INTREPID PAWNS, CHAPTER 12
After the long and dangerous trek through the Evergreen Forest, Brist had almost forgotten how good it felt to plunge his head beneath the surface of clean, non-drugged autumn meltwater and let his curly bleached-white hair be swept from his eyes by the ferocity of the flow.
Unfortunately, he had completely forgotten how terrible it felt.
He burst out of the frigid water and fell backward, gasping for breath. “C-cold!” he stammered, clutching his chest at the shivers ricketing through him, a gentle but very unwelcome breeze clawing at his drenched face.
“Well, of course it’s cold!” Ia giggle, dropping into a spiderlike crouch atop her riverstone. The lithe, dark-eyed knight cupped some water in her hands—even from across the fast-flowing creek, Brist could see goosebumps forming on her pale arms—and splashed herself. Her face went a rosy pink, and she frantically pawed at her face as if to wipe the water away. “Brrr! Jakingill’s broken crown, holy shit that’s cold!”
Brist couldn’t help but laugh, even as he shivered. “But it feels better, doesn’t it? It’s—” He clutched himself tightly as a particularly strong gust of wind sent a harsh, almost painful shiver through him. “Bracing!” he managed.
“‘Bracing.’” Ia rolled her eyes. “I guess it’s got a sorta clearing effect. Good to wake you up.” She hopped over to join Brist on the banks. “But I’m basically a lizard, so I’d rather be in a fleece den than cold.”
Brist carefully avoided her eyes. This wasn’t easy. Her dark, pretty eyes glittered up at him like the river stones below them.
The knights were just barely outside of the Evergreen Forest—the Evergreen shied away for the most part from the coastline, and here, in the shadows of the somewhat unimpressive Coastal Range, all that grew were scruby birch and aspen trees, and the occasional fir or pine. Compared to the Evergreen Forest—a lush, enchanted paradise of deciduous trees and brilliant blossoms and delectable fruits—this was a desert of grays and browns and dull greens. But that bareness was a relief after even a brief trek through the infamous Western Evergreen.
Ia shivered noticeably, sliding a bit closer to Brist. Brist bit his lip, unable to help but slide closer as well, putting an arm over his fellow Silver Knight. She wriggled and leaned closer, and before Brist quite knew what was happening, she was pressed up against him.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But he felt warmer now. Especially his cheeks.
He sat down on the protruding root of an old cedar, and Ia made a sound—almost a happy hum—as she sat down beside him and somehow nuzzled in closer still. She was smiling now, and Brist’s heart rate sped up as he realized how nice it was to see her smile.
Her head rested against his chest, and he wondered if she could feel that very heart rate. From her fond smile, he could almost imagine she knew.
The events of the night before were a haze. A sweet, blurry haze. They’d talked. She’d kissed him. They’d… had a moment together. But were they together now? It certainly felt like they were.
Brist had never been with anyone before—he’d barely even dated. Now Ia, the knight who drove him out of his mind with her juvenile antics and insufferable teasing, was practically curling up in his lap, humming sweetly as she listened to his heart beat.
Brist swallowed, looking down at her, and found himself lost in her smile. How had he never realized how beautiful she was? How supple and graceful her athletic body, how sharply her jet-black hair, so wild and untamed, contrasted with her peachy-pale skin. How big her smile was, and how her dark lashes fluttered ever-so-slightly as she cuddled against him, her pretty voice coming out in a soft half-hummed lullaby…
She was lovely. She was perfect. And she felt so… so good, as her hand drifted down towards his lap, her sweet humming echoing in his ear…
“Wow,” piped up a vaguely familiar voice, “look at you two! Sooo cute!”
Ia’s eyes opened, and she quickly pulled away her hand and straightened. Brist nearly sprang up in surprise, feeling his cheeks burning like metal plates left in the sun as he looked around for the source of the voice.
A pale, freckled brunette catgirl sprang down from a nearby tree branch, landing noiselessly upon the riverbank in perfect pose. She wore only a pair of loose-fitting leggings and a large sweater that Brist was pretty sure belonged to Trys. Her hands didn’t quite reach the sleeves, and she paused to pull the sleeves down as she straightened and smiled indulgently. “Sorry if I startled you!” she sang, looking about as sorry as a squirrel caught in the bird feeder. She swung a hip to the side and rested a hand upon it in a playful, energetic pose. “You two are just the cuuuutest kittens I’ve ever seen!”
Ia brushed some hair from her eyes, biting her lip. Brist coughed. “Um… Mew, was it?”
“Morrowii!” the catgirl declared proudly, her chestnut tail flicking behind her, her perky catlike ears pricked up to full attention. “But my friends call me Mew.” She smiled slyly. “And we’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Um…”
“Of course we are!” Mew squealed, hurrying up and clasping Ia’s and Brist’s hands together in hers. She beamed down at them. “We’re gonna save your city, right? Cutiepies?”
It took Brist a moment to realize she was trying to name the city as she blinked innocent down a them both. “Enterprise,” he mumbled. Her brilliant gold-streaked green eyes were piercing, as if they could see every single bone in his body, spot every little flutter in his stomach.
