Scenes from Yetanotherverse

I grasp Ophelia's hand -- the one teasing my cock. For a moment, I join her in the fun, but then make it clear that it's time for a change. I turn and whisper into her delicate, pointed ear, careful not to actually touch it. "Go bend over Zam's bitch, bitch. Present for me. I want your pale little pucker."

The Zam Show has her raring to go already. She doesn't joke or sass. She bites her lip, nods her head, withdraws her hand, and does what I told her to do. I savor the sight of her pale, perky ass in motion as she loops around the table and walks towards the counter. She takes her time spreading her legs and bending over. She looks up at Zam, whose red eyes flash approval. Then she starts kissing Cass's taut stomach. Zam's thrusts move it so much on the flat surface that the half-elf is as likely to smooch her breastbone or the top of her dark thicket on any given attempt.

I give Kit a few more pats and find her eyes. A brief, dominant stare tells her everything she needs to know. I get up, go to a nearby drawer, and find a clit cage for Ophelia. It looks a lot like Cady's -- only a little smaller -- but it's designed for the exact opposite purpose. It manipulates the turgid bonus-button that it captures so that all focus and energy can go towards other pursuits -- like butt fucking, for example.

Kit pulls back, and I stand up. With a wave, my fingers are lubed. Once my cock is too, another few waves dry my hand off well enough. I get up behind Ophelia and savor the sight. Then I grab her ass cheeks and spread them, enjoying yet another. Her asshole is almost the same color as her skin; there's the merest hint of pink distinguishing it. Below that, her peach is practically dripping.

"Pussy?" I ask.

"All good," she says between kisses.

I reach around and attach the cage. She whimpers theatrically. I like it; Zam fucking loves it. She's obsessed with caging other people's junk, and she's fine ignoring the reality of this new toy's function. It works out really well for our group-of-the-moment; I never have to worry about excluding her as long as she has Cady to play with.

"Spank her," Zam growls. "You know you want to. Don't be a little bitch until I make you one. Asses that white exist to get turned red. Fucking do it!"

Ophelia doesn't wait for me to use our silent language. "Daddy nooooooo," she whines. 'Daddy' is one of our words; it's an overriding 'yes.'

I release Phee's cheeks and raise up my hand. I wait just long enough for both her and Zam to get pissy. Then I bring it down. The smacking sound makes Cady jump.

"... Owwwww!" Phee moans, complete with the pause. For that one moment, she was too stunned to speak.

I smack her again on the other cheek. The handprint goes pink right away. The first one is already closer to red.

"Fuck yes," Zam groans. She takes one hand off Cass's clit-wishbone and brings it up to her giant nub, fully emerged from the dark bush. "Coochie-coo, little lady." She tickles the underside aggressively, almost flicking at it. It's Ophelia's move on Lara from before, but with no regard for nuance. Cass's dying-animal noises raise up in pitch, then begin to hitch. Her whole body seems to spasm and melt at the same time. Ophelia presses her face down onto her belly, planting a final, endless kiss there.

My half-elf's hips are already gyrating. The cage is driving her crazy, making her forget all about the burning sensation on her ass. That's good for her, because I grab those handprint-marked cheeks again and spread them, leaving her pale asshole completely vulnerable to my wet, raging cock.

It's a true pucker, not perfectly symmetrical like Zam's. It's unique, just like every literal puckered expression at the other end. It twitches in anticipation. I don't make it wait long. My swollen, purple head pushes against it, and my jaw clenches with primal satisfaction as I witness the slow penetration. I knead her cheeks without mercy. Once the head is in, I thrust. Then I walk myself closer, keeping myself completely buried. Her asshole is on fire, but it can't melt me. It only makes me harder.

I feel Kit behind me. Her job is Lara's. She nuzzles in between my flexing cheeks and finds my asshole. All my tension releases. My beautiful fox and my precious half-elf have both completely submitted to me. I go into dominant sexspace; I stop thinking. I look anywhere and everywhere; sex and pleasure abound. Even Cady, slaving away and denied, is drenched in it: collar, plug, cage, panties, titties, cum bump. All of our sounds and smells are blending together. There are infinite heavens; it must be so. This is one. This is one of mine.

We don't fuck like Zam does; it's not our style. I conquer Phee's rear passage slowly and deliberately at first. I keep one hand on massage duty, but the other grabs at her lustrous red hair. I gather it up, twisting it around my hand. I push down for a while, keeping her glued to the nearly unconscious Cass. When I feel the urge to speed up towards climax, I pull back. I can only picture her expression; Zam reacts to it immediately. She releases Cass's pussy, hunches over, and grabs Ophelia's throat. The dusky dickgirl aggressively claims the fucked-stupid redhead's mouth while I futilely yank and thrust to plunge deeper inside of her. I'm out of inches, but I'm not thinking about that. It's sexspace instinct, plain and simple.

Kit and Lara are both clutching their respective partner tightly, making sure their lips and tongue are never far away from their violently moving targets. We are an orchestra. We are a hive mind. I know what Kit's going to do before she does it, and I 'know' she's going to do it because Lara had the idea first. I cum with a finger in my ass, and so does Zam. She pushes into Ophelia's face even harder, and her eyes widen before they begin to flutter. She tries so hard to mar her look of braindead bliss with outrage, and I grin like an idiot at how stupid and pointless it is. We both fill our fucktoys to bursting with our hot, potent seed. We both cum for what seems like hours. Ophelia hits peaks to rival Cass's; Cass is truly, literally unconscious.

