Queen Yavara

CRYSTAL

The arrival of the Dark Queen had disrupted the equilibrium of the Gorge. Brock, already insecure about his position, was made even more so, and Master's concerns about the intentions of her beloved had deepened. I could see the rift that was forming between Brock and Master, and indeed, the rift in Yavara's own court. As of now, the greatest threat the two posed was to each other, for the division they sowed would pull at the Dark Queen, and paralyze her. The morally-flexible Zander Fredeon wouldn't allow such a division to form, and I feared what he and his Prestira might do if they felt Master and Brock had worn out their usefulness. So, I took matters into my own hands.

"Mother, what are you doing?!" Diamond gasped.

I looked up at my first born. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Pissing in the whisky!"

"Your eyesight hasn't failed you Dear." I smiled at her, squatting over the gallon jug.

Diamond glanced nervously over her shoulder. "Why are you pissing in Brock's whisky?"

"Do you hear that?" I inclined my head to the boisterous sounds in the next room, "Does that sound like a happy party, or drunken brawl ready to happen?"

Diamond listened to the sounds of tense laughter, cutting jests and cautious jeers. She turned back to me. "A brawl ready to happen."

"Exactly." I said, standing up and blotting myself with a nearby towel. "And in our urine, is a very special little chemical. It makes people happy, and it makes them want to love each other. They sound like they could use some love." I pushed the cork back into the jug's head. "Besides," I grinned at Diamond, hoisting the jug, "Brock's whisky tastes like piss anyway; no one will notice the difference."

ELENA

"Brock, your whisky tastes like piss!" I cackled, spraying the table.

Brock growled, the knife flashing between his fingers.

"And... time. Thirty seconds." Certiok said, swaying precariously on her feet beside her father-in-law.

Brock imbedded the knife into the wood, a confident smirk on his face. "Drink the piss, Ranger."

I sneered at the orc, and downed another shot of his disgusting concoction. At least the burn killed my taste buds. I belched, wiped my mouth, then pulled the knife from the tabletop. Slapping my hand onto the table, I splayed my fingers, and steadied the knife. God, this shit was strong. I was already seeing double.

"Elena are you sure that's a good decision?" Zander asked beside me, nursing his drink with Prestira pinned to his side.

"You know where good decisions get you, Zander?" I slurred, squinting at my spread hand, trying to decipher which one was the real one, "They get you a couple kids, a steady job, and a mid-life crisis. Then you die."

"You're too young to be this cynical."

"You're too old to be this boring. Aaaaand, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop-chop-chop, if I miss the space in between, my fingers will come off!" I sang, stabbing the knife into the table in time with the song, "And if I hit my fingers, blood will soon come out, but all the same I play this game because that's what it's all about! Time!"

Certiok raised her brows. "Twenty-five seconds."

I leaned over, my nose an inch from Brock's. "Drink, orc."

Brock grinned, and downed his shot. "I just have to outlast you, Ranger. How many more shots can that little body take before Zander has to pump your stomach?"

"For someone who looks like half a ton, you're a fucking light weight." I laughed, stumbling back into my chair, "Besides, Zander will be reattaching your fingers long before I get alcohol poisoning."

"I'm tempted to just let you two live with your mistakes." Zander frowned at us. Down the table Trenok and Patricia were in a heated arm-wrestling match, Yavara egging them on. Well, Trenok was in a heated arm-wrestling match; Patricia was making a show of yawning and checking her nails. With an effortless motion of her forearm, she flung Trenok clear off the edge of the table, much to the delight of the bubbly Dark Queen.

I grinned at Brock. "Like father, like son. You can give up before you embarrass yourself; there's no shame in losing to a woman."

"Is that what you're calling yourself?" Brock grunted, steadying the knife.

I slid the robe off my shoulders, and let it fall to my waist. Brock gawked at my bare breasts, his poised hand swaying. "What's the matter, Brock?" I tittered, "Something distracting you?" I hunched forward onto the tabletop, pressing my breasts together, sucking my thumb.

Brock tore his gaze away, fixed his jaw, and steadied his hand. Boisterously singing the song, he ran the knife between his fingers with lightning speed, then stabbed the table. "Time!"

"Twenty seconds." Certiok announced.