“Yup, that too! We’re all one big happy family now!” Mew released their hands and turned towards the creek, a finger to her lip as she considered the flow. “Oh, dear. That looks cold.”
“It’s meltwater,” Ia said, smiling nervously.
“But it’s fall!”
“A lot of warm air hits the coastline from the north in the fall,” Brist said, earnestly startled. That was something every local of the area learned—even a Tower Mage like him. How did a druidess not know it?
“Hmph. I guess that’s something a farmer would know.” Mew pouted. The catgirl was frowning down at the creek. “I wanted to take a bath, so I could smell all nice and clean for my hone—for, um, Yathi, but now…”
Yathi. Despite how nice Ia felt pressed against him, Brist felt a strange pang of jealousy run through him.
“I thought you were with Trys?” Ia asked, looking similarly cross.
“Oh!” Mew turned around, blinking. Her face went red. “W-Well, Trys is fun…” She drew her toes idly through the dirt, “… but Yathi is… well… you know.” She winked, then turned back to the creek.
Brist did know. And from the way Ia was chewing her bottom lip, Ia did, too. Everyone wanted Yathi. Even fey, it seemed.
Mew was leaning over the edge, peering into the frigid flow, presenting her ass to the two onlookers.
A strange, delightful thought struck Brist then. He glanced at Ia, who was biting her lip, her eyes glinting with mischief as the catgirl leaned even further. Their eyes met.
And as one, the two rose up to shove the catgirl into the creek.
Instead, at that moment, the part of the dirt bank Mew was standing on gave way, and the catgirl fell with a strangled shriek—and a considerable splash.
Brist blinked.
Ia blinked.
“Well, that works,” he murmured. Ia shot him a sly grin. A disarming, mischievous smile.
And as the catgirl mewled and complained at the chill, Brist found himself being seated back onto the root, back into Ia’s cuddling embrace.
His mind felt strangely fuzzy. It… certainly felt like they were together now. If only he could remember the events of last night more clearly.
Her finger traced spirals over his growing bulge, and his heart started to race. If only.
“Yathi!” called a sugary-sweet voice, making Yathi jump and nearly drop her clippers. “Oh, Yaaaaathiiiii!”
Yathi bit her lip. All it now took, it seemed, was the sound of Mew’s voice to have her face blushing hotter than two summer lovers. The catgirl was calling her, and it took all of Yathi’s strength not to whimper back a reply.
And Mew would hear it. The catgirl had no doubt enhanced her hearing, as catgirls could, to hear even the softest sound Yathi made. The faintest crunch of a leaf. The littlest, most pathetic whine. Perhaps even the dripping of milk as Yathi started fondling her breasts, remembering how good it would feel to hear the word honeycow pour into her ears as Mew pawed and licked and suckled her to brainless obedient bliss…
She shook her head furiously and worked quicker. She didn’t have much time to gather as much as she could. Mew would no doubt find her any second now—especially if she’d also enhanced her sense of smell, and could smell how wet Yathi was getting just imagining being found, could smell Yathi’s blouse still stained with honey-sweetened milk…
“Yaaaathi,” Mew called, and the voice sounded a bit more sly now. “Yathi, are you there? You know it’s not safe for… someone like you to be alone. You’ll be much safer with your lovely kitty to protect you. Your lovely… obedient… thirsty kitty.”
Mew’s laughter echoed in Yathi’s ears as Yathi covered her mouth with a hand, barely muffling her moan. She and Mew both knew that all Mew had to say was honeycow, and Yathi would start lactating, start begging.
Yathi couldn’t believe how far she’d already fallen. After years of struggle—dying her hair black just to keep her natural blonde hair from attracting extra attention in a city obsessed with the blonde bombshell Thriae, rising in the ranks of the Silver Knights while constantly avoiding, and very rarely taking advantage of, attentions from her peers, her senior officers, her subordinates—to be captured by the Thriae and turned into a honey-tainted harlot in… a day? Two days?
Addiction was bad enough. She could deal with addiction. But now to be addicted to a creature who should have been addicted to her—a meadchaser catgirl who couldn’t get enough of her milk, her pussy, even her kisses, a honey addict who should have been reduced to begging Yathi for every taste—it was almost too much to bear.
But it felt so good. So horribly, deliciously, stickily good. Mew knew just how to touch her, kiss her, suckle her, lick her—just how to drink her deep and keep Yathi happy. Keep Yathi content. Keep Yathi obedient.
Yathi nearly cut herself as she clipped and hurriedly stowed the last sprig into her satchel, along with the shears. Her breaths were coming in hot and heavy as her head spun with clouds of honey, imagining Mew catching her any second now, clutching her, forcing her to beg for Mew’s sweet, sweet suckling… forcing her little honeycow to submit…
After all these years, to be so close to giving in now. Yathi inwardly cursed her own beauty, the perfect, buxom yet fit and toned figure, gorgeous plump red-violet lips, beautiful thick lashes and deep green eyes—steadily turning to a wheatfield-gold from her ongoing sugary corruption by the wasp fey—her pert bubble butt, her heavy, heaving breasts that felt so constrained in this blouse, so desperate for attention…
“Yaaaaathiii,” Mew sang. “Sweetie, where’d you go?”
