Wicked Amusement Ch 04

Note: This story contains elements of domination, drugged/mind controlled nonconsent, lesbian sex, and gangsters.

"There is no need for them to remember any of it," Pellesise said, chuckling. The elf took a little puff from the hookah pipe and passed it on. "What putty in our claws. Humans!"

"Aw, what a shame." Illetris gave a half-joking pout. "I was hoping Her Wisdom would be willing to let me keep him."

"Really?" Isamine giggled. The youngest of the three elves tossed her braided blonde pigtails back, showing off her long, pointed ears—one of which was visibly red, as if someone had been nibbling on it particularly fiercely. "The human man? He didn't seem like much. That 'Larya' girly—oh, she knew how to

tumble

. What's so special about Stocky?"

The three elven prostitutes were gathered in one of the Celestian apartments. The apartment was, like most elven homes, lavishly decorated well beyond any of their means, with tapestries, fine carpeting, and one very big, very soft bed. Illetris took a little puff from the hookah and closed her eyes, letting the Gancanagh smoke do its work. She smiled faintly. "He has a ... rugged sort of charm to him, I suppose."

"A rugged charm!" Pellesise fanned herself with one hand, only half-joking. "They're so

rough

, these humans. I'd swear he kept thrusting into you for

ten minutes

after we finished with him."

"And wasn't it a delight?" Illetris smirked and passed the hookah on to Isamine. "Watching his will crumble. You gotta love the smoke."

"Mm-hm!" Isamine took the hookah and took a deep puff. Illetris and Pellesise exchanged knowing looks as they watched the petite blonde struggle. She coughed for a moment before recovering. "Mm-hm!" she managed.

"You doing okay there, Izzy?" Illetris asked teasingly.

"Mm-hm!" 'Izzy' said again, but it was more of a murmur this time. She passed the hookah to Pellesise. Pellesise paused a moment, then, without inhaling, passed it on to Illetris. Illetris passed it right back to Isamine.

Isamine frowned, blinking heavily-lidded eyes at the proffered pipe. Her mind was clearly trying to decide whether or not the hookah had come back to her suspiciously quickly this time. But she'd already taken a few breaths of the smoke, and her low tolerance was legendary. She giggled again and took another puff. Again, it was deeper than it needed to be.

"So you do think they'll wipe the minds, do you?" Illetris asked. "A pity. I was looking forward to training my new

pet

." She reached over and caressed Isamine's shoulder, letting her hand creep under Isamine's shirt to touch bare skin. She knew Isamine wouldn't object. If she was too dazed to object to her much-hated nickname...

"Well, that'll be up to Cellesixe," Pellesise said with a shrug. She passed the hookah without use over to Illetris, who, after a moment, passed it to Isamine again. Isamine stared blearily at the hookah, then up at her two roommates, who just nodded and smiled encouragingly. "But I can't see why she wouldn't. The Family doesn't care for random outsiders coming around and asking questions without invitations, do they? I mean, unless she has a

use

for them ..."

They both watched, sharklike, as the hapless Isamine took another deep puff. Her eyelids were fluttering now. Isamine coughed, then leaned over to rest her head on Illetris's shoulder. Illetris let her hand start to roam down towards Isamine's chest, sharing a knowing grin with Pellesise. "And after

this

," she said, nodding to their increasingly drowsy roommate, "I suppose we should go see to that fitting."

"Mm?" Isamine swallowed, looking between them with much evident nervousness and no evident energy to act on it.

"Merchant, right? Didn't pay his dues?"

"Honey shoes."

"Mm." Isamine shook her head dimly as Pellesise pushed the hookah towards her. "No, I'm ..."

"Go on, Isamine," Illetris cooed, letting her smooth fingers graze over Isamine's pert nipples. "We're your friends, remember? Just one more

puff

."

Isamine shook her head again, but with less conviction, and when the hookah was offered again, she relented. She took a long, deep pull, and giggled, her voice a bit higher-pitched now. The unease was gone. "Honey shoes. I love . . . fitting them."

"And we love what you love," Illetris hissed. She brought her fingers to delicately tickle one nipple. "So, Izzy . . ."

"Mmm." Isamine looked up at her, red-rimmed eyes full of lust. There was a vague understanding of her predicament, perhaps even a faint memory that this was not the first time she'd been played like this, but that only made it all the more delicious for her captors.

"Do you love this?" Pellesise asked, almost mockingly, as she stroked a hand up Isamine's thigh, pushing up the younger elf's skirt for easy access.

