Ready to Serve

She pouted. And that would be no fun at all!

Clearly, she would have to be a bit cleverer. Bait him. So, with a giggle, she wiggled her ass up at him, giving his cock one last lick. "Oh, Master!" she sang. "Slutty girl needs a nice, big cock in her pussy!" She winked. "Would Master like that?"

He stared at her. Tiffany let her lust aura pour into him, willed him to see her for the eager, easy slut she was meant to be. She giggled again, putting a finger to her lips. "Gosh, Master, do you not wanna fuck slutty girl's brains out? Maybe you don't wanna fuck at all!"

He was practically drooling. His cock was completely erect, and she grinned mischievously at this. "Your powerful cock knows what he wants," she purred, licking her lips. "Ooh, Master, please take me with it. Please, pound me into a happy, gooey mess for you. Fuck my brains out!"

"Fuck... brains out..." The brunette boy swallowed. "H-happy, gooey mess... Yes..."

Tiffany shivered as he said the words. She licked her lips and laid it on a little thicker—sometimes a more subby victim needed a little bit of encouragement. "Maybe that's not what he wants, though," she teased, giving a bratty grin. "I bet my Master hasn't got it in him to do that to his little slutty girl!"

Senya stared at her and slowly blinked. He nibbled nervously on his finger. "I... can I..."

Oh! Tiffany suppressed a growl of frustration. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Tiffany reached out with her fiendish connection and gave the whorelip a weak little tug.

Usually, when incubi tried to control other fiends—even fiendish plants, for that matter—it didn't go so well for them. A reckless incubus could spend centuries in the whorelip's delightful clutches, until someone found them and decided to take advantage.

But that was exactly what she wanted.

The whorelip wrapped around her tighter, and with a muffled squeak, she found herself jerked around, forced onto her hands and knees, and felt the vines lift her ass impossibly high up into the air. She moaned in delight, realizing the vines were presenting her ass—and her tight, wet pussy—for Master's use.

Oh, thank you, lovelies, she thought, whimpering. I am a good girl a good girl a good girl...

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the whorelip rear back. Without any other warning, it darted in and started peppering her clit with little wet kisses, and her eyes rolled back up into her head. "Please!" she cried. "Oh, please, M-Master—they're so... so wicked... please, have mercy on yourplaything!"

She couldn't see his expression, and with the whorelip kissing her every available body part, she could only moan and whimper and pray.

She heard footsteps right behind her.

"Yes..." she heard the man mumble. "Oh..."

Glee filling her heart, Tiffany stepped up the aura, flooding the boy's mind with mental images that made her even wetter—images of him fucking her pussy, her ass, her mouth, her tits. Images of her being used like a living sex toy. Images of him having a whole harem of eager sluts like her. Images of him on a throne, and her on her knees, all-but-naked, prostrating herself before her sovereign monarch.

His moans and heavy breaths were the only proof she needed to know that it was working.

And then his cock head poked against her slit, and her breath caught in her throat. She barely managed to swallow.

"Take me," she whimpered. "Make me yours. Make me yours—I'm yours—yours—"

And as she felt that massive cock slide into her, Tiffany let out an overjoyed squeal.

"M-mine," she heard Master whimper. It was a pathetic whimper, and almost a question, but it was enough. Enough to build her up and up as she started to slide up and down on his cock, as he pounded in and out of her, gripping her shoulders for support.

She mewled and nodded as he fucked her, her tail coiling around his leg, her glowing red eyes shining, her skin sticky with sweat. The lips were kissing all over her sensitive body, and now he was... he was...

"Oh, gods," she squeaked, "you—you're g-gonna make me—"

"Yeah," she heard him gasp, "yeah, you... f-fuck... make you c-come.."

It was enough.

Tiffany slipped over the edge, and she came with a shrill squeal, grinding her ass desperately against the base of Senya's cock. She tried to form words, to beg, to thank, but no sound came out save moans of ecstasy.

Tiffany was left a sweaty, ragged-haired, whimpering mess by her climax, and she knew more were on the way.

But this cute little orgasm was nothing, she knew, to what she and he would feel when he started to cum.

And Tiffany intended to make sure that her Master would get to feel that wonderful pleasure for the rest of his life.

He was getting close now.