Yathi swallowed and rose to a crouching position, looking around for signs of danger. Her fellow knights seemed confident that they were ‘out of the woods,’ but Yathi was a seasoned scout, and she knew how arbitrary the line between Evergreen Forest and the rest of the world really was, how easily that line could shift. Nowhere was safe until you were back in the village. And Yathi hadn’t been back to her hometown in years. Enterprise was home now, and it was never, ever truly safe anymore.
“Yathi?”
Yathi nearly jumped straight out of her pants—and more seriously, nearly dropped her satchel as she was buttoning it shut—as she whirled to see Trys. The tall, statuesque blonde beauty was frowning down at her, her eyes darting from side to side to betray some nervousness.
“Trys,” Yathi mumbled, rising to her feet. “Do you reckon, um…”
“Mew’s looking in the complete wrong direction,” Trys promised with a slight smile. “She fell in the creek, so her ears aren’t manipulating her senses right. You know how catgirl magic is. It’s very finicky.”
“Ah. Right.” Yathi nodded, slinging her satchel over her shoulder. “Surprised she ain’t seeking you out. Reckoned you were her main favorite.”
“R-Right.” Trys glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip. Yathi could make out equal parts guilty relief and needy envy in those pretty golden eyes. “Well, I think… I think she’d like to find either of us, but you seem to have… made an impression.”
“Ha.” Yathi gave a short laugh. “That’s a tale I hear a lot.”
“How are you doing?”
“How are you doing?” Yathi didn’t mean for her tone to sound as sharp as it did. She kicked the ground lightly, avoiding Trys’s eyes. “I mean, as to say… you’ve been on this stuff longer than me. The mead. Now with all this… I mean, bringin’ Mew along definitely ain’t gonna end well.”
“It might.” Trys shrugged uncertainly. “She’ll be hard to get rid of.”
“Could knife her.”
Trys blinked.
“Well, we could.”
“I suppose so,” Trys said, her tone brittle with unease. “But… a catgirl is going to be useful. She can dull senses, and her druid magic complements Brist’s.”
“She’s not even been dosed as bad as you or me, and she’s thirsting for it worse than anyone.” Yathi folded her arms. “She’ll sell us out for a drop.”
“Yes,” Trys agreed, surprising Yathi slightly with her ease. “But… well, a catgirl can keep the Thriae busy better than, say, Brist. You know how High Fey can be about catgirls. Especially needy ones.”
Needy. Despite her best efforts, Yathi couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Seems like you’re… coming up with excuses. To keep her around.”
“We need every edge, Yathi.” Trys’s jaw set. “And I’d rather sacrifice her than one of us, if we end up… having to make a tough call. Enterprise is counting on us.”
“Its investors are counting on us.”
“Is there a difference?”
The mist was beginning to dissipate, but the dew that remained clung to every blade of grass, every low-hanging leaf or cedar needle.
It was a chilly autumn morning. The sun was only now coming into view over the peaks of the Coastal Range. Though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, Yathi could taste ozone in the air.
“What were you doing out here, anyways?” Trys asked. She regarded Yathi curiously as they made their way back to the campsite. The scout was clearly cold, dressed as she was only in her tight-fitting, form-fitting leather armor. Even though she hadn’t bathed in the creek, her hair shimmered in the morning light, her face pleasingly pink from the chill, her cute button nose glowing slightly.
“… just making sure nothing’s been following us,” Yathi mumbled, avoiding Trys’s gaze. “Covering our tracks, y’know, the regular cautions.”
“Oh.” Trys looked around them. Aside from the creek’s distant flow, it had become very quiet, as Mew had seemingly given up on finding Yathi—or had found them, Trys thought nervously, and was now stalking them both, waiting for the chance to trigger them into states of helpless, needy arousal. “You know… if the addiction is giving you trouble…”
“I’m fine,” Yathi said stiffly.
“I-I know,” Trys said. She bit her lip, noticing Yathi shivering, and leaned slightly closer. “I mean… even if it’s not, yet… I could help.”
“You’re not the captain.”
“Thank the gods.” Trys giggled, and to her slight relief, Yathi did, too. She tried not to think about what a pretty laugh Yathi had. “I just mean, as in, I have meditation techniques I learned. I could teach you some of them.”
Yathi licked her lips, though they didn’t look the least bit dry or chapped to Trys. “That would be nice. Maybe.” She clutched herself as the wind picked up.
Trys’s heart melted slightly, watching the gorgeous—and capable, and sensible, and intelligent—scout shivering in the cold. She leaned in a bit closer, reaching out an arm. “Some of it is very simple,” she said, swallowing a lump in her throat as she gently pulled Yathi closer—just to warm her up against Trys’s furs, just to help her withstand the wind. “Very… easy to learn. I could help you.”
