Daughter of Wreath, ch.4

Author's Note: Wreath! This one's also on the longer side, if not quite so long as ch.3, but I'm hoping you'll all enjoy it! A bit more world-building from a different angle, and some 'action' too! Somethin' for everyone!

[story] [fu/fu/fu]

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The road back to Minoury had been a challenging one for Pinzak. He’d left Big Petunia with those two layabout humans, letting them continue to sweep the area for signs of other necromancers, with instructions to keep an eye on the elf-witch’s hut once things had settled down. He was faster on his own, despite his rather gnarled and wizened appearance, hitching rides on wagons or ponies along the road until he’d made his way to Graicea’s northern end – in fact, if he’d been any slower, he likely would have encountered Nowa and Vexa traveling along the exact same route he’d taken.

Now, though, he found himself in Minoury, the grand capital of Graicea. A massive, bustling city, the jewel of civilization on Paraven; Minoury was a place where people of all walks of life could visit, trade, and make a life for themselves… provided they followed the rules, of course, and provided they didn’t anger the Order. Unfortunately, it was the Order that Pinzak was here to deal with, and it was quite unlikely they’d be pleased about his inability to apprehend a known (or at least suspected, and subsequently confirmed) necromancer.

The twisted, white-haired goblin made his way through the city’s gates, past the Foreign Flats and around Venbury, a heavily-patrolled square where government offices, taxmen, and merchant lords made their dark deals. He had an even less savory destination – the Abbey of the Holy Vessel. It was a massive cathedral, all gray-brick and harsh, slim spires, utterly undecorated but for the symbol of Rul: a white crescent facing downward, resembling a closed eye, just above which was a white half-disc, rounded on top and flat on the bottom. A rather simple glyph to represent the God of the Living, Pinzak had always thought.

The goblin made his way through the massive front doors, bringing him to two paths: the massive hallways to either side of him, each stretching into an enormous spiral staircase that would take him to the second floor, or down past the rows of seats, opening up into an ampitheater that descended toward a large, open stage where sermons could be given, surrounded by ornate candelabras, brass organs, and an elevated deck for a choir. The whole thing was built rather… strangely. Pinzak was not here to worship, though – in all honesty, while he mostly did believe in Those, he didn’t think about Them all that often. Those were just some big, cruel inevitability, a cycle that you went through whether you wanted to or not. It was Their worshippers that you really had to look out for, and the Order of the Holy Vessel was foremost among those that the goblin was concerned about.

As it stood, he turned right, down the hall, and up the stairs, bringing himself face-to-face with a duo of heavily-armored guards who blocked second floor’s contents: barracks, offices, and the subsequent staircase to the third floor. “I’m not certain you belong here,” one of the guards said, her voice belying the suspicion that her black-plumed helmet concealed.

“He does,” the other guard grunted. “This is the Custodian’s pet rodent. Go on through, Pinzak.” The second guard stepped aside, sweeping his gauntleted hand toward the stairs. “The Custodian’s currently in a meeting, but Inquisitor Hall can take care of whatever filth you have to report.”

“So grateful for ya ‘ospitality,” Pinzak bowed his sloped, white-maned head. He was well-acclimated to the general disgust these Order folks had for him, regardless of whether or not he was one of the living. He didn’t represent what they valued about life – wasn’t chaste, beautiful, or orderly. Pinzak was a reminder, both of life’s ugliness, and of the wretched things the Order had done in its name.

“Fucking goblins…” the first guard grumbled under her breath as Pinzak made his way up the stairs, opening a smaller door of inlaid wood that brought him to the private offices and meeting rooms. While private chambers radiated out from the larger, central ‘war room,’ several higher-ranking officials within the order (and freelancers, like Pinzak) shared hushed discussions and negotiations at smaller tables and chairs. Green carpet lined the floor that Pinzak shuffled his twisted body along, while great tapestries of past Custodians and zealots, along with general tributes to Rul, lined the walls. The goblin’s target was in sight, standing beside the wall nearby the door the Custodian was likely behind – Inquisitor Hall.

Tall and slim, Hall was a human with a build not dissimilar to the elves, though they carried themself with a decorum not befitting the decadence of the high elves or the depravity of the low elves. Their bangs were cut in a straight line, just above dark brows, and the rest of their ginger hair was likewise cut in a straight, severe style just below the jawline, above the shoulders. Gray eyes like a cloudy sky showed untiring resolve despite the dark circles around them, the inquisitor’s skin milky white and lightly dusted with freckles. A narrow jaw, upturned nose, and high cheekbones gave them a noble, if rather delicate appearance, one very much offset by the blackened mail hauberk they wore, accompanied by heavy black greaves and gauntlets. Over the hauberk was a white tabard, emblazoned on which was Rul’s symbol, though it was in black instead of white, with a longsword skewering it downward. Inquisitor Hall was not someone to be taken lightly, and every aspect of their attire and demeanor reinforced that fact.

