Queen Yavara

ZANDER

"Yavara, it's way too easy for me to get through that head. You need to either defend or counterattack; not try both." Prestira lectured Yavara as the dark-elf collapsed on the floor, her chest heaving.

"Can you explain to me how I'm supposed to defend against

that?

" Yavara gasped as she pulled herself up.

"I told you, when you feel me manipulating our connection you need to block my advances. If you feel me up here," Prestira placed her finger on her forehead, "that's where you need to focus. If you feel me here, that's where you need to focus. There are thousands of entry points into the mind, and you need to react to each of them when I try to intrude."

"What if I don't bother defending, and go right for a counterattack?" Yavara asked as she flexed the muscles in her hand, a bewildered expression strewn across her face.

"Counterattacking is much harder. It's not the same as attacking. Yesterday you were on the offensive the entire time, so you dictated how our connection would be established. Today, I'm on the offensive, and I get to dictate the terms of engagement. The attacker always has the advantage, and the best course of action is to defend until they're worn out. A counterattack leaves you completely vulnerable if you fail. Now, focus on the point of intrusion, and block me!"

Yavara's eyes rolled into her head, her expression going slack. Prestira took a moment to make Yavara slap herself before she let the elf go.

"Too easy, Yavara! You're not concentrating on the point of attack; you're trying to defend you whole mind at once. Again!"

Yavara lasted about two seconds longer before she collapsed on the ground. Prestira looked at me with a concerned expression. "We've been here for hours with no progress, Zander. Yavara isn't going to be able to fuck her way out of every situation; she needs to put herself in the right mindset."

"Yavara isn't used to playing defensively." I mused, "I think she may have more luck just counterattacking than trying to defend. It goes against her nature to stand back and take the punishment."

"She sure enjoyed taking my punishment." Brock replied from his whiskey bottle in the corner.

"Submission is not the same as defense, Brock." Prestira replied to the orc, "Submission is what you do after defense has failed."

"I can't believe you let him up here." I scowled at Prestira.

Prestira shrugged. "The moment I saw what he was packing, I gave him a double-or-nothing proposition to get out of it. Brock was convinced that all our lessons would devolve into an orgy, so he said that if he won, he'd get to participate in the next lesson, and I had to blow him. I lost."

Brock grabbed his crotch and sneered at me. "I think she lost on purpose, Zander."

Did you?

He dropped his dick on the board and dared me to checkmate him. It was an unorthodox, but effective endgame. I got curious.

Slut.

I'm not the one who let him stick his fingers up my ass. Which reminds me...

Yavara abruptly got to her knees, her expression wide and brainless, her tongue lolling from her panting mouth. Prestira patted her lap, and like a submissive pup, Yavara crawled to her master. She sat compliantly on Prestira's lap and spread her legs, her tight black dress sliding up her thighs until it sprung passed her hips, revealing everything between her legs. She pressed her heels into the floor and rose into a leg-shaking squat, then by the behest of her master, she reached beneath herself, and spread her bronze globes. Prestira smiled into her captive's eyes, and slid her hand through Yavara's leaking folds, lubricating her fingers. Yavara shuddered and whimpered, then hissed when Prestira's hand glided down her taint. Prestira pinched her fingers together beneath Yavara's favorite hole, and uttered a single command.

"Sit."

Prestira released Yavara's mind just as the elf collapsed onto Prestira's lap. Yavara's eyes bulged, her chest shot forward to jiggle one breast free. She may have screamed then, had Prestira not forced their mouths together. She soothed Yavara with her lips and tongue, and Yavara relaxed to reciprocate in kind, their cheeks going gaunt in their gentle devouring. Yavara caressed Prestira's jaw before letting her go, her eyes half closed, a crooked smile creeping across her lips.

"I guess that was payback."

"You guessed right." Prestira whispered into Yavara's ear, her hand defiling the elf beneath her dress, "I'd thought there'd be more room in here after yesterday's foray, but it's such a snug fit."

"It must be my succubus D.N.A." Yavara whispered back, crinkling her nose.

"Get back over there, you little bitch." Prestira laughed as she pushed Yavara off her. I swore I heard a squelching sound mark the exit of Prestira's fist, but I couldn't be sure with Yavara's violent cry of delight. The elf took a moment to recover from the blow, then looked over her shoulder at Prestira, and began crawling lasciviously away, her skirt riding her hips. Prestira watched her go, undoubtedly admiring her handy work. She brought that hand to her nose, and inhaled, her eyes rolling a little. Coming back into focus, she tentatively poked out her tongue, and tested the taste of one finger. She raised her eyebrows, then she tested the other four, making sure Yavara watched her do it.

