Intrepid Pawns Ch. 15

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He just had to wait until the Thriae were definitely gone.

So it was such a shame that he was too overwhelmed with stimulation to really focus on what was going on outside. It was such a shame that all he could find himself doing was continuing to sink deeper and deeper into the sweet, deceptively heavy honey-daze of two mead sprites who had their prey in their sights. There was nothing sweeter.

"Feels gooood, huh?" teased Primme, tickling under his chin.

"Nnn... please..." Brist flushed at how meek and pathetic he sounded, but he didn't dare speak clearer, lest the Thriae overhear.

But he should have known that this would backfire. Maybe, a dark, wicked part of him—a part of him that had a voice somewhere between Ia's throaty purr and a Thriae's honeyed lilt—had known it wouldn't work. Maybe that was why he'd said it. Maybe he wanted it to backfire.

Or maybe he was just so dumb from lust that it didn't occur to him to stop himself.

Nonetheless, his plea just made his tormentors giggle. And then Emberli leaned in close, and he shivered as her lips brushed his ear as she cooed, "Aww... do you not want this, cutie?"

"I think he doesn't," breathed Primme's voice in his other ear. "I think he doesn't want us pumping him like this at all!" A kiss. A nibble at his earlobe. "Isn't that right?"

Brist trembled, and for a moment, he found himself struggling to respond. Their fingers stroked up and down his cock with such grace, such gentle, loving, sensuous motion, he could almost just let himself sink deeper and deeper down. His eyelids felt so heavy. They were bringing him closer and closer to orgasm, but somehow, he just felt sleepier and sleepier.

Wasn't that better, just melting into oozey obedience and sleep so he couldn't make any unwanted noises? He struggled to think of an argument.

So it was with tremendous willpower that he forced himself to nod in agreement. Yes. That was right. He didn't want them pumping him like that at all.

It didn't sound right. It felt so good, and it was so easy to just do what felt good. But Brist's mind rebelled against his libido, and for once, it won a total victory. He nodded again, more vigorously, staring at Amberli in desperate need.

But Amberli wasn't there anymore. The warmth she had pressed against him was gone. Brist blinked stupidly at where she'd been for a moment as the hands stopped their stroking.

Then he felt himself being forcibly turned to face Primme. And she beamed at him. "Okay!" she bubbled, kissing him on the lips briefly. Her eyes sparked like fireworks. "I knew it wasn't enough pampering for such a good boy."

"Mm." Brist kept nodding dizzily, feeling dazed from the sheer sweetness of the sprite's kiss. "Nn... enough..." he blinked. "I-I mean, n-nnn—"

He fell dead silent. This was for two reasons.

One, because a busty silhouette had just appeared behind the curtain leading into this room, and he had realized the Thriae were right outside the entrance.

Two, because he had looked down and spotted Amberli kneeling between his legs, grinning up at him, his cock mere inches from her plump, ruby lips.

She licked her lips and batted her eyelashes winningly.

Primme started gently kissing and sucking at his neck, all-too-noisily.

Brist's heart started to race.

~ ~ ~ ~

Yathi watched the advancing Thriae with rising dread—and rising desire. The scout could barely control her breathing as the animalistic, wide-hipped Thriae being called 'Nycteis' crept closer, watching the sinfully gorgeous creature with wide eyes.

Nycteis was sniffing the air, licking her lips. The Thriae had an expression like a cat studying a birdbath—concerned, not with the water, but with a viable target to spring upon. Her every motion dripped with lust, from her swaying hips, to her fluttering slip, to the way her hands traced over her curves idly, as if showing off to Yathi and Yathi alone.

And Yathi could almost smell her. She knew the scent—that so distant, so faint smell of sweet honey and musk, that intoxicating cocktail of sugar and venom that would spell Yathi's delectable undoing if only she leaned in a little bit closer. She could see the lower part of Nycteis's dress was ruined, could see by the way Nycteis's thighs rubbed together with every motion that she was totally, unspeakably horny.

Just like Yathi. Practically an animal in heat. A brainless, mindless slut.

Only this slut, Yathi knew, covering her mouth in her desperation to control her panting, would own her the second she saw her.

"Nycteis, sweetie," called Evadne, "like, what're you looking at?"

"Mm..." Nycteis smiled slyly. She was staring right at Yathi's and Ia's alcove. The wasp girl's antennae twitched and appeared to buzz. "Smells... good out here." Her voice was almost a moan, almost a coo, like it had been whispered right into Yathi's ear, just for Yathi. She licked her lips, and instinctively, Yathi did, too.

