Sex and the Spellplague

He did not hesitate. She felt his climax in the form of hot jets, plastering her inner walls and coating her pussy in oh-so-sweet cum. That sensation sent her body over the edge. All her muscles contracted as she clenched around his cock. Her arms squeezed him tight against her, her legs holding his hips firmly against her, and her tail cutting off the circulation to his foot. They both grunted and groaned repeatedly until her body relaxed, and they both lay there, panting, sated for the time being.

Cyra opened her eyes, holding Samon's head against her neck, and saw that their ruckus had drawn a small audience. A few men, refugees by the looks of them, had wide eyes and grins on their faces. The tiefling winked and they both stood, gathering themselves and nodding at the refugees as they began to make their way back to Samon's estate in Everlund.

*****

Iliara had never been much of a magic user, nor was she particularly close to any deities. The ravages of the Spellplague did little to inhibit her prowess as an assassin. In fact, she found that the shadows seemed a bit more welcoming to her now. She could not attribute it to anything in particular, but she often felt as if the darkness called to her at times and, if she could focus hard enough, she was certain she could slip into the Plane of Shadow, or the Shadowfell as it was now called.

But shadow was something she was trying to leave behind, not make a relationship with. Granted, she was not opposed to using it as a tool, but a part of her was very wary about Shadow becoming a sentient thing in her mind. Lura assured her that such things were highly unlikely, but Iliara felt differently. She had been a creature of darkness, an assassin of profound skill, and knew that Shadow was a fickle mistress. More than once she had been betrayed by what seemed like perfect cover, even when similar situations had hidden her perfectly to land a killing blow.

She shook her head, dismissing the troubling thoughts. Beneath the Dreaming Dragon, a temple to Sune had been created. Smokeless, magical torches kept the chamber well lit at all times, but the dancing shadows created by these fixtures seemed to taunt Iliara. She faced an altar holding a statue of Sune aloft, standing on its toes with long arms down by its sides, palms facing Iliara. Incense burned in censers at either side of the statue, filling the chamber with a heady aroma. Iliara closed her eyes, her fingers clutching at the pale red robe draped over her shoulders. Unlike Lura's, hers was far from magical, and only served to cover her athletic curves and petite breasts.

It was, however, sheer and did little to hide her erect, dark brown nipples that tented the fabric. Such a thing was not uncommon, even upstairs in the common room of the Dreaming Dragon. Iliara opened her eyes and saw women and men alike walking around, tending to different things in the temple. Other statues, figures of men and women in the throes of passion, were tended to by a man and woman, naked save for a sash around their waist that covered their genitals only when positioned properly. Flowers that somehow thrived in the artificial light were being watered by a petite, flat-chested half-elf. Iliara's eyes flashed with desire, but a flickering shadow caught her attention. She swore she saw red eyes glaring at her, but when she looked straight on, they were not there.

Suddenly, the walls seemed to be closing in on her, and even the statue of Sune seemed to loom over her, glaring down at her despite its whimsical countenance. But Iliara was not the type to be overcome by psychosis. She steeled her will, gritting her teeth and digging her fingernails into her palms, using the pain to focus her mind and her will. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, all was as it should be, save for the sheen of perspiration on her forehead.

"My dear, you're bleeding," a woman said to her. Iliara's head snapped down and saw that her palms were bleeding from where her fingernails had dug in a bit too deeply. The gold elf stood quickly, not bothering to respond to the woman as she left the temple. She went to the bar, not bothering to change back into her customary leather pants and loose white blouse.

Benefast greeted her with a warm smile, despite the troubled look on her face. Without asking, he poured her a glass of mushroom wine, fresh from the Underdark at Lura's request. Iliara downed the bitter liquid without hesitation, closing her eyes as her esophagus burnt. Then, the elf sighed and smiled. "You always know how to treat a woman in need," she said to Benefast.

"I do what I can, my dear," Benefast said. "Perhaps I can be of more service to you in my office?"

Iliara smirked at him. "Don't you wish, halfling," she said wryly. "You know my tastes. I've sworn off men for the time being. Give me a delicious snatch and I'll be fine."

