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Of Demons and Blue Moons/Tribute Stories
A Demons and Blue Moons based short story
“Dragons,” declared Fae, standing in the stables at the rear of the Valkerian embassy. “Are somewhat inclined to eat their own riders if circumstances allow.”
She stripped and walked naked towards her allotted dragon, letting it lower its head and study her.
Beauty and the beast, Scott decided, watching the two, a somewhat erotic tableau. With her head bent back to look up at it, her curly chestnut hair hung passed the backs of her knees.
It made a crooning sound and extended a long tongue which licked her from feet to chin, sliding across her labia an making her breasts bounce as it memorised her scent and taste.
She shivered delightedly and her nipples grew erect. Scott could not help notice a purple and blue veined erection sliding forth from its lower belly. The attraction was apparently mutual, but she stepped out of range of the tongue.
Fae had been given Igrett’s dragon, a crimson beast called ‘Blood Dawn’.
“Girl dragons are vicious, vindictive and jealous little bitches who regard all other females, of all species, as rivals.”
It watched her delectably firm ass as she walked away.
“Female riders did not ride female dragons,” she explained. “It only ends in bloody murder. Men, however, can ride a female with a fair level of safety.
Her boots, pteruges and chainmail lay nearby but made no attempt to dress, enjoying the dragons lustful gaze.
“A female rider is not even entirely safe riding a male dragon, owing to the female dragon’s insecurity issues,” she explained. “A female rider must never, ever, show signs of affection to her mount other than two pats on the shoulder as a well-done. If the male dragon’s mate thinks the rider is moving in on ‘her guy’ she will seek the rider out and eat her.”
“That can’t happen though, surely?” Scott asked. “Relationships between riders and dragons?”
“It can be a similar experience to riding to the hounds, all that solid muscle as well as a, close-by, throbbing artery between a girl’s legs has brought the colour to one’s own cheeks a time or two,” she admitted. “Such things can turn a girl’s head and lead to feelings of affection, which a female dragon can sense.” She whispered, conspiratorially. “As regards the equestrian arts, ladies did not ride side saddle by choice, even past maidenhood. They did so because men insisted upon it… so the female dragons are not alone with their insecurities and feelings of inadequacy,” she added with a wink.
“And in any case,” Fae continued. “fraternising with a dragon is considered a crime.”
Scott looked at the size of the dragon and shook his head in bewilderment.”
“They must weigh nearly twenty tons, so a girl would be crushed to death.”
“No, actually,” Fae stated. “The main danger is getting dust in one’s eyes from the down draft, for the male hovers and inserts his penis in the female, from above.”
“You sound knowledgeable,” Scott said suspiciously, “You haven’t, have you?”
“What a question!”
She looked about before lowering her voice.
“This is me, you are speaking of, the crown princess of the Ring Realm.”
She stared at him sternly until his expression became apologetic.
She suddenly noticed the obvious sign of its arousal and she blushed, approaching it with eager steps like an excited schoolgirl perceiving a treat. She knelt and caressed it before planting a loving kiss on a shaft that was as long and thick as her arm.
“Of course I have” she said, winking at him over her shoulder. “And once everyone is asleep I shall have this one too, before wiping its memory of the event.”
She sighed, a little sadly.
“Lover’s mates and ‘civilised’ codes of behaviour can be so boorish.”
'The Succubus and the Werewolf Guards' 18+
A Demons and Blue Moons based short story
Where the beauty of the princess failed, her succubus aura over-rode the strong sense of duty in the Wolf Guard sentries. There were twenty guard posts upon the walls, each manned by three armoured werewolves. Having visited the first, revelling in the sentries’ passion and climaxing on their doglike cocks, that simultaneously penetrated her arse, mouth and quim, she moved on to the next. From their seed she extracted power, the energy to heal the injuries of the daily combats and recharge her drained reservoir of stamina.
She knew she was observed from her chamber in the high tower, by two who genuinely loved her for who she was, and she felt their pain but pushed it aside, glorying in the lust of these creatures of the night. Her seeming displays of shameless exhibitionism, in the nights before the contest, were now paying off. They had all watched her, naked on her balcony, and fantasised about how they would use that beautiful mouth and body. That mouth now drained them, her throat working overtime to ensure that not a single drop was wasted, and both her cute arse and coral pink pussy absorbed their seed as a sponge does water.
