The Temptress: Chapter Two by Tagnikzuur

A literotic sexstories: The Temptress: Chapter Two by Tagnikzuur
Here is Chapter Two of my story, after all, I wouldn’t want to leave my readers hanging or wanting for more for too long. Hopefully, the response to these first two installments will be more positive than my first submission, “Death Throes”. Please vote and comment so I know if I should continue to submit the chapters I have already written. . . .or not.

Thanks!

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Chapter Two

Feeling Amean pressing harder and harder against her hand, L’tirashin removed it from her slave’s crotch. After all, L’tirashin thought, it’s not about me pleasuring her, but her pleasuring me. She could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building just past her still sorely vacant cunt, deep in the core of her being. But it would still be some time before her cum would explode through her senses and required more intense stimulation than what she was being given to thrill her that much.

Taking Amean’s hands away from their luscious handiwork was not easy for the Night One to do since they were both enjoying it so much. Finally, L’tirashin placed her hands on Amean’s shoulders and pushed her firmly downward until her slave was kneeling before her. Standing with her feet shoulder-wide, L’tirashin grasped the back of Amean’s bald head and pushed her pretty face into her dark thatch of pubic hair. As she looked down at Amean’s bare, milky-white skin, standing in stark contrast to hers with its midnight-hued, L’tirashin became even more excited by the highly erotic sight.

The sudden lack of stimulation by her mistress’s hands made Amean whimper a bit for her own loss but she knew what her role in this coupling was: that of the dutiful slave. As she got down on her knees, Amean found her face abruptly shoved into L’tirashin’s hairy mound. The heady and musky scent wafting up from her mistress’s wet pussy was almost as intoxicating as fey wine would have been. For a few moments, Amean just rubbed her small, delicate nose against L’tirashin’s bush, letting the thick, wiry hairs tickle her nostrils. When her mistress pushed her hips forward to meet her, Amean stuck out her tongue and rubbed it against the very top of L’tirashin’s wet cunt lips and clit, quickly and lasciviously licking over every bit of flesh her talented lingua could reach.

By the Dark Ones! the demoness gasped in her thoughts. This elf is indeed a dancer! The way her tongue moves is wickedly delightful!

Amean reached up and cupped the Temptress’s tits and kneaded them somewhat roughly as her tongue continued massaging L’tirahsin’s pussy lips. It was a different kind of sensation, though a very pleasant and exciting one, for Amean to be holding a pair of breasts which were easily the size of hers and Simvanna’s combined. And how the nipples stiffened and lengthened until they were almost half as long as Amean’s little finger was an even bigger thrill.

After a few minutes of rolling and pinching L’tirashin’s big nipples between her fingers and even tugging gently on her piercings, Amean began drawing her hands down her mistress’s body. Down her ribs, across her tautly muscled stomach, over her hips, and around to L’tirashin’s tight, round ass. It was only when Amean’s hands encountered the base of the Temptress’s firm, strong tail that she was reminded of L’tirashin’s otherworldly origins.

How strange, the elven vassal thought as she continued feasting on the thick-as-honey nectar of her captor’s pussy, that a being so different from me could be so much like me. On that thought, Amean’s face broke into a wide, mischievous smile, even though L’tirashin could not see it. As stealthily as she could manage, Amean slipped one hand up to her mouth and gave her index finger a thorough and generous coating of their mingled juices. Sure of its wetness, Amean carefully positioned her hand behind her mistress’s ass, ready to give her a pleasure that she herself greatly enjoyed.

When Amean pushed her liberally wetted finger into L’tirashin’s unsuspecting anus, the demoness let out an audible gasp of surprise. Once again, L’tirashin was taken pleasantly aback by her slave’s nigh-expert pleasuring techniques. But, this time, it was the mistress who was smiling. Her new sex slave was not alone in being able to surprise a lover.

Amean’s tongue sloshed around in her mistress’s freely flowing pussy, delivering tasty mouthfuls of delectable cunt juice to her hungry oral orifice. At the same time, she was also slowly working her finger deeper and deeper into L’tirashin’s asshole. Amean had managed to get her digit in as far as the second knuckle and was not about to stop until her finger was probing deep within the Temptress’s ass.

