The peasant was marching her down yet another seamless hallway, pathways to either side looming as threateningly as any alleyway assassin. Ellie marched as quickly as she could past each potential avenue for discovery by the House's staff, then slowed as much as she could during the intervening portions, dragging her heels as yet another opportunity to be exposed drew closer. Thus far, perhaps due to the early hour, she had avoided notice, but that would not st. She was being marched toward the tailor, after all.

  Half naked.

  She kept trying to cover her breasts, and every time she failed, another maddening flush of arousal roared through her. It was incessant, now, impossible to ignore, and worst of all, she could no longer convince herself it was not her own. Ever since the peasant had ordered her dress switched without notice, she had kept careful watch on her steps, on her progress through the halls, and had seen no sign of lost time. As best as she could determine, she had received no orders. The aching sense of emptiness between her legs was Ellie's, and Ellie's alone.

  Some time ter, which felt like quite a while, but was likely only a minute or two, the peasant broke from her leering to speak up.

  "Y'know, you haven't really called me anything other than a peasant, Lady Ellie. Don't you remember my name?"

  "I do," she snapped, attemping a succinct response to forestall any further prodding.

  "Then why don't you call me by it?"

  "Because you're a peasant, peasant," Ellie hissed, mindful of raising her voice, no matter how much she wished to. Drawing attention was the least desirable thing she could imagine. "Why address you as anything else than what you are?"

  "Because I want you to, of course. Call me Sara."

  As always, the order smmed into Ellie with inexorable force. The mere thought of referring to Sara as anything else was thrown from her mind, tossed and discarded, and–

  Evie stopped dead, her entire body sckening, preset commands taking effect.

  "Yellow."

  Evie waited.

  "Huh?" Master looked at Hurlish, who seemed just as confused. Master snapped her fingers twice, and Evie wobbled, the commands rolling off her skin. "What's up, Evie?"

  "I don't wish to call you by anything other than Master," she replied, her voice still a tad woozy as she came out of her trance. "Even when I am my younger self, it just feels... wrong. I could not enjoy the memory ter. A title or descriptor are one thing, but a different name? Something in me rebels." She paused. "Also, as an aside, I was giving in too quickly. I thought my younger self had more resolve than that. You might order me to be more resistant than would be truly authentic. But primarily, my concern was for addressing you by another title."

  Master frowned. "That's surprising. I didn't think the colr's compulsion to call me 'Master' were strong enough to override my direct orders."

  "It is not."

  Master looked rather peculiarly at Evie for that revetion. "Really? I mean, no big deal, I'll go with whatever makes you comfortable of course, but it's still surprising to me."

  Evie bit her lower lip, shifting her hips from side to side to find friction, now that she was no longer ashamed by her arousal. After some consideration, she nded upon an expnation of her thoughts.

  "It is what you are to me, Master. It is not just a title, or a name, but a reminder of what you have given me. A new life, filled with love and kindness I had never known, improbably drawn from subservience at the end of leash and colr. To refer to you otherwise would... not sadden me, I suppose. But it would represent the loss of your comforting dominance over me, which saved me from the agonies of my prior burdens."

  Master's eyelids flickered, and through the colr, Evie felt a twinge of guilt, regret, and sadness.

  "But... I don't want you to need me to hide from those burdens, Evie. They were forced on you, and what you did or didn't do with them wasn't your fault."

  Both through the colr and in her own core, Evie felt the arousal of the moment plummeting. This was not a conversation she'd intended to have, but as always, Master's ability to cut to the heart of the issue had her leaping far beyond Evie's expectations. She'd considered such emotions before, and even anticipated Master's arguments, but she hadn't been ready to face it yet.

  Of course, she probably never would have been.

  Evie took a deep, shuddering breath, gathering and organizing the detritus of months of anxious deliberations. She was trained in the art of conversation, of negotiation, and she knew that once a topic was well and truly broached, backing away would never achieve much.

  Of course, with Master, I always could, Evie reflected. Unlike near anyone else, she would gdly retreat from this avenue.

