Alluva Lovedrake was naked, glimmering with moisture in candlelight cast by two dozen candles crafted of violet wax. Her raven black hair was matted to her forehead, sticking to her slender, tapered back, but otherwise a mess of rich, hand-tousled hair. Her breathing was slightly elevated from her escapades of the night, which also explained the glisten on her tanned skin. Shapely, with just enough muscle beneath her soft curves, she cut a regal and seductive silhouette.

Something the elven pleasure-lass—called Litissa, professionally—reclining on her sturdy, wide bed couldn't seem to take her eyes from. The woman was facing away from her, and the elf found herself drinking in every curve, every detail from ankles to neck. Few humans could moisten her thighs the way that Alluva Lovedrake did. Fortunately for her, the woman had taken a shine to her many years ago when she had actually been living in Neverwinter. The elf was delighted to find that she remembered her.

"Do you thirst, me sweet?" Alluva asked without looking over her shoulder. She was standing next to an armoire that contained many rare liquors and wines, magically preserved—naturally. Even now, the raven-haired woman was sipping a Cormyrean brandy, making delightfully sexual noises with every sip.

"I thirst," the elf said, "but only for the nectar between your thighs, my lady."

Alluva looked over her shoulder, her black hair covering her eyes in a way that was meant to be coy, but came off only as ravenously sexual. "Wine, then?"

"Please," the elf said, and Alluva smirked. She unsheathed a black bottle with spider webs designed right onto the glass. There was no label, but that was no matter. Alluva knew every beverage she owned by heart. She waved a hand over the stopper and it disappeared. The elf drank in Alluva's form as she came toward the bed. She'd seen the woman naked for the last six hours, but the generous swell of her breasts, capped with deep brown areola and nipples, the tightness of her abdomen—and the amethyst thrust through her navel—and the taper of her hips down into her sex never ceased to incite the lust burning within Litissa's gut.

Alluva mounted the bed with her knees, walking herself over the elf until her neatly shaven labia was right over the pale-skinned elf's mouth. "Drink," she purred, casting a cantrip as she poured the wine in short spurts between her large breasts. The cantrip kept the wine in a fine river that flowed over her pierced navel and right down over her labia, to fall right into the elf's waiting mouth. She drank eagerly, savoring as best as she could before more of the dark, burning liquid tainted her throat.

"What is that?" she asked her lover.

"Drow mushroom wine," Alluva said. "From Ched Nasad, before it fell decades ago."

"It's delicious. Pungent, but burning my throat in a way that makes me hunger for more. It feels like sweet bliss and the darkest corruption."

"Not unlike the drow," Alluva said slyly, taking a drink straight from the bottle before conjuring the stopper back within the bottle. She set it aside and shared the half-mouthful of wine with her elven lover, hardly lamenting the loss as the deep violet liquid stained Litissa's cheeks and her pillow cases.

"Decadent, deviant," Litissa said after the kiss. "Not unlike you."

Alluva grinned, licking wine off the elf's neck, then moving lower, suckling at her petite breasts that were just large enough for her palms. The pale pink nipples had been achingly hard since she'd stripped the slender courtesan of her evening gown; the black silk was crumpled at the foot of the bed, stained from their earlier dalliances.

Litissa moaned hoarsely into the empty, opulent bedroom. Magical starlight filtered in from a ceiling that only appeared to be open. The illusion was part of the charm. Litissa's back arched as Alluva kissed lower, over her slender abdomen, pausing long enough to suckle the dangling chain of rubies hanging from her navel into her mouth and swirl her tongue around them. The sensation of the piercing made her navel tingle and sent little spasms of delight right down her spine and into her swollen, pinkish mound.

Both of the women had been rubbing at each other vigorously all night, and they were both on the edge of being too sensitive for pleasure. But that was no moment to them. They would ride each other until their cunts bled, as long as they were still getting off from it. Alluva was a woman of excess when it came to her pleasures, and Litissa had made a career of excess. It had been a long night, and there was no end in sight.

Before long, Alluva's mouth was clamped over the tight, petite little vulva between Litissa's thighs, licking and suckling at the elf's clitoris, tongue prodding into her canal, which had taken everything from Alluva's vast collection of sex toys, her entire hand, and even a magical attachment that the sorceress had thrust into her cunt to fuck the elf with. This was just a warm up though, she knew. Alluva's hands grasped the elf's thighs just behind the knee and threw them back, doubling the elf over and revealing the pristine, pallid pucker between her cheeks and below her pussy. The sorceress attacked it with lascivious abandon, her tongue swirling around the elf's asshole and thrusting in and out repeatedly.

Alluva tongue-fucked Litissa's asshole with abandon. And once she felt the tight ring of muscle relax and loosen up, she took the bottle of wine she'd set aside, poured it liberally over her hand and the elf's loins, using it as a makeshift lube as she began working her fingers into the elf's anus. Litissa's eyes rolled up into her head and she cried out loudly as her asshole was slowly, gradually stretched by the woman's hand. It was no mean feat, but the elf was able to take three wine-drenched fingers into her asshole.

Moreover, the alcohol was absorbing right through the thin membranes of her rectum, and she felt the effects much more keenly. Her elven constitution had slowly been whittled away by liberal amounts of alcohol all night, and this was the icing on the cake. She finally felt a bit tipsy, her head spinning as her asshole relaxed further.

And then, her first anally-induced orgasm of the night shook her body into convulsions that made her gasp and pant for air like a fish out of water.

Alluva was giggling like a young girl when she pulled her hand out of the elf, licking the wine from her digits as she kissed her way back up the senseless elf's body. They locked lips, their tongues dancing lazily as Alluva slid her more voluptuous body up and down the elf's, her harden nipples scraping against the elf's soft, pale flesh.

Finally, the elf recovered and twisted around, mounting the woman slowly, her hands groping at Alluva's breasts. She pinched the woman's dark nipples between her fingers as she squeezed and kneaded the woman's breasts. With a grin bordering on deviousness, the elf laid atop her lover, hands reaching around the bed sheets as she kissed and bit at Alluva's face and neck until her fingers closed around the thing she'd been hunting for.

