorted with need and bliss.

The vision was even more inspiring than Linza had anticipated. Almost before she realized it, she was cumming—that delicious blossoming of heat filling her body. Though this blossom did not bear the fruit of satisfaction, but rather of greater need. 

Unable to keep her eyes open, she set the sounds of the six men’s moans to play over and over again around her. She tried to savor the experience but could not escape the tendrils of urgent arousal that had wrapped around her and she gasped and panted and begged until she finally reached another climax.

This one released her out of need and into soft relaxation.

She heaved herself up and collapsed back into the wingback chair to take a moment to recover. She was confident that already she would have a little something extra for her guests. But her endeavor was far from over, she concluded. As with any kind of research—the more data, the better.

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