"M-Master," she whimpered, still breathing heavily in the afterglow as he continued to pound her clenching pussy, "am... am I a good girl?"

His only response was a whimpered, "Good girl. Good girl!"

Facing away from him, Tiffany gave a sly grin. It would be enough.

~~~~

"Good girl," Senya whispered, amazed at himself. He had never met such a strange, bewitching creature before, but she was so desperate to submit, it almost might have worried him. That is, were he not barely able to breath right now, much less think.

Her tail was caressing his neck. Her pussy was contracting around his cock. His mind was turning to dribble in her clutches, and... all he wanted to do was pay her back in mind.

"I'm a good girl?" Tiffany whispered again, before groaning as he squeezed her shoulders tightly. He was getting closer and closer.

"Y-yes!" he cried, shaking as his cock started to throb. He was already leaning over to hold on, but now he leaned down and started kissing her shoulders and neck.

He had to reward her. Had to make her know she was a good girl. It felt so bizarrely, wonderfully blissful to be in control of this delicious creature. And if her little gasps and wordless pleas were anything to go by, Tiffany was enjoying it, too.

"I-I'm Master's good girl?" she cried, rolling her shoulders as he planted kisses along her shoulderblade. "Oh, thank you, Master!"

"Yes!" He hungered for more. He licked her neck, and was rewarded by another little cry. She was sensitive there. He kissed and licked that little spot behind her collarbone without mercy, holding her still for his attentions. "My—mm—good girl. Little—mm!—ob-obedient plaything!"

She was quivering in his grasp, shivering at every kiss, every dirty word. A muffled moan escaped her, and he realized she was biting her lip to try to hold off from cumming—to no avail.

Tiffany's whole body shook like a sheet in a hurricane as the pleasure claimed her once again. Senya just kept thrusting in and out of her, making her screams crack and break every few seconds with his motions.

Senya's eyes were tightly shut at this point. His mind was dissolving within the joys of dominance, drugged by the haze of control. He'd never known it could feel so good to just... take over. It felt almost perverse to wield so much sexual power over another creature. But something had awoken in him.

After all it had to be something from within him, right? Where else could this overpowering need to master have come from? Why else would his heart flutter and quicken with every needy little squeak uttered by this lovely demoness beneath him?

Senya was so focused on kissing her—he was practically lying on top of her as she knelt amid the whorelip—he didn't quite notice how much whorelip was gathering around him.

He didn't notice the little tickling as tendrils snaked around his arms and legs.

H didn't notice the strange little titters that seemed to be coming from the bizarre plants as they encircled his throat, bound his wrists, and wrapped in slow spirals around his torso—like serpents coiling around sleeping prey.

But Senya did notice when—just as Tiffany's mind-melting orgasm was beginning to peter off, and he could feel his own fast approaching—those vines tightened their coils and jerked him out of Tiffany's dripping pussy and right flat onto his back. None-too-gently.

Senya struggled, but only slightly, as the vines easily pinned him to the forest floor. It was like the alraune all over again. Unfortunately, that connection just made his struggles all the weaker.

The demon girl gave an indignant shriek, springing to her feet... or trying to.

Trapped in the soft grass, Senya watched as the kissing blossoms seemed to redouble their efforts. They surged around their original victim, kissing every sensitive patch of skin. She squeaked and tried in vain to cover herself, her attempt to rise halting abruptly to avoid bearing her most sensitive parts to the ruthless plant. Slowly, he saw that indignant rage in her eyes dim to blissful acceptance.

At last, the demoness sank back into the grass with only a few whining protests, whimpers, and pleas.

He watched her crumple a few feet away from him, still weakly struggling to fend off the merciless whorelip, and swallowed. Wow. Glad it's not me.

And then the whorelip binding Senya really got to work on him.

Senya had been warned about the whorelip. It wasn't safe, the scarecrows had said. It was 'tricky', according to Bobbin. Even Mommy's giggles on the manner had seemed forced—like the way an instructor or parent would laugh when a child asked a question with a grim answer. Or the way a person might laugh when asked about an ex-partner they were still a bit in love with.

But he hadn't known just how good a kisser it truly was.