Prestira was sexually competitive, if not combative, and I knew her well enough to know she viewed Yavara as competition. I wasn't so vain to think that I was the prize, though I was sure Prestira enjoyed the idea of testing her lecherous mettle against Alkandi's incarnation; no, it was just Prestira's nature. She hadn't been born with magic, but learned it and mastered it through countless hours and horrific self-sacrifices. Not being a natural-born meant she had to constantly prove herself, and so developed quite the chip on her shoulder. Yavara was a natural-born harlot (to put it nicely), and Prestira once again set herself to prove that experience trumps genetics. Whatever depths Yavara would go to, Prestira would follow. I wasn't complaining. Judging by Brock's face, he wasn't either.

Prestira took a deep breath and composed herself. "Zander thinks that it would be better if we ignored mental defense, and focused solely on counterattacking. This goes against convention, but I suppose you are not a conventional girl. A successful counterattack is incredibly difficult; you must not only react to the place in your mind I attack, but also grab hold of the connection and make it your own. Failing to do either of these things will leave you completely vulnerable to me. Are you ready?"

Yavara nodded and locked eyes with Prestira. They stared intensely at each other as the battle raged in their minds, but from an outward appearance, it looked like Yavara was exerting herself much more. Her eyes became bloodshot, her temple pulsed, and her lower lip trembled. With a defeated groan, she finally collapsed. Prestira sighed, and made Yavara stand up. The possessed dark-elf walked seductively across the room, her hips swaying from side to side, her orange eyes fixated on Brock's crotch. Brock couldn't get his pants down fast enough, fumbling desperately with his belt as his eyes shown with eagerness.

"I'm sorry I couldn't take you all the way last night." Prestira spoke seductively through Yavara's mouth, her own lips moving silently, "I'm not built for it, I'm afraid. But she is. Here's a consolation prize."

Yavara bent over at the hips, her thighs pressed together, her dress tightening alluringly around her glutes. She ran her tongue between the orc's balls before sliding it up his shaft, slowly licking her way to the head. At the other end of the room, Prestira licked her own lips, eyes closed in hedonistic splendor. Yavara wrapped her lush mouth about Brock, and slowly descended while maintaining eye contact. Prestira made Yavara continue even after the elf gagged, saliva secreting from her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. An unsightly bulge began to from in Yavara's elegant throat, but she didn't cease her advance. She took him to the base, and when her nose pressed into Brock's loins, Prestira let out an exhilarated gasp. Yavara rotated her lips as she ascended, slurping sounds emanating from the seal, her cheeks hollowing with the suction. Up and down, Yavara drew a ponderous path, sheening Brock sensually, never breaking the pattern. It would have been enough for most men to be taken so generously by a beautiful woman, but bit Brock. Without warning, he grabbed the back of Yavara's head, and forced it all the way down. Prestira sounded a cry of delight, and Yavara sounded a muffled squeal, her eyes bulging. Brock held Yavara's head down while he thrusted into her, turning her pristine portrait into a ruin of smeared makeup and leaking spit, her eyes slowly rolling upward and losing focus. As she gurgled and gagged in abuse, Prestira writhed on the floor, her hands pushed between her grinding thighs, her teeth pressing into her lower lip. With a final grunt, Brock forced his entire length into Yavara, and a moment later, his white seed leaked from her relaxed lips. Prestira screamed in delight on the floor, sucking the fingers of one had while the other finished between her thighs.

Yavara withdrew from the orc and swallowed, smiling gratefully down at him, and drawing a lascivious finger about her lips to collect the leftovers. Prestira regained control of herself, and released her captive. Yavara's eyes rolled back into her head, and she stumbled before catching herself on the table.

"That was a little far, Prestira." Yavara gasped as she held her throat.

"Every time you fail it will only get worse for you, Yavara. There's no learning if failure isn't met with consequence."

Yavara coughed up a bit of Brock and wiped her mouth. "When I get control of you Prestira, I'm not going to be very nice."

"If you can successfully counterattack me, you can do whatever you want to me." Prestira smirked.