  But Evie would not. She knew that already. She took a deep, long breath, steadier this time.

  "I wrote the letters. I gave the orders. For my House's benefit, I encouraged to battle uncountable minor nobles, who then drew their peasants into the conflict, all to slice off a minor piece of nd for themselves, and ultimately my House. The blood spilled did not coat my hands, but it did my soul, Master. But if I am your sve, then that is all I am. Not the woman who made those decisions."

  "I know you think that. You've told me about it, before. But your actions weren't your own, even back then. If you did something your mother didn't approve of, trying to do what was right, she'd overrule you, then punish you. You were just pying a guessing game of what she wanted you to do. That's not a ruler, that's a puppet. Why do you need me to hide from that? There's nothing to hide from."

  "Whether or not the results would have been the same, Master, the fact remains that it was my hand that penned the edicts. It was I that sent the orders." Evie swallowed thickly. "After the first few weeks, I barely felt anything when I did. You have now ruled for months, and you still agonize over each and every decision you make. When I gave in so easily to cynicism, how could I not wish to be beneath you? That you so despise feudal lords is ironic, because you alone represent the ideal that we failed to achieve. A woman worth following without exception, whose nature is so fwless as to free those beneath her from the pain of deliberation."

  "That's... but..." Master's face twisted up, words failing her. The Champion of Amarat stumbling over her sentence sent another spike of adoration into Evie's overwrought heart, joining thousands of simir shards, because Evie knew Master did not need to stumble. She could speak fwlessly, find exactly the right words without hesitation. Yet, every time such a serious topic came up between her, Hurlish, or Evie, Master made the effort to suppress her abilities. Master did not even realize she did so, her old life before the blessings leaving the stumbling and stuttering unremarkable to her, but not to Evie, who knew Master only as the impeccably composed Champion. Beneath Master's conscious mind, however, she invariably chose to forgo her blessings in times like these, so that her partners were presented her most faithful self.

  "I guess... I guess I'll do whatever you want, Evie, but I don't think it's right. I don't think it's, y'know, healthy, for you, to rely on me like that. It doesn't matter if you have a colr on. I love you for the person you are, and you're a really, really amazing one."

  Evie sighed, running her fingers over the glyphs of her colrs, as had become a comforting habit for her. "I know, Master, and I feel the same for you. But when you and I both know you will never abuse the bond between us, why strive to break it?"

  There was a brief silence, both parties contempting their next words. It was broken by Hurlish, who stepped forward and tossed her Guard helmet and weapon to the side, bouncing them off the carpet. She stood between Evie and Master, hands on her hips, looking... frustrated?

  "A fuckin' Champion of Emotion and a professional wordsmith, and you two can't figure this shit out? How the hell's that work?"

  Hurlish turned to Master, stabbing a finger into her chest. "You don't like the fact that Evie's got a sve colr 'cause you think it makes you a hypocrite, which it kinda does, but it shouldn't matter, because she's the one wearing the damn thing, which means she's the only one who gets a damn say. Stop whining about it. And you also don't like her calling you Master because you think it's her tryna put herself beneath you, wheedling out of being her own person."

  Hurlish turned to Evie, stabbing her in the chest next. "And she thinks that because she's right. You're too scared that everything you got with her, with me, that it's all 'cause of the colr, 'cause a goddamn goddess set it up for you, and you don't think you'd ever deserved feeling like you do now without something that ridiculously absurd being slung your way. Problem is, you're wrong, because you're the only goddamn noble I've ever known that felt bad about being rich, and that means no matter how much your dogshit-ass mom made you do, it wasn't you that was doing it."

  Hurlish took a step back, rapidly snapping the buckles of her guard armor with a thumb, until it was all on the floor. "What's more than that, you're a fucked up little cat, and you love getting off with that colr so much that even thinkin' about going without it sends you into withdrawal. Y'know what's funny about that, though?"

