Succubi Happy birthday, archive guy (and ELH, apparently) Backwash from the gunship’s engines blew dust and grit across the area in waves, stinging his eyes. The fireteam was spread out, scanning the area and staying in cover. Corporal Dolton spared the vessel a last glance as it hit full burn and shot into the distance, then returned his attention to the task at hand. The Valyrie would maintain a holding pattern a few kilometers to the west, in between his team’s location and their Sergeant’s; in range to provide fire support to either half of the squad. “Command,” he voxed, “Squad 3, Team 2 in position.” He raised his lasgun and tracked the surrounding terrain, looking for movement. In the distance he could just make out the target, a lone farmhouse at the edge of a wilderness community. “Acknowledged, Team Leader. Commence recon and maintain vox-silence until scheduled report.” Dolton clicked the receiver twice, signaling his confirmation. With hand signals he directed troopers Jesse and Raven to take point. He and Bart would cover them while Gus watched their rear. Over the next half hour the team leapfrogged down the dirt trail which their maps had laughingly called a road, keeping to the ditch on one side to avoid detection. Six months earlier all contact with the fringe settlements on Actarus Major went silent. When local shipping had been disrupted two months later, his regiment had been diverted from an ongoing war against the greenskin “empire” of Charadon to investigate. Dolton kept his team at the fringes of the farm’s property line, watching for movement. This was their third sweep that week. Like most of the regiment, they’d found absolutely nothing. No wounded. No dead. No survivors. Houses, barns, campsites in the woods; entire towns were empty of people. No signs of a struggle, either. Those times a team did vox in a contact, the transmission went dead seconds later. They too disappeared without a trace. And so Dolton kept his team back, just to make sure. They had come from the north, and after several minutes of dead silence, he diverted half the team east and the other west. “Sarge gave me a full fireteam,” he told them. “He expects it back intact. Everyone take a stimm and keep focused.” Dolton took a second to pop a pill himself. It was a milt stimulant, just enough to put a spring in your step when you really needed it. He made sure his four troopers took theirs then sent them on their way. Once they were in position and signaled the all-clear, he took a deep breath and sprinted for the house. The corporal hit the building just to the left of a window, his back to the wall. From the corner of his eye he could see his team, Bart and Gus tracking the second story and the other two keeping an eye on the ground floor. He only hoped they remembered to keep an eye on their own backs, as well. Dolton slid a small hand mirror out of his pocket, raising it to the edge of the window. Gingerly, he rotated the reflective glass and checked the interior. Other than a well appointed dining room with some fancy china in a wall cabinet, there was nothing to see. There were two doors, both leading further into the house. Both were closed. He returned the mirror to his pocket and took a peek with his naked eye. The table was set for diner, six plates and several covered dishes. His mind returned to the intelligence report; four adults, two children: the farmer (male, 37), his wife (female, 35, heart condition), her mother (female, 62, legally blind), their children (boy, 12; female 9), and a laborer in their employ (male, 44). Everything matched up, but nothing was right. Looking down, he noticed the grass was above his ankle, already sprouting a few weeds. It was midday, but the electric perimeter lights were on. The table was set, but no one was home. Just like all the other homes… “Corporal Dolton,” voxed Jesse. So much for transmission silence, thought Dolton. But Jesse was an experienced trooper, he knew what he was doing. “Report.” The side door just swung open.” "Maintain position,” he ordered. “Raven, Bart; move around back and cover the door. Gus, we’re going in He gave them all a moment to get in position. Dolton kept his eye on the room, waiting until Gus gave him a pat on the back to tell him they were ready. “Cover me,” he whispered, shimmying the window open. It rolled up easily, unlocked. It was a bit of a risk, going through the window, if the family was home, but he wouldn’t sacrifice the tactical advantage on such a minute chance. Jesse, the team’s vox-op, would be readying a data-burst transmission by now; preparing to send off the feed if things went south. The window was fairly low, allowing Dolton to step through with little difficulty. He brought up his weapon as soon as he was inside, taking a defensive position in the corner of the room and aiming at one door while watching the other as Gus followed in behind him. The trooper made a few hand signs. -Right or left?