Requested by the same fella’ as An Alliance.

===

Every shift of his body to make himself more comfortable was met with the witch in his lap making an equally calculated shift of her body to negate it, returning the confounding pressure of her ass back onto his cock. Black-haired and full of trouble, Sylvan’s mistress filled her days with resolving the dilemmas that plagued his little village home, tutoring him on the methods of magic, tormenting him in one of a hundred different methods that left him painfully hard, all before retiring back to her home. Torment may be exaggerating it; he could hardly say he hated what Sigrith put him through. Hardly even minded it. More than once he’d managed to annoy her by failing to give the exact kind of reaction she was looking for — usually some kind of pitiful moan or bleat out in public, but between themselves they knew that her ‘dotting’ was something he looked forward to every day.

Few of the men in the village understood their strange relationship, and some of the women seemed annoyed by it, but he could hardly spare the attention necessary to either group when the older woman ground her ass against his lap, swirling and dancing it and dragging the length of his clothed prick through the ridge of her plump ass in a way that made him see stars.

“Problem, Sylvan?” Morton asks, both amused and annoyed by his friend’s distraction. They’d begun a game of cards just after Sylvan’s lessons had ended, only for the abrupt arrival of a raven-haired sorceress and her wide-brimmed hat to interrupt their game by dragging her student’s chair back to make room for herself.

Nobody had invited her because it wasn’t necessary. Her invitation was a given. Especially when it managed to throw Sylvan entirely off the game and kicked him off an early lead and straight into a hole he was having trouble digging out of. Sigrith pretended to be examining something on the table, which couldn’t be anything at all, just to scoot herself over his lap again.

‘Ancestors,’ he thinks, wincing. She felt so good. Softer than any pillow he’d ever been able to afford, which wasn’t much, but…

“None, gentlemen,” he replies with a wink, wrapping an arm around the woman and dragging her back across him, bringing her flush with his body. The move makes his fingers nearly crush his cards and makes her huff as all she’s suddenly lost the ability to move as much as she’d like. “Though I believe I need to call it an early night.”

Jasper, another player at the table and the man who was looking forward to strapping him out of more of his coin, pouted. “We’ve only just started, Sylvan! Certainly some of your elven luck will start picking up.”

It’s true. The mood in the tavern was still high, the last of the laborers wandering in and taking tables for themselves and making cheerful banter with servers and owners alike as the food started arriving at last. He’d even been looking forward to tonight after his lessons had gone as well as they had. Without setting anything on fire he’d been able to spawn a ball of light, delighting both him and his mistress alike. Exceeding his own glee, she’d gone as far as to leave a wet kiss on his cheek, taking his head between her hands and dragging him down low enough to reach her, rewarding him with what he supposed must have been a large, impossible-not-to-notice lipstick stain behind given all the looks he’d had when he walked in.

The wondered of it still being there makes his cock throb and Sigrith giggle mirthfully, the hand on her hip squeezing her as she turns, planting one possessive hand on his chest and casting a challenging look to his friends. Even from beneath the lip of her hat, the green-eyes that catch them manage to make them nervous in their chairs, even if, in her many years in this villa, she hadn’t so much as hurt a fly.

“Oh, boys. You should know by now that fay-luck is just a myth. Fay-fucking on the other hand…”

Her voice leads off, snaking one arm around his neck and pulling him close, pressing another kiss against his yet untouched cheek, squinting his eye as her face draws near, leaving only to listen and feel as her lips press against him. They were the second softest thing about her.

His ‘friends’ erupt into laughter as his caramel-skinned cheeks turn a new, rosy shade of red beneath her gloss, making him scoff and roll his eyes, throwing his useless hand on the table.

“Whatever. Fuck you all. I fold, and I’m going home.”

~-~

Two steps out the door and Sigrith, half-blending into the darkness that surrounds the building, sweeps him up against the wall. It’d taken a godly effort to remove her from his lap, and now she was accosting him just outside as others scooted past them, some raising complaints before spotting her signature hair and robes. None dared to tread on her.

Just an elf and a witch minding their own company.