Those wonderful, soft lips kissed his neck, the small of his back, his shoulder blades, his inner thighs, and he started to shake. They kissed his ankles, his toes, planted big, wet kisses on his sides and arms, and he started to writhe wildly. He was totally helpless to stop them. It was like a dozen plump-lipped goblin maids were lavishing the sloppiest, most mind-melting kisses they could muster upon him.

The hellish flowers descended around his face only a moment later, and he had scarcely time to even moan before their strange giggling and loud smacking and slurping sounds immersed him in a sensual soundtrack of lust. They were kissing his cheek, sucking daintily at his earlobe, peppering his face with their wet little caresses until he was too disoriented to think straight.

Worst of all, that chorus of high-pitched giggling seemed designed specifically to make him feel weak. Helpless. It was so easy to imagine that rather than being captured by a sinister plant creature, he was immersed in the loving embrace of dozens of lush-lipped temptresses who were ever-so-awfully amused at his predicament.

His struggles certainly were getting weaker. And that had to be because of the laughter, right? Otherwise, it would mean he just... wanted this.

As one particularly large whorelip blossom descended down towards his mouth, her—its—lips parted, and a strange, sinuous sort of stamen, almost like a forked tongue covered in gleaming nectar, snaked out. It was almost as though the flower was testing the air.

Senya suddenly realized that he was in the power of something very different from a teasing hen harpy, a seductive alraune, or even a loving, maternal holstaur.

He was in trouble.

And then the whorelip kissing all over his body paused, and Senya saw their own slick tongues slither out.

It started on his soles and toes. He gave a sudden squeak, followed by an involuntary giggle, as the little forked tongues lapped over the space between the front pad of his foot and his little toes. The tongues snaked around, between the toes, along them, then descended to the soles.

He trembled. Something about those slick, nectar-covered tongues was so... sensitizing.

He tried to hold it in, but as the tongues licked along his sole, he started to giggle. As the whorelip tongues started to tickle his ankles, he lost it completely, thrashing in futility within the whorelip's grip. And once he started, he couldn't stop.

Worse, the giggling almost seemed to encourage the flowers. The tittering got louder as tongues started to emerge around his chest and belly, then at the small of his back and between his shoulderblades. Then his inner thighs, and he was crying real tears of joy and torment, struggling in vain to close his legs—only to feel his arms and legs spread wider, as if in punishment, as the whorelip started to tickle-lick all over his underarms, along his totally exposed armpits, and his sensitive sides.

And as he opened his mouth to scream, the 'mother' whorelip closed the distance and captured him in her—its—passionate kiss. He managed little more than an, "Mmf!"

Senya had never kissed a plant before. But as these lips locked with his, and that long, slender tendril snaked into his mouth and started to trickle in a slow, steady stream of sweetness he couldn't help but lick up and swallow, he forgot that was what he was doing. His eyes fluttered shut. His mind started to spin.

His giggles and screams were lost. His mind was lost. All he could do was submit to these luscious lips. Submit to the embrace. Submit to the torment.

He imagined that they were Tiffany's lips, that that gorgeous demoness was kissing him tenderly, rewarding him for being a good boy... or was he rewarding her?

It didn't matter. Nothing he wanted mattered. Senya was so wonderfully, deliciously helpless, he didn't even care anymore.

But after a minute or so, he heard heavy breathing by his ear, and he heard a little giggle. "Aw. Poor, poor Master.:"

His eyes fluttered open. Though the mass of twisting vines, he saw the wonderful Tiffany, her whole body framed in whorelip tendrils. Unlike Senya, who was being totally incapacitated, her whoreliped now seemed contented with just teasing its demonic victim. A pair of lips was latched onto each nipple, and what looked like almost a rather lewd collar was wrapped around her neck, kissing her all over. Her eyes were glazed with lust, and that same submissive look was in her eyes, but so was the brattiness that had so tormented him earlier.

"Gosh," the demoness cooed, "if only you could take charge, huh?" Her hand lightly grazed over his leg, carefully avoiding touching any of the vines, and he trembled. He stared at her with wide eyes. "But Iguess," she said with a giggle, "you just don't want this enough."

He moaned into the kiss as she reached up and gave her breast a little squeeze, beaming and batting her eyelashes. Down below, he realized her hand was heading for the one place the whorelip had bizarrely ignored:

