Wicked Amusement Ch. 10

Alrek whimpered, naked, unarmed, as the elves' long, delicate fingers stroked over his hard cock. They had already taken his dagger from him, as easily as plucking an egg from a bird's nest.

He was completely helpless, and it was getting harder and harder to care.

"You've been such a bad boy," husked Illetrys. The redheaded elf was practically humping his knee as she stared down at him. Her mouth opened wide as she started to pant. "K-killing my sweet little—oh, f-fuck—I can't even—"

His view of her was blocked as a blonde elf leaned into his field of view. Her cute freckled face fluttered dark lashes at him. "Wanna puff?" she whispered.

"Ah? Nmm—" His feeble protest was quashed as her lips touched his. Her tongue thrust into his mouth, and he moaned, feeling the familiar smoke passing from her into his lungs. The kiss lasted long. Too long. He felt his mind floating away on a cloud when she finally withdrew with a smirk.

"We're gonna p-punish you," Illetrys gasped, climbing up his body. Snatch whimpered, feeling the other two prostitutes press their nubile nude bodies against his sides, pinning him down. "Gonna tease you, gonna—gonna—" Her eyes were locked on his hard cock. "Mm. Gonna..."

Her hips raised up. "Just gonna tease you a little," she slurred, her eyes wide and glassy. "Just gonna—" She impaled herself on his shaft and let out a hoarse scream.

Alrek screamed, too, as her silken sheath slid down around him. Her inner folds seemed to pulsate, milking him for all he was worth as he came into her instantly.

"He likes it," cooed the elf to his neck, kissing his earlobe. She was sliding her whole body along him, as if desperate for any stimulation.

"Don't you?" cooed the elf to his right, blowing smoke down into his face. He could only pant and moan, but something in his eyes made them smile. Then they looked at one another, and lust seemed to take over as they locked lips right above him.

Alrek could only watch them, moaning as Illetrys bounced on his shaft. He was overwhelmed by stimulation—physical, yes, but also visual and audible. The sight of Illetrys's lust-crazed eyes, of the two elfmaid's groping embrace... the sounds of their hissed taunts and humiliating suggestions...

"Can't—" Illetrys was gasping for breath. "Can't stop—I need to—f-fuck, you—" Alrek closed his eyes and shared her screams as another orgasm poured out of both of them. The pleasure was filling him like honey in a waterskin. Filling his mind right up with delicious submission. "F-fuck! You're mine! Just my—my little obedient little—" She sat up and started bouncing even faster, her slick pussy sliding along his member with ungodly speed and tenderness.

His mind was red. His mind was in fire, full of smoke. Lust consumed him. He was desperate to sit up, to push Illetrys down, to pound the whore's brains out, but he was too weak. Too weak.

"Too obedient."

His eyes opened. The fourth prostitute, a blonde woman with particularly lush red lips, smiled down at him and blew a perfect smoke ring into his face, clouding his vision a moment. When it was clear, she was closer—close enough that their lips touched. "Our boy's weak," she slurred, and he could tell she was masturbating. She shook with pleasure. "Isn't he?"

"Yes," he whimpered, unable to help himself.

"Just our weak little slut," one of the girls kissing above him hissed.

"Yes!" he cried. Anything. He'd say anything they wanted.

"You'll do whatever we want, won't you?" she whispered.

"Uh-huh!"

"Will you lick me?" she purred.

"Y-yes!" He shuddered as he came a third time. The smoke pulled it out of him, but he was starting to feel exhausted, overstimulated. And still..

"Beg me."

"Huh?"

"Beg her!" sang the kissing women above him. They looked down at him and gave twin smiles. "Beg to lick her pussy!"

"Mm," whimpered the other, "pussy-licking." And she yanked the other girl across him, eliciting a started squeak. He watched as she pulled the other girl into her lap, forcing her lover to give her still more pleasure.

He looked up at the prostitute's beautiful silver eyes, felt her plush lips caress his cheek. "Please," he whimpered, "please let me lick your pussy. Please. M-may I?" Illetrys's bouncing was starting to bring him towards a fourth. He could barely speak. "Oh, oh, oh—p-p-please! Let m-me lick you!"

She smiled down at him. "You may," she said sweetly. "Because you asked like a good little whore."

The next thing he knew, he was thrusting his tongue into her pussy, licking her clit, as down below, Illetrys continued to rise and fall. His cock almost ached with ecstasy. He couldn't breathe. He was ready to pass out.

"You're our whore now!" sang his current mistress, and he heard the other elves giggling. "Your—oh, yes—you're gonna—oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! You bitch!"

