Pitted Revenge

Far, far away in the less traveled parts of the woods, lived a naughty little pixie called Bluebelle. Bluebelle would fill her days gathering flowers, dancing with her many friends and of course, with mischief. She was a seductive little thing, with bright red hair, smooth creamy skin and eyes a shade of green that rivaled the costliest emeralds in the King's coffers. Being quite the social butterfly, when she heard of the summer ball scheduled for that weekend, she set about preparing herself for it with great zeal.

The first thing she decided that she needed for the ball was a new gown. Not one for the passé, she desired something not only flattering, but trendy. After careful deliberation, she decided on a delicate silver dress she had seen in town that would flatter her pretty wings and glint nicely against her rambling curls. She made her way to town and upon entering the shop, with lowered lashes and her head cocked to one side, she approached the shopkeeper.

"Kind Sir," she purred, "Pray tell, how much is that gown in the window?"

The shopkeeper, a handsome elf looked up from his newspaper to see a provocatively attired Bluebelle. Her breasts sat atop his counter, spilling out of her tight corset. He peered over his reading glasses at her. Noticing that she was bursting at the seams, his eyes lingered over her bosom for a spell before he answered.

"One shilling," A faint smile played across his lips.

"I'll take it!" Bluebelle bubbled.

Bluebelle reached for her purse and then carelessly let it slip from her grasp. She swiftly bent to pick it up, allowing a breast to tumble clumsily from its restraint. Pretending not to notice, she fished for the shilling in her purse as her tit enjoyed its new freedom. The shopkeeper flushed red, carrying on her charade. A leisurely search finally uncovered the shilling and Bluebelle handed it to the shopkeeper. He extended his arm to receive it. As he did, she grabbed his hand and planted it firmly upon her breast.

The shilling clattered to the ground forgotten.

The shopkeeper could not believe his good fortune. He groped her eagerly, kneading her chest until he popped out the other tit. With an exceedingly hard cock between his legs, he closed the shutters of his shop and lifted her onto his counter.

He laid Bluebelle on her back, climbed atop her and nestled his insistent cock between her soft, inviting breasts. Grabbing one in each hand, he shoved them together and rubbed himself in between. Bluebelle licked the head of his cock every time it emerged from her cleavage.

The elf was delirious with bliss.

After a while, he climbed off to throw her legs apart. Raising her skirts, he saw that she was bare underneath. Her pink, plump pussy glistened with fragrant moisture and inflamed, the elf proceeded to prod her with thin long fingers.

He quickly bent to lick it.

Bluebelle's pussy was as delectable, as it was aromatic. Taken aback by her marvelous flavour, the elf spread her vulva wide and tongued her hungrily until she dripped with sap. He made a meal of it, lapping enthusiastically, until her wetness smeared his cheeks and chin. When Bluebelle moaned and thrashed about under him, he took his cue and extracted his long, thin cock from his britches.

It took the better part of a minute, but eventually the elf was able to fully penetrate her exceedingly tight, sticky pussy. As the shopkeeper eased his cock in and out of her, it got tighter still. He groaned and grunted wildly at first, the pleasure being immense, but then struggled to maintain his well-paced strokes. Soon he was unable to move at all.

When he was reduced to a wiggle, Bluebelle wrapped her legs around him and squeezed tighter still until she came with a heated moan, squirming around on the elf's cock. Nectar coursed down her thighs and puddled in her shoes. When she caught her breath, she released her legs and pushed the elf to the ground. She sped from the store with her gown and a pair of shoes that she had had her eye on for weeks. By the time the elf had managed to struggle to his feet, all that remained was a trail of sticky footsteps that led to the loudly banging door.

The shopkeeper was very, very angry indeed, having been left so prematurely with a raging cock and no release in sight. In frustration, he kicked the shilling away as he stared down the road, watching Bluebelle disappear hurriedly around the corner.

