WARNING: The following story is fetish smut, made for perverts who enjoy natural body magic/detachment/disassembling people non-lethally. If you are not a member of that community, I strongly advise that you turn back now. Things will get freaky.
A sequel to my other story "Bloodless Sport", though it's not necessary to read that one to understand this one.
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As heir apparent to the most powerful empire on the map, Princess Elli Gution had reluctantly become accustomed to kidnappings. It was simply an occupational hazard for anyone of her power and prestige. This time she awoke from her head trauma induced beauty sleep to find herself on the workbench or sacrificial altar of a sorcerer. It was easily identifiable, even in her half unconscious haze, as all evil sorcerers seemed to have the same interior decorator. The familiarity of what were supposed to be unsettling and alien surroundings sort of took the menace out of things; Elli hardly blinked as her captor materialized nightmarishly from the inky veil of shadows, not dignifying them with a scream or even a gasp.
Not that her captor’s appearance loaned itself to menace. While the sneering witch overcompensated with solid black eye shadow mimicking the skulls strewn across the table, lips buried beneath plum lipstick and parted to reveal unnaturally perfect pearly teeth, a dress so thin that even in flickering candlelight Elli saw straight through it to the scandalous lingerie beneath, and glittering jewelry shaped like insects and arachnids, the woman beneath all that shit stood head and shoulders above Elli’s usual captors. Both literally, as she was well over six feet tall and approached with the distinctive click of stiletto heels, and in beauty. Her figure athletically sleek, her face cute and sharply defined with big brown puppy eyes, and the long, flowing, raven black hair cascading down her shoulders was… slightly askew?
A fist slammed into the table inches from Princess Gution’s head, snapping her out of her captor appreciation. “Hello, Princess. Do you know who I am?” The witch asked in a vague accent, leaning in close enough for Elli to smell her lavender perfume over the smoldering incense.
“Yes.” Elli said, tone polite but face condescending. “You are kidnapper 43. Specifically, soon to be dead witch or wizard kidnapper 4.”
The witch gave a short, wheezing giggle. “Wrong. I am your murderer.”
The princess’ heart quickened a little; death threats were par for course, but most villains saved them for the part where they listed their demands, or to shut Elli up when she was undermining their authority. You couldn’t really raise the stakes from death, so starting there left villains nowhere to go. Still, it wasn’t the first time an overdramatic newbie got carried away, and the princess replied “Oh, hush. You’ve kept me alive thus far for a reason. So why don’t y-”
A long finger with two spider rings pressed against Elli’s lips, and like a dagger being unsheathed the witch’s perfectly straight, uncannily white teeth glinted in a grin. “You misunderstand. I do not intend to murder you. I already have.”
“What are you-” was as far as Elli got. Something was wrong. She was facing the witch directly, not laying on her back and looking up at her, the rough workbench chafing her chin. Her neck would have to be embedded through the table to be in a position like this, yet with panic induced adrenaline jolting her from the haze of recent unconsciousness the princess realized there couldn’t be a hole for her neck to stick through. She could feel the table not just beneath her jaw and on the back of her skull, but all the way between those points, as though the wood was inside her neck. Yet she could also feel her neck, a neck that somehow felt no wood but could feel both her right butt cheek and the top of her left foot pressed against it in a feat of anatomically impossible contortion. She opened her mouth wide, her perspective tilting slightly like her jaw was pivoting her entire head. It was like…
She remembered. That instant before it all went black. The witch stepping from the shadows. A glint of steel. The whole world spinning and dissolving into darkness. Routine kidnapping. But something was off. She had watched herself topple to the ground, in third person, her body crumpling in the distance. This witch hadn’t bludgeoned her with the pommel of her sword like so many previous kidnappers. She’d used the edge. She’d decapitated her.
The witch saw the panicked tears welling up in the princess’ eyes, and explained “You were found in nearly two dozen pieces spread across your bedchamber. To the world, you are dead. Nobody is coming to rescue you. Nobody would suspect I’d secretly disinter and revivify your pieces with infernal magic, or that I’ll… uh…” the witch looked off to the side, scratching her scalp and accidentally revealing some sandy blonde strands beneath her skewed raven hair. “Uh, well, you and the rest of this pathetic world will soon be brought to ruin by my genius!”