The moon, full and blue, was still high in the night sky as she departed the final post, a saucy wiggle in her step as she approached the guardroom. Her red riding hood concealed her features in shadow as she glided, unseen, to the centre of the barrack room. Her presence, however, did not go undetected.
The trinkets of conquest, golden filigree chains and tiny bells, encircled her ankles. They were symbol of whores but she coveted them with a childlike delight and gave her body freely. The Shisha-no-Ken, the Sword of the Dead belly chain, with its own delicate tinkling music, added to the symphony.
The sound of a sword, rasping from its scabbard, was the precursor of a guttural challenge.
“Who goes there?”
Now, in the safety of a roofed building and away from the blue moons rays, she undid the golden clasp that secured the rich, red, hooded cape. It fell, to pool at her feet.
Jewels, and gold chain, little thicker than a hair, was woven in her chestnut hair. This was the daughter of Lilith and the three headed hell hound, Cerberus, as old as time but still the most beautiful young woman to ever walk the earth.
Aghast, her challenger dropped to his knees and reversed the swords point, the tip drawing blood where it pricked the skin over his heart.
“Forgive me for drawing steel, Princess…. My life is forfeit at your command.”
Two score of guardsmen, alerted by their leaders bark, had leapt from their beds and armed themselves.
She placed her back against a wall.
“My command is that you, every single one of you, sheath your steel sword in its scabbard and your purple sword in my cunt, mouth and arse.”
“Princess?” queried her challenger.
She spread her legs.
It would be a month before their potency was restored but there were still the Centaur cavalry in their stables and a legion of Minotaur spearmen to tap from.
An African Werewolf and a Fairy Princess on heat. Parts of the text are from the book, parts are from me, the XXX bits, my tribute to the authors story.
Chaka and Fae XXX
He hated her on sight, he hated her because she was born of privilege in a palace and he was born of slave chains on the edge of an African swamp. She was tall, graceful, and utterly beautiful, carrying herself with an arrogance, a haughty disdain, a silly little lap dog in her hands, which she cooed to before she handed it to her servant.
She removed her coat, displaying her body shamelessly.
Shameless, bisexual, 'Fae'
Stiletto heels arched her calves and back, seamed stockings accentuated her long, athletic, legs. Long, chestnut hair, that tumbled down her back, curly and rich, lustrous, falling past her buttocks to bounce off the backs of her thighs with each step. The suspender belt sat upon slender hips beneath a beautiful gold and bejewelled belly chain. The suspender belt straps served to frame what many desired about Crown Princess Aimee. She was the Fae of legend, a warrior, a witch, a succubus/fairy hybrid and seductress without inhibition, if the mood took her.
Chaka had no outlet for his passions, the females here were all too delicate, or they turned up their noses at the very thought of rutting with one of his ebony race.
The princess had been with werewolves, whole packs of them, but she treated him as if he were nothing. Her breasts, full and firm, were unfettered, bouncing with each step and the jewels and tiny gold coins on her belly chain tinkled musically, drawing the eyes down below her waist, between her legs.
She wore no panties, as she owned no shame. She was hairless there, below the flat and toned belly and slight rise of her mons. She knew she was beautiful and desirable; she enjoyed the wanton looks of men, women, orcs, centaurs and even the hideous dwarf. Her pussy, and the twin, coral pink lips of Venus that hung below it, shivering with each step, were the apparent gates of carnal heaven. King’s ransoms were rumoured to have been paid to have those thighs part in welcome.
Chaka wanted her, they all did, but she barely looked at him, striding regally through the now silent room, her wiggling ass with its suggestive paw marks, a bestial tramp stamp on the right butt cheek, a dog themed slut tag which only her mother also wore as a brand, having mated with Cerberus to produce the princess. Fae, aka, Princess Aimee, the beautiful daughter of the ultimate whore, and she herself was no better than she ought to be, so rumour had it….
.... The pain was indescribable but he could not withdraw that dagger in his ass cheek. There was silver mixed with the steel and it burned his hands while preventing him changing to werewolf form and healing himself.
The door, which he had locked, was opened by the princess who entered sword in hand, no longer nude though, having replaced the dress although it made her seem even more naked.
Barely there, dress
He snarled at her, furious for her unwelcome, uninvited presence.
“Oh do stop being such a big baby!”
“ Sortez , Slut damnée!”
“Sticks and stones, etcetera etcetera… one takes no offence at the title and frankly refuses to comply with the demand,” she sounded so posh with her Oxford English accent as she undid the dresses securing bow once more, and hung it up on a hook behind the door where it would not be soiled by blood.