Sylvan swallowed as her eyes stood starkly against the dark backdrop of the night sky behind her, trees barely moving so as to not detract from the pale, lovely face before him. Her lipstick was smudged, and he fought valiantly against his arousal – despite it being her fault – to imagine it smudged further by his dick.

“You cold?” He asks, voice tilted but still remarkably calm through his efforts.

“Mhm. Very.” She hums, pressing herself up against him. Her body feels nice against his, nearly perfectly sized so he can rest his chin on where her head ought to be, but he forces his hands to remain at his side. This seems to annoy her, and not in the way they’d usually enjoy by exchanging barbs.

“If only I had somebody to keep me warm in my bed at night, eh?” She asks, more forcefully, eyes flat and unimpressed with him. Her thigh presses against his groin, and she doesn’t move to pull it back, but she doesn’t trap him with her arms either, letting him leave if he truly wanted it.

Sylvan swallows. He’s not daft to her advances, but he’s been spurned enough by her whims enough to know better than to entirely trust her; last time she’d left him huffing against a wall, cock suddenly empty without the warmth of her hand to keep it business after stroking him to the edge. As fun as it’d been right up until then…

“Got somebody in mind?” He decides to ask, resting his hands on her hips, letting her set up whatever game she was playing. His fingers dance along the unsubtle rise of the ass that had been planted on him mere moments ago.

Her green eyes danced happily with his choice.

“I’ve got somebody in mind, but he’s been known to be indecisive in the past.”

Sylvan raises a brow. Unbelievable.

“Indecisive? About letting you stay cold? Some man.”

“Some elf,” She agrees, grinning hard.

~-~

She’s kissing him hard before they’re even three steps past the door.

One moment he’s admiring the fine decor of her home, an exhibit of abandoned hobbies over the decades and indescribable instruments for magic and science and baking, the next he hears the door slam shut behind her with such force that it makes him jump and put his head through the ceiling. Another moment after that, a warm vapor that he instantly recognizes as magic grips his entire body before he’s spun about, not a word leaving his lips before she’s up on her toes, lips on his and pushing him against the table. Feeling her mouth on his is nothing like the teasing against his neck or cheeks in the past — the sheer and connection of it send a jolt through his body, making his bones hum and his hair stand on end as their lips press tight together. With her fingers grasping his black locks and dragging him close to her, closer than molecules of wind, it doesn’t leave him much room to manuever, only be temporarily subject to her will as those same fulsome lips danced across his own, showing centuries of experience over him, stopping only to take a gasp of air before pressing those same wet, lipstick-stained lips against him for another attack.

He doesn’t stop her.

Stuck between a table and a rambunctious, evidently aroused sorceress, he leans into her, helping her along by planting his hands on her ass and lifting her off the ground, drawing a happy squeal from her and a smirk before catching a stray line of saliva that connects them with her tongue and swallowing it in and swooping down to kiss him yet again. The sight of it makes his knees go weak and slide further back against the table, not putting up a resistance when her tongue makes contact with his lips and intrusively demanding entrance. Once given, she’s quick to claim his tongue with her own, eagerly playing with her and exchanging mutually happy mewls as they gradually pick up their hips, grinding their groins together. His hard and clothed cock against her already stained crotch, finally providing some of her own medicine back to Sigrith as his fingers dig deep into the pillowy ass of the witch, getting a fine grip on it and dragging her across the length of his cock, making her snap back a moan and then a laugh.

“Gods,” she pants, not stopping her tumultuous grinding down below, making it hard for him to focus on her words. “You have a way of making me feel like I’m twenty again, Sylvan.”

“When was that? A thousand years go? You wear those millennials on you pretty well.”

Sigrith nods proudly, exaggeratedly throwing a lock of black hair behind her shoulder, looking powerful even as she full-heartedly humps his lap.

“I would’ve been twenty during the Auric Empire, I think. The fourth Emperor, maybe.”

The thorough groping of her ass stopped at those words, a flash of lightning cracking through his hormone-driven thoughts.

“That was… what, two thousand years ago?”

She shrugs.

“Who cares? Go back to squeezing my ass, stableboy.”