  Evie blinked, bewildered beyond speech while she watched Hurlish disrobe. The longwinded tirade came out of nowhere, preceded by nothing, and was utterly unlike the brusque, conic woman. Hurlish shucked off her shirt, throwing it to the floor angrily, and took a step toward Evie.

  "You think it's the colr that's getting you off. You think you need the colr to be a good kitty. But lemme show you something. Kneel."

  Evie's knees fell out from under her in an instant, smming into the carpet of the Old Tulian keep.

  "Open your mouth."

  Evie's mouth fell open.

  "Stick your tongue out."

  Her tongue lolled out, as far as she could get it, her eyes locked on Hurlish's as the orc's fist ripped her own leather pants to shreds.

  "Lick."

  Hurlish's hips smmed the back of Evie's head into the wall, the boiling heat of her pussy grinding up against Evie's tongue. Her heart soared as she began running her tongue up and down Hurlish's slit, vishing it just as she knew her partner liked it, making sure she covered each and every inch of her lips before delving further within.

  Then, just as abruptly as she had arrived, Hurlish tore away. Evie fell forward, reaching out, trying to grab muscur thighs to bring her back in, but it was no use.

  "You think you need the colr to be a good Kitty? Don't be a dumbass."

  Evie panted in pce, barely able to follow Hurlish's words, much less their meaning.

  "You're a fucking slut, Evie. A whore. The only thing you love more than our bodies is the rest of us, and you'd do anything to get at us, no matter what you got hanging around your neck. Stand up."

  Evie's legs, which a moment ago had been trembling, sent her rocketing to her feet. She was shocked by it.

  "Did... did Master give you control over me?" Evie asked breathlessly. "Instruct me to follow your orders as her own?"

  "Huh? What, 'cause you're doing what I say? Nah, Kitty. You're just too much of a slut to say no. This is all you. Finger yourself."

  So desperate to obey was Evie that her cws sprung from her fingertips, slicing her dress open from navel to mid-thigh, rather than take the time to lift the dress. Cws retracted just in time for her to plunge into her aching, sopping pussy, the relief of something inside her, even if it was her own fingers, causing her to crumple up slightly, trembling.

  "See what I mean? Sara, look at this."

  Master was flung forward by Hurlish's massive arm, nearly colliding with Evie. With how Evie was bent forward, feverishly fingering herself, the gap between their heights was even greater than normal. Evie still made the effort to look her in the eye.

  "See what I mean? I told you, didn't I? No colr, no commands. Hell, I bet until she really started going at it, you were so into the argument you were barely turned on, so you can't bme the bond, either. Look at her. You really arrogant enough to think you're responsible for that? You think you're as horny as she is right now?"

  "But-"

  "Don't give me any of that shit. Yeah, yeah, the colr and consent and all that, it's important, getting rid of svery, too, yadayada. But how about this: right now, in front of you, you got a girl you want to marry, so fucking wet for you she's making a mess on the carpet, and you're tryna say you gotta hold back for her sake. How the fuck's that make sense?"

  Master licked her lips. She slowly reached out a hand to cup Evie's face, caressing her cheek, and Evie nuzzled gently into it, all while rutting into her own hand.

  "And really, Evie?" Hurlish crouched down, seizing Evie around the throat. Not her colr, but the skin, so that she could feel her pulse pounding under Hurlish's fingers. "You really think a colr's the only way you're gonna get to obey us? Look at yourself. Fucking your own hand, just 'cause I told you to. You could stop it, too. You've got that power. Are you gonna?"

  Evie squirmed in Hurlish's grip, trying to find an angle that would get her fingers deeper inside.

  "Yeah. Y'know why? Because you want to do what I say. You want to be my little Kitty." Using her hand around Evie's throat, she dragged Evie in for a kiss, shoving her tongue through Evie's lips without warning. She ran her tongue all throughout Evie's mouth, tasting her cheeks, her tongue, and of course, pressing hard into Evie's sharp canines. Just as Evie gathered enough of her wits to begin suckling obediently on Hurlish, the orc pulled back, spittle bridging the gap between them as her hot breath rolled over Evie's face.