Her hands dropped, undoing the bows that secured the G-string and it fluttered to the coconut ‘welcome’ mat upon which she was stood. Her own, pink, welcome mat, was open and inviting.
“Does this hovel that you call ‘home’ possess a first aid kit, perchance?”
I shook my head.
“Sewing kit? Fridge?”
The pain was prevented my reply and I pointed to one corner where an ancient Frigidaire stood.
Upon its top, she found needle and thread, whilst within resided a whole lemon, not yet dried out.
I growled at her as she approached, eyeing the long, unsheathed, Samurai blade.
“Oh, do please cease fussing so, one does assure you that these,” she held up the needle, darning thread and lemon, “will smart rather more than ones blade… you would, believe me, suffer not a jot if one was minded to relieve you of your head.”
Fae stabbed the blade into the boards and knelt, defenceless against any blow or kick he may deliver. In scarf and heels, she knelt at my feet, looking up with those lovely green eyes, helpless, subservient, desirable.
I glowered at her but she rolled her eyes in exasperation, holding her arms out to the sides.
“For goodness sakes, I am on my knees, a position, which one may add, gentlemen have, at times, paid rather a lot of money for one to assume,” she again flourished the items in her hands. “Do you honestly suspect that I am about to poison you with Vitamin C?”
I did not reply.
“Be so good as to turn your back and stand completely still.” I did so, and immediately gave voice to angry surprise, glaring again at Fae.
My expensive trousers, and underpants were falling in shreds at my feet, but Fae was smiling innocently back.
“This,” she declared. “Will sting a tad, but it is your own fault for not keeping a well-stocked first aid kit.”
Squeezing the lemon, she used the juice to sterilise the general area and then the wound, having swiftly withdrawn the small dagger Igrett had planted in my buttock.
I roared with pain but Fae was unrepentant, smiling sweetly.
“When one has quite finished being a complete girlie I will finish up with the stitching, yes?”
I turned to face away again.
With rapidity and a skill born of practice, she sewed up the wound, finally pressing her face against the injury in order to bite off the end of the thread with her teeth.
“All done,” she announced, and I turned about.
The removal of the silver had brought instant relief and I was never more aware that the lovely princess was kneeling at my feet.
I hated and despised her, but I wanted that slut so much that it hurt.
I became erect and so frustrated was I after ten years of a monk-like existence that a bubble of pre-cum was hanging from the eye like a stalactite. After a stunned pause, wide eyed but smiling, Fae leaned back to look up at me.
“About an hour ago,” she explained. “The Dutchman stated that you were, and I quote, “In more dire need of a blowjob than any werewolf alive,” Fae struggled to keep a straight face. “Yours is, in one’s opinion, a truly magnificent example of masculinity and I would feel deeply, deeply honoured to render you that service, despite your low opinion of me?”
I had no words and I thought this was yet more cruel cock teasing.
“Lost for words? Well, just give free rein to your cares, close your eyes and think of Senegal…”
She did not touch it with her hands, not at first, she looked at it with relish before extending a pink tongue to collect the hanging morsel, savouring the taste and shivering with delight.
Her nipples were erect already and she reached down between her own thighs. When the hand reappeared a moment later, it was coated in her own juices, which she then anointed onto my cock, making it shine as if oiled.
That beautiful, peach painted mouth opened, straining to accommodate the wide girth. Her lips closed over the black and purple head and she looked up into my eyes.
My black, slave born cock was impaling her rich, white, privileged and gorgeous face.
Princess or not, she winked like a slut and began to suck on it like a hungry, and very, very experienced, whore.
How many cocks had she sucked over the centuries? How many men, demons, Minotaurs, centaurs, werewolves and trolls had she fellated in dark doorways, down on her knees?
She enjoyed it, that much was obvious, looking me in the eye the whole time but when I came, ejaculating thick seed into her regal mouth she shuddered, exactly as if shaking in orgasm and her eyes rolled, briefly, back into her head.
Ten years is a long time and my balls are big but, like a leech, her perfect lips remained sealed around the helmet. Soon, though, her mouth could hold no more and it broke that seal, first at the corners and then everywhere. My spunk coated the princess’s chin, hanging down in thick white streamers, dropping to her breast or running down her throat, through the cleavage, across that flat belly and between her spread thighs.
Eventually she swallowed and her mouth engulfed the entire length, claimed back her cunt juice from the shaft and leaving a peach lipstick ring around the base. No one, ever, has been able to deep throat me before.
