Time for a reckoning with the Queen of Dilly... and a desperate recovery of Lady Corsa before something terrible happens to her.
This one's a little shorter than usual, but that's part of the design leading up to the next, final, chapter.
"Now that I have your attention where it belongs," the Queen said. "Lose the robe. Then we can properly negotiate affairs of state."
John stared at her. Her massive tits defied gravity and reason. Had the brazier hung from the ceiling and not rested in the middle of the room her lower body would have been shadowed.
Queen Jaspara pointed where Artesia stood. "Your woman can watch from over there. Maybe she'd like to pleasure herself... I do enjoy an audience. Perhaps she could even... no, not my first time with you. I don't want to be distracted."
John stood firm, testing the limits of her power. His part-demon nature was stymied by her wards. Her she was too powerful for him. Too powerful for even lesser infernals like Zynga. Was this why Mistress had sent him too her, for fear that even she couldn't overpower her in her sanctum?
"John, this stalemate is getting tiresome. I've threatened your lady but that doesn't sway you. Perhaps I should just kill her? I have no use for her and, as a woman with no interest in me, I cannot take her soul."
"No!" Just shouted. "Leave her be."
"But John... I don't like it when I don't get my way," she pouted. She smiled and slid her hands up her sides "I know, I bet you need a little more encouragement."
John watched her slid her hands up her sides and cup her breasts. They didn't fit in her palms but that didn't stop her. She caressed her firm flesh and then twirled her fingers around her ripe nipples. They were already hard enough John feared she might put his eye out if she came too close. Now that she was pulling and pinching them they grew a rosy red and looked ready to burst.
His vision blurred. He had to shake his head and remember to focus his demon-sight to realize her magic was oozing from her buds and coming straight at him. It struck him and spread out, slipping under his robe and covering and caressing him like warm sin. His cock rose against his wishes and throbbed his robe up and down in a steady beat with his heart.
"Oh my... is that for me?" Jaspara cooed.
Her magic tickled his balls even as his own refused it entry to his person. Her resourcefulness was impressive.
"What are you?" he gasped.
"I'm just a lonely, wanton, woman, John. I've never been satisfied, not fully. Won't you try to sate me? Fill me up John. Make me yours... you'll never be wanting again. I'll let you do things to me that Lady Corsa hasn't even imagined. The basest of whores won't compare to what you can do with me. To me. In me or on me.
"Oh John, I understand now... I really do. You're special. Very, very special," she continued as she sensuously glided across the floor toward him. She was seven steps away and then five. Four. Three. Two. Then she was in front of him and looking up into his eyes while one hand pinched her nipple and the other slid back down her body.
He lost sight of her other hand as it dropped below her breasts, but only for a moment. It returned, lifting up and then gliding across his lips and sharing heat and wetness. Her heat and wetness. Her musk hit him and made him gasp. With his lips parted, she slipped her fingers inside his mouth.
Her taste shattered his mind. Only for a moment, but that impossible combination of sweetness with smoke and musk was very nearly life-altering. He pulled himself back from the brink of lust-filled madness and found himself sucking on her fingers, trying to get every last drop of her flavor. His robe was stuck to his cock, pre-cum wetting the material.
"Will you fuck me now, John?" she breathed. Even her breath was intoxicating. "I want to feel that massive cock pounding deep inside of me. Split me on it, John. Shove it anywhere you want and make me scream. No, not anywhere... everywhere!"
A voice echoed deep in John's mind. It was distant, as though thousands of miles away, but he recognized it without delay. Beytrixxa, his Mistress. She'd give him his orders: "...bring her to my service. Bring her... or destroy her."
And here was Jaspara was begging him to fuck her. To destroy her. Was this a self-fulfilling prophecy?
John reached up and pulled her fingers out of his mouth.
Jaspara's eyes went wide. Her saw thrill and fear and excitement. She'd perfected her role. He knew she felt no fear, only the excitement. She assumed John was like every other man. Just another conquest, albeit one with powers not so different from her own.
Except when he pulled her hand out of her mouth he saw something new. He saw uncertainty.
John nodded. He leaned his spear against the wall next to Artesia. Her let go of Jaspara's hand and lifted his robe up and pulled it over his head so that he stood nude before her.
Jaspara's eyes dropped to his cock. Her lips parted and her eyes widened. "Oh... John!" she breathed.
"Prove you're the whore you claim to be," John growled.
She sucked in a breath and jerked her head up to look at him.
"Take me in your mouth. Swallow it. All of it."
A whimper escaped her lips. She sank to her knees and slid her hands up his legs and took him in her hands. Her soft and hot hands. She squeezed and stroked him, earning herself a glistening drop that her tongue darted out to catch. She moaned and licked her lips, savoring his flavor until she couldn't taste anymore. She attacked him then, opening her lips and plunging them over him while she stroked his manhood to try and coax more into her mouth.