  "You ask me, what's the point of a girl fucking you because you told her to? What's the point of your Master having an obedient little Kitty like you if she needs a colr to get it? You wanna be depraved? You wanna prove how fucked up you are for her?"

  Hurlish hopped to her feet, dragging Evie forward, dropping her on her knees before Sara.

  "Fuck her. Fuck her because it's what she deserves. And more than anything, fuck her because it's what you want."

  Master had been watching the entire exchange in near silence, save for breathy gasps. She stood stock still as Evie stared up at her, almost uncomprehending, and if it had been the two of them, Evie didn't know what would have happened next.

  Hurlish removed the uncertainty.

  And Master's pants. With a snap, Master's belt and pants were torn off her, her undergarments following an instant ter.

  Evie tipped forward like gravity had fallen on its side, the weight of the world dragging her towards Master's cock. She caught herself on Master's thighs, lips paused right before the head of her cock, which jumped to the beat of her pulse. Evie's mouth was watering, the ache between her thighs forgotten.

  Hurlish went to a knee next to Evie, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

  "If you didn't have the colr on right now, would anything change? Would you be doing anything different? Be honest with yourself, Kitty. Do you really need that thing to be hers? What's the point of submission without a choice?"

  Evie's head swam. Her thoughts had been shattered by the roaring rush Hurlish was pouring into her, the st of her willpower dashed against the rising cliff of her arousal. Maybe her partner was right. Maybe Evie didn't need the colr. Some part of her, some distant, shriveled aspect of her mind, seemed convinced that Evie retained some of her old, noble self. She was afraid that vestiges of her haughty reservations were lingering in her mind, and that it was only the colr which could suppress them, only the colr which could allow her to truly luxuriate in the freedom of Master's will. She hadn't even known it was there, until Hurlish brought it to the forefront, but now that she had, she could see it clearly.

  Evie inspected the notion. Turned it around in her mind, toyed at its edges, picked at its fraying threads. The idea that she was not, in some way, her Master's. The terrible fear that without Master's commands, she would fall back to her old self, that capricious, callous, unfeeling thing. It was the notion that compelled her to create situations in which Master would give her orders beyond the bedroom, the part of herself that sought out texts on the bond between familiar and witch, the source of her fear that if Master really did free her of the colr, she would no longer be able to enjoy the final pinnacle of submission.

  She took that notion in both hands, readying herself to confront it once and all, and then...

  It simply disappeared.

  She forgot about it.

  It wasn't important anymore.

  Master's cock, however, was.

  Evie opened her lips and moved forward, her tongue pressed against her lower teeth to guide Master in, her lips curled to keep her mouth as soft as possible. Master hissed above her, and Evie knew why, because she could feel the heat of her own mouth wrapping around a cock she didn't have.

  For weeks, months, Master's cock had grown rger every time Evie had lusted after it, taking her body to its limits in her chase to embrace it, but not this time. Now Master's cock was perhaps seven inches long, curving slightly to the left, thick enough require Evie to stretch her jaw wide, but not painfully so. It was, Evie thought, Master's cock. It was what she would have had, if she had been born with it, and it fit her build more perfectly than any rendition Evie had seen before.

  Evie's tongue swirled around the head as she pushed it into her mouth, her own hips bucking in sympathy as the pleasure was mirrored to her. Master groaned above her, a low, throaty noise, and Evie was dimly aware of Hurlish appearing behind the woman, holding her up so she didn't fall, pcing Master's head between her breasts and her lower back against her baby bump.

  Evie pressed onward, sucking harder, fttening her tongue to explore the ridge running along the underside of Master's cock, which was already tightening in wondrous anticipation. Evie felt the head of her cock press against the back of her throat, and she adjusted herself appropriately, bobbing for only a second to gain her breath and reposition herself, then took Master even farther.