- Dolton paused. His eyes flicked from one to the other. -Right- Nodding, the guardsman inched forward, keeping his lasgun poised and ready. Dolton edged up behind him, his own weapon locked on the left door, just in case. Gus twisted the handle and eased the door open with the barrel of his gun. It squeaked on poorly greased hinges, causing both troopers to grit their teeth. Behind it was a nondescript hallway running almost the entire length of the house. Apparently, the rest of the building lacked the finery of the dining room. A single cabinet stood about halfway down the hall. The strait, narrow corridor would be a deathtrap if anyone on the other side were hostile. “Team,” he called. “Any further movement?” He waited or a response. “Team? Report.” Another moment passed in silence. “Report!” “Corporal!” called Gus, crouching by the doorframe and using it to stabilize his weapon. The door at the other end of the hall had swung open. There was a flicker of movement as a small object arched towards them. “Grenade!” Dolton warned. It passed over his head and thudded against the floor. Instincts took over and he dove forward, eyes closed, into the hall. Behind him there was a dull whine and a flash of light. Even behind his eyelids everything became white for an instant. He rolled to a crouch, sparing half a second to look behind him. The dining room was intact, but Gus had simply fallen over on his side. He lay there, inert, as Dolton brought his lasgun up and squeezed the trigger. A dozen searing cracks left his eyes watering and the acrid taste of ozone in his mouth. The plain, wooden door became a mass of pockmarked, ashy holes and wafting smoke. Dolton waited, keeping his profile low, and watched door. He tried to keep his breathing steady. The door swung open and cracked against the wall, splintering. Startled by the noise, Dolton hesitated. A blur of motion rocketed towards him, moving so fast he couldn’t aim in time. Thinking fast, he lurched forward, knocking against the cabinet. It tilted on its side and he shoved harder, causing it to come crashing down. The figure moving towards him simply rolled over the top, using it as a springboard to leap directly at him. Dolton let himself fall, doubling over and banging against the ground. At the same time he pointed the lasgun straight up and fired, flicking the selector to full automatic. He peppered the ceiling as his assailant soared overhead. Dust and debris snowed down around him. Dolton tried to turn his weapon to follow his target. The figure landed softly on all fours, like a cat. He had just enough time to register wild red hair and piercing eyes before he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. His eyes fell to the weapon and widened in shock. Half the stock was simply gone. The creature in front of him jerked into life and he brought up what was left of his lasgun just in time; a serrated blade punctured through, stopping only centimeters in front of his eye. Dolton pushed back with all his might, then shifted his weight into a kick. His opponent had redoubled its charge and the unexpected trick sent it spiraling forward. The corporal’s foot impacted something and he felt a crunch. The figure kept up its momentum and rolled down the hall, heading for the door . He lurched to his feet, using the wall as support, and fumbled for his sidearm. Dolton brought it to bear just as his opponent reached the threshold. It stood tall and turned back. It was a woman. Her burning hair billowed behind her like a bonfire, but it was her body that drew his attention. Lithe and well muscled, she was still incredibly thin and stood so that her body was twisted, giving him an impressive view of her shapely behind and the outline of her breasts. The effect was unnerving; no human could bend that way. Those eyes, though. They stared him down like a predatory beard and he felt himself take an involuntary step back. Her statuesque face was marred only by the ruined mess of her nose. Blood streamed down her face, accentuating the curves of her neck and chest. Only then did he realize she was all but naked. “Freeze!” he said, gulping down his apprehension and pointing his pistil in her general direction. “Why?” Her voice was raspy, but songlike. If a gyrinx could talk, hers was the voice Dolton would imagine it would have. He opened his mouth, only for something to slap against his throat and wrap around his neck. Dolton jerked back and crashed to the floor, banging his head and knocking the wind out of him. The