Drow in the City Ch. 03

"I am Lura," she said, her voice a purr as she swayed out into the open. Her Red Robe, attuned to her every whim, was draped over her shoulders, barely covering the firm orbs at her chest, and coming together at her navel to drape down between her legs, blocking her still-glistening slit from a frontal view. "What can I do for you lovely ladies?"

The taller, tan girl gasped. "You're a...a drow!"

"Yes, love, I am," Lura said, beyond taking offense to the common reaction to her race. "I am Lura, Chosen of Sune. At your service."

"The elf, an assassin, told me to find you. She was about to murder my father, Lord Armanov. I am Varla, his only daughter," Varla said timidly.

"An elf assassin...Iliara?" Lura asked. Varla shrugged. "Must be. You take no offense to her actions?"

"Not at all," Varla said. "He was vile. This is my handmaiden, Greta."

Lura bowed her head at the curvier girl. She appreciated Greta's curvy suppleness, and found the prospect of her hands moving from the girls heavy breasts, down her smooth stomach, and to those wide, child-bearing hips quite delectable. "Well met to both of you. What is it I can do for you?"

"A new life," Varla said. "For myself and my servant." Lura watched as Greta's face fell, almost imperceptibly, at the comment. Lura resolved to instill a new life in the former servant as well.

"Well, to begin with," Lura said, "you are new people, though your names have not changed. The restrictions that bound you in your previous life no longer apply. Therefore, Greta, you are no longer a servant, and Varla, you are no longer a noble."

Greta's face lit up as Varla's brow furrowed. "What do you mean," Varla asked in a measured voice.

"I mean, that if you want my help, and the help of Sune, then you must accept her as an equal. In Sune's eyes, and in mine, there are none greater or lesser than any other because of their bloodline," Lura said. "If you cannot accept that, then perhaps you should find another Matron."

Varla ignored the excited expression on Greta's face, one of excitement and trepidation. "Fine," Varla said. "It will be harder for you now, Greta, having to take care of yourself without me to guide your actions, telling you what to do."

"I can handle myself," Greta said quietly.

"Fine then," Varla said. "What would you have us do, Lura?"

"I can help you," the drow said, "but not for free. The Dreaming Dragon is undergoing some changes to become a Festhall dedicated to Sune, and, as you can imagine, we need employees."

"I am not a harlot," Varla said, indignation in her voice.

"You misunderstand," Lura said. "While Sune embraces love and all that it encompasses, Sunites are not in the business of prostitution. It is strictly forbidden, as a matter of fact. However, that does not keep some of our employees, especially those devoted to Sharess, from partaking in the pleasures of the flesh however they wish. I will only ask of you to work for a brief time among my friends and fellow revelers. It is not so bad a deal, really. Payment for enjoyment."

"I will do as you ask, Matron Lura," Greta said. "Happily."

Varla rolled her eyes. "Very well, then. I will work with my friend for your assistance."

Greta looked at her in astonishment. "What?" Varla queried.

"Are we really friends?" Greta asked.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose we are," Varla said. "But you still need to shave yourself for me."

Greta, beaming, nodded eagerly.

"Ah...perhaps I can assist with that?" Lura asked, a hint of excitement in her voice. "As a Chosen of Sune, I have been given powerful abilities, and some abilities for simple cosmetic purposes. That, in conjunction with my bardic magic and some things I learned as a priestess of Lolth many decades ago, I'm sure that you and I can have quite a fun time."

Greta looked to Varla, as if for permission. Intrigued, the willowy woman smirked. "As long as you do me, too, it's a deal. I'm in need of a touch-up."

"Excellent," Lura said.

*****

"Where's Lura," Cyra asked. She ran her hand over her petite horns, then smoothed her platinum hair. Mikhail looked up at her, a long, stringed instrument in his hands. He plucked the strings while maneuvering his fingers to create pleasant-sounding chords.

"Bathing with our two new recruits," Mikhail said, strumming slowly. He sniffed a few times and muted the strings with his palm. "You smell like sex."

"Jealous?" Cyra asked with a wolfish grin. She sat next to him. "Play me something."

Mikhail smirked and put the instrument aside. "I'm afraid I'm not as skilled as Lura at producing music. However, my fingers are skilled in other areas, if you wish to sample them."

"That so?" Cyra asked, moving to straddle the man. She slid her hands around the back of his neck and pressed her breasts together in front of his face. In the gauzy, low-cut night shirt she was wearing, the pale red valley of her breasts were vividly exposed. "Lura won't mind?"

