Lilly And The Raven - Part 3

Part 3 of part 1, concludes chapter 2! Enough numbers yet? Tomorrow will probably be a new original work.


In this post: Elf, Amazoness, masturbation, futanari, self-cumshot

My eyes opened again to the real world, my dark room, the same one from my most vivid of dreams. I was disoriented, sure that when I looked up I would see the limp body of my lover, naked and covered with a thin film of sweat, the great swaths of spit drying on her beautiful face. But the bed was empty, though my body still glowed with something resembling the passion I had felt in my dream. I felt light headed, my legs could still feel that warm, supple body pinned beneath them, my mouth still felt stretched and exhausted from that eternal kiss. I sighed and rubbed my face. A strange, wonderful dream, to be sure, but nothing more.

I threw aside the covers, finding myself still dressed as I had been when I had gone off to die. Laboriously I pulled myself to my feet, cursing the uncomfortable high heeled shoes for the millionth time. I felt strangely heavy, as if I was carrying buckets on a bar across my shoulder like a peasant woman or a servant. My legs felt strange as they rubbed together with my walk, pinched as they were into the tight pencil skirt. I ran my hands over my dress to smooth it out as I walked for the door, wondering where my husband would be so that I could ask him what happened and beg his forgiveness. But something stopped me, my hands coming to rest on my breasts. Strange...they felt different. I looked down, but I couldn't see much in this dull light, only the elegant curve they formed against the marble floor. I found a candelabra and lit it, taking it with me over to a mirror, where I gasped and nearly dropped it. My breasts had been large before, but now they were positively bulging, pushing against the tight fabric of my tailored dress so hard that the unfettered flesh curled around the top of the fabric in great piles. I turned to see my profile. I had gained five inches to my bust, at least. I was completely dumbfounded. I left before I could think about it any more, rushed through the house to find my husband, pulling on my dress as my bouncing breasts threatened to break free at any moment.

When I found him, he would barely talk to me, and I could scarcely ask any of the questions raging through my mind. What I was able to find out was that I had drank an experimental elixir, one that was supposed to make female soldiers more like men in strength, but it was nowhere near complete. He had given me the antidote, but that too was experimental. I would probably still suffer the side effects, just not as badly as I might have. When I asked what side effects, he only muttered something I couldn't understand, then refused to answer me. I felt my old fury returning, and now fear fed the flames like oil. I raged at him then, like I had been afraid to before. Something gave me strength, something in me gave my blind anger all the justification it needed. I hurled every insult at him I could think of, leveled every accusation I had kept to myself. He was too stunned to come back with words of his own. That a woman would talk to him like this...!

Finally I made my demands. He would confine himself and all his things to the west wing of our vast mansion, and he would give me the east, and neither one of us would cross the dividing line of the kitchen, which was itself neutral ground. He could have all the whores in Al Zitti, and I could be left in blessed peace to never have to look on his face again. I saw his own anger flaring up, the suddenness of my attack losing its edge. I could tell he wanted to threaten me, beat me like the other noblemen did their wives to keep them in line, but as I watched him, waiting for the slap such as I had taken from my father countless times and wondering how I would react I realized something. He was afraid of me! I was taller than him, bigger, very probably stronger. Just as he wounded my dignity with his procession of slutty outfits for me, I wounded his pride with my sheer size. He wouldn't hit me, because he feared that I would hit back! I think I smirked at him when I realized this. I drew myself up, trying to appear taller, bigger. For a long moment I kept him locked in a fearsome gaze, meeting his eyes in anger as a lady was never to do, fighting with all my will to not back down. Finally he turned away, and said that I could have it my way, what did he care if some freakish woman didn't want to be near him.

“I'll just fuck that gorgeous little whore I brought home those weeks ago when I need it. That's all your kind is good for anyway.” He shot me, trying to wound me, and I didn't care. The mere mention of her called up the image of her face quite against my will. I saw her staring at me over her shoulder as I went up the stairs, saw her drawing close to kiss me as I stormed across the house, saw her pinned and writhing beneath me as I slammed the door to my chambers and threw myself upon the bed. I closed my eyes and relived my dream, wishing desperately that I could recreate the powerful pleasure I had felt.