They watched Izzy's eyes widen, and watched her start to slowly whisper her answer.

There were few true loyalties within the Celestial family. Just alliances that lasted until one party showed weakness—or, in Izzy's case, servitude that the servant mistook for alliance. This was not the first time she had fallen afoul of the smoke.

There was no need for Isamine to remember any of this.

~~~~

Larya awoke to find her hands and feet bound and her naked ass seated directly on the lap of an elf man who had recently been licking her to orgasm.

They were sitting on a comfy chair in what looked like a rather nice study. Nearby was an unoccupied desk.

"Good morning," said the elf pleasantly. She stared at his silver eyes with wearied wariness. "I hope you, er, slept alright. All things considered." He gave a sly wink.

"Uh—um." She stared at him, her mouth dry. She was bound. Naked. Her long dark hair was sweaty and tangled. The elf was wearing a dark suit, and his long dark hair was done up in elaborate braids that highlighted his pointed ears. He was quite muscular, she could tell, and his bulge was easy to feel through his pants. He had every advantage. Including the fact that she was still very, very horny.

"Sorry about the mummery prior," he said. "Her Wisdom said you were important clients who liked it, er, tricky. Only explained the full story after."

"What?"

He squirmed for a moment, to her intense discomfort (and repressed delight), then sighed. "Name's Cellemin. Nephew of Cellesixe. We thought you were clients." He held up a hand. "Don't get me wrong. If Cellesixe tells me to jump, I say how high. But don't mean I've got to like it. I usually stay on the pleasant side of the family business."

She stared at him. Nothing here made much sense. "You're . . . you and the woman—"

"Isamine." He nodded. "Sweet thing. Bit trusting, of course, but that just makes her sweeter. Too good for the likes of us. Then again, most everyone is." He poked her bare shoulder. "Yourself included, druidess."

"You two seduced me. For Cellesixe."

He shrugged. "I'm not supposed to talk about it. Suffice to say—" He stopped as Larya heard a door slam from nearby. She heard footsteps pass by the study's door, but they continued on past. "Well, suffice to say she has you and that scruffy guy right where she wants you."

"Great." Larya grimaced.

"Hey." He jabbed her again. "It was nice, right? Never met a human with your . . . hunger. You enjoyed it. And at least we didn't have to drug you, like we did Scruffy."

"You drugged Scruffy? I mean, Snatch?" Larya blinked.

"Oh, yeah. Nasty business." Cellemin's was the sort of laugh Larya guessed he might give about a dog dying: Brisk and genuine, but sharp, dredged out only for an alternative to darker emotions. "But so's killing people, so, I mean, he got off easy. Point is, Miss,

you

had fun. That's all that matters."

"Really?" She rolled her eyes. "Because if I'm due for a honey fitting—"

He winced. "Hm."

She stopped short. "What?"

"Just . . ." Cellemin squirmed again, clearly uncomfortable. "Thinking about you getting a honey fitting . . . kinda gets you wet, don't it?"

Larya felt her face grow hot. She stared into his gray eyes. They reminded her of pebbles by the riverbed. Common, unremarkable, but alluring in a strange, pretty way.

"They'll take a couple minutes," he murmured. "I'd, er, kinda like you to pay me back for the job I did on you earlier. I've been hard ever since, and I did work hard with you. 'Course, only if you feel like it. You don't really owe me anything." And then he gave a smile. A smug, insufferable smile that indicated he'd already assumed what her answer would be.

Larya realized she was already sinking out of his lap and to her knees.

He was hard. And big. Bigger than anyone she'd ever taken. She could barely take in his full length, and nearly gagged doing so. But she did take it. Her lips wrapped up along the shaft and almost to the base. She kissed and licked at his long, clean cock, clutching both his knees for support, and sucked him like a cambion street whore.

She couldn't believe she was doing this. Her mind reeled from the contradictions. He was an enemy, a

gangster

, for pity's sake—albeit an oddly amicable one. It wasn't that he wasn't hot. He was fucking gorgeous. But there wasn't any mind control here. It was her choice.

She looked up at Cellemin, her lips locked hungrily around his shaft as though it was a prize to hold onto at any cost. His eyes were tightly shut, and he was whispering words in the convoluted elven tongue under his breath. His speech was slurred; she could positively hear the apostrophes being left off, the accents being unstressed. His fists were clenched.

On impulse, she reached up, took one of his hands, and guided it to her head. His eyes opened, and he stared at her with a wild, almost inhuman hunger.

And then her mind went into a storm of colors and sensation as he began to fuck her face. He pounded into her, wielding her head like a common sex toy, and she loved it. She

loved

it. She gasped and moaned into his cock, loving the feeling of being used, loving the sweet taste of his precum, loving the knowledge that this was what she was. A sex toy. A slut. A common whore little better than a horny cambion.

It was surprisingly easy to swallow when he came. It was all so rhythmic, all so timed. He screamed as his hands went limp, as all his energy seemed to go into his bucking hips. She pulled her lips up until she was just kissing his head, gripped his shaft in nimble fingers, and milked him for all she was worth.

And then something made sense to her. Something in his cum, something about the taste. A memory flashed into her sex-crazed mind mind, a strange eye of clarity in the hurricane of lust. Her mind entered a whirl of memory.