Yavara leaned down. "Is that a promise?" She whispered against Prestira's mouth, tracing the witch's cheek with her fingers.

"Yes." Prestira whispered back. The two parted without a kiss, both sets of lips quirked deviously. Prestira clearly never thought she'd have to pay for that promise, and Yavara obviously thought she'd just lured Prestira into a trap. I couldn't say definitively who I believed was right.

Yavara sat cross-legged across from Prestira and focused on the witch's eyes. "Are you ready?" She asked before Prestira could, breaking the predefined roles of pupil and master.

"Yes." Prestira smirked simply, not goaded to anger easily.

Brock nudged me with his elbow. "Whoever loses, we win!" He growled, excitement shining in his eyes. I couldn't help but grin back.

Yavara was holding out against Prestira, her face fixed with concentration. Sweat dripped down her forehead, the muscles in her jaw tightened, her cheeks flushed, and her nostrils flared. Prestira stared placidly back, her lips curving in a slight smile. Tears were glimmering from Yavara's eyes now, and her face had gone from red, to purple. Prestira inclined her head by a fraction. Yavara was breathing laboriously, her lids fluttering, a vein in her forehead revealing itself and pulsing with her temple. Prestira yawned. A vessel burst in Yavara's eye, and Prestira collapsed on the floor. I gawked disbelievingly as Yavara let out a whoop, and leapt to her feet. Prestira rose slowly to her knees, her hands dangling from her arms as though she was a dog. Yavara strutted over to her new pet and stroked her hair, and Prestira reciprocated with panting canine affection.

"Zander, can you conjure a leash for Prestira? And how about a chain for her tits?" Yavara asked me excitedly. I raised my finger and obliged the elf. A black leash formed around Prestira's neck, and a golden chain connected her breasts by her piercings. Yavara slid Prestira's robe from her shoulders, exposing the slender nakedness of the sorceress.

"What do you plan to do with your new dog now?" I asked.

Yavara took Prestira's leash. "I'm going to take her for a walk. Disguise me, Zander."

I cast the spell, causing Yavara's eyes to turn green, and her ears to round over. She guided the crawling Prestira down the stairs and into the bar. The sound of clanking glasses and joyous calls dwindled to deathly silence as "Trisha" displayed the establishment's owner to the patrons. She walked Prestira through the crowd, her head held high, a smirk creasing her lips. Prestira crawled after. Murmurs started floating from the customers. The murmurs rose to a steady grumble, then an excited boiling of shouts and laughter. Yavara stood atop the bar, proud before her audience, and Prestira climbed after to sit on her haunches before her master's feet. Frankly, I expected the first public address of the Dark Queen to go quite differently.

"Does everyone like my new pet?" Yavara asked the spectators.

The crowd roared in thunderous approval.

"And who here wants to play with my new bitch?" Yavara yelled.

The patrons clamored around Prestira and began to grope her. Prestira licked every hand that passed by her face, and moaned with every slap and squeeze from the strangers. I'd seen her humbled before, but this... this was something else. I had to remind myself that Prestira had agreed to this, lest I break up the event and cause a riot.

"Listen up!" Yavara yelled to the crowd, "Prestira is so grateful for your patronage that she is going to fuck whoever wants her! The price of admission is ten gold pieces for her mouth, fifteen for her pussy, and twenty for her ass; you may direct your payments to the wizard."

Glasses clanged, feet pounded, and every patron rushed over to me, forming a line and jockeying noisily for position.

"No need to rush!" Yavara yelled, "Prestira won't leave until every last one of you is serviced!"

"And what about you, Trisha?" A voice cut through the crowd.

"Me?" Yavara exclaimed, touching her cheek and blushing.

"Yeah, how much for the hottest piece of ass in Ardeni?" Another voice yelled.

Yavara looked at all the men in the crowd, licking her lips. She pushed the straps of her dress over her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor.

"I'm for free!" She yelled, and the crowd erupted.

Brock glanced at me with a frown. "I told her she didn't have to do this; there are other ways to make money."

"We're not making money off Yavara." I sighed, "She's doing this for... other reasons."

"Yeah..." Brock said as he watched the crowd surge toward the women, "I'm going to lock the door before half the city lines up."

Yavara perched herself on a barstool, her hands resting between her legs on its front, her ass sticking outward from the end of her arched back. She positioned Prestira in a similar manner on the barstool next to her. The first round of men came up and gave me twenty coins for each woman. They were the humans that had groped Yavara the day before, and they were giddy with excitement.

