Queen Yavara: Chapter 6

Chapter Six


“Yavara, it’s way too easy for me to get through that head. You need to either defend or counterattack; not try both.” Prestira lectured Yavara as the dark-elf collapsed on the floor, her chest heaving.

“Can you explain to me how I’m supposed to defend against that?” Yavara gasped as she pulled herself up.

“I told you, when you feel me manipulating our connection you need to block my advances. If you feel me up here,” Prestira placed her finger on her forehead, “that’s where you need to focus. If you feel me here, that’s where you need to focus. There are thousands of entry points into the mind, and you need to react to each of them when I try to intrude.”

“What if I don’t bother defending, and go right for a counterattack?” Yavara asked as she flexed the muscles in her hand, a bewildered expression strewn across her face.

“Counterattacking is much harder. It’s not the same as attacking. Yesterday you were on the offensive the entire time, so you dictated how our connection would be established. Today, I’m on the offensive, and I get to dictate the terms of engagement. The attacker always has the advantage, and the best course of action is to defend until they’re worn out. A counterattack leaves you completely vulnerable if you fail. Now, focus on the point of intrusion, and block me!”

Yavara’s eyes rolled into her head, her expression going slack. Prestira took a moment to make Yavara slap herself before she let the elf go.

“Too easy, Yavara! You’re not concentrating on the point of attack; you’re trying to defend you whole mind at once. Again!”

Yavara lasted about two seconds longer before she collapsed on the ground. Prestira looked at me with a concerned expression. “We’ve been here for hours with no progress, Zander. Yavara isn’t going to be able to fuck her way out of every situation; she needs to put herself in the right mindset.”

“Yavara isn’t used to playing defensively.” I mused, “I think she may have more luck just counterattacking than trying to defend. It goes against her nature to stand back and take the punishment.”

“She sure enjoyed taking my punishment.” Brock replied from his whiskey bottle in the corner.

“Submission is not the same as defense, Brock.” Prestira replied to the orc, “Submission is what you do after defense has failed.”

“I can’t believe you let him up here.” I scowled at Prestira.

Prestira shrugged. “The moment I saw what he was packing, I gave him a double-or-nothing proposition to get out of it. Brock was convinced that all our lessons would devolve into an orgy, so he said that if he won, he’d get to participate in the next lesson, and I had to blow him. I lost.”

Brock grabbed his crotch and sneered at me. “I think she lost on purpose, Zander.”

Did you?

He dropped his dick on the board and dared me to checkmate him. It was an unorthodox, but effective endgame. I got curious.


I’m not the one who let him stick his fingers up my ass. Which reminds me…

Yavara abruptly got to her knees, her expression wide and brainless, her tongue lolling from her panting mouth. Prestira patted her lap, and like a submissive pup, Yavara crawled to her master. She sat compliantly on Prestira’s lap and spread her legs, her tight black dress sliding up her thighs until it sprung passed her hips, revealing everything between her legs. She pressed her heels into the floor and rose into a leg-shaking squat, then by the behest of her master, she reached beneath herself, and spread her bronze globes. Prestira smiled into her captive’s eyes, and slid her hand through Yavara’s leaking folds, lubricating her fingers. Yavara shuddered and whimpered, then hissed when Prestira’s hand glided down her taint. Prestira pinched her fingers together beneath Yavara’s favorite hole, and uttered a single command.


Prestira released Yavara’s mind just as the elf collapsed onto Prestira’s lap. Yavara’s eyes bulged, her chest shot forward to jiggle one breast free. She may have screamed then, had Prestira not forced their mouths together. She soothed Yavara with her lips and tongue, and Yavara relaxed to reciprocate in kind, their cheeks going gaunt in their gentle devouring. Yavara caressed Prestira’s jaw before letting her go, her eyes half closed, a crooked smile creeping across her lips.

“I guess that was payback.”

“You guessed right.” Prestira whispered into Yavara’s ear, her hand defiling the elf beneath her dress, “I’d thought there’d be more room in here after yesterday’s foray, but it’s such a snug fit.”

“It must be my succubus D.N.A.” Yavara whispered back, crinkling her nose.

