Wicked Amusement Ch. 03

"Don't," he warned.

"Hm? Oh, no. Of course not." Still, Larya gazed off in wonder.

Snatch took a step away from her. He did not want to be next to an orgasming druidess in front of an entire town. Or, well, ever again.

It wasn't that Snatch didn't find Larya attractive. She had a big bust, a narrow waist, and a pretty, heart-shaped face. The clothes she wore were simple, but flattering. Objectively speaking, she was one of the most attractive humans Snatch had ever met. But he wasn't that interested in sex. Sex was something that happened, not something he sought out. It was something that made him lose control. The daemon's attentions had been . . . pleasant. Very, very pleasant. And something that made him feel that good, that broke him down to that extent? That was damn scary.

And if there was someone he was interested in forming a romantic bond with, he hadn't met them yet. Frankly, he'd started to wonder if he was what the teachers had called an 'unromantic'—someone with capacity for love of the romantic variety. Still, putting all that complicated information aside, Larya was not his type. She was too young, too open, too pleasant and kind and good. She felt more like a . . .

"Hey, look!" Larya pointed. "Is that a brothel?" A brothel was their actual 'quest objective', but her voice was a little too clipped, a little too interested.

Snatch—Alrek, to his friends, and he had none to speak of—shook himself. Like someone I can't wait to be rid of.

They entered the town and headed straight for The Cooing Wraith. Above the door—for there were doors, Snatch saw as they got closer—hung a lovingly embroidered tapestry. It depicted a curvaceous woman covered in a soft layer of gray fuzz. A pair of fluttering moth wings sprouted from her back, along with a pair of elegant antennae. Her hand was up to her o-shaped mouth as if in surprise, and three clusters of dovewraith moths had gathered to discretely cover her nipples and genitals.

He glanced down at Larya, who was staring at the tapestry, her face red. He gestured to it, wanting to snap her out of the trance. "Sorta, uh . . . What's the word? Exploitive, ain't it?"

"Hm. What?" She glanced over, blinking heavy-lidded eyes. She suddenly looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.

He gestured again, wondering if she knew what he was talking about. "Dopterines. Mothgirls. Using them as a sex symbol. Kinda fucked up, right?"

"How so?"

She seemed genuinely confused. Snatch opened his mouth to explain—to explain how sensitive the dopterine culture was to sexual imagery, to explain how the dopterines tended to be treated by elves, humans and fey, the history behind it all—and then quickly snapped his mouth shut.

What was he doing? Dopterines were only found in one corner of the world in any great numbers. Of course she wouldn't understand the context. And why the fuck would he care? He hadn't seen Theisa in years, and besides, if he went around correcting people on moral concepts, Larya was going to think he was giving a shit. And then . . .

"They have fuzz," he said gnomically. "It's gross."

"Oh." Larya cocked her head. "I don't—well, that's your opinion." She shrugged, then turned back to the door. "So, do we knock, or . . .?"

"Oh, quite to the contrary." They both turned at the new voice. "We prefer that guests enter very much at their own pleasure."

Elves were short. This one was almost five feet, which was, by elf standards, rather tall. She had the funny ageless quality especially old elves acquired—her long, perfectly styled hair looked like fine silver strands, but her face was youthful, her gray eyes filled with gleaming energy. A dark green bowler cap covered elaborate braids. Her dress was simple, but the materials it was made from were utterly priceless. Snatch knew Arachne Girl silk when he saw it.

She had a thin smile as she looked the pair over. Her left eye twitched. "I must confess, we were expecting you."

"Uh. Huh." Snatch audibly heard Larya try to swallow with a dry mouth. And if he could hear it, no doubt the elf could—he'd heard elf ears were big and pointy, but those were positively bat ears. "Were. You?"

The elf blushed. Even Snatch could tell it was a calculated blush—and he did not trust anybody with enough control over themselves to blush deliberately. "Oh, well, we weren't expecting you." The way she said the last word was positively a coo. "Not a lady so fair, no. But we do parlance with the beasts and birds from time to time. They told us we were being sought out."

"Really?" It sounded like Larya was starting to regain some control. Snatch had no idea what her problem was, but at least she seemed to be aware enough to function. "You can talk to animals?"

"Not animals." The elf shook her head. "Animals is a wide genre. We don't speak with spiders or beetles, nor worms or fish, nor toads and serpents.