It was while Amean was licking and sucking on her pussy that L’tirashin decided to give her sexually servile servant a surprise of her own. With the same adroitness exhibited by Amean, the Temptress silently slipped her agile tail between the elf’s shapely legs. Thanks to her centuries of libidinous experience, L’tirashin knew from instinct how to precisely position her extra appendage for the intrusion she wished to achieve. As the Night One felt the heat within her rising even higher, heralding the approach of what felt like an especially intense climax, L’tirashin flicked the tip of her tail through Amean’s wet slit and against her stiff clit.

To the demoness, her slave’s response was as immediate as it was predictable.

Amean’s surprise caused her to shove the remainder of her finger into L’tirashin’s asshole as her teeth bit down hard on her mistress’s clit. Amean was fearful of the violent reaction she fully expected for her clumsiness—but it never came.

Instead, L’tirashin was in a state of pure bliss. Perhaps she would add this one to her already considerable harem of love slaves. Amean was demonstrating that she had quite a bit of sexual talent and experience to her credit and it seemed such a shame to let it remain unappreciated and unenjoyed. To the demoness, it seemed as if many of her other “prisoners of love” had become a bit wearisome and boring.

Yes, the Temptress decided, as a wicked gleam came to her eyes. It’s been far too long since my harem has been as invigorating and exciting as it was. Perhaps now is precisely when things should change. And this one will make a good start on that change.

As another hot rush of heat raced through L’tirashin’s pussy, the demonic vixen let herself fall back onto her throne just as she felt her legs start to tremble a bit. On reflex, her wings spread wide behind her and gently cushioned her short fall and partially concealing the horrific chair from view. Not for a single moment did the demoness let her grip on Amean falter. As she half-sat/half-fell, she dragged her favorite new sex toy along with her, keeping her slave’s head locked against her cunt.

Being pulled forward by her mistress, Amean’s vaginal flower opened a bit further and was now mostly exposed to the penetration being perpetrated by L’tirashin’s tail. As soon as Amean’s knees touched the floor, she felt her pussy lips pushed open by the blunt end of her mistress’s tail. The sensation of that first moment caused Amean’s senses to swim wildly and her eyes rolled up in their sockets.

While the young elf had had a fair share of lovers in her life, none of them had ever thrilled her the way she was experiencing at that moment. The demoness’s tail looked and felt very much like a huge phallus but, unlike a normal cock, the Night One’s tail could flex up and down, left and right, touching places deep in Amean’s pussy never before reached by any other. It was even trying to push its way into her even deeper, past her cervix and up into her womb. The walls of Amean’s pussy were beginning to spasm and ripple as numerous small orgasms danced through her lithe body, leading up to what she was hoping to be the gut-wrenching climax she was longing for.

L’tirashin was feeling rather randy as Amean tongued her cunt but she also felt as if something was. . .missing. . .in the sex play going on. Gazing at the ceiling far above was all it took for the demoness to realize what that missing something was. She had nothing with which to occupy her own mouth and tongue. L’tirashin smiled an iniquitous smile.

“You!” she said, pointing at Simvanna. “Come here!”

From habit, Simvanna responded to the summons a heart beat before she was even aware she was doing so. There was no doubt in the elf’s mind as to why she was being called over; the Night One was wanting her to join in and make the two-some a three-some. While this distressed Simvanna some, refusing to take part would only invite the Temptress’s wrath. Silently, Simvanna quickly crossed the chamber to the throne.

L’tirashin was well aware of a great number of things about Simvanna aside from the intense hatred she harbored for the demoness. But the same thing could be said about all her slaves. Whether they were part of the household staff, common laborers in the fields, or workers in the mines, numerous magical items throughout the demoness’s stronghold—and beyond—kept her well informed of nearly everything going on, without being obvious or intrusive. It did surprise L’tirashin that the normally humiliating experience of the “cleansing bath” had had little to no effect in breaking Simvanna’s spirit, and likewise how the elf had managed to conceal that fact so well and for so long. But sooner or later, something in Simvanna would break. Either Simvanna’s strong will would ultimately wear away or the still prideful slave would openly defy her mistress. If it were the latter, L’tirashin knew she would have no other recourse than to. . .

But such thoughts were for a later time. Right then, it was L’tirashin’s wanton desires that needed to be satisfied, even if only for the moment.