His big, throbbing, needy cock.

His heart started to race. His mind slowed down.

"Poor Master doesn't wanna break out and fuck his slutty girl," she said sweetly. "But this boy does, I bet!"

Oh, no. He started to thrash, whimpering into the kiss, beyond tortured by the tickling, the kissing, but—Please don't—

Her finger arrived at his cock head, and she started to very, very daintily tickle it with her small finger.

"Gitchy gitchy goo!" she sang.

He squealed into the kiss. The mother whorelip was practically devouring him, filling him with that strange nectar, consuming him in its sensuous kissing, but this torment... it was too much! Too much for anyone!

"Oh, is there something wrong, Master?" She looked down at him with a demure expression, putting a finger to her plump lips. Her eyebrows arched, even as she danced her finger over his sensitive cock.. "Gosh, do you wanna do something with that pretty cock of yours?"

"Mm! MMM!" He thrashed his head, but the vines only tightened, holding him totally immobilized. He wriggled helplessly as the tickling tongues skittered over his armpits again, merciless, endless.

"Hm!" She beamed and took her hand away. After a moment's thought, Tiffany reached over and daintily grasped one of the nearby flowers by the bud. Senya sighed at the momentary relief—then realized what the demon was up to.

She held the flower up to her face, her eyes sparkling as if in wonder. He moaned even louder, eyes widening in horror. But she didn't care. She planted a few tender little kisses on the whorelip—it returned these kisses without any mischief, as if happy to behave now that they had agreed on a common victim—then giggled as its tongue gently tickled her cheek.

Then lowered it down toward his cock, grinning. "Is this what you want?" she cooed. "Just nod or shake your head!"

He couldn't nod or shake his head. He couldn't move at all. He could barely even breathe in his muted hysterics. He stared at her with a feeling almost like hate. No, not hate. Feelings were rising in him—heated, powerful, almost alien feelings. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so utterly aroused, so single-mindedly horny.

This woman, this... demon who teased him, who tortured him. He stared at her prodigious curves, her plump red lips, her smug, wicked smile as she slowly brought the tickling flower down towards his crotch.

He wanted to fuck her.

"You know," she said, raising an eyebrow, "sometimes the whorelip find a mortal to just... play with for a little while. Just a quick bit of fun. They'll suck him molten a few times, then leave him for other demons to play with when he's nice and gooey!" She licked her lips.

"But sometimes... ooh, sometimes they find someone they really, really like. A nice, submissive toy who makes fun sounds and deep down always loves it, who can't help himself." She leaned in, her voice turning husky, even as her eyes sparkled with challenge. "And when that happens, he's so much fun, they just hold him forever. Captured. Edged. Always giggling and squealing. It's super cute."

He whimpered, her high-pitched, bratty voice tickling his brain every bit as unbearably as the whorelip tickling his toes. Everything was going hazy. He didn't have enough air. Didn't have enough mind. Didn't have enough will. Didn't have enough time.

She giggled. "I wonder which one you'll be, Master?"

Senya already knew. He looked into her fiery red eyes and knew that she knew too.

And the second this flower touched his cock, he would want it just as badly as the whorelip did.

"Poor, poor Master," she said sadly, as the flower hovered right above his cock, tongue snaking out just slightly. "His poor slutty girl was just so naughty and bratty, but I guess he didn't wanna break out and fuck her." She smiled fondly down at his cock. "I guess you didn't wanna cum inside me. Own me. Use me. Make me scream and beg to be forgiven. Am I right?"

He moaned into the kiss. He was panting, staring as best he could at the flower between his legs as it came closer and closer. Please no. Please no please no please please please—

"Do you not wanna fuck me?" Tiffany hissed in his ear. Her tongue tickled, just slightly.

And something snapped in him.

He stared at her with wide eyes, wild eyes, his heart beating fast. She stared back at him, her eyes smoldering, daring him, mocking him.

And he lunged.

The whorelip seemed to fall away like paper, snapping and giving beneath his sudden strength. Tiffany gave a squeal of surprise as he tackled the succubus and pinned her to the ground.

He was breathing heavily. She looked up at him, eyes wide with delight—and a little fear.

"Well?" she whispered. "What are you gonna do?" She licked her lips, as though starving for his touch. Her luscious, plump red lips.