The Song of Roland Ch. 13-14

"Why did you do it?" Kelsea whispered, her voice holding that silent hint of arousal that had - over time - inured Roland to her corruption, like a slow building tolerance to a drug. Roland was so cold, yet he could not look away. The Succubus gently pressed her lips against the Harpy's blue-tinged mouth. The two held eye connection, the gaze becoming a death stare as Roland heard the Harpy let out a pleasured moan. Her cheeks reddened, and eventually the beast sagged into the Succubus' arms, all resistance evaporating in the face of the sensual onslaught.

At last, when the Harpy had settled into the crook of Kelsea's arm, the Succubus pulled her head back, observing her prey with a strange, heedful awareness. The Succubus licked languidly across her plump lips. "Why?" She asked, her facial expression softening as she stared down in... was it pity? There was a torpid sort of sympathy in her eyes for this unfortunate thing.

The Harpy let out a muted trill, her voice warbling as it rose into a long, seeded call. Roland could not make sense of it, but the thing wasclearlytrying to communicate. Kelsea stared down at her, her tail swishing slowly behind her as she cradled the Harpy's head in her arms. Her wounded wing continued to writhe in agony, but the rest of the beast's body had settled into a rough form of submissive compliance. It let loose another burst of sound, louder this time, as if explaining something jarring. It continued this way for some time, her pitch and length of sound changing as she seemed to get across whatever it was she'd been doing.

Suddenly her voice dropped to a low hoot, her gaze shifting momentarily from Kelsea to Roland. Their eyes met, and she cooed, before turning quickly back to see the Succubus. Kelsea, for her part, stared impassively, her expression betraying nothing. She took the creature's face in hand and kissed her again, deeper this time. The Harpy, wounded as she was, accepted the touch. The Succubus stood up, turning hotly on her heels and stared at Roland. There was a long moment of silence, till finally she huffed. "Help her into the cave." She said casually, her voice a command to both of her male companions. "Bandage her wounds, and whenever you can spare it get some clothes on." She stalked past Roland, her gaze refusing to meet his. "I'll be waiting."

Roland glanced at Carl, whose blank face revealed nothing. Together the two sidled close to the prostrate fowl. She weakly lifted her arms, her hands held out to try to ward them off. She did not resist, however, when the two circled around her, taking her under her arms and lifting her unsteadily to her feet. Instead of resting on her talons, her legs extended, hanging bonelessly atop the ground. Exchanging another look, the two elected to carry the heavy load of the woman's weight between them, draping her arms across their shoulders as they staggered forward towards their makeshift camp. Her long, thick toes dragged across the ground as the half-conscious Harpy was carried bodily by her benefactors. Her wings hung limply behind her, the broken one twitching every so often in pain as they climbed the incline to the cave.

As they walked, the woman's face lifted. She turned her head, her eyes uncomprehending as she looked at the naked, frigid man struggling to carry her. Her yellow eyes watched as his red whiskers parted, revealing the grimace that graced his cheeks as he forced them both up the final stretch of climb. The Harpy let out a low, throaty coo.

At last they reached it, pulling the woman and her large wingspan within the cramped confines of the overhang. The beast cave paintings shone red like witch's blood as the fire roared, casting sharp shadows across the room as her wings blotted out sight of all behind it. Roland managed to force himself, breathless, to drop her as gently as he could onto a small flat space set aside for their sleeping arrangements. She collapsed hard, her body lying flat like she had been slain. She was so large, her wings so cumbersome, that she took up the whole of the area. Dropping her down so that she could lay on her uninjured side, it was all Roland could do not to fall down next to her. Shivering, he rushed to his pack, pulling on a thick change of clothing in a rush as he resumed his spot by the fireside. Carl, meanwhile tended to the Harpy's wounds.

"H-how bad is it?" Roland said, his voice shaky as the withdrawal of chill finally set in. Carl didn't respond, his hands carefully probing the puncture wound where the arrow had struck her. "You're a cunt, Carl." Roland said, his voice empty of malice. He wished in that moment more than anything that he had someone to talk to besides two mutes and a demon.

By some miracle of the Gods, the arrow had only managed to go through, though the tip stuck out like an accusatory finger from her wing. Whileanyarrow wound was bad, the fact that it hadn't ended up lodged in bone was enough that the wing itself might be saved. Roland shook his head as he chided himself. 'Might be a way to save the wing'... what kind of mercenary was he? Wondering about the well being of an oversized chicken with a slut complex. Yet, for some reason, the grim-faced man could not take his eyes off of her, his concern showing through as he constantly turned to look at her again.

