Merope - Yesterday at 8:49 PM
The elfin alchemist doesn't seem all too energetic or plucky, not as usual anyhow, but she still let the loud ring of her silver bell emanate from the dining hall, as modest as it was. Were Danalia to snake out from her den and make the short trek to the room, she would be greated to the sight of a small but hearty meal. A pot full of Eireann stew, well-seasoned with garlic and other flavorfull herbs, spices, etc., the focal point being the lamb shank which had been long simmered in the stock and brandy. To go with it, a plate full of fluffy, buttery mashed potatoes and a basket of dinner rolls. A fine port stood, no doubt paired with the meal, and a pitcher of ice cold water. On the table, two porcelain plates were laid out with fine silverware, glasses and cups. She was dressed in a cutesy apron, under which a light and bouncy dress suitable for their tropical cottage. "Dinner is served!" she sang cheerfully, despite her light fatigue.

Fai - Yesterday at 9:10 PM

Rose from her laborious slumberings with bleary eyes as the gong that was the Dark One's tiny silver bell rang out audibly time and time again upon the wooden walls of their cottage. She shuffled out from sweat soaked sheets damp with perspiration and inundated with the odorous taint of the azure Elf to shakily plant her bared feet upon the floor. Should she get dressed? It was a meal, and proper etiquette should be maintained at all times - but as it was a meal, it was pertinent that the food put on display in the dining room be consumed as quickly as possible! Quite the conundrum, that the Elf's half lucid brain seriously had no place considering so immediately after being awoken - so she simply didn't. Gripping one of the less messy sheets, she lazily drapped it over herself and her immodest erection. A hand scratching through her tangled locks of hair from her head in a vain attempt to at the minimum, flatten out the cow licks with little (none) success. Her foot falls quite as calve muscles groaned from their only exertion all day, stumbling almost i to the dining room with her eyes milking in the sights. An almost schoolgirl blush crossing her face, as an even wider grin formed in heartbeats. "Oh my? Is this all for me?" The Elf inhaling somewhat slowly through her nostrils, sheet dragging audibly behind her upon the wood with a light shuffle, until she planted herself down in a creak laden seat.  "Not only do I get delicious food, but eye candy the moment I awaken, hrm~?" Glistening crimson hues that were still blatantly half trapped in her sub conscious starring up at the dark elf, her hand across her breasts covered in cloth barely containing their sagging might. "Certainly you'll be eating as well, yes?"

Merope - Yesterday at 9:41 PM

"Of course, silly," her household companion nodded, soft smile and all, in an effort to wash away some of her partner's post-slumber grogginess with some tender exchange. Of course, she wasn't so fucking vapid as to really believe that the world worked like that whatsoever, but what did matter was that it satisfied her own desire to simply feed the usually grumpy azure alchemist without being subject to bodily torture. Even for a total profligate such as herself, some limits had to be placed on how many times her limbs could be treated with such disrespect for the energy it took to restitch and regrow them! Not that she could die, but it didn't do well for a researcher to be in a constant daze of erotic pleasure and pain with no time to work. Her hand took its instrument of choice and spooned a generous serving of the buttery mash onto what was apparently Danalia's designated plate, following up with her own portion of the starchy potato meal. It made a perfect base on which she could then ladle the stew, a thick, luxurious soup enriched with the fat from the lamb shank and the brandy. With it, a bit of roast carrots and asparagus and a fluffy dinner roll to hold the meal all together! But of course, she couldn't forget the cup of chilled water and a glass of a Gaulish vintage, imported from the fields of western fields of the gastronomer's delight of a country itself! But, she was so enamored in serving that she hadn't even noticed Danalia's attire-- or rather, her lack of it. A soft blush fell on her face as she avoided staring too long at that enticing, virile bulge betraying the smell of a primal instinct to breed, activating her own loins, but she simply gulped down her nervousness and took her seat across from her trade-kin's designated eating arrangements.

Fai - Yesterday at 9:42 PM

Stared in almost a daze as the Elf happily scooped and splatted mashed and mulched potatoes and stew alike upon her plate. The smell intoxicating to the nostrils, even if it was ever so subtly beginning to become tinted and contorted by the light and glistening layer that soaked the Azure one's frame. Her hand that held upon the sheet, releasing it absently. Revealing her erect and hardened aureoles and pointed nipples to the air, as the cloth rather boorishly only weighted itself down upon the omnipresent meatshaft below. The thing copiously leaving darkened yellowed stains upon the sash. A foul liquid seeming to build upon the hem of the sheet just inches above the floorborards, clumpily flowing downwards onto the wood below with a few light splats, until the stream of viscous nut was solidified - unbroken from the cloth it now drained down from. The elf lazily spooning a mouthful of brandy infused lamb and potato alike, slowly rocking the contents from side to side as she inspected them. "You've made suxh a feast for me tonight darling, but you don't even have the courtesy to sit beside me? What if I wanted to feel and touch you~? Now I am cold and alone, as you glance in embarrassment as I taste your meal~!" It might have sounded better if the Elf still wasn't blatantly groggy, lips enshrining spoon soon after, pulling the silver metal back with nothing remaining but the soft shimmer of saliva upon it. The elf's terth slowly setting to work upon the meal, rolling the meat upon her tongue as she focused on mastication of the food. Her idle, spoon-laden hand slowly stirring the mixture of veggies and meat, already beginning to ready the next bite that would pass her lips. A quiet swallow indicating she was done before, "You cook better than the Islander." chimed out. The clink of glassware upon metal signifying another mouthful being brought where it belong. In that saliva soaked, red muscle filled maw of the Alchemist's.

Merope - Yesterday at 10:03 PM

"Now now, I won't say that a lot of effort went into me making this food but we certainly can't let any of it go to waste; well, I'm sure you wouldn't mind, but I won't stand for it whatsoever," she chided. "If I were to sit by your side, a third of your judgement would be split onto consuming the food, another third onto dragging your still half-slumbering consciousness from Somnus' clutches, and a last, but steadily growing in proportion third on your secondary brain--I speak, of course, of that monstrous leviathan that snakes so readily between your thighs and almost calls out to me in its desire to find the nearest flesh-hole it can shove itself into and breed, rut like any common whore--until you can't hold yourself back and force yourself upon me, foisting your passions and desires wholly on my admittedly to-die-for figure and leaving all the meal to waste. I certainly cannot have that, Danalia. And as for Domi, that can't be helped. She's a hunter and a fucktoy, not a chef. It's only natural that someone such as you or me, so well-versed in the nature of transforming base material into glorious, exalted finished works, should have no trouble cooking up something quite appetizing and filling. Even for an appetite as ridiculously fearsome as yours."She couldn't help but tease, even in her unusually quiet state, considering she was so used to bantering with her partner. At this point, it was more out of habit than any real witty observation or desire to toss remarks back and forth. An impulse or an instinct that she neither did nor could pay mind, nevermind restrain her tongue. Still, judging from her childish smile it was obvious that she enjoyed the peaceful times in the rainforest getaway much more than she usually lets on. Thus satisfied with the social use of her tongue, she teared at her meat until, sufficiently flaky enough, she could spoon the mix of potato and stew to her maws and took a mouthful for herself. While she was never the kind to so blatantly praise herself, it was c lear she was content with the outcome of her stoveside labours and eagerly began to dig into her meal.

Fai - Yesterday at 10:07 PM

Danalia only briefly followed along with the Dark Elf's diatribe. It always seemed to end up like this - one monologuing lewd depravity, whilst the other did just the same alongside them moments afterwards. Her elongated ears twitching softly whilst she went into the immense details of how the other should be smashed into the pots of pans laid about upon the table, smeared with her own food as their hedonistic - nay, gluttenous - desires take hold of their minds and destroys what little thoughts remain. Her body righting itself somewhat, slouched shoulders shifting to thrust chest ouwards even as they sagged with the lack of support, heaving up and down with even her most relaxed of breathes - albeit to say that Danalia had such things within her would be a misnomer of the term. The Elf daintily shoveling another few spoonfuls within her maw, more intent upon the mixture of carrots and potatos with a slather of the juices of the stew, than particularly concentrating upon the meat. Almost shoving the red fixture of their meal to the side when applicable - although with the smile that was upon her lips it was clearly not through intents of malice. Her hand not holding utensil diving downwards underneath table, the loud sound of frayed hairs scratching against one another, audible even through the muffling of sheet. Thud. The whole table shook, something from underneath - girthed and immense - slamming into the underside of their dining room furniture. The ruffling sound of sheets falling to the wayside, making it apparent what it was... That, and the sudden echo'ing noise of nut-slop colliding downwards instead of mere inches, feet. The depths of the Sandman's territory, apparently being fled from the pale Elf's subconscious territory with such little raunchiness from the other. Such an easy Elf to enthrall, but it was hard to blame her with such a leviathan tucked below. Another few gulps, her plate of food dwindling down to nothing more than a fourth of what it once was - predominantly lamb remaining - before she spoke again. "I wouldn't fathom letting a molecule of any of this delightful, stupor inducing famine fixer you've made for us go to waste for even a heart beat. I'm certain that if we shoveled the remnants of what we'll be leaving untouched by our bodily fluids and what isn't smeared into our skin into the Islander's maw, she'll be happy to comply eating until she's a gluttenous, fat pig for us to slice apart." The spoon falling down upon the plate now, grasping for not the wine, but the water. Swirling the liquid in it's glass container, half-lidded crimson eyes starring at the liquid as it's contents squished. "Just because I'm a glorious alchemist does not mean that I would ever bother with such gratuitious sport like this, darling dearest. Not that it isn't appreciated. The food is absolutely divine, but I honestly can't help but wonder that the hours you spent toiling away above that oven of ours wasn't an attempt to lead me there to finish the meal I had previously~. You healed up so nicely after having those mouthfuls of breast torn from your chest. Seared to perfection.. Your texture is simply a delight upon the tongue, to be frank.. So much more succulent than this... Lamb." The last word was dripping with disappointment, the sudden lack of eating clear.