He does so with gusto. In fact, he’s just about dragged her dress over the back of her knees, exposing a long pair of legs that, in an act of betrayal and with one hand left glued to her rear, he lets one hand take a long swipe of her leg, feeling the way her perfect calf shook beneath his hand, apparently pleasing her enough to not reprimand him when, in a sudden act, he lifts his hand from her ass cheek before delivering a blow that somehow makes him wince more than she does, the air snapping shut on his ear drums before he wondered to stop himself. Her ass had simply felt too perfect in his hand, and he wanted to feel it sag and ripple before it fell back into place in his grip. Preparing himself for a fireball to the face, he can only hear a sudden gasp beneath her wide-brimmed hat, all her movement down below ceasing, her body clenching completely.

“… Mistress Sigrith?”

She lifts up her hat with one hand, brow perked.

“Huh. So, that’s what you do to those horses?”

Sylvan blinks, unable to formulate words even as she slinks away from him, moving too fast for him to react as she’s suddenly on her knees, tumbling down to the floor and working on getting his belt off as the heels of her feet press up against her half-bruised ass.

“What are you doing?” He asks uncertainly, dazed by his own stupidity as she rolls her eyes, dexterous fingers throwing that useless piece of leather away in some far corner of the room, forever forgotten.

“Sucking your cock.”

That answered that, at least.

His pants were down a second later as he still thought to himself just how he’d managed to talk her into this by smacking her on the ass, and he thinks to ask herself that very question, but he sees the way she’s admiring his thick, dark, long cock between his legs and realizes it’s best he leave the mysteries of the universe to the expert.

Looking down, he cannot quite make the angle work, so he lightly tips her hat back, allowing him the spectacular view of her face a few inches away from his dick, acutely reminded of how most of her lipstick has been left smushed across his face, which, while sexy, still managed to disappoint him. As if sensing his thoughts – certainly so, even – she glances up at him, lifting one finger before turning it and wagging it at her lips, sending up a puff of smoke that left her mouth perfectly manicured yet again, and, more importantly, full and ripe yet again. And wet.

“This takes days to come off, by the way,” she alerts, picking up his dick in one hand and leaning, looking more excited than a wildcat about to pounce on its meal.

“Wait. Wh– Ooh. Fuck.”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that it’s gonna take at least a week before all the lipstick finally gets off him. He’s too busy putting the sight of her pressing those lips against his cock, the cougar of a woman pressing those lips meant for spellcasting against his urethra and kissing it with the sincerity of a first love, adding a fine layer of pressure directly onto the hole and barely touching it with the tip of her tongue before pulling back with an audible pop. In its wake is yet another lipstick mark, and a trail of saliva that connects it all the way back to her lips. Sylvan catches, barely, the sight of her rolling her tongue as she swallows some of his precum.

“Don’t recall that spell, Sylvan. Who taught you it?”

Without waiting for his answer, she goes back in for seconds, only she doesn’t stop this time.

Her lips pull back to give him room to enter her mouth, and with his fingers gripping hard on the table, he enters the warm sanctuary of her mouth. The heat hits him instantly, and the wetness isn’t long after as her tongue smothers the head of his cock before rolling, twisting agilely in only the way a practiced oralist could as she guides his dick deeper into her mouth, landing on the underside of him and lapping. Swiping across the ticklish, soft bottom of his cock in a move that makes him moan and laugh at the same time, one hand suddenly flies to the back of her head, folding her hat as she presses the tip of her tongue to the base of his dick, sliding it back, closing her lips just enough to encase him so that every inch of him feels the same dough-like texture, humming happily as her lips sucking all the way until the tip of him, tongue dragging all the while.

“Sigrith,” he breaths, finally tossing her hat off altogether so that he can get a grip on her raven locks, mesmerized with the sight of her own enraptured eyes, gone to her own arousal as he pops out of her lips only for her to add a second kiss to his tip, tongue sliding off him and leaving a soft, broken trail of violet across him from her mouth. Once her tongue falls off him, she licks his tip again, then a third time, lapping at it ‘like a dog,’ he thinks, just loudly enough that he fears she’ll hear, but sudden attention only allows him to see that she’s managed to distract herself with her hand, finishing what he’d started earlier by pushing up her dress so that she can reach her slit. Pumping her fingers into herself, she concentrates on the taste of his cock, the heat and heaviness and the utter Sylvanness to it as she imprints the taste of him to her tongue, letting herself grow more addicted by the second even as the boy in front of her continues to pant and huff at the sight of her endlessly licking his weeping tip, continually pumping out more cum for her to gather and swallow. What he’d wondered was humming had been her own quiet guttural noises, ones he’d been announcing to the world himself, and now grew louder as she descended down upon him again with a gusto, now firmly wrapping her lips around him and sucking pointedly, wildly licking at him with an eagerness that had him bucking wildly, hunched over her bobbing head, violet-lips lovingly worshipping his cock as she finally pushed him down her throat, making him cringe and kick his leg, fucking kicking the table even and nearly falling over before he manages to catch himself with one hand.