As I thought about kissing her supple lips, hefting her heaving breasts, caressing her smooth thighs, a change came over me. I felt the flush of excitement I always felt in my fantasies, but this time it was different. A tingling sensation came from between my legs, first the feel of skin on skin, and then skin on gentle cloth, tingling and growing more insistent. It was real, tactile sensation, and I was confused. I sat up, lifted my skirt, and stared down at the cock between my legs. I felt the scream well up in my throat. There it was, just as it had been in my dream. Long, solid, powerful, throbbing. The sound froze in my throat, my whole body went tense in alarm and indecision. Well...side effects indeed. Make the women as powerful as men...by making them into men! Had the process been stopped in me? Or had the reversal potion been one to make women more womanly, and accented my feminine features? And so now my breasts finally broke the straps of my dress as my whole body was tensed, spilled free as I looked down at the member staring back up at me. The fatalism that had held me in its grip for so long suppressed the horror I should have felt. Well, who cares if I'm deformed now, anyway, it's not as if my husband will ever see it. Shock was replaced by curiosity. It had felt so good to ravage that tight little throat in my dream, and that was just a dream, my mind's approximation of how it must feel. Good enough to enslave women for its entertainment, to pay them huge sums of gold to give up their bodies to it...

With one trembling hand I gripped the shaft of this strange thing attached to me. The pressure felt good, but not amazing. As I watched, a little dab of clear fluid came out the top and began to slowly work its way down. I lifted my hand and put my finger to the strange liquid, spreading it around experimentally. It was slick as spit. I spread it around more until I ran a slick finger over the skin of the shaft just below the head and nearly cried out as a lightning shock of pleasure shot through me. I ran my finger over it again, back and forth, a sigh escaping me in ragged breaths. It was like nothing I had ever felt in my life, not even in my dream. I squeezed my shaft again, seeing another tab of the mystery fluid come obediently out. I slicked the palm of my hand with it, then gripped the end of my member, stroking it in short movements. I had never believed that any sort of God existed before this moment, but now I was a true believer. My whole body squirmed against my will, my breath came in short gasps followed by sighs and stuttering cries. I laid back on the bed, spreading my legs a little more and stroking faster. The lubricating fluid came out on its own now, just as what was there began to dry up it would be replenished, working into a thick paste that made wet squishing sounds as I worked my hand faster, my strokes getting longer as the whole shaft became slick. On and on I went, my arm cramping until I grabbed the shaft with my other hand, working it rapidly as my dominant hand went back to short strokes along the head and the soft skin underneath. My gasps and moans became louder and more frenzied, their impassioned, abandoned music making me only more turned on. I thought again of the whore, thought of her pinned beneath me, her mouth open, her eyes closed. Thought of her leading me to the bed, her ass swaying, breasts bouncing, heels clacking against the marble floor. All at once I saw her naked on the bed, beckoning me to her, her legs spread and the beautiful pink flesh between them moist and inviting.

Suddenly my head swam, my whole body seemed to clamp down. All my energy rushed to my crotch, concentrated in my member, which grew even more sensitive, until it was a searing beacon of ecstasy, showering me in holy light. I cried out again, feeling muscles I never knew I had contracting violently and with such immense satisfaction that it seemed my whole life had been nothing but a precursor to this moment. I felt the rushing in my member, another powerful contraction that erased all thought and consciousness from my mind. I managed to keep my eyes open, and still stroking madly, greedily demanding more and more of this unbearable release, I saw the first great shot of semen fly at me, splatter on my face, fall neatly across my breasts and stomach. Another contraction, and another great shot of that fiery white liquid falling across my prone body. Again and again, each one better than the last, until finally it only seeped out, and the contractions died away. Rather than despair at the loss of my ecstasy, I felt satisfaction. I had never known true satisfaction, not until this very moment. All things seemed truly all right. All thought was gone, everything was empty, nothing mattered but the glow of my body, the release I had felt, the sticky cum cooling against my skin. Within minutes I was asleep.