Zam lets go of Phee's face. I let go of her hair. She collapses down onto Cass's limp body again. The two of them just breathe. The two of us watch them lovingly -- yes, Zam too. We catch glimpses of the real her all the time; orgasms trump poker faces. She loves us. I know she does.

I let Kit worship me for a long time before I deflate and withdraw. She hands me a lubed-up plug. I'm so stupid in my post-orgasmic daze that it surprises me. Nothing should, but it does. It's another one of those good surprises my life is full of.

"Good girl," I tell her, and I can practically feel her shudder with pleasure. "Clever little fox."

I plug Phee up. She gives a small grunt. I stroke her back lovingly. "You were a good girl too."

"Thank you, Daddy," she replies with a slurred sigh. "I love you."

"Love you too."

Zam rolls her eyes, too cool for post-orgasm pillow talk; she's back to being a faker, though not a good one. Cady's already beside her, waiting patiently and obediently. When the dominant mutt finally notices her, I see confusion flicker across her face. She doesn't know which assignment to give her little sissy gurl: cock cleanup, or creampie duty. She figures it out pretty quickly, though. She remembers the horrible outrage Lara just perpetrated on her.

"Sissy, lick," she demands, pointing at Cass's pussy -- still full of her cock. Cady moves in as close as she can. Zam withdraws, and our house slave's mouth just manages to catch the second outpouring of potent cum. She latches on and gets to work; she won't spill another drop. Zam gives her butt a few encouraging swats.

Lara's on her feet behind Zam. Zam spins around, and the fog-tanned girl's olive eyes flash kinky-fear.

"Oh no no no," Zam says. She takes hold of Lara's shoulders and pushes her down. "Cheeky bitch. Suck."

Lara resists for a whole three seconds before she's dutifully cleaning the massive, half-limp monster with her lips, mouth, and even throat. Her back's up against the kitchen's far wall, and Zam's already feeling inclined to do most of the work for her -- all the thrusting, anyway. In another minute or so, she'll be properly skull-fucking the poor thing. I make a mental note that that's something I haven't yet done myself, and definitely want to.

Phee's clever cage switched off by itself; I carefully remove it, but otherwise leave her to recover atop Cass. Kit and I walk back around the kitchen table, and I take my seat. She moves to my cock immediately, but I stop her, bringing her face up to mine.

I gaze into her eyes. They're a stunning amber. My primal instinct flares up; even though I can see her intelligence, I ignore it. She's my pet. She's my cute, fuzzy little foxgirl. I pull her into an awkward hug and give her scritches. I nuzzle into her soft fur, then find her cute, wet nose. I lick it, and she freaks out in that perfectly adorable mammalian way.

"You're such a good girl," I tell her, never letting up on the physical affection. "You're gonna stay with me forever, right, Kitty-Kat?"

For the first time today, she speaks to me. Her voice is indescribable. It's almost two overlapping each other: a beautiful human or elven lover, dulcet and clear, but then also the purring and happy growling of a fox -- a strange, high-pitched mixture of cat and dog. How they come together to make human words, I still don't understand. They do, though, and they melt my heart in a way that I just don't think a human's ever could. No matter how completely submissive and utterly owned a humanoid kinky-slave is, they don't trigger that same instinct. I've got it bad for cute little animal girls, and Kit is the best. She's just the best.

"Of course I will, master," she says. "You own me, and I love you."

I pull her into a tight hug, my hands hitting weak spots with abandon. She blisses out and starts humping my leg. I don't stop her. I just keep whispering love and encouragement into her adorable foxgirl ears.

"After breakfast, it's all about you, Kitty-Kat," I tell her. "Anything you want."

"Thank you master," she sighs, slurs, growls, and purrs -- yes, all at once. It's downright enigmatic.

I loosen my grip and urge her down; that's all she needs. She settles between my legs and begins her purposeful worship. I lean back and just... let go. I don't quite get to sexspace, but I definitely think of nothing. Nothing gets in the way of enjoying another of my life's simple, beautiful pleasures.

Cady does get back to our breakfasts eventually. Once the planning is done, it doesn't take long for microportals and magic gizmos to deliver and assemble our meals. The competent sissy chef oversees everything, adding that human touch, and so it's no slight against her to say again that everything in life has gotten easier. Passion and good intentions will always have a place.

This is where this particular story ends: with seven very different people enjoying each other's company in heaven -- not actual heaven, but close enough to moot the point. It's post-portal, hyperteched, magicked, and an infinitesimal speck of a vastly greater whole -- one that, strangely enough, isn't so strange or unimaginable. I think plenty of pre-portal worlds would be able to appreciate what we have; I sometimes fantasize that a lucky glitch in the laws of the universe might let one of my missives slip through. Maybe it provides hope, comfort, or inspiration. Maybe it just provides some cheap masturbatory fodder. I guess that would be okay, too.

Has one, ever? I do wonder.

But then I have heaven to get back to.