The princess scowled. Did this witch seriously forget her own evil plan?
Sensing she was losing her captive, the witch cleared her throat and said “But, such machinations can be carried out at leisure. Now that you are awake, I owe you a royal welcome!” The witch bent over and the princess felt an arm rummage through her assorted pieces, pieces stripped naked and stuffed into what felt like a burlap sack which now lay just beneath the table her head rested on. Her royal dignity had vanished, her body reduced to a butcher’s selection which shivered with shame as the witch’s jewelry and nails scraped and clawed at the decadent meat. The princess blushed and clenched her jaw as the witch’s teasing fingers pushed past her sensitive virgin flesh, until they sank into their final targets.
The princess reflexively laughed as nails dug into her soles and pulled her feet past the rest of her body out of the bag. The appendages bounced off the wooden table as the witch casually dropped them, Elli’s toes squirming inches from her nose. The witch rose, towering over the princess with smug contempt as she picked up her detached right foot and lifted it with excruciating deliberation before driving it down on Elli, her heel slamming into the bridge of her nose and her arch resting across her brow.
“As your tyrant heel stamped across the broken bodies of your peasantry, so too shall you suffer the heel of your broken body!” The witch theatrically declared, rubbing her metaphor in Elli’s face. The soft foot, like the rest of Elli, was unnaturally clean for something pulled from a coffin, but the odor of sweat and peach soap still flooded the nostrils of the humiliated princess. As she was made to step on herself, her mind filled with terrible visions of degradations soon to come. Soon. Very soon…
The princess looked up, past her foot, and watched the witch’s smile vanish. She looked queasy, plum lips tight and long, elegant neck twitching like she was choking down sick. The princess shut her eyes solemnly and awaited the witch’s next move… and waited… and waited… and as she waited, the foot on her face went from forceful stamps to gentle nudges and soon it was just sort of laying on her. Elli defiantly declared “Try as you might, there is nothing you can do to break my spirit!”, making sure to speak slowly and open her big mouth as wide as possible to show off her fat tongue.
Nothing happened. The foot wasn’t moved further down her face. She opened her eyes, and the witch was actually covering her mouth, trying to hide her gagging.
“UGH! Banana!” The severed head announced, rolling her eyes.
The foot tumbled down her face and onto the table before the safeword even ended, the witch turning away and retching. “Sorry!” She said weakly, taking deep breaths far from the feet. “Sorryyy! I just… I can’t deal with feet stuff! It’s gross! Sorry!”
“You’re not even the one dealing with them any more!” her partner huffed, looking longingly at the delicious little toes she hadn’t even gotten a lick of. “All you have to do is shove them in by big spoiled princess face until I say the line to make you stop for real! Seriously Layla, how can a surfer be grossed out by feet?!”
“It’s the context!” Layla argued. “Feet aren’t gross, but in a sexual context… eugh! It’s weird! Feet aren’t sexy!”
“But severed heads are?” The severed head asked.
“Yours is!” Layla defensively replied, turning to face her wife. “Not severed heads in general, just your beautiful, huggable, precious little doll face!” Layla explained, holding her breath as she leaned down and pinched her partner’s defenseless cheek.
“Don’t you butter me up.” Reg said, smiling and rolling her eyes as an excuse to avert her gaze. “Whatever, do you want to take a break and try again or just skip to the next part?”
“Next part.” Layla answered. “Uh, is hands or tits next?”
“You tell me, you’ve got the script.” Reg said, detached hands rustling in the burlap sack. She knew exactly what was next, even after the four rewrites she’d made as the pair kept overestimating Layla’s kinkiness.
“Can I just reiterate sex shouldn’t need a script? Or eight pages of lore? Porn is scripted, actually doing it should be, like… spontaneous. Improv.” Layla argued, turning around and passing through the thick black sheets she and her wife had hung across their bedroom to give this corner the appropriate ambience.