Making a show of things, she stood up, standing with legs spread over Alluva's face. She took the dildo that Alluva had conjured and thrust the stubby, thick end into her pink pussy, going slowly so Alluva could watch as her dripping snatch took the prosthesis in. Then she knelt, letting the stiff, almost rubbery object slide over Alluva's face and between her breasts on her way down between the woman's thighs.

"My turn with this thing," she said, grinning. She slid the broad, round head of the smooth object up and down the woman's slit, letting her juices lubricate the shaft, then aligned it with the woman's asshole.

"Oh, bloody hells, yes," Alluva groaned when she realized the elf's intent.

Litissa entered her without subtlety, quickly, with a sharp stab of her hips. Alluva cried out, her back arching, her hands immediately grasping her own breasts. Litissa held the woman's thighs up, hooking her legs over the elf's shoulders, as her hips pumped furiously back and forth, fucking the woman's asshole with every ounce of power she could muster in her slender frame.

Alluva reached down and mauled her cunt with fingers so at home between her thighs that they knew without thought what to do. Tight circles ground her clit into her mound, twisting it around and around while the elf plowed her asshole. Her breasts wobbled merrily back and forth with every furious thrust the elf gave her, and her orgasm shook her into a quivering mass of flesh and wine.

Litissa was laughing throughout the orgasm, delighted at the effect of her ministrations. Alluva joined her as soon as she recovered.

They collapsed against each other, sated for the moment.

But that moment was soon to pass, and there were dozens more toys, many more hours of night, and a great many varieties of liquor for them to get through before their time was to be done.

When the sun began to crest the horizon, heralding morning, Alluva roused her meditating lover from her trance-like sleep state. The elf had fallen asleep with her hand firmly embedded in Alluva's loins, and the woman's nether lips were puffy and swollen, not to mention stretched and sore, from the fisting. She pulled the slender appendage from her pussy with tender care, wincing with every fraction of an inch.

Litissa moaned and purred, coiling herself up against her lover's shapely thigh even as Alluva was trying to leave the bed.

"Time to go home, pet," Alluva purred, stroking the elf's silky hair.

"Can't this be my home?" the elf asked mournfully.

"Well, yes," Alluva said, canting her head to the side. "If you don't mind spending all your days in a micro-pseudoplane. Only to leave when I bring this cottage into the Prime Material Plane, unless you travel with me."

"I could travel with you."

"I'm hunting a dragon," Alluva said flatly.

"I could live in a pseudoplane," the elf corrected without missing a beat.

Alluva smirked. "What of the Moonstone Mask?"

"What need have I of work if I live at your pleasure?"

"A good point," Alluva conceded. She gave the elf a serious stare. "Are you quite certain this is the life you wish?"

"I have centuries to regret my decisions," she said. "Right now, I live for pleasure. It's all I care about. Experiencing it in all its wonder."

"A temporary arrangement, then?" Alluva asked.

"You cannot live more than another dozen years," the elf said with a smirk.

"Oh, little one," Alluva said. "You know so little about me. When last we met, did I not look exactly the same as I do today?"

"Well, yes," the elf said, "but magic can aid in hiding the appearance of aging."

"As can draconic heritage," Alluva said with a grin that was suddenly more menacing, with teeth that seemed sharper, a head that seemed to grow a crown of horns, and skin that seemed to shimmer with a reflection of violet scales.

The elf's eyes went wide, then her grin followed suit, growing broad across her face. "All the better, then," she purred.

Alluva smirked, her draconic visage melting away. She rummaged through a few drawers before snatching up a shard of amethyst that flickered from the inside.

"Here," she said, handing it over to the elf. "Dress yourself and return to the Mask. Gather your things around you and speak my name into this stone. It will teleport you and your closest belongings right here to my bedroom."

The elf snatched up the stone with glee. "I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Lovedrake."

"Likewise, pet," the woman said. Once dressed, she sent the lovely elf out the front door of her cottage with a sharp swat on the ass, smiling with pleasure at the firmness she felt. "Until next time," she said to herself once the door shut. She closed her eyes and willed her violet robe onto her body, her staff into her hands, and her travelling gear into a pack tucked into a large extradimensional pocket sewn into her gown.

She uttered a word of power and suddenly she was standing in Neverwinter Wood, her cottage miniaturized to a small statue in her palm.

*****

Vath whimpered out a curious noise as she rested her head against a lump of bundled blanket, then lifted it again to look down between her thighs. The sensation was absolutely foreign to her, but it was undeniably pleasing in a way she'd never fathomed before.

Kneeling between her gray-green thighs, Lidia's sleek, pale legs were spread wide enough that Vath had to hold her legs apart. The half-dragon's pallid cunt was puffy and pink, having been ravaged by finger, hand, and mouth for hours. Her own sex was puffy and very nearly raw from the same treatment. The two had been at it for most of the evening now, out in the wilds of Neverwinter Wood.

Except now Vath was getting to experience something new for the first time in years. The dragon's tail was curled between her own thighs, sliding against her own puffy sex, while the tip was curling up and down Vath's slit. The tip was firm, with a distinctly tapered tip, but was fleshy and somewhat pliable as it pressed against all her sensitive bits. As the appendage began to slide into her sodden sex, though, was when Vath couldn't help but crane her neck to watch.

The muscles in her jaw and neck were starting to burn from the effort, but she watched, regardless, as inch after inch of that tapered appendage slid into her womb. She could feel it coaxing its way against her cervix and felt her canal stretching to accommodate the surprising thick tail. Moreover, it was starting to undulate and wiggle inside her, providing her with stimulation she'd not ever felt before.