Bluebelle, delighted with herself and her newly acquired items, hurried back to her home in the woods, laughing all the way. Inside her cottage, she stripped off her plain blue dress and tossed it aside. She tried on her new shoes and slipped the gown over her head.

"Simply splendid!" she said, delighted with her outfit.

Bluebelle twirled before her mirror admiring herself. She fluffed her hair and pouted at her reflection, turning to look at herself over her shoulder.

Bluebelle liked what she saw and she fluttered her wings and wiggled her rump. She lifted her gown over her hips and grasping her ankles, she bent down to admire her reflection through her open legs. Never one to wear undergarments, she studied her shaven pussy. The juicy pink lips gaped open, still moist from her encounter. Bluebelle spread her ass cheeks with both hands. First, she winked her asshole at herself, pushing it open and then closing it tight. Then she did the same with her pussy, fluttering the fleshy labia like her pretty gossamer wings.

Bluebelle was indeed a very capable pixie and she was extremely proud of her talents. Not wanting to crumple her gown, she straightened and carefully slipped it over her head and hung it in her closet.

The evening of the ball finally arrived and Bluebelle had spent the entire day pampering herself in preparation. Completely manicured, pedicured and cleanly shaven, she put on her most delicate pair of stockings and garters. She riffled through her chest of drawers until she found her tightest red corset. With great effort, she fastened it, then put on her gown and shoes and brushed her hair. When all was in place, she made her way to the waiting carriage.

In her typical flirtaceous way, she had made asked a palace footman called Charlie to transport her to the ball. Charlie was a vibrant young pixie, who had long admired Bluebelle from afar. Desperately wanting to impress her and perchance to sample her ample wares, he had quickly offered to borrow one of the palace carriages for the evening. Amidst a flowery declaration of love, he had informed her that a pixie of her standing should be transported to the ball in style befitting a princess. When Charlie arrived at the agreed hour, Bluebelle hopped inside the carriage and they sped away to the ball.

They arrived by late evening. As Bluebelle alighted the carriage exposing a little more leg than she perhaps needed to, Charlie looked at her expectantly. They had spent the journey engaged in double entendres punctuated by smoldering stares. Not wanting to disturb her hair, nor dress, Bluebelle thought quickly to put their tryst off for another time. But Charlie was insistent. Seeing that he had risked his position to secure the carriage, and noticing the hard cock imprinted in his britches, she relented, feeling some dampness of her own.

Clutching his hand, Bluebelle led Charlie to the dimly lit side of the carriage and fell to her knees. She undid his lacings and allowed his undergarments to fall to his feet. Cramming his ample cock into her mouth, Bluebelle sucked him slowly at first and then with great vigour, rolling his balls between her fingers.

Charlie grunted his pleasure and lunged so deeply into her mouth that her head bobbed furiously up and down with his exertions. A stifled cry escaped him when her lips closed around the root of his cock.

Not wanting to be late and growing increasingly aroused, Bluebelle did not pleasure Charlie's cock for long. She rose to her feet and raised one leg so that it rested high upon the carriage.

Leaning over as best she could, she sprawled across it and pulled up her gown to expose her rosy, pink bottom. She spread her lips wide, and bearing down, squeezed a few drops of syrupy nectar from her glistening hole.

With a wink, she beckoned Charlie in.

Obliging, with mouth agape, he quickly kneeled between her thighs.

Charlie spread her lips wider still and allowed her delicious sap to drip onto his tongue. He swallowed hungrily and licked at her clit a few times before inserting two fingers to pry her open fully. Unobstructed, her juices flowed freely.

Charlie uncoiled his long pixie tongue inside her as far as he could. He swished his tongue around her walls and beat it hard against her sweet spot, fishing out as much of her nectar as he could. Bluebelle opened her legs wide and rotated her hips across his tongue. When the pleasure grew increasingly intense, Bluebelle squatted onto Charlie's face. Her pussy pulsed upon his tongue, drawing it into her and feeling this, he stroked his tumescent cock hard and fast in preparation to storm her sticky wetness.