“Well, may I reiterate that this is my birthday present? My belated present? That I had to make for myself? Because you obviously forgot and just came home with the first bottle of Italian wine you found and a card signed in pencil?” Reg teased.
“Spontaneous. Improvised. Do you ever listen?” Layla joked back, rifling through the double-spaced annotated script. Reg allegedly spent days on just the first draft, let alone the rewrites, though given the number of props and costumes she had already, Layla suspected she’d actually had this in the back pocket for ages and had been waiting for an excuse to whip it out. “Ok, so… oh. Uh, hey, Reg? I thought you said you took these next lines out.”
You didn’t see that before we started?” Reg asked, wondering if her wife even bothered to check for updates beyond the foot part. “Anyway, I changed it like you asked. It’s a lot less harsh now. No vulgarity.”
“It wasn’t the fucking vulgarity that bugged me.” Layla said. “You know body shaming is a big no-no for me.”
“It’s not body shaming, it’s dirty talk! Besides, Skevril the Sorceress is an evil bitch, and evil bitches say mean things! Mean things that may not really be true and are just being said to break the spirit of a bratty, plump princess who might be sensitive about her weight. The princess, not the actress portraying said, who’s perfectly comfortable in her curves but would like to experiment with degrading dirty talk.” Reg argued.
“Regina Kolibri Smith-Vincenzo, you are the single most beautiful woman in the world. I’m not saying… any of this.” Layla said with finality.
“OW! Cavity!” Reg complained, miming a toothache at her wife’s sweetness. “Whatever, just… improvise the next part, I guess.” She ordered, already planning the script’s fifth draft in her head.
“My specialty.” Layla said, skimming the script for key pieces. Taking a deep breath and pushing her escaping dirty blonde hair back into the cumbersome black wig, she put on her best body-positive evil-witch vibes and stormed through the curtain into the darkened corner where the helpless, humiliated princess cowered as much as an immobile and still a little annoyed head could cower.
“Oh, how the mighty are laid low!” The witch spat, sweeping the feet aside and reaching into the bag for a new toy. Sinking her powerful fingers into the princess’ midriff, severed from hips and torso, the detached abdomen was roughly pulled from the bag and dropped heavily on the table before the princess, close enough to graze her chin with each inhale. The princess’ breath bounced off the table and slithered up her skin like icy snakes, sending shivers through the 4 different pieces of her spine. The witch rested her left hand on the cut surface and leaned into it like a pulpit. Some sort of arcane pink barrier kept the princess’ innards in her and prevented the witch’s hand from sinking into said, though the princess keenly felt her weight. The barrier was solid but sensitive, tingling like static as the witch drummed her fingers against it. “Such power and privilege, gone in an instant! Tell me, how can you stomach it?”
Reg rolled her eyes, her parts performing a segmented cringe at the lameness of that pun. “Oh, go fu-UHHAHAHA!”
“I’m sorry?” The witch asked, gingerly brushing her right hand’s long, pointed, definitely real nails across one of the princess’ love handles, her plump belly convulsing with laughter. Sliding the hand resting on her stump forward, she slipped the tips over the edge of the cut to deliver a frontal assault, squeezing and releasing her delightfully squeezable flesh. The burlap bag at the witch’s feet went berserk, naked princess parts squirming and shaking and further scrambling the flustered princess’ senses. “I didn’t catch that.”
“STOP OR I’LL PEE!” She cried. While that wasn’t the safe word, Layla wasn’t about to bet on this being in character. Raising her hands and stepping back as though the cackling head had drawn a gun on her, Layla had to wait a long time before Regina could bring herself under enough control to speak, the moisture of her breath mixing with the sweat on her stomach until her whole midriff glistened like she’d stepped out of a sauna. “Fuck. You know I hate tickles!”