Yathi blinked up at her, and briefly, her lower lip quivered, her eyes wide, as she leaned against Trys, and Trys’s heart started to pound in her chest as she felt Yathi’s soft, supple frame pressing against her side, resting beneath her arm…
Then she pulled away sharply, jerking out of the contact. “No thanks.”
Trys blinked, her cheeks flushing. “I-I didn’t—” She stumbled over her words, feeling like she’d just been caught masturbating in public beneath Yathi’s wary, guarded, judgmental gaze.
“I didn’t need it from Sir Okino,” Yathi said, her voice quiet and dark and cold like icicles, like stalactites in the depths, “and I don’t need whatever this is from you.”
Trys’s eyes widened. “But I—I wasn’t—” Her voice was strangled, as she herself warred with her certainties. She didn’t know what to say. Was she? Had she? She hadn’t meant to—surely she hadn’t, but—
“I know why he brought me on,” Yathi said, turning away, “and I know what he wanted. I know what you want, Trys. I don’t need another team leader trying to get in my pants. I don’t want your help.”
Trys trailed off, feeling like the air had punched out of her as Yathi sped up, hurrying back towards camp.
Had she been… ?
Trys bit her lip. She’d heard about Yathi long before she’d ever met the scout. Heard about Yathi’s issues. The gossip about how she’d gotten her position—the gossip about who she’d turned down, who she would soon turn down. She hadn’t believed a lot of it. She hadn’t been able to believe anyone could be hot enough to cause so much… disruption.
It wasn’t Yathi’s fault. It clearly wasn’t Yathi’s fault.
But Trys didn’t understand why it was so hard to keep that in mind when, even stomping away, Yathi’s ass managed to sway like she was dancing just for Trys.
She focused her eyes on the ground and hurried after. They did not have time for this. And Yathi was right: the last thing they needed was a team leader too busy lusting after their subordinates to do their damn job.
Okino stared at the closed door, his eyes wide, feeling too shocked to even move.
It had all happened so quickly. One moment, he’d been walking down the hall with Minixi, his… his ally, a Thriae from the enemy hive who longed like him to escape the clutches of the sorceress Ytheri. She’d been teasing him. Tormenting him. Toying with his bimbo cock.
The next, they had been surrounded by seductive elfmaids, and Minixi had given in to their hypnosis with… barely any prodding. She’d just given in. Submitted. She’d made it look effortless.
And then the next, she had been gone, sealed behind locked doors with her giggling temptresses. And Okino had been left alone. Alone, naked, and horny.
Alone to do… what, exactly?
He had no idea where Minixi had been planning to go. She’d just been leading him around, a puppet on a string, a worm on a hook—a boy with his cock in her hand and her honey in his belly and her taste on his tongue.
So he stood in the middle of the dark hallway, staring at where she’d gone, hoping against hope that the doors would open gain and Minixi would stroll back out to continue where they’d left off.
Or at least that he could follow her through and save her.
Or submit to the four elves like the submissive bimbo Minixi said he wanted to be.
Okino scowled and bit his lip hard enough to hurt, shaking himself furiously. No! He didn’t need Minixi’s help. And he did not need to submit. With every submission, he grew weaker. More vulnerable. And when he was finally fully brainwashed, who knew what Ytheri would bother to do with a useless human like him?
He had to hold fast. Had to keep resisting. He had to find a way out of here and try to… to catch up with his patrol, for better or worse. That was all he could do. Failure as he might be, he could not leave them for the Thriae’s mercies. He had to do something.
He took a deep breath. At least the air didn’t smell sweet anymore. Without Minixi, he could actually breathe relatively fresh air.
He needed to work out where he was. Get some kind of bearing. He knew they had to be underground, even though for all he could see they were in some elegant wooden mansion—albeit one without windows. Each door bore a carving above it—the four that the elfmaids had been behind each lay beneath similar etchings depicting large beds, for instance. Okino looked around, trying to spot a—
“Hello,” Ytheri said sweetly, clasping her hands in her lap as she smiled at him from about a meter away.
Okino sprang back, letting out a strangled cry. This made Ytheri giggle. He stared at her, wild-eyed.
“Oh, you.” The sorceress rolled her eyes. Her beautiful, sparkling, many-hued eyes, swirling like the mist that even now threatened to flood Okino’s mind once more. He’d forgotten how lovely she was—her black hair flowing down over her shoulders and swishing around her tall, elegant form with every motion, her moss green lips curved upwards in the slightest of smiles “Walking around my menagerie as if I don’t know you’re here.”
She took a step closer, and when he took a step back, she tutted. “Now, now. The game is still on, isn’t it?” She winked. “If I wanted to melt you right now, I could.” She reached over, tracing a finger over his forehead fondly. “And I suppose you’re free to forfeit now…”
He flinched, but didn’t keep backing away as she walked closer and hooked her arm in his. His breath caught. “Wh-What do you…”
“Oh, I’m just bored.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.” She tsked, her free hand grazing over his exposed, erect cock. “Not so good, huh?”