"This is amazing," she breathed, resting her short-haired head against her blanket-pillow. Lidia grinned, her hands sliding up and down her body, sharp nails scratching the flesh just enough to torment the half-orc, but not quite enough to break the skin. Raking over her large breasts, scraping over the sensitive areolae, Vath let out another whimper, arching her back as Lidia slid her hands down to the half-orc's hips.

Lidia grasped Vath's thighs and lifted them up and back, leaning over the ranger. Her own sex pressed against Vath's as she began to thrust forward and back, her tail following suit as she ground their clits together. So overused were they, that every touch was like a spasm of lightning throughout their worn bodies.

Vath came in a handful of heartbeats, squirting her ecstasy all over Lidia's soft, lightly defined abdomen and the V of her hip bones. The half-dragon also came, grinding herself for a few more moments before her leathery black wings fanned out behind her and her head arched backward, her howl of bliss echoing throughout the night's sky.

The half-dragon collapsed against Vath to the music of a red dragon toddler howling in response, and the musical grunting and moaning of Iliara and Cyra not far away.

*****

"I'll never tire of this," Cyra said, looking down at her elven lover. She was reclining on a natural chair formed by a lightning-felled tree. She draped enough of her travelling blanket over the wood to make it reasonably comfortable. The elf looked up at her, her pale skin and golden hair almost glowing in the moonlight. Her forearm was glistening, as was her wrist, for her entire hand was nestled neatly inside Cyra's pussy, the half-dragon's nectar flowing freely from multiple orgasms caused by that dexterous hand. Even now, Iliara was gently twisting and pumping her hand, her fingers pressed in close to form a cone within her lover's cunny.

Iliara breathed deep, licked at her own forearm to taste the cinnamon-esque flavor of Cyra's nectar, and smiled up at the golden-eyed woman. "Nor will I," she purred. "I've never loved another as I love you, my dragon."

Cyra leaned forward, her legs splayed wide. She held the elf by the cheeks with both hands, smiled, then pulled Iliara's face into her swollen cunt. The elf didn't bother resisting, rather, she let her tongue do her talking as it danced over the distended clitoris thrusting from the bright red folds. She moaned in delight at the flavor, and Cyra's hoarse cry was one of utter, overwhelming bliss. She lifted her legs off the ground and threw them wide. Sliding down to lay on her back, she let her legs fall back over her muscular, strong body. Thick thigh muscles framed her breasts and shoulders as she doubled over backward. Iliara knew the drill.

Fingers slickened with her own elven juices, Iliara pressed two digits into Cyra's waiting, slightly gaped anus. She was ass-fucking her with three, then four fingers in short order as Cyra opened herself up entirely for the elf. A combination of elven nectar, saliva, and half-dragon juices slickened her anus enough for Iliara's slender hand to work its way into the muscular woman's anus.

Hands filling both holes, a rare delight for Cyra, she cried out to the night sky, heard Drax bark back at her in his juvenile voice, and cried out all the louder. In the distance, she heard Lidia and Vath moaning loudly, and it only heightened her pleasure.

Finally, a cataclysmic orgasm ruined her. Fuck-drunk, Cyra's eyes rolled into the back of her head as her body convulsed for many moments, then went limp, leaving Iliara to work her hands out of both used holes, leaving them gaping for just an instant before they reverted to their normal state.

"My love," the elf said affectionately. "Thank you for having a tail!"

Cyra could barely muster a smile as her tail went limp along the base of the ruined tree trunk. Iliara sat and splayed her legs over the blanketed bark, revealing her petite, pink and red pussy. She was gleaming all over her inner thighs and vulva. She grasped Cyra's tail and stuffed it into her wet cunt, tugging it until it had no slack to give and began bucking her hips, feeling it undulate within her loins. She rubbed at her clit furiously for a short while before her final orgasm showered the crimson appendage in her elven nectar.

She mustered what little strength remained to crawl onto Cyra's lap and fall asleep curled up in her lap, atop her thick thighs, head nestled against her warm, soft breasts.

*****

The morning after, the four comrades were all beaming, smiling, and nearly falling all over each other as they travelled up the trail that Lidia said would lead them to her mother's cottage.

"The three of us have been hunting these woods for many months," Cyra said. "We've never known a cottage in this area."

"It usually isn't," Lidia said. "Alluva Lovedrake is no middling hedge wizard. She is a sorceress with power that I've never seen a match to. Her cottage doesn't fully exist on this plane of existence and is a treasure trove of pleasure devices."

"Then I suggest we make all haste to her palace of delights," Iliara said with a smirk.

The three other females shared a conspiratorial grin with each other before Drax howled up in the sky and came soaring down between them all. Cyra stroked the beast's maw before looking up at Lidia, who had a brow arched in curiosity.

"Sister, this is Drax. He's taken to me as a mother, but I truly have no idea how to play that role," Cyra said, shrugging. Her heavy breasts shifted as she did so.

"That's because you are not his mother," came a stern, authoritative voice. A woman fluttered down from the sky, violet wings spread out wide, her black hair windblown around her head. Violet scales cradled and covered her breasts and clasped her hips, covering her delicates in a sheath of dragon-scale armor. When she landed, the wings drew back in, and the scales receded to form the iridescent, purple-scale robe unique to Alluva Lovedrake.

"Mother," Lidia said, smiling and embracing her. Cyra held back, not quite willing to surrender her heart to this woman, having just learned of her heritage.
"I am his mother," Alluva said.

"How is that possible?" Cyra asked.

"It is a long story," Alluva replied. "My magic is draconic in origin, because my bloodline contains that of a rare violet dragon, long dead. Thus your heritage. A red dragon named Fierkar seduced me and sired two eggs: you and your sister, Lidia. He left me before I birthed you two, but when he learned of you, he returned with a flock of Dragonlairds—servants of Tiamat. I was taken to his lair and forced to breed with the dragon. I laid a clutch of six eggs, each of them stunted and puny. Magic kept them from hatching for a long time, and somehow you found this one's egg."

"It was in the basement of a former lover's manor," Cyra said. "They were using him to make vile alchemical creations that were wreaking havoc on the lower class of Everlund. I liberated him and he clung to me."

