“Foot traffic tomorrow is going to be hell.” Brianna sighed, scratching her head as she pondered the map of Alkandra, “I’ll have to be up three hours before dawn just to coordinate things with Faltia.”
“You don’t need my help?”
“What I need is a good night’s sleep.” Brianna smiled crookedly at me, “And frankly, Adrianna, you aren’t conducive to a good night’s sleep.”
“Careful throwing stones in whore houses, Brianna.” I smirked back.
Brianna laughed, then turned toward the bridge. “There she is. What the hell took her so long?”
Kiera came walking across the bridge as naked as the day she was born, her white robe in her hands, a bewildered expression on her face.
“Oh, she’s fucked up.” Brianna laughed, and ran to her paramour. They embraced, and walked hand-in-hand to the castle.
I looked up at the east castle tower, where the windows were alight. Furia had returned to her students before dusk fell, and would be ensconced for the night in her indoctrination process. Alexa was working the night hours with Tim to get the arena ready for tomorrow’s inaugural games, and Eva, Soraya, and Faltia was already asleep, getting ready to rise early for their duties. It was strange. I’d done such a good job delegating tasks, that I suddenly found myself with little to do, and for the first night since Castle Thorum, I was alone. And that was OK.
I got off the bench, and moved into the crowd. Where would I go? Where would the river of people take me? I let myself be swept into it, following the ebbs and flows of bodies until I was in a tavern. The revelry was at a fever-pitch, the laughter nearing a scream, the jubilance bordering on mania. I moved like liquid through the bodies, almost all of them orcs that stood at least a foot taller than I, yet I did not feel closed in. They parted for me when they saw me, and smiled with wide, welcoming tusked grins, delighted that I was there.
“Here, Governess!” shouted an orc. He was a fat old Terdini man, his bald head covered in tattoos. I sat beside him, and he produced a pitcher of ale. “You need to catch up!” He laughed, and there was laughter all around. I looked over my shoulder to see that I’d become the center of attention, all eyes watching me. I hoisted the massive pitcher, tipped it back, and downed the whole thing in three seconds. Granted, more than half of it ended up on my robe, but the feat still drew cheers from the surrounding beasts, and those cheers only grew louder when I stood on the bar, and spiked the pitcher onto the floor with a crash.
“Get me another!” I roared, and emptied my pockets onto bar, “Get the whole fuckin’ house another! Don’t stop pouring drinks until you’ve run dry!”
That certainly made me some new friends. There was a roar of approval, and the percussive music kicked in, and the fever-pitch revelry resumed at a higher octave. I downed pitcher after pitcher, the front of my robe becoming so wet that it was translucent. A bold she-orc decided to suck the ale from my fabric, and the crowd cheered her on as I arched my back, tipping back my head so that more ale could be poured into my open mouth. Then I grabbed that woman hard by back of her head, and pulled her into a sloppy kiss. She wilted in the heat of my passion, allowing me to loom over her and devour her mouth, and when I was done, I yanked her head back, and shoved her face between my legs.
“Another round!” I called, and my call was answered with a hail of approval. The she-orc made me come after my fifth glass, and I was so surprised by it that I threw my head back and shrieked, dousing her face in my sudden expulsion.
The tavern ran dry, and the crowd moved onto the street. I was hoisted onto an orc’s shoulders and carried above everyone.
“Where do you want to go?” My steed asked me. I looked around, realizing that I was drawing quite the following. Scores of eyes were staring up at me, wondering where the fun would go next. My gaze rested upon a torchlit sign depicting a woman on a pole. That would do.
I was in a strip club, pounding my hand against the stage, cackling at a joke the man beside me had said. I couldn’t even remember what the punchline was, but it was the most hilarious fucking thing I’d ever heard. He was an Ardeni orc, one of Faltia’s boy by the tattoo on his arm. The stripper was a goblin girl, hardly over four feet, but bodacious despite her frame. She moved with sinuous grace that reminded of me of an amphibian, then collected her coins into the pouch at her hip, and leapt into the arms of the customer who had paid the most.
“Get up there!” One the men beside me jeered.