“Oy, ‘Allie, been a whilesabout,” Pinzak put on his friendliest grimace, reaching out for a handshake that Hall did not accept. “Right. Well then. Think the ol’ Custard-ian’s ready for my li’l visit?”

“Address the Custodian with respect.” Hall said firmly, drawing in a deep breath through their nostrils. “And no.”

“Yeesh, touchy. Y’know it is possible to be somefin’ ovver’n a prig sometimes?” The goblin chided. When the Inquisitor didn’t answer, Pinzak continued, “For real, I knows you Order knobs are all serious bizness and whatnot, but ya not makin’ the idea of bein’ alive seem terribly rewardin’. Or all that lively, nows I fink about it.”

“Perhaps I would be more lively if our organization wasn’t consorting with low-life bounty hunters.” Hall said, their stoic expression not faltering, though an edge of annoyance had managed to work its way into their husky voice.

“Fair enuff, I reckon. No love for ol’ Pinzak in a single brick o’ this place. Never can tell if’n it’s ‘cause I’m a goblin or just a fuck’ead.”

“The Order recognizes all living, sentient races as equal,” Hall recited. “We only take Offense with artificial ‘life,’ and the heretics that enable its construction. You know that.”

“Keep tellin’ yaself that, lovesome,” the goblin sighed, slouching against the opposite side of the same door the Inquisitor shadowed. “Keep it up long enough, ya just might find yaself believin’ it, aye?”

The redhead’s jaw tightened, teeth gritted, but they didn’t respond. Fortunately, they were saved a few moments later by the door opening, a duo of blonde-haired, opulently-dressed elven women spilling forth, one of them surreptitiously sniffing something off of her knuckle as the two of them headed back downstairs. Like a cat sneaking into a pantry, Pinzak slithered through the open door with almost liquid grace, the heavily-armored Inquisitor following behind and clicking the door shut.

The meeting room was not so spacious as the one leading to it, designed more for privacy than comfort, though the rich green carpet extended into it. A stained-glass window depicting a bountiful wheat field decorated the stone back wall, but the other walls were lined with bookshelves and constructed of a dark, warm wood, the room dominated by a large desk of similar material. The trappings on the desk were rather sparse – a few loose papers contained notes that had yet to be officially transcribed into logs, a quill and inkwell, and a well-crafted globe that depicted the world of Wreath, several bright red pins inserted at various specific points.

Behind the desk was the woman Pinzak had come to see – the Custodian. Whatever her name had been before she’d become the Custodian was lost now, taken from her when she gained the position, which ranked lower than only the High Inquisitor. The Custodian served as the Order’s mouth and hand, if not necessarily its head, and the woman who bore the title had, time and again, proven herself very much worthy of it. Like Hall, she was human, though far shorter, and presumably, much older – while her olive skin showed barely any wrinkles beyond those at the corners of her lips and eyes, her hair was every bit as white as Pinzak’s, worn in an elaborate coif of gem-inlaid braids around her head. She wore a gown of deep violet, trimmed with snowy white, and golden rings lined each of her ears.

“Custodian.” Hall said, holding a clenched fist straight forward in salute, then dropping it.

“Eh, your Holy Scandalousness,” Pinzak sneered, lazily replicating the salute with a half-hearted thrust of his lanky green arm.

“Pinzak.” The Custodian looked up from jotting down a few final notes, fixing dark, almond-shaped eyes on the goblin. “I’ve received no word of an Offender being taken in.”

“Ah, yeh, tha’s right,” the goblin said sheepishly, his beady red eyes not making contact with hers.

“Your task is quite straightforward, I think. So if you’ve come to speak to me without providing the Abbey with an Offender….” The threat in the Custodian’s voice required no further words to be made clear, and Pinzak looked ever more uncomfortable, like a dog being scolded for relieving himself on the rug.

“Right, so, about that… we did find the witch.”

“The Birch Witch?”

“Bit o’ a bitch, yeh.”

“Birch, simpleton.”

“Plenty o’ that, too.”

“Describe her.”

“Elf. Tall, skinny. You know how they is, the sword-ears. Dark ‘air. Grumpy as badger-piss.”

“And did she confess to her Offenses?”