"So . . . mammals and birds."

The elf let out a laugh like fiddle notes. "Well, if you want to make it technical. What matters is . . . we were waiting for you."

"Who are you?" Larya asked.

"Cellesixe," the elf purred. "Of the Celestial family. Perhaps you've heard of us."

"The crime family, right?" Snatch asked. He scowled as Cellesixe turned to look at him. She looked as though she'd just noticed a banana slug on her sandwich. "Yeah, I've heard of you. Seen your work."

"Mm." Cellesixe nodded. "Well." She gave the same upward laugh. "We don't generally refer to ourselves in quite as many words."

"I only used, like, three words."

"Mm." Cellesixe looked closer at Snatch. She sauntered over, and it was then that he noticed Larya frantically cutting her hand across her throat.

Snatch wasn't a people person, but it occurred to him that Cellesixe might be indicating that she did not like those three words.

"Uh." He coughed. "Y'know what? You're probably right. 'Crime family' was, uh, the wrong phrase. Maybe . . ."

Shit, what was a phrase that wouldn't get him a pair of honey shoes?

Larya gave her throat a delicate clearing. "You know, I think any family is a 'crime family' if . . . pressed wrongly."

Snatch hesitated only a moment before swallowing his pride and seizing the lifeline. There was no way he was going to be the one that got them killed. "Right! Yeah. That."

Cellesixe's smile was so thin, it was basically a line. The husky giggle she gave was like glass breaking. "Mm. Well said, my dears. After all, does a family not look out for its own?" She shrugged. "Whatever the law may decree?"

Snatch kept his mouth shut. Larya answered with a giggle of her own. He couldn't believe she could fake a laugh right now. "Of course! I mean, we're here on behalf of friends of our own. And there's nothing we wouldn't do to help our loved ones, right?"

"Right." There was a glint in Cellesixe's eyes Snatch didn't like. Hopefully, it was just from her nondiscrete ogling of Larya's figure. But then again, even that made him nervous. She didn't seem to feel any shame about it. She was sizing him up, too, and not just in a combat sense. She didn't care about appearing rude.

She had all the power here. Or at least guessed she did.

"Where are my manners?" Larya threw out her arms. "My name is Larya Nuptuel. This is . . . Snatch." She curtseyed, and gestured for Snatch to show the same courtesy. He grimaced and performed a sort of awkward half-squatting bow. "We're here looking for the kitten cherry blossom extract. We . . . understand you grow one such tree here."

"Do you?" Cellesixe had a half-smile as she regarded the two of them. "Well, I do not discuss business out here in the cold. You both simply must come inside at once." She gestured towards the door.

As if on command, Larya went bright red. "Oh, w-we really can't—"

"I insist," Cellesixe said softly. Without a single catch in her step, she sidled up and locked Larya's arm in the crook of her elbow. She led the reluctant druidess forward, laughing off Larya's feeble objections.

It occurred to Snatch that this might not just be Larya being Larya. She might have genuinely not wanted to go into the building, but she clearly understood the social situation better than he did. And she was doing everything Cellesixe wanted them to.

He gritted his teeth and followed after. How bad could it be?

The fibrous weaving cast a warm pink light on the room they entered, and it was like walking into a sunset. Instantly, the smells of at least three distinct drugs hit Snatch's nostrils. Thriae honeycones. Crimson nightshade. Dryad musk. And there were others.

The small, reddish room was draped with bodies engaged in acts of lust. A large couch next to the entrance bore three female elves entangled in each other's arms and legs. Two scissored against each other atop the third, moaning and licking, clearly building to several powerful orgasms. One of them blinked up at Snatch, her gray eyes glimmering with hunger. She grinned.

He took a step away from the couch.

In a large chair, a male elf gripped a female elf by the pigtails and jerked her head up and down between his legs. Her ears were noticeably less pointed than the others'. She knelt between his legs on the soft, carpeted floor, allowing herself to be used as a living sex toy. "Little slut," Snatch heard him whisper. "Fucking . . . slurping . . . half-bred . . . slut . . ."

Snatch saw that a similar couple lay on the floor at Cellesixe's and Larya's feet. Still partially clad in diaphanous silks, the two elves were locked in a passionate embrace. They kissed and ground against each other as though in heat. Their eyes were tightly shut, and to a casual observer—though it was impossible to gaze upon the display 'casually'—they were clearly hopelessly lost in pleasurable sensation.