“Governess! Governess! Governess!” They started to call, and I was compelled onto the stage. I’d never danced a day in my life, and certainly not as a woman, but the moment the deep tribal drums kicked in, my body moved with instinct. I drew my hands along my side, displaying the curves beneath my wet robes, craning my neck and rolling my head languidly like the music was lolling me into a trance. My hips swayed, my belly flexed, my breasts jutted from my chest, the nipples pointing through the fabric. I grabbed the pole, wrapped my legs around it, and spun. The pole rotated with me, and the room became a blur of circular motion, but I was not dizzy. I undulated against the pole, sliding it between my robed buttocks, feeling the warm metal against my anus through the fabric. I climbed the brass column, then spun upside-down and locked my legs. My robe cascaded from me, and stretched my arms to let it fall to the stage. There were cheers, I was sure, but the only think I heard was the music, the bass drum beating in my chest, thrumming with the primal instincts that guided me. I slid down the pole and crouched onto the stage, then drew my hands out before me, and stretched until my ass was high in the air, and my face was down.
I felt hands on my hips. I didn’t protest. I was hoisted into the air, and pressed between two orc bodies. I still danced, undulating between them, rocking my hips as I slowly penetrated both my holes with their cocks. I cried out, but still I moved down them, taking every delicious inch, their girths too big, and yet, I stretched for them, loving the pain of it, hissing through it until my hiss was a purr, and my cheeks pillowed against their crotches. They began to fuck me, lifting my small body up and dropping it, impaling me relentlessly to the rhythm of the bass. The drummer changed the timing, accelerating, and they fucked me harder, moving as one, making me feel the fullness of their hot rods stabbing into my soft innards again and again, rubbing against the division of my holes, ruining me. I screamed in pleasure, wrapping my hands around the neck of the man behind me, arching my back, touching navels with the man before me. Their fingers molded into the fat of my ass and the pliant meat of my breasts, and they drove, drove, drove into me, breaking through my resistances until I was conformed just for them, my body violated to custom-fit their cocks. I screamed in fluctuation, my hair flailing, my hips rocking desperately, and when they roared out their orgasm, I roared out mine, sounding a harmony over the cheers of the crowd. The pulled out, and my yawning holes expelled their fluid onto the stage, dripping in sticking strings. They bent me over in front of everyone and showed the whole building what they’d done to me. They were applauded appropriately for their performance.
But I hadn’t even gotten started with my night. I downed more drinks, exchanged spit with strangers, laughed and shouted to the sky. I was in the street once more, and I was naked as could be. I was on the back of a centaur woman, and I was groping her breasts as she led my army of revelers down the thoroughfare.
“There!” I yelled, pointing at a sign I couldn’t even read. But boy, it sure was shiny. Ten minutes later, I was in the corner of a fighting ring, my hands wrapped, the crowd worked into a frenzy by the announcer. How the hell had I gotten here? How the hell was I still standing upright? I was seeing double, swaying on my feet in my corner of the ring. My night was about to end very violently, and very embarrassingly. Oh well. I wouldn’t remember it, even if I would be heckled about it for the rest of my life. The challenger appeared. She had a robust body, pale skin, girlish features, and bright red hair. And when I saw the succubus horns and tail, I nearly cried in relief.
She moved like a serpent, seductive and slow, every motion a languorous invitation to touch her. I guessed she hadn’t gotten the memo about us dark-elves. When she reached out to grasp my hand, I took it. Her eyes went wide, and my grin became evil. It was, after all, impossible to rape a succubus.
I had her on her belly, wrapping her hands together behind her back with her own tail, hearing her sweet calls for mercy. They were disingenuous pleas. Before the cheers of the masses, I spread her fat pale cheeks, and planted my face between them. She moaned beautifully as my tongue traversed her folds, tasting her sweet nectar, sliding into her heat. Her petals brushed along my lips, her most walls fluttered, and when my searching tip found the spot within her, her entire channel contracted in glee. I tortured that spot for a while, sloppily sucking upon her outer-lips as my tongue did its damage. When I was sure she was near the edge, I pulled out, my muzzle wet with her lust, and I spit onto her winking anus, and feasted upon it. She panted heavily against the mat, squirming and begging, and I smiled with my tongue in her ass, swirling her vile entrance until it was swollen with pleasure. I retreated to admire my handy work, marveling at the ruined state of the begging whore before me. Then I pinched the fingers of my hands together, and I penetrated both her holes.
“Oh fuck!” She blubbered before the raucous spectators. My hands were enveloped to the wrist, and then my forearms were consumed halfway, her fleshy cuffs pulsating with her accelerating heart, her insides flooding with hormones that wafted into my nose. I thrusted in and out, and her cries became louder and higher, and the crowd reached its boiling point, and flooded into the ring. We were taken. The hands that grasped me were shaking with desire, the cocks that were presented to me looked near to bursting. Oh, the poor things had been so pent up! It would be my responsibility to relieve them then.
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