"I'm not surprised," Alluva said, smiling as Drax nuzzled her. "But he is my child. I will take him."

Cyra nodded. "I understand," she said, a bit sadly.

"He is your brother, though," Alluva said with a warm smile. Cyra smiled at that, looking upon Drax with a new perspective.

"So he is."

"Come, let us retire to my manor. We have much to discuss concerning the red dragon Fierkar."

Iliara put a hand on Cyra's hip from behind, said, "Lead the way."

"Oh," Alluva said, "we are already here." The sorceress placed a small metallic statue on the ground, tapped the top of it and spoke a command word. Before them, the small statue grew into a humble little cottage, big enough for them all to sit in and rest comfortably, but just barely.

"Enter," the woman said with a charming smile. The four entered the two room cottage by way of the main room, which had a kitchen, a common room with thickly cushioned furniture, and a wall decorated with ancient paintings separating it from the bedroom, which they could see through a door slightly ajar in the middle of the wall.

"Lovely," Iliara said, smiling. "Quaint and lovely."

"It serves," Alluva said. She folded her arms under her chest, smiling as the four entered. "Make yourselves at home. There are refreshments over by the hearth," she said, pointing to the sitting area which framed a small hearth. A small table held biscuits, salted pork, and jams. They filed over and sat as Alluva joined them.

There was a sound like tinkling bells and a rumble of falling objects, attracting all of their attention.

Alluva smirked a little. "Pay no heed. That is my lover, Litissa."

"Mother?" Lidia asked when the dark-haired, pale-skinned elf walked into the common room, an eager smile on her face, a low-buttoned silk blouse on her chest, and a high-slitted skirt baring hanging onto her hips. Her eyes and face went wide with surprise when she saw the guests.

"Oh my, I didn't realize you were having guests!" the elf said with shock, putting a hand over her mouth.

"It's quite alright, my dear," Alluva said. "Make yourself comfortable. We are just going to discuss business. But first, meet my daughters: Cyra," she pointed to the red-skinned, horned woman who looked very much like a tiefling, "and Lidia," she put a hand on the white-skinned, black winged woman next to her. Both smiled at the elf.

"Well met," she said meekly. "I'll set my things up in the bedroom while you all talk."

"Of course," Alluva said.

The five of them went about their work, Alluva illuminating them on her plan to confront the red dragon who had sired her runt dragons and two daughters. The lair was in the Spine of the World mountains, one strong flight away, she explained. They'd enter through a cavern complex and sneak into his lair. Between their individual skills, she didn't expect it to be so challenging, as she would keep his attention focused on her with her powerful magic.

They were just finishing their conversation when a high-pitched squeal came from Alluva's bedroom.

"Was that..." Cyra asked, and Alluva held up her hand. There was another sound, this one more of a moan, and they all let conspiratorial grins crawl across their faces.

More moaning came through the closed door, and the five women all stood slowly and crept toward the door, which Alluva opened silently.

Litissa was facing away from them, her slender hips rocking back and forth on a long, broad shaft that had more than a foot of length sticking out of her leaking pussy. It was black and veined, and when she slipped it out of her pussy, they saw that the bulbous head was leaking pearly cream all over the shaft, the same substance running out of her gaping cunny in rivulets.

"Little size queen," Iliara said about the same time that Vath started growling in her throat. She grabbed the orc's hand and put it against her bottom, delighting in the feeling of the woman's strong hand gripping her pert, athletic bottom, which was just a shade bigger than the other elf's. The half-orc's fingers sought the cleft of her ass through her leggings, then reached lower, gripping at her pubic mound through the fabric, causing Iliara to gasp silently.

Cyra looked over her shoulder at the two of them, took in the scene, and grinned deviously.

"Mother," she said in a velvety voice. "There are three Lovedrakes in this home, two elves, and a half-orc, all three of which seem to adore fucking us."

"I see," Alluva purred after a moment's thought. "Vath, Iliara, please join my lover Litissa on the bed. Litissa!"

The elf mounting the gigantic cock turned her head sharply, eyes wide as she slipped and impaled her ass on the cock, falling nearly down the entire length. She howled in pain and delight.

"All fours, right now. Your new friends will join you." Litissa looked over to see the busty, muscular half-orc eyeing her with ravenous hunger and the lithe, athletic elf, built so much stronger than herself, licking her dark pink lips in anticipation, setting them a-glitter in the magical lighting of the bedroom.

"My lady, I didn't know you cared so much about me," the former courtesan purred, rubbing at her bare snatch as her new friends began stripping each other. They three came together in a passionate kiss, alternating between each other while the Lovedrakes stripped down and plundered a chest that Alluva led them to. Bare of clothing, their sexes emanating the scent of arousal, they each strapped on a leather harness with a large dildo attached to it, jutting from their sexes. Alluva tapped each one on the head and spoke a command word.

Cyra's dildo turned the same red hue of her flesh, and grew a long, ribbed attachment that embedded itself into Cyra's smoldering cunt. Lidia's cock turned from clear to black, and a tail-like protrusion coiled up into her sex, spiraling around itself within her loins and setting the winged woman to trembling already. Her essence began flowing down her thighs immediately. Alluva's strap-on turned a bright purple color but no attachment grew into her own orifice. Rather, another cock grew from the base of the dildo, bright purple and curved...the perfect tool for a tight asshole.

"Hands and knees, ladies," Alluva reiterated, stroking her dual cocks as she approached the bed.

Iliara and Litissa knelt facing each other on the bed's flanks, while Vath took the foot of the bed, her round, muscular ass much larger, her sex plumper, and her asshole gaping slightly, while the elves' posteriors were small and petite, with puckered pink rosebuds and snug little vulvas.