"Is that so?" a familiar voice said. Varla wrapped her arms around Iliara's narrow waist and buried her face in her mane of golden hair. Iliara sighed aloud, feeling her body relax immediately at the former noblelady's touch. She turned in her chair, leaving Benefast to simply watch as she grasped Varla's fine-featured face. Her fingers traced the firm, narrow jaw-line as they locked lips. Iliara eagerly spread her legs, pulling the woman into her. Varla's breasts were a solid handful for Iliara's elven hands, and she seized them as soon as the kiss broke. Varla flipped her hair to the side, the freshly dyed cascade of dark red waves falling halfway down her back.

"You are a visage," Iliara said. "Take me to your room and ravish me."

"What's this? The noble Lady conquering the brutal assassin? A nice role change," she purred. Varla, being human, was almost a full head taller than Iliara, but had more than willingly accepted the role of submissive lover in their nearly regular sessions. Now, though, Iliara clearly needed to be taken care of, and she was more than up to the task.

"Just take me to bed and fuck me," Iliara growled in the human's ear, just before she savagely bit the lobe. Varla quivered, felt her loins moisten instantly and her knees go weak. But she seized Iliara by the wrist and pulled her from the bar, to the stairs, to her own private room in the expansive tavern.

The two lovers weren't even through the door to Varla's room before Iliara's robe was on the floor and her naked body was pressed roughly against rough wood. Varla wasted no time: she seized the elf by the throat, pressing her firmly into the wall and kissing her savagely while her other hand clamped firmly on the gold elf's damp slit. Iliara's moan sounded like a pathetic gasp through an all but closed airway. Varla grinned, bringing her damp fingers to the gold elf's lips and tracing the nectar along them. When the elf tried to taste Varla's fingers, she promptly pulled them away just before smacking her lightly on the cheek. Iliara grinned.

Then, when they heard a door opening down the hall, Varla opened her door, kicked the robe in, and then thrust Iliara into her apartment. Varla turned to lock her door, then whirled around, seeing Iliara standing in the middle of her living area, hand thrust firmly between her thighs, and tying her hair up into a bun. Varla walked very slowly toward Iliara, slowly unbuttoning her tight, dark blouse before letting it fall to the floor, revealing her perfectly rounded breasts to the hungry elf. Her hand shot out, seizing Iliara by the throat once more and spinning her around.

Iliara continued frigging herself, but only because Varla had other desires. She pinched one of Iliara's hard nipples violently, twisting and jerking it out, making the elven assassin grunt in pain despite her clenched throat. Varla smacked the breast hard, bringing an angry red color to the golden skin. Then her hand moved to the next breast, applying similar treatment, just before she spun the assassin to face her again. "On your knees," Varla commanded. Iliara immediately complied, never removing her hand from her sodden cunt.

The human untied her knee-length skirt and tossed it to the floor. Her plump sex was bared before Iliara, and the hungry elf could barely restrain herself from burying her face into the neatly trimmed thatch of golden hair. Varla put her bare foot on Iliara's shoulder and pushed her back against the cushioned footstool behind her. She was in an awkward, almost painful position, but it aroused her greatly submitting to this woman. Varla turned away from Iliara, and bent over so that she could view the elf from between her legs. She slowly stepped backward, her puckered anus and dripping pussy coming closer and closer to the waiting elf until, finally, both orifices were pressed against Iliara's face. Varla sat, her cunt firmly on Iliara's mouth while her asshole pressed against the elf's nose.

She didn't bother touching the elf. In her mind, the assassin hadn't earned her touch yet. First, she'd have to dine on her snatch and asshole. She felt the deft tongue cleaving her pussy's lips apart and dancing admirably up and down her slit. From clitoris to canal, Iliara's tongue spared no inch of her pussy, even going so far as to dive deeply into her sodden cunny. Varla resisted the pleasure at first, but Iliara had always been so damned skilled with her tongue that her climax was soon to come. But Iliara was a deceptive bitch.