Fae removed her mouth, looking down at herself at tendrils of spunk hanging off erect nipples.
She cupped her breasts, raised them, licking them clean, sucking the cum streamers into her mouth like spaghetti and sucking those nipples, pleasuring herself.
Her hands scooped my semen from her chin, throat and belly, claiming it from where it clung to her excited labia, transferring it to her mouth before bending, raising that gorgeous ass up high as she sucked up fallen droplets from the floor and planted an affection peck upon my cock head before regaining her feet.
“There, now don’t tell me you don’t feel far more relaxed for that?”
I still made no comment and Fae turned for the door, collecting her dress from the hook and making to step inside it again, even though she was still shiny with a slave's cum.
She was utterly beautiful.
“Thank you.” I said, at last.
Fae looked over, the dress half drawn up her legs, and froze.
“Oh my, one’s powers of recovery are indeed a marvel to behold, sir, and I am most flattered if that is for my benefit?”
I was erect, again.
“I did you an injustice, Princess, and I do not know how to apologise.”
“Well oddly enough, I can think of one way to make amends… if not two,” she removed the dress yet again.
“Would you do me a great favour by changing, one simply adores the sensation of warm fur between her thighs?”
Buttons flew off my dress shirt, the stitching at the arms and back failed, bursting apart as the Lycan came forth.
Now nine feet in height, I regarded her through baleful yellow eyes.
Excited applause, and Fae’s grin, greeted my transformation.
“Oh I say, well done sir, even more impressive, in all things, too!” she looked at the bed and frowned. “Hmm, that will never survive our endeavours intact.”
The heels of her stilettos clicked on the floor as she crossed the room and reached up, taking one of my hairy, taloned, paws in her small hand and reclaiming the katana.
“Come, let us seek out a suitably sturdy wall for one to put her back against.”
I followed her, down into the cellar and she was flushed with desire.
“One senses that your opinion of me has seen a sea change, but I require you now to fuck me against this wall as if you hate me, use me like a whore and once your cum has flooded ones womb, put my face to the filthy floor, raise my buttocks high and bugger my arse whilst calling me every dirty name in your vocabulary.”
“You have a coil to wear, princess, I am very fertile?”
“No, I want it bareback, I want the danger, the risk as much as that, ebony dog rod, pumping me with seed.”
When I had changed, so had my cock, now the colour and shape, but twice the size of a Great Dane, but she silenced me by taking it in her mouth, sucking me as she fingered herself.
Her mouth brought me to the edge but there she stopped, leaning her shoulders against the grubby brickwork, feet set wide and pelvis out-thrust, eager to receive the mottled purple and pink cock. “Fuck me.”
She was fingering herself furiously with four fingers but I made no move.
Lust and anger flashed in those green eyes at my non-compliance.
“Rage-fuck me, now!” .
I opened my jaws to protest but she struck me, hard, across the face and my fury returned and I took her, violently, and though she gasped with pleasure at my warm black pelt against her skin, chirruping like a little chipmunk as my fine hair caressed her clitoris and labia lips, brushing up and down against them, I power- pumped my dog-like cock in and out of her. She cherished the demi-rape and she orgasmed in ecstasy at the same moment that I did, taking my seed, wrapping her legs about my waist with ankles crossed and grinding her pussy against the fur at the cocks base, still intensely excited, like a bitch on heat, I let her continue, rubbing herself off against me and crying out in orgasm surprisingly quickly.
I pried her loose and threw her down where she landed like a cat, on all fours, rump raised and looking back up at me, turning to present me with a pussy, leaking cum, and her asshole.
“Fuck me again, take me like I was a boy, fuck me in my slutty arse!”
Those posh English accents were made for rough sex.
I too went on all fours and she was tiny beneath the bridge like straddled form of this black werewolf. I had to bend my head to look down and under myself to see her beautiful face and pleading eyes.
I lowered myself slightly so that she felt my pelt along her back, buttocks and the backs of her legs. I swear, she purred with delight.
Hollowing her back in invitation she was panting with desire so I swayed forward until the head pressed between her firm buttocks, pushing against her clenched asshole.
She relaxed, I pushed harder against the resistance and saw a mixture of pain and delight as the head engaged, pausing just inside her sphincter.
I pushed harder and she made that chipmunk noise again, as I slid into her ass.
“Now, use me like a bitch and flood my guts with werepuppies, please!”
This was, I decided, one beautiful, but very messed up, fairy princess.