“Nah, she weren’t all too co-op-rah-tive. Did get ‘er all nice n’ locked up like, though!” Pinzak’s attempt to honey his failure only looked to be annoying the Custodian, whose throaty voice grew ever more abrasive with each exchange of words.

“Yet I do not see her here.”

“Right. So that’s the itch-in-the-cock, ahh... she weren’t alone. Some girl came an’ saved her.”

The Custodian slowly arched a brow. “A girl?”

“A girl, yeh.”

“You were given charge of six graicean thugs and a Grazzoth, and you were stopped by a… girl?”

“So, I only ‘ad two thugs by that time. ‘Ad to trade a few of ‘em to get an oblivion priestess off mah back.”

The Inquisitor interjected. “I have heard reports of a Kou cult to the south, Custodian.”

“Right you are,” Pinzak continued, “second-offs, weren’t no ordinary girl, see. Set Petunia after her, and a moment later she’s changin’, gets all big an’ big-like, green and clawsy, goes a couple rounds with Petunia. And of course, anything that can fight Petunia’s gonna scare off the ‘umans, so everyfing just sorta fell apart.” Obviously, the Custodian didn’t need to know that it was Pinzak himself who’d led the retreat the instant things didn’t look advantageous, not when he had someone else he could blame.

“Green and… clawsy. Like a Grazzoth?” The Custodian inquired.

“Tha’s right! Like she was borrowin’ Petunia’s strength! Real weird shit, that’s what I say! Some kinda freak!”

The Custodian ran her tongue across the front of her teeth, silent for a moment. While Pinzak was obviously still a wretched worm unworthy of respect or mercy, a girl that transforms wasn’t the kind of lie he’d make up – it’d be something far grander, likely with a minimum of one internal logical fallacy. “Inquisitor, does this sound like anything you’ve heard of, before?”

“It does not, Custodian.” Hall answered.

“And would you know this girl if you saw her again, Pinzak?”

“Ahh… yeh. ‘Course I would. Like a steel trap, this old noggin o’ mine.”

The Custodian drew a deep, slow breath, considering her options. The Birch Witch was still a primary target, but if this girl could do what the goblin described, she could be an even greater priority. Anyone who intervened with the apprehension of Offenders – much less an abomination like the one Pinzak had described – was an enemy, and needed to be dealt with. “Inquisitor, take a brace of soldiers loyal to the Order under your command. Do not return without either the witch, or the heretic who rescued her. Consider them to have already confessed to their crimes, and deal with them accordingly. And…” she was loath to give her final instruction, but it made sense. “Bring Pinzak with you.”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“I just couldn’t ever get into the high-flying acts. I wanted to! I kept trying! But the horns always ended up getting in the way, and… yeah, too heavy.” Gelyn, the shokari circus performer who’s now joined our initially one-woman mission, has taken some time to really get to know, even with a few days on the road to do so. Beyond her optimism and fixation on heroics, her past is something of a mystery, obscured in the pizzazz of her time with the Picklehammer Brigade. Despite being shokari, she seems to have as little cultural connection to the subterranean giantfolk as Vexa or I do.

“What’s the strangest place you’ve performed in?” I ask as the three of us walk, still following the road ever-eastward toward the goblin city-state of Tague. The landscape is still grassy, though some short, rocky hills have been starting to creep up around us, and a lot more wildflowers along the side of the road – mostly in shades of bright blue, deep red, and pale purple. “I’m sure you’ve seen some crazy places, right? Did you ever go to the bluffs?”

“Not the bluffs, no – Toche said there was no real money in it, not enough to be worth the trip,” Gelyn shrugs. “We learned that the hard way when we tried to do a show down south.”

“South?” Vexa speaks up, sounding shocked. “You played for the barbarians?”

“A couple times! We did shows in Gray Lagoon, Eel Marsh, and even the Stag Towers, but it really didn’t go well,” Gelyn lets out a short chuckle. “Turns out they have more of a storytelling culture, didn’t really ‘get’ the idea of a performance without a narrative.”

“Hm. I admit, I didn’t expect a lack of artistic synergy to be the problem you’d had,” the Birch Witch lets out a dry little giggle of her own. “Glad to see they left you in one piece, though.”

“Most of us, anyway,” the shokari clarifies ominously.

“Ooh, hey–!” I whistle for silence, closing my eyes. There’s a rushing sound, almost silent, but many months in the wilderness has sharpened my senses to even minor irregularities. “Do you hear that?”

My two companions go quiet. While Gelyn doesn’t seem to be noticing anything, Vexa nods along a moment later. “Water. Not far away. A river or stream, maybe even a waterfall.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I smile.