Alrek loved it. He loved submitting. He closed his eyes in bliss and lapped at her clit hungrily, savoring the submission, savoring the taste, the addiction. The pleasure bathed him, bathed his poor, baked brain. He wanted to pleasure his mistresses forever.

He never wanted to stop.

~~~~

Cellemiste entered the cellar in a daze.

Mother is dead, a distant part of her said. Snatch killed her. She deserved it. She deserved it. It repeated those words, over and over again, a steady stream of complex feelings. That part of her brain also told her that she was horny, she was needy, she needed to drop to her knees and frig herself off into eternity.

But it was a distant part. The majority of her head was full of song.

Down below, the muse sprite smiled up at her. "Hello, my love."

Cellemiste reached down and drew out her dagger. "Hello, my love."

~~~~ ~~~~

Larya burst into the tavern, struggling to remain standing as lust stormed through her whole body. The room was full of wriggling beauties. A green-skinned elf man smiled drowsily up at her as a woman bounced up and down on his cock. "Hey. Wanna lickin'?"

Larya bit her lip and hurried through a door into a long hallway. As she entered, a strange sound greeted her ears. It sounded like... like...

Larya turned, and saw Snatch.

He was hard to spot at first. This was because had to be at least six prostitutes were atop him. His fingers were desperately probing and stroking pussies, while his lips were wrapped around a smirking gigolo's shaft and bobbing up and down like it was the only food he'd ever need. His eyes were dazed and red-rimmed. Illetrys bounced atop his cock, giggling like mad. Two elf women lay over his belly, each lost in the other's cunt, almost oblivious to their surroundings.

Larya hesitated.

She turned and ran for the basement. I haven't got time for him.

~~~~

"You're such a good girl," breathed Lea, as Cellemiste approached. "To think of me at a time like this."

"I can't help it," Misty whimpered. She raised the knife and began to saw at the magicked silk holding the cage shut.

"No," Lea said, smiling, "you can't."

Misty was lost in Lea's sad, knowing gaze. That gaze spoke of other worlds. Exquisite pleasures. Creative wonders.

"You can't, either," she whispered.

Lea chuckled. "Such is love, my sweet."

The silk snapped.

The cage swung open.

Misty felt herself lean into Lea's embrace, and her mind went soft and wet. She moaned, feeling Lea running her hands over Misty's body like she owned it, like she knew every nook and cranny, every sensitive spot.

And, Misty realized, she did. She did.

Misty practically melted in Lea's arms. She felt fingers reach up into her cunt, and her clothes just seemed to fall away, no longer needed. The dagger fell to the floor, forgotten. Pleasure filled Misty like water filling a sponge.

"You're going to be a good girl," Lea cooed, guiding Misty's lips to a nipple. "My good, good girl."

The basement door flew open.

"Stop!" a woman cried. But her voice was faint. Buzzy. Misty paid it no heed. She knew it didn't matter anymore. "Cellemiste, no!"

Footsteps came closer. Cellemiste sank back against the wall of the basement and spread her legs wide, suckling happily at Lea's teat. Her mind was so soft. So warm and wet. So receptive and pliant and good and obedient and good.

Good. She would be a good, good girl.

But then the breast pulled away. She mewled pathetically, but Lea wasn't looking at her anymore. The fingers continued to stroke her clit, though, keeping her in that soft, wet place.

Misty turned and saw a woman with dark hair and very bright green eyes. Larya, Misty realized. Larya held the lost dagger at the muse sprite's throat.

"D-don't make me do it," the druid said, her voice carrying a hard edge that came with someone who had just done something inexcusable and was willing to do more.

Lea only blinked heavy-lidded eyes. "Do it."

Larya hesitated. Misty stared at her. Her whole world was foggy, but Larya glowed with a strange importance. Despite the pleasure pouring into her from Lea's wonderful fingers, she fought to speak.

"Please, Larya," she whimpered. "Please."

Larya looked at her, and an expression of resolve formed. Her fingers tightened.

Misty's heart clenched. "Don't stop her," she said softly.

The resolve dissolved as quickly as chalk drawings in water. Larya stared at her in stunned horror. "You—you don't know what you're saying!"

"I need this, Larya," Misty cried, shuddering as the finger stroked lovingly over her clit. "Th-this is what I prayed for. We're going to make... make beautiful things."

"But—"

"If you kill her, you kill me." Misty smiled with relief as the breast moved towards her again. "It's too late for me now."

"But you have to—I'm going to—"

Misty began to suckle again. The words faded away into unimportance.

There was a long, long silence. The fuzz poured into Misty's world once more. Voices rose above it, but they didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing save the pleasure, the worlds, the creations.

Finally, she thought, her mind wry in spite of her world's rapid simplification, I'm eating something. Happy, Snatch?

The footsteps were moving away again, slower this time. Misty wondered if Lea had used mind control to force it. She knew Lea had the power.

Somehow, though, she doubted it.

