Evening and Morning

‘I’m sorry to have broken your toy,’ Hudds said, not entirely sincere as he had benefited so obviously from the power of Riolta’s cockring.

‘That’s alright,’ said Riolta, precum dripping down her sticky chin, ‘you’ve given me something much nicer to play with. Something I can actually use!’

With that, Riolta moulded her lips to the blunt, heavy cockend that drooled in front of her and planted a firm kiss against the smooth slab of meat, suckling the hot flesh. Hudds twitched at the tenderness of her ministrations, the sensitive head of the shaft engulfed by the bow-woman’s ripe, luscious lips.

‘You’re delicious,’ she said. ‘You’ll just have to face facts. You’re the most hugely endowed man in Tharros, excepting perhaps one or two, but there’s no shame in that, and I’m a slut for your cock. I’m a filthy, horny slut, Hudds, all for you. Did you know that there are priestesses of a god called Girvyn who actually worship cock? Now I know how they feel. Seeing as I’m not about to let a fourteen-inch monstercock like this get away from me anytime soon, I guess I’m just going to have to think of new and exciting ways to keep you satisfied.’

Hudds, when he had first met Riolta earlier that day, could never have imagined, even in the wilder of his wildest fantasies, that the stunning archeress would be on her knees in front of him, saying such things to him by the end of it.

‘We came to catch a beast,’ Hudds said, ‘and you ended up turning me into one!’

Riolta laughed, Hudds’ dick now in her right hand, her nimble fingers wrapped around the base of the shaft, moving her arm up and down to make the heavy tool dip on and off her outstretched tongue. Slapping the massive, glossy crown onto her tongue softly for a while, Riolta then withdrew her head, her tongue still extended, a sticky line of precum attached to the tip of it.

‘Where can I start, I wonder?’ Riolta said, teasingly.

‘Well…’ said Hudds.

‘Yes?’ Riolta asked sweetly, her face upturned in interest and her eyebrow arched.

‘You mentioned some things before about how you would go around tomorrow?’

‘How I would dress, you mean?’

‘Uh-huh. Were you…?’

‘Was I serious? Sweetie, consider it done. Now let’s fuck some more…’

The next morning, Redmond emerged from his room to find Hudds slumped in a chair outside Riolta’s door. Smiling to himself at how he had placed the young watchman in an embarrassing situation by ordering him to guard the bow-woman, he surmised that Hudds hadn’t met with a great deal of success. Why, thought Redmond, the timid fool hadn’t even been allowed in Riolta’s chamber, or worse, he had stationed himself outside her room as a guard and tried to stay up all night!

Harold, coming out of his own room just after Redmond, looked at the young watchman posted outside Riolta’s room, dozing on a chair, and suppressed a malicious snicker, reaching the same conclusions as Redmond.

‘Morning undersergeant,’ Redmond announced crisply, jolting Hudds out of his reverie.

Snapping awake, Hudds jerked on his chair, ‘morning sir,’ he returned, rising to salute his superior.

As Hudds stood up, Redmond suddenly gained the impression that not all was as it should be with the young man. For one thing, there was a conspicuous bulge in the undersergeant’s trousers.

‘Dreaming of Miss Snow, eh, son?’ joked Redmond, gesturing at the protrusion of fabric.

Hudds, embarrassed, frantically tried to reformulate the hang of his trousers in order that his obvious tumescence would be less visible, but with a full fourteen inches to hide, it became a futile task. Every time he tried to tuck himself in, his recalcitrant anatomy sprang up in a different way.

Redmond exchanged a look with Harold at the point that it had become clear that Hudds was in some way different this morning. Either the young watchman had discovered a penchant for sticking over-ripe cucumbers down his trousers, or he had somehow, inconceivably, grown during the night.

‘Alright,’ Redmond finally said, with a quizzical shake of the head, signifying that Hudds should cease his endeavour to hide his huge erection, which was now snaking down the side of one leg but still tenting the material out obscenely. ‘Is Miss Snow up?’

‘Yes sir,’ said the flustered Hudds, ‘she’s just getting ready, sir.’

‘Good,’ said Redmond, rapping on the door.

‘Just a minute!’ came Riolta’s call from inside the room.

‘She’s alive then,’ Redmond joked to Hudds, ‘you had a successful night keeping the beast at bay.’

Hudds didn’t really have an answer for that, having unleashed more inner beast that night than ever in his life previously. He simply nodded at Redmond and appreciated the irony.

The door opened. An extremely messy girl was framed in the doorway.

Riolta posed for inspection. The thigh-high stiletto-heeled black leather boots that she was perched on were the only accoutrement that she wore that wasn’t currently dripping with cum. She wasn’t wearing any panties, and her pussy was sluttishly exposed to the world, with the black silk panties, as promised, protruding from the moist lips of her slit, dangling a few inches from her quim. Her massive knockers were spilling over the top of her sperm-splattered corset, both of the bronzed mega-boobs glazed with a sticky slathering of semen. Both of her elbow-length, fingerless black leather gloves bore the smears of the stuff, the tips of her fingers dripping with jizz. A long rope of jizz hung from the bow-woman’s chin, dangling down in front of her torso like a long, thin, white beard, clinging stubbornly to her face. Her face itself was a cum-spattered mess. One of her eyes was half-closed with cum. Her lustrous black hair was crowned with a variety of messy white streaks.

‘Well?’ said Riolta, as Harold made a strange gurgling sound and Redmond nearly choked. ‘Where should we start out investigation?’