Sigrith doesn’t care, so focused and intent on making her exotic apprentice is she that she finally grabs his attention with her eyes, using her thumb to shift and circle her clit while the other moves up to cup his testicles, gently squeezing them and swallowing, restricting nearly all the movement of his cock and surrounding him with a silky tenderness that he wondered Sigrith was impossible of – except for her worldclass ass.

Sylvan blinks, realizing the ancient sorceress that had vexed him so currently had him lodged down her throat.

He cums.

Harder than he ever had before. Every ounce of tension and trouble she’d put him through and /caused/ herself floods her throat, painting it a new shade of white and spilling down into the black-haired witch’s gullet. Her toes curl as she pushes herself further, pausing only so she can focus on the mesmerizing way her friend’s cock feels as it pulses inside her body, closing her eyes and (somewhat managing to) sigh happily at her first amounts of satisfaction in years.

Sylvan, not quite as satisfied as she, and in a quick act that neither of them expect, grabs a full head of her hair as he drags her off him, making her whine and shortly after open her green eyes wide as the other half of his cum sprays directly onto her gorgeous face, marring it and her beauty mark as he grips his cock, being careful to make sure as much of it leaves a stain on the cocksucker’s mouth, face, chin, and neck as feasible before he’s emptied himself, depositing half of his seed across her throat or in her stomach and the other half across her face, mirroring her own ‘marks of conquest’ that she’d left on him.

Huffing, he takes a final, long look at the imperious sorceress, suddenly looking several times less regal and powerful with two weeks of pent up cum her face, wondering how this would affect their future lessons together whenever he’d have to look at her without imagining it seeping down her chin and onto the floor along with her own release.

It becomes twice as hard to look away from it when her eyes open and she takes her first breath, those unforgettable emerald eyes of hers glancing up at him with a smile, withdrawing her hand from her groin with a rare blush of her own.

“Good lesson today, apprentice. Same time tomorrow, I hope.”

Sylvan quirks a brow.

“You aren’t finished yet. Some elf I’d be, leaving you like that.”

She snorts, and he’s already imagining his face tucked between her legs, manicured nails digging into his scalp and pulling him deep before she’s on the rise back up, letting out a confused hum.

“You’re still hard?”

He was, though he’d barely noticed it himself, as distracted as he was on other things.

“Usually takes me two tries to get it soft. I’ll handle it later.”

That seems to offend her since she scowls at him through the drying cum on her face, occasionally managing to clean it once it gets close enough for her tongue to reach, which really doesn’t help his dick get any softer.

“As if, peasantboy.”

His eyes stray to her bubbly ass as he she walks away from him, that pair of infinite legs of her stretching on like the sky as she reaches up into a too high cupboard, pulling down what looked like a black, circular band of some kind. She unhooked it, revealing what it was instantly to him.

“A collar?” He laughs. “Need help keeping track of me?”

“Who says it’s you that gets to wear it?”

Sweeping her hair back, she practically forces it into his hands before turning, holding her hair in the air and presenting her neck to him; the places that collars are meant to go.

Neither of them expected to get this far, but she’s obviously willing, and he cannot deny that the wondered doesn’t turn him the hell on to see her traipsing around with this sealed tight around her neck.

“Mm. A collar should come with a name, shouldn’t it?”

It’s Sigrith’s turn to laugh, glancing at him through a corner of her eye.

“How could I forget? I’ve always enjoyed pet, myself. When we’re in here. Let it slip outside, and I might have it slapped on you instead.”

“I’d like that.”