The Lovedrakes took their turns with each, eating ass and pussy, plowing their dildos into their lovers, and passing them around back and forth. There were times when Lidia and Cyra took the same lover, filling both her holes with their strapped on dildos. Vath took this like a champion warrior, bucking her hips against both invading cocks, while Iliara was whimpering and panting as if she was bordering on pain and pleasure the entire time she climaxed with those two big fake pricks inside her. Alluva, of course, gave each lover a similar treatment, her dual cocks plowing both holes simultaneously.

The two elves wore themselves out quickly, reaching for each orgasm, even chaining them together, and soon enough were in each other's arms, holding each other and kissing hungrily while one Lovedrake or another fucked them, ravaging either of their holes.

It was Vath, though, that seemed to thrive in this environment. She lost herself to a sort of berserker lust. Pain, pleasure, it mattered not, for they were one and the same to the half-orc. If her asshole was stuffed with cock, she was furiously smacking her cunt and trying desperately to fist herself. Vice versa, when Alluva shoved both her cocks into Vath's cunt, the half-orc howled with lust-fueled fury and fucked her own asshole or mauled at her breasts, twisting her nipples in painful jerks.

"This one fucks like a rabid beast," Alluva said, double-stuffing the half-orcs holes alternatingly. "A regular painslut!"

"I've got what she needs," Cyra said. "Iliara, with me!"

She took the half-orc away from Alluva, who's dual cocks were dripping with orcish musk. She pulled Vath atop her, letting the barbarian ride her thick red dildo. The half-orc did so with abandon until she felt the elf behind her, hips pressing against the half-orc's rounded ass.

"Her asshole is so stretched out," Iliara said to Cyra.

"Do what you must," Cyra said with a grin, and Vath bared her teeth and fangs in a snarl that could only mean "gut-punch my asshole."

And Iliara did so. She slid her whole hand into Vath's dilated ass without issue and pressed in deeply, the half-orc's larger body dwarfing Iliara's forearm.

"More!" Vath snarled.

Iliara grinned. She wrapped her fingers around her embedded forearm and slid them into the well-lubricated anal ring, sliding her hand in alongside her forearm until her asshole stretched against both of the elf's hands and wrists. Vath howled and her body convulsed violently. She lost all control of her body as her orgasm rocked her. Her cunt jettisoned a vast amount of crystal-clear nectar in such amounts that Alluva momentarily wondered if she hadn't simply lost control of her bladder.

Cyra and Iliara grinned at each other, their lover's bond speaking volumes over the half-orc's rounded, muscular shoulders.

And, not to be outdone, Litissa was eagerly mounting Lidia Lovedrake while Alluva aligned herself behind the elf. Alluva had a cock in each of Litissa's holes, while Lidia fucked the elf's cunt. The black haired elf thrust herself against both cocks until her own orgasm had her trembling and quivering with exhaustion.

After the six women recovered from that, the Lovedrake's laid on the bed, leg's splayed apart, hands held with each other, while their respective lover's performed cunnilingus so perfect that Cyra might have called it divinely inspired. Iliara drank deeply from her font of bliss. Cyra's juices stained the elf's cheeks and breasts.

Alluva was panting and gasping at Litissa's expert ministrations, her tongue swirling and suckling and diving deep into Alluva's snatch. The dragon-descendant spewed her orgasm all over the elf's face, matting her black hair down.

Lidia had her tail fucking her cunt while Vath mauled her clitoris with her thick, broad tongue. The winged woman bucked and shook, her orgasm shaking the bed and dousing the half-orc's mouth with her ever-flowing nectar.

The six of them slept like babes until well into the afternoon, but awoke with renewed vigor.

And sore, stretched cunts.

*****

The next day, the women, sans Litissa, who was remaining behind anyway, were standing outside of the entrance to the cavern system that would lead them to Fierkar's lair. They were all feeling very familiar with each other until a wave of decay washed over them from the tunnel's mouth. Suddenly frowning and scowling, the five women entered the system of caverns and wound their way through the network of tunnels to where Alluva claimed the lair of Fierkar was.

What they found, though, was anything but an active dragon's lair.

The massive, scaled head, crowned with horns, dominated by two massive swept horns jutting from its brow, was severed from the rest of the dragon's body. Scales had fallen off after what appeared to be years of decay—or necromantic magic. Alluva's mouth hung open, slack with astonishment and grief that after years of hunting the dragon, she had been robbed of the chance to slay the beast.

"Mother," Lidia whispered, her hand on the woman's shoulder. "Mother..."

But Alluva wasn't listening. She began to wander into the great open-ceilinged cavern, eyes agape as she seemed to stumble mindlessly forward. Lidia made to join her mother, but Cyra's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

The red-skinned woman, also a spawn of the beast dead before them, had her golden eyes trained on the other side of the cavern, where shadowy figures were busy plundering the dragon's hoard.

"Goblins," Lidia said, dismissively.

"No," Cyra whispered. "Slaves. Your mother is walking into a trap, but not one premeditated. Look closer."

Iliara gasped. "Drow!"

Lidia's eyes went wide, and before she could think of any way to warn her mother, a shout among the goblins turned their attention to the purple-robed woman standing before the massive dragon's head.

"Interloper!" cried a tall, muscular woman, her dull black mail decorated with glittering badges of silver and mithril. She unlooped a long black scourge from her belt and pointed with her other hand. "At them, slaves!"

The goblins whooped and jumped about, confused until the drow female snapped her whip at the creatures, slaying one instantly. They all charged at Alluva, brandishing crude clubs and hammers.

But Alluva, the dragon sorceress, was filled with fury at the sight. Her great purple robe fanned out behind her into a set of massive draconic wings, her hands growing talons where fingers should have been, and her naked body sheathed with iridescent purple scales. She roared her fury, sounding very much like the dragon who had sired her bloodline centuries ago, and unleashed a fury of pure arcane power over the wave of goblins. They incinerated, burnt to a fine lavender mist that glowed with burning arcane energy.

Then, the drow came out. There was a priestess and a wizard among the male soldiers, who's fine swords gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the opening above them all. Wards were placed over the warriors, blessing given to them from Lolth to strengthen their bodies and their minds against magic.