I awoke feeling utter contentment, but desire. As my mind came into focus, I immediately thought of the pleasure I had given myself. Images flashed through my mind, my hand stroking, the great shot of cum hitting my face, the naked body of the whore spread out on the bed. My hand went to my member without my thinking about it, and I felt it already hard, demanding attention. But I got out of bed instead. I washed myself in the basin, finding the dried cum crusted onto my skin. In time the erection retreated, and my member became a loose thing hanging between my legs. I gathered it up, tucked it between my legs, and dressed normally, finding a garment that could accommodate my new bust, a white buttoned dress shirt very much in the style of a man that didn't make them seem so large. Still, the top buttons wouldn't hold and I stared at my deep cleavage in the mirror, strangely mesmerized by it, as if I had never seen them before.

It was a new woman who attended her duties that day. I wondered a few times why I even bothered, since my husband no longer cared what I did, but I did it anyway for I had nothing else to do. I was patient and forgiving with the servants, never raising my voice. I did some chores myself and helped a little to prepare meals. In my utter contentment, I found that I had patience enough to do anything in the world. But all day my thoughts turned to the pleasure of the night before, tantalizing images flashing in my mind. In a few moments of panic I found my new organ responding to these thoughts, threatening to grow into a telltale bulge in my tight mini skirt.

As patient and pleasant as I was that day, I was glad to escape to my room that evening. I was drawn to the full-length mirror immediately by some force I couldn't identify. I wanted to see myself. I stared intently at my breasts, followed the sensual curve of my waist down to my hips, where the satin mini skirt clung to me like my own skin half way down my thighs. I felt myself growing breathless and excited at this. Such vanity! But I watched the bulge in my skirt grow until it looked like a cucumber covered with stain cloth. I stripped off my clothes and returned to my bed, losing myself again in the pleasure.

The weeks went on and it became more incessant. I had to escape to my chambers two or three times a day to gain my release, and my thoughts never turned away from that act, or the dream that had foreseen so much of my new life. I added continually to that dream in my fantasies. I would pull my aching member from her throat that cover her face in my sticky seed, or force her to swallow it. I would pull back and put my member between her giant breasts and rub them against it. I would hold her down and penetrate her, her pretty face contorting in pain and passion as I drove into her with maniac abandon. But all I had was my hands, in the end. Even four times a day, I could never be fully satisfied. What must men do when they feel this way, I wonder? I had no wife or slave to spend my passion on.

Of course the answer came to me weeks later. I sat bolt upright in bed as I thought longingly of my dream for that pretty little prostitute. Of course! They buy their release when they had no other choice. Unlike some petty soldier saving his allowances, I was a noblewoman with a nearly limitless fortune to spend on all the carnal delights I could want. If my husband could have his whores, why couldn't I have mine?

Lilly And The Raven - Part 2

Here's part 2 of part 1 of Lilly and the Raven. 