  It was wonderful. Evie could always feel Master's approval through the colr, but for once, she focused on the other signs of it. Of Master's fingers tightening in her hair, of the moans that swung from high to low pitch, of the way her hips quivered, instinct begging her to buck forward and cim Evie's throat, her own care for Evie just barely restraining them from doing so.

  Evie lost herself. She lost herself like she never had before. She thought she'd known submission, known service, known purpose, but never like this. Not in her most concocted fantasies, not under the most eborate set of pleasure-enhancing commands that had been yered upon her. Buried in Evie's throat, Master was hers, and she was Master's. There was nothing left in all her world save what Evie wanted from Master, what Master wanted from her, and thank the very gods, they were one and the same.

  It happened so quickly. It was barely enough time for her to begin increasing her pace before she felt Master's cock jump in her mouth. She'd been halfway through pulling back, yet recognizing the sign for what it was, she threw herself forward, burying her nose in the neatly trimmed curls above Master's cock.

  Heat washed over them both as Master's cock pulsed, both her and Evie's bodies clenching in a heartwrenching climax. Master didn't have the air to speak or to praise, nor even to gasp, just enough left of her energy to open her mouth and spasm, her entire body shaking. Evie felt her throat begin to tighten as the orgasm took her, too, and that clench and her own moan was sent back to her through the colr, pulling her higher and higher, her eyes open, seeing nothing, her ears ft, hearing nothing, oblivious to all but the white waves of pleasure racing through her.

  She tasted Master's cum jetting down her throat. Her body reacted, swallowing hard, shoving even harder onto that wonderful cock, trying to get it as deep down herself as she possibly could. The head of Master's cock swelled with each pump, the feel of it as great a reward as the delirium brought on by the taste of the cum itself. Evie's moaning turned to mewling, like the good little Kitty she was, and Hurlish rewarded her with a long, slow scratch down the back of her neck that had Evie smiling mindlessly.

  With a sudden pop, Master pulled herself from Evie's mouth. Evie immediately stumbled forward, going to hands and knees as she chased after the cock, unbearable disappointment welling within her.

  "Fuuuuuuck..." Master groaned, trying to fend off Evie's pawing for her cock, falling back on her ass. "H-hold on, h-hold on. We're not done yet. I've just gotta... gotta breathe."

  "You wanna go see Vesta now?" Hurlish asked, sounding as smug as the orc had ever been. "She's got a bed ready in there."

  "Oh. Oh, yeah, let's... fuckin'..." Master wobbled to her feet, barely able to stand. Evie seized the opportunity to get her hands around Master's cock, trying to pump it from the awkward angle.

  Hurlish ughed boisterously. "Alright, you cock-drunk morons, get on up here."

  Evie felt herself being lifted by what remained of her dress and thrown over Hurlish's shoulder, ass facing forward, with Master in a simir position on the other shoulder. Hurlish began taking them somewhere, but she didn't care. She craned her neck towards Master, capturing her lips in a kiss, trying to share the taste of Master's cum with her. It wasn't something that should be Evie's alone to taste. It was too good for that.

  Hurlish made several comments about how their squirming made it difficult to carry them, but Evie didn't care. Master tried to pull away from her several times, but Evie dragged her back, by her hair and skin, loving the feel of the woman against her, and because she could.

  After all, she wanted it. Hurlish was right. Evie did want this. She, her real, deeply personal self, wanted it. Not her overtuned libido, not her colr, not even her desire to please Master, nor the pride she got from seeing the Champion of Amarat writhing under her touch, none of that was the source of her desire. Evie wanted it, and she wanted it because she was aroused beyond belief. Because she wanted to feel good, she was going to get it, because she deserved it. Nothing could take the desire from her, because it was hers. She wanted it, and the woman who would give it to her loved her, and wanted her to feel good, and that was all there was to it.

  In fact, she realized, she could just... ask for it.

  "Hurry up!" Evie hissed, pulling away from Master's lips for just long enough to admonish Hurlish. "I'm long past ready, damn you!"

  "I can feel that," Hurlish said with a chuckle, giving Evie's ass, which was dripping with slick, a sharp sp. "Almost there, Kitty."