“That the lower class is framed as a parasite upon the wealthy, while it’s really the rich nobles and merchants that drain the lifeblood of the common people, offering only poverty and violence in return?” the elf blinks.

“Oh, I was gonna say ‘I’m hungry,’ is that it?” Gelyn says hopefully.

“Wow, two really different answers,” I hesitate, then shake my head. “We should find that water and clean up! It’s been several days now since we got to take a real bath, and I know I could definitely use it.”

“Can we still eat?” the shokari frowns.

“Don’t see why not. There may even be some fish or big game by the water!”

It takes close to half an hour before we find the source of water, not far north of the road. It is a waterfall, if a rather short one, that seems to represent the southernmost tip of a river that bends down, then curves back up to the northeast to follow the descending hills. Even more exciting is that behind the waterfall appears to be a grotto! Despite it still being midday, we decide to make the most of things and make camp here. While Gelyn sets up our tents and a campfire, I set traps for game likely to wander close, and Vexabeth scratches some glyphs into a glass bottle, whispering a chant into it before tossing it into the river – and some moments later, around a dozen fatty, pink-scaled fish are tossed up onto shore, flopping around in place as their demise approaches.

“How’d you manage that, Vexa?” I ask.

“Every part of the natural world is infested with spirits,” the witch explains, casually tossing the fish onto a clean, flat rock. “The harmony they have with the land can easily become disharmony, if you know how to persuade them.”

“...Do I want to understand the process any better than that?”

“Probably not, bug.”

I drop the subject and set about cooking. This area hasn’t provided much in the way of fruits and vegetables that actually taste good, so I make use of some of our old thornpeppers, crushed beeknuts, and a bit of vinegar and salt from my mess kit, creating what I hope to be a flavorful, acidic ‘sauce’ for the fish. The fish itself (some sort of petalfin as far as I can tell, though the color’s off) is promptly scaled, (most of) the bones removed, skewered, and roasted over an open fire. The fatty nature gives it a strongly fishy taste, but one offset by the charred skin and zesty mixture I rub it down with. Overall, the meal goes well, though Vexabeth does insist on adding more salt to hers. As midday deepens into an uncharacteristically warm evening, the three of us – clown, witch, and wanderer – lounge about our bedrolls, enjoying our full bellies and the sounds of the crashing water.

“Ah, what I wouldn’t give for some fucking wine right now,” Vexa sighs.

“Mmh, yeah,” I slouch back, slipping out of my poncho and tossing it over my pillow. “That’d be nice. Little drink and a swim.”

“Oh, uhhh. Hmm.” Gelyn thinks for a moment, twirling a finger around the purple-and-yellow ribbons festooning her horns. “I have goblin-milk?”

Vexa sits up. “You have what?”

“Goblin-milk? Euh, I mean, that’s what Braull used to call it. Ivol always said actual goblin milk was blue, though.” She gets up onto her knees, grabbing her backpack and starting to rustle through it, fishing around for her strange prize. After a few moments, she withdraws a thick glass bottle filled with off-white liquid, slightly smaller than a bottle of wine would be. “Goblin-milk! It’s good!”

“I… don’t know if I want to drink anything called goblin-milk, honestly,” I say, uneasily.

“I will if it gets me fucked up.” Vexa’s priorities are set shamelessly in order. “Provided I don’t fuckin’ garf on the first sip.”

“Garf?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Is that like, being sick?”

“Elven word,” she explains. “Something like being sick. Worse though.”

“Do I want you to elaborate?”

“Not a chance.”

Gelyn extends one long, muscular arm toward Vexabeth, offering the bottle. “I’m willing to share! Be careful, though. It’s sort of… uh, intense! Takes a while to hit you, too!”

“Bigstuff, I’m an elf, we know how to handle our shi–” As she spoke, the necromancer popped the cork on the bottle, and the smell immediately caused her to reel away and let out a few hacking coughs. “What the fuck is that, I once drank fermented bogge-sweat and it didn’t smell that sour.”

Gelyn shrugged sheepishly. “Goblin-milk?”

“Well… here goes, I guess. Kalssenda.” Vexa swirls the bottle, then takes a drink – not even a sip, but a drink, her face immediately contorting in disgust, lips tightening and nose scrunching up. She visibly struggles to swallow, but ultimately manages, then lets out a labored breath. “That… is wild. You circus folk don’t fuck around.”

“Nope, not really!” Gelyn says cheerfully, taking the bottle back and stealing a small swig of it, wincing, then handing it over to me. “You want some, Nowa?”