As her sister had done, Simvanna hurriedly approached L’tirashin’s throne, her eyes steadily locked on the floor. She hesitated at the bottom of the steps for a moment before ascending. In the span of a few dozen fear-inspired heartbeats, Simvanna was at the top and standing beside the hideous chair, trying not to look the Night One in the eyes without her leave.

At the moment, L’tirashin was hardly concerned about such trivial formalities. What she wanted was to taste the sweet juices of another woman.

“Strip,” L’tirashin commanded. “Straddle my throne then lower yourself onto my face. I want to tongue your pussy. Now!”

The Tempress’s emphatic command made Simvanna move instantly. With haste, the elven slave got naked then gingerly placed her left hand and foot on the bone-crafted throne and held her breath. When nothing happened, she pulled herself up but was mindful not to step on her mistress’s wings. Simvanna placed a foot on both of the throne’s arms and steadied herself for a moment before lowering herself toward L’tirashin’s waiting mouth. Simvanna hesitated a moment when she came face to “face” with the skull mounted at the apex on the backrest of the throne, as well as being able to see those that comprised the wall. A shiver raced up Simvanna’s back. She was not only much closer to the gruesome seat than she ever had any intention on getting but she was actually touching it!

And what they were doing! To be having sex atop of what was more or less a mass grave felt so completely blasphemous that Simvanna was sure she would be spending her afterlife in some “special” place in the Ten Hells reserved for just such defilers. The mere thought twisted the knots in her stomach tighter. Simvanna had also opted to face away from her sister, as she was still having a difficult time with the image of Amean’s delicate flower being pummeled almost mercilessly. But, Simvanna did have to admit that it looked every bit as exciting as it was disturbing.

L’tirashin had very little patience for waiting when it came to matters involving her slaves. The demoness reached up, grabbed hold of her slave’s thighs and pulled her down onto her eager mouth. As her tongue swiped through Simvanna’s moistening slot for the first time, L’tirashin found herself in a forgiving mood and decided it had been well worth the momentary delay. As she knew they would, the elf’s juices had a delicate sweetness about them. It had been the dark sovereign’s experience that the love juices from dwarves, orks, and humans frequently had either a lightly tart or sour taste to them, but almost never an elf. L’tirashin considered that it was perhaps because of their reverence for, and close connection to, nature that could account for the phenomenon. Ultimately, she chose to just enjoy it as much and as often as she could, instead of needlessly pondering the matter.

On Tiaceor, humans were the inventive lovers, dwarves had delightful stamina, an ork could throw a mean fuck into a girl at the drop of a dagger, and elves could protract a single sexual encounter into lasting almost a full day. L’tirashin enjoyed them all. She even had a few unique love slaves for variety: a male and female centaur; a big, bull minotaur; and a beguiled, young sapphire blue dragon—for those times when she felt like being really, really naughty—were just some of those who rounded out her extensive harem quite nicely.

L’tirashin diddled her tongue rapidly against Simvanna’s clit, eliciting a moan of delight from her. The Night One’s own sounds of pleasure were muffled by her mouth being busy with Simvanna’s pussy, as were Amean’s with her mistress’s.

Amean had since switched tactics and was licking both L’tirashin’s cunt and anus; first one then the other, then across them both, making the Temptress gyrate, wiggle, and grind her pelvis against her tongue. For her part, Amean was thoroughly enjoying the fuck her mistress’s tail was giving her slick pussy. In and out it plunged, faster and faster with each stroke and feeling as if it was gaining the smallest fraction of an inch every time it invaded her inner regions.

Simvanna could hardly help what she was feeling as the amazing sensations being provided by L’tirashin’s highly skilled mouth and tongue flooded her senses, taking Simvanna to ever-higher plateaus of ecstasy. The elf cupped her small boobs, first massaging them then pinching her nipples until they were taut and pink and pointed straight out like tiny lances.

L’tirashin’s long, dark crimson lingua delved deep into Simvanna’s cleft, piercing her like a wet, flexible penis. From the way her orally captivated slave was beginning to ride her mouth, she knew it would only be a short time before she would be drinking down her sweet effusion. The Temptress smiled as her tongue continued to dart and swirl in and out of Simvanna’s cunt. As she had done with Amean, L’tirashin had a pleasant little surprise in store for Simvanna. The demoness’s little oral surprise always managed to take the breath away from her female lovers, as well as making them squirt all over her face.