I slammed another drink before the leering orc chieftain, a drop of burning whisky dribbling down my chin, splashing on my chest, and running to my nipple. God, I was hot. My body seemed to burn beneath the skin, but not just with the warmth of liquor. I was becoming increasingly aware of the growing stiffness between my legs, barely concealed by the bunched robe in my lap. And oh, I was

wet!

I took the knife in one hand, and planted the other onto the tabletop. The grains of the wood surface were rough and pleasant against my hand, a juxtaposition to the smooth handle in my other palm, warm with body heat, the cold sharp steel at the end, glinting in the firelight. I wondered how it would feel laid across my bare flesh, the deadly edge tickling me in vulnerable places, guided by a dangerous, teasing hand.

God, what the hell is happening to me?

"Elena!" An indignant voice yelled. Yavara strode behind Brock, her gait a struggle of intoxication, "How dare you expose yourself before your queen!"

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Of course!" Yavara huffed, raising her chin. Then her lips creased into a wicked smile, and she slid out of her dress, "You can only expose yourself

after

your queen."

My eyes fixated on Yavara breasts, the pink nipples hard and moist against her bronze globes, which were perched in gravity-defying fullness above her flat belly. I didn't know why they transfixed me so; I'd seen them plenty of times, but oh... oh, they looked so

good!

"Yavara, cover yourself." I hissed, holding the knife aloft, "You're distracting me."

"Am I?" Yavara grinned, leaning onto the table, "Then it's a fair contest." She giggled, "Brock is practically lifting the table with his cock right now." Her voice became low in my ear, "I think your little minions have been busy little bees."

I looked over Brock's shoulder, where in the shadows surrounding the hut, Crystal was biting her lip, looking as guilty as could be. I glanced over at Prestira, whose porcelain face was flushed, her skin glimmering beautifully, her white eyes transfixed on me. Zander was staring a hole through Certiok's head, Certiok was ogling him back, Trenok was rubbing his shoulder as he gazed at Patricia, who was returning the look with red ravenous eyes. With effort, I raised the knife over my hand. It seemed the entire room hinged on my movement, their eyes fixing on the edge of the knife, their breaths bated. They were waiting, waiting for blood to be drawn so that they could become animals. The semblance of civility was crumbling, the very fabric of society stretching at the point of my blade, longing to tear. I didn't even sing the song, but simply stabbed the table in flurry of motion, my rhythm gone, my vision hazed, the blood pounding in my ears. I could smell the arousal in the room, the hormone-rich perfume that sublimed from our loins, that primal signaler that saturated the ancient parts of our minds. Thump, thump, thump; was it the blade hitting the table, or my heart beating in my chest? I couldn't know. Thump, thump, thump. I gasped, sweet pain lancing up my forearm. The knife wagged into the table, its slim edge opening the tip of my finger. The room was silent as I held my hand aloft, and watched the deep crimson draw a path into my palm. A covetous hand clasped me gently, and brought my finger to blood-red lips. I barely recognized Prestira in her vampiric form. Her features were a display of gothic beauty, and with a shrug of her shoulders, her silver robe cascaded from her, revealing a body that had transformed into a celebration of muscle and curves. Her slit pupils consumed her irises as she took my finger into her mouth, and sucked it.

"Delicious." She whispered, her voice sounding through the room, "Can I have more?"

"Yes." I whispered back.

Then it began. I didn't know who coupled with who, but I saw the flurry of motion, heard the moans and cries, smelled the joining of flesh. Prestira had me against the wall, my wrists pinned above my head, her mouth consuming mine. Our tongues entangled voraciously, her fangs biting into my lips, secreting her narcotic into me. The wet squishing of our breasts deepened with the joining of our bodies, our thighs pressing, my cock traversing her abdomen, springing between her legs, gliding through her petals. Entering her.

PRESTIRA

I wore my vampiric body like armor. I wasn't Prestira Rasloraca, the woman who'd been raped to insanity; I was this beast, this apex killer who knew no weakness. I growled into Elena's mouth as I took every inch of her, feeling her bulging against my tender walls, splitting me. She was a woman, not one of those things that had tortured Prestira Rasloraca, but a being of my own disposition. She looked into my eyes with an empathy only our sex could have, and she drove her hips with a compassion a man never could. She was perfect, my angel, my healer. I wrapped my lips about her throat, and drank freely of her blood. She surged into me as I extracted life from her, my body burning with it, the enchanting toxins of the dark-elf. I gasped when I'd had my fill of her, my eyes rolling back, my nerves electrified.