But Alluva was no trifling mage. Her wings flapped, lifting her into the air, and she began casting, her talons weaving intricate images in the air that glowed briefly, one after the other, forming spell after spell in rapid succession.

She finished casting. All of a sudden, there was a rain of small meteors, a storm of lightning, and a torrent of whirling, unerring arcane missiles, all of them crashing down on the dozen or so drow meaning to slay Alluva. Her magic rent them asunder, scorching and flaying and disintegrating their bodies, until only the scourge-wielding priestess remained.

"Mother!" Cyra and Lidia shouted in unison. They charged in, Iliara and Vath in tow. The priestess was staring in abject terror, unable to lift her scourge as Lidia tackled the strongly-built drow. Cyra turned to face Alluva, her friends behind her, and the purple-clad woman's fury flew from her in a scream, her face streaked with tears of anger and disappointment.

"He was mine to slay!" she seethed, floating to the ground. Her wings shrunk in, but only to sheath at her back. Her robe didn't return to normal, keeping her body wrapped tightly in those purple scales. "Mine, you drow bitch!"

"Mother," Cyra said, patting her hands to calm the sorceress. "Let us see what the woman knows, aye?"

"Oh, aye!" Alluva said, pushing past Cyra and Vath, shoving Lidia off the drow, and clamping her hands over the muscular drow's skull. Magic glowed from her fingertips, stabbing into the drow's skull. She screamed in utter agony, her mind being reamed by Alluva's magic, leaving her a quivering, drooling mess as the sorceress forcibly took the information she needed.

"A House in Menzoberranzan," Alluva said through gritted teeth. "House Mourlefey."

"St-st-st-stop-p-p-p-p!" the drow shouted through clattered teeth. "I c-c-c-can h-h-h-help-p-p-p!"

Alluva pulled her hands off the woman's head. "Help me how?" Alluva snarled, magic on the tip of her tongue, the breath of an ancient purple wyrm in her throat.

"Like this," the priestess said, grinning. Her mouth fountained blood from a tongue that had been bitten off at the tip. Her hand thrust into Alluva's chest, and the woman gasped, snarled, and breathed a breath of searing force that blew the drow's head clean off her shoulders.

Then she fell back, eyes wide. A stone was glowing inside her chest, having somehow bored its way through her armor of scales.

Alluva screamed, and with her last breath, sent out a wave of force that knocked the other four women away from her.

The stone within her chest exploded, sending scales and flesh in a violet-pink mist all over the cavern.

*****

"Mother!" Lidia keened, screeching at the top of her lungs. "Mother!"

Cyra clung to Iliara, who had landed next to her, and was trying desperately to regain her senses after the blast of force had pushed them outside of the explosive radius. She watched with horror and disbelief as clouds of mist—all that remained of Alluva Lovedrake—fell slowly to the cavern floor. Lidia was beside herself with grief and fury, and more emotions that she couldn't even put a name to. Vath tried to approach to comfort the half-dragon, but the winged woman shoved the half-orc away. She fell to her knees, head on the wet stone floor, tears pooling, mixing with the liquefied remains of her mother.

"By the gods," Iliara said, her voice choked and strained.

Something dropped next to Lidia: the little stone figurine of Alluva's cottage. The half-dragon took it and clutched it so tightly that her palm began to bleed around the metal.

"Mother..." Lidia breathed.

"We have to go to the Underdark," Cyra asked Iliara. "To House Mourlefey."

"I know," Iliara said. "But how?"

"I have no bloody clue," Cyra said, losing herself in her lover's embrace.

"I may be able to assist with that," came a harshly melodious voice. All three looked up in time to see another dozen drow, half of them females with scowling faces, strong builds, and scourges in hand. Globes of darkness fell over them all, blinding them, and the snap and hiss of spells being cast echoed through the cavern.

There was a shriek, the furious sound of an enraged dragon-child.

Drax.

The darkness popped away, revealing Lidia's unconscious body on the ground, mounted by a priestess who was snapping an adamantite collar around her neck. The rest were slowly circling around Cyra and Iliara as Drax swooped down, fire spitting from his maw. He actually managed to burn a few drow before a spell sent him flying away, howling in pain.

"Drax!" Cyra cried out, eyes wide with desperation.

"The red woman fears for her pet," the same drow who had spoken initially said, marching over to Cyra. "Fear not, though. That one is smarter than you give it credit for. It will not return here. And you will not be here if it does."

Cyra shifted her weight so she could spring forward and throttle the priestess, but a sharp crack to her side sent Iliara crumpling forward, unconscious and bleeding from where a dagger's pommel had bludgeoned her. "Iliara!" she shouted, reaching for her lover, when she suffered a similar fate.

*****

Lidia Lovedrake stood in a tall, round chamber with eight pillars, four on each side of the chamber, equidistant from each other. Each pillar was carved in the likeness of one of Lolth's common forms, mirrored by its companion pillar on the opposite side of the room. The closest to the throne was carved into the likeness of a naked drow woman and decorated with gemstones for eyes, nipples, vulva, navel, and the tips of each of her digits. The next pillar was a woman with eight arachnid legs where her arms and legs should have been, two for each limb, extended vertically.
Behind those two pillars was a depiction of Lolth as a half-arachnid, half-drow woman, her hands as talons and her jointed legs as sharp as sabers, all fit into a tall cylinder. The final set of pillars was a bloated black widow with a woman's face, hair flowing all over the bulbous thorax.

The carvings were a transition from grotesque to gorgeous as they grew closer to the throne, whereupon Matron Sabylene Mourlefey, a willowy matron mother young in comparison to her peers, sat with her legs crossed, lips curled into a smile, and hands folded demurely at her lap.

"What is this prize you have brought to me, my daughter?" Sabylene asked, smirking her soft lips at the strong priestess standing next to Lidia and her other sister, the one who had clasped the adamantite collar on the specimen.