Carl took the back of the arrow in hand, bracing her wing with his free hand as he roughly broke the feathered half off in his hand. The Harpy let out a small cry, her shoulder twisting as she adjusted to the harsh force applied to it. With practiced ease, Carl began to push the arrow through, the woman beneath squirming as she suffered through the forceful removal of the unwanted thing.

"How is it going?" Kelsea said from the darkness to his right. Roland jumped.

"Gods! Don't scare me like-" He began, but she merely brushed him aside. The Mercenary was surprised to see that she was nude, her complete, demonic form on full display as she slinked into the cave. Carl's eyes cast themselves up to look reverently at her. Her ass swayed in the firelight, crackling like a purple narcotic of the flesh. Roland, despite how cold and tired he was, felt a rise within him when he saw her.

"The arrow is through, and the damage shouldn't be lasting." Carl said. "The wing, however..." He trailed off, his hands opening to show the contrast of the break. Kelsea nodded.

"Let me." She said, moving forward and taking a seat next to the quietly whimpering blue woman. She leaned forward, her mouth latching itself atop the core of the bend. The Harpy let out a pained cry, followed by a deep moan. Roland watched, mesmerized, as Kelsea applied her healing balm to the beast's injured area. By some miracle of her power, the unnatural bend of the wing began to soften, slowly but surely returning to a more natural state. Lick by lick.

Lap. Lap. Lap.Like a hound at a water trough she slithered her tongue across the length and breadth of the Harpy's sky-blue wing, the tip toying with the curling feathers. Kelsea suckled at the shoulder blade, furthering the mystical reaction by adding her own corruption to the mix. The Harpy at first let loose a soft sigh of relief, the biting pain of her injury fading. However, that relief was soon replaced by a coo, then a moan, then a gasp. Roland watched, huddled by the fire, as the Harpy's face reddened as she became less focused on the healing and more focused upon the naked being sucking upon her wing.

"Mwah!" Kelsea said, pulling her lips off of her charge and taking in a deep breath. "That... should do it." She said, sounding tired. The Harpy, uncertain and clearly frightened by her current position and predicament, sat up, her gaze flicking from Kelsea, to Roland, to Carl, and back again. Her wings folded behind her, her chin lowering as her wide, yellow eyes looked at them with something approaching gratitude.

"Kraa," She murmured, sitting up on her large legs as her head turned toward the exit. She tilted her head, her eyes blinking rapidly as she asked the unspoken question: can I go free? Kelsea leaned forward, her back scrunching as a shiver ran up her spine.

"Not yet, little one." She said, her lips capturing the Harpy's own. "I gave alotof fluid to give you your flight back." She pushed forward, taking the surprisingly pliant creature by the shoulders and pushing her to the ground. The matronly being's hips twisted as she adopted a feminine position of submissiveness. "Give yourself to me." Kelsea moaned, her voice thick and syrupy with arousal, and something else. Carl and Roland sat, frozen, watching the Succubus as she roughly pressed her lips down atop the once feral savagery of the now cooing Harpy. Their breasts pressed together, Kelsea's purple, blemishless skin mixing with the Harpy's pale, freckled form. They rubbed tightly as the Succubus took command, her tail whipping atop her back as she asserted a strong position over the larger woman.

They kissed deeply, Kelsea's hand reaching up to cup the Harpy's cheek like she was a human lover in a bed of roses. Their eyes closed, enjoying the pace of the moment, heedless of the two gormless fools who watched, spellbound as the two alien creatures consummated their mutual passion. Kelsea's head came up, gasping for air, her perfect lips stained blue by the smudging power of the creature. She blinked hard, a wide, toothy smile growing on her face.

"I- I see what you mean!" She called over her shoulder, wiggling her bare bottom in Roland's face like an insult to his masculinity. The cold, beaten Mercenary's eyes trailed the arc of her ass' swing, following it as it moved like a pendulum back and forth. "She's got...quitethe nifty gift there!" The Succubus licked her lips, turning back to gaze fondly down at the Harpy. "And she's all ours, now."

