READY TO SERVE

“Would my strong and powerful Master like to be let down now?” the alraune asked sweetly.

“Y… yes!” Senya gasped, writhing in midair as the green-skinned woman ran her finger along his rigid shaft, her ruby-red lips curving up in a smile. The blossom-covered vines of the nectar-filled pink flower she inhabited were wrapped firmly around his ankles and arms, pulling his limbs taut and leaving him totally exposed.

He was, of course, as naked as ever. His short brown hair was a sticky mess, and his slight, lithe form contorted in needy agony, pale skin slick and dripping with the juices of the alraune flower’s aphrodisiac nectar.

“Are you certain?” Brigitte asked, arching an eyebrow. She rose up within her flower, licking those red lips, her face inches from his own. The fey’s eyes sparkled. “Does he truly wish to lose all this?” she cooed, cupping her breasts. His eyes slid down to them helplessly as her voice turned smokey and seductive. “Perhaps he would like to slip back in here with me… and enjoy a few more hours?”

Senya bit his lip. “I… I…” He stared into her eyes and couldn’t help but try futilely to lean in, even as her finger grazed up his sensitive, nectar-drowned cock. “B-Brigitte,” he whimpered.

“I think he does!” the alraune exclaimed with delight.

“I do!” he whined, trembling. “P-please, Brigitte, take me again—”

“Take you?” Her eyebrows arched. “Make you mine? My horny, helpless, wanton plaything?”

“Yes! M-Make me yours!” He breathed in deeply, and the alraune’s sweet, toxic scent went to his head within moments. Already, he could feel himself drifting. “Please, please, I—I want it—wanna be your h-helpless… helpless… um…”

Brigitte giggled. “My helpless what?”

“… play… thing…” His voice was flat and toneless as he stared deep into her sparkling green eyes.

He felt so foggy. So foggy and deep and helpless and happy and horny as her fingers stroked along his twitching cock. He longed to be hers again, to slip back into that warm, sticky flower and be locked inside Brigitte’s warmth once again… bouncing against her, sliding in and out, trapped for hours in sweet, sticky bliss…

The alraune lowered back down, reached above his head, and popped a soft, juicy pink prisoner fruit right into his open mouth.

He stared at her dumbly, like a pig with an apple. “Mm!”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she whispered, gesturing. Accordingly, the vines gripping Senya yanked him up into the canopy, then whirled back down, dropping him gently on the grass nearby the entrance to the clearing. “You just cannot say no, can you? But… even an alraune must show mercy sometimes, when her prey is so totally helpless. On your way, my sweet, submissive darling. Heavens know you’ve wasted enough time already. ”

Senya lay there, panting on the ground, his cock tingling with need. He reached up and took the fruit from his mouth, but couldn’t help but continue eating, letting the delicious juices dribble down his chin.

He staggered to his feet and started walking away, cheeks burning, unable to help himself. He knew that Brigitte had given him the fruit to make sure he ‘took care of himself’. Like he was an invalid. A walking sex toy with no will of his own.

He heard Brigitte sighing, and wet noises started to emanate from the flower as she started masturbating once again. “Poor, silly Master,” she said with a giggle. “You know, I don’t think you could dominate so much as a hen harpy, could you?”

Senya bit his lip and managed not to answer as he tossed the fruit’s pit behind him. There was no need to mention how the hen harpies had tied him down just last week.

xxxxx

Senya walked along the path, trying to keep himself out of the daze by whittling. He’d recovered his carving knife from the side of the path, and after finding a large branch, had begun to carve. He hadn’t done any proper carpentry in a while, but no harm in the hobby, right?

As long as he didn’t cut himself. He knew from personal experience that anything so much as a sewing needle would inevitably be found by the rose hamadryad if it was left out here, and if he lost another day under the effects of her prickles…

Today, he was carving a newt. He’d gotten quite good at carving them—for some reason, newts were just about the only animal that came into the Ambrosia Ranch that weren’t connected to some sort of fey, so he had lots of examples to model from.

Even carving with a sharp, probably-drugged knife, it was hard to keep from slipping off. It always was after spending too long with Brigitte. Part of him longed to just put down the knife and slip away once more, maybe even stumble back to her and beg for another few hours in her clutches… she would indulge him, too, there was no way she’d resist a second time…

No! He shook away the thought just in time to avoid pricking himself with the point of the blade. Careful, Senya Wetherdean. Careful.

Wonderful as a day drugged out of his mind in Kordesii’s clutches sounded right now, he knew he’d regret it after. He could even see a few of her vines trailing across the trail, no doubt waiting for him to slip up and…

He paused.

Those weren’t rose vines.

They were whorelip.

He stared in confusion. The whorelip bushes lined the path, of course—rosebush-like plants, but with bright crimson flowers that glistened with nectar. Most notably, the flowers resembled nothing so much as plump, ruby-red lips. The scarecrows had warned him to be wary of the whorelip.

But this bush was trailing across the path, and it had grown… vinier. Long, emerald-green tendrils trailed across the path and off it, and twitched occasionally, almost in warning. Almost as though they were lying in wait.

Senya started at the plant uncertainly, then edged to the side, off the path. I’ll just… go around this, then.

He turned and walked through the dense orchard, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched whenever he caught a glimpse of one of those flowers stirring, the lips seeming to undulate like they were actively sucking something. He had no idea what the whorelip could do to him, and he had no intention of finding out.

As it turned out, this plant had grown long indeed. It seemed to have set up new roots, too—the way a blackberry bramble could spread across wide swaths of earth. Senya was perplexed.

It made for a stressful walk, too. The orchard was densely packed already, and very dark thanks to a thick canopy laden with the sunset-pink fruits. It only grew darker the further Senya got from the path. The vines seemed to go on forever, blocking his way.

