Accept Marissa and surrender to lust

You gaze at Marissa, ex-**** to the goblins, plump and matronly, huge breasts hanging low, and yet her body stokes a fire that burns within your potion-swollen body. You leap at her, bowling her over the back of the rock on which she sits. Her fearful cry is silenced by your full lips upon hers.

As your tongue thrusts into your mouth your hand is between her soft thighs, fingers seeking her swollen mound and the hard knob of her clit. She gasps against your kiss, breath hot and filled with passion. You press your firm tits to her softer mounds, your hard nipples dragging over the engorged brown of her fleshy nipples.

"Oh, yes," she cries as your fingers pump her juicy mound. "Your kiss is like fire against my lips."

"Let's see how it feels against your cunt," you say, shocked by your own words as you press her back and kiss over the soft flesh of her belly to the dripping slit. You attack with with tongue and lips so eagerly it is as if you are trying to devour her. Your tongue snakes deep inside her and you cum from the taste of her honeyed hole. You suck her clit and bend her soft flesh to your lust, twisting her nipples in your fingers, sucking upon her sensitive clit, and fingering her to orgasm after orgasm.

She collapses with exhaustion, but you are not done, you straddle her breasts and rub your aching clit against her nipples. She sighs and moans as you reach behind your rolling ass and finger her in her daze of pleasure. You shower her moaning lips with kisses, finger yourself until you drizzle your slit's honey on her face.

You suddenly become very tired and sore and you fall beside her, cradling one of Marissa's huge breasts to your face and sucking at her nipple. As you drift to exhausted sleep you are dimly aware of the sweet, warm taste of mother's milk dripping into your mouth.

When you awake beneath the cold morning sky you find yourself shivering and human again. The other women have gone, but Marissa remains, cooking a breakfast at the fire and smiling wearily at you as you rise, draped in a blanket.

"I would be glad to have you travel with me," you say to her as you accept a plate of food. "I am sorry if I was rough at all last night. The potion..."

"It's alright, dear," she says. "I rather liked your forceful way. Tender, yet powerful, and you were so strong. Turning me about like a toy."

You smile a bit sheepishly at the memory of the night before and find yourself growing aroused. There was a great excitement to be so sexually aggressive. You hide your flush beneath a hot cup of herbal tea prepared from herbs Marissa gathered.

"Tell me of your magic," you say, seeking to change the subject.

"I know only a few spells. The Wizard's Hand, which is an invisible hand I control as if my own. It is one of the first spells taught at the academy and it is very helpful with spellcasting and creating potions.

"I know the Frozen Flesh, which will transform a living beast or man into a statue of flesh, unable to move at all, but only for a few minutes at a time. It is a powerful spell and one that is forbidden to be used in the academy. I learned its secrets from Zakrog, who had it written on an elven scroll he could not even decipher.

"I have also learned to conjure a Mischief. It's a sort of spirit, evil, but not dangerous. Not very powerful or big. Similar to the Imps that the devil summoners and shamans of the orc tribes employ. It will do my bidding, but only as part of a bargain."

"What sort of bargain?" you ask.

She grows coy, "I'd rather not say. But I rarely summon it for it is a pest." Marissa looks at the sun in the sky above. "We should travel soon. We can just reach the edge of the barren mountains by the following morning. We can make camp and then decide on our course from there."

You travel throughout the day. You find Marissa to be a good companion, exerted more easily than you but rarely complaining. She has many tales of her days in Elohin and her sister Haissa. The elves, she explains, are even more perverse and cruel than the goblins or the minotaurs, perhaps matched only the dark lords or the worst of the orcs. Yet they hold themselves up as cultured so their cruelty is polite and often subtle.

"Not all of them are evil of course," she admits. "Many nice, good elves dwell in Elohin, but the royalty and the military of the elves are never to be trusted."

At night you make camp beside a stream. Marissa builds a fire while you bathe naked in the cool, refreshing waters. You are looking up at the stars when you hear footsteps approaching. Marissa emerges from the bushes nude, her body bathed in moonlight. She holds the potion of demonic strength in her hands. She approaches the water's edge and holds out the potion.

"Drink it, Melena, and have me again as you did before."

You are excited by the idea, but you remember the warning Marissa herself gave you. Drinking the potion too much could addict you or transform you completely into a mockery of a succubus. Though you are not driven mad with lust, you still find yourself attracted to the plump wizardess. Perhaps you should confess this attraction and forego the potion for more human pleasures.