Lavorra’s will falters

Lavorra barely even registers the admission: that Sir Henry is at least partly responsible for the manifestation of the Daemons.

Tears well up as she is subjected to the sight and sound of Sir Henry having his way with Zeyariel.

Try as she might, she cannot calm herself, cannot focus on anything but the bouncing of Zeya’s slender ankles on his shoulders, or the clapping of her ass as she’s thrust into again and again.

Paralysed, she tries to **** herself to cry out, to call to Zeya or simply to scream at Sir Henry. Useless air escapes her lips, and she cannot steer her fragile mind towards a single thing to say.

Zeya’s voice fills her ears, her girlish babbling as she tells Sir Henry how big he is, how much he’s filling her; what a slutty little horn-head she is. She hears a sharp slap as he smacks her, followed by her cooing gratitude. She feels sick to her stomach, but at the same time, cloying whispers burrow into her mind.

You spoke to him like that. You were happy. No fear, no doubts, no danger. Just your master, your Elantir. Just a simple life on your knees, worshipping someone you can actually see, and feel.

She would squirm if she could, but the spell holds and her mind is too clouded, too distracted to think of a way out of this. Zeya’s toes curl, and she moans, her breasts and buttocks clapping in rhythm as Sir Henry grunts and thrusts himself deeper.

“She likes watching, doesn’t she pet?” He murmurs to Zeya, glancing back at Lavorra with a cruel smile.

No I…

You do like it. You want this. You have a companion now, and you like Zeya. You wanted her fingers inside you. Why not submit by her side: the two of you as happy, empty headed little sluts. Doesn’t that sound nice?

She knows something happened. There’s a way out of this. Something shook her memories loose and snapped her out of trance. But she can feel whatever that is slipping further and further away.

Wouldn’t it be easier to submit?

No, Melira…

The wizard’s pace increases, Zeya’s moans coming out as helpless squeaks as his hips smack against her again and again, his cock buried to the hilt in the Tiefling’s ruby lips. He pulls her left leg over to join her right on his shoulder, squeezing her legs together and her pussy tighter around him, holding both feet as he pounds her.

Lavorra takes a moment to realise that she has sunk to her knees, her skirts hiked up, her fingers buried desperately between her legs as she works herself frantically.

Oh.

When did the spell end?

I need to get up. I need to save Zeya. I need to save Melira. I need

I need to

Cum.

Her broken mind reassembles itself, correcting the dreadful thoughts that had taken it over. Of course she isn’t a Paladin. What nonsense.

She’s Sir Henry’s little doll, and he’s brought a friend home for her.

She lets out a long, breathy moan as she plays with herself. She’s not sure if Sir Henry gave her permission to do this, and she might be in trouble. She bites her lip, unable to help herself as she stares up at Sir Henry and the beautiful Tiefling girl.

Zeya is her name. Such a pretty name. Such a pretty friend.

She whimpers herself to her peak, feeling the rush of her orgasm over her fingers at the same time that Sir Henry groans, emptying his balls inside Zeya, punctuating the climax with a slap to her thick red bottom.

He turns about, sliding out of Zeya who slumps on the desk, legs dangling, tail swishing lazily. He looks down at Lavorra, with a kindly smile.

“Back in your proper place, aren’t you my little pixie. You had me worried, but you came back.” He takes a few steps towards her, his softening member still hanging free. “Now who’s my good girl?”

“I am, Elantir!” She grins, crawling towards him on hands and shaky knees as he beckons her closer.

“Meee toooo…” Zeya burbles weakly from the table.

“Indeed you are.” Sir Henry smiles at each of them in turn, then looks down at Lavorra, who sees nothing but benevolence and love in his masculine features. “I’ll need you to clean me up now, my sweet sprite.”

She lays her hands on her thighs as she folds her legs neatly, and takes him into her mouth hands-free, lip pursing around his length. He tastes wonderful, a mix of his rich, salty seed, and the sweetness of Zeya’s cunt.

She suckles on him attentively, holding him in her mouth as she uses her tongue to clean him, her thighs still slick with her own juices.

On her knees, where she belongs, with his cock in her mouth, she feels right. She feels whole, and her loins begin to tingle again.

She is a very lucky girl.