If this keeps up, he thought nervously, I won’t even be able to see the whorelip anymore. Then he might accidentally step on a vine. Then the vine might snake up and wrap around his ankle. And then…

He shivered, noticing one whorelip blossom stirring slightly as he stepped over it. Careful, now.

Maybe it would be best to head back. He could try the other way around, or go back to Brigitte.

Ooh. Yes, that sounded nice. He nodded dazedly. Brigitte could help with this, whatever was going on here. Definitely. A part of him felt very sure that Brigitte would exactly know what to do for him when he got back there.

Senya was just turning to go when he heard the first whimper.

It was very small. Very faint. Senya frowned, turning and looking around. Then were came another—a gaspy, whispered moan.

Then, a tiny little, “Ohyes.”

Heart pounding, Senya walked towards a nearby dense cluster of fruit trees. There was something in the middle of the little copse—a hollow of some kind.

He circled around it, being very careful to avoid any whorelip. As he walked, part of him knew that hearing a strange moan in the woods was not exactly a good reason to investigate—it was a reason to get the fuck out of there.

But what if someone needed help? What if it was… was… some sort of hapless prisoner who’d stumbled in here? Maybe a fey, even!

Maybe a fey who was luring him into her clutches, who would drug him, or hypnotize him, or just reach inside his brain and tug at the strings he or she didn’t like until they went away and he was just an obedient little bimbo for their pleasure. Oh, fuck, that sounded so hot.

As he circled around to the far side, where a gap in the ring of trees allowed him to see inside, Senya’s speculations encountered a new variable.

The whorelip was absolutely everywhere in this small clearing—which was perhaps ten feet across at most. It trailed over the trees, hung from the branches overhead, blanketed the orchard floor.

And in the center of the clearing lay a young woman who was absolutely entangled in it.

She had long, lovely red hair, and pale rosy skin the color of sweetpeas. Two curved, segmented horns arched from her forehead. A long, barbed tail slithered between her legs, and half-wrapped around her trembling form were two dark, velvety batlike wings.

She gasped and whimpered, biting her lip, as the whorelip planted kisses all over her curvy, naked body. She wasn’t bound, exactly—she was free enough to rub her legs together, she was free enough to writhe and squirm, but she could not get up as far as Senya could tell. Her face was bright red, and her eyes were glazed with arousal.

“Oh, please,” she cried. “Oh, p-please…”

Senya stared in shock. He eyed a pair of trailing vines hanging from branches right over the entrance to the clearing, then looked back at the seemingly helpless demoness. “Um… hello?”

The woman looked up, and her eyes widened to the size of saucers as she saw him. She pushed herself up and started crawling towards him, whimpering with every movement. “Help me!” she cried. “H-Help…” Her arms gave way as the lips kissed over her armpits, and she collapsed, giggling helplessly, and curled into the fetal position.

“Whoa! Um, okay.” Senya put his hands up. “I’ll… I’ll go get someone who can cut you out of… here?”

He blinked. The woman was staring at him again, her lips quivering. She pulled herself forward, moaning. “Help me,” she repeated, staring into his eyes. “I n-need… your cock…” Her voice took on a dreamy purr on the last word.

Senya swallowed. “Oh.”

Really, he should have expected this.

“Please,” she blubbered, “I need it, I n-need it so bad…”

“I don’t…” Senya paused uncertainly as the whorelip again targeted her underarms and sides, and again she curled up, giggling like mad. “I should… should, um…”

“… need to fuck,” the woman cried. “Need to suck! Oh, please, mister…” She batted her eyelashes. “Just… j-just let me kiss it once. Please? Just one kiss. If I c-can kiss it… kiss your b-beautiful cock… oh… I can f-finally… cum…”

Senya was more-or-less a stranger to orgasm denial. Aside from the beembos and a few other outliers, most of the fey here seemed quite happy to make him cum his brains out forever in their grasp. As such, he felt his heart going out to the strange woman.

But not enough to completely lose his mind. “Th-the whorelip,” he stammered, eyes again darting up at those two innocent tendrils. “I can’t… I don’t…”

“They’ll m-move!” the woman whispered. “They’ll move, won’t they? Oh, p-please move…”

And to Senya’s amazement, the vines started to trail away, pulling back into the back of the clearing. Did she… control them? Or did she just understand their workings better than he did?

Well, considering she was clearly some sort of succubus, either one was possible. Senya swallowed.

A kiss, he knew, could be dangerous. One kiss could lead to two. Two could lead to her lips wrapped around the base of his cock, making him cum and cum until he would think he could see a skyfull of stars in midday. And if she was anything like the cupid…

He looked down and realized that he had walked right up to the demon. She was struggling to pull herself into a kneeling position, biting her lip with the effort as the whorelip continued to torment her. Still, she seemed almost intoxicated by his proximity—almost hypnotized by his cock.

“What… are you?” he whispered, heart pounding.

She looked up at him and stuck her lower lip out in a flirty pout. “I’m your needy little slut,” she whimpered. “Please, can I kiss it, Mister? Can I?”

Senya hesitated. He watched numbly as one whorelip flower repeatedly kissed her neck, looking and sounding every bit as luscious and soft as the real thing—if not moreso. Then he looked down at the succubus’s lips, which were just as luscious, currently partially opened as she breathed in his scent.

“Yes,” he said softly.

She gave a sigh of relief, beaming up at him in gratitude. Her expression was so innocent, so utterly grateful, it caught him a little off-guard as she lunged forward, gripped him by the waist, and leaned in close.

Her hot breath wafted over his cock. Though Senya was already larger than normal, thanks to the constant effects of the prisoner fruit, he could have sworn, as he drew in his own shuddering breath, that his engorged cock was… growing.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, as if waiting for permission. He stared at her numbly, his knees quaking.

“Please?” the strange demon woman whimpered. “Please?”

She licked her lips.

“Yes,” Senya said, his voice as small and frail as a robin’s egg. “Gods, y-yes!”