“Get back over there, you little bitch.” Prestira laughed as she pushed Yavara off her. I swore I heard a squelching sound mark the exit of Prestira’s fist, but I couldn’t be sure with Yavara’s violent cry of delight. The elf took a moment to recover from the blow, then looked over her shoulder at Prestira, and began crawling lasciviously away, her skirt riding her hips. Prestira watched her go, undoubtedly admiring her handy work. She brought that hand to her nose, and inhaled, her eyes rolling a little. Coming back into focus, she tentatively poked out her tongue, and tested the taste of one finger. She raised her eyebrows, then she tested the other four, making sure Yavara watched her do it.

Prestira was sexually competitive, if not combative, and I knew her well enough to know she viewed Yavara as competition. I wasn’t so vain to think that I was the prize, though I was sure Prestira enjoyed the idea of testing her lecherous mettle against Alkandi’s incarnation; no, it was just Prestira’s nature. She hadn’t been born with magic, but learned it and mastered it through countless hours and horrific self-sacrifices. Not being a natural-born meant she had to constantly prove herself, and so developed quite the chip on her shoulder. Yavara was a natural-born harlot (to put it nicely), and Prestira once again set herself to prove that experience trumps genetics. Whatever depths Yavara would go to, Prestira would follow. I wasn’t complaining. Judging by Brock’s face, he wasn’t either.

Prestira took a deep breath and composed herself. “Zander thinks that it would be better if we ignored mental defense, and focused solely on counterattacking. This goes against convention, but I suppose you are not a conventional girl. A successful counterattack is incredibly difficult; you must not only react to the place in your mind I attack, but also grab hold of the connection and make it your own. Failing to do either of these things will leave you completely vulnerable to me. Are you ready?”

Yavara nodded and locked eyes with Prestira. They stared intensely at each other as the battle raged in their minds, but from an outward appearance, it looked like Yavara was exerting herself much more. Her eyes became bloodshot, her temple pulsed, and her lower lip trembled. With a defeated groan, she finally collapsed. Prestira sighed, and made Yavara stand up. The possessed dark-elf walked seductively across the room, her hips swaying from side to side, her orange eyes fixated on Brock’s crotch. Brock couldn’t get his pants down fast enough, fumbling desperately with his belt as his eyes shown with eagerness.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t take you all the way last night.” Prestira spoke seductively through Yavara’s mouth, her own lips moving silently, “I’m not built for it, I’m afraid. But she is. Here’s a consolation prize.”

Yavara bent over at the hips, her thighs pressed together, her dress tightening alluringly around her glutes. She ran her tongue between the orc’s balls before sliding it up his shaft, slowly licking her way to the head. At the other end of the room, Prestira licked her own lips, eyes closed in hedonistic splendor. Yavara wrapped her lush mouth about Brock, and slowly descended while maintaining eye contact. Prestira made Yavara continue even after the elf gagged, saliva secreting from her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. An unsightly bulge began to from in Yavara’s elegant throat, but she didn’t cease her advance. She took him to the base, and when her nose pressed into Brock’s loins, Prestira let out an exhilarated gasp. Yavara rotated her lips as she ascended, slurping sounds emanating from the seal, her cheeks hollowing with the suction. Up and down, Yavara drew a ponderous path, sheening Brock sensually, never breaking the pattern. It would have been enough for most men to be taken so generously by a beautiful woman, but bit Brock. Without warning, he grabbed the back of Yavara’s head, and forced it all the way down. Prestira sounded a cry of delight, and Yavara sounded a muffled squeal, her eyes bulging. Brock held Yavara’s head down while he thrusted into her, turning her pristine portrait into a ruin of smeared makeup and leaking spit, her eyes slowly rolling upward and losing focus. As she gurgled and gagged in abuse, Prestira writhed on the floor, her hands pushed between her grinding thighs, her teeth pressing into her lower lip. With a final grunt, Brock forced his entire length into Yavara, and a moment later, his white seed leaked from her relaxed lips. Prestira screamed in delight on the floor, sucking the fingers of one had while the other finished between her thighs.

Yavara withdrew from the orc and swallowed, smiling gratefully down at him, and drawing a lascivious finger about her lips to collect the leftovers. Prestira regained control of herself, and released her captive. Yavara’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she stumbled before catching herself on the table.

“That was a little far, Prestira.” Yavara gasped as she held her throat.

“Every time you fail it will only get worse for you, Yavara. There’s no learning if failure isn’t met with consequence.”

Yavara coughed up a bit of Brock and wiped her mouth. “When I get control of you Prestira, I’m not going to be very nice.”

“If you can successfully counterattack me, you can do whatever you want to me.” Prestira smirked.

