Trys knew she had a broad smile on her face. She also knew why.
She had never been so happy in all her life.
She'd put off
getting
off for
hours
, holding herself in a state of constant frustration just to keep her wits about her. Now she didn't have to. She couldn't even remember why she'd been delaying—how could she ever delay when she was
always
so horny? The Thriae had made her so scrumptiously slutty. How could she ever pass that gift up? It felt so right to jill herself off right next to her two teammates. So right and good and sticky and natural. So... sweet.
She stared into the fragrant thistle, studying its spirals. They drew her in like a candle to a moth. Er, like a flame to a candle. No. She giggled faintly. She was a bit out of it right now, for some reason. Her finger played over her clit, and she savored its slow, careful attentions.
It was important to edge herself, she knew. Something told her that was key. It felt so, so good to stay on the edge as she stared into the spirals. She knew that eventually, she would reach the bottom of the spiral, and then she could come. Eventually.
Eventually.
She ran her finger over her clit, stroking very gently, and watched the spirals. Eventually.
So immersed was she in this slow pleasure, it wasn't too hard to tune out Yathi. But it was hard. Trys was moaning, of course, and she could hear Brist and Yathi moaning, too. She knew Yathi was still trying to recover from the influence of all that tasty mead. She giggled, remembering how
she
had been when she'd first been exposed. It had been so simply. So sweet. So easy to just lie in her bed and masturbate, to beg her Thriae mistress for more. She had wanted nothing but to serve. To become a nice, sweet-hearted little honey sprite, a drone for her beloved owners.
Yathi was feeling like that now, and something about that made Trys so happy. She was a bit guilty about that.
But how could she help it? Yathi was so,
so
beautiful. Amazingly beautiful. Supernaturally beautiful. Trys could almost come just
listening
to that sexy, nubile rogue edging herself to madness. Yathi was so desperate... so needy... Trys fantasized about leaning over, about licking her sweet companion out until she screamed...
But that would be wrong.
Right?
At any rate, it would force her to look aay from the flower. And Trys needed to watch the spirals. She would be allowed to cum soon, after all. Soon.
After what felt like only a few seconds of edging, Trys felt like a sweaty, gasping mess, almost overwhelmed with frustrating pleasure. Surely it had only been a few seconds. The spiral had only gone around a few times, Trys was sure. Soon. Soon.
Trys felt something long and slick wrapping around her ankle, but kneeling on the ground as she was, she paid it no mind. It did not interfere with edging. She needed to edge. Needed to be a good, sweet girl.
Then another something wrapped around her other ankle. This, too, was unimportant. Trys needed to edge. Needed to watch the spirals. Needed to listen to Yathi torment herself. Needed to be good. Docile. Pliant. Obedient.
Then a vine wrapped around Trys's left arm, and this was a bit of a problem. Oh well. She now only had one hand to edge herself with, and could no longer fondle her breasts while she frigged herself. Oh well.
Then a fourth vine started to wrap around Trys's chest. Trys moaned, feeling its smooth, slick length graze over her nipples. That... That wasn't a problem at
all
. That was very much...
appreciated
.
Then a fifth vine wrapped around Trys's right arm, and that.
That
was a problem.
But Trys only had time to mumble a feeble, "Mm?" before she was suddenly yanked backwards with a shriek.
She heard Yathi fly back, too, and realized they were both being pulled in the same direction.
At least we'll be together,
she thought, not altogether nobly.
Her mind was beginning to clear, and she fought like a caged devil. It was no use. The green vines were thick and woody, and sinewy enough to avoid being snapped or bruised. Trys's struggles almost got her clocked over the head by a low-hanging branch, and so she went limp and allowed herself to be dragged across the lush green grass. She could barely make out Brist, all the way back there in the thistle patch, before bushes obscured her view. It was almost like the plants were moving to obscure him. Surround him.
But maybe Trys was just disoriented.
She only spared a passing thought to her knife. That knife was in the pants she'd pulled down to her ankles a moment... minute... hour ago? And those pants were
gone
. So she just hung limply, dangling like a pig on a stick, and waited for their flight to slow. From the sounds of things, Yathi was doing the same, though Yathi had been grabbed first and was a little bit above Trys, out of sight.
"You okay, Yathi?" Trys called up.
A hoarse cry of frustration—both normal and sexual—was Trys's only reply.
