Vixen Torn - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Things were simpler when she worked for the Royal Investigators. The pay was regular, she had backup--usually--and she got downtime in her homeland every so often. The downside was that she had to take orders that were often near suicidal and her methods were criticized by condescending superiors. It was perhaps that last part that irked her the most.

Besides, as a 'reformed' sex slave she never really did fit in with law enforcement. Her stint with the Investigators had been brief but had ignited her passion for crime.

So there she was, off in the human city of Normevor, the "jewel" of the North, they called it. Though it hardly compared to the eternal beauty of the elven lands she grew up in. However, the humans did try, and their lands had a sort of gritty appeal. The city of Normevor was large, a semicircle on the edge of a great lake, edged with a mighty protective wall outside of which lived many impoverished peasants. At its heart towered great noble structures of marble and shimmering glass and stone.

The contrast was jarring to elven sensibilities, but then, she was often seen as jarring to her people's sensibilities.

Anjasa wasn't so down on her luck that she had to dwell in the slums outside the walls, but she was running low on coin. Out, in fact. She'd spent freely in her time there and lived well. The tavern she sat in was one of the nicer ones, as far as human taverns went, and so as she fished into her pocket for coins she realized the place had tapped her of the last of her money.

The thought reminded her of how reckless she'd gotten to even be paying for her own drinks, when a bat of her lashes typically got a line of men willing to pay up for her. Men like the handsome young noble she found herself seated across from. Though that particular fellow stared into his drink thoughtfully, his shiny suit looking fancy and expensive. White, trimmed with black, and shimmering gold buttons. Human's had odd styles by Elvish standards, but he filled it out well.

The only thing about him that looked less than coiffed was his hair. The golden brown head of hair looking a bit shaggy and dishevelled, like he'd run his hand through it in frustration a few times too many.

She'd been too lost in her own concerns, and the idea of having to strike up conversation wasn't one she relished. But then, she was used to doing what needed to be done, all else be damned, and her ruby lips curved into a smile.

She was a middle aged woman, still in her prime, and her bouncy black hair framed her face lovingly. The depths of her green eyes were almost eerie. The tan of her skin made it stick out all the more as she leaned forward and the tops of her breasts practically spilled out of her tight, red dress.

"Lookin' for me in that drink?" she teased, her eyes holding such mischief.

The young human blinked and looked up, though he didn't make it past her breasts. He found himself staring at them a bit blatantly until he shook off the dumbfounded look on his face and at last met her gaze. "What?" He had been a million miles away. Obviously, of course, for how had he not noticed her sooner with those amber eyes of his?

Her lips quirked but she never moved from her position, her breasts so exposed, just barely contained by the tight material. "You seem much too thoughtful to be in this place."

With another bat of his lashes--and a dip of his eyes to her generous cleavage--he said. "You wouldn't normally catch me in a place like this." He stated it a bit critically, but then softened, deflating a little. "Sorry, madam," he said in his refined voice, "I'm not terribly good company right now." Then he lifted his mug of ale and drank from it, the look he gave telling her all she needed to know in that he didn't drink such peasant brew normally.

She leaned back, her legs crossing seductively, "And where would I normally catch you, if I want to find you another night?"

The young nobleman's cheeks reddened--actually blushed!--and he looked down into his drink to avert his gaze from her long, shapely legs, and her generous bust. "Ah, w well, he stammered a bit then swallowed. "Truth be told, madam, I, well..." he ran his hand over his golden brown hair again, the thick mess of it looking surprisingly appealing like that. "A club up the road," he confessed, and she knew which one he meant. The swanky nobles club. It cost a small fortune to get in, however, and someone of the nobility had to speak for you.

It had a reputation for corrupting the young nobles of the city.

"And what happened tonight?" she grinned as she stood up, walking over to join him. She moved fluidly, the sway of her generous hips pleasing below the tight nip of her waist. "Did you get kicked out for being too rowdy?"

The young man shook his head and seemed stubbornly insistent upon not saying anything further. Then she slipped into the seat beside him and his inhibitions vanished. "No, nothing like that," he said; a bit of embarrassment brought a deeper hue to his cheeks. "Not tonight anyhow," he cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter in his seat. She could read him like a sign printed in Elvish; his natural inclination to compose himself in front of her as his interest rose. "Though maybe if I had spent fewer nights there I'd not be in the predicament I am," he lamented.