I let out an awkward chuckle, but then sit up, cross-legged, on my bedroll. “I mean, your reactions are making it seem so tempting…” After a deep, uneasy breath, I reach out and take the bottle, barely touching it to my lips… and yeah, there was no hollowness to Vexa’s theatrics. This stuff is vile, it’s incredibly pungeant and bitter, overwhelmingly sour. Oddly, though, the texture is lovely, like taking a sip of cool whipping cream. “Guh, ghackk….”

In an instant, I feel a warm, soothing burn spread throughout my muscles and bones, wrapping around my brain, even as my stomach lurches and protests. Did Gelyn say this takes a while to hit you? I feel it immediately.

“Is she gonna garf?” I hear Vexa say as my senses return to me, the initial wave of disgust calming down.

“Nah, nah, I think I’m good. Phew. That is some… crazy stuff.” The warmth is rising up into a burning heat now, and I can feel my back growing damp with sweat. “Is anyone else hot? Like really hot?”

“Heh, it’s hitting the human hard already,” Vexa chuckles.

“Well, there’s the waterfall!” Gelyn suggests, “I mean, that’s why we set camp early, right? Let’s go swim!”

“Awwwesome idea,” I blink a few times, feeling that heat and tingle radiate through me, snaking along my every nerve. Definitely gonna stick to just one sip of that stuff, at least for now. I stand uneasily, trying to hide my horror as Vexa takes another swig of the goblin-milk, and start squirming out of my clothes, leaving a trail of them behind me as I stumble toward the waterfall.

When I’m finally beneath it, I feel body and mind alike cleansed by the blast of cool water from above, causing me to squeal out, the forceful cold of the torrent shocking a bit of sobriety into me, though I can still feel that burning tingle crawling along my skin, a restlessness creeping into my thoughts and loins alike. After a moment of just being crushed by the waterfall, I move through it, into the grotto, glittering geodes adorning the wet, unworked stone walls of the cave, filling the place with a mystifying glimmer that dances along the still water of its large, shallow pool.

I sink into the water and drift until I hit the mossy stone edge of the pool’s farthest side, clinging to it and letting the water swirl and lick around my naked body. As I turn my gaze back to the grotto’s entrance, I see my two new companions passing through it, each of them now just as naked as I am. Vexa’s body, of course, I’ve seen before, and she hasn’t lost a bit of her languid, willowy beauty, her slender curves and mischievous, steel-fanged grin rekindling memories of the night she stroked both of us off.

Gelyn’s naked form, though, is quite new to me, and not the least bit disappointing. Her smooth, purplish-gray skin gleams beautifully when wet, drawing attention to each glowing curve of her flawless muscles. Beyond that, though, I now get to admire the full swells of her breasts, which are more supple and robust than I would expect from a woman with her amount of muscle. Her crest of white hair is now sleek and lank when wet, a few strands of it hanging loose in front of her bright-eyed gaze.

Though I know it should not, my eyes wander down Gelyn’s gorgeously powerful belly, to her waist, and lower, stifling a gasp when I spot the base of her flaccid girldick, extending several inches down before vanishing beneath the water line. As I secretly expected, it’s so big I can’t even see the whole thing… and now I just want to see it more.

“Oy, bug!” Vexa calls out as she and Gelyn drift closer – holding in one hand, I now spot, the bottle of goblin-milk. “What’s the point in getting everyone naked if you’re gonna fuck all the way off over to there? Makin’ us chase you?”

It hadn’t really occurred to me that I was ‘getting’ anyone naked, rather than just following my instincts. Now that we’re here, though, I do find myself in quite the exciting situation. As I drift through the pool, closer to Gelyn and Vexa, I note that both my companions are far bigger (or at least taller) than I am, leaving me feeling like a wayward zura next to the two of them. If Vexa’s gonna flirt, though, I’m happy to flirt back. “Hey, who doesn’t want two beautiful women pursuing them?”

To my surprise, Gelyn seems shocked, her large, silvery eyes going wide, though much of her expression is unreadable as her entertainer’s makeup begins to wash off, streaming down her cheeks and neck. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Oh, fuck, don’t tell me you weren’t absolutely crushing clown ass in the circus,” Vexa says, tactless as she’s ever been. “Bet you had pretty young things asking you to pick them up, asking to use your thighs as a pillow, trying to get you to open various tightly-sealed containers….”

“Well, yeah, sure, all of that happened.”

“And you didn’t pipe them down?”

“And I didn’t what?” If possible, Gelyn’s eyes go wider.

Vexa pinches the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. “Okay, all those things? Every single person who did that, wanted you to fuck them braindead.”