Her face lit up in glee. She leaned in closer. Senya had just a moment to wonder if he’d just made a mistake before she planted a small, dainty kiss on the very head of his cock. It was almost chaste. Everything about it except her rapturous expression.

Senya nearly came right there. He groaned, trembling, his knees quaking—but she held him steady. He felt vines snaking around his arms to hold him up, and he gratefully leaned into their support.

“Another?” the strange woman whispered. “Please, can I… can I have another, mister?”

Senya struggled to resist the temptation to just… just grab her head and force her onto his cock. He couldn’t believe how wonderful, how soft and moist and tender, her lips had felt on his sensitive member. He couldn’t believe how she was teasing him now.

“I… d-don’t even know your name,” he managed.

She blinked, then giggled, batting her eyelashes as the whorelip planted dual kisses on her cheeks. “Tyfaeniallis. But you can call me Tiffany!”

“T-Tiffany…” He nodded frantically. “Yes. More. Please, more.”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

She leaned in and gave him another kiss, this one much longer.. Her eyes closed tightly, and she maned softly, as if savoring the sensation of his throbbing cock against her lips. He cried out as her tongue just barely grazed his glans.

Finally, she pulled out again, blinking wide crimson eyes at him. “Another?” she whispered. “Please?”

Senya bit his lip, overwhelmed by her brazen teasing. He stared deep into her gleaming eyes and felt an almost overpowering need to take charge, to grab this little slut by the back her the head…

But all he could bring himself to do was pet her hair and nod.

She beamed and leaned in again.

And this time, she took him into her mouth. Just the tip, but as her luscious lips slid over the head of his cock, Senya nearly screamed in pleasure.

He was totally leaning back in the vines, now, but they weren’t kissing him—just helping him remain standing. Dimly, he felt a rush of gratitude towards the hellish plants. How kind they were, although really, he wouldn’t exactly mind just falling to his knees before this demonic temptress. It just felt natural.

Tiffany was moaning like a wifwolf in heat as she suckled daintily at his cock, her tongue lapping over his sensitive head, the look in her eyes positively beatific. He stroked her hair, and she moaned louder, eyelashes fluttering. It was like she was feeding off of her own submission. She slurped and sucked desperately at his cock like it was the most important thing in the world to her.

Senya, totally in thrall to his own pleasure at this point, couldn’t easily disagree. He was gasping and moaning, bucking helplessly into her warm, wet mouth as her tongue swirled around him. He’d already been already horny from earlier, and this woman had incredible technique.

“Oh,” he gasped, trembling, “god, god, please, please, please!”

“Mm?” She blinked up at him, and redoubled her attentions. “Mm!”

“Yes!” He was quivering in her grip. “Please, more, more, m-more—oh, p-please, let me—let me cum!”

She blinked up at him. She seemed almost confused. “Mm?”

Oh, gods, she’s—she’s still teasing me. Senya could barely think straight.

“Please let me cum!” he cried. “Please—oh, gods, thank you, I can’t—can’t help—m-myself—” He was breathing heavily, gasping for air. All his attention was centered into holding off his climax. “Please,” his voice broke on the word, “your pet n-needs… oh, oh, fuck, he n-needs to cum, Mistress! C-can’t—”

And as she stared up at him, she abruptly stopped sucking.

The contrast and shock were too much. Senya’s eyes widened in horror even as he came with a disappointed scream. His cock throbbed and spurted a little into her mouth, and she swallowed, still looking… puzzled.

He whimpered as the ruined orgasm drained from him. His mind was reeling, spinning, lost in intoxicating humiliation. “Please, Mistress,” he whimpered, “I… I didn’t mean to…”

She pulled off and started licking his cock, frowning. He gasped and trembled from the attentions. Her tongue was long and sinuous, and her licking was fast and affectionate. But she seemed troubled. “Forgive me, Master,” he heard her mumbling. “Slutty girl was bad. Slutty girl ruined Master’s pleasure.”

He stared into her ashamed eyes as she licked, his cock twitching with every touch of her tongue.

Senya felt like there was something going on here he didn’t fully understand. But his mind was already reacting to the ruined orgasm, telling him he needed to submit more, telling him he had been disciplined. He knew he needed more. The question was, would Mistress give it to him?

Maybe if he was a good boy.

His brain clicked back into place as her licking started to have an effect on his engorged, drugged, brainwashed cock, and he felt himself melting once more into her mouth.

xxxxx

Tiffany wasn’t quite sure what she’d done wrong. The boy had come in her mouth, and yet… he was still here. Something wasn’t right about all this. As she licked, the demoness’ mind raced, searching for her mistake.

Incapacitate herself in whorelip and edge herself into a delicious, submissive haze, check.

Lure the boy to her, check.

Beg him to let her suck him, check.

Tease him until he forced her to suck him dry…

Not check.

She gave his cock a long, adoring lick, savoring the lingering taste of his cum on his member—even though it lacked that delicious seasoning a soul would provide. She stared up at the handsome boy, admiring his slightly glazed hazel eyes and cute little pout, salivating slightly at his naked, alraune-juice-drenched physique. Just looking at his cock made her pussy clench in anticipation.

He hadn’t forced her. Hadn’t taken charge. He’d called her Mistress! He’d begged her! She shuddered at the thought. That was a succubus’s game—a dull game, in the incubus’s opinion. Where was the fun in taking charge? It was so much more delicious to be used, to let the mortals fuck your brains out even as they came their souls away.

She couldn’t prey on someone who refused to Lie Above. And if she couldn’t submit fully and perfectly, the incubus could not claim anything from his orgasms, no matter how glorious his pleasure and hers might be.

She pouted. And that would be no fun at all!

Clearly, she would have to be a bit cleverer. Bait him. So, with a giggle, she wiggled her ass up at him, giving his cock one last lick. “Oh, Master!” she sang. “Slutty girl needs a nice, big cock in her pussy!” She winked. “Would Master like that?”