“I-I… I’m fine.” Okino took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sudden pleasant floral aroma of her perfume. Ytheri wasn’t mind controlling him right now, but gods, she was so beautiful, and so close, and Minixi had left him so, so horny…
“Are you? How wonderful!” She patted his cock and brought her hand back to her side, gently steering him around. “Why don’t we walk together, then? You’ve made it to the jewel of my collection, so isn’t it a good idea to take a looksie?”
Her voice was laden with suggestion—and not just the mundane kind. Okino swallowed. “F-Fine.”
“Lovely!” She kissed him again. His head spun with pink pleasure as she pulled away, her voice soft and sensuous. She started to walk, and he walked with her, steered by her gentle arm. “You’re being very good, Okino, just as I’d hoped. So… what to show you first?”
He glanced over. She was pouting uncertainly, looking around as they passed the doors. Her finger was halfway between her lips as she weighed her choices, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the perfect cupid’s bow of her plump lips, the sound and feel of her kisses lingering in his tired, horny brain.
He had to resist her, somehow. This sorceress—this archmage who even the Thriae feared, who even psychopomps submitted to—he was supposed to escape her. It felt so stupid, so delued, so pointless. But a knight had his duty.
Her eyes lit up. “Ooh! I know!” She snapped her fingers.
The door to their left seemed to instantly vansh, revealing the cell beyond—and its occupant.
Okino tried to take a nervous step back, but Ytheri wouldn’t let him, holding him gently but firmly. “No, no,” she cooed in his ear, “See? It’s fine.”
She stroked his hair. Okino’s eyelids fluttered as he looked closer, and realized, to his embarrassment, that it was fine. The door hadn’t vanished. It had transmuted into clear crystal.
Which was fortunate, because from the sight beyond, he had a feeling he needed that barrier to protect him.
The cell, or whatever it was, was furnished like a bakery. Or a very high-end, rather kitschy pub. Everything was colorful, everything was bright, and the counter was practically overflowing with cupcakes, candies, pastries, glass pitchers of thick, sloshing syrups. The tables, too, were loaded with sugary decadence. In place of windows were pretty paintings stylized to appear as if one was looking outside at events taking place.
They were… very suggestive paintings. Paintings of men and women being held down. Held down by dozens of gorgeous men and women with identical pink eyes and big smiles. The scenes were lit in pink glow. The men and women being pinned were covered in pink lipstick marks, all with expressions of fear, unease—and unwanted, overwhelmed bliss as the rosy-eyed mob descended on them.
Okino’s eyes drifted to the nearest painting of a handsome man being held down by countless gorgeous women, his eyes wide, his lips parted as they appeared to be descending upon his cock—and licking eagerly. Two women held his head up between their bosoms as they seemed to coo down at him, stroking his hair, forcing him to take curious flowers into his mouth.
“Where is… Ah, there’s our girl,” he heard Ytheri murmur with a smile.
He followed her gaze downward.
Lounging back on the red-and-pink tiles was a very attractive woman with milky-pale skin and big pink eyes. Pretty lotus flowers were settled in her pale blonde hair. She was short and buxom, with particularly pronounced breasts—as soft as if she’d never worked a day in her life. She was dressed in little more than silken slips as she idly sucked on one of the countless sweets.
Her very plump pink lips smacked visibly, messily, as she bobbed her head from side to side.
“She never really finishes any of those treats,” Ytheri said, giggling. “I think they’re just decorative.”
As she spoke, the woman’s eyes snapped open. She blinked up rapidly at the two onlookers, and Okino was struck by how pretty and bright her pink eyes were.
She smiled, popped the lollipop out of her mouth, and licked her lips.
“Lotus drones don’t need food, after all,” Ytheri went on. “Not… normal food, anyways.”
A lotus drone. Okino’s eyes widened as he watched the drone slowly crawl over to him. She was beaming ear to ear, wiggling her ass with every step. Lotus drones were among the most dangerous creatures in the world—not definitely fey, not definitely fiend, not definitely undead, but bizarre monsters who had once been ordinary people. Before another lotus drone had gotten to them and persuaded them to eat some of their irresistible flower.
Just like the figures in the paintings, his head warned him, as he stared down at the squirming, smiling drone.
“I call her ‘Lottie,’” Ytheri said. “Get it?”
“H-How did you… capture one?” Okino whispered. His head tilted side to side, watching the lotus drone’s hips sway. Lotus drones were essentially impossible to catch and study, since anyone they got near would quickly be overcome by the raw sensuality of surrender to the flower.
Or, um. Something like that. Okino bit his lip, watching Lottie pout her lips suggestively, batting her eyelashes. She had such big, pretty eyes.
And he was getting hard again. He gulped.
“By accident. She got caught in a trap and the villagers who caught her begged me for help.” Ytheri giggled. “Dear things, so afraid.” Her voice lowered to a husky purr. “And right to be afraid. I put her in this prison and have never even spoken to her.”
