The dusky graveyard had been torn apart and emptied. Its ancient tombstones were cracked and toppled, its rusted gates broken off the hinges. The ground was freshly dug and churned so that massive piles of dirt bordered the dozens of previously undisturbed graves. Every moldy coffin had been cracked open, and every vine-covered tomb had been ransacked, but not for the treasure, oddly. All the bits of gold and silver had been left behind, and discarded throughout the piles of dirt were ancient bejeweled swords and pieces of armor. Whoever had raided this dismal little necropolis hadn't done so for easy bits of crusty treasure, but they had taken everything that was of value to them.
They had taken all the bodies.
Darting through the misty graveyard was a sleek, slippery black shadow with glowing red eyes. Only when it paused was the ebony blur noticeably a cat, one that inspected the defiled graves and broken tomb with a preternatural intelligence. Bolting through the shadows and shade, the cat came back to the toppled gates and slowed. The sleek black cat stood up on its hind-legs and suddenly grew in size, its slippery black fur dissipating as smooth, peachy flesh took its place. Within a second all that remained of the cat were a swaying, serpentine tail, two glowing red eyes, and a spiky head of shiny black hair. Everything else was now a naked, lithe young woman, whose firm breasts perked in the cold, and whose tight buttocks flexed in discomfort.
"Looks like Graf was already here," Pussy-pocket the succubus said, patting herself on the ass to wipe away a speck of dirt. "He took them all, even the animal corpses from the pet cemetery."
"My, my. That little boy sure has been busy," a deep, melodious voice responded, a voice from a women whose husky breath always seemed to be on the brink of orgasm.
Strutting into the dark, drab cemetery came a colorful explosion of feminine sexuality, a busty woman with brilliant auburn hair and revealing green robes that were both skimpy in size and nearly transparent, her only real coverings being a pair of knee-high leather boots with sharp stiletto heels and a heavy emerald cloak. She was a woman of unparalleled beauty and provocation, her every movement a physical expression of deep, penetrating eroticism. This was Nadia Méchant, Sultry Sorceress and Seductress Supreme, a woman who was as desired as she was despised, and as admired as she was feared.
But at the moment it was Nadia who looked afraid, counting the dozens of graves that had been emptied. She bit her succulent lip and hugged her chest, causing her amble bosom to melt around her arms. Her breasts were warm but the air was cold, and her nipples stood out erect and proud.
Nadia's demonic familiar Pussy-pocket strutted over and hugged her mistress, pressing her smirking face into Nadia's breasts and sucking one of the engorged nipples into her mouth. Nadia moaned happily and relaxed, the nervous tension in her body slowly ebbing away.
"Don't worry Mistress," Pussy said, popping off of Nadia's nipple with a mouthful of milk leaking from her lips. "That stupid little Necromancer would need a hundred zombies to challenge you. We're going to kick his faggot ass."
Nadia patted her foul-mouthed demon on the head and faked a smile. By her count Graf did have hundreds of zombies by now, maybe even thousands. She knew such an amateur wizard like Graf would be no match against her in single combat, but assisted by an army of the undead? That was another story. If she could just catch up to the little bastard she could end this, but he was always one step ahead of her, and his army was growing by the day.
"You're right Pussy," Nadia said, pushing her concerns away. "We should keep going. He's probably headed for the Necropolis of Natalia von Nippel next, the Countess who died back during the Great Plague. She's buried with almost a thousand of her subjects. If Graf gets there before we do he may become unstoppable. But first . . ."
Nadia giggled deeply as she pushed Pussy down to her knees while undressing. Some green robes slipped away, revealing a puffy, hot, dripping wet vagina that looked starved for attention. Pussy smiled wickedly and dove in, lapping at the tight folds of her mistress's greedy cunt. They had been on Graf's tail for almost a week, and not once during that time had Nadia gotten a proper fucking, and a week for Nadia without sex was like a lifetime for most people. Pussy knew how horny her mistress got, and she knew how distracting that sexual tension was making her, so she did her best to relieve her mistress's stress at any and every moment she got.
"Oh . . . oh Pussy . . . little bitch . . . I'm cumming!" Nadia moaned, grabbing the back of Pussy's head as her cunt exploded with a wet, almost violent orgasm. Nadia's exquisite buttocks tensed as she came and her nipples pearled with milk, her body gently quivering with the quelled but not yet sated lust that was growing in her.
When Nadia let Pussy go the girl looked up at her with big red eyes and a happy smiled that was dripping with sex. Pussy licked her lips and giggled.
"Let's go," Nadia said, smiling, although not without a small amount of fear.
#####
Nadia and Pussy had to leave their carriage behind when they came to the jagged foothills. Before the Great Plague there had been many well paved roads which led through the hills and up into the mountains where the duchy of Countess Natalia von Nippel rested, but when it became clear that the entire duchy was going to be lost to the plague the king of the land ordered the roads destroyed and buried with boulders, dooming the infected citizens within to a lonely death, but saving the rest of the kingdom from the Plague's grasp.
Sighing loudly, Nadia looked back at her comfortable carriage and wove her hand. The complex magic that had held the vehicle together suddenly unraveled, and the opulent carriage shrunk back into the form Nadia had found it in: a large pumpkin. She waved her hands again and the horses which had pulled the carriage suddenly shrunk as well, once again becoming field mice.
"One of these days I should invest some time in inventing a flying carriage," Nadia mumbled, turning back to the rocky incline and seeing Pussy scampering up the boulders with supernatural speed, slithering from shadow to shadow like a ebony bolt of lightning.
Nadia moaned deeply, rubbing her hands up and down her curvaceous form, lingering on her erect nipples and wide hips as she chanted an incantation beneath her husky breath. A gentle wind enveloped her, blowing her already skimpy robes all about, and lifting her from the ground. With the weightlessness of a sexy snowflake she leapt from rock to rock, never touching the ground with more than the tip of her naked toes.
She planned to scale the entire mountain this way, but then a shadow swept over her, and she looked up.
Nadia gasped. Gliding through the air was a small dragon, 'small' being a relative term as it was easily as large as two beefy mules combined. Nadia ducked behind a rock and strained her eyes to see it in detail. Was it moldy? Skeletal? Rotting? Had Graf managed to resurrect a dead dragon? That was a terrifying thought. And army of zombies was one thing, but a zombie dragon was something fare worse. But no. It was alive, its brilliant emerald scales sparkling in the dim light with vivacious color, and the very intimidating muscle hanging between its legs plump with animalistic hormones. Not only was the dragon built like a mule, it was hung like one as well.
But it wasn't a dragon. It was too stout, too bulky, and instead of four limps and a pair of wings it only possessed a pair of inverted hind-legs, like a bat. Dragons were ancient, magical, intelligent creatures of profound nature. This was a beast . . . an animal . . .
" . . . a wyvern," Nadia gasped.