"If she can fuck you, so can I," Mikhail said in a throaty voice. "And Samon?"

"Sound asleep. I wore him out, but my hunger is far from sated," Cyra responded. Her lips pressed into Mikhail's in a searing, tongue-filled kiss. She ground her crotch down on Mikhail's and he slid his hands up her thighs. Her night shirt rode up over her bottom, freeing her tail to writhe about as it pleased, and grasped the firm, perfect globes of her ass. He squeezed and she growled into his mouth.

"Smell my cunny," she breathed and he inhaled deeply. He was surprised at how potent her scent was. It made him light-headed, but not unpleasantly so, and the rich feminine musk set his senses on edge. His cock responded immediately, and something struck him as unusual. He dismissed it, though, as he was overcome by an irresistible urge to bury himself in Cyra. She reached down with her dexterous hands and extracted his bulging member from the loose confines of his trousers.

Her lips locked on his again, and she bit down as she impaled herself on Mikhail's engorged cock. Pain shout into his lip as her petite fangs drew pinpricks of blood, and the coppery taste of his own life-essence splashed onto his tongue. His mind hazed over, a crimson fog of passion and lust robbing him of coherent thought and sending him into a barbarian-like sexual frenzy. Mikhail seized her hips, forcefully pushing her down onto him. He felt his shaft enveloped in her burning sex, and groaned to himself.

Cyra had a different reaction. She grunted like some sort of animal and began to viciously grind herself into him. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulders, fingernails digging in painfully. Mikhail lost himself in sexual frenzy, and she cried out in exultation as he continued to slam her hips down, his cock pushing to the far limits of her loins.

Mikhail reached up, grabbing the loose cloth and tearing it asunder down the middle. Her large, firm breasts hung free, unrestrained, from her chest, the ruddy globes capped with big, hard nipples that begged attention from his mouth. He complied, his lips locking onto the firm globes and sucking mightily on the nipples. His tongue swirled around them rapidly and he heard a throaty purr resonating deep in her chest.

Cyra felt wetness under her hands as she slammed herself down furiously. She looked down and saw blood trickling down Mikhail's shoulders. Her fingernails had drawn blood. Eyes aflame, she licked her lips hungrily, and bent down, licking up the coppery fluid. Mikhail didn't notice what she was doing, even despite the burning sensation of her tongue over his open wounds. When she rose up, her pussy clenching around his cock, and cried out in orgasm, he saw his blood on her chin and lips.

But his senses were not with him, and he couldn't bring himself to protest when she smothered his mouth with another hungry kiss. Cyra pulled herself off him and sat on the table behind them. She spread her legs lewdly, her hands between her legs pulling the lips of her pussy wide open. Mikhail didn't need to be told what to do as he was assaulted anew by the potent musk of her heated sex. The human stood and pressed the inflamed head of his cock against the gaping canal of her cunt.

He felt her stretch around his member as he slid the length home, all the way to the hilt. He mauled at her breasts, grabbing them roughly and pinching her nipples between his extended fingers. His hips slammed into her with loud, wet sounds, her pussy spasmodically emitting creamy jets of her arousal against his bare crotch.

"Fuck me," Cyra demanded. "Fuck me!" She growled, her eyes turning to blackened orbs and her horns growing fivefold in size. Another voice sounded from her throat as she grunted and moaned. Her pussy clenched on his cock again, and held on. Her orgasm shook her body relentlessly and Mikhail continued to slam into her throughout the prolonged climax. Her legs clamped around his waist, holding his cock deep inside her pussy as she milked his cock. Mikhail ejaculated thick, hot streams of cum into her womb...and kept cumming. Under normal circumstances, Mikhail would have been shocked at the volume of cum he was pouring into the tiefling, but he was intoxicated by the pheromones of her heated sex, and even the seemingly demonic changes that had overtaken her did not phase him.

Sweat coated their bodies as they came down from their sexual highs. Cyra lost consciousness, night shirt torn open to reveal her taut stomach and large breasts coated in sweat, and legs splayed out wide to reveal her drooling pussy, which began to seep small streams of Mikhail's cum. Mikhail fell back onto the booth bench, blood drying on his shoulders and his cock slowly going flaccid, coated in cum and Cyra's arousal.

