The Hunting of Mist-Rolling-Softly

Misty felt her heart swell, and she found that she loved them. The fae, the king's retainers, and the Alder King himself, her new husband. She loved them all with the intensity she had always loved the forest. She looked back at the Alder King, and her face was relaxed and confident.

"Yes, My King. I wish to consummate my marriage to the forest this night."

The Alder King smiled. He reached out and grasped the shoulders of her sheer gown, slowly pulling it over her head and discarding it on the grass. Misty stood before him, proudly nude, feeling the chill of the night air on her exposed flesh and the stirring of moisture in her loins. The Alder King regarded her lovingly; she was beautiful, with bountiful breasts that belied her small frame and wide hips that supported an ample rear end. Her middle was not especially narrow, not flat like the stomach of a warrior or a messenger, but soft and gently curved like a true mother of the earth.

"I invite you, Mist-Rolling-Fiercely, to lay upon my altar," he said.

Misty walked confidently to the stone table, her breath coming quickly and her cheeks flushed. The others moved closer to get a better view, and she found she was excited by their presence; she wanted them to watch as much as her body begged to be touched. She braced herself for the cold as she sat upon the stone, but found that it was pleasantly warm and surprisingly much softer than granite should be; she turned and laid on her back, feeling almost as comfortable as she would have on a fine feather bed.

The vines at the base of the altar stirred and began to climb up the rough-hewn sides; their budding tips brushed lightly against her arms and legs, causing her to shiver with desire.

"As is tradition," the Alder King began, "I would give my wife over to the Great Mother, who sits above me in honor, to taste and anoint her. Will you accept the touch of the Great Mother, Mist-Flowing-Fiercely?"

The vines slid along the surface of the altar, touching Misty lightly and enticingly. She sighed and shivered. "Yes, My King. I welcome the blessing of the Great Mother."

"Then let it be so."

The vines slowly crawled over stomach, coiling under her body and wrapping her in a warm embrace. Other vines looped around her wrists and ankles and thighs, pulling them firmly out towards the corners of the altar and leaving small trails of nectar on her skin; the nectar was hot and silky, and it left her feeling heady and alive and filled with with a desire so urgent that she gasped for breath.

"Please, Great Mother, I desire your blessing," she breathed.

Other vines rose up from the ground to stroke her skin, sliding along the flesh and criss-crossing her body in lines of amber nectar. One vine brought its end across her nipples and she gasped again, louder; the feeling of the thin liquid on her erogenous zones filled her with a heat she had never before known. One thin vine rose up and curved over her face; a drop of that honey hung on its tip, suspended, beckoning. Misty leaned up and pressed her tongue against it; the taste was as sweet as the finest dessert, and she immediately craved more of it. She opened her mouth and the bud gently descended, allowing her to take it between her lips. Misty began to suck on it as it moved slowly back and forth, coaxing more of that wonderful fluid from it, allowing it to collect on her tongue before swallowing it happily, her mind begging for more.

While she drank, another thicker vine slid along the length of the altar until she felt it pressing against her sex; a tiny rootlet emerged from the top of the vine and flicked her clitoris, causing her to moan around the obstruction in her mouth.

"Please, yes," she tried to say, but couldn't speak properly while still drinking the wonderful nectar that was coating the inside of her cheeks. The vines seemed to hear her anyway; while the rootlet continued to rub up and down on her clit, the head of the vine slowly pushed its way inside her.

"Ooommm," Misty moaned as it stretched her gently open, sliding into her effortlessly, assisted by her own copious natural lubrication. She felt a slight sting, the pain of her hymen breaking, but the narcotic effect of the fluid she had consumed dulled it substantially even as it enhanced her pleasure, and she sighed deeply.

Her eyes darted around to the onlookers; Feltheim and Ural's members had engorged and they each carried them in their hands, while the fae women began to remove their robes entirely. Their naked bodies were just as supernaturally beautiful as their faces; lithe and smoothly muscled with long legs and no hair but for what was on their heads. One pair began to kiss, their tongues passionately warring with each other as their hands explored their bodies.