“I know. Skarvel is torturing the princess. Torture isn’t enjoyable. Besides, how is an evil bitch like me supposed to resist exploiting such a vulnerable underbelly?” She asked, sliding her hands down the sweat soaked surface and then across until both hands were full of royal meat. She squeezed tight, the princess giggling in a much deeper tone. “Your decadent lifestyle has left your body equally decadent. Soft, plump, delicious. For a predator like me, you’re a feast!” She mused, leaning in and gently gnawing the edge of the cut and top of the abdomen without breaking eye contact.
Ignoring the fact that Skevril flubbed her own damn name, Princess Elli wheezed “P-predator? You’re nothing but a cowardly scavenger, feeding off scraps.”
“Hmm. Perhaps.” The witch conceded, flipping the midsection onto its back and resting her chin on it like a pillow. “I do prefer prey that can’t fight back. Particularly the tenderest, juiciest prey.”
“Tenderest isn’t a real word.” Reg said, the Italian taking a special glee in correcting English speakers on their own language after years of getting her second language dissected and criticized.
“Well irregardless, your rich diet has endowed more than your belly.” Layla or Skevril or Skarvel said, sliding her chin off her princess pillow and bending over so only her barely clothed butt poked above the table. The witch searched through the rapidly emptying bag and pulled out two fleshy, freckled, teardrop shaped pieces and stood up, careful not to smash her head on the underside of the table again. She held the detached bust in front of her own, smirking as she swayed her hips which in turn swayed Elli’s limply hanging breasts. Even with the lingerie’s generous padding and the size discrepancy between the giant witch and her short captive, Elli’s tits eclipsed hers. Shaking the free floating breasts, watching their shape distend and compress, the witch licked her lips so enthusiastically the princess half expected a bib to magically materialize.
Then she tossed a tit into the air, grabbed it so it was facing herself, and bit down. The princess gasped in shock at the suddenness of the witch’s attack, having expected much more banter. Skevril growled as she gnawed, shaking her head side to side like a dog with a chew toy. Gently brushing the other breast across the tissue thin fabric over her midriff, showing the princess both intense roughness and tenderness, Elli was flustered and short of breath in seconds. Ellie watched her detached midsection as her breathing became erratic, her back arching and her cute little pot belly heaving. She blushed and clamped her lips, trying to suppress any sense she was enjoying this. She wasn’t enjoying this.
“My apologies your highness, am I boring you?” The witch asked, seeing Elli’s avoidant eyes and faltering poker face. Looking down at the sweaty and saliva covered royal jugs, the witch’s eyes lit up. “Worry not, I will quell that boredom!”
Laying on Elli’s stomach, the witch shoved the princess’ own breasts into her face, smothering her and slowly scooting her head back across the roughly finished table. Soon the princess was pinned to the wall, trapped between a soft and a hard place as she was smothered under her own flesh. Opening her mouth to shout futile protests proved a catastrophic error, as it let the witch twist and force both nipples into the princess’ mouth as she continued to bury her in buxom. The princess gave a muffled cry as the naughty witch forced herself on herself, her midriff pulsating beneath the scoundrel. She could hardly breathe, her mouth opening wide and her lips shifting erratically as she tried to dodge around her own flesh for desperately needed oxygen, covering herself in saliva as she did and licking herself all over by total accident. The fact her nose was uncovered didn’t seem to register, even as her cries grew faint and her movements stilled. With a final whimper, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her tongue lolled out. She was gone, returned to the void from whence she’d been wrenched.
The witch smothered a few seconds more, then pulled her detached tits away from her dead, blinking face and let them roll out of her hands and onto the roughly finished table. Pressing a finger into the forehead of her recently re-departed captive, the witch declared with cloying sweetness “Sorry dear, you’re not getting off that easy.”
The witch recited a short chant of gibberish noises, and princess gasped back to life. She blinked a few times, took in her surroundings, and scowled. “What do you want?”
“To take over the world!” The witch declared, throwing her arms up as if expecting an accompanying crash of lightening. All she managed to summon was a clack of plastic and a hiss of pain as her knuckles and painted toy rings hit the ceiling. Rubbing her hands together, the witch clarified “But that’s long term. For now, all I want is satisfaction! And you’re going to give it to me!”
