Chapter Thirty One

Belphoebe preened in front of the vanity mirror. She’d decided to relinquish her mortal name and fully inhabit the part until opening night.

And why shouldn’t she indulge?

A Drow princess was everything that girl Juliana aspired to be. Dauntingly beautiful. Authoritative in her stature and bearing. Demanding in her desires and cruel to those unworthy of her attention.

Truly, Belphoebe was a creature whose sublime presence deserved adoration. She inspired worship from the worms writhing beneath her bootheels.

She ran a brush through lustrous white-gold locks, admiring their silky texture. Her skin held a flawless twinkling quality, though a tad colorless after many applications of Megan’s (she refused to call that Broadway wash-out ‘Director’) discount cosmetics.

Somehow, the grayish hue heightened her allure, giving Belphoebe an otherworldly appeal and elevating her past the wannabe starlets and pageant queens jockeying for pole position in the social hierarchy.

She was above all of them, treading on their bowed spines to reach the lofty halls of fame.

A burst of heat blossomed in her belly as she dabbed on more glinting moisterizer.

Today’s outfit had distinct BDSM vibes. She’d purchased it online using Juliana’s credit card. A lace-up latex bodysuit with waist-girdling belts, garters and elbow-length gloves adorned her modelesque physique as though painted on. Thigh-high leather boots with stiletto heels guarded her slender legs against envious eyes while a domino mask obscured her elegant face.

All in black, naturally.

She looked like a badass villainess from a popular comic book franchise—every inch of wicked perfection.

Belphoebe looked and felt unspeakably hot.

Latex creaked as her shiny thighs rubbed together. The skin-tight rubber dulled but could not eliminate the erotic sensations brewing below. She was so fucking drop-dead sexy even her reflection was a turn-on. Those cold sapphire eyes and burgundy lips…

“Phakos, attend me.”

Drew stirred from the corner he huddled in, hidden behind a dresser. The miserable slug cowered but obeyed, crawling forward with his sallow face averted from her magnificence. She’d impressed upon him the import of living the role through verbal lashings and petty punishments without respite.

Now he was properly broken as a male should be. It had been laughably easy to crush his pitiful spirit and subvert his will into serving her.

It made her wet, watching him grovel.

The rags and collar were symbols of his submission—hardly subtle but impactful. He’d visibly aged decades in a few days beneath her harsh ministrations. The color had left his hair, too, leaving it bone white, unlike her silvery locks, and his skin tone matched that of a corpse dipped in gold dust.

“Highnessss?” Phakos’ voice was a sibilant hiss, a viper prostrating itself at her feet. “How can thissss lowly one sssserve thee?”

“Did I grant thee permission to speak, male?” Belphoebe snarled, spinning on the stool to stab her spiked heel into his back.

So weak. So worthless. Totally obedient. A barely adequate footrest.

Her pussy juiced when he burbled in agony. She hadn’t even touched herself. Aroused by a single, vicious act.

“Th-thank you, Highnessss.” The deplorable snake wheezed through the pain. “Thisss humble ssservant appreciatesss your inssstruction.”

Digging in deeper, Belphoebe was thrilled when a trickle of crimson stained his tattered wrappings. Power pulsed within her.

Moon and stars, she was horny…

The term “like a bomb site” occurred to Brodie as he surveyed the wreckage of the wardrobe department.

Aluminum garment racks were tossed about, their payload of garments strewn across the floor and toppled furniture. Sewing equipment and spools of fabric dotted the chaos like shrapnel. Rhinestone jewelry and accessories caught the light here and there in the colorful mess.

He’d come in search of a police uniform (preferably a simple blue shirt with some insignia rather than that asshat’s cowboy get-up) and walked into this…

“What the hell?” The freshman picked up a prop musket constructed from crudely carved timber stock with irrigation piping serving as the barrel. “Probably looks more realistic from the cheap seats.”

He used it to poke through the jumbles of cloth.

A quiet groan dragged his gaze to a corner of the trashed workshop. Fluorescent tubes flickered over a hunched figure digging through the piles on hands and knees.