It was almost too much; Misty had never been this desired, had never felt this much desire. She craved release just as she hoped these feelings would never end. The vine inside her pushed in and out of her while more tiny rootlets converged on her clit, sending her into spasms of pleasure. She tried to spread her legs open even wider and pulled against the restraints on her arms, arching her back off the altar as an orgasm. The vine in her mouth pulled out; the nectar was no longer dripping but flowing freely, and it covered her pale face as she screamed loudly.

"YES! GODS YES, more, please! Please give me more, Great Mother!"

The vines responded; the one inside her moved faster and pulsed as it swelled to a wider diameter, and Misty felt a very small vine slide between her lower cheeks, pushing hesitantly upon her forbidden hole and coating it with silky nectar, as if asking the question.

"Yes, please! I want it!" Misty groaned, and the vine complied; it pushed hard on her tightened ring and slipped inside. Now she had two vines inside both of her holes, that thrust and swelled in a rhythm with each other. The vine over her face lowered again, and she sucked it back into her mouth gratefully, adding it to the rhythm below. Another orgasm rocked her small body, and the vines sped up their motions until there was no grace about it, only lust, and Misty responded in kind, sucking and licking frantically at the one in her mouth while thrusting her hips back at the others.

The fae women surrounding her seemed to be in tune with her primal feelings; they began to lick and kiss and touch one another frantically, desperately seeking their own pleasure with each other while watching the spectacle in front of them. Fingers dove into warm, wet places and tongues flicked over nipples and lips pressed tightly against one another in a festival of depravity that was punctuated by giggles and moans and sighs.

Misty writhed and moaned as the smooth vines invaded her; her tongue licked at the bud in her mouth, urging it to give her more of its sweet juice while her body shuddered at the feeling of the supple vines pushing in and out of her in time with one another. She imagined she could feel them rubbing against each other with each stroke, through the walls that separated her holes. The vines around her middle tightened slightly and lifted her a few inches above the altar, giving the vine between her cheeks more room to work; it slid a little deeper into her, allowing the wider part of its girth to stretch her just slightly more.

At last, and also too soon, the vines began to pulse urgently. She felt ripples moving across their surfaces, pushing against her lips and her sex. They pulled out of Misty all at once, leaving her feeling damnably empty and on the very edge of another orgasm. She opened her mouth to complain just as the ones beneath plunged back in harshly; she cried out as she felt the buds open up and spray her insides with what must have been quarts of nectar. The one that had been in her mouth opened above her and did the same, dumping loads of fluid onto her face and breasts until she was covered in the sweet, pleasant-smelling sticky goo. She drank as much as she could as the three vines retreated, crawling back down the sides of the altar to coil at its base with a pleased sigh Misty could feel in her mind. The vines encircling her wrists and ankles remained, and the one around her midsection lowered her gently back to the stone.

She laid there for a time, panting and feeling the heat of the Great Mother's seed inside her and on her skin. The chorus of giggles and moans around her became quieter, and Misty realized all the fae women were looking at her again.

"Are you well, my bride?" the Alder King asked softly.

"Gods yes, My King. I am very well," Misty chuckled, squirming a little against her last unfinished orgasm.

"It is now ancient tradition that my faithful retainers be allowed to clean your body. Will you allow Faltheim and Ural to touch you?"

Misty glanced over at the dog-men; their members were red and large, but not as large as the size of their bodies would have foretold, and looked just slightly more human than dog-like, though they retained the angled head of a canine's. Both of the dog-men were panting and looking at her with a primal hunger that made her shiver.

"Yes, My King," she said with a smile. "I will allow your retainers to attend to me in whatever way they think is best."

"Then let it be so," the Alder King declared, and beckoned Faltheim and Ural forward.

The dog-men approached respectfully; Faltheim lowered his head and gently dragged his tongue across Misty's stomach, gathering the nectar into his mouth. Ural did the same to her right breast and she moaned as his smooth tongue caressed her nipple. The Alder King's retainers lovingly and carefully licked every inch of Misty's skin, and the fire in her loins grew with every pass. Finally, a look passed between them and Ural nodded; Faltheim moved between Misty's legs and let his long tongue slide across her lower lips.

"Oh!" Misty gasped, straining against the vines that held her. "Yes, more of that, please lick me Faltheim!"