"Don't go in dry now, boys; you need to prime us before you can pump." Yavara said, smiling lecherously over her shoulder.

The two men dropped two their knees, spread the women open, and spit. I saw a shudder move across Yavara's body when one of the men planted his face between her cheeks, and Prestira let out a moan as the other stuck a finger into her ass, rotating it. The men were hasty with their foreplay, and after only a minute they stood, lined up their shots, and pushed in. The crowd roared its approval as Yavara and Prestira cried out in unison; Yavara growing languid with whorish relief, Prestira wrenching back to exalt agony to the ceiling. The men were not gentle with the women. Prestira's knuckles whitened against the barstool as her anal virginity was taken while Yavara projected squeals of delight from both their mouths.

"Quit the foreplay, and

fuck me!

" She screamed, and the patrons cheered their concurrence.

The humans' thrusts grew more powerful, their face wrought with exertion and lust. Yavara's man slapped her ass while he pumped into her, her bronze globes turning bright red with hand prints, jiggling and shining in the barroom light. The elf cried out from each hit and pressed her ass backward to the man, encouraging his roughness. The crowd goaded for more. Not to be outdone, the other man took Prestira's hair and yanked it back, deepening the already-exaggerated bow of her back. Prestira's face bore Yavara's expression of masochistic delight, and she sung over the noise, high and true. Yavara kept her back arched and leaned her upper body backward, her tits bouncing freely. She craned her neck and whispered, "choke me" into her man's ear, and he obliged enthusiastically. I heard Yavara's thanking whimper sound before her voice was cut short. Prestira's man snaked a thumb beneath her nipple chain and pulled it down as he tightened his hold on her leash. Her eyeshadow streaked down her cheeks, exalting tears carrying it. Their pace increased to frenetic blur, filling the heavy air with the slaps of flesh, and the rising cry of the strangled performers. The crowd accompanied the crescendo with stomping feet and an escalating roar until their heinous call harmonized with the rapturous squeals of the women, the thick growls of the men. I could tell when they came, not by the pitch of their cries, but by the sudden release of tension in their bodies. Both men pulled out at once and spread the women, allowing the crowd to see the evidence dripping onto the barstool from gaping pink holes. They were ushered back into the fray with exuberant claps on the back and handshakes, while Yavara and Prestira took a metaphorical bow, sloppily kissing to thunderous applause. They were thoroughly disheveled and abused, but it was only the end of the first act.

Two more men stepped up, and each pressed twenty pieces into my hand. Yavara looked at Prestira with a thrilled smile as the men entered where the other two had left. Prestira hunched her shoulders, her body taken with the pain and pleasure. Yavara was more relaxed, resting her head or her man's shoulder with her fingers locked behind his head, her belly distended with her arching back, the soft lines of muscle flexing.

"You're just the town dumpster, aren't you Trish?" The man taunted into Yavara's ear.

"That's right big boy, fill this filthy dumpster up." Yavara gasped with a lecherous grin.

Yavara's man deformed her tits with his hands, gripping tightly enough to cause her flesh to protrude from between his fingers. She moaned delectably, tilting her head back and entangling tongues with the human, their kiss open-mouthed for all to see. Juxtaposing the display of graceful depravity was Prestira, who was doubled-over in the intensity of her anal ruination, her hands gripping the edge of the bar, screams erupting from her lips. Prestira's man hoisted his hands under the witch's legs, bringing her off her stool as her ankles flew in the air. Strings of comingled fluids dripped from her, before snapping when she was lifted from her seat.

"Hey John, bring Trish over here and let the ladies play with each other!" Prestira's man roared.

John picked Yavara up by the thighs and brought the elf over to Prestira, pressing the women against each other. Their breasts squished and distorted against one another while they cried their pleasure to the ceiling, their forms glistening with sweat. A goblin ran over to John and handed him a double-sided dildo. Why a goblin had it handy, I did not ask, and neither did John when he took the dildo and slid it into Yavara's vacant slit. Yavara barely had time to react to the new development before Prestira's man pushed the witch's pelvis forward, forcing Yavara to penetrate her. Their eyes went wide with mutual shock, but Yavara recovered with all the grace she could muster. She locked lips with Prestira, their mouths consuming while the men forced them to fuck each other with each ferocious thrust.