With half of her pieces out of the bag, the witch was quickly able to wrap her long fingers around two soft hands with short, well manicured nails. The witch studied them for a few moments, the already dainty hands looking downright lilipution in the witch’s mitts. She admired the length and girth of each digit, their pristine skin unmarked with the scars of labor, the obvious tan line where Regina’s wedding ring had been that she had to pretend wasn’t there since the princess wasn’t supposed to be married.
Sticking the princess’ wiggling digits in her mouth, trailing saliva and traces of plum lipstick as she popped them back out, the witch pulled the neckline of her lingerie away from her lithe frame and stuffed a hand down her bra as the princess tried to squirm free. All Elli managed to do was fondle and excite the chuckling witch. Between the padding and the fact that the garment was designed and adjusted to fit someone with relatively small breasts compared to their torso thickness, Elli’s hand was snugly crushed against the witch’s tit, and despite what the old peasant expression led her to believe, Elli discovered that there was nothing cold about it. In fact, the only thing hotter was what she found pressed against her other hand.
Soft folds felt familiar and foreign to the female future sovereign as her hand was shoved down her captor’s panties. While nobody would dare to ask the emperor’s daughter nor would she deign answer if they had the impudence to ask, she had in fact explored herself sexually in the privacy of her chambers, and as such she knew what a woman in the throes of passion felt like. While this womanhood was not a perfect mirror of her own, it reflected well enough for Elli to know her way around it. She had half a mind to start clawing and tearing at the witch’s most vulnerable piece, and perhaps she would have, if it would do any good. But the witch had diced her into meal sized portions and her magic was as powerful as it was vague. She doubtless had the power to undo any damage Elli did, especially since Elli had filed her nails down to harmless round nubs just minutes before her untimely demise.
“I know what you’re thinking.” The witch said. “Please me, and you will be spared the worst of my wrath. Displease me, and you will suffer beyond description.”
Left with no choice, Princess Elli Gution gently fondled her vile reanimator. She was sick to her severed stomach, feeling the sweaty, warm, panting witch writhe and squirm beneath her touch. The way her fluttering heartbeat could be felt straight through her chest, the way the statuesque woman became weak kneed and malleable, the way her eyes locked on Elli’s as her jaw dropped and let out the sexiest moan Elli had ever heard, it was positively disgusting! She blushed with shame, and nothing else, as her hands worked the witch into a frenzy, her hips involuntarily bucking and her heels threatening to drop out from under her. She stepped forward and braced herself on the table, hunched over and gasping as she air-humped the hand stuck in her pants.
Elli’s sweat mixed with the moisture of the witch’s hot and heavy breath falling on her forehead, her hair matting to her scalp. In spite of her best efforts, Elli couldn’t force her eyes to close, she couldn’t look away, she was transfixed by the horror of the spectacle as she continued to grope her captor to completion. She was left with no other choice, obviously, than to try and bring about the end as quickly as possible. All she could do to end her suffering was to hasten its end, and so that is what she did.
The Princess had never laid sinful hands on anyone, and by the gods not another woman, but using what she knew of her own body at least gave her some sense of direction that she would not have had with a man. She knew a few tricks, a few movements that excited herself, but she couldn’t do them properly. Not without her arms, the ability to reposition and use leverage to empower her motions. The witch seemed to sense Elli’s handicap, and after kicking her stilettos off and stabilizing herself on flat feet that still stood her over six feet tall, she let go of the table and grabbed Elli’s hands once again. Now instead of operating them like mere toys, she tried cooperating with them, following their lead and trying to press and release them to maximize her pleasure. In turn, Elli tried to follow the witch’s lead and match her speed to the force and cadence. It was a bit out of sync and bit more fumbling than either woman would’ve achieved on her own, but the pair developed a rhythm, and soon the witch was howling in ecstasy.