The elf could sense Varla's coming orgasm and pulled her tongue away from the soaked pussy. Varla almost stood to smack the elf until she felt that same traitor tongue pressing hard against her asshole. A cry escaped Varla's throat and resonated in the living room. She grabbed hard at her knees and nearly doubled over in pleasure. She was panting desperately when Iliara managed to pry her asshole open and jam her tongue into that oh so tight hole. Desperate moans and grunts erupted from the human's mouth of their own accord, her body seized by pleasure. Then, without warning, Iliara's tongue slipped out of her ass and licked all the way to her clit, where she sucked painfully hard.

And that spelled Varla's end. Her pussy clenched on empty space, squeezing possibly harder than ever before and squirting a small amount of her nectar onto Iliara's face. She fell to her hands and knees, gasping for breath as Iliara's relentless mouth followed her sex, still suckling hard on her clitoris. "Stop," Varla barely managed to breathe. As if magically compelled, Iliara abruptly released her clit and leaned back against the footstool. Varla crawled away and sat on the floor, staring at the elf in disbelief. Iliara sat, staring back innocently, idly rubbing her slit. Varla saw the puddle of elven nectar on the floor and crawled over, licking it up and savoring the floral taste and scent Iliara left behind. The woman stood slowly and walked to her bedroom.

Iliara watched the human woman walk away, admiring the sway and bounce of her ass. She was curious, but wasn't about to get up and see where her mistress for the night had gone or what she was up to. Her patience was rewarded quickly enough.

Varla emerged from her bed chamber, thin straps of leather wrapping around her waist and between her thighs. Sprouting from her loins was a large, thick phallus, though it was shaped more like a small hand, fingers pressed into a cone. Iliara's heart leapt into her throat. The item had at once been magical, capable of countless pleasures. Since the Spellplague had robbed most magical items of their properties, this was now simply a rubbery surrogate. But with the magical finesse removed from it, it became an object that represented brutal, blunt pleasure. Much like a mace offered simple, blunt damage; this rubbery strap-on offered the simple, pure sensation of having a woman's hand plundering her sodden canal violently.

She needed no orders. Iliara climbed over the footstool, her chest and stomach pressed against the cushion while her forearms pressed on the floor. Varla stood behind Iliara, not bothering to spread the elf's thighs as she pressed the hand-shaped dildo against her slit, rubbing it up and down. She spat on the shaft, rubbed it around to moisten it, then unceremoniously slide the hand of the strap-on into Iliara's pussy. She watched the canal spread, distend around the rubbery shaft and slowly swallow it. The full hand entered, then to the wrist, until roughly two hand spans of the shaft was inside the elf. Iliara cried out uncontrollably, relishing in the pain of her pussy being sundered and filled so entirely.

Varla wasted no time. She seized the elf's golden hair and jerked her head back, thrusting, slowly at first, into the elf's sodden canal. The human picked up pace, her rhythm forceful as her hips slapped against Iliara's ass. Iliara grunted with each thrust. There was nothing around her. No setting, no time, no place. Simply Varla thrusting into her, her hair being pulled and her head jerked back in the process. She felt her cunt filled repeatedly, violently. She felt her juices splashing all over her thighs as she came again and again on the rubbery hand inside her. Her world vanished and only Varla remained, sending her into the sweet oblivion of orgasmic bliss. She didn't know how much time had passed between the first time the strap-on entered her and the time she found herself on Varla's bed.

They were locked in a sweet nether kiss. Pussies' grinding together, one of Varla's legs was against her back and the other nestled between her small breasts. She was sucking on the woman's toes as their clits smashed together repeatedly. Warm wetness was all over her foot and she saw Varla treating her in a similar manner. She couldn't see past the woman to anything else in the bedroom. All she knew was the bliss radiating from between their thighs. Varla reached out, sitting up, and pulled Iliara toward her. The embraced, Varla's mounds rubbing against her skin while they kissed, her tongue delving into her mouth while their pussies made wet noises as they slid together. They came simultaneously, silently gasping, breathing each other's breaths. They stayed in this position, forcing more and more orgasmic bliss, until exhaustion claimed them and they collapsed in a pool of sweat and girlcum that soaked Varla's sheets.