Wicked Amusement Ch 02

Note: This story contains elements of lesbian sex, submission, hypnosis, nonconsent, and horror.

~~~~ ~~~~

Larya stared at Alma. Alma stared back, her eyebrows raised, a whimsical smile on her face.

Larya couldn't help but notice Alma's fingers. They were long and slender, complementing a curvaceous figure. They fiddled around with her neckline laces, never quite undoing them, but making it very clear that the laces

could

be undone, and might

be

undone very, very soon if Larya played her cards right. "You are

very

beautiful," Alma repeated. Her dimples rose up as she gave a slight pout. "Do you...think I am beautiful?"

Larya could scarcely breathe. It felt so hot in the cabin. The dozens of glittering silver beads hanging from the ceiling tinkled together in an unfelt breeze. The five larger beads—daemon seeds, Alma had called them—glimmered in the window's light, contained in the little chest.

Larya opened her mouth, wet her lips, and managed something. "Sh-shouldn't you close that?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Alma glanced back. "Oh!" She blinked. "I...It slipped my mind." The dusky-skinned ranger's face went bright red as she sauntered over to the desk. The moment was lost.

Larya cursed herself.

You had to open your big mouth. Now you'll have her on your mind all day.

She watched Alma's hips swaying gently as she walked. Alma had a very distinct hourglass figure, but most of the sand was definitely on the bottom end. Her ass seemed to have a very distinct swing as she came to stand by the desk.

Larya realized her head had tilted to the side as she watched. Had Alma just given a little wiggle? Was Larya being teased?

As Alma walked back, Larya started to attention.

You really need to get laid,

she told herself.

That innkeeper's son had no stamina. Well, not enough, anyways.

The truth was, she wasn't sure what had her in this mood. She'd found that she was getting hornier a lot easier ever since the incident . . . incident

s

with Balabar and Sinthia, but it was never so bad as to keep her from making basic conversation. But Alma had definitely excited her. Larya stared into those bright, earnest eyes, and tried to remember that they would have the whole trip together to find time to spend . . . well, together.

"So," Alma said, smiling. Those freckled dimples were

adorable

. "We should sleep. Tomorrow, I would go with you and help you find that antitoxin."

"Great." Larya giggled nervously. "Can't wait. So..." She looked around. "Do you have two beds?"

Alma's dimples rose up. She walked forward and took Larya by the hand. Her hand was cool. Larya felt something small and smooth pass from Alma's hand to Larya's, but the druidess was lost in that beautiful smile.

"O-oh." Larya realized she was trembling. She needed Alma. She needed her more than she'd ever needed anyone, ever. She needed to get her tongue inside that pussy right fucking now. "Okay, then."

~~~~

"AAAUGH!"

Less than a minute ago, Snatch had been an expert adventurer, cautiously entering the scene of disaster and searching for evidence—and treasure.

In the present, Snatch was hiding higher up in a tree than he'd ever thought he could possibly climb, praying the elk would just give up and run off.

The tree itself was glowing strangely around the leaves. Touching them made his head buzz, so he tried to avoid doing so as much as possible. The trunk and branches were glowing, too, but not as brightly, and they didn't mess with his head quite as much. He watched as the elk took several steps back and ran at the tree again.

Snatch was not a wilderness expert by any means. He actually kind of hated nature. And he was pretty damn sure he had picked the exact wrong tree for the job of escaping a magical deer monster. Silver beads dangled from its antlers, tinkling together, as it let out a curious moaning sound. The tree creaked ominously, the roots beginning to pull out of the soil.

