Holding the Leash

Raxandra’s breath rasped as it met her throat before being allowed to leave. She sat sprawled, legs and arms spread wide, occupying the width of an entire sofa, her heated, crimson skin shining with the sweat of long exertion. Indeed, if she looked anything, it was exhausted. Sated, very much so, but also exhausted.

Between the eredar’s muscled thighs, legs folded up almost under her, a pillow cushioning her butt, sat Sarah. Both hands lazily stroking back and forth near the middle of that colossal, but now slowly drooping monster, its every drop spent, its last energy released in a pitiful final orgasm, only enough to fill her cupped hands five, six times over. The finality of their situation had been demonstrated when, at long last, Raxandra had asked Sarah for a moment, a few hours, after which she would be ready once again, hissing with aching pleasure at those seemingly woefully inadequate fingers continually stroking back, and forth. Back, and forth. Soft lips pressed against the side of the monster of a cock.

“I think we have had sufficient demonstration of your control over this demon, Raxandra,” Valeria said, a wry, satisfied smile touching her refined face. She glanced to the rest of those present, both warlocks of the lodge and those outsiders brought in, both the human bureaucrat and the draenei paladin looking thoroughly and openly jealous of what they had witnessed.

“It is verified,” the bureaucrat said, her tone longing.

“And so, you are allowed to keep your contract with the demon,” Valeria said. “Despite its power, despite how many others of our kind who have tried to summon and control an eredar, and subsequently failed. We trust that you will not.”

Close to the same level of exhaustion as her entirely sated demon companion, Sarah did not immediately respond. There was no need for her to continue to stroke that immensely thick cockshaft, no need to keep pressing little kisses to it, near the base, and yet she found herself doing just that. It was Raxandra who spoke, at last, when someone did.

“If what I have just experienced is what it is to serve a mere human, I will serve. Again, and again,” Raxandra said, voice weary, if dedicated. “Once recuperated.”

“It seems to me that she will be able to keep it from harming the city, or its people,” Valeria said. She looked to the other assembled warlocks, who nodded, each in turn. None seemed quite as interested as the draenei and the bureaucrat, but then, the hedonistic excess available to a seasoned warlock had a way of dulling the senses to even extraordinary displays of debauchery.

“You may remain in the lodge, Sarah,” Valeria said. “And you may continue to hold Raxandra’s leash.”

“Leash?”

Though thoroughly spent, drained, the eredar’s pride clearly still functioned, and so she seemed ready to rise to the perceived provocation. No doubt, Sarah imagined, a first test of her ability to calm it, to shape its outbursts to her will, one way or another. So, rather than try to chastise Raxandra, she instead let her fingers slip from near the head of that shaft, all the way down past the medial ring, to near the base, in a single stroke. A pleased breath, another fat drop of fel-mixed seed rolling free from the head, and then, a moment later, as Sarah settled her lips against the side of the behemoth again, planting a lasting kiss upon its crimson mass, a shrug.

“Fine,” Raxandra breathed. “Leash.”