Roland watched, stone faced, as the naked women began to trade bonds of further erotic affection. Kelsea, now gripped by the very force that had unwittingly compelled Roland, all but leapt down atop her feminine lover, burying her face within the jiggling mammaries as the Harpy let out an appreciative chirp. The bird girl's hands reached up, cupping the back of Kelsea's head, threading her long fingers through her hair as the Succubus licked clean the sweat that had slicked upon her. She took one of the Harpy's nipples in her mouth, suckling it like she was trying to elicit milk, before gently taking the nub in her teeth and drawing it upwards, pulling the breast flesh along with it. The Harpy let out a surprised cry, her back arching at the unexpected pain and pleasure mixing in as one.

Seized by a need to continue her assertive conquest, Kelsea took the woman's thick thighs in hand, lifting her legs up and spreading them wide in an assertive position that almost appeared as though she were about to initiate tender coitus in the missionary position. Instead, Kelsea slid her back backwards, her smile following her downwards as she planted a deep kiss atop the glistening mound of the Harpy's sex. Lashing out with her tongue, the Succubus latched onto the Harpy's large clitoris and began to suck, slurping loudly against it as the Harpy began to twist and squirm in her grasp.

Far from trying to stop her, the Harpy leaned into the loving, her sex spreading itself like a blooming flower as her body began to subconsciously react to the arousal that had been initiated. Keslea, emboldened, slid a finger up into the larger box of the woman's sex, her finger twirling around inside like she was trying to stir a warm mug of broth. The Harpy gasped, her tail feathers frilling as she lifted her hips in response, giving still more room for the Succubus to continue her attack.

The Harpy came, squirting a large spurt of womanly juices onto Kelsea's face as she began to work a second finger into her, then a third, then a fourth. Her mouth suctioned onto the larger woman's large mons, her brow furrowing as she bent the whole of her thoughts to making the creature she'd captured cum like a faucet. The Harpy lifted her head, her mane of blue fluff shaking wildly as she began to cry out, her voice sounding more and more like a human in lust than a creature. Her tongue stuck out, her eyes lidded as she stared at the purple woman at her base. Her hands reached out, her wings following them as she folded her arms around the nude succubus, who now laid lazily on her side as she continued to kiss and suck and lick across her labia.

Pulling off momentarily, Kelsea cast a coy glance back at Carl, whose gaze was locked to Kelsea's own exposed sex. She grinned, her eyes turning to look at Roland as she said: "Are you lonely, Carl? Would you like to lickmelike I'm licking her?" The man's dull eyes lit up, an expression so eager painted itself upon his face. Roland's face tightened in disgust.

"Yes." Carl said simply. Kelsea tilted her head, indicating her turned rear.

"Then get started. Use tongue first, Roland doesn't do it often enough."

Carl practically leapt to the opportunity. Heedless of the foolishness of how he looked, the man laid himself parallel to Kelsea's trailing bottom. He planted his face firmly against her fat rear, his tongue beginning to immediately fill her dripping sex with his organ. He grasped her tightly by the hips, pulling her purple form closer to him as his nose and mouth disappeared behind the cresting height of the curve of her ass. Kelsea let out an acute moan of approval.

Roland knew what she was doing. He knew the reason for her sudden emotional transformation, the calculated slight that she'd made by consciously ignoring him, leaving him to 'rest' by the fire. He was too cold and tired to partake regardless; it was not being left out of the action that bothered him, but the fact that she'd made the calculation in the first place. He... his eyes squeezed shut as he forced himself to look away for a moment. He should have known better. He should have-

"Ah!" Kelsea gasped, forcing Roland to - however unhappily - return his gaze to the sexual scene playing out before him. Carl was was face-deep in her sex, his hands grasping at her so desperately Roland was surprised he didn't leave bruises on her perfect, sculpted hips. He watched in pained desperation as Kelsea suckled at the entrance to the Harpy's femininity, her mouth frenching it so deeply that Roland saw the Harpy's eyes roll listlessly around in her head, her body arching and twisting as she tried to process the myriad of sensations that blasted across her person. The Harpy came again, spewing her clear juice across Kelsea's waiting face.

At last, Kelsea lifted her head from her muff-diving. She turned, the corner of her eye spying on Roland's even-tempered expression as her own lips curled into a wicked smile. She gasped again, her hips twisting to give Carl an even more ideal angle to dive within her sex. "Haahn! Carl,get in me."