We were on the floor. I was straddling her, my thighs locked around her waist as she impaled me relentlessly, a piston that fucked deeper with every drive. There were little fingers on my shoulders, on my hips, on my ass, and they pulled apart my clapping cheeks to snake long forked tongues into my anus. I cried out, looking over my shoulder to see a redhead and a caramel brunette joining their tongues in a spiral of wet flesh, their expressions wrought with lechery as they slithered deep into my vile tightness, cleaning me out. There were more of them then, all six of them, framing me, their petite bodies seeping warmth into mine, their tongues gliding along my curves, entering my mouth, wrapping my nipples. Elena drove forward with a succession of thrusts, and I was on my back in a bed of women, their gentle flesh encasing me, bringing me deeper into their embrace.

"Taste me." The matriarch whispered, drawing her fingers up her tantalizing throat.

"No!" I gasped.

She smiled warmly at me. "I can see what's been done to you, Prestira Rasloraca, and it can only be undone by the same blood."

"Please, no!" I cried, fearing more than anything what my body craved, my blood remembering the poison the pirates had put in me, the extract of succubus.

Elena leaned in through the press women, her bronze features relaxed in kindness, her lips parting to expel her pleasured breaths. She framed my face with her hands, her fingers entangling in my ringlets, and she drove into me with long hard thrusts, making me feel every wonderful inch of her. My thighs splayed, my chin tilted, and I gasped with every long retreat and sudden entrance.

"Give it to me." I whispered, my eyes topping my lids, my mouth gaping. My belly clenched in rolls of flesh below my swaying breasts, each nipple taken by a sucking mouth. Elena fucked me like I wanted, like I needed, showing me with every thrust what it meant to love cock.

"Take it." Elena hissed, her body tense and restrained, holding back on what she wanted to do to me. It used to excite me beyond description to imagine what a man would do to me when he had control, what pleasures he would force into me through his violence and rage. Had that part of me died? I looked at the presented throat of the one called 'Crystal,' and drew my gaze along the vein. With trepidation, I placed my mouth around her neck, and bit.

Sweet pleasure washed through me, a warmth and desire that was terribly familiar, but oh, so sweet! I was encased it in, radiating from within as I lounged in the bed of flesh, indulging in the excess of women. "Oh, fuck me!" I groaned, a sound that was both joyous and defeated. Elena did. She grabbed my thighs, spread me wide, and rammed into me without mercy, pummeling my pelvis with her crotch, sending those sweet shocks deep, deep inside me. The tongues wriggled in my ass, reentered my throat, wrapped my nipples, and Crystal herself straddled my belly so that she could play with my clit. Overloaded in the sea of soft pleasures and hard ecstasy, I lost my mind to the poison in my blood. I arched my back, pressing my asscheeks into the two women eating the hole between them, rising in bow of euphoria. I turned my head and connected eyes with Yavara across the room.

Hi Mommy.

She grinned open-mouthed, her face possessed with pleasure, her body bent over atop the table, Brock behind her.

Hi baby-girl.

YAVARA

I turned my gaze from Prestira, and back to my meal. Certiok's thong was shoved to the side, revealing her tight pussy-lips as they gripped Zander's shaft. Her face turned about a muscular shoulder to give me a beckoning leer, her breast-strap hugging the toned splendor of her tattooed back. My eyes drew up the delicious length of her lewd options, and rested on the puckered center of her anus. She winked it for me. I grabbed her succulent cheeks with both hands, buried my face between them, and tasted her vile hole. It was impossible for to me to be delicate with my tongue when Brock was driving into my cunt like he wanted to split me in half, each thrust squishing my face into the elastic crack before me. So I devoured Certiok's shithole with sloppy gluttony, tasting the decedent tang of her, enjoying the soft wet texture therein. She looked back with wide eyes, her full lips parted to yield moan after moan. Sweat ran in rivulets down her spine, pooling against the point of my nose, carrying the richness of her arousal into my nostrils. I grinned deviously around my consumption, and deepened the penetration of my wriggling tongue, sucking upon her rim until it was swollen and throbbing. All the while, Brock drove into me, his cock sliding through my tight reaches, pounding into my cervix, sending spasms deep into my belly. My back bowed, my shoulders pinched together, and I drove my hips back in contest with him, meeting in the middle, each impact electrifying me to the tips of my fingers and toes. I growled like a beast, slid my thumbs into Certiok's ass, and pried. She snarled back at me, the warrior princess flashing rage and desire in turn, her athletic back flexing in its bow. I burrowed my muzzle into her widening hole, lathering her exit, feeling her anal walls fluttering and coiling with every motion of my tongue. Zander hooked his elbows below her knees and surged into her, and I had to wrap my arms around her waist just to keep my face planted. But I did. Even as Certiok bucked and heaved, crying out and writhing in a samba of depravity, I kept my mouth on her, and tortured her hole until she lost her equanimity, her ferocity, and began blubbering and whining like a whore.