corporal floundered, gasping for air, as tried to pull the cord away from his neck. One hand pulled at the thick wire, desperately trying to give him some slack to remove the rest. Suddenly his hand twisted at the wrong angle and a sharp pain lanced down his arm. With bulging eyes watering, he looked up. A second figure, this one a vaguely defined white and purple blob to his strained sight, stood above him. Even as he watched, it placed a foot against his collarbone and dug down cruelly. He tried to wiggle away, but was held fast. Desperate, he forced his jaw to clamp down, but his mouth was too swollen for him to bite his tongue. Darkness took him. *** Dolton’s body recoiled from an electric shock of cold as it was doused in icy water, jarring him awake. Everything ached, but his joints ached doubly so. Every muscle in his body felt as though it had been cut off, chewed trough a meat grinder, patted back into shape, and stuck back someone only relatively close to the original location. His head spun worse than it did on a hot reentry drop. He tensed as another wave of liquid ice slapped over his body, leaving him breathless and shivering. Vaguely, he realized he was being suspended from the ceiling by his wrists. Also, he was naked. He couldn’t tell which of these facts distressed him more… “No’xiam fe erima, mon’keigh?” Dolton shivered, it wasn’t because of the cold. Warily, he opened his eyes. The room was mercifully dark, so he was spared the sting of a bright light. Peering into the gloom, however, he realized that was the only mercy he would receive in this place. Oppressive, steeply angled walls surrounded him; forming a hexagon near as he could tell. Each was covered, floor to ceiling, in wicked looking blades, serrated hooks, saws, needles, whips, flails, pliars and a myriad of tools and devices he didn’t even want to think about. Another several gallons of water splashed over him. “Awake now, human?” Blinking away the last of his headache, Dolton twisted to see who was talking to him. He turned back quickly, wishing he hadn’t bothered. His captor was a bent, emaciated looking creature. Vaguely human shaped, its skin was pulled over its bony body, stretching over it like a poorly stitched quilt. It cackled, actually cackled at his reaction. The creature had far too many teeth. Most of them were pointed. “Awake then, good.” Its voice sounded synthetic, like a steel-toothed brush scraping against a jagged stone. Despite it lacking any eyes he could see, the monstrous figure casually pinched his arm and stuck a large needle directly into his vein. Dolton cold actually feel whatever it was being pumped into his arm running through him. He heaved, but nothing came out. “None of that,” said the thing in a cheery but stern manner. “The Mistress doesn’t like messes. At least not that kind. The cleansing took care of that issue.” The creature, whatever it was, pulled the needle out of his arm. He watched as blood poured out of the hole, then sprayed something at it. It stung, but the bleeding stopped. “What di-“ A hand darted out and grabbed him by the testicles, squeezing down hard. “No speaking, human. The Mistress doesn’t like that.” It pocked and prodded the captive, all over Dolton's body, for several minutes. He was not gentle. Eventually, he, if the creature even was a “he,” seemed to grow tired of the silence. When he spoke again, he sounded like someone simply aching to brag about himself. “Oh my, but is the Mistress displeased with you,” he said conversationally. “Striking a blow would be one thing, but on her face? Oh, no. She is not pleased at all. Took me, what do you call them? Days? No, hours. Yes, it took me hours to get it back the way she likes it.” He slapped the sealed hole from the injection. “See this? This will help you to keep up with the Mistress. My own little concoction. That stuff in your system is candy in comparison.” A third hand appeared from underneath its thick robes, holding several bottles of stimm between the fingers. Too many fingers. He opened one and shook out several pills into the palm of yet another hand, popping them all into his mouth in one go. “Do you mind if I keep these?” he asked, shaking the bottles in front of his face. “Where are my men?!” he began, only for the creature to shove its fingers into his mouth and pinch his tongue. The taste was simply vile, like promethium mixed with gunpowder. He retched again. “What did I tell you about talking?” he asked, sharing a mouthful of halitosis that made the taste of its fingers seem like sweet wine in comparison. “And you should be more concerned with yourself, at this point.” “Shitar!” The creature froze, then slowly drew its fingers out of Dolton’s mouth. It bowed low to the figure that