Yavara leaned down. “Is that a promise?” She whispered against Prestira’s mouth, tracing the witch’s cheek with her fingers.

“Yes.” Prestira whispered back. The two parted without a kiss, both sets of lips quirked deviously. Prestira clearly never thought she’d have to pay for that promise, and Yavara obviously thought she’d just lured Prestira into a trap. I couldn’t say definitively who I believed was right.

Yavara sat cross-legged across from Prestira and focused on the witch’s eyes. “Are you ready?” She asked before Prestira could, breaking the predefined roles of pupil and master.

“Yes.” Prestira smirked simply, not goaded to anger easily.

Brock nudged me with his elbow. “Whoever loses, we win!” He growled, excitement shining in his eyes. I couldn’t help but grin back.

Yavara was holding out against Prestira, her face fixed with concentration. Sweat dripped down her forehead, the muscles in her jaw tightened, her cheeks flushed, and her nostrils flared. Prestira stared placidly back, her lips curving in a slight smile. Tears were glimmering from Yavara’s eyes now, and her face had gone from red, to purple. Prestira inclined her head by a fraction. Yavara was breathing laboriously, her lids fluttering, a vein in her forehead revealing itself and pulsing with her temple. Prestira yawned. A vessel burst in Yavara’s eye, and Prestira collapsed on the floor. I gawked disbelievingly as Yavara let out a whoop, and leapt to her feet. Prestira rose slowly to her knees, her hands dangling from her arms as though she was a dog. Yavara strutted over to her new pet and stroked her hair, and Prestira reciprocated with panting canine affection.

“Zander, can you conjure a leash for Prestira? And how about a chain for her tits?” Yavara asked me excitedly. I raised my finger and obliged the elf. A black leash formed around Prestira’s neck, and a golden chain connected her breasts by her piercings. Yavara slid Prestira’s robe from her shoulders, exposing the slender nakedness of the sorceress.

“What do you plan to do with your new dog now?” I asked.

Yavara took Prestira’s leash. “I’m going to take her for a walk. Disguise me, Zander.”

I cast the spell, causing Yavara’s eyes to turn green, and her ears to round over. She guided the crawling Prestira down the stairs and into the bar. The sound of clanking glasses and joyous calls dwindled to deathly silence as “Trisha” displayed the establishment’s owner to the patrons. She walked Prestira through the crowd, her head held high, a smirk creasing her lips. Prestira crawled after. Murmurs started floating from the customers. The murmurs rose to a steady grumble, then an excited boiling of shouts and laughter. Yavara stood atop the bar, proud before her audience, and Prestira climbed after to sit on her haunches before her master’s feet. Frankly, I expected the first public address of the Dark Queen to go quite differently.

“Does everyone like my new pet?” Yavara asked the spectators.

The crowd roared in thunderous approval.

“And who here wants to play with my new bitch?” Yavara yelled.

The patrons clamored around Prestira and began to grope her. Prestira licked every hand that passed by her face, and moaned with every slap and squeeze from the strangers. I’d seen her humbled before, but this… this was something else. I had to remind myself that Prestira had agreed to this, lest I break up the event and cause a riot.

“Listen up!” Yavara yelled to the crowd, “Prestira is so grateful for your patronage that she is going to fuck whoever wants her! The price of admission is ten gold pieces for her mouth, fifteen for her pussy, and twenty for her ass; you may direct your payments to the wizard.”

Glasses clanged, feet pounded, and every patron rushed over to me, forming a line and jockeying noisily for position.

“No need to rush!” Yavara yelled, “Prestira won’t leave until every last one of you is serviced!”

“And what about you, Trisha?” A voice cut through the crowd.

“Me?” Yavara exclaimed, touching her cheek and blushing.

“Yeah, how much for the hottest piece of ass in Ardeni?” Another voice yelled.

Yavara looked at all the men in the crowd, licking her lips. She pushed the straps of her dress over her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor.

“I’m for free!” She yelled, and the crowd erupted.

Brock glanced at me with a frown. “I told her she didn’t have to do this; there are other ways to make money.”

“We’re not making money off Yavara.” I sighed, “She’s doing this for… other reasons.”

“Yeah…” Brock said as he watched the crowd surge toward the women, “I’m going to lock the door before half the city lines up.”