A bubble butt and thick thighs flashed in the blinking illumination, not at all obscured by a miniature brown kilt in the style of a Roman soldier. Plain yellow panties–clearly undersized–were bunched in the crevice between those beefy cheeks like a thong, stretched thin as dental floss over wide, grabbable hips.

Brodie admired the view before asking, “You okay back there?”

The figure jumped as though goosed, then slowly turned to regard him like a creature from a horror flick.

Slick, glossy red hair shrouded her face. It was evidently a ‘her’ by the tremendous rack spilling out of a web of straps and bands failing to secure said chest. Two mountains of bodacious boobage were pinched and warped by the suffocating restraints–paltry cups barely covering her nipples. All that glorious tit-flesh shimmered with golden flecks.

“Who’s there? State your purpose or be struck down!” She rose on unsteady feet, startling Brodie with her awe-inspiring stature.

The mystery redhead was enormous by every measure. Muscles stacked atop muscles carved an impossibly formidable picture of femininity. She towered well over six feet tall, savagely stunning, with shredded abdominals and heavily sculpted limbs.

None of that detracted from her womanly appeal, though. Hard as that body was, rich curves softened the sharper angles. Huge tits, a generous booty, broad hips and an hourglass waist painted the picture of a stern war goddess standing before him.

“Whoa, whoa! Cool your jets. It’s just me.” Brodie backpedaled, dropping the toy gun. “The guy playing Chief Ford. I don’t think we’ve met?”

“Police Chief… Stanley Ford?” Attack posture loosening, she swiped hair from a vaguely familiar face. Less boyish than the last time he’d seen it. “The mortal warrior who negotiates a ceasefire between my people and the Winter Court?”

What was her name? She’d introduced herself on the first day but hadn’t looked anything like this…

“In the play, yeah. Tammy, right?” He hedged, realization dawning. “How are you feeling? You’re looking, um, very big and, uh, sparkly today.”

Tammy grinned toothily and flexed a mighty bicep. “I am well, lawbringer. Though your memory is addled, this one is Asteria, leader of the Amazon Warband and defender of the wild lands. We are fated to meet upon the advent of Celestial Conjunction.”

“Yeah, totally. Asteria, got it.” Brodie wasn’t a complete dunce. Recent events and suspicions connected in his brain, the missing puzzle pieces slotting into place. “And you’ve been using the Director’s special body glitter?”

“I glow with the magic of the Fae realm, as is natural for my ilk.” Her smile became suggestive, lips curling hungrily. She sauntered forward, swaying seductively through the drifts of discarded clothing. “Mayhaps, my glamor has enthralled you? Are you desirous of this shieldmaiden?”

It was gone. His entire consignment of precious Do-Me Dust was now make-up for this lunatic drama society. The whole cast was essentially micro-dosing on fairy sex ****, and he couldn’t recover the loss.

Not financially, anyway.

There was no mistaking the wanton gleam in the hulking redhead’s eyes. The mysterious dust had inflicted her (and probably the rest of the cast) with horny Fae magic. He could roll with that.

In for a penny, in for a pounding. **** by snu-snu was just a joke, right?

“I am helpless before thee… um, thou?” Brodie pressed the back of his hand against his forehead in a theatrical swoon. Really hamming it up. “You got me. Can’t possibly resist your… ah, killer Fae charms.”

“My poor hero. Strayed into the Fae realm like a lost lamb.” Her husky voice was honeyed with lust. “Allow me to shepherd you to a warm hearth and congenial company.”

“Yay verily?” He ventured before yelping when she threw him over a shoulder and waded back to the poorly lit corner. “Shit, you’re strong!”

The awkward position gave him a front-row view down her defined back to her luscious posterior. Those healthy globes lifted and fell as she kicked the shin-deep clothing into something resembling a nest before gently laying him down like a rescued damsel.

“I’m a Wildling protector. Marshal prowess exemplifies my people.” Tammy/Asteria murmured, resting on her side beside him. She traced a finger down his torso. “We train from girlhood to be dauntless defenders of the free folk until we take a lover.”