  She moaned into Master's mouth, having returned to it the moment her piece was spoken.

  She did not pay much attention to anything else beyond Master's lips as Hurlish carried them. She briefly floated back towards lucidity as Hurlish booted open a door, prompting a startled noise from Vesta and Oddry within.

  "Ah, Lady Ellie, I see you– what in the world?"

  "Yeah, change of pns," Hurlish said, stepping around the desk where Vesta and Oddry had been waiting, posing as tailors. She ripped Evie off Master's mouth like she was a dog with a bone, tossing her roughly onto the folding cot that had been pced in the back corner for their pnned eventualities.

  Her chest heaving, Evie sat up, cws shredding the rest of her dress so that it fell to tatters around her. Unlike her, Hurlish sat Master down on her own two feet, so that she was facing Evie. Vesta and Oddry watched with btant interest and a healthy dose of confusion; they'd never seen Evie deviate from a script.

  Like Evie gave a fuck.

  "Now," she breathed heavily, spreading her legs like a whore. One hand flew down to her clit, rubbing tight circles. "Get in me, Master. Hurlish, my mouth. Vesta, Oddry you... You two, ah, you two entertain yourself for now, I'll see to you in a bit."

  A prim titter of ughter came from Vesta, but not from Master, who obediently moved forward, throwing her simple peasant's shirt over her head. Evie groaned at the sight of Master's breasts, decidedly more than a handful, yet still beautifully matched to her curving hips and toned body. Everything about Master's body was beautiful, Evie knew, that much was obvious to anyone who saw her at a hundred paces, but Evie was one of the select few who knew how beautiful she felt.

  Evie fell onto her back as Master crawled onto the cot, her cock still glistening from Evie's saliva, hard and throbbing. Evie thought it had never looked more lovely, as if Master had hired a master sculptor to render the ideal subject for her satisfaction. Yet wonderful as it may have been on its own, when it was framed by master's thighs, hanging over Evie's stomach, it became a work of art without compare.

  Evie looked Master in the eyes, and found there something she knew well, but so rarely saw.

  Desire.

  Lust.

  Hunger.

  A roaring, furious arousal, burning her up from the inside out, a tidal wave pounding against a flimsy wooden door. The same emotion Evie had seen when Master had been burying seed into Hurlish's womb in search of a child, the same that Evie had seen after their very first duel had broken down Master's reservations, when she had no recourse but to cim Evie's throat then and there. Evie knew it was so, so close to being let free, that full force of Master's desire, and she searched for the final push that would fracture her restraint.

  Evie reached up and wrapped her forearms loosely about Master's neck, drawing her in until her lips were against the woman's ear, and whispered.

  "I love you, Sara."

  Evie did not know if it was truth or her imagination, but it seemed to her that the growl that fell out of Master's lips sent the entire room rattling. Without warning, Master's hips bucked forward, buried to the hilt in a the span of a breath, and Evie exulted.

  Her back arched as a scratchy half-scream tore a ragged path through her throat, her body twisting in meaningless directions as her limbs tried to find any possible way to express what she felt. Her innermost walls smmed down, hard, on Master's cock, and though it wasn't half as rge as she'd taken before, she clenched down with such force that she was certain she'd never felt so full.

  Master's rumbling growl fell apart into a high-pitched whine, tipping forward so her pelvis and stomach pressed against Evie's, and for the first time since Evie had id eyes on her, Master's hair seemed well and truly disheveled, tangling as it fell around Evie's face. Master stopped herself from colpsing as her elbows collided with the cot to either side of Evie's head, her breasts dangling over Evie's modest chest, her eyes smmed shut and her mouth falling open in a pant. For once, there was no elegance to the Champion of Amarat. She looked utterly disoriented, lost in sensation, as unprepared and uncoordinated above Evie's body as any blushing maiden.