Elli felt the witch convulse before she saw it, felt her quaking womanhood and fluttering heart through her fingers before her eyes could process her arching back and tightly squeezed eyes. She knew that it was done long before the witch howled “Satisfaction!” and collapsed onto Elli’s belly. She laid there for a few moments, basking in her self proclaimed satisfaction as Elli grimly mulled over this encounter. This was her first sexual encounter. For all she knew, it would be her last. Or perhaps this would be the rest of her life, spent as a collection of toys for a sexually deviant witch. Oh, the horror! That witch looked up at her and smiled, reaching down into her panties and pulling out Elli’s now glistening hand. She mockingly kissed the back of that hand, before inserting each of its fingers one by one into her mouth and licking them clean. Elli winced as the witch’s tongue rolled over her flesh, disgusted by the smack and pop of her lips and the warmth and moisture that surrounded her, that reminded her of what she’d just been forced to do. Mercifully, the witch was all too quick to run out of fingers to lick, and with a contented sigh she gently laid the hand out on the table and pat its upturned palm appreciatively. The hand’s mate was soon reunited, the witch withdrawing it from a bra which now hung more loosely on her frame. The witch didn’t bother to readjust it, touching it only so she could feel the ghost of Elli’s touch on her skin. The small pink marks that would fade all too quickly for the witch’s liking and all too slowly for Elli’s.
The witch opened her mouth to say something smug, then shut it and snapped her attention to some point behind her. “What was that noise?” She asked herself.
“I didn’t hear anything.” The princess said, lying and telling the truth at the same time. Regina had heard nothing, because in truth there was no sound, but in the fiction of their game there was a mysterious sound that would catch the witch’s attention,and it was a sound Princess Elli Gution had heard. It was the creaking of a door.
The witch narrowed her eyes, regaining her bearings as she came down from the high of her playtime. Grabbing some sort of scepter out from under her workbench, the witch cautiously walked into the darkness, disappearing from view.
The tense silence stretched on for ages, and was shattered in an instant with the clash of metal on metal. Elli squeaked fearfully as the sounds of an intense battle, one of both conventional weapons and magic, raged out of eyesight. The battle lasted many minutes, longer than she was expecting, honestly. At some point she began to get the strange impression that the noises had begun looping, repeating a perfect pattern of clashes and magic attacks. But eventually, she heard an agonized scream echo through the halls, and the sounds of battle stopped. Silence returned.
Then, footsteps. The heavy footsteps of booted feet.
Elli squeezed her eyes shut as dazzling light flooded the darkened room. When she opened them, the preternatural darkness had been dispelled like a curtain parted, leaving her in a pleasant if unfamiliar bedchamber with a very familiar friend.
“Cass!” Elli cheered, never more excited to see the strangest of her royal guard.
“Elli!” The bodyguard replied, clutching her leather armored chest and recoiling at the sight of Elli’s naked, sweaty, dismembered, still living body parts scattered around and beneath the table. Remembering her manners, Cass took a knee, bowed her head, and rested a hand on her chest. “My liege! I thought you had perished!”
“I did. But I got better.” Elli joked. “If you didn’t come to rescue me, would you care to explain why you’re here?”
“To avenge you!” Cass replied, rising to her feet. “The Emperor placed a fortune of a bounty on your killer’s head, got just about every bounty hunter, adventurer, spy, and chancer on the continent looking for them. An assassin from the Eastern Baronies was captured and confessed to your killing, under the duress of torture, and your father exacted his revenge and launched an invasion of the East.”
The guard, or was it former guard, averted her gaze and frowned. “But I knew your killer wasn’t this Eastern assassin. The emperor accepted it as fact only so he’d have pretext for a war he’d been aching to wage. The rest of the royal guard didn’t believe me, said I was delusional, but I knew. And so I set out alone to avenge you. I hunted this witch down day and night, tracked her across the lands, hardly ate or slept for my grief and fury. I had failed you, but I would not fail you again.”
