Chapter 3 Stellar Indecision

Next stop? The stars

Ruun didn't return to the dorms. I guess Sea's Matriarch was placated by her winnings from the troll race. Don't worry--Ruun shows up again later.

My life isn't all orgies, though I do enjoy a good feast.

I've impressed enough clients that Rat holds two offers in his hot little hands. He doesn't care which I take--he earns either way as the broker.

But I get to vet each client first. Try before I buy.

I've been primped, pampered and transformed. My ink is hidden, my hardware removed (but safely locked away). Rat's only disappointment? My human toes. I refused the illusion of hooves. I'm proud of my small amount of humanity dominating in weird ways. Not many demons have real breasts.

I stare at the mirror, flabbergasted by the classy, elegant creature staring back. I didn't know long hair could look that good. Diamond dangle earrings, a matching tennis bracelet, and three rings sparkle under the light. I know they're real.

Gods, I want to fuck her.

'What is expected of me tonight, hun?' Always good to know who I'll play in tonight's fantasy.

'You're the girlfriend of a powerful merchant. His Matriarch's visiting to negotiate marriage contracts. You're posing as his fiance for the night.'

'Full demon?'

'Top of your range, dewdrop. You'll be singing for your gods tonight.'

Anticipation makes me shiver. I rarely take demon lovers--unless they're imps. Recently, I've realised I have a fetish for smaller partners. I like control.

'Is it a Matriarch challenge or is he dominant?'

Rat laughs, shrugging. 'No idea. It's your culture. You figure it out.' Then comes his signature slap on my hout couture gowned arse. 'He'll be here soon. Parlour.'

I wait, barely breathing, terrified I'll break something expensive. The door opens.

And in he walks.

He's glorious. So damned pretty it hurts. Pure muscle, over seven feet tall, mirror-polished horns. We'll make a handsome couple.

I stand, suddenly shy.

He holds his tuxedo'd elbow with suave polish. 'Please, Pet. Where are my manners?' He tucks my hand into his arm. 'Mother doesn't like waiting.'

I take his cues, submissive in my wing lore, pulled in close. His expression brightens with approval as he leads us to a horse drawn carriage.

(Oh my gods. I'm a fucking princess tonight!)

We stop ten blocks away, the ritziest part of town. I wait for him to help me down, mindful to not rip my dress. Rat would kill me.

His deep voice murmurs in my ear as we enter a glamorous restaurant. 'I'm Dray. We've dated two months. Head over heels in love, blessed with all four connections. Engaged two days ago. Mother's old school. Don't speak unless addressed. Follow her lead.'

That's the full job spec.

I'll fill in the blacks with half-truths--easier to remember. He's positively human in his chivalry, ordering drinks without consulting me.

Then she arrives.

Bespoke leather armour over a long silk skirt. Sword on display. Her hair's coiled in an old-fashioned updo with gold detailing and just the right amount of intimidation. Her horns curl back in long arcs, gleaming with polish. A flash of decorated hooves peeks out beneath the skirt.

She greets her son with a full-on lip kiss--deep and lingering. When she finally releases him, she strokes his cheek with pride.

I can smell soil in her creases. She's proper undertown stuff.

'You could leave the second necklace off, Pet.'

He nearly rips the offensive chain from his neck, stuffing it into his pocket, flustered

It's going to be an interesting night.

They chat as we eat. I'm ignored. I don't care.

Beef. Chicken. Roasted animal flesh has never tasted better. I can't remember the last time I had real meat.

Soft touches, gentle caresses--all add up to a single question: just what is the relationship between mother and son?

After my third drink, I'm into this role. She finally burns me with her glare. If looks could kill, I'd be ash.

'Soul weapon?'

'Gun.' Her disgust is instant.

'Clan?'

Maybe I should whip my pussy out and get this over with.

'Mon'Ktha of Unter.' Her disgust lessens-- marginally. It's a powerful clan.

And that's it. She stands. We follow. I gave the waiter my dorm address for the leftovers.