entered the room. It was the woman, the xeno woman, he had seen in the house. She hadn’t changed her outfit, a jagged but form fitting ensemble that would not have looked out of place on a hot beach; nor had she bothered to wipe off the blood that now crusted down her neck and over her cleavage. Her nose, though, was straight and narrow, not deformed at all. When she walked, her whole body seemed to flow forward as if rebelling against the mere thought of stillness. Her eyes still had that predatory look to them. As she walked towards them, Dolton instinctively tried to back away. His chains rattled, but he stayed in place. He almost didn’t notice the creature near him step forward and place a small metal wand in the woman’s hand. “He’s ready for you, Mistress.” The woman raised an eyebrow, probably at his use of the gothic tongue, but waved him away. Bowing again, the creature gave Dolton a final, wicked smile before departing. The Mistress slowly circled her victim, cocking her head and tapping the little device against her chin. She’d slow, now and again, to place a fingernail somewhere on his body and trace a line across it. The longer the line got, the deeper her nail dug into his flesh. Each time she touched him he would flinch away, reddening at the shame of it all. When she came into view again, he spit at her. She simply leaned to the side and it passed her by. She smiled, then placed the metal rod against his flesh. A jolt of pain raced through is body, causing him to twist and contort and scream. When she removed it, his nerves kept tingling and twitching. “I like a fighter,” she said. Her accent was strange, too much emphasis on the vowels. “You and I will have a lot of fun together.” Her hand shot up like a viper’s strike, catching him by the hair. She raised the rod up to his face, keeping it just above his skin. His skin began to prickle and his nerves, as though sensing the return of that pain, started to twitch again. Her eyes grew sharper as she drew her body in close. He could tell she wanted to feel him squirm under her. The rod barely scraped against his cheek, sending his whole body rigid. She pulled the device away, blinking in confusion. She wrinkled her nose a bit, then looked down. He followed her gaze. The head of his penis, still flaccid, was pocking against her thigh as it twitched like the rest of his body. Her head turned to the side slightly. Several emotions passed across her face in a haze; confusion, interest, confusion again, a bit of surprise, more confusion, and then, finally, amusement. She slapped the shaft to the side with the palm of her hand. It stung a little, but didn’t really hurt. Not like the rod. She smiled and, raising an eyebrow while looking him in the eye, slapped it again from side to side a few times. Her smile widened each time he winced or flinched. “You know,” she said, slowly, “this… isn’t actually that bad.” Her hand gathered him up, kneading into it with all her fingers. He was still dangling from the ceiling, so each little tug or tweak shifted his whole body in one direction or another. Brandishing the metal rod again, she pointed it upwards. Flicking her thumb over a seemingly blank section of metal, the chains holding him started to rise, bring him with up as well. He only stopped when his groin was roughly at her eye level. Evidently pain was not her little toy’s only function. She attached it to her belt, a very thin belt, and put wrapped her fingers over his penis. Though she wasn’t exactly gentle, it didn’t seem like she was trying to hurt him now. He hand began to pump back and forth, rocking his body so that he swung with each movement of her wrist. That hand of hers, though, was amazing. Her grip was tight and, although calloused, formed an unbroken circle when closed; like it had been molded to shape to hold a tube of just his size. Glancing at the dagger at her waist, he could almost believe it was. The Mistress’s eyes gradually grew wider, enlarging each time he rocked back into her hand while she pumped him more and more rapidly. As much as his arms ached, he couldn’t help the increasing pace of his heartbeat or the deepening of his breathe. In moments he began to twist and contort, trying to wriggle out of her grip while simultaneously trying to get deeper into it. Laughing at the way he squired, the woman pushed him a little further back than usual and opened her mouth. She leaned forward and on his return swing he passed right past her lips. She caught him, holding him in position, as she explored the shape of his shaft with her tongue. Her pace was slow and deliberate, tracing each line and groove with no seeming concern for the pressure building up inside of him. Evidently satisfied, she pushed him