The drone was breathing heavily, Okino saw, and he felt his breathing slow to match her rhythm. He shook himself, closing his eyes, trying desperately to get the lotus drone out of his head. But those rosy eyes haunted him.
“I’m sure,” Ytheri cooed, “she wouldn’t mind some company after all these years. This little cell is warded to be a one-way gateway.”
“O-One way…” Okino’s head slushed as he found himself staring again at Lottie, who was sucking the lollipop again, licking it suggestively, her eyes burning with lust.
“In,” Ytheri purred in his ear, and he felt her hand grip his cock briefly and stroke down, “but not out.” Her hand pumped back up and released him.
Lottie smirked, watching this display. She blew him another kiss, this one fogging up the door.
Then she leaned in with her tongue and drew, with unbearable slowness but precision, a perfect heart. She paused, then planted a pink lipstick kiss next to it.
Okino stared, his own heart pounding.
Lottie sat up and blinked up innocently at him, her big eyes holding his gaze beneath fluttering, thick lashes, pouting.
He tore his gaze away, and Ytheri laughed. “Smart boy.”
The door turned back into wood.
He was still trying to recover, rubbing his eyes, as he felt himself being led to another door. He was less surprised when this one turned to crystal, revealing a room that reminded him of a seamstress’s workroom.
This scene, though, was surprising. There were five people in this cell.
Two of them were quite short—buxom shortstacks with flowing white hair, clad in the plain rags of washermaids. Their frilly skirts billowed around them as they danced and pranced and appeared to sing, working a long, sopping wet silken sheet between them, wringing it clean.
Two of them were identical, but slept in small perfectly-sized beds behind them, contentedly snoozing amid sheets like the one being washed and dried.
And the fifth was a whimpering bunnygirl who looked half-asleep as she struggled and squirmed futilely between the two, caught up in the sheets being dried. Her long red hair was drenched like she’d been dumped in a lake, and her breasts bounced freely in her struggles. She seemed desperate to escape being wrapped up—but like toffee pullers, the washermaids seemed to quite easily keep her contained at all times as they danced around her.
The silks were being tugged and wrung around her, and at first Okino assumed she was being squeezed, constricted…
… but no, she wasn’t crying in pain. Her eyes, wide and wild, were not filled with agony, but need.
His mouth went dry as he realized her cock was somehow being elegantly stroked every time the sheets were tugged. Her breasts, too, the silk grazing over her nipples in clearly torturous pleasure. She was plainly exhausted, could plainly not even stand. Her long, floppy rabbit ears flounced as she was spun helplessly around, and Okino realized she was being…
… edged.
“Oh, dear,” Ytheri said softly, “they’ve been keeping her going for a while, haven’t they? Washermaids. They can work in shifts, you see, so the two resting now will rise soon to continue.”
Okino licked his lips. “They’re…”
“Torturing her.” Ytheri giggled. “Well, sort of, dear. Washermaids don’t like being interrupted, and that pretty bunny was already in their clutches when I caught them. She loves them, of course.”
Okino blinked. He realized that though the bunnygirl was squirming desperately, whimpering, her struggles seemed less interested in getting out than in getting… off. She was whimpering to the washermaids, begging them for something.
Not mercy. At least, not the kind of mercy he’d assumed.
“They’ll let her rest soon.” Ytheri patted his head comfortingly. “And they might even let her come, if she wants to. It feels so good… being on the edge. And they’re good at convincing her she wants to be a good girl.”
Okino swallowed nothing, staring at that look on the bunnygirl’s pretty face. Such a pretty expression of need, of torment, of exhaustion… of love.
“Then they’ll dress her up,” Ytheri continued, “and make her all pretty and clean, a good little pet, and they’ll kiss her and tease her until she passes out!” She giggled again. “Of course, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a second toy…”
The white-haired women glanced away from their pet and towards Okino, grinning.
They licked their lips and said something he couldn’t hear. Something he was probably lucky he couldn’t hear.
He looked away. The door went solid once more as Ytheri sighed happily. “They’re my favorites, perhaps. Or close to it. Washermaids are very tricky to catch, you see! If their silks touch you, it doesn’t matter how strong your will is, and they are quick.” She led him away. “Hm… what next? Ooh, of course! Something sweet to balance out that spice?”
The next cell was furnished like a nursery. Dangling crystals spun from the ceiling, which was painted like the stars of a galaxy he didn’t recognize, and the walls were painted with abstract pink and blue designs. Countless strange toys littered the floor, many of which reminiscent of exotic flowers and several of which almost certainly sex toys, and a wardrobe in the corner was decorated with images of beautiful, curvaceous women, all with expressions of pure love and joy as they spread their arms wide, all dressed in diaphanous, trailing lingerie. An icebox next to the doorway had the image of a baby bottle full of milk etched into it, and a pair of smiling lips preparing to suckle. As Okino stared briefly at that etching, he felt Ytheri’s lips smack gently on his neck, and a gentle hand guided him to turn his attention to the beds.