Yathi's mind was dripping and melting into sticky honey every second she stared at Nycteis. She knew that. But she loved it. She clamped her hand tightly over her mouth to keep from moaning aloud as the Thriae idly traced a finger over her breast and around a nipple—so easily visible through the see-through slip.

She knew they were there. She had to. Yathi's eyes half-closed in ecstasy at the thought. She was going to tell everyone, and Yathi would be dragged out—would be forced to her knees—Nycteis would hold her down, pin her to the floor, fuck her brains out, fuck them right into goo and make them drip down Yathi's thighs, make Yathi her depraved, mindless slut—

Yathi only realized she was leaning in when Ia grabbed her hand and squeezed. Yathi's breath caught, and just in time, she pulled back.

The harlot pinched a nipple idly, pouting, and turned to rejoin her group. She hadn't seen them at all.

This was small comfort, though, as the next Thriae to pass by were the three fishnet-stockinged lovers. They were so delectably wrapped up in each other, Yathi stared in open longing. Oh, gods, that looked so hot. They could barely walk and talk for needing to cling and kiss and grope and grind. Lick and stroke. Gasp. Moan.

"Evadne," murmured one of them, "should we be—mm—checking the kissing booths?"

Despite all the humiliations of this last week, Yathi felt her face go red and hot as embers when she heard the purpose of the room she and Ia were in.

Ia gave her hand another squeeze.

"Yeah..." slurred Siproites, "like, maybe you just heard... mwah... some warrior and drone, l-like, going at it." She giggled and wriggled as one of her partners ran a hand up her stocking and under her short black skirt. "L-Like a couple of—mm—sil—silly sl-sluts!" Her eyes closed as she was seized in a passionate kiss by the other Thriae.

They had stopped walking, Yathi noticed uncomfortably. On the bright side, the sheer wanton noisiness of their lovemaking made it easy to cover the sounds of her heavy breathing.

On the other, her inability to control her breathing wasn't going to get any better while these three were on display for her. She could see the honey dripping, dripping, dripping down their legs, the sticky honey from their kisses. She could practically taste it in the air, and Yathi felt herself trembling as Siproites shifted especially close to her. She could see the way the wanton Thriae was writhing in the grasp of her two passionate lovers...

And then Yathi felt it.

A gentle, tender caress along her side. A second hand, on her other side, stroking down to rest on her hip.

Yathi tried to turn around, lower lip quivering, but Ia held her, held her steady as those hands groped her ass.

"I-Ia," she squeaked, as Siproites thankfully covered her word with a loud moan.

"Shh." Ia kissed her neck. "Shh..."

"B-But..."

"Shhh." Kiss. Kiss.

They needed to be quiet, Yathi knew, fear fluttering past her affront and confusion as she watched the three Thriae pause in their affections.

"Ooh, good idea!" Evadne giggled. "Let's start checking them!" Yathi watched her bounce past, returning to the first alcove closest to the door. "I hope it was a coupla horny honeys. We can punish them for, like, being all noisy even though everyone knows that this is, like, totes our fave vat chamber!"

Ia's hands were very smooth, and her fingers were slender enough that they easily slipped under even Yathi's tight, form-fitting leather. Ia caressed Yathi's midriff with both hands, fingertips gliding delicately over the sensitive skin.

Yathi wanted to object, but what could she do? She bit her lip hard, trying to ignore how... nice Ia's touches felt. How gentle. Protective.

Protective. Yathi's lips half-parted at the thought, unconsciously, as Ia's hands started to glide the other direction—down, down over her hips, groping Yathi's bubble butt without shame. Protective.

Dully, she realized she wasn't thinking about honey anymore. She was thinking about Ia. Ia, gorgeous, tough, unbreakable Ia. Unlike Yathi, Ia couldn't be compelled. Couldn't be made to salivate and beg for honey. Ia was taking care of her. Ia had less training than Yathi—Yathi outranked her easily in terms of seniority—but Yathi found her resolve melting a little at the thought.

Ia was just... just helping her. Just helping distract her from her thirst.

And it felt so nice. Yathi barely kept herself from squirming even more as Ia's fingers stroked playful spirals along Yathi's skin, groped her ass, cupped her cheeks and squeezed admiringly.

Ia was just distracting her. Like the hand-holding. Yathi nodded to herself, feeling a deep sense of rightness as she stood there and let the junior knight feel her up. She was just being taken care of.

She wasn't objecting anymore. She wasn't even really trying to hide her squirming. She watched dimly as the three lovers finally passed by, apparently deciding to start at the beginning rather than checking the alcove they were currently in front of, and her relief was mixed with an easy kind of bliss.

