With great dexterity and agility, Banshee threaded one foot through the rope web and over one of Shamira’s powerful shoulders, then using the metal bar over her captive’s head for balance, threaded the other foot through as well. The result was that she was straddling Shamira’s shoulders, using the metal bar to keep her balance, and offering her sex to her captive’s hungry, willing mouth.
“Oh Clara, I believe you have taught this one some useful skills,” Banshee murmured as Shamira’s tongue parted her captor’s labia and teased its way to the core.
“Birds fly, fish swim, and sluts do oral,” Clara said. “She was a quick study.” She sat on the platform in front of Shamira, getting a world class view of Banshee’s ass as she rode their captive’s face. “You know, you have a really nice butt,” she told Banshee. Meanwhile, her fingers were caressing Shamira’s slot, teasing her to excitement again.
“Thank you,” Banshee said, pushing her mound against Shamira’s face. She was happy that this particular sub would be joining her in Savannah for a time. They had a great deal of pleasure to catch up on, assuming she could pry the woman away from Clara for any amount of time.
Clara grinned as she pushed four fingers up into her girlfriend’s box, making a small twisting motion. “So whore,” she whispered, “if you can hear me when you have Banshee’s thighs acting as earmuffs, then you might want to listen. I’m going to split you in two, the way only I can. Do you understand me?”
Shamira could barely hear anything, but she knew exactly what Clara was planning on doing to her. The idea excited her more than it should, so she intensified her efforts. Banshee’s clit was actually kind of cute, peeking out shyly from its hood whenever her tongue swept over it.
All the while, the pathway to her sex was being penetrated and pushed farther and farther open. The thing about a vampire’s body was that it always returned to the state it was in when he or she died. When Shamira died, she had been in fantastic shape. And she had been very, very tight.
Shamira felt an almost compulsive need to make Banshee climax before Clara accomplished what she had set out to do, mostly because Shamira knew that any basic motor skill would be lost to her. She went after Banshee’s clit relentlessly until —
“Here it comes,” Shane said, putting his fingers in his ears.
“What?” the Alpha asked as he leaned over. He was wondering if Shane might “lend” him Shamira at some point. Just to study her shifting ability of course.
“You ever wonder why I gave the name Banshee to someone who is usually really quiet?”
The Alpha looked confused, then noticed that the Representative had actually covered her ears. The old vampire tended to know what she was doing, so he protected his own eardrums just in time.
There were two things that got Banshee’s blood going . . . the hunt and the climax. The former she did in profound silence, the latter she did with a scream that did her namesake proud. Her wail of release deafened those nearby and filled the hall with its might.
“Good . . . grief!” someone muttered, breaking the stillness that had followed Banshee’s expression of pleasure.
“I always said you were too noisy,” Clara added with a smirk. She had not been able to cover both ears like her compatriots due to one hand mauling Shamira’s sex, but she figured her hearing would recover. She rarely had an opportunity to tease Banshee about anything.
“You . . . uhm . . . you did a good job with her. Did I say that already?” Banshee replied, her voice tinged with the happy glow of satisfaction. She slowly extricated herself from around Shamira’s face.
“I believe you did.” Clara took advantage of the distraction by pushing her hand all the way up into Shamira’s sex. “Good thing too, because she’s going to be pretty useless for the time being.”
Shamira’s brain had fire alarms and bells and whistles and all other manner of noises going off in it. That incredible yet brief pain, followed by a tremendous sense of fulfillment, was something she had only ever experienced once before, and only Clara had done it to her. It was as if the Native American had claimed Shamira that night in a manner that would make all other sensations pale next to it.
And, despite having had sex with a giant metaphysical anime octopus and having been gangbanged by strangers or any number of other things, Clara had done just what she had intended. Shamira’s collar belonged to Shane, her body might be passed around like a cold, but the deepest and most intimate parts of her belonged to Clara.
Clara’s fest began its prodding explorations, touching what it could, caressing all it could come in contact with. Her wrist was trapped by both Shamira’s powerful vaginal muscles as well as the odd angle she was holding it, but she would be able to do just enough.