Merope - Yesterday at 10:36 PM

Her personal housewife figure let out a soft sigh, an almost roll of the eyes as she was thrust back into the heat of yeterday's moment in which she was so abruptly, but willingly smashed against the hotiron grill and turned into nothing more than a meal and playtoy for Danalia to consume and abuse. Not that it didn't send her cunt shivering at the thought, already her loins aching and sticky with the need to have Danalia's behemoth fuckspear ram into it regardless of the consequences while she writhed and moaned like some mewling virgin-girl. It was embarrassing to think that she always managed to reduce her to such a state, but it certainly was not unwelcome so long as her piteous pride and the eyes of an ever-controlling society were not fixated on her every motion and walk. As if beneath her thorny, prickly rose bush there lied something more... But, she had no time at all to think about that! No, 'her goal for now was to salvage whatever was left of the meal, though she was quite glad that her housemate was at least courteous enough  to east most of it. As for herself, she indulged in the soft and fluffy bread, and the rich but slightly oversharp wine before pushing her plate away from her in a show of mock-finality, as if to say "I'm done with the meal!" Without so much as a word, she strut aside the table and set aside Danalia's silverware, allowing her to pick up the plate and scrape the rest of the meat and leftovers back into the stewpot. Unsanitary was one word to use for the act, of course, but there was really not much to be done about that! And besides, this would be for Domino. As sweet as she was to her dearest whoremaid, it wouldn't be wrong to consider her some sort of kept puppy to be bred and ptoyed with before setting aside scraps and leftovers, even if they were as tasty as she always made them. "Don't be so ridiculous, I promised you that I'd cook dinner didn't I? And besides, I delight in pleasuring folk with my food anyhow, though I will.. certainly take your suggestion to consideration. As much as I'd love to constantly serve you my meat, I'd really be spoiling you and soon enough your palate will be lacking for delicacies. From now on I'll refrain from going to the market and rely simply on Domino and whatever beast she's brought in through the gates for our meals, if it so please you, darling. As for my meat, well..." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "I wouldn't mind letting you have a taste of my body, but certainly not here in the dining hall--preferrably, I'll meet you in our shared bedchambers after the meal? Unless, of course, you'd rather not return so swift to rest. After all, we do have a balcony and a patio that would fit that nicely," she teased, coy smile failing to bely how much she too wanted a bit of play. And yet she kept her distance, diligently stacking utensils and plates and setting food aside. Cloth over the breadbasket and lid over the stew, she set aside enough in their place for their third companion before setting them back in the kitchen. Then, the dishes which were licked near clean of all sustenance to the sink, before she set aside to wash the dishes and leave Danalia to her own ministrations and decisions. After all, she certainly couldn't keep watch over her partner at all times when she had such work to do! But given her prior statements, it would not be too long a wait before she returned to her side and made their night a tad more enjoyable for the both of them, even despite their limitations.

Fai - Yesterday at 10:57 PM

Danalia simply sat there for a few brief minutes as the loud clanks and clicks of dinnerware and glasses being scrubbed clean rang out from the kitchen - not that she was particularly deep in thought, or so gobsmacked at the idea of the certain meat-toy being so flagrant in her advances, but just relaxing. Enjoying the cool air of their rainforest abode upon her pristine skin. Her hand that once was holding spoon so deftly, running circles over her chiseled abdomen. Softly outlining her rugged muscles as she sat there, her other digits still buried int he depths of her blackened pubic hair that obfuscated knuckles as swiftly as they were prodded into their depths. Leaning far back into the already strained chair, her legs arced outwards. Knees locking themselves within their caps as muscles were stretched below. A subtle and soft 'Nrff' crossing her lips, eyes closing as she simply enjoyed the experience for a brief moment longer - finally shaking off the slight stupor that the Sandman left all of his victim's in for the first few hours of the day. "Good, very good~." Her tone having shifted to almost mirthy delight, a chuckle crossing those lips of hers as chair was abrasively thrust backwards. Rising upwards in such a manner that without both of her hands planting themselves upon the table - her goliath of a fuck pillar would have easily tipped it over and sent what dishes remained upon it's top tumbling to the floor. "Ah.. Good~." An almost congratulation 'well-done' at stopping such a mishap, even as her arousal that was a red as the sun at twilight with it's engorged veins criss-crossing the length bloating vividly with every beat of her heart thudded against the underside once more - but the Elf with her twitching, aggressively needy cock paid it no heed. Turning away from the table and leaving the crumpled remains of sheets upon the floor to have her presludge do with it what it willed, she strutted down the hall. Leaving a slimy trail behind of her her ungodly seed that could melt down metal and impregnate mules alike between her legs throughout their cottage. The wood hissing audibly as it came into contact with the potency of the sludge, but again - these things were irrelevent to the High Elf. So what that if they ever returned to this place in a few weeks time, half of the wood would be rotted and the place would be inhospitable to sheltered life? There were other, far more important things rolling through her mind. The Alchemist strutting into the kitchen, thunderous claps of meat from her third-leg slamming wantonly from thigh-to-thigh making it clear that she was within the room, far before the other's eyes fell upon the soaked form of her 'pseudo-lover'. A grope of that meaty rear end of the dark one's all that met her, before breasts were compacted against shoulders. The sweltering heat of the gargantuan pillar below that likely could be charring the wood around them if she kept in one place for too long, almost immediately pressed against her thighs whilst she cleaned. "I'm done waiting for you to finish, darling~." A sickly hot and wet stroke of tongue met the back of Merope's tongue, trailing upwards through even her gorgeous blonde locks to suckle on the base of her ear. Lashing against it right before her drum before plump lips kissed at it teasingly to let out another whisper. "Outside. The patio~. No one can complain when the floorboards are charred, splintered and shattered. Impaled upon you and crackling with flames in a craterous valley aroundst us, no?~" By the God's above, it was as if Danalia expect the apocolypse to befall the dark meat if they were to indulge in their desires. But the Elf didn't particularly cling to the other - a swat on the hips. A clawing of what flesh was bared by nails that had no right to be so sharp, before she slink away. Leaving that virile path of yellowed ball-batter behind her that had pooled inches between both of their thighs in the brief smattering of seconds they were combined as one unit, that lead to one place only - it was up to the Dark One to hurry up and join her.

Merope - Today at 12:05 AM

The diligent kitchen-dame was far too enthralled in the laborious task of scrubbing porcelain clean, for once free to set plates back in their proper place instead of holding back tears as her domestic "partner" so obliviously corroded her platters, her china away with whatever acidic solvent she passed off as gonad-produce; though to her credit, it was her own fault that she used anything with enough value to provoke sentimentality at its destruction near the vicinity of the blunt and single-minded elfin tinkerer. In fact, she was so caught up in her own work that she didn't even hear the footsteps, the slight hissing of wood being burnt into a glop of chemicals that she let out a girlish yelp as soft, supple breasts pressed in close onto her form and the heat of another body so casually entwined itself with her own warm emanations. A flush graced her cheeks and nose, a lighter gasp as tongue met nape and greedily snaked its way up her neck and to her ears—it wouldn't be correct to say that her pointed protrusions were sensitive outside of a medical sense, but the closeness, the immediacy to Danalia's breath left little room for her not to be flustered, or at the very least a bit bothered in her loins. Even her words didn't truly sink in to her consciousness until a command was given, the dusk-blazoned alchemist enraptured as she was in the sound of her "partner's" voice and the growing desire which branched out from her hooded love button, from her glistening, flowery womanhood and snaked into her thighs, her abdomen, and her core; she had to bite down on her lip to hold back her raggedy voice. Still, she was sober enough mentally to give a curt and understanding nod at her command, before she let the researcher slink away. It wasn't until the steps were well out of the reach of her ears that she deigned to let out a relieved sigh, not that she was left alone per se but rather that the pressure of their immediacy was for the moment lifted off her back like a weight shrugged off metaphorically in a terrible philosophical book written by a Russian refugee under a pseudonym which sparked the imaginations of thousand naïve idealists in an alternate timeline. Her eyes focused and her breathing resumed a regular, rapt pattern, though even freed from the direct influence of the lady she was still struggling to maintain a casual, laid-back persona as she worked on the dishes. Seconds, then minutes passed by while her mind played out her fantasies, the stack of dishes and drinking wares—certainly not excessively numerous, numbering merely what they had eaten from and what their lovely home-cooked meal was served on—slowly growing into its complete state. At that point, she could have easily tossed her apron off and skipped away to the patio like some virgin slut ready to be taken by her crush that she had only seen up until then from afar. It was almost infuriating, the effect that Danalia had on her in private, considering how much of an ice-barrier she seemed to put up in public always and the wit-smacked remarks she always so casually traded with her partner. She had to fight herself, to struggle with the idea that she so easily became meek and submissive as soon as all pretensions were dropped and she simply could indulge in her own pleasure. Of course, she knew that it was not as if she would devote her whole being to the decadent degenerate and toss away her life's work and ambition to become a mindless bimbo cock-slave whore, and that she was simply entertaining and pampering herself with a rare delicacy—my, the thought of flattering her partner already made her strong conscience a bit sick in the gut—and yet she couldn't help but feel a bit defeated at how easily she falls. Though of course, her small mischievous smile betrayed how much pleasure she derived too from that simple fact. For now, she simply made her way back to their sleeping chambers, the place that she had subtly already checked off from the list of places that she would find acceptable to "make love" on, or whatever sick, twisted, perverted substitution for the divine yet animalistic embrace of body and emotion they would use to enflame their passions; but she had no delusions of meeting with the elf in such a place, instead making her way into the closet where she kept her multifarious assorted garments for her to accentuate and gratify her admittedly voluptuous and sensuous figure. Apron was left in the kitchen in convenient story-telling device fashion, and her modest outfit was pulled apart piece by piece until she exposed her lightly sweat-coated body to the crisp air that blew in from the open windows. Then, a moment of silence save for the humming to herself that sounded much like a machine automaton well at work. Eyes glazed and scanned over the plethora of choices until, a few moments later, the quiet "Ah!" of confirmed choice sang out from her lips. Up her legs, a string bikini, except thin wire-strings held not just the slim piece of red silk which did little to hide her wet pussy that bulged through and revealed its contours, but also upon it thin beads of gold that lent her an exotic aura. For her heaving slut udders, the matching pair, though the coiled, bead-adorned wire struggled to hold back her heavy milk-orbs that yearned to break through and be freed. Even her areolas, and pointed nipples painfully jutted out from the garment and revealed their erotic contours through the bikini top. But still, her outfit was not totally complete. To accentuate and finish the display piece, she slid gold bands up her succulent thighs and toned arms, accompanied with bangles for her ankles and her wrists. Around her dainty neck, a collar of gold engraved in some foreign style that no doubt made her look some whore dancer. Of course, this was by no means off the mark. The band which adorned her waist was festooned with jingling bells, which made each motion sound out like a mating call—and considering the act she was about to commit with Danalia, there was no doubt the beautiful harmonies and symphonies they would be playing together with the undulations of their bodies. Donning her usual robe to hide herself from view, as if a veil or curtain hiding a debauched piece of "art," she made her way towards the patio. Each step she took may have been muffled, and the jingle of the bells were partially muted by the long drape of cloth that hid her form and pressed against her waistband, but even then, only a fool or someone enthralled by some mundane event would be unable to hear her approach. Door slid open, stained glass filtering lights through as she exposed herself to the outside elements and presented her illustrious form to the expectant high-elf, fully aware that she was late to their appointed encounter. Yet to her, the eroticism and the "art" of their "lovemaking" served to justify her detour to their tryst, a knowing grin on her smile. She had no need to seduce Danalia, of course, her bouncy and plush rear and string-hoisted udders doing the job well; but ever the dreamer, she couldn't help but play around a bit and happily tugged on the shawl, letting its pretty hand-woven canvas fall behind her and off her shoulders, thereby exposing her exotic skin and quaint, gaudy getup. There would be no doubt about it for any onlooker: she was a total whore, a courtesan-dancer for her Lord or Lady, or whatever her paying companion wished to be called.What was more surprising would be the way in which the getup so snugly fit her curvy hourglass body and in how she moved her figure, as if each motion was well-practiced or experienced. In this too, there was no doubt. Somewhere in her well-pedigreed past she had been a dancing courtesan, entertaining clients with more than just the form in her body but also in the sticky, tight fuck-tunnel whose trimmed, heart-shaped bush boldly jutted out from the bikini top below. One step, two towards Danalia, and her meek arms folded behind her back to expose more of her body for her while a slightly embarrassed blush graced her cheeks, and yet she still bowed courteously, a curtsy with her whole body that caused her bells and bangles to jingle and chime musically. "Forgive me for taking so long," she began to tease. "I realize that, as my cooking failed to delight your sensible palate so, I would at the very least make myself more presentable before you indulge in my.... flavor."