Yavara perched herself on a barstool, her hands resting between her legs on its front, her ass sticking outward from the end of her arched back. She positioned Prestira in a similar manner on the barstool next to her. The first round of men came up and gave me twenty coins for each woman. They were the humans that had groped Yavara the day before, and they were giddy with excitement.

“Don’t go in dry now, boys; you need to prime us before you can pump.” Yavara said, smiling lecherously over her shoulder.

The two men dropped two their knees, spread the women open, and spit. I saw a shudder move across Yavara’s body when one of the men planted his face between her cheeks, and Prestira let out a moan as the other stuck a finger into her ass, rotating it. The men were hasty with their foreplay, and after only a minute they stood, lined up their shots, and pushed in. The crowd roared its approval as Yavara and Prestira cried out in unison; Yavara growing languid with whorish relief, Prestira wrenching back to exalt agony to the ceiling. The men were not gentle with the women. Prestira’s knuckles whitened against the barstool as her anal virginity was taken while Yavara projected squeals of delight from both their mouths.

“Quit the foreplay, and fuck me!” She screamed, and the patrons cheered their concurrence.

The humans’ thrusts grew more powerful, their face wrought with exertion and lust. Yavara’s man slapped her ass while he pumped into her, her bronze globes turning bright red with hand prints, jiggling and shining in the barroom light. The elf cried out from each hit and pressed her ass backward to the man, encouraging his roughness. The crowd goaded for more. Not to be outdone, the other man took Prestira’s hair and yanked it back, deepening the already-exaggerated bow of her back. Prestira’s face bore Yavara’s expression of masochistic delight, and she sung over the noise, high and true. Yavara kept her back arched and leaned her upper body backward, her tits bouncing freely. She craned her neck and whispered, “choke me” into her man’s ear, and he obliged enthusiastically. I heard Yavara’s thanking whimper sound before her voice was cut short. Prestira’s man snaked a thumb beneath her nipple chain and pulled it down as he tightened his hold on her leash. Her eyeshadow streaked down her cheeks, exalting tears carrying it. Their pace increased to frenetic blur, filling the heavy air with the slaps of flesh, and the rising cry of the strangled performers. The crowd accompanied the crescendo with stomping feet and an escalating roar until their heinous call harmonized with the rapturous squeals of the women, the thick growls of the men. I could tell when they came, not by the pitch of their cries, but by the sudden release of tension in their bodies. Both men pulled out at once and spread the women, allowing the crowd to see the evidence dripping onto the barstool from gaping pink holes. They were ushered back into the fray with exuberant claps on the back and handshakes, while Yavara and Prestira took a metaphorical bow, sloppily kissing to thunderous applause. They were thoroughly disheveled and abused, but it was only the end of the first act.

Two more men stepped up, and each pressed twenty pieces into my hand. Yavara looked at Prestira with a thrilled smile as the men entered where the other two had left. Prestira hunched her shoulders, her body taken with the pain and pleasure. Yavara was more relaxed, resting her head or her man’s shoulder with her fingers locked behind his head, her belly distended with her arching back, the soft lines of muscle flexing.

“You’re just the town dumpster, aren’t you Trish?” The man taunted into Yavara’s ear.

“That’s right big boy, fill this filthy dumpster up.” Yavara gasped with a lecherous grin.

Yavara’s man deformed her tits with his hands, gripping tightly enough to cause her flesh to protrude from between his fingers. She moaned delectably, tilting her head back and entangling tongues with the human, their kiss open-mouthed for all to see. Juxtaposing the display of graceful depravity was Prestira, who was doubled-over in the intensity of her anal ruination, her hands gripping the edge of the bar, screams erupting from her lips. Prestira’s man hoisted his hands under the witch’s legs, bringing her off her stool as her ankles flew in the air. Strings of comingled fluids dripped from her, before snapping when she was lifted from her seat.

“Hey John, bring Trish over here and let the ladies play with each other!” Prestira’s man roared.

John picked Yavara up by the thighs and brought the elf over to Prestira, pressing the women against each other. Their breasts squished and distorted against one another while they cried their pleasure to the ceiling, their forms glistening with sweat. A goblin ran over to John and handed him a double-sided dildo. Why a goblin had it handy, I did not ask, and neither did John when he took the dildo and slid it into Yavara’s vacant slit. Yavara barely had time to react to the new development before Prestira’s man pushed the witch’s pelvis forward, forcing Yavara to penetrate her. Their eyes went wide with mutual shock, but Yavara recovered with all the grace she could muster. She locked lips with Prestira, their mouths consuming while the men forced them to fuck each other with each ferocious thrust.