"Our force within the dragon's lair was slaughtered by this one's companion. Our sister slew the dragon-woman with her dying breath with the dragonstone you had crafted. Felyn and I collared this one to serve you as a weapon, while the other two are for...whatever you deem worthy," the daughter said with a sly smile.

"It has been a long time since I have tasted elven nectar, Halafae," Matron Mourlefey said. "I am eager to do so again. The red-skinned girl can be given to House Torviir as a gift. It would do us well to curry more favor with Matron Torviir."

"For what purpose?" Felyn asked. Her strong body was glistening slightly; Matron Mourlefey liked to keep her throne room warm and humid to encourage less clothing.

"Matron Torviir means to elevate herself beyond what she deserves," Matron Mourlefey said. "As such, I believe it in our best interest to maintain a close relationship with her House of Harlots so that when her House falls, we may be there to push them along."

Her grin was villainous, and it infected her two daughters. She regarded them in their own measure. Halafae was a beautiful specimen, with large, full breasts for their race, strong hips, a wide abdomen with hard muscle, and a face that made many squirm. Her father had been a warrior, a male that quite possibly had been bred out-of-race to make him more powerful. Either way, she remembered the cock and the way he plowed her like a common street-whore whenever she needed seeding, and smiled.

Felyn was a different matter. Her father had been full drow without question, and her body reflected that. She was lean and sleek, but that belied the curve of her hips and swell of her breasts, cunningly hidden by the way she wore her armor and clothing. She could not match Halafae's proportions, but her charms had wooed many a priestess during her tenure at the academy. Her father was a cunning lover, and while he could not stand against Halafae's father in proportions, the things he could do with his tongue had her quim melting even now.

A shame they had both been sacrificed shortly after seeding her. She would have liked to enjoy them both, together, but the blood had to be given so that their seed could take hold. The ritual had been the height of her arousal, and these two daughters were her pride and joy, filled with ambition, power, and a burning desire to please their mother in any way she asked.

"You have both done well. You may go and take pleasure as you see fit with my full authority. Leave the elf for me and take the half-dragon to the slave-pens. Let her dwell with them until a need for her arises."

Both daughters bowed and said, "Yes, Mother," simultaneously, leaving the elf woman with wide, fearful eyes.

"And find Lirafey. She can take this other woman to Matron Torviir," she added as Cyra locked eyes with her lover, tears rimming her eyes.

*****

Lirafey had laid low since departing Lura and Hammer and losing Myrynda. She and Shandra had been laying up in, of all places, the Spidermask, Shandra's former employer and Lira's former haunt. The proprietor recognized them and smiled, his fat face—so unusual for a drow—dimpling all over as he clapped, grinning.

"My two favorite mistresses!" the drow said quietly, but in exuberant tones. He knew well the value of discretion, and there were always those around who would be willing to sell information on the predilections of a House princess and her consort.

Lirafey kept Shandra behind her, but the voluptuous sorceress had eyes for the entire dancing club. There were scantily clad men and women twirling around onyx poles, performing for the patrons in ways that even she found risqué.

"We need to lay low for a few days," Lirafey said quietly to the man. She jingled a purse of coins at waist level, and he grinned, taking the purse and weighing it.

"Lodging and food for three days and three nights," the man said, satisfied with the heft. "Entertainment will be extra, of course."

"We won't be purchasing entertainment this time," Lirafey said sternly.

"Ah, well, it'd be a boring life if I wasn't surprised once a day at least," the male said, shrugging. He proffered a key. "Room twelve, your usual. It is fully stocked, but if you're not purchasing entertainment, I'll wager I'm not losing much this time around."

Lirafey said nothing, took the key, and led Shandra through the establishment, both of them making an effort to not be recognized.

But Shandra couldn't help watching some of the new acts as they passed the stages. When last she worked the Spidermask, they were limited to strictly solo acts, using their bodies to entice companionship rather than outright displays of skill. Yet here, before her, was a woman masturbating for an audience of males and females, not all of them even drow. Something was plugging her asshole, and her breasts were wobbling as she bounced up and down on her own hand before spraying her audience with what appeared to be her orgasm.

Shandra knew better. She could sense the illusion in this performer's act and knew that the mist was little more than sugar water conjured straight from her cunt. This act was mild compared to some of the other displays. Outright sex shows, one of which was a female having a time with half a dozen male cocks, all taking turns with each of her holes, while patrons threw coins at her sticky flesh. It was, to Shandra, degrading and debasing to the art she used to practice here.

Moreover, it was enticing to Shandra. She respected the art of mask dancing and would love to take up the façade again, but even more than that, she felt a needful desire to sell herself. She had no need for coin—much of that would go to Lirafey—but the true payment would be the arousal she got from being sold in such a way, and having Lirafey holding her leash.

But that was a whim for another day. From what she could tell of the situation, they were in no place to discuss the prospect of whoring, and needed to focus on the matter at hand.

Lirafey led her to their usual room—the one that she had often taken Shandra to after a particularly raunchy show or seductive dance to exorcise her lusts on the agile sorceress. The room smelled of incense, the bed was made in the finest silks, and ornate décor was the norm, though it was scattered strategically throughout the room to give the illusion of high class. There were no true high class establishments in this part of Menzoberranzan, not so close to the Bazaar.

"I don't suppose now is the time for our usual mid-catastrophe tryst," Shandra said flatly. If her read of Lirafey's posture was right, the priestess was in no mood for fucking. And she was right, judging by the leveled glare she received.

"If word gets back to Matron Mother that, not only did we let the Torviir slut escape, but traded her sister in to the Order of Apostates, then we are as good as flayed alive."

"We don't know that the Torviir girl knows what we did with Luriia," Shandra reasoned.

"Is that a risk you're willing to take?" Lirafey asked, her voice gaining volume. "I am not."

"Then what avenue would you take?" Shandra asked. "We can't simply hide from House Mourlefey forever."

"We have to find a way to exonerate ourselves."

"How in the Nine Hells are we to do that?" Shandra asked, folding her arms under her breasts. She glared at Lirafey.