"I know, the ale is horrible," she teased, drawing her lower lip into her mouth and biting it seductively as she stared at him a moment.

She could sense he was more than just sitting stiffly already, with the way he was staring at her. He struggled to clear his throat and regain some composure. "I'm sorry," he said rather sincerely sounding, "I'm not exactly the wealthiest noble in town. Not anymore." Perhaps he'd thought her a prostitute soliciting him, or else a woman after a noble entanglement for wealth and prosperity. Regardless, he looked downright adorable with his apologetic expression.

She grinned and looked around them, her head tilting to the side, "Honey, if you think I'm a gold digger in a place like this, I must be a really shitty gold digger."

He looked around at that, and though the place was an upper scale tavern for merchants and the other wealthy of the city who weren't nobles, her words seemed to sink in. He smiled crookedly, which looked simply satisfying on his face, and nodded. "Sorry," he said again, peering up at her beneath his dishevelled bangs, "I shouldn't assume. I... I just didn't want to waste your time with false hope."

Of course, a noble down on his luck was still likely richer than the vast majority of the city, certainly wealthy enough to pay for drinks and a good time for her. But the circumstance of relative prosperity wasn't something the young man seemed to grasp. Typical, of course. A noble with a purse full of coins and an opulent manor could think himself a pauper just because he lost his rights to a township.

"So come on, you're not even drinkin' your sorrows away very fast," she smiled down at the mug. "And the ale is weak as water. Why don't you tell me your troubles and we'll order up a proper bottle of something."

He dipped his head down in a bit of embarrassment again but nodded to her request all the same, with only a momentary flicker of his eyes to her breasts. "Okay," he said lightly. "I figured I should get used to this peasant rot now," he said with some humour, "but I don't think I can stomach it."

That was enough to confirm for her that he was not as bad off as he thought. People truly down on their luck had to scrounge for coin for the cheapest of ale. He had chosen an actually decent blend, despite his complaints and melodrama.

The man raised his hand though and got the barmaid's attention, ordering a fine bottle of Sylvarin wine from her homeland as he gave her a pleasant smile.

She smiled and her eyes brightened as her hand went to her hair, fixing an out of place strand among the large, bouncy waves. "I guess it's pretty obvious," she said, referring to her elven heritage.

With a shrug of his stately shoulders, he said with some amount of modesty, "It doesn't take the refinement of a noble to notice the ethereal beauty of a fair elven maiden." He managed to make the words sound like he was reciting a poem, and perhaps he was. She wasn't a master of human poetry, after all.

The wine was uncorked and poured up before them both. The barmaid--though buxom--did not garner any of the entranced nobles attention, despite her efforts. Anj had a corner on that market, she could tell.

Yet she appeared calm and confident; she was used to preferential treatment. Her thumb and finger rubbed down the stem of her glass wantonly, "So tell me. What is so horrible that you're reduced to having to sit with me instead of some empty headed--" Anjasa stopped herself and grinned. "Some stunning noble woman."

That elicited a laugh from the handsome young man, despite his attempts to hide it. He licked his lips and tried his best to straighten his hair, "Ah, first." He cleared his throat, "Allow me to introduce myself, madam. I am Sir Loren Faro." He cleared his throat yet again, deflating just a bit, "Or at least, I was to be."

"Well, it's a pleasure," she smiled and dipped her body down to show off her cleavage once again. "Sir Loren Faro," she said with a bit of an exaggeration to her tongue motions. "I like that. I think that's what it shall be. I'm Anjasa."

Her banter made him smile just a bit, though she could see the telltale signs of gloominess trying to fight it. She won out of course. "That's a lovely name, Anjasa," he said sweetly and raised his glass. "To you then. A beautiful elven lady with a name as exotic as she looks." He wasn't fae or dainty like many noblemen were. It seemed his current softspokeness was something brought on by melancholy rather, evidenced by the increasingly firm tone to his voice.

She brought her glass up and clinked it delicately, "So what's happened? What ragamuffin has hurt such a handsome and charming man as you?"

Tipping back the drink, she made a soft moan of appreciation before lowering the long stemmed glass back to the table.

Loren shook his head, setting that thick head of golden brown hair to swaying gently. "No. I'm afraid I just..." he sighed softly. "I lost my inheritance." He paused then added, "In a competition I mean, not like... down a drain."