Brodie wasn’t a small guy, but if snuggling was in the cards, he wouldn’t be the big spoon. Her bouncing breasts eclipsed his face as a knee slid over his tented lap.

“Mmmm… your mortal musk tantalizes me, lawbringer. I can smell your virility.” She crooned, unfastening his jeans. “I cannot offer you my maidenhead. Not yet. May this Asteria taste your potency instead?”

“Sure–hmnnff~!”

No sooner had he answered than the statuesque redhead was smothering him in her cavernous cleavage. Rolling atop Brodie, she pulled out his hardening member to rub against her cleft. Yellow panties obstructed skin-to-skin contact, rapidly dampening with excitement. She stroked his turgid tip along her entrance anyway.

“I wish to give myself to you, Stanley. To let you take it and claim me. My insides burn for you, but we mustn’t.” She moaned, grinding those powerful hips onto him. “We-we are not fated for union this day. I must endure until the stars allow, terrible though the struggle be.”

Brodie couldn’t reply or breathe, enveloped in pillowy goodness. He slapped her side in a wordless plea for oxygen. Asteria whined, getting the message, then dragged her impressive bulk down his body until her head and shoulders hovered above his jutting groin.

The difference in their size was staggering. Still, he couldn’t deny a visceral reaction to the musclebound Amazon pumping his stiffness with a needy expression on her cute face. The way she bit her bottom lip and shot questioning glances at him, asking permission, was endlessly endearing. As though she were seeking his approval despite her ability to benchpress a packed refrigerator.

“That’s awesome, Asteria. Keep going.” Brodie grunted, sitting up to comb fingers through her coppery tresses. They came away coated in glitter. “Here, get those sweater puppies in on the action. Squeeze them around my cock.”

She mewled at the contact, shrugging out of the vinyl chest harness. Her mammoth melons spilled across his crotch as buckles snapped, wobbling like two creamy jellies before she mashed them together.

“Do they feel good, lawbringer? Do these humble breasts stoke your carnal fires?” She sounded **** to please him.

A mega-stacked knockout possessing twice his muscle mass was eagerly playing the slut for him. Brodie’s blood raced and his shaft lurched at the intoxicating revelation.

The horny skank was begging for it!

“Totally. Now bounce them for me. I’m gonna fuck these fat titties.”

Nodding intently, she crushed them tighter together. Hands sinking to the wrists in her fulsome funbags, she rocketed them up and down his engorged length until her rubbery pink nipples were a blur. Face contorting with bliss, she squirmed between his knees and the scent of wet pussy perfumed the air.

“It-it feels so strange, Stanley.” Asteria guttered, plush lips slackening. “There’s a pressure building inside me. You-your manhood brands my skin like hot iron. I want more… hyaa! Give me more!”

Sweat glistened like diamonds on her firm flesh. Golden sparkles ran in rivulets along her pronounced clavicles and into her heaving cleavage. Brodie’s dust-coated hand tingled. His cock throbbed within the Amazon’s perspiring boob-press. It surged under an instant influx of magic, thickening and extending until the bulbous crown crested the snug valley aimed at her sagging chin.

It grew unnaturally large and girthy—a supersized wang for banging a supersized babe. Hormones spiked, blood pulsed, and pearly spool of precum painted the panting redhead’s neck. Brodie felt light-headed at the onslaught of urgency scouring through him.

His slab of manmeat glimmered and strobed in the flickering light.

Warning bells rang in his mind, drowned out by a roar of fiery lust.

“I’ll give you more, you Fae whore!” Brodie slammed his hips upwards, balls boiling. “Take it! Swallow my sticky load, now thank me for fucking your stupid tits!”

Grabbing her crimson hair, he yanked her drooling mouth onto his tip and exploded. Rope after gooey rope blasted from him directly down her gulping throat. Asteria sucked and gurgled like a babe at the teet, shaking through a monumental climax of her own.

If you enjoy my silly smut and want early access to my latest works, why not buy me a cup of Joe? I require a steady flow of pure caffeine to keep me tapping at the keyboard.