Fai - Today at 12:53 AM

Danalia hummed softly to herself as she strutted out upon the patio. The winds rustling through the jungle canopy above, as insects screamed out their mating calls in the midday sun. Wooden boards creaking underneath the Elf's weight, steadily shifting herself from one foot to another until she simply slapped her nude frame into the maple lounge chair that wouldn't be remiss upon the side of a pool that adorned their patio. Nails groaning and creaking from the sudden slamming down of weight, but the Elf didn't particularly pay them any mind. Her monstrous appendage between her legs throbbing with the force of a sledgehammer against the inside of her skull with every second that past. Minutes ticking by as she simply sat - both hands buried rather callously scrapping through her matted mess of pubic hair that seemed to always enraptured her wandering digits with the gunk and sludge that was always apparently accumulated upon their lengths. Entire fistfuls of hair combed through by fingers, leaving streaks of blue 'cleaned' locks as the filth was piling upon itself within the spaces between her clawing digits - only for the Elf to rather easily flip her hand over, using the pubes as little more than a rag to swipe off what she had just wrenched from hair with more than a small amount of effort. Her gargantuan length resting upon her thighs, jutting out in a rather debauched manner to hang inches above her ankles. The potent veins that rivaled the width of her wrists alone visibly engorging themselves thick and fat with every beat of the Elf's heart. The sun casting long shadows upon the cock with the numerous grooves and bumps that made up her equine cunt-breaking length. The cockslit no longer capable of being seen underneath the torrential downpour of sticky pre-ejaculate that flowed like tar and clung to the wood much the same. Only spilling down between the inch-gaped seams between the darkened carcasses of trees that were meant for air to flow beneath the sweaty legs of those who sat upon it - nothing more than 'drains' that were swiftly overcome by the chunky nut slop being poured upon their hissing sinews. The mountainous globules piling atop each other until instead of splattering upon the wood, it simply flowed down it's own yellowed sludge in a ever-widening pool that obfuscated more of the chair and floor below, than should have been humanly possible. All thanks to those unfathomable semen factories that looked fit to bursting between the Elf's muscular thighs, pressed together from her laying frame, the wrinkles that were once practically folded over one another in leathery skin stretched taut - revealing the 'stained in' layers of perspiration and sweat that were blatantly steaming upon the air, which were draining down the massive orbs, but getting nowhere quick. The Elf simply occupying herself in her thoughts, knowing full well that if the dark Alchemist did not come, her statements would have brought hell and fury upon her head like the depths of the underworld have not even witnessed - so of course there wasn't a worry that she would not be there, even if more than a 'little' late. Those elongated hearing devices twitched vividly as not only the door rang out upon the sliding wheels  it rested upon, but the audible jingle and jangle of bells muffled underneath cloth blatantly rung out. Those red orbs that were her eyes, glued to the robe-clad patio-intruder's frame. Not out of shock, or surprise - but sheer enrapture. There had been many a times where the Elf had donned attractive clothing, dressed herself neatly only to be taken by the other's monstrous prick - but there wasn't a time that she could particularly point to and recall where there was anything like this involved. The act of her hiding her supple meat sending her thoughts into bewildered overdrive until that robe fell away and the azure elf's mouth fell downwards. "Ah." An almost cute moan of outright lust passing her lips as she sat upon her rotund ass. Her pulsating length, twitching it's head from it's relatively sagging stand to upright and erect. The red meat's arteries and blood flow increasing by a magnitude that had every inch of skin upon that Goliath stretched taut, gushing cockhead protruding directly at the succulent, red-garbed Dark Elf. The spewing increase of pre-ejaculate that was once a stream twisted and malformed into nothing more than a proverbial waterfall as the nuts below were sent into overdrive. Wood, already charring between the Elf's legs and there wasn't a singular fucking thing to stop it - not would their owner be in the right mind set to even try. Star-struck, the light din of bells ringing with every movement of her voluptuous frame making those massive ears of Danalia's quiver and quake, desperate to pick up on every pitch and tone that accompanied her swaying movements that strained those tiny triangles that could barely - nay, they could not - contain those immense slut udders that the Elf had sank her teeth into a multitude of times in sheer bliss. Saliva overflowed from the Elf's lips in an almost comical display, sending that semi-opaque fluid colliding against her chest by dripping down her chin with loud splats before she lifted her grime soaked hand, and wiped it clean. Tongue stringing out of her mouth to lap at the overflow, to wet her lips for the coming words. Eyes glued not to her face, but to that valley of cleavage that was so prominently on display as the other curtsied. "You did very well in making yourself.. Ah, presentable~. I'm certain that whatever royal court that had those swaying hips and succulent thighs within must have been milked dry daily and left in a stupor of blissful after-orgasm that lasted for hours on end." It was a compliment. A compliment about what a successful cum-draining whore she likely was in her past lives, but one none the less. "But I simply cannot forgive such a... Lavish waste of my time. I was sitting here underneath these trees for minutes, dark-elf. Do you believe my complexion can handle such things, hrm~?" The way her hand still enshrining her pubes gripped and twisted until knuckles were white betraying what her teasing tone of voice did not. That virile length practically roaring for attention and release, and it was a miracle in and of itself that Danalia hadn't rose and torn that outfit to shreds. That she hadn't made true on all her promises of cunt-ruination and branding her permanently as an owned meat-cunt. "Nrf. Come here. Now. Or do you wish to destroy the very foundations of our abode by forcing me to rise until you can't anymore~." It was a strange sight, Danalia holding back in this most heated of moments. Her face nothing more than beat red, matching the crimson hue of that length below that was doing everything in it's might to rend asunder it's own skin with it's adamant and abject rigidity. Balls audibly churned in production. The gurgles that could almost be mistake for resonating from a stomach blatantly coupling themselves with light movements and shifts of filled-to-bursting nuts making it as clear as day. Nostrils flared outwards like some breeding stallion in heat, lips curling backwards in an almost obscene display of white teeth grinding upon themselves in some sort of twisted simulacrum of the Flehmen's response and a smirk. The muscles upon the Elf's legs twitched - until her willpower faltered and the coherency of thoughts caved inwards into nothing more than her undiluted lusts and glutenous desires. The simple fact that she had lasted long enough to even bother to ask what she wanted - a more respectful nod than most bimbo'd cock socket got in her presence. The Azure Alchemist wanted her charge, wanted her meat - and sure as fucking hell wanted that drenched love-tunnel that was running juices down her thighs so thoroughly it stained the golden bangles that adorned them. The Elf did not 'steadily' rise, she lunged from where she was sprawled, cock unceremoniously colliding with the wood of the patio floor before legs sent her upwards- hands groping at those meaty udders that would have looked absurd on anything human from their sheer size, and clamped upon them like vices. The thin string that made up her Dancer's regalia, already snapped - ripped in twain with golden beads spiraling downwards to the patio below, where only one set of feet now belonged. The cunt-wrecker having slammed itself between her thighs - rather, the tip wantonly collided right where that heart-shaped tuft of pubic hair was exposed, relentlessly grinding down over her engorged clit like sandpaper through drenched cloth. Stretching juice-laden skin taut and more than likely breaking her spin from the force of the impact alone, until it splayed her meaty fuck-pillow thighs apart. That sanguine infused fuck pillar continuing it's charge until that thickened ass rightly hot-dogged more than a 'small' amount of that upward tilting fuckmeat. Even the entire weight of her sheathe nestled upon it's base was nothing to the titanic pillar of virility and it's furnace heat that was now sublimating the two of them into sweat-drenched messes. Lips collided against lips, as that saliva soaked muscle slammed into the back of the courtesan's throat. The dicked one blatantly no longer wishing to be kissed back, instead she staked her claim. Stabbing her stake of tongue into the farther depths it could reach whilst viscous slobber that would seem uncanny even within a mutt's mouth, flooded the other's maw. Molar and flesh along, scrapped and scrubbed against by the tastebud laden flesh of the Elf. Breasts compacted together, whilst filth-laden hands roamed the meat that it had been lusting for, for what had felt like an eternity.