Elli looked her savior up and down. She certainly looked haggard from her long and difficult quest. Sweat covered her bared arms and face, her short bob of sandy blonde hair was matted to her head and knotted up, and deep, dark circles had formed around her eyes like she’d caked on black eye shadow and had tried and failed to wash it all off in only a few minutes. That said, the tall, tanned, leather clad warrior with the prominent leg scar and the nick on her chin shaped just like the edge of a surfboard was still quite a catch. It always struck Elli as odd that Cass never seemed to speak of anyone in her life, even as the all the male guards spoke of wives and girlfriends when they thought Elli was out of earshot. Elli brushed those thoughts aside, and said “Well, your commitment to your duties is admirable, and I will ensure that it is justly rewarded on our return to the capital. Now th-”
“No.” Cass interrupted, her eyes widening as she realized her impudence. “Er, forgive me, my liege. I meant no disrespect. But… I must confess that it was not duty that pushed me onward. It… it was love. I love you. I have always loved you. I know it is forbidden, for one woman to love another, and I have tried my best to suppress my feelings, but seeing you alive again, after I thought you well and truly lost… I cannot hide it any longer. Even if this love is not returned, even if you have me executed for my heresy, I refuse to stand beside you for another moment unless you know my feelings for you.”
Elli stared into Cass’ eyes in total silence, watching the passion burn behind them. She knew every word of Cass’ confession was true, but “A-as you say, this love is forbidden. I don’t… I can’t…”
“Yes, my liege. I understand.” Cass said, nodding solemnly. “I will trouble you not with my feelings, I just had to let it out this once.” She approached the table, and realized she may have made her confession slightly prematurely. “Er, forgive me, but I will have to lay my hands upon you. I assure you, I intend nothing untoward.”
Timidly, the warrior lifted the sack still containing Elli’s legs, hips, torso, and arms with just one of her powerful arms and a single short grunt of exertion. Piece by piece she refilled the bag, blushing as she clutched her tummy and staring at the ceiling as she handled Elli’s breasts. The last piece to go, apart from her head which she had no intention of dumping in the sack, was Elli’s left hand, sticky with spit but soft and tender to the touch.
Cass’ breath hitched as she felt Elli’s detached hand tighten its grip on hers. She looked the princess in the eyes, and saw her smile. “Cass, perhaps I was a bit hasty. I must confide that I too have suffered sinful fantasies of other women, some featuring you yourself, and while I’d never acted on these desires of my own will, the witch used me in ways that… well, ways that perhaps I could enjoy, with someone else. Someone like you. Even if we cannot have our love, out there, perhaps I could reward your heroism in some way in here.” Her smile shifted from sheepish to lecherous as she asked in a sultry tone “Is there anything my brave hero desires?”
“Can I just reiterate that I think that this whole ‘rape equals lesbian awakening’ plot point is kind of problematic” Layla said, cringing. “as is the whole misogynistic ‘sex as a reward’ thing?”
Regina rolled her eyes. “Look, do you want to do some tongue fucking or not? Because if you’re just going to kill the mood then-”
“I know, I know, just putting my objections on the record. In case you’re planning to rope me into a sequel.” Layla replied, raising her hands. Clearing her throat, she returned to her Cass character and with a breathy swoon said “Oh, my liege! Allow me to serve you to the fullest of my ability!”
Wrapping her fingers under the tingling magic barrier where Elli’s head and neck once met, Cass lifted the princess’ head to her own and locked lips with her in a sloppy kiss that grew sloppier by the second. While Layla had tried her best to wipe away the plum lipstick she’d worn as Skevril, Reg could still taste it distinctly. Not that she cared, wrapped up helplessly in the gentle embrace of her lover as her disjointed pieces squirmed below her. She closed her eyes, concentrating on making her kisses good but not too good. Elli was supposed to be a virgin after all, and while Reg knew exactly how Layla liked it Elli had no idea what Cass liked. It seemed to her however that Cass wasn’t a very picky kisser, the stifled noises catching in her throat growing more frequent and intense with each flick of Elli’s tongue. While Cass was clearly in the dominant position over the head, tilting and turning her to get better angles, Elli was taking full control of their tongue wrestling.