Snatch reached back with one hand and drew out his old scythe. "Fuuuck."

~~~~

Larya's fingers trembled as they grasped the first rung. She could hear Alma up above. The ranger was singing something cooing and sweet—a lullaby, perhaps, in her native tongue. It sounded like she was undressing.

Larya climbed with a frenzy that surprised her, scaling the ladder in seconds. She pushed open the trapdoor and emerged into Alma's bedroom. It wasn't a fancy room by any means—it was essentially an attic; the roof's boards and the ceiling's were one and the same. The strands of silver beads hung from the rafters here as well. Such curious ornaments. The floor was strewn with clothes and papers. The space was incredibly cramped, with most of its mass taken up by the ratty old mattress itself.

But Larya's eyes were instantly drawn to Alma herself, seated crosslegged upon that old mattress. The young woman smiled at her, her eyes sparkling with temptation. Her brown skin stood out sharply against the pale silvery dress she now wore. Her breasts were practically bursting from the corset. It slinked down her narrow waist and hugged her wide hips tightly.

Alma spread her legs. "You never answered my question, Larya."

"Wuh. Wh—huh?" Larya rubbed her legs together, suddenly rather self-conscious about her own plain attire.

Alma's hands slid down her body, paying especial attention to her impressive bust. "Do you think I am beautiful, Larya?"

Larya's mouth was dry. "You're the most . . . most . . ."

Larya had never seen a human woman so beautiful. Not since the succubus had she seen a body that drew her like this, and succubi always cheated. She took a step forward.

"Hush, Larya." Alma's dimples rose up in mirth, flushed with excitement. "Make me feel what you can't make me hear."

"Wha'?" Larya tore her eyes away from Alma's eyes to look down at Alma's hands, which were now wrapping around the dress, pulling it up her waist, exposing more and more of her thighs to Larya's hungry eyes.

"Tell me . . ." Alma breathed, "with your tongue."

"I—I don't—"

Alma's legs spread wider, and Larya saw her perfect, shaved pussy. "Get on your knees, Larya."

Larya knelt. She leaned in, smelling Alma's wetness, feeling privately elated that Alma

was

wet, that she was as excited by Larya as Larya was by Alma. She smelled like fresh wood shavings, like a young pine that had just been felled. Larya could barely breathe. It had been so long since she had lain with someone . . . dominant.

"Lick," Alma moaned. Larya realized just how desperate Alma was for this. Realized just how desperate

she

was for it.

She leaned in and delicately flicked her tongue around Alma's tender lips. A little gasp from above told her she was doing it right. She felt Alma replace the dress, wrapping it over Larya's head, smothering her between Alma's thighs.

Taking the hint, Larya pushed herself up closer, feeling the wetness brush by her nose. It felt even hotter underneath Alma's dress, but it also felt

right

. She started to lick. She licked over the outer lips, teasing Alma, making Alma gasp and whine.

She darted her tongue up, smiling as Alma's whines hit a different octave. "Y-yes," Alma said, as Larya teased around the clit. "Oh, fuck yes, you little—little minx—"

The thighs tightened around Larya's head, pushing her face further into Alma's pussy. Larya struggled for a second, startled, but quickly recognized and acceded to Alma's unspoken command.

No more playing.

Larya started to lap over the clit, kissing it lovingly. She brought her hands up beside her cheeks and tickled Alma's inner thighs, feeling that soft, smooth skin, feeling Alma twitch under her touches.

"Oh, fuck," she heard Alma whisper as she started to gently suck the slit. "Oh, fuck yes. Yes.

Yes.

Lick my clit! Oh,

yes!

" Larya felt hands above grip her hair through the dress, pushing her deeper in.

Larya could barely breath. All she could smell was the sweat and musk of the ranger in heat. She licked as though Alma's juices were the only source of air she had. Her head was buzzing in arousal and, she dimly recognized, oxygen deprivation. But she kept slurping Alma's pussy until Alma started to shake all over, until juices started to gush out and cover Larya's face, bathing her in the smell and taste of sex.

Alma's screams begged her,

commanded

her to continue, and so she didn't stop, even when her head started to pound. They called her a slut, a whore, and Larya knew this was something they had both needed. Alma needed to command. Larya needed to lick. And serve. And make Alma come again, make those thighs lock around her head again, make Alma squeal and scream until her throat was hoarse.

At some point, Larya blacked out. Or perhaps she was just dizzy from excitement. When her awareness returned, she realized her fingers were up her own skirt, realized that she had climaxed, and realized that Alma had pulled her onto the bed.