Hey Zander, what are the chances Prestira loses her shit if I let her go? Yavara asked, her hands traversing Prestira’s breasts to pull on the chain that linked them.

High. I do not recommend it, she’s probably boiling over in that head of hers.

I’ll ask her. Hey Prestira, if I give you back control of your body, are you going to be a party-pooper?

I don’t know what Zander’s talking about; I'm the girl who fucked him in front of all my patrons, this just seems like the next logical step. Look at you, you little entrepreneur, selling a possessed woman for coin. You know I want half the profits.

Of course. Yavara grinned around her vulgar kiss, You sure you won’t be mad?

This cock in my ass feels too good to be mad. And the way your hips grind that dildo into me… let me out so I can enjoy my body.

My, my, Prestira. You turned into quite the anal slut.

I learned from the best.

Prestira’s eyes quivered before coming back to life, avaricious and wild. She wrapped her hands around the elf’s head and pressed herself closer, their kiss burning with passion. The two men leaned back and drove into the women with all their might, mercilessly smashing Prestira and Yavara’s pelvises together, the dildo between them disappearing and reappearing between a blur of pale and bronze flesh. They dangled helplessly from the men as they were speared, their juices flowing down their cheeks and dripping onto the floor, their feet bouncing in the air. With a final growl, the men emptied their balls into the women, forcing their writhing figures together with a climactic thrust. Yavara and Prestira broke their kiss to scream in delight, their voices hoarse and their faces flushed, but their bodies exuberant in the dance of ecstasy. The men evacuated the women’s holes without ceremony, semen splattering onto the floorboards below gaping rectums between cruelly-spread legs. They placed their costars back on their stools, and gave each an encouraging slap on the ass. Prestira giggled and locked her fingers with Yavara.

“This is so much fun!” Prestira said, her voice high with girlish excitement.

“And there’s so many more to go!” Yavara laughed, her eyes filled with equal exuberance.

Four more men walked up to me, each of them pressing forty-five gold pieces into my hand. “We want everything.”

Prestira looked at Yavara with a broad smile, her body shaking in excitement. Yavara led her by the leash, and Prestira followed compliantly, giddy like a maiden at her first ball, save for the limp in her step. I connected eyes with her from across the room, and her character broke for just a moment to deliver me an expression of familiar scorn.

Don’t give me that look. Prestira frowned.

How can I not? This is so off-brand for you I’d say you were pretending, but even you’re not that good of an actress.

I have many shades, Zander.

I gave her a frank look. You’re a control-freak. Always have been.

Prestira returned my look with a helpless, unfettered smile. It was radiant. She makes me want to give up that control. Who knows what I’ll do next? Prestira bit her lip excitedly, Even I don’t know how far I’ll go. She turned away from me without a look back, leaving me to stare bewilderedly -and a little wondrously- after her.

“How do you want us?” Yavara asked the men, a coy smile stretched across her face.

“We want to fill this bitch air-tight while you watch.” One of them replied, gesturing to Prestira. For her part, Prestira blushed like the man had just given her a bouquet of flowers. Prestira… blushing?!

“Mmmmm, that’s sounds fun!” Yavara grinned appraisingly at that man, then whipped her head around. “Prestira! Get on your knees you stupid slut!” Prestira immediately dropped to her knees, her eyes full of vulnerability. Who was this woman?

“That’s right,” Yavara said as she pressed her ass to one of the men, her hand reaching back to bring his face to her neck, “just a little whore ready to be filled, aren’t you Prestira?”

Prestira nodded obediently.

“Come here, slave,” Yavara said as she wrapped the leash around her hand, forcing Prestira to crawl to the elf, “come serve your masters.”

Yavara’s man sat on a stool, and hoisted her facing away her onto his lap. She took him easily into her womanhood, her dominant persona faltering to express her whorish relief with a soft moan. She soon regained her composure and straddled her man, dancing on his cock with a lecherous writhe that showed the athletic shadows of her belly. She dawned her imperious mask, and regarded the crawling witch with a look of utter contempt.

“Take the bitch.”