Merope - Today at 2:16 AM

The rush of adrenaline and endorphins that suddenly hit her circulatory track was, without a doubt, exhilarating. Even despite her background in such tantalizing carnal pleasantries and amusements, despite the sultry burlesque being so well-versed in blending the arts of dance, music, and raunchy lovemaking in her previous profession as a scandalous courtesan in the esteemed court of the Sultan of Zanzibar, she still managed to feel the ecstatic blitz overtake her senses and, more importantly, her emotions. Pleased. Not satisfied, but a bit proud. No amount of nights with Parthian dignitaries and Khemite princes would ever liken itself to the way she felt when she saw the usually quite deliberate whoremonger suddenly devolve into choppy breaths, garbled sentences and eyes that darted in a way that betrayed how she wished her hands and body to dart as well It was not as if this cerulean-tinted, scarlet-eyed profligate was in any way the best lay of her life, nor unmatched—in her long time as a connoisseur of lustful trysts, she’s had her fair share of mind-blowing sex and soul-enrapturing fucks-sessions—by any other lover she’s taken on.
She simply knew how to appreciate it when she could feel like a virgin again, like her first night with a divine counterpart in the strictly-for-consummation bed being deflowered by a godhead, or when first a mortal managed to make her writhe in orgasm and euphoria that she never thought possible, nor the filth and decadence that soon enraptured her heart. She had, after all, in all her many incarnations and life-cycles, always been the black sheep of her pronged sisterhood. My, what her mother or sisters would think if they looked past mere shadows of rumors and bore witness to the indulgence of her hedonistic lifestyle that she had relished in! But now, her whole attention was as far away from her past as it could be and sternly fixated on the heated high-elf who quite suddenly and abruptly lunged at her from her seat and a surprisingly decently put-together sentence. No surprise that her words could produce such an effect on the high and mighty, but pleasurable nevertheless. Her eyes caught sight of the fuck-meat monster that swung freely between the lust-filled degenerate’s meaty thighs below filth-blackened bush, veins throbbing and popping and totally bursting with the scalding-hot blood which her immortal heart beat so violently through her systems. It was enough to turn her gold-iridescent kaleidoscope irises shimmer and turn into naught more than heart-shaped glints, a white-flashed grin on her lips before it was obscured from vision by the equally sudden labial embrace. Her partner’s set of kissers were plump, soft and wet despite themselves, considering how much she had been salivating over the courtesan’s body. Ah, the saliva!—how it made her shiver in delight as the thick liquid invaded the back of her mouth and led the way down her throat for the long, flexible chunk of red muscle which the elf used to taste the inside of her cheeks. Eyes almost rolled up in pleasure at this simple act, though her consciousness held on tight enough for her to suddenly regain her own senses. First the sensation of erect shaft forcing her backside cheeks wide open—to say that its girth was rival to that of her forearm was an understatement, and already her cunt began to tighten and coil about whatever toy she had slid inside of her love-tunnel to distract herself from the tedious ennui that occasionally struck during her cooking hours. It was pleasant and degrading, to feel her body used as little more than a pleasure toy, to feel her cheeks stretched so wide from their regular state simply for Danalia’s gratification and sexual pleasure. A sort of dirty enjoyment that only hedonists and libertines a third as far-gone as she could ever indulge in, not that it was some sort of exclusionary gate that few had ever reached; in fact, her own philosophy had certainly believed that every person contained the seed of dark pleasure within their hearts.But, that was beside the point as the second sharp feeling dug into her judgement and let a cheeky grin resume its place on her glossy lips which now were so roughly smothered by the equivalent pillow-soft set of her counterpart. A few more moments, just a few more to enjoy the feeling of being so crudely and artlessly assaulted, pampered before she set her drive to use. A hand snaked up her body, tracing a waving line from her hooded, swollen clit, past her pelvis and toned abdomen to her diaphragm, below her heaving udders and then to Danalia’s—except, rather than returning the favor and grabbing at those fat-accentuated flesh orbs which bounced from the lust-lost alchemist’s chest, she laid her palm flat over her sternum and pushed her away with a strength surprising for her, even despite her voluptuous figure. Steps in a line forward, continuously shoving the high-elf back until she’s courteously thrown onto her chair again. She would take her turn now, though it certainly was not as if she was assuming a more dominant position. She had no delusions as to her place, but she simply wanted to maximize the pleasure she could derive for both with a little gesture borrowed from her previous life as a court entertainer draining the balls of entire audiences of their contents and walking away still full of life to a more virile, potent prince’s private chambers. Thighs cushioned either side of her enchantee’s hips, pressing down tight to make sure that she was like a lustful vice keeping her viewer pinned properly. Each sway of her hips made a jingle, and that continued to apply as she slid her rear up off the behemoth of a cunt-reaver so she could push the beast onto Danalia’s abdomen. But, she was not quite ready to begin her show yet—she still had one last vital ingredient before she could dive into the world of pleasure with her dear audience.A palm lay flat on her collar bone, fingers outstretched while her other arm was raised over her head and hand bent behind her to show off her beautiful slut-udders and chiseled torso. The lower hand snaked down, sliding in the thin line of her cleavage before tugging on her bikini top right at the clasp between her triangle-barriers which kept her flesh at bay for one reason alone. A quick snap, a swift tug and the string snapped, beads of gold falling onto her partner’s body and rolling off her while the piece of string and slip’s fell off of her, dusky milk-orbs bulging out and heaving in front of the high-elf’s face for her viewing delight. As they burgeoned out freely in the crisp, cold air of the nighttime jungle, she let her lips purse and pucker out while her pearly-white incisors pressed down on the lower pillowy half as if to stifle a whimper. But she was not content with such meagre displays, and continued to trail down her body and past her abdomen, down to her cunt which after her counterpart’s lunge lay bare and unadorned save for the heart-trimmed bush and sticky juices that trickled off her lips. Spreading those petals wide, her body began to shake and convulse as if she was exerting herself, as if she was straining to expel something from within her…
Within a few moments, the faintest bulb could be spotted from her love-tunnel, and yet a few more pushes and a glass flask began to emerge. Taking her fingers to pinch its neck, she gave it a quick and swift tug so that she could slide the whole containment apparatus out of her own lust-cavern. It seemed that she had been carrying around one of her alchemical concoctions with her, and the whole miniature bottle seemed to be totally soaked in her lewd juices and sticky in her desire. It glowed a strange lucid color, despite it no doubt being some spagyric conjured up from an exotic flower, a miraculous bush, or a foreign, alien mushroom. And yet, having uncapped it and allowed some of its content to spill out from the small bottle, it had an aroma that one could only associate with either the sweetness of honey, or the sharp bitterness of a woman’s nethers—and it seemd as if it wasn’t simply because she had kept it there for so long.Thus, properly equipped, she tilted the concoction over so it spilled its contents totally onto her huge shaft, long enough to prod its tip between her own milky, alabaster cleavage. A simple drive elixir, an aphrodisiac that even an apprentice could brew no doubt, and yet devastatingly efficient and effective at its sole duty. Already the viscous fluid began to seep into even her grime-caked beast, invading her nerves and setting each ending ablaze with the need to fuck. To harden a rigid fuck-machine even beyond its typical frightening state which could scare whores into leaving their craft entirely despite guild sanctions, it was an amusing little potion. Now, she could begin. She leaned down, at such an angle that her breasts fit directly above her counterpart’s and her plush lips could graze at her cheekbones. Her breath was hot, steamy, possessed by her primal heat-state that could only be satiated by her literally steaming cock. Fingers deftly sunk into both grime and fluid, stretching, and making mock snow angels in the filth to coat her slut-ravager with the aphrodisiac.Muscles tightened like gears turning in a machine so she could drag palm up and down that shaft, massaging and squeezing all the while that so all of her up to her tip and down to her base was covered evenly. Once satisfied enough with her work, she moved even lower to another mark—those cum-refineries large and heavy enough that, were Danalia to slam them unto Merope’s face unannounced, her skull would without a doubt shatter and crack from its weight. She didn’t concern herself in lingering or investing too much time onto those fine semen-heavy udders, but each knead-motion applied another layer of her personal lovemaking concoction deep into her pores and rejuvenated her already overworked gonads. It was tedious, but it was satisfying work to prepare her “lover” so, until even she was convinced that her cunt could take the whole length, slit long enough to compare to her knuckles, inside of her without unnecessary tearing and bleeding. And yet she still looked forwards to even the slightest pain, another sign of how her lover could make her feel like a virgin playing with a first infatuation mistaken for love.
The musical jingle-chimes played again as she rose like the licks of a flame, like a snake curling out of its burrow hood-extended in an enrapturing dance. Her hand which so indecently spread her cunt wide and produced the bottle, now forgotten, and thrown onto the wooden flooring, and sunk countless fluids into the sky-touched researcher’s fuck-meat now angled and raised it up to align properly with her cunt. There she would grind her flower up and down on that tip, simply allowing her juices to flow and mix with the precum to form her own impromptu mixture and soak the spearhead sufficiently. As much as she would love to continue teasing her “lover” like this as her trade seemed to ask of her, she knew she could not keep Danalia pinned down and from turning her over and raping her, hunched over against the railings for so long. And besides, how could she continue that way without wanting to have her cunt reamed and stuffed full of the potent, virile, intoxicating cock-meat? She had no choice but to obey her instincts and, hands snaked down and pressed against her carnal paramour’s thighs for balance, split herself on that mighty lust-spear.Her jaw fell and mouth spread agape, eyes wide and doe-like in shock as the sensation burned through her nerve endings and up her spine, filling her brain with dopamine and her heart with adrenaline in dosages far more severe than when she simply began to tease the elf. Her cunt began to convulse and tighten, but even despite her reaction she merely had the tip inside of her, and it was that thought which drove her wild. After all, when just Danalia’s tip brought out a feeling that most of her partners could only do with wild, heavy cunt-raping all the way to her uterus, what could be said of her once that spearhead kissed the back of her uterus and began on its way to filling her womb with the woman’s seed? She couldn’t help but throw her head back and gasp in pleasure, hips gyrating and grinding in need of the elf to force her own path into her body and, as promised, brand the walls of her cunt, and mark her as Danalia’s property in a way only her mighty cock could. She had become lost in the pleasure, and needed even more to be pushed over the edge of conscious sanity.