She stared into Alma's silver eyes, her own eyes wide with need. Her hands and face were sticky, her body trembling, and she didn't feel like she'd come in weeks.

Alma smirked. She leaned in and kissed Larya, taking the petite druidess in her arms and thrusting her tongue into Larya's mouth. Larya tried to reciprocate, but she could barely breathe, could barely think straight. She just ran her hands over Alma's sweaty body, feeling that slinky dress, and let Alma explore her.

Alma's lips traveled along Larya's face, bathing Larya in messy kisses along her cheek, her neck, her neckline. Then she broke off and looked up at Larya.

Larya was panting. Alma was, too, lying just slightly lower than her on the bed. "Take off your clothes," Alma said softly.

Larya nodded and obeyed. She pulled off her plain white shirt, followed by her brassiere. Her pendulous breasts bounced from the sudden motion as she tore their bindings off. Alma watched them, and Larya was excited to see how pleased she looked. Alma reached forward and ran a hand over one of the smooth orbs. Larya shivered at her touch, but did not slow.

She reached down and pulled down her brown skirt. She was dressed so simply compared to Alma. It was almost a relief to be naked, to make their imbalance more pure. She didn't even think as she pulled off her panties. Alma's rough hand on her breast was much closer to her mind.

"You can touch mine," Alma whispered, almost cooed, as she reached forward and started kissing Larya's neck, alternating licks and suckles, as well as the odd nip. Her hand had not left Larya's breasts, either.

Larya moaned as the fingers gave a nipple a tweak. She wasn't sure what compelled her, but she found herself leaning forward—not with her hands, but with her head, ducking out of Alma's wet kisses and bringing her mouth down to those beautiful breasts. They were still bound by the dress, but Larya didn't hesitate, ripping the bodice down with her teeth and wrapping her mouth around a pert nipple.

"Oh!" Alma gave a jerk as Larya started to suck. "Oh, you—you want that, do you?" Larya moaned her agreement, bringing her face between the breasts and kissing between the opulent orbs. There was something so decadent about it. She did not deserve Alma. But here she was, lying next to Larya, hers for the taking.

Larya squeaked with surprise as she realized Alma was lifting her up. She lost her grip on the nipple and let out a brief whimper. She almost came just at the patheticness of her sound.

Alma raised her up again, locking her into that silver gaze. "You want all of it."

"Yes!" Larya whined. She tried to slide back down toward Alma's breasts, toward her cunt, toward

anything

, but Alma held her in a firm grip. She wore a triumphant smile. Larya was Alma's, and she would go where the ranger willed her.

"Then take it," Alma said. And she pushed Larya up higher, crawled down, along Larya's naked body—

"Oh!" Larya's eyes widened. She shook all over as Alma pulled her sticky thighs open. She cried out as Alma's tongue entered her slit. "Oh, please, yes, thank you!

Yes! Oh, yeEEes!

"

Alma seemed to know exactly where to lick to make Larya scream. And she made her scream. Larya bucked and thrashed, her eyes turning wild, gripped by Alma's iron embrace as that tongue probed inside her, mercilessly attacking her most sensitive regions. She begged Alma to stop. She begged Alma to never stop. She went beyond words and just squealed in glee as she came, and came, and—

—and then something strange happened. Just as Larya felt like the orgasm was subsiding—just as it seemed Alma was pulling out, would move back up and let Larya repay her for this wonderful feeling—she felt something cool slip inside her. She blinked, looking down. Alma's head was out from Larya's crotch, but her her hands were both between her legs. She looked up at Larya and grinned. Her face, her lips, were sticky with Larya's juices. Larya realized hers were sticky with Alma's own.

Then Alma climbed up and let Larya taste.

As the kiss went on and on, Larya started to feel an intense . . . vibration from below. Her heart hammered in her chest. She started struggling, wanting to see what it was, to find the alien thing that was driving her senses mad with bliss, to shove it deeper and deeper inside her until she couldn't tell blue from red.

But Alma still held her. The vibration got more and more intense, as did the pleasure, and Larya's lips and tongue were all over Alma. Larya tasted sweet, and her sweetness mingled with Alma's spiciness as they devoured each other.

All the while, the buzzing grew and grew. It was unlike anything Larya had ever felt. Not even a runerod could match this this. This felt like it was stimulating her entire body, from her sensitive nipples to her soft, wet lips to her mewling pussy. She was cumming, she vaguely registered. She couldn't even tell one orgasm from the rest anymore. Everything was pleasure. Everything was Alma. Everything was buzzing.

Eventually, the pleasure became too great, and then everything was darkness.