After about half a minute, the vines' long journey seemed to slow. Trys was astounded at how long the vines appeared to stretch. They were in a completely different part of the forest now, and rapidly descending toward what Trys initially took for something like a blackberry patch. But no, it was much stranger than that.
Trys was looking at a massive, house-sized mass of vines just like the ones that now held Trys and Yathi captive.
And Trys could hear moaning from within that mass.
The vines slowed to a gentle pace. Yathi and Trys swung a little as their path normalized. Trys realized they were about to be lowered directly into the mass.
"Yathi," she whispered urgently. "Have you got any of your knives?"
"Only two," Yathi muttered. She was very well trussed-up, Trys realized—it looked like no fewer than ten vines held her upside-down. Her face was bright red and shiny with sweat—as, Trys supposed, her own must have been. "One's too small. The other's in my boot." She indicated with her eyes her right foot, which was, like her left, held completely spread from the rest of her body.
Trys realized just how sexually the vines were holding Yathi—her pussy was on full display thanks to how spread her legs were. It couldn't be comfortable.
But
damn
, it was pleasant to look at.
Trys tore her gaze away, biting her lip. She was still fucking horny. "What is this?" she muttered, trying to take her mind off of Yathi's sweet, wet,
gooey
... "A limpet trap?"
"Nah. Limpet trap would already be fucking our brains out." Yathi visibly swallowed. "This is probably a vine dryad, or maybe a druid. Though a druid usually wouldn't be able to grab from so far off..."
"Not enough range?"
"Not enough aim. As I understand it. So either we're dealing with a
really
powerful druid, or—" Yathi squirmed. "Fuck," she hissed.
"Yathi?"
Yathi was silent a moment, as they slowly descended, the only sound the gaspings and whinings from down below.
A low moan escaped the scout's plush lips.
After a moment, Trys realized that the vines had started to gently caress her companion, running slickly along her exposed cunt. It looked like heaven. And hell, Trys thought, licking her lips.
"F-fuck," Yathi repeated, writhing. Her eyes screwed shut. Trys realized she was struggling to reach her pussy, but that was, of course, impossible. She let out a groan, followed by a grunt, followed by a frustrated cry stained with crippling arousal. "F-fuck!"
Trys realized she was staring. She just... couldn't tear her eyes away.
Yathi's eyes are closed,
she told herself.
She won't know.
She bit her lip. She really needed to look away.
She eventually did manage to avert her gaze. And then Yathi's moans and whines became gradually unbearable, until, torn with curiosity and lust, Trys looked again. Trys watched as they descended as Yathi was mercilessly teased and edged, held on the border of unbearable arousal.
Why can't I look away?
she asked herself, wishing she could touch herself, relieve some of her lingering tension, shove her face into Yathi's crotch and...
Goddammit, how is she so
hot
?
Trys almost felt just as tortured as Yathi just by the sight and sounds. To have the object of her lust so
close
, and yet... she tried to cut the thought away, but it grew back like a meddlesome weed.
It didn't make any sense. How
was
she so hot? Trys had known plenty of beautiful women, and slept with most of them, but something about Yathi was different. Was it because she was infected now? No, Trys had been drawn to her even before that. What was it?
The descend took about ten minutes. It felt like hours. Trys was 'forced' to watch as her colleague shook and spasmed, unable to orgasm and yet unable to think straight for desire. As they lowered closer to the vines, the vines started to move around them, and the moans from below started to get clearer. Trys and Yathi were lowered into a strange, dark hollow in the mass. The vines had been used to construct a sort of shelter. A big one.
At the bottom were four figures.
Two of them wore green robes. One was entirely nude, lying beside a pair of forgotten glasses with one broken lens as though someone had stepped upon it. And one, a woman with shining golden hair, was dressed in provocative lingerie with thigh-high tights.
She, and the robed women, were catgirls. Large, pointy ears poked up from the tops of their heads, and as two robed women turned to look at them, Trys saw that their green eyes were slitted like felines'.
The nude woman was the source of the moaning. She was a gorgeous, full-figured woman with incredibly long braided green locks. She clutched at her breasts, red-faced and gasping, as the blonde catgirl held something at her crotch.
A runerod, Trys realized, seeing it vibrate. A magic item devised to pleasure pussies, to stimulate every single nerve, every ounce of mental energy. It was risky to use a runerod for more than a few minutes at a time.