In this post: Elves, amazoness, futanari, futa-on-girl, oral

Chapter 2

The raven-haired one

When I came to I was changed. I was in my bed, and it was night time. I was alone in the room. I closed my eyes again, and I saw the image of the blue eyes of that prostitute staring at me from beneath endless tumbles of fine black hair, her giant breasts swayed as she rocked herself back and forth on my husband's member, and she laughed as I watched in horror. I knew that this was a dream, that I was half asleep and dreaming again, but it seemed so vivid. It was like I was looking through a scryer's crystal to the image of something happening far away. The whore laughed at me, and my husband's face contorted in something like pain, but he let out a long sigh of contentment, then fell backwards on the bed, dead and colorless. The whore only smiled now, her plump lips making that evil smile consume her whole face. She released herself from my husband's corpse, and I saw little droplets of his seed escape her as she shuffled off the bed, her stiletto heels clacking loudly on the marble floor. Again I told myself to open my eyes, dispel this dream and rise from the bed to seek out my husband and find out what happened, but I couldn't do it. Briefly I considered that I might actually be dead, and that this was my punishment, to live out the moment of my greatest humiliation over and over, but the feeling passed as my mind melted again into the dream. I, my dream self, could not move as she turned and came towards me. Now I could see the front of her, the gentle taper of her hip muscles into her crotch, the muscles of her abdomen chiseled, clearly visible under her skin tight dress, though it was crumpled up around her. In this fully frontal view, her breasts were even more enormous, each one larger than my head, they swayed and jiggled as she walked towards me. Her hips swung from side to side as she walked, one foot in front of the other, graceful as a dancer in her impossible shoes. Her eyes were half closed, her mouth seductive, lips sticking out ever so slightly, begging to be touched and kissed. I wanted to move away as she came towards me, but I was rooted in place by the glinting sapphire color of her eyes, the sway of her breasts, the bulging muscles of her thighs. I realized then that I was powerfully attracted to her, that I didn't move because I wanted her to come closer. My mouth watered and I shuddered as I thought of those breasts crushing themselves against me, of bending down to plant my mouth on her lips and feel the play of her tongue against mine...

She came to a stop inches away from me, looking up into my face. Even in her impossibly high heels, she only rose high enough that her forehead met with my chin. She licked her lips as she looked at me, and I found the gesture so alluring that I scarcely knew whether to say something or simply throw her, pin her against the wall and brutally ravage her. She was so close I could feel the heat of her body, when she shifted the tips of her nipples just barely brushed the fabric of my dress. At last she spoke, and her voice was startlingly rich and deep for someone who looked so young.

“Your husband...he was not enough for me. He died as all men who spend their passion in me die.”

Strange words, the words of dreams, but they made perfect sense. I found I could make no answer. I wanted to ask her why she would go to bed with a married man, but I realized that I didn't care, and what I really wanted to know was whether my husband had paid her enough for two.

She seemed to sense my thoughts as any dream could, and smiled slyly at me. Slowly she raised her arms and put her hands on my shoulders. Soft as fur they felt, so warm as to be intoxicating. She pulled me forward, and I watched in mute exhilaration as her face drew ever closer, her eyes closing, her lips puffing out, parting just slightly as her hands slid to the back of my neck and drew me in...an explosion of heat on my face. Her lips burned like the vial I had thought was poison burned, if all the pain of that elixir had turned to pure, earth-rending pleasure. I closed my eyes and the feeling became more intense. I kissed her back, experimenting with the pressure against our lips, opening my mouth a little wider and kissing a little deeper until finally I felt her tongue probing the roof of my mouth tentatively, and the excitement rushed through me again like a drought of strong wine straight to my head. I responded immediately, feeling her tongue with mine, wrapping it around hers, slipping it off again, chasing it into her own mouth where I probed her cheeks and her teeth and the fascinating contours along the roof of her mouth. I heard a sound of pleasure escape me as I held her in the kiss and she yielded me, responding to my sigh with a moan. We gasped air through our noses and held the kiss longer and longer, until our two mouths had nearly become one. Of their own violation, my arms wrapped around her delicate shoulders, my hands stroking the solid contours of her shoulder blades, and I crushed her against me. Her breasts were like two great pillows of heat against me. I pulled her up, until she was nearly off her feet, our breasts pressed together, squirming against each other in the passionate sways of our interminable kiss. It seemed to go on forever, and though I dreaded it ever ending, I found that I was still filled with utter elation when it ended, I basked in an afterglow as luminous as the sun. The raven haired beauty in my arms looked up at me through half closed lids, I could see her swooning as I now swooned, disoriented by passion, her lips twitching, crying out for the ecstasy they had known. She was breathing heavily, and this made me realize that I was as well. I looked down, seeing the deep rapid breaths making her breasts, still pressed hard against me, swell and contract. The movement was hypnotic, the skin looked so supple, it was like nothing I had ever seen. I untangled one hand from her hair, and ran my hand over them gently. They were so smooth, so immaculate and perfect that it was indescribable, they felt even more supple than they looked. I looked at her face again and she was smiling at me, knowingly, cunningly. She pushed herself away from me, and I felt a spasm of terror, wanting to snatch her back and hold her against me again. But she took hold of one of my hands and turned towards the bed, pulling me after her. As we moved across the chamber I became absorbed in the view from behind her, I drank in the feast of carnal delight that was her nubile, immaculate flesh. I lusted so heavily after the taut, high buttocks, the smooth arms, the breasts so large that even turned away from me I could see their profile outlined above her tiny waist.