The shokari goes pale, swallowing hard – though, as untoward thoughts find their way into her mind, her exposed body betrays a reaction beyond simple nervousness. Her deep gray nipples begin to harden as her eyes grew distant, imagining ‘what could have been’ countless times over. “Umm… I guess maybe….”

“And hey, by the way – you big, gray can of soup, you – I don’t have any tightly-sealed containers with me, but I could definitely use a good… ‘lift,’ if you’re hearin’ me.” The elf draws closer, running her tongue lewdly over her steel fang and stroking her fingertips down Gelyn’s flawlessly muscled shoulder and arm.

“O-oh, okay – I mean, you’re tall, but it doesn’t look like you weigh all that much, so–”

“Sast forget you, girl!” Vexa hisses. “Get that cock out so I can suck it, is that clear enough to get through your bony skull?”

“Y-yes ma’am!” A flush comes over Gelyn’s face, her cheeks shifting from purplish-gray to a reddish-purple. It’s clear that she’s not really acclimated to this kind of… attention, but it’s also clear that she’s responding quite well to it. Even without her needing to move to the edge of the water, I see the tip of her girldick bob up from past the waterline, close to a foot from her waist, prompting me to bite my own fist to stop from squealing out.

I wade closer through the grotto, watching as Vexa reaches out to firmly grab Gelyn’s cock, using it to guide her to the water’s edge and up onto the smooth stone, spreading her legs and getting a better look at the beast before her – and… yeah. It’s everything I’d hoped it would be, and the witch seems to feel the same way, visibly blinking in a cross between confusion and elation. “Fuck, big-stuff, what do you even do with this thing if you’re not cramming it into randy lass who looks at you funny? No way this is just for pissing with.”

“I mean, I… was always ashamed of it,” Gelyn says nervously, shyly hovering one hand over her simply massive cock. “I am joteir. Among my people, having only one is seen as… weak. It’s part of why my family sent me away.”

I start to swim faster, desperate to say what needs to be said, while certain that Vexa will instead opt to say what the two of us are thinking. Within instants, she does. “Wait. You’re telling me most shokari have two of these fuckin’ monsters?” As Gelyn frowns, my swift swim turns into a full-on breaststroke. The elf, undeterred, continues. “Remind me to take a vacation to Khxendrol as soon as possible, mama has some lifelong wishes she needs fulfilled.”

Out of breath, I arrive at Gelyn’s other side, laying one hand on her thigh – then the other hand, because it’s just… unf. “That… hahh… was cruel– pheww… I can see why you… shit, gimme a sec… um, I can see why you found a new family. And now you have us! And we appreciate you exactly as you are, Gelyn.”

“With our mouths.” Vexa adds.

“If you want us to.” I intervene.

“And other parts.” The witch winks, placing her hand between her and I so that I can’t see her mouth her next words, though I can hear her whisper them: “Like my ass.”

I glance over at Vexa, whispering “Is she ready for that?”

She furrows her dark brows. “I am.”

“Sure, but not everything’s about you.”

“It can be.”

Looking more nervous than ever, the half-drunk Gelyn chews at her lower lip. “Look, maybe I–”

I may not know much, but I like to think I have good intuition – I know when a window’s about to close. Before the strongwoman can finish her sentence, I lean down and tenderly stroke my tongue along the side of her huge, stiff cock, all the way from the base to the tip, my fingers still lovingly clutching to her powerful thigh. She immediately lets out a helpless whimper, and I seal my lips around the side of her shaft, moaning around it. This gorgeous young woman’s never had her cock sucked; I’m not gonna let my and Vexa’s chatter distract her with what’s about to be the best moment of her life. Everyone’s first blowjob should be from two girls at once, and Gelyn’s about to live that dream.

While Vexa certainly isn’t one to follow anyone’s lead, she certainly takes my cue to engage, and likewise leans in to stroke her tongue up the opposite side of Gelyn’s rod. Long, slim fingers curl around the base of the shokari’s shaft, less stroking it then holding it firmly still, allowing the elf’s tongue and lips to do most of the work, sliding wetly back and forth along that raging column of flesh. “Mmmhh… nnn…” Vexa coos contentedly, her free hand quickly reaching behind herself, slipping one, then a second finger into her own backside. While I could have predicted that the witch wouldn’t let this moment pass without pleasuring herself, I am impressed by her lack of hesitation.

“G-girls, this is… t-this is… hnnn…” Gelyn grits her teeth, planting both hands on the stone behind her, spreading her legs a little wider so that we can get fully between them. For someone who seemed so uncertain a moment ago, it’s very sexy to see her now opening up like a flower to us, the waves of unfamiliar delight laying claim to her senses, showing her what she’s been missing for so long in perhaps its purest form. She arches her back, squeezes her eyes shut a moment, though I can spy one eyelash fluttering involuntarily – she’s already overwhelmed, and I can only wonder how long it will take for this thick bludgeon of a girlcock to erupt over the two of us.