Ia would take care of her. She even smiled dimly, squirming in Ia's capable hands, finding herself... loving the feeling of being taken care of. Being held. Helpless and safe.

And Ia wasn't going to try anything, Yathi reminded herself, letting her self-control drip away a little more. Letting herself... just... relax. Ia was just taking care of her. Keeping her nice and distracted.

That was why Ia was groping her so greedily. Why the fingers were slipping under Yathi's pants and between Yathi's legs. Yathi's lips parted in delight, and she only vaguely registered the Thriae going through the alcove to their left. She gasped as the first delicate touches began their dainty dance along her slick pussy lips.

"Pretty." Ia giggled in her ear. Yathi squirmed and wiggled happily. "Pretty girl."

Yathi was nodding as the first finger slipped inside her, her face plastered with a dumb beatific beam. The lovely Evadne came to stand right before their alcove, a finger to her lips, a sly smile creeping across them. Ia's touches felt so good. So nice. So safe.

It took Yathi a long moment, with her thoughts all molten as it was, to understand what Ia's words meant.

When she finally did, she blinked. Her smile faded. "W-Wha—"

"Shhhh." Kiss. Kiss. "Quiet, pretty girl. Quiet now."

Yathi stared out at the approaching Thriae as Ia kissed and fingered her. She struggled to think of what to do.

Struggled to understand why she suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

But it was being a little smothered by all the good, good feelings Ia was filling her with.

~ ~ ~ ~

The Thriae were checking the alcoves. At least they were being slow about it—Hestia seemed to want to make a big production out of each one, complete with dramatic gasps, exclamations of, "I wonder who could be behind this curtain?" as if she was presenting a stage magic trick, and pouting when there was nothing. They'd only gotten through three alcoves so far, and it was clear that the maternal leader appeared to be getting bored. Even Evadne was looking a bit distracted.

If Trys was lucky, Hestia's insistence on spectacle would lead to the Thriae clique all getting bored before they reached an alcove with any hapless humans in it.

But today, Trys was unlucky for other reasons.

"Mew," Trys whispered softly, as Mew leaned in, licking her lips, "hold on. S-Stay focused!"

The catgirl's expression was dreamy, her eyes flowing honey, her smile as sweet as syrup. Despite herself, Trys couldn't help but lick her lips, tasting Mew's honey-tainted breath.

Mew was very, very beautiful, in the way only fey could be. And in the way only a horny fey could, her very proximity was intoxicating. Her pheromones might not be in effect, but her lusty gaze, her warm, curvy body, her breasts visibly flushed—

And all she had to do, Trys knew, biting her lip, was whisper a single word—a single suggestion—and they would both be lost. Her nipples tingled at the mere thought.

She could feel the catgirl's tail, tickling her leg, and also knew exactly what Mew could do with it. No matter the risk, Trys had to act, and fast. If one was caught, everyone would be caught.

Trys had no choice.

Mew's lips were parting, and wickedness gleamed in her golden-green eyes, eyes that spoke of intent, of promise. Trys could already almost hear the word.

Honeycow.

Honeycow.

Honeycow.

Those plump red lips were parting ever-so slowly, with visible glee, visibly savoring the word—

Trys had no choice, she told herself, as she seized the catgirl in a passionate kiss.

Mew instantly swooned into the taller woman's arms. Trys wrapped her arms around the catgirl, praying that Mew would be able to keep from moaning aloud, trying to smother the catgirl with pure love.

Give Mew what she wanted. Keep her occupied. Keep her mouth occupied.

Mew was purring louder, cuddling and snuggling into Trys's embrace, as she returned the kiss. A little giggle passed between them.

Trys realized she was giggling, too.

And looking into Mew's eyes, she had the distinct feeling that this was exactly what the evil little kitten had been planning all along.

Now that Mew had what she wanted, the catgirl appeared to be determined to cement her victory. She hopped up into the air, and suddenly the catgirl was cradled in Trys's unthinking arms, legs wrapped tightly around Trys's waist. Trys's cheeks burned red-hot. Mew purred and mewled and wriggled.

Mew was taunting her. Teasing her. Trys couldn't help herself—not when Mew tasted so good. She allowed her tongue to toy with Mew's—Mew's so rough and nimble, just like its owner—and clutched at Mew, entwining her fingers in Mew's thick hair. She couldn't get enough of Mew's lips, Mew's close embrace.

Mew's sweet, sweet taste.