He stared at her. Tiffany let her lust aura pour into him, willed him to see her for the eager, easy slut she was meant to be. She giggled again, putting a finger to her lips. “Gosh, Master, do you not wanna fuck slutty girl’s brains out? Maybe you don’t wanna fuck at all!”

He was practically drooling. His cock was completely erect, and she grinned mischievously at this. “Your powerful cock knows what he wants,” she purred, licking her lips. “Ooh, Master, please take me with it. Please, pound me into a happy, gooey mess for you. Fuck my brains out!”

“Fuck… brains out…” The brunette boy swallowed. “H-happy, gooey mess… Yes…”

Tiffany shivered as he said the words. She licked her lips and laid it on a little thicker—sometimes a more subby victim needed a little bit of encouragement. “Maybe that’s not what he wants, though,” she teased, giving a bratty grin. “I bet my Master hasn’t got it in him to do that to his little slutty girl!”

Senya stared at her and slowly blinked. He nibbled nervously on his finger. “I… can I…”

Oh! Tiffany suppressed a growl of frustration. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Tiffany reached out with her fiendish connection and gave the whorelip a weak little tug.

Usually, when incubi tried to control other fiends—even fiendish plants, for that matter—it didn’t go so well for them. A reckless incubus could spend centuries in the whorelip’s delightful clutches, until someone found them and decided to take advantage.

But that was exactly what she wanted.

The whorelip wrapped around her tighter, and with a muffled squeak, she found herself jerked around, forced onto her hands and knees, and felt the vines lift her ass impossibly high up into the air. She moaned in delight, realizing the vines were presenting her ass—and her tight, wet pussy—for Master’s use.

Oh, thank you, lovelies, she thought, whimpering. I am a good girl a good girl a good girl…

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the whorelip rear back. Without any other warning, it darted in and started peppering her clit with little wet kisses, and her eyes rolled back up into her head. “Please!” she cried. “Oh, please, M-Master—they’re so… so wicked… please, have mercy on your plaything!”

She couldn’t see his expression, and with the whorelip kissing her every available body part, she could only moan and whimper and pray.

She heard footsteps right behind her.

“Yes…” she heard the man mumble. “Oh…”

Glee filling her heart, Tiffany stepped up the aura, flooding the boy’s mind with mental images that made her even wetter—images of him fucking her pussy, her ass, her mouth, her tits. Images of her being used like a living sex toy. Images of him having a whole harem of eager sluts like her. Images of him on a throne, and her on her knees, all-but-naked, prostrating herself before her sovereign monarch.

His moans and heavy breaths were the only proof she needed to know that it was working.

And then his cock head poked against her slit, and her breath caught in her throat. She barely managed to swallow.

“Take me,” she whimpered. “Make me yours. Make me yours—I’m yours—yours—”

And as she felt that massive cock slide into her, Tiffany let out an overjoyed squeal.

“M-mine,” she heard Master whimper. It was a pathetic whimper, and almost a question, but it was enough. Enough to build her up and up as she started to slide up and down on his cock, as he pounded in and out of her, gripping her shoulders for support.

She mewled and nodded as he fucked her, her tail coiling around his leg, her glowing red eyes shining, her skin sticky with sweat. The lips were kissing all over her sensitive body, and now he was… he was…

“Oh, gods,” she squeaked, “you—you’re g-gonna make me—”

“Yeah,” she heard him gasp, “yeah, you… f-fuck… make you c-come..”

It was enough.

Tiffany slipped over the edge, and she came with a shrill squeal, grinding her ass desperately against the base of Senya’s cock. She tried to form words, to beg, to thank, but no sound came out save moans of ecstasy.

Tiffany was left a sweaty, ragged-haired, whimpering mess by her climax, and she knew more were on the way.

But this cute little orgasm was nothing, she knew, to what she and he would feel when he started to cum.

And Tiffany intended to make sure that her Master would get to feel that wonderful pleasure for the rest of his life.

He was getting close now.

“M-Master,” she whimpered, still breathing heavily in the afterglow as he continued to pound her clenching pussy, “am… am I a good girl?”

His only response was a whimpered, “Good girl. Good girl!”

Facing away from him, Tiffany gave a sly grin. It would be enough.

xxxxx

“Good girl,” Senya whispered, amazed at himself. He had never met such a strange, bewitching creature before, but she was so desperate to submit, it almost might have worried him. That is, were he not barely able to breath right now, much less think.

Her tail was caressing his neck. Her pussy was contracting around his cock. His mind was turning to dribble in her clutches, and… all he wanted to do was pay her back in mind.

“I’m a good girl?” Tiffany whispered again, before groaning as he squeezed her shoulders tightly. He was getting closer and closer.

“Y-yes!” he cried, shaking as his cock started to throb. He was already leaning over to hold on, but now he leaned down and started kissing her shoulders and neck.

He had to reward her. Had to make her know she was a good girl. It felt so bizarrely, wonderfully blissful to be in control of this delicious creature. And if her little gasps and wordless pleas were anything to go by, Tiffany was enjoying it, too.

“I-I’m Master’s good girl?” she cried, rolling her shoulders as he planted kisses along her shoulder blade. “Oh, thank you, Master!”

“Yes!” He hungered for more. He licked her neck, and was rewarded by another little cry. She was sensitive there. He kissed and licked that little spot behind her collarbone without mercy, holding her still for his attentions. “My—mm—good girl. Little—mm!—ob-obedient plaything!”

She was quivering in his grasp, shivering at every kiss, every dirty word. A muffled moan escaped her, and he realized she was biting her lip to try to hold off from cumming—to no avail.

Tiffany’s whole body shook like a sheet in a hurricane as the pleasure claimed her once again. Senya just kept thrusting in and out of her, making her screams crack and break every few seconds with his motions.