Bound to Orbit

In a swank living room apartment, she sips her wine. Dray helps Matriarch undress. Is this really happening? Even this crosses several demon taboos. I keep my expression schooled as I sip water.

My wings twitch as she steps out of her skirt, biceps strapped above a six-pack stomach. Oof. Yowza. Her muscles have muscles. Fine, with a capital F. I'm afraid my wings give me away--they flutter and flare. Her eyes rest on me, a curious smile tugging her mouth. My response is noticed.

Dray slips a silk purple robe over her, offering her a cigar with a light.

My wings clamp tight. My dad died of cancer.

Her gaze snaps to me. 'Does this not please you, Pet?'

I bow my head. 'Forgive me, Mother. Smoking is banned in overworld culture. I'm un-accostomed to this tradition.'

Please put it away.

Dray's glossy black hooves appear in my eyeline. I hear something land on the far side of the room. My wings open again.

'Undress her.'

Dray silently removes my dress, leaving me in lingerie and discomfort. Matriarch circles me. 'You're blended. Can you withstand the stamina of us pure bloods?'

My wings flare on instinct. Oh boy. I like where this is going.

She shifts her weight onto her left hoof, jutting a hip as her wings stretch wide. 'Human blending. Percentage?'

'Seventy-ish, thirty-ish.'

Dray holds out a harness. I step into it. He tightens the straps around my waist. My fuck-me heels don't help my short stature. I get no robe.

Dray returns to his Matriarch, hands behind his lower back, eyes down, feet apart. He waits.

Oh my gods. I knew it. He's truly Mama's whipping boy.

Matriarch steps forward. He bends to one knee. She grinds against his tux, then slices each button with a talon.

She wrecks his shirt fast. Buttons ping across the room. His stunning, toned abs are exposed.

My wings--gods help me--flare again.

Because standing before me are just about every gods-damned fantasy I ever had as a teen. Not the mother-son part. But two sexy hunks of pure demonhood, both sexes, prancing around my space?

Yeah. That.

Her sword makes swift ribbons of his pants, teasing the inner edges of his skin. He flinches slightly as she cuts through his silk boxers, revealing the iron restrains that trap him. It's a statement. His discomfort is palpable.

Matriarch's blade vanishes into the ether with a quiet hum. She snaps her fingers.

I scramble to my knees. She palms two reds into my mouth, her gaze never leaving mine as she hands me a glass of water. 'You'll need to hydrate,' she says, the command as soft as it is heavy.

I swallow the treats quickly, hoping my cheeks don't betray me.

'Thank you, Mother.'

Her hand grips my horn, and before I can react, she presses my face into her. Her scent fills my senses-powerful, overwhelming. I move as instructed, doing my best to satisfy the unspoken demand in her eyes.

Her laughter rings out, sharp and approving. 'Dray's growing. Look.'

I glance sideways, keeping my posture as best I can, but my gaze flickers to him. Dray, straining in his restraints, is clearly unsettled. His discomfort mirrors my own--though in a different form. The cage keeps him in place, but his body betrays him.

Matriarch smiles, satisfied. She rubs her slick warmth over my face, marking me as hers. The subtle humiliation cuts, but it's a reminder of her control. I don't resist. I absorb it.

She walks away with a flick of her talon, slicing through Dray's restraints. The cage springs across the room as he releases a sharp breath, his body freed but no less trapped by the expectations surrounding him.

I can't help the giggle that bursts out of me, quick and loud. I snort, even.

Matriarch looks over, her gaze heavy with meaning. 'That's right, Pet. Dray's a disappointment. Weak.' She flicks his head with a finger. He stumbles, and I laugh again.

I take the cue. 'He struggles, Mother. I seek proper worship at the temple.'

She stretches her wings wide, a show of dominance. 'We'll guide him together, Pet. Present your wares.'

I bend over, spreading my legs, butt high in the air as she grabs my harness. She shifts me so I face Dray directly. Her fingers skim my skin, and her voice is a low murmur. 'She glistens. So ripe for you, Son. You want this badly.'

'Yes, Mother,' he breathes, his voice cracking.