She shoved Mew against the wall, thoughts of the Thriae almost gone from her mind. She was kissing roughly; she needed more kissing. More of Mew. Her hands slipped down and groped Mew's pert rear, and Mew gave a tiny squeal into the kiss as Trys's finger slipped between Mew's legs.

After so many years of denial, Trys needed this. Needed to taste this sweetness. Needed to fuck this horny slut's brains out. She smiled into the kiss as Mew's eyes widened slightly, as Trys's fingers started to slip inside, as her thumb played along Mew's clit.

"What's wrong, candykitty?" she cooed, pulling back briefly. She licked Mew's lips. Everything about Mew was sweet as honey. Mew was a mead addict, like her, and her lips were like a spoonful of wine to a drunk—just enough to get Trys buzzing with need for more.

Mew tried to speak—or maybe just to cry out—but Trys put a finger on her lips. A finger dripping with Mew's own juices.

Mew's eyes crossed as the catgirl stared at the finger. Helplessly, she started licking. Trys giggled, relaxing her pressure—then shoved her harder against the wall, slipping the finger inside the catgirl's mouth. All Mew could do was suck and moan like the wanton bimbo she was. "That'sright," Trys whispered, as Mew's purring rose all around her. "Just remember to breeeathe, kitten. That's it."

As Mew sucked, Trys slowly pulled her finger in and out, letting Mew's lips smack lewdly, letting Mew's head appear to bob. Mew would suckle anything, Trys realized with sadistic delight. Oh, it was punishment time, she thought, slipping her other hand back into Mew's pants.

Trys used the rhythm of her fingering of both holes to ease Mew into the breathing she wanted. "In and out," she whispered, smiling slyly. She licked her lips, pumping her fingers in and out. In and out. "In... and out."

Mew's eyelids fluttered. She was mewling as she sucked, pleasure overwhelming her completely—until all she seemed to have left was her need for more. Trys giggled as she watched the catgirl's breathing settle into a tortured, steady rhythm.

"That's it," she whispered, as Mew's eyelids sank lower and lower. "There's our candykitty. So sleepy. In and out." She was breathing slowly, too, but she could control it. She knew how to meditate. Silly, silly Mew didn't. And Mew was slipping deeper and deeper and... "and deeper," she murmured, kissing Mew on the cheek, "and deeeeper," kissing Mew's neck, "and deeeeeeeper," as she pulled her finger out of Mew's mouth. Mew's lips remained parted as she swayed in Trys's arms, eyes almost totally shut.

She was breathing slowly, now, in time with Trys's edging. Trys beamed and leaned in close. "We're gonna behave, now, aren't we?" she cooed.

"Uh... huh..." Mew was still bobbing up and down slightly, but now not due to her wriggling but due to the steady fingerfucking she was receiving.

"And you're gonna be nice to me," Trys added, smirking. She licked her lips. "And only kiss me when I ask you to kiss me. Only play with me..." She rubbed her legs together unconsciously. "when I want you to play with me."

"Play when you want. Kisses when you want. Ooh." Mew smiled dimly and nodded.

Trys couldn't believe how hot this was. She'd hypnotized the catgirl with her breathing exercises. She couldn't help leaning in closer, craving one last kiss on those plump, suckling lips. But she hesitated, knowing just how important this last part was—even in the part of her mind that had almost totally forgotten where they were, she knew she needed to do this.

"And..." she bit her lip. "You're gonna forget all about a word, kitty. All about a word, candykitty, okay?"

"Y-You mean..." Mew yawned adorably, then blinked up at Trys with a sweet smile. "Honeycow?"

Trys's heart topped.

"Um." She swallowed. Mew was suddenly very, very close with those pretty lips. "Yes, I—I mean—"

"Honeycow?" Mew pressed, giggling, leaning in closer. Trys suddenly became very conscious that the catgirl, pinned against the wall as she was, was still totally wrapped around her upper body. "Honeycow? You mean honeycow, little honeycow?"

"S-Stop," Trys whined, and her voice sounded so pathetic, then, as her knees started to quake. She couldn't hold Mew up any longer.

She wasn't weak. And Mew wasn't that big.

But her tits were so, so heavy with honey.

And Mew was only too happy to help Trys lie down so she could fasten her lips to a nipple. Trys, still fingering the catgirl, felt Lim's own fingers slipping down her pants, felt Lim's hungry lips smacking and suckling just where they belonged.

She wanted to cry out. She wanted to mewl, to wail, to scream.

But as she saw Mew's fingers dripping with honey above her head, it was all Trys could do to part her lips and let Mew give her something sweet to taste in return for the endless, delectable bounty she was now going to take.