Not wanting her highness pulling all the weight in this encounter, Cass broke off the kiss and set Elli down panting and rosy cheeked on the table, digging through the bag and finding a piece the witch had oddly ignored. Pulling Elli’s detached hips from the bag and resting her butt on the table, Cass hunched over the visibly wet princess pussy and took a long, teasing whiff. If she shaved, she did so infrequently, the intoxicating odor caught in her bush and thrilling Cass’ inner animal.
The buzzing surface of pink energy covering Elli’s stump twitched along the edges as she shuddered, her eyes closing on impulse despite the beauty of the sight before her. Cass ran her tongue up the length of Elli’s womanhood, flicking her clit as it reached the top before starting right back at the bottom and repeating the motion. She repeated the maneuver several times, her tongue going a little deeper into Elli’s folds and her face pressing a little harder against her flesh each time. While Elli would’ve loved to wrap her legs around Cass’ head, to hold her in place and never let her go, there were certain advantages to her amputation. Without her thick thighs getting in the way, Cass was able to go deeper and move her head more freely than she otherwise could.
She took advantage of both of these facts as she wrapped up her foreplay and got down to business. Twisting and craning her neck to attack at anatomically impossible angles, Cass grabbed Elli’s hips, squeezed her royal ass and rocked her hips against her face and rolled them side to side in time with her tongue. The bag of Elli’s pieces thrashed as every party of her writhed in pleasure against one another. While she was supposed to have lines of dialogue for this sequence, Reg no longer had the brain power to recall any of them nor the muscle control to deliver them. She improvised as much as she could, which wound up just being a strained “Fuck!” repeated a dozen times at increasing octaves.
There was a final “FUCK!”, followed by a shuddering silence that signaled she had come and gone. Cass continued to tongue the princess, gradually slowing and letting her ride the high back down to earth with a second smaller climax on the way down. When she pulled her face out from between where her legs would’ve been and peeked over the princess’ hips, she saw an undignified blushing mess smiling a dopey grin at her. She had served her highness well.
“Cass?” Elli asked.
“Yes, ma’am?” she replied.
“I think I love you too.” Elli said.
Cass smiled, her smudged lipstick and mess of fluids over her lower face not detracting from her cuteness in the least. “I’m glad, but, I imagine the emperor will have you placed under much tighter security after this debacle. To continue our love in secret could be risky. I think-”
“Cass?” Elli interrupted.
“Yes, ma’am?” She repeated.
“Could you try reassembling me?” Elli asked.
“Oh, uh, yes. Yes, sorry.” Cass said, embarrassed that she hadn’t even thought to try that. Reaching into the bag, she grabbed what looked to be Elli’s left thigh and pushed it against her left hip stump. There was no noise, but with a bright flash of pink the magic barriers dissipated, and tugging at the thick thigh showed it wasn’t going to be coming off again. Ellie sighed with relief, and watched patiently as Cass reassembled her piece by piece. Left leg, right leg, tummy, torso, bust, head, right arm.
Cass was just about to stick the final piece back on and complete her princess, when Eli stopped her. “Ma’am?”
“Keep it.” Eli said, smiling. “I’ll say it was lost to the witch.”
Cass looked down, Elli’s tender left hand clutched in hers, gently stroking her palms. “Uh, thank you, my liege, but…”
“If I keep my hand, it runs the risk of being taken in some diplomatic marriage. I cannot allow this. When I am Empress, I will abolish the laws forbidding those of the same sex to wed. Then, you may take this hand in marriage.” She announced, examining her stump. “Until then, my hand shall accompany you on lonely nights. I hope it will serve you as well as you have served me.”
Cass looked back at the hand, back at the princess, and back at the hand, an impish grin spreading across her face. She nodded, and stuffed the appendage into her satchel. Without warning, she scooped the princess off her feet, marching towards the door in a bridal carry as she wrapped her handicapped limb around Cass’ broad shoulder.
“My liege?” Cass asked.
“Yes?” Elli replied, closing her eyes and waiting for the dramatic final line of her wonderful love story.
“You are such a goddamned nerd.” Layla said, laughing.
“Fuck you.” Reg replied, cradling her head to her wife’s chest and giggling as she was carried over the threshold again.