One man grabbed Prestira by her chain and forced her upright, his cock prodding her lips. Prestira gazed up submissively, and complied. Not quickly enough, apparently, for the man impatiently pulled Prestira to him, forcing a gag from her throat when his entire length drove down her esophagus. I might’ve killed the bastard if I didn’t know he was giving her exactly what she wanted. Another man positioned himself under Prestira and sunk his cock into her slit while the final man moved behind her and slowly pushed his extensive organ into her gaping anus. Prestira’s muffled exaltation could be heard throughout the room, and the patrons cheered to see her so defiled. And me? Well, I was confused. On one hand, I was rocking a boner that could’ve cut diamonds, and on the other, I felt an odd… jealousy.

“Yeah, Prestira!” Brock yelled next to me, clapping his hands energetically. I glowered at him, and the cadence of his applause dwindled somewhat, before accelerating with a defiant sneer.

Yavara yanked on Prestira’s leash, forcing her neck high and her back into a bow. Yavara settled onto her new throne while the man beneath her methodically drove, his impressive girth stretching her pussy wide.

“You should see yourself, Prestira.” Yavara moaned delectably, acting as the queen of debauchery, “You look so happy with those cocks in you. A little slut in her natural state. Drive into her harder, boys; your slave is getting complacent.” Her subjects obeyed without protest, plowing into my poor ex-wife until her eyes glazed over, her mind engulfed in the brutal passion, her body simply reacting on instinct. There was a moment, a mere millisecond when her eyes refocused, and from above the man she was sucking, she looked directly at me.

I’ll stop if you want me to. She said, I’d hate you a little for it, but I’d do it.

You do what you want. I don’t care. And even as I thought it, I cringed. If Prestira could smile, she would’ve been grinning from ear to ear.

Dinner tomorrow? She asked.


I can make the reservations; I know the perfect place.

We are not doing this. Ever. I said with such venom that I swore I saw Prestira flinch. Though her eyes were already glistening with ecstatic tears, they seemed to redden somewhat as they looked at me.

It’s a dockside café by the harbor. The sunset shines on the bay, and it looks like the water is on fire. I’ll get us a patio spot.

Maybe you should ask one of your new friends.

They have such great softshell crab. Her voice broke on the last word.

I looked to the ceiling despairingly, then back down at her. Something in me gave way when I gazed into those white sorceress’s eyes. Though her body reacted with violent euphoria, and her expression was gaunt with her gluttonous sucking, her eyes were fixed pleadingly on me.

I haven’t had seafood in a long time. I said with a rueful smile.

Her eyes shone like the sun. Will seven work?

Eight’s better. I shook my head, chuckling to myself, You know, I’m not sure why, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you more beautiful than you are now.

Prestira blushed once again, making her even more gorgeous. Considering my current position, I’m not sure how to take that, Zander.

That cuckold fetish you accused me of having yesterday? Yeah, I think I might be developing it.

Well then… Prestira’s eyes sparkled with that familiar teasing glint, Feast your eyes, Zander.

“…and you,” Yavara’s voice came into focus as she directed her attention to the man she sat upon, “you need fuck me harder than this, or I’ll give you your money back and get someone else. You paid for everything, I want you to take everything!”

The man underneath Yavara did what she asked, lifting the elf up by her cheeks and pounding relentlessly between her legs. Yavara’s eyes and mouth opened wide in shock at the man’s unexpected ferocity, her neck striating with tension about a suppressed scream. Prestira squirmed in elation between the pressing bodies of her masters, their coalescence occasionally broken to reveal the meat stuffed perversely into her orifices.

“That’s it boys, take that little bitch.” Yavara gasped, barely holding on to her composure. The three men switched positions, rotating between Prestira’s ass, pussy and mouth. Every time they pulled out, Prestira coughed in relief while her holes slowly contracted to their natural size, only for her mouth to be filled with the man that was just in her ass, and her holes to be stretched wide again. By the way she sucked her abuser, I could tell she found perverse decadence in the flavor of her shithole. She took him tenderly into her throat despite his raging thrusts, and gripped the shoulders of the man below her for dear life as he and his comrade tried to tear her in half from the inside.

“Don’t let up on that fucking slut; she can’t stand for a second not to have every one of her holes filled.” Yavara moaned the order.

“You know what, Trish?” One of the men said as he pulled out of Prestira’s mouth, “I’m sick of you telling us what to do.”

The man walked over to Yavara and yanked her hair back, eliciting an aroused giggle from the elf.