"You bet your inheritance?" She whistled lowly as she looked over his body. "You must be huge," she paused a beat, "ly confident."

That succeeded in bringing another blush to his cheeks, but he poured her up more of the familiarly expensive wine and shook his head. "Not... no, not exactly," he said. "My father, he ah," he cleared his throat. "He disapproved of my habits and set me against a cousin in a competition over who would retain his inheritance." He looked down in his drink glumly. "I went drinking the night before."

She had to suppress her laughter, and she licked over her lips. "Well, we all get cock...y from time to time. So who's this cousin and how'd he even get chosen for the possibility, huh?"

Loren shifted in his seat slightly, and she knew his blood was rising from the way he looked at her, even amidst his tale. "Like I said, Father," he cleared his throat again, "he did not care for my habits, and uh... the company I kept. He felt it a good lesson to make me compete for my inheritance, and I thought I had it in the bag but..." he shook his head glumly. "His name is Zarach. You've probably not heard of him," he said with an irritated exhale. "He's an extended member of the family, far removed. Family doesn't even own land. Well," he screwed up a corner of his lips, "they don't until my father passes... which could be anytime now. Wherein they use that scrap of paper to humiliate and disenfranchise me." He brought his glass of wine back up and sipped sullenly.

"Well," she leaned forward thoughtfully, her finger rubbing along the seam of the wineglass. "Can your friends do anything to help you out?" Her foot brushed against his pant leg casually as she recrossed her legs. "Surely they would like for you to be back in that other bar with them."

He forced his gaze away from her in some measure to maintain control in his melancholy. "I doubt it," he said. "I thought of plans to get that testament away from my cousin, but," he shook his head sadly. "I couldn't do it. And if I were caught... it'd be worse than my current predicament." He peered about distastefully at that, though looking back at her soft, supple body soothed him.

"Well," she mused thoughtfully. "You're not alone anymore, are you? You've fallen into the lap of a guardian angel." Her lips spread into a smile, and she 'absent mindedly' pressed her breasts together for a fleeting moment, fanning herself. "It's warm in here, don't you find?"

The blatant stare he gave to her breasts as he nodded would've been embarrassing for anyone. "Aye," he tugged at his collar just a bit then drank some more of the wine, finding it far more agreeable than the ale. "You're... you're not like other women, are you?" he asked her with a curious gaze. "I mean, not even the Elvish women I've met."

"Well, everyone starts to look the same if you only spend time in the same places," she grinned as she tipped back the rest of her wine. "But no, I doubt I'm like the other elven women you've met."

He managed to tear his eyes away from her tits to stare into her emerald gaze. "You're probably like... a princess back home or some such I bet."

"An ambassador to Normevor?" he guessed, rather incorrectly. She noticed his free hand rubbing at his thigh instinctively, unable to get to what it really wanted to touch, she had no doubt.

She smiled calmly as she shook her head, "No, nothing so glamorous. Just here trying to experience new things. You don't realize how different humans and elves are until you surround yourself in their culture intimately." Her words were like honey as her foot stroked up his leg again, lingering. "So what types of things did your father disapprove of? Drinking?"

His leg twitched just a bit at her touch, but then pressed back to her foot. How he wanted her! It practically oozed out of his pores.

"Aye," he nodded then grimaced a bit. "And... women," he admitted with another blush of his cheeks. "He didn't care for me associating with anyone but the most prim and proper noble ladies," and she could tell from his tone that he didn't share the sentiment. "Obsessed that one would woo me and I'd plant my seed in her and there'd be some bastard to contend with." He rolled his fetching eyes.

"Well, I imagine that'd be your problem and not his," her lips quirked, her brows rising slightly. "Did any manage to disappoint him so?"

His brows rose and he stared at her wide eyed. "Huh?" Then getting her meaning he shook his head, "Oh, no no." He drank down more of the rich wine, "I was not so daring as my father seemed to think I was. He took the clubs reputation a little more seriously than he should have." He cleared his throat and lowered his face, glancing to her from the corner of his eyes, and she could tell he was desperate not to embarrass himself further in front of her.

"Then that's an even bigger shame," she lamented for him. "I can't have any more children, but if I could, well, I'm sure there are other arrangements than taking off with an entire inheritance," she smiled coyly. "Still, if I were you, I'd just be filled with spite. You're taking it quite well considering."