*****

For the first time, Greta's crotch was bare, hairless, and she had Varla and Lura to thank for it. She had been unsure as to why it was such a big deal, but when she felt Varla's smooth cunt grinding against hers, she completely understood. Sweat and arousal coated her plump mound and the hairless span of skin above it as she and Varla ground against each other. The sensations were incredible, setting her loins aflame with need and lust. She watched Varla's body writhing in the throes of passion, her petite, noble breasts shaking and shuddering as the rest of her body undulated.

And then there was Lura. Greta's hands were locked onto Lura's firm, toned thighs. Lura was quietly murmuring encouragement to the former servant girl while her obsidian hands wrapped around Greta's big breasts. Her black skin contrasted starkly with Greta's pale breasts, and the cherry colored nipples were pinched between her fingers.

The drow was content to go without pleasure as long as she was showing these lovely young women the pleasures of sexual love. But that didn't inhibit her juices from flowing copiously from between her thighs. She knew there was a dark wet spot underneath her on the large bed, but she didn't care. Her nipples were painfully erect and pressing into Greta's smooth back.

Lura grinned widely when both girls began to pant louder, moan louder and shudder. Greta began to convulse in her grasp as orgasm took them both simultaneously. The chorus of pleasure and climax ended, leaving Greta and Varla panting and exhausted on the bed. Lura, though, was far from tired. She threw a thick blanket over the girls as they repositioned, holding each other arm in arm, smiles on their faces, and fading quickly into contented sleep.

The drow reached for her Red Robe, but decided against going outside her room in the early morning hour. Instead, she pulled open the door that led to a small deck outside her room and stood on the balcony, clad only in a smile. Her perfectly sculpted body cut a proud figure in the pre-dawn air, with full, noble breasts standing perky with deep violet nipples hard atop those mounds. Her white main of hair cascaded down her slender back, all the way down to the swell of her round bottom. The thin strip of hair nestled above the violet cleft of her sex stood out on her black skin like a sliver of moon in the night sky.

Without warning, strong hands seized her from behind. She was pushed forward, and only her quick reflexes had her hands on the wrought iron railing to keep her from falling over the edge. Without a word, she felt a rubbery shaft glide up the back of her thigh to the cleft of her ass. A part of her that she had suppressed long ago rose up, and arousal overtook the fear. She relinquished control of her body to whoever was behind her, a willing participant in whatever vile acts her attacker had planned.

A hand dug into her thick white hair and jerked her head back. She looked out over the scene before her, the empty streets and flickering street torches staring back judgmentally at her, scorning her for what she was engaging in. The rubbery shaft pressed insistently between her thighs and she jutted her ass out toward whoever was behind her. There was a brief chortle, and then the shaft thrust into her wet cunt.

There was nothing soft or sensual about the act. There was no loving touch, no passion, only violence and selfish fulfillment as her attacker raped her. Lura knew Sune would not approve, but a dark part of her mind didn't care. She wanted this. A secret desire from her training as a priestess of Lolth was to be forcibly taken by the High Priestess, the Mistress of the Temple of Lolth, even Lolth herself, forced into submission and raped in front of her House and all of her home city. And now, with this stranger forcing the false cock into her cunt without heed to her pleasure, she could see only the crimson eyes of drow looking back at her from the streets, jeering and shouting insults at her, calling her a whore, filth, and all manner of drow insults.

And she got off on it.

Her pussy clenched spasmodically, thin jets of her arousal spurting from her pussy as her rapist continued abusing her pussy. She felt a warm liquid burst from the tip of the fake cock and splash around inside her. Then there was more laughter. She didn't dare turn around, though, even though the laughter was somewhat familiar, for she didn't, couldn't ruin the fantasy. Instead, she fell to her knees, head against the cold iron bars of the railing. She heard footsteps walking away, silent as a whisper, and after a long while, she figured they were gone. Lura turned and faced the portal leading back into her room and sat on her bare bottom on the wooden floor. One knee was up, the other lay on the floor, and she looked down at her weeping pussy. A glittering pinkish liquid oozed from her canal, and she watched the false cum much as she had watched Mikhail's seep from her before. She slipped her fingers inside of her and withdrew them.

They were coated in the false cum, and she smiled a small smile, then brought her fingers to her lips. She tasted herself and the syrupy, cloying nectar that the mysterious attacker had left inside her. Then the flavor shifted to bittersweet as she swallowed, and she purred to herself, enjoying the flavor. She didn't know why, but her head suddenly grew light, and her reality grew dark. Shadowy figures lurked everywhere she looked and the sky took on an unnatural darkness, not a darkness of night but of shadow. Unconsciousness took her without warning, and she lay naked and sweaty out on her deck.