Her tongue assaults me deliciously. My wings quiver with her touch. She smacks her lips. 'She tastes so good. Come here, Dray.'

She pulls him closer, positioning him just behind me, guiding his movements with ease. His head presses against my slit. She pushes his hips back and forth, guiding his rod in and out of me until he groans. She parks his dick deep in my pussy and walks away.

I'm lost in it, what we're all becoming in this space.

Exploding Stardust

This is where it gets really whack.

Matriarch's strapping on a Dray-sized, double-headed green dildo--showcasing pelvic strength of epic proportions--with a bottle of lube. I duck down for a peek between his legs.

He's flush, fidgeting. That cage left a memory.

Matriarch notices. She smirks like she's won something, and in a way? She has.

'Hold, Pet,' she commands, voice like smoke and velvet.

I freeze, wings twitching, not quite sure if I should be flattered or terrified. Probably both.

He grunts--hips tense, body taut--his cock twitching deep inside me.

Then click, clack. She's moving. She's in.

He gasps. I grin. This is going to be legendary.

She rolls her hips--slow, deliberate--driving both of them forward in a single, unrelenting push.

His head tips back against her chest as she tests the waters. 'That's it, my darling. Let Matriarch take care of you.'

Holy gods, this is a fertility fantasy with a new twist. Thank the gods I'm double-covered--meds and wards.

She thrusts--his hips grinding into mine.

I squeal. It happens again.

Matriarch's arms are long and powerful. She wields that strap-on--Dray--with expert precision. This is definitely not their first ride.

'Yes, Mother! Oh gods, harder!' I cry out in pleasure.

"You're a perfect little breeder--spread those legs wider, take us deeper."

I accommodate.

She lifts my hips, thrusting fast and hard. Each push sends me higher, my groan thick with ecstasy. My ass bounces; my knees lift off the ground as his massive cock drives me upward.

I lose it--my orgasm hot, raging. I haven't come this hard in years.

But she doesn't stop.

Her knees drill into my legs as she grinds against him. 'You can come now.'

On cue, he grunts softly. Warmth fills my box as his semen jets out.

She wastes no time, releasing her straps. Leaving the dildo in his ass.

She works me off his sagging penis, turning me around with expectation. I engulf his musky, tangy, semi-flaccid dick in my mouth.

Her aggressive tongue buries deep into my box. Her greedy lips attach to my burning clit--can that lady suck!

Excellent technique. I take notes.

Dray slowly begins to move his hips, drawing his shaft in and out.

Her voice bellows. 'I didn't give you permission to move, Junior.' His hips freeze, motionless.

She drives me into another frenzy. I work to rise him to the occasion again, groaning around his shaft to show her my enjoyment. Her pleased laugh stokes the fire of my hormones.

Matriarch slurps the rest of my slick and cum. 'That's enough. Son, come here.'

Dray follows her direction. I snicker seeing the green dildo sticking out of his ass.

'In here, now.' She pats her lap, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips.

He turns around, and she sighs as he settles in her lap. Oh gods... that... they... I'm so fucking turned on.

Matriarch grips his stiff rod, coaxing me closer. 'Show me how well you dance, Pet.'

I scramble into his lap, yielding to her completely.

Other species call us tempters. That's the one thing they've got right about demons.

Only, we don't understand the human construct of sin.

Before I can move, Matriarch takes hold of my harness again. She lifts me high, effortless. She drops me--I melt. 'Oh my fucking gods!' It's pure bliss.

She lifts me up again and smiles. 'Watch your language, Pet.'

Then, she drops me again. I slam down hard, moaning into his shoulder. She picks up the pace, continuing the dance at a much faster rhythm. I fall limp, surrendering to her control--enjoying the ride. Each bounce--that dildo in them--I quiver at the thought.

I bounce and dance on his dandy as I get so fucking worked up.

'More pressure, Mama.' I'm deep in this fantasy now.

She laughs heartily, sawing me back and forth on his shaft. The friction.

Almost painful.

The pleasure.