Bluebelle was moaning wildly by the time Charlie decided it was time to mount her. He attempted to pull himself away, but her pussy would not release his tongue. With his face pressed tightly into her crotch, poor Charlie struggled and gasped for air. As her pleasure increased, she grew tighter and tighter still. His thrashing only whipped his tongue deliciously about Bluebelle's pussy sending her higher and higher until she finally exploded in piercing wails.

With Charlie's tongue still in a vice like grip, Bluebelle's pussy pulsed squirt after squirt of thick, warm nectar into Charlie's open mouth. He spluttered as he struggled, swallowing the deluge as best he could, so as to avoid meeting an untimely end. The rest overflowed, oozing over his face and neck and soaking his tunic. He looked a quite a sight. Great gobs of yellow syrup hung in his hair and off his ears like bizarre chandelier earrings.

Immediately satisfied and now late for the ball, Charlie was forgotten and Bluebelle shoved him roughly away. A stunned, speechless Charlie tumbled to the ground. Drenched, he laid awash in Bluebelle's puddle, as she casually stepped over him and made her way inside to the ball. Charlie was enraged. Before he could rise to pursue her, however, she had disappeared into the great hall.

Bluebelle reveled in the evening, although she spent a great part of it evading the many lovers she had left wanting. When she encountered the baker, she crouched and darted through the dancers, disappearing into the crowd. The baker had been a memorable conquest. After she had saucily seduced him and ridden him to her satisfaction, Bluebelle had abruptly left him in a billowing cloud of flour, beating a hasty retreat and sending pans of batter flying as she went. The cobbler had suffered a similar fate. After fixing her shoes and thrusting his cock wildly between her arches, he was left three strokes short of orgasm. Indeed, her castoffs bitterly learnt why her name was so fitting. She was a minx of a belle with a penchant for leaving her lovers painfully blue.

Bluebelle's disgruntled lovers having traded their tales of woe together had devised a scheme to bring about her demise. When they happened upon each other at the soiree, they threw their plan into action. Bluebelle, blissfully unaware of their conspiracy, flitted about coquettishly, seeking yet another to lure between her thighs. As the evening wore to a close, she unwittingly fell into the arms of a dashing conspirator, who had as yet, only aspired to experience her charms.

Upon seeing her, he quickly enticed her away to the stables. There, he maneuvered her breasts from her gown and sampled her nipples until they became hard and flushed red. When Bluebelle sighed and fed her breasts into his mouth, the conspirator inched his fingers beneath her skirts and worked them into her pussy. There he played until his thick fingers squelched in and out of her, smearing her wetness to her asshole and cheeks.

Soon enough, Bluebelle begged to be taken. The conspirator tugged her gown and corset from her body, leaving her naked but for her stockings and shoes.

Bluebelle heaved expectantly.

Her anticipation soon turned to horror when he suddenly threw her across his knee.

He retrieved a cherry pit from his pocket and wedged it between her labia.

Restraining her with one firm arm, the other rose high above his head, and then fell hard upon her ass leaving an angry red imprint. With a contemptuous tone, he informed her that she was an overindulgent little cocktease and that the pit he had lodged within her would remain so fixed until she had satisfied every last one she had left wanting.

Bluebelle was stunned.

Before she had a chance to protest, he clamped a collar about her neck, wound the leash tightly around his hand and spanked her hard and fast, knocking the breath from her body.

Bluebelle grew quickly enraged and fought wildly to escape. So great was her struggle, that she and the conspirator were soon engulfed in a swelling cloud of Pixie dust. The conspirator was relentless, however smacking her hard until her buttocks quivered into crimson with each slap of his hand. She twisted trying to wrench herself free and pulsed her pussy in an effort to dislodge the obstruction.

The conspirator only paddled her faster, deliberately lowering his strokes so that they brushed her pussy with each pass of his hand.

Bluebelle flapped her labia erratically at first to eject the pit, but soon, the fluttering arose from the delicious slaps that rippled through her loins. When her rage surged into a reluctant desire, she ground her slick vulva into each sweeping pass of the conspirator's hand.