Ural chuckled as his compatriot licked Misty again, causing another spasm, then dipped his tongue into her nectar-coated wetness. Misty squirmed as the dog-man expertly used his gifts, paying equal attention to her clit and her sex, sometimes lapping and sometimes sliding his tongue in ways that produced pleasure Misty had never thought possible.

The fae women began to giggle again, and Misty turned her head to look at them. They were all sitting on the grass now, facing her, and each had their hands inside the one next to them, pumping their fingers and sighing in time to Faltheim's licks. The red-haired one caught Misty's eyes and smiled at her; this one's eyes were a deep, emerald green, and she was easily more beautiful than the others. Misty smiled back.

Faltheim abruptly stood, and Misty looked at him sharply; before she could beg for more, Ural took his place, putting his face between her legs and continuing where his brother left off. His pace was less teasing than Faltheim's had been, his tongue faster and rougher on her; she pushed against him and cried out as another orgasm finally shot through her.

As Misty tried to catch her breath again, both of the brothers stood up and moved alongside the altar. After a few moments, the Alder King spoke.

"Are you well, my bride?" he asked.

"I am very well, My King," she said, her voice soft and happy.

"Will you allow my retainers to anoint you?"

Misty looked at their hard members and felt pity for them; they must be so uncomfortable! "How can I deny them, when they did such good work cleaning my body, My King?" she asked with a smile. "Yes, I will accept them into me."

"Let it be so," the Alder King replied with a grin.

The vines on one of Misty's wrists relaxed as Faltheim stood over her; she reached up and took his manhood in her hand, stroking it gently and marveling at how smooth and firm it was. She tugged him closer, and when he did so, she opened her mouth and took him inside, sliding her tongue along the vein on the bottom. She felt Faltheim tense, then relax; his hands tangled in her black hair as she slid her lips up and down his shaft.

"Does this please you, my queen?" Faltheim asked softly. Misty nodded as she swirled her tongue around the head of his member, and Faltheim ran his hands through her hair.

Ural moved to the base of the altar and climbed atop it; Misty felt his short, smooth fur rubbing against her thighs as he touched the tip of his member against her entrance.

"May I be allowed, my queen?" Ural asked. Misty nodded again, arching up for him as much as the vines around her ankles would allow. His hands gently gripped her hips, and his claws pricked her skin in a way that only heightened the sensation of his manhood slowly entering her. He felt entirely different from the vines, thicker and hotter, and she groaned around Faltheim's rod.

Ural made love to Misty slowly and gently while she sucked and licked Faltheim; heavy, furred testicles pushed against her flesh and tapped her chin, while their claws left tiny red marks on her flesh that were a strange mixture of pain and pleasure. Ural lowered more of his weight onto Misty, and the feeling of being pinned beneath this massive, gentle creature was even more arousing. Between the restraining vines and his pressing weight, she felt helpless and small and deeply aroused. She let Faltheim slip from between her lips and turned her head to Ural, letting him lick her face before kissing him sloppily, feeling his long tongue, still wet with her juices, sliding against hers. She kissed him for a long minute, then turned and beckoned to Faltheim; he leaned down and she kissed him as well, making sure to give them equal attention.

Faltheim broke the kiss and he and Ural shared another one of their silent glances; Ural slid out of Misty with a soft pop. Misty moaned and pouted for a second as the dog-men traded places; now it was Faltheim's turn to push himself inside her, and it was her turn to taste Ural, with her own taste upon him. Misty found she very much liked to taste herself on the flesh of another as she bobbed her head on his shaft, and she used her tongue to lick off every drop she could.

The dog-men were closer to their own release now; Ural's hands landed on Misty's shoulders and he began to thrust against her mouth, while Faltheim's claws dug into her hips as he pulled her against him, his pace quickening until he was pounding into her. Misty groaned and thrust back, feeling another of those magical orgasms building inside her; she welcomed their roughness as she had welcomed their gentleness, her body begging to be taken and used by these majestic, loving beast-men.

Faltheim growled and let his long tongue run across Misty's breasts as he pushed into her harder and faster, his careful rhythm faltering as the lust for mating overtook him. He mated with Misty as he would have with a female of his own kind, and Ural did the same with Misty's mouth, immensely enjoying the feel of her lips sliding up and down his shaft.

"Mmmp! MMm! MMMmmm!" Misty groaned, her muscles tensing against the restraining vines as the dog-men had their way with her.

