She was so thoroughly distracted that she didn’t notice her hands being eased above her head, not until the cool kiss of metal clasped her wrists. Durash gave a start, only to have her hands come up short as she tried to reach for her wife. “Lagat…”
She could feel Lagat’s smile against her lips and Durash’s heart started to beat like mad. The beautiful orcismer did not reply at first. Lagat was straddling her on the bed and the chief groaned at the heat of her supple body rubbing against her. Her wife was hot, and grinding their lower bodies together until the chief was left weak and breathless beneath her.
When Lagat sat up Durash was just trying to get a hold of the relentless throbbing of her sex between her legs. The Orsimer was like a siren sitting astride her, hair flowing down her shoulders, breastband loose beneath her disheveled tunic. “First wife…” Durash tried again, growing increasingly restless.
“You wanted to know what Kharzu gifted me,” she purred, pale eyes smiling as Durash abruptly realized what she meant. The cuffs. Of course. No normal object of ebony would be so warm or gentle about her wrists. Malacath…that woman. Lagat seemed to sense what she was thinking and a delighted laugh rolled through her chest before she retrieved the dagger that was her other gift. The blade shone brightly as her wife twirled it between her fingers, then brought it down to skim the point over the leather holding together the chief’s armor. The tough hide parted like butter. Her mouth tried to form some sort of protest at the destruction of her best set of armor but found she couldn’t form the words.
Heat was high in her cheeks as she was stripped with a feral grin, her best friend looking exceptionally pleased as she freed the chief’s breasts to the open air. Durash yelped when two hands reached down to cup them, kneading the full flesh and making her whimper. Lagat was savoring the weight, rubbing them in circles before her mouth descended down to kiss their aching tips.
In her wife’s greedy hands her breasts felt sore and sexual like she couldn’t express. That merciless mouth worried at a pebbled nipple, sucking and teasing her teeth over the tender place until the chief could hardly say still through the torment. A high noise of protest only motivated her wife to move to the other peak, leaving Durash slick with sweat and writhing as she tried to either get closer or father from that evil mouth.
It was only then, when Durash was a hot mess that Lagat leaned back, seeming to admire her handiwork in the long pause. The chief knew she made a sight, her breasts heaving, glistening with sweat and saliva their peaks so red and sore by now that just the slightest breeze seemed a torment. “Very nice,” Lagat purred at her, deft hands traveling down Durash’s trembling body to caress her flanks.
The chief could only watch in terrible anticipation as those careful fingers slipped down to play over the waistband of her leathers. Well tended nails scratched just above the level of the hide, teasing the skittish skin below her navel. “We ought to take these off I think… after all I want a good look at my good chief.”
Durash didn’t know what it was about the women in her life that they seemed so keen on tormenting her. But Lagat seemed in no hurry to go about it. She stroked and teased, rubbing her palm against the heat between her legs before going down to work on freeing Durash from her boots. By the time the chief was nude she was terribly excited, tusks biting into her full upper lip as Lagat at last slid down her smalls and tossed them a distance away.
There wasn’t any negotiation as Lagat came back to the bed and wrapped a gentle hand around her ankle, and Durash started when ebony enveloped it as well. She swore, immediately moving to close her legs when a gentle but ruthless magic drew her thighs apart and allowed Lagat to easily bind the other to its corresponding post. Now she was nude, strapped down to the bed with all of her too eager body on display for a wife that seemed to take great pleasure in her humiliation.
“Is this really necessary?” Durash croaked on the second try, her voice having failed her on the first.
“Well, I don’t want you interrupting my little show.”
F!Orc!Chief/F!Orc!Wives “A Stronger Hold” (7b/9a)
She could feel Lagat’s smile against her lips and Durash’s heart started to beat like mad. The beautiful orcismer did not reply at first. Lagat was straddling her on the bed and the chief groaned at the heat of her supple body rubbing against her. Her wife was hot, and grinding their lower bodies together until the chief was left weak and breathless beneath her.
When Lagat sat up Durash was just trying to get a hold of the relentless throbbing of her sex between her legs. The Orsimer was like a siren sitting astride her, hair flowing down her shoulders, breastband loose beneath her disheveled tunic. “First wife…” Durash tried again, growing increasingly restless.
“You wanted to know what Kharzu gifted me,” she purred, pale eyes smiling as Durash abruptly realized what she meant. The cuffs. Of course. No normal object of ebony would be so warm or gentle about her wrists. Malacath…that woman. Lagat seemed to sense what she was thinking and a delighted laugh rolled through her chest before she retrieved the dagger that was her other gift. The blade shone brightly as her wife twirled it between her fingers, then brought it down to skim the point over the leather holding together the chief’s armor. The tough hide parted like butter. Her mouth tried to form some sort of protest at the destruction of her best set of armor but found she couldn’t form the words.
Heat was high in her cheeks as she was stripped with a feral grin, her best friend looking exceptionally pleased as she freed the chief’s breasts to the open air. Durash yelped when two hands reached down to cup them, kneading the full flesh and making her whimper. Lagat was savoring the weight, rubbing them in circles before her mouth descended down to kiss their aching tips.
In her wife’s greedy hands her breasts felt sore and sexual like she couldn’t express. That merciless mouth worried at a pebbled nipple, sucking and teasing her teeth over the tender place until the chief could hardly say still through the torment. A high noise of protest only motivated her wife to move to the other peak, leaving Durash slick with sweat and writhing as she tried to either get closer or father from that evil mouth.
It was only then, when Durash was a hot mess that Lagat leaned back, seeming to admire her handiwork in the long pause. The chief knew she made a sight, her breasts heaving, glistening with sweat and saliva their peaks so red and sore by now that just the slightest breeze seemed a torment. “Very nice,” Lagat purred at her, deft hands traveling down Durash’s trembling body to caress her flanks.
The chief could only watch in terrible anticipation as those careful fingers slipped down to play over the waistband of her leathers. Well tended nails scratched just above the level of the hide, teasing the skittish skin below her navel. “We ought to take these off I think… after all I want a good look at my good chief.”
Durash didn’t know what it was about the women in her life that they seemed so keen on tormenting her. But Lagat seemed in no hurry to go about it. She stroked and teased, rubbing her palm against the heat between her legs before going down to work on freeing Durash from her boots. By the time the chief was nude she was terribly excited, tusks biting into her full upper lip as Lagat at last slid down her smalls and tossed them a distance away.
There wasn’t any negotiation as Lagat came back to the bed and wrapped a gentle hand around her ankle, and Durash started when ebony enveloped it as well. She swore, immediately moving to close her legs when a gentle but ruthless magic drew her thighs apart and allowed Lagat to easily bind the other to its corresponding post. Now she was nude, strapped down to the bed with all of her too eager body on display for a wife that seemed to take great pleasure in her humiliation.
“Is this really necessary?” Durash croaked on the second try, her voice having failed her on the first.
“Well, I don’t want you interrupting my little show.”