~~~~

Larya closed the basement door. Her face was streaming with tears.

"Pointless," she whispered, sinking to the floor. "Pointless."

She wanted to believe Lea had mind controlled her. She wanted to believe that she'd been forced to leave, that she'd had no choice in it. That she'd been overcome.

But Lea had been overcome by her own sort of pleasure. Larya had been holding a knife to her throat. Lea had been helpless. There had been a gods-damned knife at her throat.

Larya stared at the dagger now as she sobbed. "W-worthless thing. U-useless, stu—stupid thing!"

She curled up on the floor and allowed the self-pity and self-loathing to overtake her, painful sobs scratching through her throat. She lay there for some time.

All the sharp steel in the world didn't matter if the heart gripping it was soft.

~~~~

"Isamine!"

Isamine lay on the floor of Illetrys's apartment, masturbating herself with a vacant smile. She looked up, eyelids fluttering, as a man she dully recognized ran towards her. She frowned, struggling a moment, then smiled. "Ooh! Hi, Cellemin! What's—mmf!"

Cellemin had stuck something in her mouth. She blinked, tasting—

She spat it out with a wordless shriek of disgust. "Oh, gross, Min! Bitterbrew grounds? Really?"

The horrid, horrid taste was spiking through her like she'd swallowed a burr. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a strange clarity come with that pain and revulsion. Instinctively, she chased the clarity. Grabbed hold. Thought very, very hard.

"Isamine," Cellemin whispered, "you promised you won't smoke with them anymore."

The lust and submission lingered, but dimmer. They'd been dimming for a while, actually, but the masturbation had kept them fresh. Now...

Isamine's eyes widened. She stared up at Cellemin, blinking back tears. The triggers weren't gone, but they were forgotten. Just for a moment. Just until Illetrys came back. Seizing this moment of strength, she lurched forward and hugged Cellemin with all her might. "Oh, Min," she whimpered, "I tried! But they—they were so—"

"I know." She felt Cellemin's chest heaving, and knew he was crying. She gripped him tighter. "We gotta get outta here. She's... Shit, Minnie, Trys is unstoppable. We can't... I can't... I don't know what to do, Minnie. Sooner or later my mother's gonna let her make me fuck you, and then... I don't know what to do."

Isamine blinked. It had been so long since she'd been left with the power. She'd almost forgotten how to make decisions for herself. It was a heady, forbidden taste.

She pulled back and fixed him with an intense look. "Damn right we're getting outta here. C'mon." She got to her feet, shuddering slightly. Her pussy was still wet and eager, but she knew she would have to hold off on fucking for... a good while. An hour, at least.

"Where will we go?" Min whispered, standing with her. "I didn't... I thought I'd just bust you out, feed you a bean, and... but I didn't have any plan past it. I didn't know she'd get me."

"Course she did, doll." Minnie gave him a daring kiss on the nose. "The Illestials are good. How many more beans you got left?"

"Um... five."

Isamine grimaced. She tugged her lover by the hand. Her head was still woozy, but she was sure she could cope. She just needed time. For now, she allowed her old self to take over—the self that had gotten her into the game, the gangster, the pusher. "Doll, we're getting outta this life. No more of these sharks. We just..." She reached up and rubbed her forehead. "We need capital, babe."

Cellemin stared at her. His eyes were red-rimmed with smoke's aftereffects. Isamine knew hers had to be even worse. "Where are we gonna get anything? All I own is... well, it's mother's. And she favors Illetrys; you know she does. My sister doesn't have the strength to stand up for herself, much less myself."

"Hm." Isamine bit her lip.

She took a moment to gauge her surroundings. Trys's apartment really was gaudy—full of pricy hookahs, statuettes, bejeweled runerods... a lot of them were gifts from Cellesixe, of course. She'd never really noticed just how expensive her roommates' tastes were. Then again—and she grinned—they'd been into her, and she did not view herself as a cheap accessory.

"Well, if we're gonna piss Trys off..." She reached forward and picked up an expensive-looking sculpture from Trys's nightstand. She winked at Cellemin and tossed it into a nearby sack. "Might as well do it right."