With a howl, Ural thrust deeply into her and spilled his seed. Misty felt Faltheim's manhood swell and she brought her lips around its head just in time for him to explode. His semen tasted different than the vine's nectar had, more musky and less sweet, but altogether just as delightful; delightful enough to push her over the edge again. She arched her back and swallowed as much as she could, but his production was copious and much of it slipped from her mouth and flowed down her chin.

The three stayed that was for a few moments while both ends of Misty's body milked the dog-men for as much of their seed as she could get inside her. Then, after a time, she felt her body relax as Ural carefully pulled his now-softening member from between her legs, and she opened her mouth to allow Faltheim to do the same. The Alder King's retainers moved to the side of the altar and bowed low to Misty before returning to their places in the circle.

"Now, as is tradition," the Alder King said again, a bit breathlessly, "My court wishes to exchange gifts of the wedding with you." He gestured to the nude fae women around them, who had ceased their orgy and were watching silently. "Will you give and receive gifts with my court?"

In that moment there was nothing Misty wanted more than to see what else the fae royalty had in store for her. The nectar from the vines was still coursing through her veins, enhancing her desire and filling her with energy; she felt she could continue the ritual until the next full moon. "Yes, My King. Happily."

"Is there any among my court you wish to attend you first?" the Alder King asked.

Misty looked around at the fairy women; searching for the one with the wild red hair and deep green eyes. She found her and their gazes locked, and the fairy woman grinned at her.

"The one with the red hair, My King, has caught my eye."

"Ah, you have chosen my daughter, Princess Freia. A fine choice, my bride. Let it be so."

Freia approached the altar, and the vines holding Misty uncurled, sliding back to the base of the altar and leaving her free to move. She sat up, and Freia moved close to her. They embraced, and Freia surprised her by pressing her lips forcefully against Misty's, transmitting a passion that was more intense than even Misty's own.

The two women kissed for a long time, their hands running along each other's spines and through their hair as their tongues fought with one another. Freia's smaller breasts pressed against Misty's large ones and Misty wrapped her legs around Freia's delicate waist, drawing her closer. It was several minutes before Freia finally broke their kiss and fastened her lips on Misty's neck. Misty sighed happily, reveling in the way the fairy woman stimulated her, a way different than any of the others had. Although it was common among initiates to sample the flavors of women in the Order, Misty was just as unused to a female's touch as she was to a male's, and she found that she liked it equally as well.

"Yes, please," she muttered. "Touch me, Freia."

Freia complied, moving her hand from Misty's hair and pressing it against her breast while she sucked on Misty's neck. Freia's long, delicate fingers kneaded the supple flesh, then grasped Misty's nipple and rolled it gently between her fingertips. Misty sighed again, and Freia's other hand went to Misty's shoulders, pushing her insistently. Misty laid back on the altar and Freia followed her, moving her lips to Misty's other nipple and softly sucking on it, letting her tongue spiral around Misty's erect nipple. For another eternity of minutes, Freia alternated between Misty's breasts, sucking on one while playing with the other, then switching again, until Misty felt she could take no more.

"Freia, please," she begged softly. The fae woman lifted her head and grinned at her.

"May I, my queen?" she asked teasingly as her fingers brushed across Misty's lower lips.

"Yes, you may," Misty moaned. Freia's fingers didn't move.

"Are you sure? I'm not sure you reaaally want it." Freia raised her delicate eyebrows..

Misty groaned. "I really want it! I promise!"

Freia brought her lips close to Misty's ear and whispered to her. "Beg me, my queen. Your gift that you will give me is to beg me for release. In front of my father, in front of his retainers, in front of the whole court."

"Please," Misty cried loudly. "Please, Freia!"

"Please what, my queen?" she answered for all to hear, then leaned in and whispered again.

"Let them hear how much you need my fingers. I want you to use the crudest, nastiest words you know. I want them to know exactly how much primal lust you feel for me."

Misty knew those words, certainly, but to use them here? In front of the Alder King, in front of everyone? She knew she could refuse; that everything she did was of her own will. But at the same time, she remembered the way those fingers worked her breasts, the way that tongue felt on her lips, and she felt the fire in her loins, so hot it was utterly unbearable.