  Evie had told Hurlish to get on her mouth, but the orc was apparently feeling contrarian today, because instead of settling her hips on Evie's face, she reached down and pushed down between Master's shoulder bdes. Evie whined again as she felt Master's entire body press against hers, burning heat against searing skin, all the way from their breasts, stomach, and hips.

  "Gods," Evie groaned.

  "How– how are you so–" Master's hips twitched, and she gasped, "How are you so– so fucking– oh my god!"

  "Well, they seem rather involved today, don't they?" A distant Vesta noted.

  Evie did not know her quivering body had the strength to do so until it happened, but her legs went up and wrapped around Master's hips, heels pushing her just a little bit farther in.

  "Oh my goooood," Master whined, the huskiness of her voice Evie knew so well entirely abandoned in favor of a girlish, high-pitched whine.

  "Move already," Evie demanded, tightening her legs, "I want it, I want it, I want it–"

  Evie cut herself off by drawing in the arms she had dangling over Master's neck, bringing the woman into a kiss. Master moaned into her mouth, obediently opening her lips to allow Evie entrance, and finally, finally, when every part of their bodies that could intertwine had, she began to move.

  Evie's walls clenched even harder in protest as Master drew her hips back, trying to seal the woman inside her, then spasmed in abject joy as Master drove forward, pressing her cock into Evie's velvet heat. She'd barely retreated a few inches, but she hit Evie's hips with enough force to bounce her forward on the bed, shaking them both so hard their lips briefly lost contact.

  Evie lunged forward with the desperation of a drowning woman to recapture Master's lips, the cherry taste of her tongue too beautiful a thing to lose. Master's cum still coated Evie's tongue, her cheeks, and she felt Master's eyelids flutter as she chased after the taste of herself, all the while sliding her cock forward and back.

  With Evie's legs locking her into pce, she could not pull back far, but neither of them would have wanted it. Every moment spent apart was an agony, every embrace a gift, and the stuttering little thrusts that she could manage were somehow more divine than anything they'd done before.

  Evie began rolling her hips up into Master's cock with each thrust, knowing the rhythm better than she did the beat of her own heart, and let her walls clench freely in tune with the heady delirium that soaked her limbs. Every push of Master's cock sent molten gold through her core, radiating out from her pelvis to her womb, her hips, soaking her stomach to her chest. Her fingers clenched and twitched pointlessly in the air, her toes curling, her chest heaving as stuttering squeaks and yelps were driven from her.

  Evie did not resist the coming wave. There would have been no point, as useless as fighting the rising sun, and she didn't want to, anyway. Her eyes lost their focus as Master suddenly moved from resting her elbows beside Evie's head, reaching underneath her armpits to wrap her fingers up and around Evie's shoulders from behind, affording herself the leverage to physically shove Evie onto her cock with each thrust, her entire weight falling on top of Evie.

  Evie's attempts to kiss Master began to fail, the tide of pleasure robbing her even of the instinct required to taste more of Master's tongue, nothing left of her mind but an awareness of the burning need in her core, fring ever higher. Evie felt herself yelping, a muffled sound that rose in pitch with each thrust, and Master was doing much the same, her cock swelling rger by the second. Physically rger, Evie realized, preparing itself for Evie's climax, knowing what she wanted.

  Suddenly, finally, Master's fingers turned to cws on Evie's shoulders, bruises blossoming as she dragged her onto her cock, holding nothing back, all of her impossible strength brought to bear. Her cock reached deeper than ever before, head swelling, and Evie's eyes fluttered open as they always did when Master came, so she could watch her face rendered in bliss, but this time–

  This time–

  Master was looking back down at her, their eyes meeting, unbearable pleasure bringing tears to the corner of their faces.

  Evie fell apart.

  She tried to scream, but had no breath to do so, all of it driven from her the moment Master buried herself to the hilt. Her walls smmed down while her hips shook, a tremble radiating out to take all her body in ecstatic writhing. Her fingers raked down Master's back, cws emerging against her will to draw bloody lines, heels digging into Master's hips while she mewled. Master's cock jumped in her core, pressing against her twitching walls, and she felt it begin to pump, pump, and then with a final, mindless noise, Master came in her.