Without a word, L’tirashin split her tongue in two as she held it just beyond the lips of Simvanna’s succulent pussy. As she plunged her now forked tongue forward, one of the two halves slipped back into Simvanna’s waiting snatch while the other started burrowing its way into her unsuspecting asshole.

Simvanna gasped loudly when the dual sensation crashed over her like a wave, making her raise up a tiny bit in surprise. Her eyes rolled up in their sockets as she let out a loud moan of delight. Never before had she experienced such a thrill! While her fear of the Night One had hardly diminished, Simvanna could scarcely deny the truth that her mistress knew how to lick pussy.

Amean was working her own tongue and finger very busily. At the same time, she was also thrusting her hips back harder and harder as L’tirashin’s tail slid in and out. In her mind, only two things mattered: orgasming on the Night One’s wonderful tail and supplying the best climax she could induce in her mistress.

The trio’s simultaneous cumming jolted through their bodies like crackling bolts of sexual lightning and their ecstatic screams sounded like a trio of wolvers raising their voices in tribute to Tiaceor’s moons.

Amean’s cunt juices were streaming down her thighs and the Temptress’s tail as the elf’s pussy convulsed and grabbed at the welcome intruder.

As L’tirashin came, her juices filled Amean’s mouth so full of her ebullition that it dribbled from the elf’s dainty chin as she tried valiantly to keep up with the flow.

Simvanna was sitting fully on L’tirashin’s face when thought that she was probably as close to suffocating L’tirashin as she would ever get ran through her mind. The willful elf smiled at the notion but kept on riding her mistress’s forked tongue, determined to force it inside her as deep as it could go, riding it as if it were a wriggling, double-headed cock. The sweltering heat of her orgasm hit her like a wizard’s fireball a moment later.

For a long while, the sexually replete trio just stayed where they were, quietly enjoying the afterglow between them. Previously fast-moving hands—and other things—now just caressed slowly and gently each other as light kisses were pressed against sex-flushed skin. As was usual, the demoness was the first to disengage herself from her lovers’ embrace.

“Mmmmm,” the demoness purred as she rose then offered her slaves her hands and helped them to their feet. “That was lovely.”

“Thank you, mistress,” the sisters said in unison.

“For providing me with such excellent sport, you may have the rest of the day to yourselves. But. . .” L’tirashin paused with a salacious smile on her lips. Seeing she held the rapt attention of her vassals, she went on. “Tonight, I desire the two of you to come to me again, in my private chambers, where we will explore as-of-yet untried avenues of pleasure.”

“As you command, my mistress,” Amean said with a genuine and exuberant smile. Despite the way they had been indoctrinated into slavery and being stripped so completely of everything (a divestment that still haunted her nightmares), perhaps many of the rumors Amean had heard about her mistress were either terrible exaggerations or outright lies. In the elf’s mind, she just could not see how someone who was supposed to be so wholly evil could understand the intricacies and nuances of love making as fully as the Night One. While the Temptress demanded absolute loyalty from all whome she commanded and ruled, it was no less than what she was due. Besides, there had to be some kind of order to obey and it was beginning to make less and less difference to Amean that it was the demoness who ruled over a part of the world.

Despite Amean’s enthusiasm, it was Simvanna’s silence that attracted L’tirashin’s notice even more. “What seems to be the matter, my slave?” L’tirashin asked as she placed her hands on Simvanna’s hips and lightly touched her forehead to the elf’s bald pate. Since L’tirashin stood as tall as a typical human male, this made her almost a full head taller than Simvanna. But the demoness may as well have been standing as tall as a tree before the elf. Simvanna could feel her fear beginning to re-assert itself and it was only because of her unbroken will that she was able to remain standing in the demoness’ presence.

A silent threat of death always hovered around L’tirashin like an invisible shroud. And even more so when she had taken a “special interest” in someone; much like the way she had with Simvanna.

“Weren’t you enjoying yourself just now, my sweet? Hmmmm?” L’tirashin delighted in watching the panic build in her slave’s eyes. She knew Simvanna reviled her very presence on this world and would gladly see the demoness destroyed if she could. Breaking the spirit of this one will be quite an excellent challenge, L’tirashin mused, and one I look forward to.