But Larya was hesitating, and it took Snatch a moment to realize what was going on. The two elves weren't as oblivious as they appeared. Every time Larya tried to step over, a hand would stray up, brushing along her thigh, and she would dart back as though bitten. Or one of their heads would come a bit closer to her leg, and the kiss would break just long enough for lips to graze her bare skin.

Larya looked cornered. Snatch saw her glance at Cellesixe, who seemed mostly amused by the whole thing. Cellesixe gave her a visible wink. Even Snatch could tell what that wink meant.

What now, clever girl?

Snatch scowled. Larya was annoying and self-righteous and all that, but he wasn't about to let his temporary companion get taken advantage of. He took a step forward, then stopped.

The three on the couch had slowed in their activities. They were still kissing, still grinding, but it was more gradual, as if just for show. All three were eyeing him with clear interest. They were truly beautiful women—bearing that distinctive greenish tint to their skin that all elves had and that Cellesixe mysteriously lacked. Their locks of red hair were tangled, their skin glistening with sweat. The trio pursed lush red lips and blew him kisses, then leaned close and planted more tangible kisses on each other.

Snatch realized he was staring. He intensified his scowl and turned back to Larya. She was now standing still as the couple made love practically right between her legs. Hands were grasped around her ankles. Her eyes were tightly closed, and she seemed to be whispering under her breath. He was rather glad he couldn't hear what she was saying.

Cellesixe was no longer next to Larya. The old elf was sitting on another chair, legs crossed. One of her hands was gently rubbing her crotch through her skirt. She was watching both of them, still wearing that amused smile. She looked at him, then tilted her head meaningfully.

Following her gaze, he turned. One of the three women had disentangled herself from the pile and was half-crawling towards him. That pretty face now wore an insidious, seductive smile.

The prostitute came to a crouch with her face mere inches from his cock. She was totally naked, and her perfect, smooth breasts jiggled slightly as she settled into a kneeling position. She looked up at him, then at the bulge in his trousers, her eyes suddenly questioning and innocent.

Fuck. He was hard. Snatch took a step back, swallowing. This was not a good place for them to be. He took another step back just as he realized that there was only one elf left on the couch. She sat there, her legs spread to impossible angles, her cunt on clear display as she toyed with herself. She let out a little girlish laugh as she raised one of her slick fingers up to her ruby lips.

Trap. And as he finished stepping backward, he felt a warm body move against his ankle.

Snatch flailed his arms and fell backwards. As he fell, he caught one glimpse of Larya. She was still struggling to remain still, though with her back to him, he couldn't begin to guess at her feelings. Her knees, however, were slowly buckling beneath a storm of little licks and kisses along her inner thighs. And he could hear her now. "Not now," she was whispering. "Oh, not there . . ."

Snatch tried to leap up the second he touched the soft carpet, but he wasn't only bearing his own weight anymore. The trio had seen his effort coming, and one of them—the one who had just been salivating at his crotch, in fact—was suddenly on his lap, pinning him between her legs. She straddled him with a bright and eager smile. She was scarcely four and half feet tall, but still heavy enough to slow him down. "Oh, tasty human!" She giggled. "Surely you don't want to get up without sampling the . . . pleasures of staying down?"

Snatch's hand sprang for his knife, since his scythe was pinned beneath him. But the knife wasn't there.

"Looking for this?" He looked straight up. Cellesixe was lounging back in her chair now, still wearing that shit-eating grin. An elf of unclear gender had their head buried beneath her dress, but Cellesixe barely seemed to notice the sensation of being eaten out—at least, not on her face. Her right hand was clawed in the elf's long, dark hair.

With her left, she raised Snatch's knife to her eye level. She laughed, tossing it outside. "Why would you want to fight these beautiful women, 'Snatch'? They only want to make our guest feel at home."

"I don't have a home," he snarled.

His arms were now both pinned by the same elf on top of his crotch. She lowered down on him, beaming. "Good boy," she cooed. "Stay down!"

Feeling more little fingers locking underneath his trousers, he struggled all the harder. But all he was doing, he realized, was rubbing up against the naked groin of his captor.

It felt good.

Slowly, the other two elves slid his pants down to his ankles.

