Everything felt dizzy, like if he had been spun around and around. Even without opening his eyes, his head was swimming. Slowly, Alaron Highforge forced them open.
He had expected pain from the light, but found himself in a dark room. One too blurred by his vision to be comfortable to watch. He swiftly shut his eyes again, hoping the dizziness would subside. Far away, like if muffled by a blanket, he could hear the sounds of a city, bustling with life. It was so far away, that he could not even discern if the merchants' shouts were common or orcish.
As the world began to right itself from its unsteady wobble, Alaron began to wonder where he was. Opening his eyes did not reveal much else, nor did a flick of his blood elven ears. The room was lavish, a bedroom of sorts. He laid on a large bed, his limbs so heavy they could not be moved. Perhaps the silken ropes that held him down to the bedpost had something to do with that, Alaron mused. He frowned, the long brown brows following his motion. Why was he tied?
The thought was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Alaron turned his head, each muscle tensed, to regard the intruder. His jaw dropped at the woman, wearing only clipboard and quill in hand. She was a human, with olive skin and snow white hair. It was so starkly white, that it must have been bleached. Looking down, he registered that her pubic mound too had been whitened in this fashion. Alaron was too shocked to hear what she at first said, and only realised that this woman was speaking, when his own name was said.
"- Alaron Highforge, three-hundred and twenty-six, Sin'dorei male. Fair, brown hair," she droned off, scribbling on her clipboard. It sounded monotone, as if the girl was in a trance.
"What's going on? Where am I? Who are you?" Alaron asked, getting increasingly agitated as this girl ignored him. Eventually done with her notes, the girl put down the clipboard on a low table - giving him a fine view of her ass. Blood rushed to the elf's cheeks as he turned his head away. It was not like he had never seen a naked woman, just... Never one who had been so open about it.
She drew away a curtain, revealing a chair behind it. Or rather, a throne. The upholstery was a deep red, nestled in a dark wood. He barely heard the sound of a bell when the girl pulled a string.
"Thank you, Flora." A smooth voice said. He gasped. It was like liquid sex, flowing through his ears. If his cock had not been stirred before, it certainly was now. Alaron craned his neck to the the source of this strangely arousing, strangely familiar voice.
Her name laid itself over his mind, as soon as she stepped in. Ayhane. At a full head shorter than the woman, Flora, she was hardly intimidating in stature. But the way she moved... Vaguely, as he watched her prowl gracefully to clipboard, he remembered bits of the night prior. Booty Bay. A full tavern. Several drinks and those storm grey eyes on his as they had fucked. Her chocolate skin against his.
"Well, my dear, it would seem like we have a guest," Ayhane said towards the opening door.
The first thing that hit Alaron was the scent. A sweet and overpowering, almost pungent scent. As he breathed, notes of burnt wood and spices found his nose. It felt as if the scent alone was wrapping itself around him as a warm blanket.
Then it stepped in. Standing about a head higher than Flora, it was maybe at his height -- Tall for a succubus. The long, never-ending legs stretching up from its cloven hooves, over its juicy calves, and up to her flaring hips. The demon was not wearing anything, he registered sluggishly, and he could see its folds, flaring out like a flower, each time it moved those incredible legs, its long tail swaying tantalisingly in the rhythm of its movements. Above the hips were an impossibly thin waist, booming out into a pair of unrestrained breasts, the taut nipples standing out sharply, purple against the succubus' ivory skin. White hair flowed down unrestrained to the waist, bobbing gently each time it moved.
"Carna, my dear," Ayhane said to the succubus. His attention snapped to the woman, whom had now seated herself in the throne before Alaron. Flora had begun to braid her hair, weaving silver threads into the black locks. He felt a little self-concious, as she was the only person clothed in the room -- if you could call a dress that scarcely covered her bust and privates for clothes, and not teasing.
"Yes, my Mistress?" the demon purred. It was like a shock-wave had gone through the room, and it hit him in the face. He shuddered, every one of his nerves shaking in unexpected desire. Faintly, he could hear the passionate groan of lust from Flora.