When we reached the bed I barely noticed that the corpse of my husband had vanished. She turned to me and stopped me a few inches from her. She fluffed her raven hair behind her, wiped a few errant strands from her face, and then lowered her arms to the thin fabric of her dress crumpled around her waist, pulled it down over her hips, then let it fall over her legs onto the floor. She stood before me completely naked, the dim candle light giving her delicate white flesh an unearthly sheen. She slowly lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed, running her hands down my sides as she did so, pulling me a little closer, pulling down the sleeves of my dress so that my breasts nearly spilled out. She released me and scooted back along the covers, her eyes fixed on mine, her face inviting. She licked her lips again as she sat with her legs stretched out in front of her. I looked at her feet, seeing she still wore her impossible shoes, her feet trapped in a tip-toe shape. Without a word she laid back, her breasts growing even wider and fuller as they settled against her, and then she spread her legs as she had undoubtedly done for a thousand men. But had she ever done it for a woman?

“Go on,” she said, her succulent voice broke the utter silence, dripping with lust. “Put it in. I want you inside me.”

What a strange thing to say! But I didn't care. At last everything I had wanted was coming true, everything and more, for this prostitute, this filthy, immoral, downcast, lowly, home wrecking little whore was much more beautiful than any stable boy who ever lived. I pulled off my dress and let it crumple on the ground before hers. I took off my constricting lace bra, loving the freedom and release I felt as my breasts spilled free of their prison like never before. I undid my corset and threw it over my shoulder, feeling the freedom even more strongly. The feel of the cool air on my bare skin, feeling those sapphire eyes drinking in the essence of my body felt almost as good as the kissing. I hurried along, pulling off my garter belt, my shoes stockings, and finally the last of my undergarments. My penis fell out of the panties, throbbing almost painfully, aching for stimulation. I began to move towards the bed when I looked down in horror at the thing between my legs. I was absolutely stunned, but there it was. A penis hung between my legs, stiff as a ramrod, the testicles beneath it hanging free. But it was a dream, after all. My moment of confusion passed. I didn't care. I was so turned on, I didn't care that I had suddenly sprouted one of those ugly little tools of men, the thing I had only seen twice in my life, once to suck on it, and once to look at it buried inside some gorgeous tramp.

I threw aside my thoughts as my quivering lover sat up on her elbows and pleaded with me to come to her, so I did. I crawled onto the bed, immediately feeling the heat radiating from her naked flesh. The sight of the throbbing member between my legs had made me think of the other her, the home wrecker in my home, fucking my husband, mocking me with her ecstasy.

 I suddenly felt a great measure of hostility towards her, even as my lust for her flamed ever higher. But bolstering both of these feelings, deep beneath them, living them up on massive, infinitely powerful arms was an overwhelming feeling of power. Power over this delicate, supple, gorgeous, treacherous thing squirming beneath me as I sucked on her pretty pink nipples. I was the man, now, wasn't I? I had the tool of men, the thing they lord over their women, brandish at them like a club, the one thing that they can never fully possess. This immaculate little whore was all mine, and I could do whatever I wanted to her because I had that power now. It was not simply enough to ravage her and feel the ecstasy I had longed after for so many years. I wanted to punish her now, to expend my rage on her as only a man could.