"We aren't," Lirafey said. "I will. I would send you away that you might not share my fate."

Shandra tapped the choker around her neck. "You die, I die. Remember?"

Then the Mourlefey daughter surprised her battle-captive. She marched right up to the sorceress and spoke softly. One hand on the sorceress's cheek, the other on the collar, she disengaged the device and dispelled the battle-captive magic.

"Mistress," Shandra said, but Lirafey silenced her with a kiss.

"You have proven yourself loyal to me, with no measure of deception in your heart. I almost can't believe it; you're drow, after all. But I do. Perhaps we spent too much time amidst Luriia Torviir and her blasphemies have poisoned our hearts, but so be it. You are free, Shandra."

"Free I may be," the sorceress said slowly, but firmly. "But you are my mistress, collar or not. I find pleasure in serving you, and you bring me pleasure and experience I'd find nowhere else. I am with you, Lirafey Mourlefey."

"Even into the World Above?" Lirafey asked hesitantly.

"Even so."

"We have to find Luriia Torviir." The priestess withdrew her holy symbol of Lolth from her cleavage, giving it a wistful, longing look before sighing. She dropped it to the floor. "Damn you, Luriia Torviir.

*****

Iliara stood very still as Matron Mother Mourlefey dismissed her attendants and daughters. She was motionless as the drow woman, slightly shorter than the assassin, started walking very slowly forward.

"My name is Sabylene," the matron mother said. "You surface faeries exchange pleasantries—names and so forth—before mating, correct?"

The elf didn't respond, her voice caught in her throat. The matron mother was speaking Common with a halting, sharp accent. And the drow sighed at Iliara's silence. "Elf, if I wanted to hurt you, I would have by now. I seek only pleasure. One of my...rivals always brags about her exotic lovers. She would burn with envy if she knew I had a pet elf I was able to rut with."

"I am no pet," Iliara said softly. "I am Iliara, and I have come to worse arrangements than that serving Shar."

"Ah, she speaks," the drow said, grinning. She stood before the elf, hands on her shapely hips. "Shar, you say? I've little concern for the Mistress of Night."

"No, only Lolth," Iliara retorted.

"As you say," she said nonchalantly. "Ours is a relationship of convenience, and she has thus far not punished me for my lackadaisical devotion."

Iliara arched a fine, golden brow at the drow.

"Tell me," the drow said. "Do you find drow women beautiful?" She spun around, undulating her body to display her breasts, hips, slender abdomen, shapely thighs, and long, agile fingers, as well as her silky, gold-tinged white hair.

"I have loved a drow woman," Iliara said. "And she was the most beautiful elf I have ever known. Moreso than you."

"And her name?" the matron asked, clearly turning to jealousy at the declaration. "My beauty pales only in comparison to Matron Torviir's decadence, which apparently is a finer wine to her suitors than my beauty."

"Her name was Lura. She was a servant of Sune," she replied hesitantly.

"Ah, I see," the matron mother said. "Well, in any case...do you, an elf of the World Above, find the likes of me beautiful?"

"I will not play into your vanity," Iliara snapped, her muscles tensing.

Sabylene merely laughed. "My dear, my vanity is healthy and needs no stroking from the likes of you. The opinion of a pale-skinned elf is irrelevant to me, save for the purpose of getting you into my bed."

Iliara said nothing.

"You're a fiery one, that's for certain. Lithe, athletic, supple..." she reached out and stroked the elf's arm, the bicep hard beneath flesh, with just the shadow of a vein popping out along its length. "Is this typical of your kind?"

"No," Iliara said. "I am borne of fury, betrayal, and murder. Most of my kin were borne amidst song and sprites, fey creatures and natural beauty."

"Then you are as a drow," Sabylene chided. Iliara did not react. "Tell me now, and tell me honestly," she doffed her thin robe, letting her rounded, perky breasts free, baring her glistening black flesh, "would you fuck me?"

"In a heartbeat," Iliara confessed.

The drow attacked. She wrapped her legs around Iliara, holding her face in her hands as she kissed, biting down hard on the elf's lower lip such that her skin broke slightly. Sabylene tasted blood and it sent her into a frenzy of lust.

*****

Myrynda's lithe body wove through the crowds of the Bazaar until she found the appropriate network of alleys. She made certain she was not seen by anybody of note, nor that she was being followed, and pulled the heavy, plain cowl over her delicate-looking face. It would not do to have her identity discerned before the appropriate time.

The alleys were as filthy as she remembered, and despite her great care, the soft hide boots she wore were stained with offal when finally she arrived at the portal that would take her to the extradimensional realm that she hoped her sister was living in. It had been long tendays since she had first sent her urgent message to her sister, and she had awaited this reunion for even longer than that. Her façade was soon to crumble around her, she believed.

Lolth was on to her.

Myrynda had worshipped Sune for a long time, though not immediately after her sister's departure had she come to realize that. She prayed in secret, offered her love to the goddess in silence, and, when she pleasured herself, she devoted every second of bliss to the goddess.

"Torviir," came a whispered voice. Myrynda stopped dead in her tracks, frozen with fear. Nobody should know her name. Nobody should even know she was here.

But a face she recognized from her matron mother's many revelries came out of the shadows ahead of her, trailed by another drow, this one thick in all the right places, slim elsewhere.

"Mourlefey," she gasped, reaching for a weapon that wasn't on her person. She cursed herself for not getting a weapon before she left, then began preparing a spell.

But the Mourlefey woman was faster. She lunged forward, hand over Myr's mouth to interrupt her spell. "I am friend," she snapped through her teeth. "We are looking for your sister. I am Lirafey. This is my companion, Shandra."

They released her, and she licked her lips as she eyed them suspiciously. "How am I to trust you," she said in a low voice. "You must understand how preposterous this seems to me."

"We know," Lirafey said. "But we travelled with her for many days. She is being hunted, and I intend to see that she returns to the surface safely.