"Please make sure he is ready for me, will you?" Ayhane said. Her smile raked down Aaron's spike like a razor. Something about it, the predatory way in which she said it... He began to struggle against his bonds, despite the voice in the back of his head pleading him to stay. He roughly pulled against the silken bonds, his muscles tightening. He could feel the fabric give away. If he could only free one of his hands...
"Come now, dear, we cannot have that," Her voice said. It ran down his body, easing his muscles and fogging his mind. Alaron turned his head, to see that Carna had moved closer to him. A burning sensation was spreading from his wrist, though not unpleasant, where she touched him. Shakily, he drew in his breath -- taking in more of her wondrous scent. He groaned as her hand travelled up his arm. "No," he said, shaking his head. The elf was aware he had been fighting. He knew he had tried to escape. But as Her fingers travelled up his neck, before running up his sensitive, long ears, he struggled to recall why in the world he would want to. Her touch brought sparks of desire wherever She went, and leaned over him as She was, he could freely see Her entire body. Her breasts swayed, just outside of reach. In the frame between them, he could see a person -- though he had forgotten whom -- getting undressed. A long braid fell down into her lap, the silver threads in the black hair reflecting what little light there were in the room. Someone had lit a candle, he guessed.
"Oh, you poor, poor thing. You have been alone for so long, have you not?" the mesmerising voice asked, Her breath hot on his ear. His body shuddered. Each vowel and syllable felt like they were caressing him, smoothing out his worries. His head vigorously bobbed up and down. Of course he had been lonely. He longed for Her. His body called out, begging for Her closeness.
He head a raspy chuckle. Then, a warm, wet lick up his ear, the forked tongue playing with both sides of it. He was seeing stars. His entire body tensed, and for a moment, Alaron thought he might burst. His cock strained with need, begging for attention, as the pleasure claimed him like a tide. He shook violently under Her, pressing against his bonds to get closer. He writhed in the bed, pleading nonsense at Her not to stop. He could only hear an otherworldly laugh.
Words were spoken, but they meant nothing to him. He could only focus on that wicked tongue, slowly travelling down to his neck. His moans were shaky, his entire body feeling like a drawn bowstring, ready to fire. Her gorgeous hair tickled his naked waist, and he bit his lip as it brushed against his rock-hard erection. The burning desire spread over his chest as She licked and lapped her tongue over his nipples. His hands grasped blindly for something to hold onto as he writhed on the bed, his fingers grasping onto his own bonds. As Her tongue travelled down his abs, he heard a foreign purr. It did not shake him as if it had been Hers, but he could feel the blonde locks rustling, as if She was shuddering. Alaron wrestled his gaze up from the goddess lapping at his navel, towards the woman in the throne. She had lazily draped one leg over the armrest, showing off her glistening folds. The dress was carefully folded on a table, her breasts now hanging free -- one dark brown nipple being played with, ever so casually, by a striking set of silver nails and soft fingertips.
At her dainty feet, a head of bleached blonde hair bobs. He could faintly see the tongue, worshipping the toes and their silver nails. A quiet, light chuckle caught his attention, and he brought his viridian eyes up to her storm grey. The playful spark was mesmerising and almost drew him into their gale. She grinned, her eyes travelling downwards, to where the tongue had stopped-
He gasped. As Her tongue lapped over the tip of his cock, his body felt like it had become liquid flame. Alaron thrashed under the expert tongue, the forked tips playing with his crown. He felt himself rapidly being pushed towards the edge, and every fibre of his being was begging for it. He barely registered that he was actually begging, the words filtering in as if they were not his own.
"Please, please," he pleaded. "I need it, oh ple- Oh, oh! Oh, ANAR'ALAH!" Her mouth came around his cock as he erupted, white stars flying for his eyes. His hands grasped the silks, small tears from his nails. He groaned, his cock burning, as he emptied himself. Below, Carna's expert mouth drew every single drop from him, milking him of his essence and energy.