I scoot a little closer, lifting one hand from Gelyn’s thigh, to her breast, groping it firmly and feeling how smooth and subtly soft her skin is, rolling my thumb across one stiffened nipple. I pull upward and wrap my lips around the tip of her cock now, feeling a distinct strain in my jaw as I manage to get my entire mouth around it, gradually bobbing down as deeply as I’m able – but hitting a physical limit quite quickly. She’s just too big, so without some practice, it looks like I’ll only manage to make it about a third of the way down… but fortunately I have Vexabeth helping me out. With her hand still massaging tightly around the base of Gelyn’s rod, the elf puts her tongue to work along the strongwoman’s smooth balls, firmly lapping at them before taking one smooth ovoid into her mouth, careful not to prick it with her wicked iron fang.

“Mmphh… glllggck…” I groan as the shokari’s dick hits the back of my throat, resisting the urge to gag and bobbing back up, then down again, going as deeply as I can each time. It seems like a good time to multitask, though, so I bring my remaining hand from Gelyn’s thigh, to Vexa’s backside, stuffing two fingers into the necromancer’s asshole alongside her own, coaxing a husky whine out of her. All of this has gotten me insanely horny, my own cock throbbing hard, wobbling back and forth over the grotto’s water line, and I start to wonder if I can leverage this situation into putting it to good use….

“Ahhn… I… I t-think something’s about to…!” Gelyn clenches her teeth, but her eyes are now open, looking down at the two of us, and it gives me a great idea – I pull up and off of her cock, then tilt down, bumping my nose against Vexa to get her to look up. Once she does, I lean in to kiss her, a thirsty, open-mouthed affair that lets both our tongues slither back and forth along the throbbing crown of the clown-giant’s cock, stimulating her while also putting on a show. The elf immediately figures out what I’m trying to do and leans into the whole thing, her hand starting to swiftly stroke up and down along the base of Gelyn’s dick while our tongues wrestle around its tip.

“Mmmlhmm…” we moan against each other, eyes closed and mouths open, my fingers pushing deeper into Vexa’s ass, now stuffed with four fingers in total. My other hand firmly pinches Gelyn’s nipple, just enough to draw a gasp and whimper from her, and a moment later, I get what I’m after – pump after pump of hot, creamy spunk blasts out of her enormous cock, long overdue, splattering across both our tongues, into our open mouths, and across both our faces, creating an absolute mess of things in the span of about seven incredible spurts of shokari cum.

“Mmphh… mmnn, fuckk…” Vexa lets out a husky groan as she swaps Gelyn’s cum back and forth with me, tongue swirling around mine before trailing back down the shokari’s shaft, whimpering as she and I continue to work at her needy backdoor with our fingers. Looking up at Gelyn, her face flushed with a pale pink, the elf pants, “hey, bigstuff, I dunno if you’ve got enough oil in the lantern to pummel my ass right now, but I’ll gladly let you watch bug here do it.”

“I… uh, I mean–” Still seeing stars after a massive orgasm, Gelyn doesn’t seem able entirely able to think straight – but I’m not waiting for an answer. My cock is aching, and while I’d love to get ‘pummeled’ by Gelyn just as badly as Vexa does, I’m just as happy to be on the giving end of a hard, throbbing dick. I’m still definitely under the effects of the goblin-milk, and from the looks of things, so are my two companions.

I don’t waste any time, sliding my fingers free from the elf’s rear and crawling up onto the grotto’s shore, planting a long, breath-stealing kiss on Gelyn’s panting lips as I do. Behind me, Vexa likewise tries to climb up onto the mossy rocks, slips and falls into the water, but manages to make the trip successfully on the second try. She’s just as hard as I am (or close, anyway) and looks to be just as flustered, crawling toward me and grabbing me by the hips, bringing her greedy mouth to one of my small, perky breasts and suckling at my nipple.

“Unnh… y-yeah…” I gasp, running my fingers through Vexa’s silky black tresses, sucking at Gelyn’s lower lip before licking up the side of the shokari’s face. While my mind had been fairly empty regarding what position I planned to tackle Vexa in, the witch’s mind seemed to be very much made up – I feel her hands forcing me down onto my back, and I’ll say, she’s definitely stronger than she looks, though the extra foot of height may have something to do with that. Once I’m laying down on the rocks, the elf crawls up onto my lap, pinning her needy back entrance on top of my throbbing shaft and swiftly sinking down on it, already warmed up from the deep fingering she’d been receiving. Now, while my dick may look shrimpy next to Gelyn’s, I’ve always been pretty proud of its size, especially for how tiny I am, and as I watch it slowly stretch open Vexa’s asshole around it, I really don’t think I have anything to be concerned about. “Oh fuck, you’re tighter than I imagined…” I hiss, one hand clawing at the moss beside me, the other tightly grasping Gelyn’s powerful shoulder.