"Good boy," the elf whispered again. She leaned close and planted a kiss on his unwilling face. She smelled like strawberries. He groaned as he felt her rubbing her crotch against his. Even through his underwear, the sensation was glorious.

Hot breath tickled his left ear. "You can have it all," whispered the second of the trio, her petite body lying against his side.

A little flitting tongue licked along his right earlobe. "Just stay down," whispered the third, rubbing her whole body against him. She was the one who had been underneath the other two earlier.

He stared up into his captor's gleaming silver eyes. They were like twin moons, distant, alluring. Her grip on his arms was like iron. Or maybe he was too weak.

Or maybe he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave.

He fought the idea back, and kept fighting, as the two elves on either side of him started to slip their arms around him, to grip him in a tight, sensual embrace. Their lips and tongues were on his neck, now, titillating him, distracting him. They were going to make him weak and pliant. They were trying to make him . . . obedient.

He could feel his hard member being rubbed by slender hands, and clearly, the elf astride him could, too. "Oh, good, big boy," she whispered. "My name is Illetrys."

"Seems hard to pronounce," Snatch muttered, trying in vain to shut out the pleasurable sensations.

But she only smiled wider. "I can make you scream it." And she leaned close and grabbed him in a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips mashed sloppily against him, and at the same time, he tasted something foreign entering his mouth. It tasted like a sweet, herbal smoke. She moaned against him, heedless of his struggles—or perhaps enjoying them—and held him all the tighter. Her hands ran down his back, running over the hands of her two partners and coming down to grip his waist. She started to pull him against her, forcing his hips to buck towards her warm, wet pussy. His cock was pressing so eagerly against its cloth restraints, it almost hurt.

Snatch could feel his head spinning as Illetrys broke off the kiss. He jerked his head away from her and turned from those hungry, luscious lips—and found himself face to face with the second elf. She smiled at him, her face now less than an inch from his own. "My name is Pellesise," she murmured, little white puffs of smoke seeping from her mouth and nostrils. Her soft hand stroked his cheek and held him still as she leaned in and kissed him.

Again, he tasted the drug. He could smell it, now, too. Gancanagh smoke, he realized, his heart sinking. It was a fast-acting drug, and while it worked better on women, two kisses would be enough for just about anyone—even second-degree. He tried to jerk away, but her lips were so soft, so plush, like great, big pillows. He found he couldn't quite pull out of their reach. He only vaguely understood that he wasn't even moving, and certainly wasn't struggling.

Her tongue wriggled in his mouth, caressing his own. When she pulled back, Snatch found himself almost leaning in after her. She giggled and pouted at him.

His underwear was off now, he realized—they must have pulled it away while he was lost in the smoke—and his cock was pinned beneath Illetrys's leg. He moaned as the gorgeous elf continued to rub against him. His whole head was rising into the clouds, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his dick from making all his decisions for him.

Then a hand took his chin and gently forced his face back upwards. He stared up at Illetrys and the third elf. The third was holding an ornate glass pipe that released a familiar white vapor, but both her arms were wrapped around Illetrys in a devouring embrace. Their lips slid together, releasing gasps and moans. He stared up numbly. His whole world was shrinking, and all he could see was two beautiful, petite, scarlet-haired women, locked in the act of passion.

Then they pulled away from each other and turned to smile down at Snatch. Both their silver eyes were rimmed red, like rusty steel orbs. They stared at him in a way that reminded him of two starving wolves he'd once seen staring at a feral pig. An interloper far from home that had wandered out into a world it could never understand.

It hadn't ended well for the pig.

With twin squeals of delight, they descended on him, bathing him in wet, smoky kisses on the mouth, cheeks, neck—anywhere they could reach. They took turns planting their lips on his and pumping in the fey smoke, filling his head with air until it felt like all his thoughts were drooling from his slack mouth.

And then he felt Illetrys's hips rise, and the next thing he knew, he was inside her.

The screams Illetrys released were matched only by the nearby screams of someone . . . familiar. But before he could think about that, her inner walls contracted around his cock, massaging along his length like a pair of fulsome lips.

He stiffened and stifled a moan as she started to slowly bounce on his shaft. Except . . . he hadn't stifled it. He'd just moaned, loudly, staring up at Illetrys with a look of slack-jawed awe. And she was smiling down at him.