Senya’s eyes were tightly shut at this point. His mind was dissolving within the joys of dominance, drugged by the haze of control. He’d never known it could feel so good to just… take over. It felt almost perverse to wield so much sexual power over another creature. But something had awoken in him.

After all it had to be something from within him, right? Where else could this overpowering need to master have come from? Why else would his heart flutter and quicken with every needy little squeak uttered by this lovely demoness beneath him?

Senya was so focused on kissing her—he was practically lying on top of her as she knelt amid the whorelip—he didn’t quite notice how much whorelip was gathering around him.

He didn’t notice the little tickling as tendrils snaked around his arms and legs.

H didn’t notice the strange little titters that seemed to be coming from the bizarre plants as they encircled his throat, bound his wrists, and wrapped in slow spirals around his torso—like serpents coiling around sleeping prey.

But Senya did notice when—just as Tiffany’s mind-melting orgasm was beginning to peter off, and he could feel his own fast approaching—those vines tightened their coils and jerked him out of Tiffany’s dripping pussy and right flat onto his back. None-too-gently.

Senya struggled, but only slightly, as the vines easily pinned him to the forest floor. It was like the alraune all over again. Unfortunately, that connection just made his struggles all the weaker.

The demon girl gave an indignant shriek, springing to her feet… or trying to.

Trapped in the soft grass, Senya watched as the kissing blossoms seemed to redouble their efforts. They surged around their original victim, kissing every sensitive patch of skin. She squeaked and tried in vain to cover herself, her attempt to rise halting abruptly to avoid bearing her most sensitive parts to the ruthless plant. Slowly, he saw that indignant rage in her eyes dim to blissful acceptance.

At last, the demoness sank back into the grass with only a few whining protests, whimpers, and pleas.

He watched her crumple a few feet away from him, still weakly struggling to fend off the merciless whorelip, and swallowed. Wow. Glad it’s not me.

And then the whorelip binding Senya really got to work on him.

Senya had been warned about the whorelip. It wasn’t safe, the scarecrows had said. It was ‘tricky’, according to Bobbin. Even Mommy’s giggles on the manner had seemed forced—like the way an instructor or parent would laugh when a child asked a question with a grim answer. Or the way a person might laugh when asked about an ex-partner they were still a bit in love with.

But he hadn’t known just how good a kisser it truly was.

Those wonderful, soft lips kissed his neck, the small of his back, his shoulder blades, his inner thighs, and he started to shake. They kissed his ankles, his toes, planted big, wet kisses on his sides and arms, and he started to writhe wildly. He was totally helpless to stop them. It was like a dozen plump-lipped goblin maids were lavishing the sloppiest, most mind-melting kisses they could muster upon him.

The hellish flowers descended around his face only a moment later, and he had scarcely time to even moan before their strange giggling and loud smacking and slurping sounds immersed him in a sensual soundtrack of lust. They were kissing his cheek, sucking daintily at his earlobe, peppering his face with their wet little caresses until he was too disoriented to think straight.

Worst of all, that chorus of high-pitched giggling seemed designed specifically to make him feel weak. Helpless. It was so easy to imagine that rather than being captured by a sinister plant creature, he was immersed in the loving embrace of dozens of lush-lipped temptresses who were ever-so-awfully amused at his predicament.

His struggles certainly were getting weaker. And that had to be because of the laughter, right? Otherwise, it would mean he just… wanted this.

As one particularly large whorelip blossom descended down towards his mouth, her—its—lips parted, and a strange, sinuous sort of stamen, almost like a forked tongue covered in gleaming nectar, snaked out. It was almost as though the flower was testing the air.

Senya suddenly realized that he was in the power of something very different from a teasing hen harpy, a seductive alraune, or even a loving, maternal holstaur.

He was in trouble.

And then the whorelip kissing all over his body paused, and Senya saw their own slick tongues slither out.

It started on his soles and toes. He gave a sudden squeak, followed by an involuntary giggle, as the little forked tongues lapped over the space between the front pad of his foot and his little toes. The tongues snaked around, between the toes, along them, then descended to the soles.

He trembled. Something about those slick, nectar-covered tongues was so… sensitizing.

He tried to hold it in, but as the tongues licked along his sole, he started to giggle. As the whorelip tongues started to tickle his ankles, he lost it completely, thrashing in futility within the whorelip’s grip. And once he started, he couldn’t stop.

Worse, the giggling almost seemed to encourage the flowers. The tittering got louder as tongues started to emerge around his chest and belly, then at the small of his back and between his shoulder blades. Then his inner thighs, and he was crying real tears of joy and torment, struggling in vain to close his legs—only to feel his arms and legs spread wider, as if in punishment, as the whorelip started to tickle-lick all over his underarms, along his totally exposed armpits, and his sensitive sides.

And as he opened his mouth to scream, the ‘mother’ whorelip closed the distance and captured him in her—its—passionate kiss. He managed little more than an, “Mmf!”

Senya had never kissed a plant before. But as these lips locked with his, and that long, slender tendril snaked into his mouth and started to trickle in a slow, steady stream of sweetness he couldn’t help but lick up and swallow, he forgot that was what he was doing. His eyes fluttered shut. His mind started to spin.

His giggles and screams were lost. His mind was lost. All he could do was submit to these luscious lips. Submit to the embrace. Submit to the torment.

He imagined that they were Tiffany’s lips, that that gorgeous demoness was kissing him tenderly, rewarding him for being a good boy… or was he rewarding her?

It didn’t matter. Nothing he wanted mattered. Senya was so wonderfully, deliciously helpless, he didn’t even care anymore.

But after a minute or so, he heard heavy breathing by his ear, and he heard a little giggle. “Aw. Poor, poor Master.:”

His eyes fluttered open. Though the mass of twisting vines, he saw the wonderful Tiffany, her whole body framed in whorelip tendrils. Unlike Senya, who was being totally incapacitated, her whoreliped now seemed contented with just teasing its demonic victim. A pair of lips was latched onto each nipple, and what looked like almost a rather lewd collar was wrapped around her neck, kissing her all over. Her eyes were glazed with lust, and that same submissive look was in her eyes, but so was the brattiness that had so tormented him earlier.