The glamoured fool did not have to be told twice. He all but scrambled to his knees, fumbling with his pants as he pulled them down past his thighs, exposing his own rock hard erection to the air. Within seconds he was leaning forward, angling his sex against Kelsea's exposed, pink slit, his hand struggling to remain level as he clumsily thrust towards her sex. Meanwhile, Kelsea leaned forward, grasping the Harpy by the back of her neck and pulling her up hard into another long, deep kiss. The two met in mutual admiration for one another just as Carl sank his manhood into Kelsea's moistness.

The three gasped as one, Kelsea removing her mouth from the Harpy's taste just as Carl's cock began to fill her from behind. Turning her head back to look at him, Kelsea's eyes lidded as she allowed him to mate with her, his hips connecting hard with her ass and sending a hard, wetsmackout into the air. Roland did his best to ignore the teasing way Carl's strokes pushed against her bottom, sending small shock waves up her skin as he began to take her fast and deep. "Oh!Carl!" She moaned, not faking a thing, but simultaneously casting a long, deliberate gaze in the Mercenary's direction. Her mouth opened, her tongue lowering past her bottom lip as she erupted in quick, jolting cries in tune to the thrusting of the man who was not Roland behind her.

She shook her head, her hair splaying itself across her chest as her body began to animalistically endure the erosion of her restraints. The Harpy, now rejuvenated by the Succubus' attention, crawled forward, planting a line of blue kisses that left marks down the trailing curve of her spine, ending at the base of her back. Once she reached that place, the bird kneeled, leaning into Carl's face and planting a full-throated kiss against his lips.

Roland watched, heedless of how the flame's closeness burned the edges of his toes. He stared unapologetically, his expression empty of emotion as he imagined that he was not there, that he was in some far away place, doing unimportant things for inconsequential people. He imagined he'd never taken that contract with the town Reeve in that shithole of a village, that he'd turned left instead of right. He pictured what he might have done, where he might have gone had he never set foot in that cave and seen the creature who now squealed out an arm-shaking orgasm across his former comrade's hips.

The worst part was that the answer presented itself to him in lurid detail; he would have ended up how he'd always ended: running. Now at least, in the presence of this thing that fucked so freely to which he cared so deeply, he wasn't runningfrom, but rather runningtowards. Roland's hands clenched into closed, impotent fists as he stared, his gaze level with Kelsea as she matched his own with hard, clenching eyes. His very gaze seemed to set her off, her back arching as she let loose a crying call to the heavens, her sultry voice echoing out into the blackness of the night as her two newest followers frigged themselves hard against her body.

The Harpy stood, planting her box atop Kelsea's face and leaking herself upon the insatiable Succubus. Kelsea eagerly ate her out, her jaw working furiously to disabuse the bird woman of the notion that she could not run out of wetness to suck dry. Carl slammed himself against her body with the recklessness of a maniac, his hips connecting with hers so hard that Roland was surprised that she was capable of keeping her balance, her lower body turned to the side and exposed as it was.

It was her gaze, however, that stymied Roland: that open, red-rimmed stare that met his whenever the physicality of the moment permitted it. She did not shy away, nor apologize for her own mistaken supposition. Ultimately, it was not the circumstances of the act that mattered, merely the fact thathehad done something... withouther. This was that consequence, the assertion to his face of the end result, of his ultimate use to her, should he displease her.

Carl came. His prostate tightened like the constriction of a snake around its prey, his vein pumping what seemed like an impossible amount of seminal fluid directly from his prick, up the urethral vein and into Kelsea's waiting sexual center. Roland had done this with her so many times he had lost count, he hadwatchedher do it with others: the poacher boys, the innkeeper back in Dornich... probably others, if he was to think hard on it. But this- this was an act of spite.

She screamed her orgasm to the ceiling, her voice reverberating and echoing into the air as Roland confronted the very real reality that he didn't know what to do anymore. She creamed herself at the same time he idly wondered how steep the drop off the High Road would be, should he get a running start. The Harpy cried out too, her body shaking and collapsing back on her rear as she was overwhelmed by the sensation of a Succubus sucking upon her vagina. They all finished their orgiastic conclusion, the shadows of their bodies contorting like cavorting spirits on the walls. Roland sat quietly by the fire, clothed, with a blanket around his shoulders like this was an everyday occurrence in this camp of the damned. Perhaps it would be, after tonight; he supposed it did not matter.