Fai - Today at 3:36 AM

Danalia hissed out in anger as she was pushed back, stumbling upon her own feet haphazardly until she fell back into the chair that she had so ravenously lunged from for her desires - but something in the depths of her mind stayed what would usually be a maw breaking fist. Instead nails digging deep into the wood until it splintered around her tips with a resounding crack. Teeth grinding upon themselves so thoroughly that the sound of her jaw snapping and regenerating itself was blatantly apparent.  Danalia's frantic and rapid heart beat a mile a minute staring up at the courtesan and her lascivious display that only served to make her cock scream out in desire - but still her feet stayed, Spread out against the seat until both of her heels were flat against the floorboards. Her monstrous behemoth protruding high into the air as the fuck-doll quaked and shook her flesh about. Revealing her mammoth breasts to the Elf that was well past the stage of 'thinking', simply knowing that what was on display was alluring none-the-less. Teeth gnashing against her lower lip whilst those crimson hues stayed locked to every inch of the harlot's sweaty frame that was slowly being revealed. That supple mocha skin that glistened in the moonlight tantalizing to every one of her senses.
The simple aroma that wafted from the other - even if it was mostly of cunt juices and hedonistic anticipation of what was to come - continuing the flaring of her nostrils like some untrained and uneducated beast left to slobber upon itself in the wilderness. Merope's needy cunt folds being spread apart by those digits only reminding the Azure Alchemist that she should be slamming herself hilt-deep until that cunt either broke or her massive nuts released their loads, until the glint of glass caught her eye. An unknown factor that sent shivers up her spine. Alchemical reagents and their applications, what was and wasn't dangerous to hold within a glass vial within the walls of a cunt - something that happened surprisingly often - all rushing to the forefront of her brain for a brief fraction of a second until the aroma hit her. Cunt juice and honey - there was little else it could be, and her face relaxed. Knuckles that were once white with unkempt desires struggling to stay controlled, releasing their stress - what was to come was going to be quite stupendous upon the nerves, even if agonizing in every conceivable way at the same time. Tongue extending from her maw in anticipation as the vial was tipped and it's bodily-heated warmth was drained downwards upon her pulsating meat. A moan crossing those plump folds in a an instant, almost quivering in it's tone and anticipation. The bulging veins only growing thicker as the application of the potion hit it's mark squarely dead center. Driving the lust and libido of the Alchemist upwards a thousand fold until the simplest of strokes and touches, the mere act of the cold air of the rain forest blowing over her shaft that was thrust high into the air - sending the azure one squirming underneath.Feet digging into the wood until splinters adamantly segmented themselves into her heels, blood freely flowing from the soles of her feet that added nothing more than sensory overload to the already overstimulated Alchemist. Her world was awash with the lightest of jingles and jangles, the movements and ministrations that soaked aphrodisiac into every pore and glans upon her cock, slathered upon her skin whilst it soaked through the millimeters of grime that encrusted the length sending jolts of pleasure directly into the Elf's succumbing gray-matter. It could almost be viewed as a submissive act by Danalia, to not immediately be raping this poor, docile sleeve that had nothing within her tasks besides increasing the hedonistic delights the two shared - but still she stayed her hand. Letting her over productive semen refineries be molded and malleable kneaded. The hot semen tanks that steamed against the sweat that soaked them, just as receptive to the aphrodisiac as everything else; poorly, but none-the-less the ripe orbs began to burn with the desire. Rising upwards against the Elf's thighs until they were 'neatly' - as neatly as two grotesque containers of filthy nut sludge could be with how they were larger than the dark-one's skull each. Skin completely taut, not even a single wrinkle left upon the veined flesh that gave way inches to Merope's kneading fingertips before finally becoming as hard as rock - the actual containers below, so full that it was almost surprising that they could handle such 'tender' touches without bursting from overcapacity.The Elf rocking to-and-fro now, the pleasure and desires that wracked her mind and told her to do the most obscene of things to her Elven courtesan nearly wining out as she stood above her like some sort of deity on high taunting the mortals below with her cock-length firmly trapped betwixt those gratuitously meaty thighs that radiated a heated stupor all their own, until her companion's shift in weight suddenly compressed her draining cockslit directly against the only hole of hers that it should ever nut inside in the first fucking place - her cunt. Her love-tunnel. Her fuck hole that was put on this earth to take cock and to be impregnated by them. The slimy wetness sublimating into some depraved concoction of nut-sludge within moments, the hot seed gushing against her folds like a geyser that overflowed and drenched her 'heart' pubic hair in the filthy fluid that almost immediately clung to the strands like glue. Already within brief seconds of their contact, Danalia's rancid nut-tar already had its sight's set upon the depths of the other's frame. It's corrupting taint sinking into her blond pubic hair and draining of it's pigment to a whitened platinum. The squirming and virile tadpoles burrowing against her folds like a thousand hot knives stabbing into her flesh in a desperate attempt of not just burning every nerve; but destroying them as well. Contorting them with trillions of swimmers diving into her flesh - into her sensitive love button that was all but unprotected from their shared state of arousal and aphrodisiac - that desperately sought out a fertile egg to claim, before being swiftly washed away by another wave of their brethren bursting from the dam that was Danalia's over sized cockslit that sought the exact same prize with the exact same amount of success; nothing more than reddened, almost bruising skin to slam themselves.Not that it lasted very long in the exhales that passed between the two, until knees sank and balance was all but eradicated. The potent thigh-thick girth of her cock head spearing into her folds just barely inches that was incomparable to even ten fists slamming into her depths, was just about as pleasurable to the one on the giving end. The vice grip of those folds as they refused to snap or tear, the sinews instead of giving way and stretching to make room untilt hey were little more than stringy muscles incapable of handling anything more than an elephants foot with a simulacrum of tightness - simply clamped down harder on her needy shaft like a depraved hand of God hell-bent on milking the utmost sensation from her cock tip. If nothing more than a brief moment, even her cockslit was prevented from frothing out her unrepentant and untoward seed into the entrance of her beginning-to-be-ruined genitalia. The anticipation for having the rest of her burning shaft that was steaming off a cloud of it's own odorous stench and what remained of incapable of being absorbed aphrodisiac  that visibly contorted upon the air was almost unbearable. The seconds ticking by, turning into a multitude of heaving breathes that soaked the entirety of Danalia's frame in a vapid layer of perspiration that was snapping the ends of her nerves one by one. She was supposed to be waiting, she should have been waiting, she should be taking things at the pace of the guttural harlot above her that was nothing more than a living sheathe for her mighty cock that deserved to have her veins permanently branded into her cunt-walls and her uterus so thoroughly destroyed that nothing more than her viral tar sludge could ever hope to keep it impregnated by the barren husk of fertility that she would be contorted into by her virility.That's what she should be doing, it was the respectful thing to do to something that was so capable and willing to keep itself whole and intact for their session of almost virginal-esque 'love making'. But as the moments ticked into what felt and to Danalia's mind was an eternity, hands lunged outwards. Gripping down upon the hips with such force thumbs dug into pelvic bones through fatty flesh, and with a righteous squelch she was wrenched downwards. Not in a slow and steady descent that acclimated her hole to the brutal meat that was going to make it it's new glove, no. That was nowhere near enough what was required, what was demanded by every brain cell within Danalia's brain. Fucking. Rutting. Pounding. Sex. It called to her like it called to her ancestors thousands of years ago before the beginnings of language were even formed, so she took it with both arms - and slammed it downwards until ass collided with semen contained below with such a tumultuous smack that birds within the trees above squawked out and fled their nests for fear of predator. The cock head splitting her apart further than what was proclaimed by Moses to be done with the Red Sea, the clamping and clenching folds capable of little resistance as the entire body weight of their owner - and the entire weight of the intruder's might - coalesced into one ungodly penetrating force that was spreading her apart and sending bones and organs alike aside. Whatever drug that soaked the entire length of her cock becoming little more than a pathetic attempt at lube that was becoming scrubbed into every inch and nerve-ending within her cunt that was becoming more distended by the microsecond. That cock-head slamming against her crevice and destroying the ring of muscles, protruding upon the sacred ground that was her uterus, into the very depths of her womb where eggs were happily given by her ovulating ovaries. Ovum alike, smashed into the membrane thin walls of her womb as that titanic body wrecker hit it's home true, and continued further upwards. Aphrodisiac and immortal being the only saving grace from destroying her from the inside now, as torso contorted and spine was knocked askew. Vertebrae wantonly pressing out against the back of her - well, back - that outlined every bump and grove of her spinal column with precision that only could generally be achieved by the simple tearing of skin. The only thing that saved her rib cage from becoming nothing more than a secondary lining for that gargantuan length stabbing upwards, was her diaphragm getting in the way. That singular thrust that had both of her massive slut-udders propped upon nothing more than virile fuck meat from the inside, knocking the air clean out of her lungs - and it was nigh on impossible to say when she would be capable of taking another breath. Her frame so thoroughly fucked around this god pillar that it physically could not. The organs, the womb that capped the spewing cock-head, all too tightly wound aroundst the meat to even allow the idea of breathing to be an acceptable notion. No, that was not what she was being used for now - 'to breathe' - now, she was a cunt. A sheathe for that godly appendage that hundreds of more docile whores have likely died upon before even reaching the halfway point upon her shaft - and within moments of taking the head, and a few bestial heaves later, the dark elven alchemist had succeeded them what most had trained years to attempt to have within them - and by whatever Gods or Goddesses, the demons and djinns from the depths of Hell and sands, that cackled in delight at the obscenity and feverish gluttony of flesh and pleasures the duo indulged in that corrupted all aroundst - whatever mystical force that watched them with bated breathes from the sheer flagrancy and hedonism of their existence, did it feel fucking good.
The glove-grip of her love-tunnel nothing more than a thousand constantly milking tongues slathering against her veins that burned and sizzled the very cunt juice that was servicing her shaft. Hot wafts of steam wantonly billowing from where cunt met cock in the depths of pubes below. The slight hissing of released air and the popping of flesh audible to their sensitive ears, even as the jingling of bells from Danalia's fevered bucking hips drowned out little else. There was no 'thrusting' in this matter, there was no 'slamming of hips'. It was simply obtuse grinding into her folds. Her cock swaying from one edge of her distended torso, to another. Shifting the Dark Elf's entire weight around her shaft as if it were nothing more than liquid to be stirred, regardless of consequences. Bruising the only muscle that allowed her to breathe heavily as the tip of cock smashed against it again and again with it's sideways motions through the lining of womb. The simple act and indulgence in the heights of this mixture of pleasure and pain, enough for the Elf's needy desires. Her body leaning upwards, compressing slut-udder against heaving white breast once more, to simply contort herself against the other. Not in love or tender embrace, but to lay claim further. To make certain that she could feel from the outside every inch her cock shifted whilst her ass began to rock back and forth, slithering her monstrosity about as if it were nothing more than a clamping sheathe to keep her cock warm. Stretching it, 'acclimating' it not that she was completely soaked in juice-and-womb alike. This was how it should be. Branding the whore's untamed fuckhole from the inside out with her burgeoning cock's ungodly heat evaporating seed and cunt fluid alike, whilst she could barely even move. Incapable of even screaming from how her length prevented even that simplest of pleasures.