Shamira’s mouth gaped and her eyes rolled back in her head as the first of many climaxes tore through her body. With the fingers moving inside of her, Clara was going to play Shamira like a piano, creating a symphony of pleasure leading to a crescendo of —
“Oh!” Shamira gulped. “Mistress Clara, permission to –”
“Oh just shut up and cum already,’ Clara growled playfully as Shamira’s body shook like a possessed soul being exorcised. Clara would know too. She had seen it happen.
Shamira had no control over her body for several minutes. Pulse after pulse of erotic bliss raged through her blood and muscles and brain. She heard the metal bar which she was tied to start to creak and bend, and several of the ropes holding her snapped. Later she would find out that several members of the audience had reached new levels of arousal just by watching her muscular body strain against her bindings. It would be a pleasant thought.
Clara was pretty sure that her lover had inadvertently broken Clara’s wrist. At the very least, it hurt like hell. But the look of exquisite joy on her girlfriend’s face made it all worth it. She wanted badly to drop her dominant act and just kiss this girl, but she would play by their rules for now. ‘I’ll get her alone later,’ Clara promised herself as she extricated her hand.
As before, Shamira felt an emptiness that was more than physical after Clara pulled her hand away, but she was content. Her life before all of this had been simple, but it has also been empty. Here, she was the decadent, sexual, uninhibited person she had always wished she could be, surrounded by people who would go to war with her and for her, and loved . . . so genuinely loved in so many ways.
Even as Shane unleashed the other submissives on her, ordered to enjoy her flesh, she saw beyond the “show” and the pageantry of it all. Her eyes met Clara’s as the other woman moved away while still staying close, watching hungrily as more bodies moved in close. She loved the beautiful shaman and felt loved in return. More importantly, she truly believed in that affection, something she had never done before.
The other subs surrounded her like a wave of flesh, poking her and penetrating her in every way. They did not take turns, but rather acted as a single entity. It reminded her somewhat of her encounter with the Conduit in the faerie ritual, being a creature of undulating appendages seemingly designed to pleasure her in every way.
Sexual parts presented themselves to her face while fingers or cocks penetrated her lower openings. Teeth nipped at her abused flesh and fingernails dug into the flesh of her buttocks and breasts. All were careful to avoid damaging her back, knowing she was still sensitive in the area near the base of her spine. Each of them used her in some way until they had achieved release, but did not stop until she had climaxed many more times as well.
“Let this be an example to those who might follow in Shamira’s lead,” Shane said, trying to sound menacing while practically beaming with pride. “Do as she did, and the same treatment will await you,” he added, looking at all the submissives still gathered around Shamira’s mostly-bound and wholly-satisfied form. For them, that was a serious promise that they hoped that they could one day “deserve.” “Clara, please take that creature somewhere and get her cleaned up.”
Clara grinned, then started pushing Shamira’s cart back to the double doors leading to the kitchen. When they were finally alone, Clara looked into her girlfriend’s glazed, happy eyes, and then she finally got the kiss she had been waiting for.
————- ———————
Eight months later . . .
————- ———————
“Aodh, could you please help Kira and Arthur get the kids settled down? Company will be here soon,” Shamira half-shouted, half-sighed. Being a mother to a nest of little dragons was exhausting. Since defeating Jonas, four more eggs had hatched, giving her another Sea Serpent (this one a female), a female Horned Dragon from the Far East, a male Stone Dragon from the Rocky Mountains of the United States, and a male Quetzalcoatl from Central America.
Luckily for Shamira, baby dragons mature quickly given the right guidance. Aodh was already able to understand human language and was the emotional and intellectual equivalent of a teenage human. That was not always a good thing, but most of the time it was a blessing. Aodh, being the “big brother” of the group, helped direct his younger siblings as much as he could. He understood what had happened to his race, but seemed more inclined to be like his adopted mother (who he worshipped) than to start dragging up old feuds.
So he, Kira, Arthur, and Archimedes were wrangling up the youngsters who were rambling all over their large enclosure. Banshee’s new estate on the shore of the Atlantic just north of Savannah had been built for its remoteness, access to the ocean (for the Sea Serpents), and for the security it offered its reptilian inhabitants. They were more worried about detection than any magical threat.