“Oh, what’s that supposed to mean, eh?” Vexa sneers, though it’s clear she’s only playing – her expression quickly twists into one of relieved pleasure, like a persistent itch is finally being scratched, as she takes every single inch of my dick up into the warm, narrow tunnel of her ass. “Ffhh, ugh!”

While Gelyn still seems a little dazed, the strongwoman is finally coming back to her senses. While she remains almost completely erect, though, she rolls over onto her side, watching the two of us with an expression more of curiosity than longing – like she’s fascinated, like she’s learning. Which, if she’s never had sex before, I suppose she technically is. She brings one hand to her member, gently massaging it but not really stroking, showing no inclination to join, but merely to observe. To study. And… yeah, I can deal with that. I’ve got enough going on with Vexa bouncing up on top of me, after all!

And bounce she does, quite wildly, her willowy frame rocking up and down furiously in my lap, her slim girldick twirling in place as she rides me with her needy asshole. One hand reaches down to pin my shoulder, while the other reaches up, folding behind her head and stretching out her already long, lean figure, her nearly-flat tits jiggling with each downward slam of her hips against my pelvis, taking me as hard and fast up her ass as she can manage. I’ve been with some real wildcats in the past, bored bluffside girls with a true passion for bottoming, but Vexabeth has a kind of focus that really can’t be beaten, a fervor that comes with the certainty of her (presumably) advanced age.

“Nngh! Nhh! Hah! Ghhh… I should’ve fucked you earlier, been letting – khah! – good dick go to waste–!” Vexa snarls between grunts and moans, riding me as hard and as fast as she can, and… honestly, at this point, I’m just along for the ride. She knows what she’s doing, so I’m content to provide her the tools she needs to achieve her goals. On top of that, damn, she feels outstanding, and I’m already so horny from sucking Gelyn’s cock off that I’m just enjoying myself. She’s slick, warm, tight, her asshole seeming to massage me on its journey back and forth along my shaft, and I wonder how long it’ll be before I bust just like Gelyn did. Better hold on tight – something gives me the feeling that the necromancer won’t be happy if I cum before she does.

“Hnnnh… fuck…” I whimper, holding gently to one of Gelyn’s horns for support, leaning my forehead against the shokari girl’s and breathing heaving, my other hand moving to Vexa’s slim member – only to be slapped away.

“None of that, bug,” the elf groans, “I wanna enjoy this just as it is… don’t want any distractions from the feeling of this nice hot cock inside my ass, so don’t go – uuhhnn – g-getting any… f-fucking ideas….”

“Y-yes ma’am,” I swallow hard, clenching my teeth – it’s getting harder and harder not to cum, Vexa’s going faster and faster now, her slim body glowing with sweat as she reaches the point of exhaustion, her downward slams into my lap growing erratic and arrhythmic.

Finally, her back arches, and the elf’s feral yellow eyes turn toward the grotto ceiling, letting out a shriek of pleasure not entirely unlike an eagle’s cry. Her slim member unloads several long, ropey strands of her sticky seed across me, largely hitting me straight in the face or into my open mouth, forcing me to splutter and cough – but at least I can finally stop resisting my urge to erupt. Seconds after Vexa glazes me, I unload inside of her, shooting countless bolts of creamy cum straight up into her ass, making the witch shudder and whine with pleasure as I flood her with my warmth.

“Unnh… ouuhhh… shit, I needed that,” Vexa sighs, slumping in my lap, my cock still throbbing inside of her as it begins to come down from its recent discharge. “Been so long since I got some dick I forgot how much I liked it.”

“Happy to… p-provide,” I say, still a little lightheaded, now flopping completely backwards onto the ground. While it isn’t like Vexa and I haven’t already had a sort of little tryst before, it definitely feels like we’ve crossed some new boundaries… boundaries I wouldn’t mind crossing again.

Turning her gaze to Gelyn, Vexa arches a slim black brow. “You learn anything, bigstuff?”

“Yeah,” the shokari says sheepishly. “Uhm, one, that I think I really like traveling with your guys… and two, well…” she swallows, a blush creeping back over her face as she nods toward the two of us. “I wanna do that.”