Kicxjo - Last Wednesday at 7:41 PM

That heady beast-tip that capped the end of her paramour’s stiff, throbbing, equine fuck-plough whose only purpose was to tear into the fertile—or otherwise, though fertile was without a doubt preferable in any case—fields of maidens and years-experienced escorts alike was always a welcome intrusion into the noble alchemist’s honey-dripping flower, petals spread and drenched as they were in her cunt-juices and love-extract. The firm grip about her wrists was nothing more than a subtle reminder, a firm aide-mémoire that regardless of the countless back-and-forth exchanges, the myriad venom-tipped words lunged and thrust against the other in their endless spars of pseudo-wit and charm, she would always be the whore, the bitch, the courtesan to the patron, the owner, and the lord that Danalia was when it came to the affairs of the bedside. Never mind the long list of lovers, of each gender, that graced the records of entries into and exits out from her far-from-humble manorial abode, nor the many tales and legends of the men brought to their knees and who would lavish cart after cart of lavish display and show of wealth to win the hand of Merope, and a stay in her velvet-clad bed, for merely one night—Danalia was in control, that azure-locked peer who know so greedily wrung the title of dance, of show, of erotic entertainment away from her rhythmic undulations and tossed it aside in favor of brutal, unbridled fucking. Child-making never even factored into the occasion, as her crimson-eyed peer demonstrated so well in a single thrust past her cervix, the gates of her innermost core that so violently slammed into the walls of her uterus and shattered fertile canals and eggs by the sheer force of the blow. It was hard not to hold back, not to instantly writhe in pleasure and orgasm like the bitch-in-heat she was when her on-and-off-again lover speared her with that monstrous shaft of hers, but through some inhuman, divine show of will she held on to her sanity, keeping it in check by measuring the amount of pain that shot up her spine and into her medulla in a sudden lightning-rush of sensation opposed to the pleasure that wracked her limbs with near virtual non-function. If only that form of check could ever last when it came to their love-sessions. Within but a few more fuck-strokes, she felt her spine itself torn out of place, her nervous system ripped to metaphorical and occasionally literal shreds by the mere ploughing. Eyes shot wide open, rolling to the backs of their socket as mouth fell agape and tongue lolled out. For the first time that night, she lost control of her body and merely screamed out, yelled out, shrieked out in abject pleasure and terror that was all caused by her, her rival, her peer, her lover, her dominant. Saliva ran down her chin, dripping onto her well-oiled body and further onto Danalia’s softly sculpted abdomen, her hands attempting to twitch and spasm were it not for the high-elf’s firm grasp upon that body. Toes curled, fingers tightened and her whole body convulsed in a mock epileptic seizure from the mix of both orgasm and total, but momentary, loss of control as her body so desperately attempted to form back together and stitch itself whole again. After all, such was the effect of the only lover she ever chose to stick by her side and the massive equine cock she possessed: what point was there in orgasm, if her whole body didn’t lose its grip upon itself due not only to pleasure, but to physical pain and causality? What a concept! That pleasure meant nothing, that orgasms meant nothing now if her lover wasn’t even powerful enough to literally kill her if she were a mere mortal. That far deep into the pleasure-hole of debauchery and libertine excess, any sex with mortals and divines not as fitted and blessed as her current tryst-companion would be nothing more than political gambits and ploys to gain power. Only here, in the grips of Danalia, could she ever feel like a virgin maid stretched into womanhood and torn into whoredom within a few plough-strokes, with only the slightest aid from her various potions, tinctures and spagyric essences. How ironic it was that she had never felt so alive! But the dusky sybarite was never one to simply accept an idle position, doing virtually nothing and contributing little more than tight, elastic womb and mewls—no, she would have to stay true to the rumors swirling about her name through whatever mud it was dragged through and indulge to the fullest of her hedonistic desires and impulses, and at this moment she was struck with an indelible and unrepentant need for flesh, innards and blood. After all, any silly conceit that what they were engaging in belonged between the pages of a lover’s manual, a guide to courtly love in an exotic, eastern style as her torn ensemble might suggest was quite abruptly tossed away the moment her needy lover gripped at her wrists and forced her down on that thick, equine cunt-pike. No woman in her right mind, mortal or otherwise, would ever subject herself to the whims of an animalistic drive that would literally tear at her organs and threaten her grasp of her current bodily vessel just for another marginal hit of dopamine, such an idea would be utterly and irredeemably irrational. Only this far past the barrier of morality and righteousness and into the deepest pits of libertine excess would it be anyway reasonable, almost natural to toss away an immortal avatar for the sake of etching one last mark on the farthest borders of sensation and going just one extra step past that line. This was far beyond desire or want, this was a need burned into her soul as thick veins lining and snaring that musky honey pot-reaver, that beast of torn hymens and tainted, forever-spoiled wombs forced scars into an endlessly-regenerating cunt, as if just the mere act of blood rushing and tumbling through canals up and down that plough-of-maidens, that Dumuzid shepherd’s crook and hoe was virile enough for the very DNA of an undying Goddess to alter that the wounds inflicted to the walls of her love-tunnel became an inherent part of her being, as if Danalia was not merely marking her cunt and her body, simply claiming flesh and meat, but definitively branding her very soul, the very genetic plans within strands of macromolecular nucleic acids to scream to any scientist observing her under the lens of a microscope: “I am Danalia’s property, her bitch, her owned cunt, womb and body!” For now, Merope had crawled far enough out of the black-hole that was her rambling and swirling mind, trapped in that haze as it was, to reach her hand out from the event-horizon of her fantasy and claw at the pleasure-addled high-elf’s throat. While her own diaphragm was collapsed, as shaft reached so far up her body through stretching womb that it pressed past lungs and hearts and into her vulnerable larynx rendering her incapable of even opening her mouth wide enough without extreme disregard for her body to shriek, be it in pleasure or pain, there was ample room for her to gnash teeth against flesh, to tear into alabaster skin with canines and rip it apart with incisors—not simply to mark, let it be noted, but to consume. A quick and almost thoughtful swipe of sharp tooth left carotid cleanly severed, halving the supply of life-fluid to the azure alchemist and providing the mocha courtesan with oxygen-rich blood cells and plasma, the sharp taste of iron gracing her tongue that could only barely register the sensation of flavor considering how frayed the literal backbone of her nervous system was. Of course, her own body reached for more than simply the need to produce and consume pleasure—there was a practical, more direct reason for her to so suddenly snap at the neck of her mating lover and consume her life as a mantis might suddenly devour the male: she needed the sustenance, were she to regenerate her organs faster than that flesh-pillar within her could crush them into paste, and there was no better way than to imbibe the blood of another immortal. Perhaps it never would quite make sense to the chirurgeons who toiled night and day to comprehend the specimens of such beasts as them or, to be more exact, the shed bodies of their hosts after their spirits had been forcibly driven back into the aether after the trauma of a heart crushed into dust, but the soul-force of a divine was kept partially within the eternally circulating life-blood, and so it would only make sense for her to directly siphon some of her lover’s own strength into her own body. Some may have called it greed, but were her body to fall apart within the measures of a few cock-strokes, then there would be no reason for them to fuck in the first place! This was a necessary evil and Gods help her if it wasn’t also immensely and incomprehensibly arousing, even more so than the serpent thrashing within her loins from gyrating hips going out of control because of a little bit of flesh-rending burning the pattern of their veins, their bumps, their scars against the walls of her honey-pot. Nothing would ever beat the sensation of forcing this haughty high-elf to become so enthralled by the jarring works of teeth, digits, and the drenched cunt of a bitch-in-heat. How invigorating it was to feel Danalia’s own life-force fill her blood-canals with renewed vigor, with replenished vim to drive her further into the cycle of pleasure and suffering that would lead any practitioner of the dharma to abject disgust and appalment, though some might eye but the slightest contradiction in karmic disturbances leading to the simple realization that these were beyond divines, but devas writhing in the fulfillment of their role as a preta tearing into a feast of cadavers. And yet still she needed more, more, more! It was a total imbalance for her to be so thoroughly wracked and ruined without her own fair share of her sweet other’s entrails after all, even if she were brought back to some semblance, some twisted simulacrum of rejuvenation by the blood libation. No, this was in no way enough. Those fingers which somehow had twisted from their lifeless spasms and post-mortem twitches to claw at throat merely dragged down, impossibly sharp nails digging into skin and breast-meat before shredding them to ribbons on their descent towards the arrogant tincture-workers abdomen, digits bathed in flesh, blood, and fat alike.From seemingly random cuts to a single, fine incision down her midriff, like a map of a river delta coursing in reverse upstream to create an open seam. Her knuckles dug in deep and began to pry, to pull, to tear her center like hastily opening a cardboard package before severing the side-line adhesive; after all, there was absolutely no time to waste! Her meal was here, waiting, crying out for her to devour and take and indulge. The stench was intoxicating, that of bile, of half-digested food that she had cooked only but half an hour or so ago rumbling in her stomach that she now had the chance to see in action—it was as if she would know gorge herself on the meal she had just fed her lover, were it not so messy or impractical as tearing at her other guts and allowing the fetid liquid to drain out like rainwater into a gutter-ditch. Now that entry was secured, anyhow, she had no more need for the precise and exact motions to get there. Now she could tear, yank, and tug bits of intestine out in chunks, forcing them down her maws and gullets like a beast possessed by an evil spirit driving it on with whip and carrot—though in this case, the carrot was the inner organs of her dear lover who still so blindly thrust up into her with wild abandon. She knew she could only feast so much before her sweet paramour would bring her fist to her cheek and force herself on the dusky pseudo-bride as if to take back nutrients which were rightly hers, and so her task at hand was to consume as much as she could before she was abruptly torn away from her feast.Down her gullet the bits of flesh and organ went, disappearing behind mildly glossed and rouged lips, a bulge in her throat before slipping past only marginally functioning esophagus; it was almost uncanny, how the bulge of food pressed against the distended, impossibly stretched womb as if even her devouring was meant to be another sensation for the high-elf lover to enjoy as she raped the vapid cock-sleeve. It was just as well how wildly she writhed, like a dragon half-slain and breathing out its last swan song as it indulged in the final sensations it would have before death; in fact, this was not the first nor the last time she would indulge in the sudden tearing of consciousness away from the world of the living and into the burning pits of the inferno where Lucifer awaited her, to snatch her and use her in front of the myriad other lost, damned lovers who had willingly flung themselves into the circle of fire in endless anticipation for their Mistress Danalia—only a debauchee as notorious as Merope, even when she was held in such high regards by the Imperium due to the façade of labor and genius she kept up in public, would be fitting for the cock of the most-damned of all. How ironic, then, that she would still prefer the equine cock-stopper that now bore into her pseudo-tight love-tunnel, that stretched her out to the point that any normal woman would literally burst from the pressure. Even the Prince of Hell himself was no match for the depths of hedonism that Danalia and Merope wrought unto the world, an envious ritual that even Lilith and Samael could never hope to match with all the eternity they had of suffering in this wretched world.While she still had the faculties of life, whether or not she knew that this would be her last love-tryst in this current host who had served her well for at least a few centuries before her heart was pulverized into a paste, devoured, left as nothing more than a few bits on Danalia’s Jormungand and a stain in a forgotten, overgrown hovel on some distant colonial holding that no one will ever stumble upon next to the abandoned remains of a certain kitten slave-whore, she would at least force herself deeper still onto that cock, her singed insides coiling and tightening about that plough as if to milk it of its corrosive, acidic semen which even now still burst from her tip like an overfull fountain, an excess of pleasure that drove her vapid with each thrust. Nothing was ever quite as pleasant as fucking herself stupid with the only lover who could make her feel so diminutive and virginally whorish, and she intended to drive in as much sensation as she could while she had the chance. After all, even now as she lost herself and head thrust backwards, mouth agape, tongue lolling, fingers clutching Danalia’s entrails like a vice as her seemingly endless cunt grinded and coiled on the few weak-spots of her lover’s reproductive anatomy where the heat of blood rushing through canals rendered nerves weak and freshly stitched back together, she held in anticipation. Before long, she would feel the sweet escape of death smash into a skull like a sledgehammer and send her back to where Lucifer awaited her with his infernal host, attempting to make her orgasm in the day-long minutes in which she was dead more than her current azure-locked lover could: a futile, useless endeavor.

