A Wicked Waltz...

A wicked Waltz . . .

Beneath her dress, a forbidden ache stirred. Petalose folds simmered with warmth, warmth that was slowly inching its way down her thighs, fragrant, musky warmth.

She gave her companions injured glances. Did they know? Could they guess that she, the most reclusive of the three, the least given to intimate touch, could be---

He stared at her, his piercing, slitted amber eyes glowing menacingly. Slowly he placed a hand on her shoulder, towering over her, shielding her with his blue-black wings as she hovered in the air and occasionally twisted to alleviate the ache between her thighs.

“You’re not like us,” he said slowly. Their companion looked up, dwarfed and hunched over. The little bell fixed to his right hand, in the act of ringing, fell silent with a dissonant tink.

“Now that you mention it,” he rasped, “he isn’t, not at all.” He slinked up to scrutinize her very closely. “Here . . . ” he said with a forbidding growl, “he’s soft.” His hand roamed across the laced bodice of her dress. “Soft. And weak.” He slit the laces open with his talons, and her bodice flapped open, revealing her shame in the form of two dark, fleshy mounds, topped with crinkling, impossibly red points.

“He’s different!” the taller accused. “Look at these monstrous things!” He seized a breast with his talon-tipped hand, squeezing it painfully.

She arched into his touch, moaning, a hoarse, guttural noise. Wet, sticky heat slithered down her thighs.

“N-No!” she rasped. “Don’t touch me . . . !”

“How precious,” her diminutive tormentor hissed gleefully. He dropped the little bell, his talons raking down her dress, tearing it open. “But what’s this . . . ?” he purred, catching sight of the steaming little slit between her legs. “I suspect you are not a man at all.”

“Ah-hh,” she moaned as he reached forward and slipped a talon into her folds, stroking the hidden prize within her. “Gods . . . it . . . it . . . I’m not a man,” she cried. “Not a man at all!” Her wings flapped unsteadily, and she arched back, revealing the rouge lips of the dripping little mouth nestled beneath her belly. “Please . . . ! L-Let me go!”

He drew his finger back, smelling the silky stickiness. “Ah!” He lifted his clawed finger to his unseen lips, his tongue snaking out to taste her. “Delicious,” he decided after sucking his finger clean. “I think I’ll have more . . . ” he rasped huskily, and reared forward, pulling her down atop his face.

She mewled as his tongue slithered up into her, like a wet, muscular serpent, and lashed against her inner sheath. Her fingers pushed him, pulled him back, pushed him again, push-pull-push, and then she gripped him by his hat and jerked him to her, whining as his tongue lapped her folds.

Her taller captor pulled her bodice open further and crossed to her side, lifting one of her arms around his feather-ruffed neck. “Hold on,” he commanded her, and she gripped his shoulder through the thick cloth and feathers. He nipped down her neck with his pointed teeth, and fixed them on her nipple---biting, laving, sucking greedily. She arched into his mouth, raking her nails into his shoulder.

“Gods . . . !” Her wings buckled, sending her to the ground. Helpless, she backed away from her tormentors’ ravenous mouths and tongues.

“N . . . No,” she whispered fearfully, as they unbuckled their trousers and pulled them open. “No!” Her predecessor’s cock was short and monstrously thick, and rimmed with icy blue curls. She had no doubt it would ream her wide open, wherever it went. But the final model of the three exposed a longer, darker cock nested in electric white kinks, as he grinned beneath his hempen hat.

“Behind her,” he commanded. “Above her face.” As his companion moved, he dove, quick as a flash, to compress her body into the ground. Her slit dripped with anticipation, belying her fear, welcoming his cock as he thrust it in, agony streaking through her body. He flipped her body deftly over below his, pulling her to hands and knees. “Now,” he ordered, “suck his cock. I want to see you filled from mouth to cunt.”

She whimpered, latching on to the smaller mage’s trousers, and pulled herself up to suck his thick shaft into her mouth. He groaned and hissed, sounding like a beast rather than a mage. His talons dug into her shoulders, pulling her and holding her still as he thrust his cock into her mouth, then pulled it back, then thrust it in again. A delicious slippery sound sloshed from her mouth and slit.

The cock inside her swelled, stretching her as it thrust and pounded. She arched back like a cat, the pain mingling with a strange, deep sort of pleasure. Her lips drew tight around the cock in her mouth and she sucked it as though it were a sweetmeat.

Teeth tore at her wing, ripping primary feathers, blue and gold fluttering to the ground. Her folds swelled, pulled away, exposed the small knot between them. She cried out around the invading cock, buried to the hilt in her mouth, as taloned fingers caressed the knot, squeezed it, rubbed it into fiery life.

“Ah,” she moaned. “Augh, yes . . . ” She hollowed her shadowed cheeks and sucked for dear life as they pounded in and out of her, her breasts swelling, a glowing pink flush blooming down her neck and over her sleek belly.

“Nhfm,” the first expressed, his wings beating the air. Feathers scattered around him like blue leaves in a windstorm. “I’m . . . yes, oh, yes . . . Shall we fill our beautiful captive to brimming?”

“Give me but a moment,” his companion hissed, stabbing further with his cock. Her sheath convulsed around him as she bucked underneath him, wailing and keening, raking furrows in the ground, her gold-tipped wings mauling the air. Hot, slippery warmth surrounded his cock like a deluge, and he lost himself, pumping into her, filling her full of thick seed.

“Mmngh, yes!” the other cried. The cock in her mouth flared and erupted, filling her throat with thick bitterness. She sputtered around it, choking, and finally swallowed the flow. He thrust twice more, panted, and withdrew, leaving her mouth dripping with a circle of milky white.

They moved away, turning, buckling their trousers closed, and turned back for a moment to admire their work. She lay on the ground, prone, dripping from both mouth and slit. With a weak groan, she pushed herself up on her elbows and flapped her wings slowly, elevating herself into the air once more. She pulled her bodice closed with one hand, and held her dress together with the other.

She gave them the same injured glances---but this time, her lips were swollen and flushed red, her tongue slipped out to lick errant trickles from her lips, and her nipples stood starkly out behind the thin fabric of her dress. “I’ll . . . expect you both in my belfry tonight,” she gasped, “for a repeat performance.” Her wings wagged and dipped, and she teleported into thin air.

What a wicked Waltz.