Dream a Little Dream Of - Chapter 4 - Part 3

Chapter 4 - Part 3

He was just above eye level now to her spread crotch. Her labia sheened with arousal, little beads clung to her thatch and the sheets she sat upon were sodden. Her heady musk spurred unwanted desires and his primed cock strained with need. What had she done to him? What more could she do? The slaver shivered and shied away, "Please, no."

"There there, sweetie. Don't break yet, you've so much more to lose," the man let out a sob, "Winstad: don't cry. You look fucking horrific. Now get up on the bed and lie down."

Strings tugged, he did as he was told; rested his head on a pillow and stared up at the flickering candlelit ceiling. The witch lay down next to him, propping herself up on an elbow and brandishing his knife. Winstad swallowed but did not flinch away. He wondered if he had simply run out of fear. Did she actually mean to kill him? Wearily he doubted it, expecting it to more likely torture now. She rested the blade flat against his chest and he held his breath. Then she went to work on the remnants of his clothes.

"Ooh irony," she teased, "You were saying that by raping me and then selling me into slavery would save me? Hmm, the bullshit we weave to justify our dirty deeds. I want you to know that you have saved me, Winstad. You saved me from my boredom. Hell, I might even be able to go for more than a week before getting antsy again. So, thanks."

Marenda peeled the shorn clothing off him and slid atop him so that their naked chests were pressed together and her pussy smeared its juice along his abdomen. He could not help but look down at the girl pressing herself lewdly against him and catch a peek of nipple. Despite her slenderness she still possessed cambers so smooth that they would no doubt be outlawed in the theocratic kingdoms to the north. The curves of her hips melted into her ass and how was this devil still attractive to him?

He scrunched his eyes shut in dismay only have them shoot back open when he felt her mons brush the tip of his cock. The witch rolled her hips several times so that their sexes met with feather light pressure. His fists clenched as she rewound his tension. Gods, were they actually going to fuck? Could he take it?

"Winstad, before I lobotomize you I've got a few questions. Firstly, that was a fucking set up right?"

Too befuddled to notice if he had been compelled or not he answered honestly regardless, "Yes."

"Ha! I fucking knew it!" she jumped and his shaft was forced upon the groove of her sex, "Cool. Two; do you want to die?"

"No," he really did not.

"That's good. You mustn't off yourself once we're through, it'd be a terrible waste. And lastly; do you want to fuck?"

"...Yes," more than he wanted to escape, damn him.

The smile she gave him was almost shy as she shifted her hips in attempt to line up their genders. Her sopping vulva found his tip again and Marenda's eyes fluttered as she brought him just inside of her. The smooth resistance of his entry was perfection and his hips jumped of their own volition gaining deeper purchase.

Though in bliss he had closed his eyes, he had the distinct impression that she was watching his face as she completed her descent so that his penis was fully sheathed.

The witch was tight and unreasonably wet, and the fact that she was not as warm as other girls did not bother his snug dick in the slightest. Especially not when she leaned back and arched her back lending prominence to her petite tits. She rode him lazily, giving out little sighs and biting her lower lip. Watching a girl enjoying having his cock inside her was another first for him and it was mesmerising. Though, enough fear still remained that he did not risk touching her.

Marenda slowed to a stop, "Language is so very imprecise you know? At least in comparison to the clarity of intent and such. So you better hope I don't slip and leave you a simpleton," she draped herself back over him and whispered to him, "This might get a little intense, sweetie, so focus on this if it gets too much," her vagina clenched around him, "Winstad:"

The witch went to work on his mind, breathing instructions and codes into the man. She was right; having his will moulded like putty was a kind of agonizing non-pain as his own thoughts betrayed him and twisted into poison. He desperately renewed his efforts to struggle and escape, but he found he could not even twitch. All the while Marenda continued sliding her sheathe up and down his length to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Winstad's sense of self blurred and refocused over and over as the girl sighed and whimpered to him. Time lost meaning as the man's avarice and narcissism diminished and his empathy and goodwill swelled. In a panic he took her advice and focused on their lovemaking; the wet friction that simultaneously soothed and enflamed his manhood. Pull and plunge. Pull and plunge.

"-and one more thing; If you cum in me, you won't be able to again. Ok, done," as soon as she said it his will snapped back into place.

Winstad took her arms and pushed her back so he could look her in the eyes and asked, "Am I still me?"

"You tell me," he could not read her expression.

The former slaver was unused to introspection and did not know how to ascertain such an answer of even what kind of questions he should ask so he settled for feeling. Yes, he was different, but he was still him, if not necessarily himself. His head hurt so he again took solace in the comfort of her pussy embracing his cock. Wait a minute.

"Will you let me go now?" he gently tried to push her off of him.

The blonde responded by slamming her hips down with a wicked grin. He was taken into her deeply with a gasp, "That's not fair."

Marenda laughed, "Really? What about my satisfaction, darling? Don't I deserve my dessert?"

Unwilling to curse at her, he repeated, "That's not fair."