“Have I been a bad little girl? Did I overstep myself?” Yavara asked in an innocent voice, her eyes full of provocation, her teeth excitedly biting her lower lip. She quickly shed her guise as the dominant mistress, and without preamble, she pressed her heels into a rung of the stool, evacuated her pussy with a cry, then squatted atop her throne, and took the cock deep into her retightened exit. She shuddered when she hit bottom, closing her eyes to relish her favorite activity. When she opened her lids, she revealed a lustrous, wanting stare. Oh, Yavara could be submissive, but even in submission, she would get what she wanted. No man alive could deny that stare. She forked her fingers about her lover’s lips, revealing her oozing depths to the man before her. “Then put me in my place.” She hissed. They did.

A few seconds later, Yavara hung helplessly in the air between the men, her cries growing more intense with every simultaneous thrust they delivered. Nectar flowed freely from her nethers, dripping from the bridge of her holes and splattering the floor below. Prestira’s voice joined Yavara’s over the grunts and groans of the men, and the two doubly-penetrated women came a third time, their defiled bodies quivering and kicking with the convulsions. The men roughly evacuated them once more, splashing their seed upon the floor. Taking to heart her role as the dutiful bitch, Prestira immediately lapped up what had been spilled from her. No longer the master of the pair, Yavara scrambled to do the same, her hips perched high to show the crowd the extent of her ruination. They loved her for it.

Two orcs came up to me and pressed forty-five gold pieces into my hand.

“Do you think you can handle them?” Yavara whispered to Prestira as they licked cum from the floor.

Prestira regarded the approaching patrons, then shook her head. “You’re going to have to take one for the team.”

Yavara didn’t have time to negotiate. She was quickly pulled up by the hips and held parallel to the floor, her limbs dangling helplessly. An exhilarated yelp came from her, followed by a tremoring whimper. The orc pressed his head to Yavara’s gaping rim, and pushed. Yavara moaned huskily, her eyes closed, her face fixed in concentration. The orc pushed deeper. Yavara’s moans grew louder and higher, turning to gasping cries of pure delight. Her back slowly arched as she was penetrated, as if the orc’s cock compelled its curvature by the inch. The other orc positioned himself in front of her, and pushed his cock into her mouth. Yavara’s jaw was opened to capacity, her neck bulged, her eyes glimmered, but she didn’t surrender even a gag. The audience was enraptured, their cheers dwindled to a hushed silence as they watched Yavara take both beasts to the hilt. It didn’t seem anatomically possible, and the orcs were just as amazed as everyone else, staring with disbelieving eyes when the last of themselves disappeared. Though they violated the woman between them, they did it with an odd gentleness that bordered on reverence. They couldn’t know on a logical level that they were servicing their rightful queen, but I suspected they knew somewhat on an instinctual level. Prestira watched with wide eyes from the floor, her face a portrait of admiration. The strong-willed, unconquerable Prestira, seemingly kneeling in worship before the idol of depravity. Yes, Yavara was special, and though none but Brock, Prestira and I knew why, everyone knew that it was so. The orcs retreated to the end, then drove as one, and Yavara bent between them, her eyes rolled back. Again, and again they did it; withdrawing slowly before thrusting fiercely, filling the whore in a ritualistic, primal dance. The crowd’s noise swelled with each retreat, and roared with the sudden advance, an auditory compliment to Yavara’s gurgled screams. Six goblins came up to me and pressed their gold into my hands, breaking me from my trance.

“We want the witch!” The three-foot tall spindly man said.

“And how can I serve you little guys?” Prestira said lustfully, crawling over to me and the patrons.

“We’re here to serve you, Prestira.” Their spokesman said, a long, forked tongue descending from his mouth.

“Are you going to clean out my filthy holes?” Prestira grinned, her shoulders pushed forward, pressing her breasts together as she seductively swayed her hips behind her.

Prestira brought her face to the goblin, who’s tongue wrapped around her own and pulled it from her mouth. She gave the goblin an open-mouth smile while another ran its long thin tongue down her throat. The two goblins slithered their way into her mouth and down her esophagus; a gentle, exploratory invasion. Prestira gave in willingly, lying on her back with hedonistic lassitude, spreading her legs to await further doting. Her pussy and anus were filled with two tongues apiece, the wet members entwining, then sliding easily past her worn resistances. Prestira groaned and arched her back from the floor when the goblins’ entwined tongues began corkscrewing; a slippery excavation of her ruby depths. I didn’t know how long a goblin’s tongue was, but I don’t think I saw the end of it that day. Prestira slithered lethargically upon the floor, her motions sensual and lithe, reflecting the manner of her invasion.