“Gosh,” the demoness cooed, “if only you could take charge, huh?” Her hand lightly grazed over his leg, carefully avoiding touching any of the vines, and he trembled. He stared at her with wide eyes. “But I guess,” she said with a giggle, “you just don’t want this enough.”

He moaned into the kiss as she reached up and gave her breast a little squeeze, beaming and batting her eyelashes. Down below, he realized her hand was heading for the one place the whorelip had bizarrely ignored:

His big, throbbing, needy cock.

His heart started to race. His mind slowed down.

“Poor Master doesn’t wanna break out and fuck his slutty girl,” she said sweetly. “But this boy does, I bet!”

Oh, no. He started to thrash, whimpering into the kiss, beyond tortured by the tickling, the kissing, but—Please don’t—

Her finger arrived at his cock head, and she started to very, very daintily tickle it with her small finger.

“Gitchy gitchy goo!” she sang.

He squealed into the kiss. The mother whorelip was practically devouring him, filling him with that strange nectar, consuming him in its sensuous kissing, but this torment… it was too much! Too much for anyone!

“Oh, is there something wrong, Master?” She looked down at him with a demure expression, putting a finger to her plump lips. Her eyebrows arched, even as she danced her finger over his sensitive cock.. “Gosh, do you wanna do something with that pretty cock of yours?”

“Mm! MMM!” He thrashed his head, but the vines only tightened, holding him totally immobilized. He wriggled helplessly as the tickling tongues skittered over his armpits again, merciless, endless.

“Hm!” She beamed and took her hand away. After a moment’s thought, Tiffany reached over and daintily grasped one of the nearby flowers by the bud. Senya sighed at the momentary relief—then realized what the demon was up to.

She held the flower up to her face, her eyes sparkling as if in wonder. He moaned even louder, eyes widening in horror. But she didn’t care. She planted a few tender little kisses on the whorelip—it returned these kisses without any mischief, as if happy to behave now that they had agreed on a common victim—then giggled as its tongue gently tickled her cheek.

Then lowered it down toward his cock, grinning. “Is this what you want?” she cooed. “Just nod or shake your head!”

He couldn’t nod or shake his head. He couldn’t move at all. He could barely even breathe in his muted hysterics. He stared at her with a feeling almost like hate. No, not hate. Feelings were rising in him—heated, powerful, almost alien feelings. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so utterly aroused, so single-mindedly horny.

This woman, this… demon who teased him, who tortured him. He stared at her prodigious curves, her plump red lips, her smug, wicked smile as she slowly brought the tickling flower down towards his crotch.

He wanted to fuck her.

“You know,” she said, raising an eyebrow, “sometimes the whorelip find a mortal to just… play with for a little while. Just a quick bit of fun. They’ll suck him molten a few times, then leave him for other demons to play with when he’s nice and gooey!” She licked her lips.

“But sometimes… ooh, sometimes they find someone they really, really like. A nice, submissive toy who makes fun sounds and deep down always loves it, who can’t help himself.” She leaned in, her voice turning husky, even as her eyes sparkled with challenge. “And when that happens, he’s so much fun, they just hold him forever. Captured. Edged. Always giggling and squealing. It’s super cute.”

He whimpered, her high-pitched, bratty voice tickling his brain every bit as unbearably as the whorelip tickling his toes. Everything was going hazy. He didn’t have enough air. Didn’t have enough mind. Didn’t have enough will. Didn’t have enough time.

She giggled. “I wonder which one you’ll be, Master?”

Senya already knew. He looked into her fiery red eyes and knew that she knew too.

And the second this flower touched his cock, he would want it just as badly as the whorelip did.

“Poor, poor Master,” she said sadly, as the flower hovered right above his cock, tongue snaking out just slightly. “His poor slutty girl was just so naughty and bratty, but I guess he didn’t wanna break out and fuck her.” She smiled fondly down at his cock. “I guess you didn’t wanna cum inside me. Own me. Use me. Make me scream and beg to be forgiven. Am I right?”

He moaned into the kiss. He was panting, staring as best he could at the flower between his legs as it came closer and closer. Please no. Please no please no please please please—

“Do you not wanna fuck me?” Tiffany hissed in his ear. Her tongue tickled, just slightly.

And something snapped in him.

He stared at her with wide eyes, wild eyes, his heart beating fast. She stared back at him, her eyes smoldering, daring him, mocking him.

And he lunged.

The whorelip seemed to fall away like paper, snapping and giving beneath his sudden strength. Tiffany gave a squeal of surprise as he tackled the succubus and pinned her to the ground.

He was breathing heavily. She looked up at him, eyes wide with delight—and a little fear.

“Well?” she whispered. “What are you gonna do?” She licked her lips, as though starving for his touch. Her luscious, plump red lips.

“Suck my dick,” he whispered, trembling. “Please, you—you h-have to…”

“Oh, no.” She giggled, and he felt her hand reach down, her finger stroking along his shaft. “That’s no way to talk to me. I… I thought you were tired of being teased?”

The whorelip flower, still clutched between her fingers, tickled the tip of his cock with its nectar-drenched ‘tongue’.

She smirked as his jaw dropped.

And that was when all semblance of self-control vanished. He grabbed her roughly by the head, rolling onto his back, and pushed her towards his groin. “Now!” he cried, eyes wild. “D-do it now!”

“Ooh, is that what Master wants?” Tiffany purred. But she was staring down with clear rapture at his throbbing, erect member. “Am I supposed to suck that big, pretty cock? Do I get to do that? Please, Master, may I?”