  Evie's world shattered to white. The white of Master's cum pouring into her, the white of bliss overtaking her, the white that came when uncertainty was obliterated by singur purpose. She came harder than she ever, ever had before, screaming soundlessly, endlessly, time stretching further and further, as if the gods themselves were suspending her in her peak, tweaking all of reality solely for Evie to exult in one singur moment. She did not know when she began to say it, but in time she felt herself repeating it over and over again, like a mantra.

  "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

  Master said nothing but Evie's name in return, whispering it into her sensitive ears as a prayer, an invocation, as if she had to assure herself that what she was feeling was really possible.

  For once in her life, Evie's orgasm did not end too soon. It washed through her in soaking waves, extended by each jump of Master's cock, her cum pumped into Evie's welcoming embrace. She'd never know how long it sted, because she'd never believe anyone who said it was less than hour or more than a minute, because it was perfect in a way that could not be defined.

  And so it was that she found herself staring sightlessly into Master's face above her some time ter, shivers still wracking her, Master still buried in her pussy. They y against one another, spent, and if the others were saying anything, it was some time before they were aware.

  It was, eventually, Evie that first regained enough of her wits to speak. She twisted her head to the side, which meant Master's face thumped lifelessly into the cot, and blearily searched for Hurlish.

  "You... you didn't get on my face," she admonished in a hoarse whisper.

  "Yeah, sorry about that. Figured I'd rather watch, for once."

  "Then... but... you didn't..." Evie shook her head, which sent it spinning, and tapped Master on the back. "Master. Master, it's Hurlish's turn."

  "Mmhnugh?"

  "Hurlish. You haven't given her your cock yet."

  Master lifted her face from the cot, squinting drunkenly at the rest of the room, as if she couldn't see more than a blur, much like Evie.

  "...can't," she eventually mumbled, her head thumping back down.

  "What?"

  "Can't." Her hips shifted against Evie's, slowly retracting her cock from within Evie. "Can't get it up."

  "Nonsense," Evie breathed, reaching one exhausted hand down to slip between them, searching. "You can just lie on your back, Hurlish always likes to be... on... top?"

  Evie had found Master's cock, but instead of the thick, throbbing mass it always was, it was... soft. She gave it a few experimental pumps, using her own slick as lube, and though Master shuddered, her cock didn't harden.

  "This... but..."

  Evie was at a loss. Across the room, Vesta ughed.

  "Have you finally done it? Have you finally sated Amarat's Champion?"

  "I couldn't have," Evie murmured, tightening her grip a little bit and pumping more firmly. Master groaned, but instead of grinding into her hands, lifted her hips pitifully away.

  "S-sensitive," she hissed.

  "I couldn't have," Evie repeated, though she loosened her grip. "I have never seen Master... well, frankly, I have never seen Master's cock soft. Not ever."

  A sudden weight bent the cot downward, Hurlish's bulk straining the wooden frame.

  "First time for everything, ain't there?"

  Evie's bleary eyes failed to focus on the mass of green sweeping up and around her, but she knew Hurlish's figure by heart, and could feel that she was naked. The seven-foot smith wrapped both women in a hug, pressing Evie's face into her left breast.

  "Just rex, girls. We've got plenty of time."

  "Mmmplease," Master mumbled as Hurlish pushed her into her right breast. "Oh... tittiiiiiesss.... yaaaay..."

  Evie heard Master's breathing abruptly slow, sleep striking her as if Hurlish's breasts were narcotic.

  Actually, Evie realized, her own eyes had closed. When had that happened? She still felt a little bit bad about leaving Hurlish out of the past few minutes, so she opened her mouth, trying to suck at her nipple, but it was no use. Sleep took her with her tongue hanging out, a little rivulet of drool running down Hurlish's chest. The st she heard was Hurlish's rumbling chuckle, a whisper likely meant only for herself.

  "Took you dumbasses long enough."