There were three beds. Two were almost like a crib, though far too big for any infant, filled with fluffy blankets, comforters and pillows—and sex toys. The bars surrounding them were padded, though they extended all the way to the ceiling, where numerous glittering gemstones dangled and spun around in endless spirals. Each had a single padlocked door, on opposite sides, so that each door was directly accessible to the massive queen-sized bed between them.
He was trying not to look at the queen-sized bed, because that was where the room’s only current occupant lay. It, too, was piled high with colorful, fluffy blankets and pillows.
But lounging in the center of it, her head propped up on several throw pillows, was a gorgeous, breathtaking creature. The buxom beauty had flowing fiery-red hair, and a delicate assortment of freckles dotted her face around her nose. Her lips were curved upwards in a dreamy smile. Her eyes were closed, though every now and then her thick eyelashes would flutter, drawing attention to her deep-painted eyelids, and her bright red lips would half-part as if gasping.
“Go on, boy,” Ytheri purred in his ear, and Okino stiffened as he felt her fingers delicately running over his shaft, teasing him, stoking his desire. “You know you want to.”
Reluctantly—but not as reluctantly as he should have been—Okino let his eyes slip down, helplessly, into the woman’s massive, heaving cleavage.
She was a holstaur. Her curved bull’s horns were one item of proof, but so were her breasts, which were covered by little more than a scandalous strip of fabric as she squeezed and pawed and groped at herself. In her free hand—and as Okino looked at how long and slender and delicate her fingers were, Ytheri’s own fingers touched around the tip of his cock, and he gasped—she held a large glass bottle.
Which she was filling. Quickly. Numerous empty bottles surrounded her, along with rubber nipples that would soon be fasted on, no doubt, as she squirted an almost steady stream of milk into the glass.
“Isn’t she lovely?” Ytheri cooed. “Isn’t she just breathtaking?”
Okino quivered and swallowed and licked his lips, staring at the holstaur’s large, prominent nipples, set against dark areolas, as she squeezed and tugged and sent another stream into the bottle.
“Her name is Delecta,” Ytheri murmured, her tongue clicking on the name right in his ear. “I caught her two years ago. Sweet thing tried so hard to get me to drink, but when I promised her a pair of mortals to keep her company… well, just look at the darling.”
Though no sound traveled through the crystal, Okino could see the holstaur whimpering, see her crying out in nearly agonized pleasure.
“W-Why…” He bit his lip, unable to hold the question in. “Why are the… beds empty?”
“You mean the cribs?” Ytheri giggled, and he quivered and bucked slightly as her fingers stroked him a bit quicker. “You know, it’s the funniest thing. I took her in soooo easily, and she was soooo happy to obey while I had those cribs built. Do you know how they work?”
“N-N—”
Okino was cut off as she suddenly grasped his cock tightly, and he cried out as she squeezed indulgently, pumping him briefly in time with Delecta’s self-milking. Pleasure flowed briefly through him as Ytheri cooed, “Would you like to?”
Okino bit back a yes, even as unbearable delight filled him. She’s not controlling you, he reminded himself desperately. You can’t give in just because it feels good!
But his moans seemed answer enough for the sorceress, who giggled. “When I catch her a nice treat, I’ll open this door, and just… let her eeeease them inside.” She reached forward, her hand forming a light fist as if she was about to knock on the door, and Okino’s heart raced. “You’d be surprised how persuasive she can be without ever leaving her bed.”
“W-Wh—” Okino’s eyes darted from her hand to Delecta’s tits. He was salivating.
Ytheri knocked twice. Her knuckles created a ringing vibration on the crystal door, not quite like ringing glass—more musical, almost.
Delecta’s eyes shot open.
Okino’s stomach clenched in fear, and a shiver passed from his toes straight to his heart as he met her eyes. Beautiful, beautiful brown eyes, cow eyes, eyes that could enslave him in an instant.
And they were eyes filled with utter joy as she smiled at him, beamed, with the expression of purest, sweetest love he’d ever beheld.
She said something. He couldn’t hear it, but he could tell her meaning from the way she batted her eyelashes, the way she straightened slightly, pouted her lips enticingly at the end.
She capped the bottle she’d been filling, set it between her legs…
“You see,” Ytheri murmured, amusement dripping from her voice as her fingers continued stroking, “first she hypnotizes them with her big, heaving, tits. Isn’t that right?”
Okino stared helplessly as the holstaur began to bounce her breasts together, very slowly, very sensuously—but quick enough that he couldn’t quite look away. She visibly giggled and said something else, a sweet, almost maternal gleam in her eye. Her breasts bounced and squished together, so visibly soft and firm, big enough to smother him, soft and smooth enough to bounce around his cock and turn his brain into pleasure-dumb mush.
Bounced. And bounced.