She was teasing him again. Senya couldn’t take it anymore. His breaths were coming in uneven and hoarse; he was barely lucid, stupid with desire—

“Well, Master?” the demoness hissed, grinning ear to ear. She pursed her lips for a chaste kiss and leaned in, sighing softly. “It does look like it would like an eensy-weensy li—MMF!”

And with that, Senya had bucked up and shoved her right down onto his cock.

Her moans of indignation and surprise quickly gave way to erotic moans and whimpers as he fucked her mouth like it belonged to him. Her tongue lavished love upon his sensitive member as her lips smacked all he way down to the base.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, almost as though entranced. But occasionally, she looked up at him with a look of overwhelmed adoration.

And gods, oh, gods, was she talented. His cock was practically crying out in bliss as she ran her mouth over it—practically inhaled it. She sucked it like a kissing angel in love, like it was the yummiest, most succulent sweetmeat she’d ever tasted. The moans she gave were an overwhelming backdrop to a soundtrack of smacking lips, sucking sounds, and lovely little whimpers that made Senya feel… powerful, in a way he’d never felt before.

She made him feel this way. He stared at her in devotion, in delight. He’d known how good submission felt for a while, but this… no one had ever looked at him with that kind of single-minded submissiveness. He’d never known how good it could feel to make someone else feel so good.

It was a heady drug. His mind was spinning and sinking like a snow cloud in a hurricane, fluffy and soft and increasingly scattered in the spiral of her lovely tongue around his cock. She slurped messily, eyes locked on his, and he started to tremble.

His fingers tangled into her lovely red locks as his breath caught. At that moment, he knew there was no way in the entire world that he would ever, ever let her leave him.

He was… he was…

“I’m g-gonna…” He bucked upwards, and Tiffany desperately tried to move to keep sucking, to keep the same bobbing head motion. “G-gonna—”

She pulled off his cock with a lewd pop, licked her lips, and stared up at him with wide, needy eyes. “Thank you so much, Master, for letting me taste you!”

Senya was shell shocked. His cock still throbbed, aching for release. He couldn’t even muster anger, though—not when the little slut was so pathetically grateful.

“Y-yeah,” he grunted, stroking her hair with one shaking hand. His cock felt almost cold without her lips wrapped around it. “J-just… m-more…”

Her eyes lit up in relief. “Ooh, thank you so much,” she cooed, “I’m not sure cute little me could’ve handled you inside me. My poor, tight, wet cunt never could’ve endured it. Thanks for letting me just use my mouth!” She giggled and blew a little kiss.

“Ah…” He stared at her, noticing just how slick she was between her legs. He remembered what it had felt like inside her before—how he’d made her squeal, how her pussy had contracted around him. He could hear the whorelip gently kissing her down below, long, wet slurps that made his heart pound and cock throb. “Welcome?”

“Yes,” the demoness whispered, “Gosh, I mean, I bet I would’ve just been a wet, drooling mess by the end of it. Totally in your power.” She batted her eyelashes.

Senya blinked. His cock tingled. But again, he felt that strange drive.

“And my poor, tight cunt…” she whimpered, as the whorelip seemed to speed up. “Oh, it would milk you to orgasm after orgasm, Master! Perfect, permanent pleasure! But instead you let me suck you like a good little slut.”

Senya shifted slightly, feeling uncertain. “Nn…”

She gave his cock a teasing little lick and beamed down at him. “Master is so thoughtful to put his lover’s needs over his own pleasure!”

“Uh… uh-huh…” Senya’s eyes were glazing over. His mind felt glazed, too—glazed and sweet.

Her tight, drooling cunt…

It felt so incredible before.

She’ll be a total mess at the end of it, just like before.

Orgasm after orgasm, her voice echoed in his head.

Perfect.

Permanent.

Pleasure.

“Pleasure,” he rasped, breathing heavily. “My pleasure.”

She blinked. Batted her eyelashes again. “Master?”

He slowly climbed up, and she gave a little whine of confusion, pulling back. “I want your pussy,” he growled, as the strange headiness filled his foggy mind. “Wanna… come inside it.”

She quailed, biting her lip, tail flicking behind her. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly!”

But her eyes lingered on his erect cock, still slick with her saliva, and she licked her lips.

“You want it,” he purred, gripping her weakly by the shoulder.

She bit her lip. Arousal was building in her. She, too, was breathing heavily.

“Say it,” he commanded.

There was a very short pause.

“I want it, Master,” she whimpered.

“I didn’t hear that.” He reached down towards her cunt, to check the wetness they both knew was there. He felt a strange surge of pride. She was his. He was about to prove it.

And as his hand drew near, she seemed to melt down entirely. “I want it!” she squealed, falling into the grass before him. Her face going bright red, the succubus spread her legs wide, reached down to open up her pussy for him. “I want it I want it want your big cock oh please please please…”

He stared at her pussy, shimmering with juices, its scent heady and overwhelming.

She stared up at him, her eyes heavy lidded, her lips half-parted, whispering something he could not fully hear and did not need to consciously understand.

She was his.

He fell to his knees, grabbed her around the waist, and plunged into her tightness. She screamed, back-arching.

“Mine,” he gasped, thrusting deep into her, as her pussy contracted around him. She was so wet, so silky—

“Yours!” she bleated. “Yours-yours-yours—oh, gods in the dead heavens—”

“My little s-slut,” he cried, his cock throbbing desperately. Everything was a red haze. He needed it, needed her, needed it all…

“Yours!” she screamed. “Your little slut, little needy o-obedient whore—”

“Horny little subby s-s-succubus,” he husked, as his cock started to twitch, as the pleasure built to a crescendo…

“Oh!” She giggled, licking her lips as she looked up at him. There was a strange look in her eyes—an oddly gleeful look. Almost like she was anticipating something. “Actually, I’m an incubus.”

He barely heard her. Because he was cumming, and unbelievably, indescribable bliss was cascading through him like a volcano’s eruption.