Fai - Last Thursday at 2:56 AM

The Azure Alchemist thanked whatever Gods and eldritch horrors of the depths, alongside Satan and every other demonic entity known to man at the grand blessing she has received penetrating the fuck-frame of her lover that was practically put upon this earth with how much it enticed and delighted all of her senses. The warmth and heat of her sweat-soaked frame pressed against her own. The way her immense ass that must have caught the gaze of hundreds, if not thousands of lovers slammed down upon her turgid semen factories. Those massive milkless slut-udders that would one day undoubtedly serve to fill the hungering maws of their young with precious nutrients and fluid alike. That dark skin that so deliciously contrasted with her own every time flesh was brought close that was mesmerizing to look upon. How many could say they filled her so completely? How many could say they knocked the very breathe out of her with a simple hilting of their shaft? How many of her demure examples of coitus and fornication that were little more than whispered fancies on the lips of royal maidens and blushing damsels in the backrooms of lavish palaces, could be said to even equal a fraction of what was inflicted upon her with every second that ticked by? None. Absolutely none, and the Alchemist knew that there was little compare on her side as well. Hundreds of broken in dolls, tens of killed and slaughtered prostitutes. One too many 'lover' who found themselves enamored with her flesh, becoming little more than discarded meat after a half-thrust from the Elf's gargantuan cunt-reaver. All except the one that she was so firmly embedded in now that it was swiftly becoming apparent that the sheer idea of ever wrenching herself from her folds without immediately needing to be slammed back in, was lunacy. Not until her shaft was satiated and every quake and quiver within her sloshing tar-sludge repositories was stilled, would their bodies ever be pulled apart. This simple truth drilling itself into the aphrodisiac afflicted cock-wielder's mind like a iron spike being slammed into her skull again and again. This was hers. This was her property. This was the dame that was birthed and dragged upon this earth from whatever alcove of heaven - or more likely, Hell - she resided within for. A most unholy and lascivious of acts. Everything, everything with the Alchemist's life could have been tossed away at this point with a grin upon her half-agape, saliva soaked lips. The bliss washing over her grey matter with every tightened knot of cunt-muscle clamping down upon her fuck-pillar worth a thousand of the lives and lovers she's discarded. Incomparable, unfathomable, and uncompromising, to say that Danalia's capacity for thought was being washed away in a tsunami of passion would be the closest to the truth either of them could get. The folds that clamped down upon her shaft like a vice, only gripping a magnitude of ten times harder upon her rod as more moments passed between them. Physically staunching the flow of blood as the constriction of muscle and sinew alike came in waves that prevented her monstrosity of a equine cock from having itself pumped full of sanguine fluid with every beat of the Azure Alchemist's heart. Time seemed to stand still now, the noise and chitter of the outside jungle that surrounded them melting away, only the ragged exemplifications of delight the Dark Elven fuckdoll that was now thoroughly ruined by a singular, certain special someone's cock - and the rampant beating of her own blood rushing directly into her skull filling her ears. The dark one's heaved out exhales that were twisted into mangled moans and hot mewls that echoed off the trunks of trees for miles aroundst them, whilst disturbing the flies heartily buzzed and swarmed upon the decaying corpse of some half-melted, braindead and bloodied Cat-cunt left to rot within the main chamber of their colonial home. The pitched screams reverberating in her ear drums with such an obscene loudness that drums burst, inducing deafness for microseconds before they were stitched back together only to be met with the same hedonistic howls of pain and pleasure that caused the elongated alabaster lengths to twitch upon the Elf's skull with every sudden cessation of sensation that passed. The Azure Alchemist barely able to handle it, carmine cores rolling into the back of her skull as vision was dulled into nothing more than a blurry mixture of colors - and soon, blackness. The Alchemist most certainly still lucid and lurid, but by no means could her brain even fathom the intensity of the experience wracking her frame, that by the time lips were pressed against the sweaty nape of her neck little registered until sudden coldness flowed into her jugular, as red life blood meant to supply her brain with it's much required oxygen was sapped from her between two hungering lips. Quaking hands did nothing more than claw upon the splintering chair she sat upon, to consumed and enthralled with the might of their hedonism to even bother with the idea of preventing her love from gulping down gulletfuls of her sanguine tincture, laced with the power of an immortal. The iron-laced liquid filling her maw with the intense taste of metal. The smell of rust filling the duos nostrils as more of her gushing artery created a mess upon her pale flesh and ran over the dark one's supple meat heavily. Danalia's elf thrust backwards into the support of the seat, eyelids finally filtering close as she desperately attempted to keep herself - what little remained of herself, that is - sane within her drifting consciousness. Just the act of attempting to congeal thoughts into coherent strings of logic was an impossibility as the tips of her ears stiffened and went from vibrant red to dull, pasty-white the longer her neck was feasted upon like a crimson buffet for the other's stomach. She truthfully could not blame the woman however, as vertebrae callously forced itself from her skin. Stringy clumps of nerves following with it until half of her spinal column had 'popped' from it's safety of her epidermis and muscle. Sinew rend and torn by the gyrations of that fuck pillar having slammed so deep within her domain of bodily organs that it was a wonder that more of her wasn't tearing at the seams in their orgy of pleasures and pains. Still, the Alchemist trucked through the mind-numbing experience, cock-tar spewing bludgeon of a tip causing her womb to expand and bulge outwards against her distended stomach like a compressed balloon inflating with molten seed. Her ravenous semen stew sinking into her flesh just like her veins branded the very core and being of her soul. Chewing upon the very nuclei of the cells that made up her flesh and stabbing themselves between the nucleotides, destructing the once god-given physicality that was ordained from on high to make up the being 'Merope', and twisting it to something far more lascivious. Would all her bodies be this fucked? Would all their wombs eventually be twisted into amalgamates with troughs and canals for veins that have never actually touched their flesh before, by the sheer existence of her soul sinking into the meat? Only time would tell, and the rampant swimmers that filled her womb were going to try their damnedest to make it an absolute. Thousands of hot knives stabbing into her womb lining, like jagged teeth sinking into flesh and consuming her from the inside out. What little remained of her organs not gushing from the apocalypse that was her spinal column half-thrust from her torso, sloppily smacking against her own skin with every movement that caused it to move nary more than a few inches. The Alchemist was still faded though, neck sewing itself back together with her mind-darkened and lost in a wave of cock-compressing pleasure that was sending her nuts into overdrive with every moment that mounted her closer and closer to that ever looming orgasm - until nails split her breasts ten different ways apart. A howl crossing her lips that was soon stifled by a gurgle radiating from her midriff, and blood welling up her throat like a great flood to drown out all us. Foam Welling up as bile was forced from her maw, the Elf's groping upon her stomach of their previous meal sending chunks of the half-disgested slop splattering to the floor whilst she thrashed about. Organs being pulled, tears welling out of her eyes in a constant stream that was cutting ditches through the layers of blood that had accumulated upon her face and neck with the force that they flowed. It was all too much, the Alchemist herself could not even register the need to inhale as her innards were so callously eviscerated and