Yavara’s situation was less ideal, though she wasn’t complaining. Her anus was partially prolapsed, and her chin was wet with spit that leaked unimpeded from her lips. The orcs hadn’t stopped their ponderous rhythm, but each slow withdrawal was accompanied by a drawn-out pleading moan from Yavara, and each sudden thrust was accentuated with an escalating scream. She was coming. In and out, in and out; the cadence never increased, but Yavara’s ardency did. She writhed helplessly in the hair, bucking and heaving as her partners pulled back, then accelerated forward. Her body went rigid, her back curved, her thighs trembled. The orc in her ass gripped the supple cheeks he was pressed to, and with a growl, he ripped himself out. A roar erupted from the crowd when Yavara’s anus came out with him, constricting into a ruby rosebud about her exit. Yavara’s abdomen flexed and convulsed as though in the heaves of vomiting, then her cunt squirted its approval all over the floor. An even greater cheer erupted from the crowd, and the elf pulled the man from her throat, revealing the milky trophy he’d left to dribble from her lips. Ignored by the patrons was Prestira, though she didn’t seem to mind. She elevated her hips from the floor in a gentle ascension, crying out weakly as she squirted a fourth time.

Ten dwarves pressed ten gold pieces into my hand each.

“You fuckers are so goddamn cheap.” Brock grunted as they formed two single-file lines in front of the women.

The dwarves’ members reflected their stature, and what the patrons lacked in length, they made up for in girth. Yavara and Prestira struggled to wrap their lips around the men, turning their pristine faces into hollow-cheeked ovals stuffed with meat. But they managed. One after the other, the women took the short-statured men, delighting in the variety afforded to them. Prestira was more efficient than Yavara, and her line grew shorter as her belly distended with fullness.

“You need to catch up, Trisha.” Prestira teased, wrapping her fingers around another dwarf.

Yavara’s eyes rolled hedonistically as her man groaned, a few drips of his cum descending from her nostrils. “I like to savor my food when I eat it, Prestira.” She smiled back at Prestira, who laughed at the portrait Yavara presented. But Yavara accepted Prestira’s challenge, and as the day went on, they indulged gluttonously in the competition. Man after man, they took, sometimes one at a time, sometimes several. Even a few ambitious female patrons sought to steal a bit of attention for themselves. They strutted to the bar full of bravado and cheer, heedless of the predatory grins Prestira and Yavara shared. The ambitious women were left lying in puddles of their own making, almost as humiliated as they were satisfied. Almost, for any shame they bore was overshadowed by the stupid grins stretched across their faces. I watched the spectacle with a frustrated erection as my pockets weighed down with coin. Daylight faded, the crowd thinned, and the overwhelming stench of sex grew heavier in the air. By closing time, there was only one patron left in the bar, and she seemed more interested in her drink than the spectacle that laid before her.

“Mmmm, I don’t think this is ever going back to normal, Trisha.” Prestira moaned as she prodded Yavara’s rosebud anus with her tongue, “I’ve never seen an asshole turned inside out like this before; does it feel good when I lick it?”

“So good.” Yavara groaned, her head resting on the back of her hands. “You were so amazing today, Prestira. It was such a treat to watch you explore yourself.”

Prestira laughed open-mouthed, her tongue working the petals of Yavara’s outturned asshole. “You were the amazing one. I thought those orcs were going to break you in half, but you took them with such grace.”

“It’s evolution.” Yavara sniggered over her shoulder, “You can’t compete, you old whore.”

Prestira giggled, and forced Yavara’s rectum back into her body with a punishing fist. Yavara gasped, reeled upward, then screamed in abject ecstasy. Prestira laughed sonorously over the shrill exclamation, twisting her consumed forearm. “God, you’re such a slut, Yavara.”

I stopped the arrow an inch from Prestira’s face. The assailant barely had time to draw another before Brock crashed into her. Yavara and Prestira bolted upright, unsure of what just transpired. Brock wrestled with the attacker before finally subduing her on the table, and ripping off her hood. It was an elven ranger. Her white-blonde hair was in a braided ponytail, and her skin was as pale as the moon. Her blue eyes stared daggers into me as Brock pressed down on her body. Yavara stood up from the floor, her face contorted in shock.


End of Part Two.

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