She was smiling at me, urging me on, telling me how good she felt. She was thrusting her hips at my member as I groped her breasts, trying desperately to get me to give her what she wanted. I stopped rolling those giant pillows around in my hand and grinned at her, a wicked grin. I felt a righteous satisfaction growing in me as I stared at her perfect mouth, her quivering, ample lips. I shifted, I crawled over her. She asked what I was doing, suddenly on guard. But she was a meek little Human, a little girl bred for dainty features and small stature, and I was an Elf, a foot taller than her, almost twice her weight, but possessing her same feminine beauty, excepting just one part of me now. She was powerless to stop me as I pinned her shoulders beneath my legs, felt her breasts give under me like cushions as I sat back.

I let my cock fall across her face, and looked down at her, swaying a bit to feel it rub against her soft skin. It was twice as big as my husband's, I could see it throbbing with desire, veins like ropes coiled around the bulging shaft. The whore opened her mouth and licked it, moving her head only as she could move nothing else with me pinning her down. Moans and low sounds of pleasure emanated from her as she ran her tongue all along the shaft, and up around the head. I was nearly stricken blind by the pleasure of it. I gripped my knees and tried not to cry out. Each stroke of her tongue shot through me like lightning, her hot breath felt like a cloud of satisfaction wrapping itself around my member, her moans sounded like the sweetest music in my ears. At last I could stand it no more, I shifted, drew myself up a bit. She sensed what I meant to do, and I stared down at her for a moment as she closed her eyes and opened her mouth in utter submission. Her glistening tongue waited like a grand carpet to receive me. My mouth watering, heart racing, my whole body feeling the excitement and anticipation, I took hold of my new organ and guided it to her mouth. Immediately her lips, wet and softer than anything I had ever felt in my life, closed tight around the head of my cock, and I nearly cried out again. Without any prompting from me, my hips were pushing forward, sliding it in deeper, the suppleness of her tongue, the tight grip of her lips as they enveloped my head and slipped along the shaft was almost too much. I felt like my member would explode at any moment. She tilted her head, urged me on, and I continued to push forward, my body trembling with pure sublime pleasure, my eyes closing out of sheer necessity. I felt the passage of her mouth narrow, grow tighter as I pushed now into her throat, but she did not gag or cry out. Of course not, why would a whore be revolted by her life's work? I felt my member bend sharply, but the slight pain was even more exhilarating. I opened my eyes and looked down at her, her sapphire jewels staring back at me as she strained to look up at me. Her mouth was as wide as it could be, her cheeks were puckered in as she sucked as had as she could, transforming her face into something long and strange but oddly beautiful. I pushed until her nose rested against my pelvis, my testicles resting on her chin. She looked up at me still for a few moments, then began to squirm just slightly, a small panic entering her gorgeous eyes. I only watched. Her face turned red and she began to struggle uselessly against my superior weight, my strength. I saw her eyes begin to roll up into the back of her head, and I pulled out quickly. A guttural cry came out of her as I pulled free, as if pulled up from deep inside of her by my deep probing. She gasped for air and made another noise. Before she had even fully recovered I shoved my member back into her mouth, looking down at her panicked eyes. This time I held it for only a moment, then began to pump in and out of her throat. Oh, this was pure ecstasy. My mind was utterly blank, only the wet, hot, slippery feeling of ravaging this poor girl beneath me existed. I paid no attention to the squishing noise of my thoroughly slobbered cock ravaging her tiny throat, I just rocked back and forth, feeling the change of pressure, the textures and contours of her mouth trapped helplessly around my member.

Finally, I looked down at her again, pulling my aching cock from her mouth and looking at her face, now covered with her slick saliva thickened into a white, bubbling paste from my thrusting. Her makeup was smeared about her eyes and lips, I watched the paste sliding slowly to her ears as she stared up at me panting heavily, her mouth still open as if frozen. She look at me with submission and naked want, and then the dream ended.