After a few more moves, he grunts quietly, exploding his load again and keeps coming.

It tips me over again and I climax. He moans as my muscles constrict tightly, milking anything left.

I'm spent. I'm exhausted.

After a few moves, Matriarch stands up and piles on top of us on the edge of a bed. She humps her dildo as his flaccid dick slips out of me. Wet cum splats on her thigh.

Matriarch lets out a magnificent roar as she comes, fucking us all hard for her selfish pleasure.

Finally, she relaxes on top of us--a sweaty, sloppy pile of spent demonhood.

Soon we settle on the bed, my hips held high by her thigh. 'Sleep, Pet.'

Dray looks so bloody content in her arms. The softness in the way she holds him, as though nothing else exists. They drift off together. The drugs and four orgasms placate me into a dozy, contented haze.

I'm a deep sleeper even without the aid of pharmaceuticals and endorphins.

Stellar Exposure

The next morning, I wake up alone. A folded pile of black linen and a pair of cotton slippers lie beside me. A single red rose tied to a rolled-up scroll.

A velvet box rests on top of my clothes.

I sit up. I'm naked--no jewellery. My stories are back, hair short. The illusion is gone, along with the minor transformations.

I open the box. Oh boy. Diamond earrings.

It snaps shut in my fist.

I scurry to the shower and indulge in the upscale service for as long as I dare, properly grooming my wings for the first time in ages.

The clothes are nice. Linen pants, spaghetti-strap top. The shoes are incredibly soft. I hide the box in my pocket and pull on my collar, thinking about Rat. I speak my need out loud, just in case. 'Rat, I need you here. Not Gud. You--or all is lost.'

I swear he can tune in anytime. A loud clap echoes through the room. Rat bows. 'You bellowed?' He straightens, looking annoyed. 'What's so important, K?'

I hand him the velvet box, as expected. 'My tip. Gud would steal it.'

He cracks the box open and stares. His gaze meets mine, then a low whistle escapes.

I nod. 'Yeah.'

Diamond fucking earrings.

He casts a few spells, and the box vanishes into his jacket. He's still eying me with surprise. 'You've earned three nights off, dewdrop. You've done well.'

He holds his hand out.

The second I touch it, a loud clap snaps through my bones. My stomach flips inside out as I invert.

I hate spriting sober.

We land in his office. He flicks the TV on, and a recording starts.

My entire evening plays out from multiple--dinner at the restaurant, Dray's clean up, everything. Whoever edited this did a fine job. The Actors are crystal clear, but my face never fully shows.

I'll admit it: we watch the whole show. While it plays, Rat mounts me a few times from behind. We're both worked up by the end of the hour long action-packed film. I'm left lathered and tingling all over again.

In the credits, Rat pauses the feed.

Credits for me:

K as Fiance.

'These earrings'll fund the house for weeks, but you've earned me serious cred.' Rat grins. 'Keep the clothes.' The rose sits in a vase on his desk.

I sit back on my heels, staring at the screen.

Where were the cameras?

He rolls open the scroll and taps it. 'Same clause fifteen. Two years' internship with them. You'd travel the world with that crew, K.'

I have no idea how long I've been here. But that might shorten my contract.

I touch my collar. The warm metal feels heavy than before.

Here, I have rights. Protection.

Out there?

Even if I'm with them, I'm on my own.

'Do I have to make a decision now?'

Rat shakes his head, tossing the contract on his desk. 'Next week, you're scheduled for the other Patron. Hold off. Decide when you've got all the pieces.'

He rummages in a drawer and tosses over a few coupons. 'Here. Vouchers. Go see the sights. Be a tourist. Gud'll find you if you don't come back in seventy-two hours.'

And the punch line?

Matriarch and Dray aren't even related. Just dropped that bomb at the end, casual as anything.

I scamper off down the streets as my heart races. Ice cream first. Then the longest flight I can have. I might even sleep in the woods, just because I can.

I wasn't lying to Matriarch. I have my own protection.

I've smuggled the only known gun into a fae court as my soul-bound weapon.

But where were the fucking cameras?