The strong-willed elf felt herself drawing inexorably closer to taking flight from the demoness but Simvanna knew she would never get very far. Even if L’tirashin let her run, she would probably be stopped in her tracks by the first magical or mundane trap she came encountered. Simvanna’s only two choices then would be either recapture or death. There was also the question of what would happen to Amean; the Temptress may choose to vent her rage on her sister, something the prideful elf would never forgive herself for allowing to happen. No, the near to despairing Simvanna thought, It would be wiser to remain. . .for now.

Just as Simvanna opened her mouth a little to respond, L’tirashin lifted Simvanna’s chin and forced a deep kiss on her flustered slave. As their tongues caressed each other, the demoness could feel her vassal tense up for the briefest moment before compelling herself to relax and “enjoy” the embrace. After a long, lingering kiss, L’tirashin released her.

“There,” the Temptress said with a satisfied smile. “Perhaps that will help you to make up your mind about joining your sister and I later.” With the same abruptness a change in the wind, so too did L’tirashin’s voice and manner. “Now, go!” she commanded the pair in an icy tone, as she dismissed them with a grandiose flourish of her hand. “I have matters of far greater importance to attend to than the likes of you.”

As the sisters bent to gather their cast-off dresses and take leave of their mistress, a gnarled, man-sized staff floated down from somewhere near the throne room’s dark and unlit ceiling and drifted silently into L’tirashin’s raised hand. In the blink of an eye, the demoness’s nudity was at least partially concealed by a tattered, blood red camisole that had been cut-off just below L’tirashin’s breasts. A matching loincloth did its best to conceal the Night One’s hairy bush but without much success. As Amean and Simvanna quickly made their way down the dais stairs and out of the chamber, L’tirashin addressed her remaining slaves.

“The rest of you are dismissed as well. You may return to finish up your chores, as well as the ones of those two, after evening fast.” Without uttering a word, the Night One’s slaves obeyed and vacated the room.

L’tirashin assumed her throne again but waited a long while before doing anything other than that, lest a prying eye or ear glean even the tiniest tidbit of knowledge that would be best left unknown—at least for the time being.

While she sat, L’tirashin took some time for contemplation. Her plans to bring this magic-rich world to heel under the control of her and her demonic brethren were moving ahead faster than she had dared dream. Within a century, Tiaceor would become a little pocket of the Abyss in the mortal realm!

But then, why was she feeling less than elated with her victories thus far? Even after all she had managed to accomplish, both on this world and back in the Everdark, why was she feeling so. . .alone? It was as if there was a permanent hole in her dark spirit that no amount of sex, power, or magic could ever fill.

Of course, she knew why.

And that emptiness would always remain.

It had been so long ago for her that it often seemed more like a life stolen from someone else rather then her own. Millennia ago, L’tirashin Jaduor: succubus; demon; War Mistress of the Doom Legions of Woeful Iscandar; and ruler of the nation of Demnos; had known true love. For the briefest moment, the Night One felt herself on the very edge of tears, something that had not happened since. . .

Enough!!! L’tirashin scolded herself. Remember: he betrayed you!!!

The Temptress straightened herself on her regal seat, regaining the composure she had almost lost. That life was ancient history on a world that no longer existed; an event she herself had witnessed. All that mattered was. . .now! And the future and her place in it. It was time for her to review her plans and. . .strike!!

As she lifted her enchanted staff, it glowed with a deep blue aura of power, streaked through with veins of scarlet. A moment later, all five of the audience chamber’s thirty-foot high doors slammed shut with deafening bangs and a like number of arm-sized keys turned themselves in their equally huge locks. L’tirashin then waved her magicked stave at the huge windows to her right. Rock suddenly materialized and sealed the openings from which she had enjoyed her earlier view of Xyn. Once assured of her desired privacy, L’tirashin finally summoned what she knew demanded such secrecy.

“Noakcha eeina shaamshi!” the Temptress commanded in the language of magic. The effect was immediate and breathtaking. In the middle of the vast chamber a lucent, ghostly image of the world of Tiaceor appeared. Each nation was represented by a different color and that country’s capitol was displayed as a shining blue-white star. Amid the brightly colored hues, only one nation, a whole continent was shown in black: Eleasheua. Demnos. L’tirashin studied the phantom planet as it hung silently in mid-air, slowly turning on its axis.

Yes. Far more important things to do, indeed.

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