He kept her leash short and tight so that she was forced to look into his dark, punishing eyes.

Unwilling to fully yield, Bluebelle whimpered her pleasure until his fingers suddenly plunged knuckle deep into her ass. A deep moan escaped her lips and she eased herself onto his probing fingers, moving her hips in time with their thrusts until she cried aloud for his cock.

Seeming to comply with her request, the conspirator paused and withdrew his fingers.

Bluebelle panted, looking up at him expectantly.

He leaned towards her, smiling, as if about to draw her into a tender kiss. She opened her mouth expectantly and closed her eyes. Her eyes flew open as cold, wet fingers forced their way into her mouth, smearing her lips and cheeks with her own juices. The conspirator laughed cruel taunts into her ear. He took to probing her ass again, repeatedly building her desire and then stopping short of release, until tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks.

When the conspirator's cock pained with hardness, he brought Bluebelle to her feet, with a yank of her chain. Before she could fully straighten, he pushed her to her knees, worked his cock around her stickiness and made his way into her ass. Bluebelle grunted from the sweet pleasure of impending release. The conspirator eased himself deeper until completely embedded and then ravaged her vengefully, amidst her relenting squeals of delight.

He did not last long.

Moments later, he withdrew and whipped her buttocks with cascades of hot cum. The rivulets pooled around the cherry pit before trickling off the end of her pendulous clit onto her inner thighs and knees.

Feeling the conspirator's fluid heat and knowing full well that she had been left behind for the first time in all her sexual escapades, Bluebelle nonetheless strained furiously to cum but could not. She screamed her protests into the hardened ears of the conspirator who only paused to tuck himself away as he offered a wry grin.

Mission accomplished, the conspirator vanished almost as quickly as he had made his appearance, leaving Bluebelle frustrated and terribly bitter.

It was a long walk home that night and a restless sleep ensued. At dawn, she drew out her mirror and sat upon it. She fiddled with the pit, poked at it and tried to squeeze it loose until she worked herself into a frenzy of desire. No matter how she tried, she could not orgasm, nor would the pit budge.

Having learnt her lesson Bluebelle decided to make amends. She immediately ventured into town with a heavy, swollen pussy and set about draining every cock she had failed to make cum.

Townsfolk queued from sunrise to sunset before a red-kneed Bluebelle as she sucked her mouth numb. The entire time, she rubbed herself vigorously, trying to secure a release that continually evaded her.

Some were selfish, ignoring her pleas for release; they gripped her collar and fucked her face until their cum pelted against the back of her throat.

Others took great pains to tease her into a wild frenzy; they took turns at her mouth and her ass until they finally spilled over and laced her holes with cum that ran out and smeared her face and thighs, leaving her just short of ecstacy.

It was at sunset that the final ejaculation came.

It was Charlie's.

Charlie had watched the proceedings all day and had resolved to be Bluebelle's very last.

With a sheepish grin, Bluebelle gently took Charlie's cock into her mouth and tenderly sucked him through affectionate caresses. She cupped his balls the way he liked and when he stiffened as though about to cum, she wholeheartedly took his entire length into her mouth.

Bluebelle satisfied Charlie this time. On her knees, before the entire town, she deep-throated his cock until he flooded creamy cum into the pit of her stomach.

Bluebelle held fast onto Charlie's cock and sweetly kissed away the small beads that had escaped her lips. With one last swallow into a bellyful of cum, the pit plunked out of her.

Bluebelle was relieved and unreservedly happy. She and Charlie watched as the townsfolk walked away. When they were all gone, Charlie took a kinder, more considerate Bluebelle by the hand and together they disappeared into the forest where they lived happily ever after.

As for the cherry pit, it grew into an enormous tree where it fell. Each year, it bore a crop of magic cherries that were picked and safeguarded by that mysterious conspirator whose job it was to punish naughty little pixies like Bluebelle.

The End.