"Of course it isn't," she grunted as she leaned back with an arm to steady her and began to hump him, "but if you can't get me off before you spurt, your cock will have a permanent limp."

She wanted to have an orgasm? Winstad had not even been convinced that women could cum until tonight. Sure, he had heard that they could enjoy sex and something about a clitoris? Was she enjoying the sensation of their genders grinding thoroughly against each other as much as he was? Oh gods, do not think about it.

Could he hold off long enough? How long would she even take?

The witch's vagina squelched wetly as she pounded him into the mattress and as ecstasy was forced upon him he could already feel his sack tighten in preparation for his imprisonment. He tried to think about something, anything else yet, the sight of her breasts bouncing tautly in front of him did not help. He closed his eyes, but that just seemed to heighten the sensitivity of his member being slickly tortured.

"That's it," her voice was dreamy, almost unearthly, "struggle for me, Austos. Fight me."

Who was Austos? It did not matter, he had to do something fast. He might deserve being made a quasi-eunuch, however, that did not mean he wanted to be. He shifted up straight and embraced her, girls liked cuddles right? Her skin was cool, soft and nowhere near as sweaty as his. He pulled Marenda against him.

The blonde squealed at the change of angle and her eyes focused on his, "Who the fuck are you?"

Winstad panicked, "What?"

"Shit! I'm back, I'm here. Have you cum yet?"

What was that about? "No."

"Oh," he felt her pussy give him a squeeze, "Well you should."

"Not before you," he countered with more confidence than he felt.

"Oh, you're adorable," she planted a palm to his chest and pushed him back down, "Squirm for me, sweetheart."

With that she resumed dominating his manhood, however, instead of pounding their hips together she adopted a measured technique. She fashioned a tempo of fully immersing his dick before her velvet walls clutched and tugged at him as she rose, figuratively milking him. The man groaned as his crotch ignored his pleas for restraint and bucked against her implacable cunny. He squirmed, wriggled and shook, unable to deny her sodden pleasure and the crescendo she was building him to.

In a final act of inspired desperation he reached up to her tits. The witch cooed as he fondled her, but did not let up her assault. Though it pained him to harm her, she had seemed to enjoy having her teats treated roughly and he gave each a hard tweak. Marenda cried out in what he hoped was pleasure and her strokes began to falter. Emboldened, Winstad continued, rolling her puckered nipples between his fingers.

The witch went still, "Really? Oh fuck!"

The blonde jolted upright as if struck by lightning before toppling upon him in a convulsing heap. The man felt her vagina flutter then seize around his overtaxed member and he had to bite his lip to stop from cumming. Was she cumming? He hoped it was that and not some attack or trick. She gasped and keened atop him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. Besides her twitching, she had stopped fucking him and Winstad grudgingly backed away from the dizzying peak she had brought him to. Then something sharp, her teeth, ruptured his throat.

The man's body blossomed into a cataclysm of warmth and euphoria. Contradictory sensations of numbness and hypersensitivity muddled his already addled mind and at first he did not even notice that he was streaming semen into Marenda. However, as the first jet abated to be almost instantly followed by a second, his erupting cock became the only thing in the world.

Mostly paralyzed, Winsted arched in a silent scream as his member gushed and gushed. Dizzily he realized that not just cum was being drained from him, though it was difficult to care past the ecstasy of his penis filling the pretty demon with seed. As his consciousness dimmed and his testicles went dry, he could still feel his cock pulsing hysterically and futilely as if it knew something he no longer remembered.

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It took Marenda longer than she intended to seal the slaver's neck wound with her restorative saliva and he passed out from blood loss. She had torn too much in her rapture and now the bed sheets and her face and breasts were covered in his blood. The idiot had actually managed to make her come and the urge to feed had overcome her.

"Well me, you really are going to get yourself fat at this rate," she admonished herself.

She drew herself off Winstad's still tremoring cock with a satiated sigh and lay down next to him on the less bloody side of the bed. The whole encounter had gone mostly according to plan which she considered a substantial achievement. She had wanted to talk to him more to make sure his changes had truly taken hold and that she had not left him mentally impaired but, she decided that she could live with it if the job was not perfect.

The witch stroked the hair off of his face and decided again that it really was a pretty one. She supposed she had better make sure she was not going to leave him a corpse and honed her hearing to check his heartbeat. With relief she noted it was steady if a little weak, however she also discovered that there were several people just outside the room.

Careless! She was on her feet in an instant, but the door burst forth before she could make a grab for her things. The vampire jumped to the far side of the bed as men piled into the room. She counted five lightly armed fighters; too many for her to handle in a confined space even with her superior strength. They formed a crescent around her and eyed her with professional wariness despite her blood and cum stained nudity. Then another entered.

"Motherfucker," she said; it was the drunken rapist.

It was difficult to recognize him clean and well dressed in a smart leather jerkin, yet it was still him. He spoke, "Well this is... new. I don't suppose you could..." he paused, "No, never mind. Take her."

This was bad.

"Kee! Kee! I'm a bat!" Marenda yelled and dove for the window only to bounce off the annoyingly sturdy frame.

The End?

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