Loren looked a little overwhelmed but he took the compliment with a half--smile and a nod. "Thanks," he said. Then looking to his empty glass he said. "I, uh, please, excuse me if you think this rather forward of me, madam Anjasa, but," he cleared his throat yet again, seeming to have developed quite the habit. "But would you care to join me for an evening with some more fine elven wine as I seek to enjoy the last of my privilege before being cast off?" The hope in his beautiful amber eyes was palpable, and stood in contrast to his strong jaw and masculine good looks.

"Are you a poet as well as a noble?" she smiled amiably before giving a soft nod of her head. "And I think that'd be delightful. Do you have a place nearby?"

Her acceptance seemed to nearly floor him, and he delayed a moment before nodding abruptly. "Y yes, I do," he said then stood up and quickly ordered another bottle. "It's just down the road," he said with a pleasant smile. "It's my family's townhouse; it's mine... for the time being."

Taking the bottle of wine he extended his arm to her in a gentlemanly fashion.

She threaded her arm through his, and even in her heels she was a good half foot shorter than him, "I'm sure your father can be made to see sense." Her fingers stroked his arm, touching brazenly against his wrist. "You'll be back to high class soirees before you know it."

"I'm afraid it's a bit late for him to change his mind," he said regretfully as he led her down the cobblestone street of the city. It was night and the people they passed by her of the respectable sort, thanks to the merchant class status of the neighbourhood. "He's been unconscious for days. The healers say he's not likely to come out of it before... before he passes."

"And what of your cousin? He doesn't happen to have a fatal illness just itching to get out in the next day or so?"

The building he took her to was one of the nice, rectangular structures. Old, by human standards, with some lovely carvings. He led her inside and it was dark. She judged immediately that even before this incident he was definitely out of favour with his father, for there were no signs of servants and what furniture there was laid beneath protective cloths.

"He is hale and hearty," he said with some sadness as the heavy door clicked shut. "Sorry for the state of things," he said as he guided her towards the stairs. "I've only kept the room up above set for myself."

She followed after him, her hand still touching his forearm as she schemed. He was a handsome man, and she would have eagerly spent the night with him at any other time. But a man that was down on his luck was easily manipulated. Should she save him from his sorrows, his gratitude would be enough to buy her a small villa...

Anjasa's smile widened at the thought, "Well, just who knows about this deal?"

The townhouse was still in good condition, despite its obvious disuse, but when he took her up to the main bedroom she could see the antique furniture was clean. Any one piece would be worth more than most peasants made in a lifetime. As he turned on the lamps she caught sight of a large canopy bed and double doors opening onto a balcony.

"My cousin and I," he said glumly, setting the bottle down on a dresser which contained a number of glasses and previously emptied bottles. "He plans to humiliate me by springing it unannounced after my father passes, I'm sure," he said heavily.

"Well, if three know a secret, there's only one sure fire way to keep it hidden," she offered morbidly as she looked over the bed with obvious interest. It had been a while since she'd been in such an opulent room, and the sight made her smile.

Meanwhile the young nobleman blinked and stared at her, a little surprised at her remark. Obviously having trouble reconciling such a harsh statement with his preconceptions of her, it was perhaps only that generous hourglass figure that distracted him enough to let it go without question. "Wine?" he asked, turning to uncork the bottle.

"Absolutely," she agreed and she spun about to look at him with a light expression that belied her previous statement. "So, do you have copies of the will?"

Popping the cork off with a bit of carelessness, undoubtedly brought on by too much drink already, he began to pour up the glasses. "Copies?" he said with some confusion, loosening his collar then handing her the one fluted glass. "Oh yes. One for me, one for my cousin," he said before taking a sip. "Not that having a copy does me any good. All it says is I can't have any damn thing. The fewer copies of that the better. Preferably none copies," he remarked dryly.

"So I think we should make it so," she agreed as she sipped from her glass. "After all, his word against yours won't carry much weight. You're the son. His true heir."

He stared at her, looking a bit surprised by her idea. "Take it?" he said with a furrow of his brow. "I mean... that would sort of solve everything, wouldn't it?" he mused, his collar undone low enough to show a bit of that chest hair so common on human men. "But they would never let me near it," he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed facing the balcony.