consumed before her very bloodshot eyes that looked upon the Dark Elf like a rabid dog. This cunt. This wank meat. This fuckdoll. This lover. This dark-elf immortal. Not content with simply draining her of her precious life fluid, was now depriving her of her homecooked meal; and worse yet, sublimating her entrails into little more than the contents of her engorged stomach - whilst she hadn't even been milked of her fucking load yet! Unforgivable. Inexcusable. Reprehensible. The needy bitch-in-heat's status solidified. A greedy sow. A needy whore focused upon only her own pleasures, even as her lover below howled in agony as entrails tore and abdomen was refused it's proper ability to heal shut by fingers and wrists alike wedged into the depths of her stomach. Hands flew upwards to the pleasure-wracked visage of her 'lover', making no attempt to grip or hold anything of note or value. Simply inking digits where they fell - slamming into the depths of eye socket, protruding into nose and mouth alike. Nails clawing upon their landings, draining one golden hue of fluid as it was popped with the simplest of motions by the Elf's flexing forearms, cheek caving inwards as the line of her jaw was snapped with the compression the one below put upon her face. It was not an attempt to subdue or quiet, an attempt to calm - nay. It was an equally as animistic attempt at silence, as crushing, at compacting that tongue so sharply into her lower jaw that was crumbling that it was sliced upon teeth below, to messy fall downwards into the wiry lengths of pubic hair below so thoroughly inundated with blood and gushing cunt-fluids that it was little more than a veritable swamp of their liquids. "Cunt." Did she truthfully need to even say that? It rang upon the air and lingered for long moments after, even as palms continued to attempt to eviscerate her face into nothing more than pulp with marginal success. Cheeks having gave into the cloying digits. An eye torn from it's abode after lengths pulled back to admire their rushed and thoughtless handiwork. Jawline fractured in a multitude of places, left to limply hang as sockets tried their best to hold upon bones that simply no longer existed from the duress applied. The flow of blood and viscera from her face was perhaps one of the most beautiful things the Azure Alchemist had ever even seen, and it didn't even require a single fist to the eye to acquire. The acute pain fracturing her gray matter in twain still lingered however, so her attempts shifted from causing it to far more mundane delights. The sweat-soaked alchemist's cockhead could feel the heart of her 'love' upon it's tip. Could feel how it beat and gushed pints of blood through the fuckswine's entire body that was little more than a shrine to hedonism meant to excite Danalia at this point. Immortals all have one weakness, one claim that could lay them down permanently in graves meant only for those who had to worry about such things as death. Their heart, and every single cell within the Alchemist's body demanded - nay, screamed and commanded - for that vibrant, life-filled organ to be smashed upon cock. To be nothing more than a smear as was the Cat-cunt's barely living fetuses were upon the entirety of the Elf's shaft. Thoughts rushing to the forefront of her fragmenting mind, how Lucifer would take her charge, how her last moments would be filled with pain and anguish and pleasure, how her centuries long existence was going to be ended not in peace and love but with sex and pleasure, how she was going to lose this bodacious form of hers forever.. Or until she forced it back to life again. With a gnaw upon lower lip, her mission and task was sealed - maim, kill, murder. Ruin the only thing on the face of the earth who has ever made her feel such delights and curled her toes so excellent. Hands sunk down to bloodied dark thighs, snaking upwards back to hips to sink fingers back where bone was exposed. Possessively clinging to the meat that was about to be removed of all warmth and heat except for what was going to linger through the friction of their bodies and nut-slop, and hoisted upwards. The ungodly squelching that followed as organs and viscera were torn and shredded upon the cockmeat that had lingered for far-too-long within her in a pseudo-stationary state was horrendous. Tissue that had stitched itself back together around the cock as if it had simply 'always' been within her frame, rudely awakened from their resting place, torn from flesh through the seam of cock and womb that was flooded with so much of her virile tar that it hissed before it splatted upon the floor. Consumed and gnashed upon by trillions of her potential bastards instead of ever being given the light of day, her innards becoming a proverbial - and literal - soup upon the deck of the patio they had found themselves upon. Pooling around them as the Elf did the only thing one would do in such a terrifying situation - allowed her to drain. Allow her, for the first time in what must have been hours, to inhale. Allow her to feel her body lose tens of pounds from the simple act of being excavated by that cock. Allow her to know that nothing remained outside of ribcage and flesh between her leviathan and the prize it sought nary more than feet above. Her heart. Her life. Her very existence. And with a simple slam downwards, not even that remained. Sternum splitting in twain, veins and arteries that kept that heart stable snapping and curling upon themselves as tension was broke. Her chest becoming little more than a wide open cavity, whilst the flat edge of her cockhead that was nearly as thick as the skinny, skin-sheathe of an Elf was currently fractured every rib that was left whole near her heart with a singular thud. Bones splaying apart, epidermis incapable of handling the weight of her monstrous slut-udders and simply succumbed to natural physics into a fiendish display. Cock, protruding into her torn loins from below - her stomach, relatively whole and preserved, even with all the blood that was upon it.. Whilst nary inches above her navel, red and white and thick equine cock would fill the sight of anyone who could possibly glance upon the two. Teats sagging off to the side like she was some gutted beast having it's inner lining cleansed of inedible fluids. Cocksnot and tar spewing from the tip lathering itself upon the organ that was neatly resting upon the spewing length. It burned. It sizzled. Her muscle popping as the heat of seed and cock alike practically melted the poor thing into a mushy paste. Gods, two proper thrusts. Two brutal slams into her body, had contorted her from the beautiful fae that lit the loins of all afire, into this amalgamation of flesh and bone and cock-sludge, and it only pleasured Danalia's sickened, fucked mind.That still beating muscle palpitating hotly even as it simmered and cooked, until bloodied hand brought itself upon it. Compressing the organ against the nut-gushing slit. Flattening it. Crushing it. Grinding it into the tar and hard-as-steel fuckmeat. Lifting it above the fuckpyre that had damned and ruined her existence in so few motions - and crushed it between digits. Red and yellowed viscera spewing from the spaces between fingers like molten wax or play dough, before being shoveled into the bile-soaked lips of the cock wielder's mouth. Chomped upon hotly, eviscerated within her teeth. Swallowed piecemeal by piecemeal into her depths that no longer existed within her frame, simply flowing down her esophagus to pile upon the dark-skinned wankmeat's hands in mangled morsels. The obscene act sending the Alchemist over the edge, her cock-tip spewing it's righteous seed that consumed what it touched like the virulent plague burst from the cocktip like a geyser. Spraying itself upon the limp, and lifeless body of her 'love'. Filling up the open cavity of her chest as it piled and rained down upon the two of them, spraying high into the heavens before splattering down with resounding slaps, drowning out the reds and whites and mocha with nothing more than a deluge of tar that coated everything in an inch thick layer. The Alchemist's quaking hands gripped for her lover's wrists, pulling them from her abdomen. Pushing her from her cock with a dull thunk upon the floor, her flaccid cock easily slithering out of the ruined crevice of a hole that remained. Crimson hues glaring over the riddled, ruined corpse of her love being consumed by cock-snot, eyes lingering upon the dead cat-cunt not even thirty feet away in the main room before the patio, and let out a relieved sigh.

A subtle smile on her lips, thinking back upon how she was worried about not enjoying herself so far from Bordego.