~~~~

Larya found herself gazing up at a tall, very delicate-looking woman with long, pointed ears. The woman had long tresses of emerald-green hair hanging down well past her shoulders, complementing brilliant green eyes. She was beautiful. She was a mistress. She was a goddess.

She was stark naked, and glistening with sweat. Her delicious musk filled Larya's nostrils, filled her with an awareness of just what the nymph had been doing to her Master just recently. Sinthia's eyes were dull and vague, bound by servitude to their wonderful, perfect Master, Balabar. But they possessed an independent sparkle of cruel capriciousness as she looked upon her human plaything.

"Having fun, bimbo

?" she sang.

"Mm . . ." Larya's mind was a haze. She didn't think. Thinking made it harder to please her Master, and pleasing her Master meant pleasure, perfect pure white-hot pleasure forever and ever and a day. She let her pussy think for her instead, giving a whine and spreading her legs wide. She wanted Sinthia to have a perfect view of her shaven pussy. She wanted Sinthia to be pleased with her. To want her. Larya's breasts heaved with desire as she gazed up at Sinthia. The nymph was Balabar's slave, but Larya was just as much Sinthia's slave. She melted at the slightest look, the slightest touch. She was a bimbo, her

Master'

s bimbo. It was her nature to submit.

Sinthia leaned down, inspecting her captive, and giggled. "Are we a horny wittle bimbo?" she cooed.

"Yes!" Larya wriggled, reaching up and cupping her breasts, rubbing her pointy nipples with a soft desperation. She whimpered. "Yes, we are. Um. We is. No. Um. Um..." She struggled to find the words. It was so hard to think.

"Stupid little bimbo," Sinthia hissed. She leaned closer. "Lick," she said, her voice dripping with arousal.

Larya stiffened. Yes. Licking would be so much easier than thinking. But . . .

"Lick." Larya shivered. No. That wasn't . . . nymphs were . . .

The nymph reached forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her up into a sitting position. Larya gazed right into Sinthia's hot, wet pussy, and found herself entranced. Her head tilted. Her mouth opened partway. It was so pretty. And those folds smelled so . . . nice.

"Lick

, little wet

bimbo

."

As the word pounded into her like a twelve-inch runerod, Larya felt her mind melt into goo. And that was good. She found herself smiling. Yes. Bimbos weren't supposed to think.

They were supposed to lick.

The bimbo surged forward to fulfill her purpose.

Larya fell off Cellemin's cock and landed limply on the carpeted floor. Her face was clean. She'd swallowed every drop.

"Shit," she whispered. She blinked as tears trailed sideways down her face. "Shit, shit, shit."

Nymph juices. Nymph juices were like nothing else in the world. Everyone knew the tale of the Knight and the Flower Maiden. She had licked Sinthia, back in the Greatest, Darkest Forest. She had infected herself. That was why she was horny now, 24/7. And now . . .

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping at her eyes with one sweaty hand.

Cellemin was looking down at her, a bemused expression on his handsome face. "You know, maybe I've been lucky, but this isn't usually how it goes afterward."

She let out a hoarse laugh. She tried to speak, but her voice failed her.

Nymph juices filled their victim with an overpowering lust for contact. Any who drank of them orally would become infected, and the victim would always crave sexual contact of all kinds—especially oral sex. And it could spread. Larya struggled to remember; she'd lain with so many since Balabar. Had any of them . . . drank?

The fairies had. And now that she thought of it, that was probably why they'd been so . . . eager.

Why didn't they tell me?

The woodsman. No, he'd rammed her right and proper. She didn't

think

that could cause any permanent troubles, could it?

The merchant ladies. She had to really think here. She'd licked them both, of course. And she definitely hadn't left empty. But . . . no, they'd had the runerods. They'd filled her in both ends, but not with tongues.