"Please my queen, have mercy!" She cried. But she didn't want mercy, I and I was merciless. I circled the delicate fleshy ridges that rimmed her insides, each one flattening under my tongue. I could feel the contractions Zander caused her on the other side, the relentless blast of his cock bulging against the membrane that divided Certiok's holes. I knew what would push them over the edge. Keeping one arm hooked around Certiok's waist, I lowered my other beneath Zander, found his crack, and drove my middle finger up his ass. He roared, and made poor Certiok pay for my audacity. Oh, did she pay. I pressed against Zander's prostate and controlled the wizard like a puppet, sending his pelvis ratcheting into the nubile orc princess until she was shrieking and sobbing, her insides churning with sensation, every motion a labor of euphoria. I didn't stop eating her ass until she flung her braided hair back in an arc, and exalted to the ceiling, blasting Zander's belly with a sudden stream of her release.

Then, satisfied that I'd shown Certiok something she had not known about herself, I parted from her pulsing anus, and enjoyed Brock. In my hazed vision, I connected eyes with Trenok, smiled, and winked.

TRENOK

By the look on Certiok's face, I knew I'd be expected to eat ass the next time we were intimate. By the smug look on Queen Yavara's face, I also knew I'd disappoint. Well, that was fine with me. My tongue may not have been as dexterous as the Dark Queen's, but what I had between my legs more than made up the difference. I just hoped I got it back from Patricia. Getting a blowjob from a vampire was almost as frightening as it was appealing. I was lying on the table, Patricia's big red eyes twinkling up at me, her pointed nose centering her pristine pale portrait, her blood-red lips forming an oval of suction about my meat. She hummed hedonistically as she took me at her pace, her neck bulging as I slid easily down her throat. She was naked save for a pair of fishnet stockings, and my eyes drank in every inch of her; the predatory hunch of her shoulders, the elegant curve of her back, the parabolic rise of her spine that ended in a tailbone between two spread fishnet-clad cheeks. I couldn't help but feel like downed prey being feasted upon. Her hands splayed against my inner thighs, gently guiding them to part. With access to everything between my legs, Patricia's elegant fingers moved deftly upon my vulnerable places, cupping my balls, rolling them in her palm. I groaned, transfixed by the sights and sensations she provided, a willing captive to her sensual cannibalism.

She withdrew with a pop, my cock springing from her lips to rest on her face, throbbing against one side of her nose, covering one eye. She smiled behind it at me. "I always thought orc would taste foul," she showed me the ruby length of her tongue, then drew it all the way up me, "but you're absolutely

delectable.

" She sank her fangs into my shaft.

I lurched with the sudden pressure in my loins, feeling my cock engorge in a way it never had before. "You bit me!" I gasped.

"I couldn't resist." Patricia said husky, rising in a lithe display of muscle and curves. She stood over me, looking down with an imperious stare. She held that look as she squatted, centering me between her spreading cheeks, pressing against the tiny white aperture an inch behind her pussy. She groaned as she impaled herself, her rim thinning with tension, glistening with the lust that drooled from her vacant slit. Down, down, down she went, taking me effortlessly into her tight filth, constricting my throbbing cock with her innards until her cheeks pillowed my pelvis, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from coming.

"Oh, fuck!"

"You like my little asshole?" Patricia smiled down, one of her eyes concealed by a curtain of black hair. Her robust netted thighs splayed to the side, showing the perverse joining of our bodies, the way her shithole consumed me to the base, the vivid blush of cunt against her alabaster flesh. She put her hands on my chest, pinned me to the table, and rode me. Up and down, up and down she raised herself, my pole forming a tent with the tight flesh of her pelvic floor.

"You're so big, Trenok." She gasped, sliding up my length once more, "It's a shame that you're wasting this gift."