"Well, it's not like they know me. And I do look like quite the diplomat, you know, once I get out of these clothes," she teased, her lids descending part way and making her look even more enticing. She'd been drinking the entire night, but she knew how to handle her liquor and had only a slight buzz.

Sitting there mulling over her words, he looked a bit dubious. Or perhaps it was just the fact that his mind--judging by the bulge in his crisp pants--was elsewhere, and he had come there with intentions on her that didn't involve conspiring.

All the same he brushed his hand through that thick head of hair again and said, "Well... maybe. But it'll be locked in a safe or something, I'd imagine."

She nodded thoughtfully, taking a step towards him and let her hand fall to his exposed chest. "I'm sure in the morning, when we've sobered up, we can come up with a plan. After all, you must surely know your cousin well, and he must seem so predictable to you. He probably uses his own birthdate for his code or something."

Loren blinked and his eyes trailed up her curvaceous form, resting at her breasts yet again rather than her emerald gaze. "I..." he laid his glass aside, the feel of her fingers upon his chest only troubling his ability to think even further. "You're a very special woman after all," he said with some astonishment in his voice.

Anjasa's smile grew and she shook her head modestly, "I simply hate to see something so cruelly stolen from someone. Your cousin did nothing to deserve it," she said with affection, ignoring the fact that he'd done even less.

He blinked repeatedly, as if doing so could chase away the fog of alcohol. Though coupled with the tantalizing stroke of her fingers on his chest, moving through his peppering of brown hair there, he couldn't seem to focus entirely. "If I can get my inheritance back," he began and licked his lips, staring blatantly at her rather generous breasts, "I'll owe you. A lot."

"For now, how about we just chase the worries aside," she purred smoothly, her eyes half lidded. Her stare was seductive, cunning, but most of all, it was hungry. She wanted him, for all his upset, for all his fears and worries.

Anjasa had never been shy about chasing what she wanted, and wasn't above sleeping with men--and women--for money. Yet this was pure, manipulative desire on her part. A swank place to stay for a night, and a new, rich, boy toy. "You just lay back for me."

The crisp white and black trimmed outfit he wore had weathered his drinking well. It creased slightly as he reclined back immediately, as if her very words had kicked out some suspension beneath him. "Gods," he swore as he looked up at her with his amber eyes, "if Father knew what an Elvish vixen I'd met..."

"He wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop you," she finished as she straddled his hips, leaning over him and letting her large breasts fall towards his face beneath that stunning red dress. Her black, full hair framed her exotic, tanned features and she licked over her lips slowly.

With that longing gaze of his on her bust he nodded. "He couldn't stop me," he reiterated and very brazenly he lifted a hand. He was not a small man, did not look the type to be meek, and perhaps the way he reached up and squeezed one of those large mounds then was proof of that true self poking out of his melancholy.

She gave an exaggerated gasp of pleasure as she pushed her plump chest down into his palm. Her hips rocked slightly as she nodded eagerly. "What right does he have to control you? You're a grown man," she urged him. "You're strong, and virile, and deserve to have beautiful women fall for you."

Anjasa could see it. The spark of something in his eyes lighting up right before her. That large, human hand squeezed her sumptuously large bust with a hard tightness, as if he were re inflating back to the man he--she assumed--was. "Even Elvish women," he added as his eyes widened.

"I saw you at your worst, and I still wanted you, didn't I?" she asked smoothly, bending down over his body and kissing just below his ear. "I couldn't wait to be in private with you, could I?"

Her clever words worked, she felt his manhood swell beneath her as she sat atop his groin. The pleasant thickness grew so very fast to throb up against her. While those fingers of his clenched her teat tight, too tight, causing her a twinge of pain. "That's right," he husked back to her and inhaled her scent deeply, the rich aroma of lavender and sex such an excitement.

She traced along the seam of his ear with her tongue, groaning at his brutality. "You're so rough," she panted, but there was only pleasure contained in her voice. "What a bad boy you are," she said as her hands worked over his chest, freeing him of his shirt in a skilled, eager manner.

Seeing him without his shirt on showed him to be in better shape than she would've guessed. He might have spent his time drinking and whoring away his inheritance, but he must have spent at least some of that time training. For his broad chest was toned and strong, even for a human. She could see where the roughness of that grip came from, because his biceps swelled nicely.