“That’s right,” Ytheri murmured. She stroked his cock a little faster, even as Delecta’s bouncing started to speed up, and Okino found himself panting as he stared blatantly at the bouncing, jiggling tits. “It’s just so awfully hard to look away once you’re watching her bounce. And bounce. And bounce. Up and down, so soft, so nice and sweet, and it’s soooo eeeeeasy…” her voice was almost a moan, “to just siiiink into them, a good submissive little toy, and fall…”
Okino was whimpering, bucking subconsciously, watching the holstaur giggle and keep speaking. He was focused on her breasts, bounce-bounce-bounce, but out of the corner of his eye he could almost see her mouthing the words, Good boy… pleasure was building in him as he gasped, cried, lost in Ytheri’s stroking, lost in the holstaur’s hypnotic, irresistible tits…
“Right into her arms,” Ytheri husked, nibbling his earlobe. Her stroking slowed, and Okino couldn’t hold in a whimper. “And then you know what she does?”
“N-No,” Okino whispered, and he struggled to tear his gaze away, but something about the slow, seductive edging was turning his brain into useless goo, turning him into a submissive, obedient toy…
“Would you like to?” Ytheri whimpered, almost mock-sympathetic. The holstaur seemed to be mouthing the same words, giggling as she sat up straighter, her generous thighs squeezing the milk bottle between them almost suggestively as she started to take on a slower rhythm, matching Ytheri’s edging.
Okino felt helpless. Horny. Needy. He whined.
And it was almost as if the holstaur could hear him, because she clearly laughed.
“She fucks that good boy,” Ytheri sang. “She fucks his brains out until he’s a good little boy, just a dumb bull, really. She has him suckle her, and he gets soooo silly and sweet, all he can do is obey! And all the while…” Her pumping started to speed up again, and Okino felt his head bobbing in time with Delecta’s rise and fall. “Aaaaall the while, he’s getting dumber and dumber, just her good, adoring mate while she fucks him and he suckles her like a good boy, her good pet, too dumb and in love to do anything but fuck and suck and obey.”
Okino felt like liquid. Like viscous honey, like putty in Ytheri’s dainty touches. He was practically drooling as he stared at the tits, stared at Delecta’s delectable figure, imagined falling right into her arms…
“And then,” Ytheri purred, “do you know what she does to him when he’s just her dumb, horny slaaaave?” Her hand pumped slowly up and down. Up and down.
Okino’s knees quaked. He licked his lips. Delecta giggled and blew him a kiss.
“Would you like to?” Ytheri asked sweetly.
Would you like this? Delecta seemed to be cooing, holding up one breast and bouncing it in one hand. So soft. So squishy. So warm and sweet and smooth, melting him into her arms, into her control…
“Yes,” Okino whimpered.
Ytheri giggled.
“Good boy,” he could almost hear Delecta purring in his ear.
“Then,” Ytheri said, her voice low as she slowly, agonizingly slowly stroked him, holding him teetering on the edge of bliss, “she tucks him into his bed and sends him to sleep, and whenever he even thinks about escaping, the pretty crystals above just twinkle and sparkle and send him right into a horny trance. And she has plenty of bottles of nice, sweet milk he can drink while he rests, to keep him content until she’s ready to fuck him again.”
Delecta winked. Okino whimpered.
“Of course,” Ytheri said, her stroking speeding up, “maybe he’s a very good boy. Maybe he can fuck her so well, she wants to keep him. And then… goodness, if he’s a good boy, I can’t imagine her ever letting him rest for even a second!”
Okino whimpered, moaned, clung to Ytheri as she laughed, as Delecta laughed. He was so close—so close, so close, he needed it, he needed Delecta, and Delecta was spreading her arms wide as her breasts fell down and bounced, and he felt like he was falling, too, sinking deeper and deeper and—
And Delecta vanished.
Okino blinked.
Ytheri’s hand dropped back to her side. She kissed him on the cheek as he stared, dumbly, at the closed wooden door. “But the funny thing is,” she remarked, her tone suddenly totally conversational, “I never did get around to getting the poor thing any pets! It just never came up. So she just milks herself stupid and waits for someone to come along who she can play with.”
“W-Wha…” Okino swayed. He felt like he’d been plunged into freezing cold water. His head was fuzzy, spinning, but clearing fast.
Ytheri laughed. “I guess she’ll just have to wait, though! I’m sure you won’t make the mistake of going into that room.”
Okino’s eyes drifted to the large monarch butterfly painted into the wall above the door. He knew, deep down, he would never forget this room. And he would never forget which door led to Delecta.
“Anyways,” Ytheri said, putting a finger to her lips as she started steering him onwards, “there’s plenty of other doors we might as well take a look at! I wouldn’t want you… wandering blind, after all.” She giggled. “I’ll show you a few more before I leave you again to, um… make up your mind. Okay, sweetie?”
She kissed his neck playfully.
Okino bit his lip and forced himself not to nod.
Nicole’s Note: Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! If you did, do consider heading over to my Patreon and pledging a dollar or two! I really appreciate it, and it helps me keep writing stories like this! Readers supporting my work also get access to tons of extra content—they can request and vote for future stories, read exclusive Bad Ends and flash fiction, and even be a part of my monthly “Dungeons and Dazes” games! 💖