~~~~

Snatch couldn't remember the last time he'd awoken in the same bed twice in a row.

Actually, he couldn't really remember what it felt like to wake up in a bed.

He lay on the cool, fibrous floor of the Cooing Wraith. There were raised voices coming from the floor above him—Cellesixe's office, he remembered. He was pretty good at gauging spaces.

Not all the voices were raised, he noticed, sitting up (his pants were nowhere to be seen, and his underwear was a shredded mess). One of them was very soft, smooth, and insistent. Other voices kept trying to talk over it, but the soft voice always came back, always seemed to quell whoever spoke loudest.

"Now, see here, Ilestial, I know that Sixe was sweet on you, but—"

"Shh. Shh."

"D-don't shush me, brat! You can't—"

"Shhh. Just focus on the sparkling window, Trylletip. Isn't the glass lovely?"

"You—Cellemin hasn't been found yet, and you can't just—"

"It catches the light so beautifully, doesn't it?"

There was a short pause.

"... can't... you can't just..."

Another voice spoke up. "Damn it, Tip, snap out of it! Trys, I'm not looking at the goddamn window, I'm looking at you and demanding you listen to reason. With Miste gone, Min is Sixe's heir, and—"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me..."

"What?"

"Mm. Good girl. Look me in the eyes and tell me..."

"... tell you what?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you want to be a good girl."

There was a long pause.

Snatch heard the female voice whimper something. He heard Illetrys laugh.

He looked around and spotted his shirt. He quickly donned it, and grimaced, realizing holes had been cut over his nipples. Better get out of here quick, he thought. She's gonna finish with that pretty soon, sounds like.

He looked around. His armor was nowhere to be seen—likely a lost cause. But where was...

His eyes widened. His heart began to pound.

"Your scythe and haversack are safe."

Snatch spun around. Larya stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She looked exhausted on every single imaginable level. Even Snatch could tell that much. The haversack was slung over her shoulder.

"Druid," he said, and he wasn't sure if he was angry, relieved, or guilty. He settled on angry. "What the fuck?"

"What?" She scowled at him. "They left you alive, didn't they? More than I can say for Cellemiste."

A chill settled over the room.

Snatch stood up. "They aren't going to pay us," he said quietly.

Larya rolled her eyes. "Is that all you think about?"

"Yes. And it should've been all you thought about!" Feeling the rage rise again, he jabbed Larya in the chest. "The whole reason this went haywire was because of you!"

"You went behind my back! That kelpie—"

"I had nothing to—you put me in a fucking bullshit position, druid!"

Larya and Snatch looked up sharply. The voices above had gone quiet.

"We should handle this conversation later," Larya said, her tone tight.

"Right. Where's my scythe?"

"In the bag." She gestured to the Satchel.

"Oh. Right."

They turned and ran.

~~~~

Snatch made his way down the forest path. For the first time in what felt like years, he was alone on the trail. That was for the best. It was how he wanted it. He preferred it this way.

Snatch kicked a rock.

How had everything gone so wrong so—no. Things had started wrong. This had always been a bad job. They'd known it was going to be difficult, and yet things had only gotten worse. Cellesixe. Illetrys. The smoke, which was still lingering in Snatch's system, and would be for weeks yet. Cellemiste.

Cellemiste.

He kicked the rock again.

Anger was an emotion Snatch was used to expressing. Pain, sadness, loss—less so. He had been taught to hold all of them in, to an extent. It was better to ward such unhelpful emotions off. They led to all sorts of trouble. But it was too easy to be angry.

All the same, it was not easy to deny the obvious. He'd liked Cellemiste. That she was dead was... was wrong. It wasn't fair.

"Mm. Oh, fuck..."

Snatch froze, caught midway through the act of kicking the stone again. His heart raced. Had the elves caught up? Was this some sort of trap up ahead? It was a woman's voice, but—

"Yeah... oh, but Larya, that's so naughty—"

His fists clenched. It was Lim. And since he knew for a fact that Larya had gone in the opposite direction, it was Lim masturbating and talking to herself. For some reason, this annoyed him more than it might have ordinarily. He scowled and turned to go a different direction.

Lim's bright green eyes met his. The catgirl was up on an old tree stump, her legs spread, thrusting a sex toy of some sort between her legs. She watched him with a dreamy smile. "Hi, there! Snatch, right?"

Snatch's brow furrowed. He studiously avoided looking at her, since there was no real way to look at her without looking right at a sopping-wet pussy.