"When I see what I want," he began in a low voice, "I take it." He clenched her tit again and leaned in to nip her neck as his own chest rose and fell with his increased breathing. Those dark nipples of his stiff on his bare chest, and only a silver choker like chain to garb his upper body.

She moaned louder, right next to his ear as her hips ground into his body once more. "I hope your neighbours don't call the guards," she mused. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

She pulled away from him just enough that she could start to tug up her dress over her thick, toned thighs, revealing her sex to be deliciously bare beneath.

Loren had been built back up by her, and not just the pleasantly large cock that swelled through his crisp, white black pants. As he gazed at her bare slit, his eyes went wide and he went speechless. He even managed to let go over her breast just to touch his face, as if to prod himself out of his stupor. "That's beautiful," he said, as if it was the first he'd seen.

The first that mattered anyhow.

She looked down over her body, her torso tilting back slightly so that she could look at her smooth pussy with only the strip of dark hair tufted at the top. "You think?" she asked curiously, her finger delving to it and pulling out some of the hidden juices.

The effect she was having on him was obvious by his quickened breathing. He reached out as she touched herself, brushing his own thumb over that strip of hair. "By the light of the gods, I've never seen a more perfect one," and he swallowed down the excess saliva he'd built up in a matter of seconds.

She smiled, looking so touched and pleased as her fingers worked together to spread her lips for him, showing off that pink sex lewdly. "I've not thought much about it," she admitted as her torso bent back more and her thumb glided over her clit. "Oh," she sighed, taking in a deep breath. "Do you think you'll fit?"

The swell of white fabric over his groin rose up with the thick throb of desire beneath. "I better," he murmured as his thumb continued to trace that thin strip of soft pubic hair, lavishing in it as if it were some rich fabric from a foreign land. "Or I'll make it fit," he added on more firmly, and she saw his handsome face contort a bit, making him look sterner as he gazed longingly at her sex.

A visible shiver ran through her and her nipples stiffened beneath her dress at the threat. Her breath caught, and for a moment, she forgot she was supposed to be playing him. Making him fall for her. Making him need her.

Instead, the only thought that filled her mind was of him fucking her, and two of her digits pushed into her wantonly exposed sex.

Loren was entranced by the sight of her fingering herself. It was only when his desires and rising confidence reached the breaking point that he snapped out of it enough to use his free hand to pull her dress from one shoulder and expose a heavy breast. He took hold of that large mound and squeezed its bare flesh, hard and without restraint. "Fuck," he swore. "You are the hottest..." and he trailed off as if unable to finish the words.

Her bare nipple was so tight against his palm, the large flesh surrounding it allowing his fingers to sink in. Her large breasts full and heavy as she pressed into him. "You wanna fuck me?" she asked with a lewd grind of her hips.

The wetness of her cunt pressed into his fine pants, but he didn't care or notice. He simply groaned at the feel of her against his cock, wanted more desperately. "I'm gonna fuck you," he responded firmly, and he sat up and wrapped his lips about her areola. He suckled her there with a ravenous hunger, tugging on that full, hard teat as his other hand fumbled with his pants, managing to undo them through sheer desperation it seemed. The pressure of release caused that thick, veiny cock to pounce out and slap against her fingers and labia, so hot and hard.

Her fingering stopped, her eyes instead focused on that molten manhood. Some of it was for show, an exaggerated tinge of lust coming to her gaze, but beyond it all, Anjasa was a slut. Strip away her ambitions, her cunning, her manipulation and greed, and she'd still sleep with any man with a big enough cock to please her. If Loren was a pauper, she still would have fucked him on the streets.

"Oh lords," she hissed excitedly.

Regardless of how much of it was show and how much was genuine, he ate it up. He clenched her breast then reached up, taking hold of her long, black hair and tugging it as he twisted her head to the side so he could bite at her neck. "You like that?" he asked in a deep husk. "Bigger than those elven ones, huh?" he remarked, and she watched that thick, pink shaft throb lewdly betwixt her thighs.

"Yes," she hissed as her hand went to the back of his head and drew him in, feeling dizzy with her own lust. She rubbed her clit, eagerly, and then brought her fingers to her lips, suckling it for a moment and moaning around them.