~~~~

The forest was totally silent when Larya's consciousness returned. No birds tweeted. No wind rushed through the leaves above. Only the creaking of the mattress's old springs alerted her to any sort of existence at all.

She opened her eyes. It was dark, but she was pretty sure she was still in Alma's bedroom. She was sticky all over from sweat and juices. The smells of their sexes hung in the stale air, pine shavings and sliced pears mingling, filling her head with intoxicating memories.

She felt strange. Full. Stuffed. Her head started spinning as she pushed herself up, and she had to fight to keep from drifting right back down into the itchy blankets.

Still in a daze, she got up and bumped her head on the roof. "Ow," she muttered. She hadn't hit it hard, at least. Or maybe she was just numb. She felt kind of numb. Nothing felt totally real.

She made her way towards where she remembered the trapdoor had been, stepping on discarded clothes and papers as she went.

Something wet squished against her toes. Stooping down, Larya felt a pair of wet panties. Not her own.

So Alma had been wet when she'd changed into that gorgeous dress. Larya felt her heart flutter with pride.

A part of Larya felt embarrassed about climbing back down in the nude. Most of her didn't mind. She was more embarrassed, she realized, about falling unconscious early. That

never

happened to her—Larya knew she had excellent stamina. She just hadn't had a true dom in so long, clearly. She hoped Alma hadn't been disappointed with her.

No, there was no problem with going around naked. It was nothing Alma hadn't already seen. Besides, it might serve as an invitation for further excitement. Larya realized that their encounter had done absolutely nothing to curb her enthusiasm. She frowned.

Gods, why am I so . . . horny all the time?

She hadn't ever been much of a prude, of course. But she'd never been like

this

. She'd spent the last two days of travel fucking everyone in sight—the fairies, that woodsman, a pair of merchant ladies who'd given them directions, the innkeeper's son, and now, of course, her wonderful Alma. Basically, everyone except Snatch. And really, that meant everyone.

What had Balabar done to her?

She struggled for a moment with the trapdoor's latch. Her head had started buzzing, and it took her another moment to realize why: She'd gotten her arm tangled in one of those dangling bead strands.

She giggled, removing her arm. Of course. Silly of her. Her head stopped buzzing as soon as she disentangled herself, and she paid the beads no more heed as she opened the hatch.

The room below was awash in a strange silver glow, though it was still nighttime, and Larya couldn't see any lamps or torches. She could hear Alma humming. It sounded likee the same strange lullaby from before.

Climbing the ladder was surprisingly easy, considering the trance she was in. It was as easy as walking, really. Except for one point, close to the top. The idea had come into her head to at least get her clothes, since they could probably do with some washing while the "spills" were fresh. But the second she reached for a higher rung, another dizzy spell took her, and she had to quickly seize one lower down just to regain her balance.

"Oh, hello, there, sleepyhead!" she heard Alma say, her voice sweet and melodic. "Just climb on down. Come on, then. Come closer to me,

mi víctema pequiña

."

Moving down was easier. Moving towards Alma felt simple. Natural. So she did as her instincts told her—as Alma told her—and before she knew it, she was in Alma's arms.

Alma had caught her as she'd jumped from the last rung. Or maybe Alma had picked her up. Or maybe she'd told Larya to jump. Larya's hand went toward her head. Everything felt so strange.

Alma caught the hand before it could complete its journey. She smiled at her, sending Larya's mind reeling yet again. "

No tepreocupas, diabla caballito de mi tilaraña.

" The sweet words rolled off her tongue like plinking notes off a piano's keys, and though Larya couldn't understand their particulars, she understood Alma's core meaning:

Don't worry, my darling. Just do as I say.

For now, doing as Alma said felt like all Larya ever wanted to do. Anything to keep Alma touching her like this, controlling her like this. Larya smiled and batted her eyelashes. "What's that?" she asked, nodding to the thing in Alma's hand. It was small and metally. A runerod? Her heart pounded at the possibility of another go-around.

But no. It was a key. She frowned. "What's it to?"

Alma smiled. "A box."

"Oh. Okay." Larya had to fight through her daze to realize that that wasn't a real answer. And in that moment of clarity, she understood that it was answer enough. She looked blearily toward the dangling silver beads. "Wait."

"Hm?" Alma leaned up and kissed Larya. Her plush lips were still sweet from Larya's juices. Larya returned the kiss without thinking. It was sensuous, loving, soft and sweet and blinding. As Alma pulled away, her smile seemed to be a bit smug. "Isn't it so hard to think, Larya?"

Larya's eyelashes fluttered again, but this time because she was trying to remember what she'd been about to say. "So hard," she mumbled. "Hard to think. My . . . you . . . you

did

something."

"Me?" Alma blinked, but even Larya could tell that her expression of hurt was mocking. "You're so silly and horny right now, Larya. Leave the thinking to me. It's so hard to think."

"N-no." Larya pulled away from Alma's grasp. Her attempt was as feeble as a shaking leaf, but Alma seemed to be caught off-guard by it, allowing Larya to back away towards the wall. "You . . . that key is to the daemon seeds, isn't it?"