He screamed in pure pleasure—pure, perfect, permanent. She was screaming, too, her gasps and sighs totally given way to shrieks of delight as his cock filled her.

He shot off load after load, ecstasy overwhelming his tired, confused mind. It felt… better than anything he”d ever felt. Better than suckling at Mommy’s teat, better than submitting to the Thriae’s jars of honey, better than lying with the puppy sprites or even being caught within Brigitte’s lovely flower. It felt like every orgasm he’d ever had—whether it was in a sleepy fleece sprite’s embrace, at an enchantress’s cooed command, or from the lapping tongues of his five puppy sprites—had been boiled into one soul-melting climax.

Senya now understood why the demons used the phrase “sucked him molten”.

It felt like every single ounce of Senya was going into this orgasm, and the result went beyond pleasure. Senya was pleasure. He was dissolving into pure pleasure. It was all he knew.

And, he realized numbly, it was not stopping.

The incubus was laughing. “O-oh m-my gods, you’re so—you were so—but now—OOOH!”

He moaned with her, nearly collapsing atop his lover. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel anything but her hot, tight cunt. So hot. It felt almost like a second mouth, maintaining its suction even as he went all-but-limp. Milking him.

Tiffany gave a blissful cry, clutching at him. She beamed up at him with a look of triumph, and he saw his eyes reflected in her red pupils—his hazel eyes slowly turning a dark crimson as red flooded them.

Or as all light save that dark crimson glow fled his irises.

“Wh-what—” Senya tried to muster the energy to feel worried. But then another wave of pleasure was rushing through him, and he was reduced to clinging to the laughing Tiffany as she..

… devoured him.

“Yummy,” she cooed in his ear. “Oh, Master, such a sweet soul you have!” She kissed his cheek.

His eyes widened. no. His soul! He had to… had to…

“Have to keep pounding your little slut,” she whispered in his ear with a giggle, wriggling her hips around his shaft. “Ooh, isn’t this fun?”

had to

had to

Senya stared into her eyes, and saw his eyes in hers.

He had to keep pounding his horny little slut. Recovering some of his strength, he thrust deeper into her with a growl. She happily squealed as her legs wrapped around his hips and clutched him within her. Her pussy continued to suck.

Time seemed to grow murky and distant as the fog of merciless pleasure rendered it relative. But eventually, the orgasm began to recede.

It did not end. It would never end. The ecstasy remained at the back of his mind, suckling at his consciousness like a baby to a nipple, like a leech to a wound. But it was more distant. Manageable. Or… it would manage him. He found he didn’t mind.

At the same time, Senya’s body went totally limp in Tiffany’s arms. His mind was mashed and jumbled. He felt… empty. Lost.

The next thing he knew, the incubus was kissing him. “Mm… thank you, Master!” She licked his cheek with a giggle. “So—mm—kind for indulging—mm—your little, horny, slutty girl!”

Senya moaned, feeling absolutely, utterly, totally…

… nothing.

Nothing but pleasure.

xxxxx

Tiffany gave a satisfied sigh as she put her latest victim to sleep in her arms. Once he’d recovered his energy, of course, he would fuck her senseless with that big horse cock of his, and she would have plenty of time to savor his ‘conquest’. She couldn’t wait to enjoy him. But in the meantime, even delicious dommy soulless toys needed their rest. Besides, she wanted time to savor the delicacy she had just claimed.

She stroked his hair and kissed his cheek tenderly. “I am a good girl,” she said softly. “Good girl for Master.”

“Are you, now?”

Tiffany barely had time to blink before a vine wrapped around her leg and jerked her up into the air. She gave a harsh scream as the vine yanked her into the treetops, joined by more, more, more vines, taking her from her plaything, taking her from her prey.

It all happened too fast for her to even think, and Tiffany gave an indignant squeal as she was dropped to the ground, still covered in naughtily exploratory vines, into a small clearing.

She lay there on the orchard floor for a moment, stunned. The vines continued to caress her, and she gave a confused mewl as she looked up.

And locked eyes with a gorgeous, green-skinned alraune woman.

The vines lifted her into the air and carried her over to the curious-looking fey, and Tiffany bit her lip, knowing how much fey tended to hate demons. She squirmed, but the vines held her steady as she was brought to eye level with her captor.

“Well, well, well,” said the alraune softly, licking her lips. “Just as I thought. A delicious little succubus off causing trouble on our lovely ranch.”

Tiffany blinked as she was carried closer, and closer, until the alraune flower’s sweet vanilla smell was almost overpowering.

Without warning, the alraune’s vines dropped her into the nectar-flooded flower. She gave a muffled squeak—which was quickly silenced as the alraune grinned, put her impossibly soft and smooth hands atop Tiffany’s head, and shoved her beneath the surface.

Tiffany couldn’t help but scream, and as she did, the nectar flooded in. She struggled, but weakly, and briefly. She felt calm bliss buzzing through her mind—like a limb had fallen asleep. Her struggles slowed, then melted away entirely.

Soon, the incubus lay silently beneath the peaceful warmth, her head drifting, her every muscle going as limp and relaxed as molten butter. She didn’t even mind that she was technically drowning. It just felt… so… good.

After a few seconds, she was pulled from the surface, now drenched with slick, sugary nectar. She stared at the alraune in dreamy adoration, her pussy tingling like mad.

“Well, well, well,” the alraune whispered. “Not feeling quite so dominant now, are you, my sweet?” She leaned in, kissing Tiffany’s neck, and Tiffany mewled at how sensitive the nectar had rendered her skin. “Poor, delicious thing. You succubi just need a nice, firm hand, don’t you?”

Tiffany felt her hand slipping between Tiffany’s legs.

Tiffany whimpered and blubbered and begged for more. The alraune giggled, giving Tiffany’s neck one last long, wet, possessive kiss.

And over the alraune’s shoulder, the incubus licked her lips.

THE END