Loren, who had been so sad and despondent earlier, grasped hold of her hair and breast tight as he flipped her over onto her back upon the bed. He shimmied his pants a bit lower as he ground his thick, hard cock to her quim and loomed over atop of her. "C'mon," he husked, and she knew she'd awoken the man inside him. "You want it," he urged with another grind over that damp slit, "beg for it."

Her green eyes opened wide in surprise, but her lips parted nearly instantly. "Please, oh lords... You can't leave me here wanting like this. My pussy burns for you," she confessed as she squirmed beneath him. "Fuck me!"

He looked like the type, to her, to draw it out and make her beg long, but she could tell she'd already had too powerful of an effect upon him. His dick swelled too hungrily for her, and he couldn't bear to taunt her any longer. Instead he moved his hips to grind his cock down over her cunny until the crown pressed to her slit. "Here you go," he said to her in a dark voice. "Time to make it fit," and despite the bragging he was able to cram that thick girth up into her with the aid of her juices. Though he let loose a surprised moan at her tightness as he clenched her tit for support.

She knew how to grasp a man just so, to make him feel like he had the biggest cock in the world, and her body angled perfectly for it. She cried out noisily beneath him, a wild shout of passion filling the room. "F fuck!" she cursed, her body grinding against him as her legs moved around his waist and clasped him into her. "Oh fuck you're big!"

The deposed lord to be pulled back his hips and thrust again immediately, his balls slapping against her noisily as he thrust with wanton abandon.

She was good. Almost too good. She could bring out such fire from men's hearts, and he kept hold of her tit and hair so tightly as he bucked into her. An exquisite look of pleasure covered his face hovering over her, as the handsome young man thrust away ravenously. His toned chest heaving as he struggled to keep his eyes open against the tide of pleasure. "Dammit you're one tight elf bitch," he cursed at her, though she knew it was anything but unpleasant for him.

And the cruel word only made her cunny throb harder, more genuinely around him. She got off on this, on their lust and passion, and her body sang as he slammed into her. Each thrust sent her breasts rippling, her body rocking beneath him on the bed as she clung to him with her legs and pussy. "No chance of me being knocked up!" she growled and squeezed his cock harder. "Nothing to lose by pumping me full of your load."

Her words surprised him, and he blinked, trying to clear the fog of lust away from his gaze as he looked down at her beautiful features. Something rolled around in his head. Doubt? Did he think she was trying to trick him? What mattered was he never slowed down, never ceased that hard thrusting.

In a growling voice he said, "I don't even care anymore!" And she knew that was true, she had him so jacked up on desire for her--the throb of that thick shaft a testament to it--he'd not be pulling out either way. Which was good, as his panting and the swelling of his girth let her know it was coming.

"Oh Lord," she hissed, no longer the generic curse and praise to the upper class, but to him and him alone. Her pussy clenched around his throbbing, heated masculinity and she moaned loudly, "Please!"

His pumping all but ended, instead he gave her a couple last, savage thrusts as she felt his dick swell within her. He groaned so lewdly as he came then, his shaft pulsing as he spurt thick, virile seed into her depths. "Yes," he grunted, "yesssss." She could make kings of men with some sweet words and her hot body. He revelled in the sweet pleasure of release inside her exquisite folds, spurting to the very last drop all he had inside her.

Her moans and cries filled the room, encasing him in the safe, secure knowledge that he'd fucked her well, that he was a man.

"Fuck," she groaned at his final thrust, her entire body shivering and her nipples poking out hard atop her massive breasts. "Fuck that was good. Fuck you're good."

He was grinning, the look of confidence and self--satisfaction ripe on his handsome young face. He could make smugness look good there in the afterglow of sex.

Heedless of the mess he'd make he yanked his dick out of her, leaving her to drool his seed onto the rich bedspread. "You're a lucky woman," he didn't leave her, instead he climbed up over her, knees on either side as that slick, honey glistened, cum stained cock dangled out before her face. With his hand still in her hair he pulled her head up towards it.

Her eyes rose to him as her plush lips parted, her tongue moving out already to taste their combined juices. It was so sweet, so dirty as he maneuvered her head, forcing her to do something she already wanted to do very badly.

Loren watched her with a bright sparkle in his amber eyes, his gaze intense as he stared. "That's it," he growled, and despite just cumming she felt the thick organ twitch with excitement still. He might have been a wastrel lord, but he had stamina and virility, she realized. "When I'm Lord Faro," he began, pausing to lick his lips, "I shall reward you, my elven slut."