She shuddered. So she hadn't ruin anyone's lives or anything. Except, of course . . .

"I'm sorry," she said again, louder. She got up. "I . . . I don't know how to explain this."

"Explain what?" Cellemin raised an eyebrow.

"You . . . You licked me. I h-have nymph juices." She took a deep breath. "I didn't think. I didn't know. I barely know anything about fey, but there's a fairy tale I know, so I

should

have—should have...what? What's so funny?"

Cellemin was stifling his giggles with a hand. He shrugged and shook his head. "Oh, heavens. Don't you worry about that, darling. You didn't do anything so awful to me."

"But I—"

"Infected me with nymph juices?" He laughed openly this time. It was the same dead-dog laugh. "I got in a run-in with a succubus when I was . . . well, in human equivalents, in my early teens."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah." Cellemin pulled up his pants and started re-lacing them. "It's not a good memory. And it sort of is." He grimaced. "You can probably guess it's complicated." He patted his crotch, but almost nervously, as though patting a barely-tame guard mastiff. "She left a little curse on me. Basically does what those juices of yours do. You can't screw up what's already, er, screwed."

She blinked. "I'm sorry."

"Ah, see, that's what I'm talking about." He stood up. "A little bit of

sympathy

would've been nice back then, instead of asshole jokes about how

lucky

I was." His tone remained light, but Larya could tell just how strongly he meant the words. "Don't let anybody tell you shit like this is a blessing. There's enjoying sex, and there's being enjoyed. They aren't the same thing."

"Hm." Larya didn't know what to say. He clearly didn't want to break down, so she tried to keep her tone neutral. "So that's why you wanted a blowjob from me."

"Hey." He shrugged as he started walking towards the door. "I don't get much action around there very often. Too risky with the curse. Still, we both enjoyed it, right?"

She found herself smiling. "I did."

"Then that's what matters." He glanced back and grinned. "Y'know, I like you, Larya. Kinda makes me feel shitty about what's about to happen."

"What? What is?"

He opened the door and gave Larya a slight bow before walking out. "They'll be here in about a minute. Don't say no to anything. Don't argue. Don't barter. Don't frown. Don't complain. You and your scruffy partner only get one shot, druid."

Larya opened her mouth to ask another question.

"Best of luck." The door slammed shut.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Cellesixe entered the room. The family matriarch was dressed in a different dress, every bit as opulent as the last, and accompanied by two elven women. The latter were a bit rougher than the elves Larya had seen thus far. They were less slender than they were wiry, and though they were attractive, they definitely weren't trying to be. Thugs. Real thugs, not the morally bankrupt prostitute seducers of the Cooing Wraith. They each gripped an arm of a limp Snatch, who was, unusually for him, allowing himself to be led without complaint. His eyes were red-rimmed. Larya blinked. What happened to him? And why're his eyes so . . .

"You will remember this," Cellesixe said, dropping behind the desk. She flicked a finger, and the strange fibrous mass of the building shot through the rug, catching her on a rapidly-forming armchair. She smiled at the two of them, but it was clearly all business this time. "I want you to know what we can do."

"Wh . . . what?" Larya sat in the armchair across the desk from Cellesixe. She was still naked, and she didn't much like the way Cellesixe was . . . studying her.

"You gave in." Cellesixe smirked. "They always do. They say they don't want it, but . . . Well, everyone wants."

Larya glanced at Snatch, who was uncharacteristically silent and characteristically sullen. "You planned all of this," she said. She'd worked that out ages ago, of course, but she was still irritated about it. "You took us in there and . . . and all to make a point!"

"You're sharper than you look." Cellesixe gave a thin predatory grin. "Pity. You really look the bimbo type, you know."

Despite herself, Larya flinched. Cellesixe couldn't possibly know about the associations, but it still had an effect. When the bell rings, the hound drools, she thought drily.

"Anyways, yes. To make a point. I wanted us all to be very clear about who's in charge here." Cellesixe clasped her hands together. "Larya. Snatch—I know that's not your real name, but I'll allow you to keep your secrets for now." Her eyes glittered. "Elves aren't fey. We don't have any sort of real mind control, aside from our own beauty. And you must admit, that's a serious asset."

She winked at Larya, who averted her gaze. Cellesixe sounded unperturbed as she continued. "But we have no real way to control you aside from basic facts. I wanted you to know that if I wanted you . . . " She snapped her fingers. "I would have you. Just like that."