Her tongue swirled around his cock as if in thanks and gratitude, and her dark lashes descended over her gaze as her moan went through his organ. To think of how many women he'd fucked, how many he could have, it made her blood pulse and her head feel faint. She wanted his lust, his passion, and for the briefest moments she almost felt a pang of jealousy.

He purposely plucked his organ from her mouth and slapped that thick shaft against her face. "Until then... I'll have my fun," and with such a sadistic grin he slid down over her form. The alcohol seemed to have done nothing to diminish his libido, for he flipped her over, tugged her to the edge of the bed and parted her ass cheeks as he lined up his cock tip with her anal pucker, prodding it without hesitation.

She gasped, and Anjasa was, truly, shocked. Surprised at how hard he still was, by how forceful he'd become, but her bottom presented to him eagerly all the same. "Be careful!" she pleaded, knowing full well it'd be fruitless. He'd hurt her, but it'd be in the best way possible.

With his cock.

Clutching her long dark strands as if it they were a reign and her, his beast of burden, he yanked, tugging her scalp as he forced himself inside. "C'mon elf slut," he grunted as his shaft sank agonizingly slowly into her tight rear. "Don't be like that. You were so much fun," he taunted, and she knew she'd found a dark one in that formerly melancholy lord.

She whimpered his name, her body prickling with pain and intense sensations that one could never get outside of the bedroom. She'd tried to find drugs, devices, contraptions, anything that could compare, but it was impossible.

The feel of a powerful man dominating her was entirely unique and did things to her that nothing else could.

Loren had only gotten a few inches inside her, but he was already anxiously tugging and pushing his cock into her, eager for the sweet friction of that tight hole as he yanked her hair. "C'mon," he muttered, and slapped a hand against her cheek. He stared down at the sight of her tan ass being crammed full of his pink dick, her puffy pussy lips below drooling his pearly white seed, still so fresh.

Gasping, she tried to push against him, to meet the pain he was causing with her own as he shoved that too big cock into her too small hole. It burned and seared through her and she wanted to claw herself away from him, but her body needed the pain. Her clit throbbed needfully and she cried louder, her breaths coming on hard and fast.

The praise and coaxing mixed with the alcohol had brought out the animal in him, and he was pumping her insistently. The light slap of his groin striking her plush ass cheeks growing as he grunted with the tug of her tacky inner walls clinging to his manhood. With so little lubrication it was pure force driving his motions.

She'd picked well. Seen through the sad outer shell and managed to pick a big dick with a sadistic streak.

She couldn't be more grateful, even as her toes curled and her fingers dug into the plush blankets. "Fuck!" The word bounced off the walls and she screamed with gurgled pleasure and pain. "Fuck fuck fuck," she coaxed herself through, taking more and more of that thick member into her tight canal. It was like a mantra, a way of working herself to take it all.

The sounds of his grunts and curses were lost in the volume of her own shouts, but despite his enjoyment of her, she knew it wouldn't be short. He'd only just came, and the slow pace of thrusts in her tautly stretched anal canal would bring him to a slow boil.

So by the time he was panting over her, his dick swelling with impending release, she was a ragged mess of having been fucked and used for so long. He quaked and shook, struck her ass with his palm again. "Gonna cum," he managed hoarsely.

Her body prickled with sensation, her mouth hung open as she panted and cried into the bedroom air. Her mind was hazy, and no more were there thoughts of manipulation. All there was, was his cock and her body and the things he could do to her, and it was more than enough.

With a violent shudder he came inside her. His thick cock spasmed wildly as it disgorged its seed, filling both her ass and cunt with the rich pearly white essence. He was so noisome in the process, his mouth hung open as he gasped and groaned. "Fuck... yes! Take it," he managed with a bit of a drunken slur, right up until he was drained dry and he slumped onto her back panting.

Her dress was wrapped around her waist like a belt, and she felt like her body was on fire. She hadn't even realized that tears had wetted the blanket beneath her, and she moaned appreciatively as his weight fell against hers.

He didn't stir again though, his heavy, much larger--and stronger--form lay atop her. His face buried in her dark hair as their sweaty, exhausted bodies lay prone together.

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