away once more and pursed her lips together so that he exited with a little wet pop. She stepped back, wiping her mouth off with one hand and reclaiming the metal rod with the other. He flinched as she raised it, pointing it straight at him. There was a muted click and he fell to the floor. His legs, unsteady as they were, hit the ground and twisted away from him. Dolton came to rest on his side, ribs and hip bruising painfully. As he lay there trying to rub life back into his limbs, she cleared her throat. Apprehensive, he looked up at the lithe-bodied figure standing above him. She had a hand either side of her waist, thumbs tucked into the sides of her bikini-bottom. Her mischievous smile widened as pressed her hands forward. The armored plate covering her groin eased off her skin, allowing him to trace the line of her shapely abs down… but not far enough to see anything good. She laughed again and Dolton reddened, realizing that his longing would probably get him shot by a commissar when he got back to base. If he got back to base. Her wrists flicked down, sending the piece of clothing to her knees. Just as he caught sight of a glistening gash between her legs, her left leg pumped straight up; obscuring his view but delicately slipping through the loop. The fabric, or whatever it was, slid down to her right ankle. Her other foot joined it there. With a dainty little kick, she flung it at his face. He ducked, but it caught him on the nose. Still shackled, Dolton rubbed it as best he could. Once satisfied there was no blood, his eyes turned back to the woman. She stood before him proudly, bottomless and legs spread out so her feet were planted wider than her shoulders. Her hands were still at her waist, but his eyes were drawn against his will between them. And a little lower. Dolton had been with women, before. He knew his way around the bedroom. The figure before him, though, took his breath away. From her covered, but shapely breasts down to the flat abs with their clearly defined muscles to the hairlessness between her legs, she was perfect. Perfect in a way no human could be. She seemed purpose built for action and movement. Looking at her now, standing and waiting, it seemed to be taking all of her effort. The Mistress crooked a finger and he felt himself being drawn in. He shuffled forward on his knees, acutely aware that his throbbing erection bobbed up and down with every waddling step. Dolton flushed a deeper shade of red, but kept moving. When he neared, the woman clasped a hand on the top of his head, pulling at the hair. She directed him closer towards her. With her other hand, she gently placed a finger at each side of her labia, easing them apart even as she forced his head steady to watch. Against her delicate, marble colored flesh the reddening between her lips was almost startlingly dark. They spread like rose petals and suddenly he could see everything. The hole of her vagina flexed open and closed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again. She quivered, just a little, with each breathe. “Open your mouth,” she whispered. The simple request still came out like a death threat. He followed her instructions and stuck his tongue out as far as he could reach it, leaning his head back at the same time. With a satisfied grunt, she pulled him in while rocking her pelvis out. As Dolton’s lips were pressed into hers he spread his tongue wide and began to force it up and down each side of her labia, desperately forcing the taste of her down his throat. He almost thought he could feel her heartbeat quicken as the blood pumping through the tiny veins under tongue started to quiver. Both of her hands were on his head now and she kept forcing it to angle her or there or there, directing him exactly where she wanted him to go. He followed willingly, lost in the heady sent of sex. Each shift of his tongue sent driblets of her juice running down the sides of his chin. Above him, she was moaning quietly as she tightened and relaxed the grip on his hair, rocking up against his mouth. Dolton shifted his hands so he could reach his own shaft. As he started to pump himself, he felt her chuckles under his tongue. The shackled bit into his wrists painfully and jabbed into his stomach, but he couldn’t stop himself. After several minutes, he felt the tension building up inside of him. She too felt something. Her whole body lurched forward and her legs bent, the squat forcing him backwards until he all but dropped. He lost his grip of his shaft and felt a lurch in his stomach as he dropped back to the floor, but she caught him and pulled up, driving his head between her legs. It was a painful position, and awkward, but he kept licking wildly regardless. His tongue brushed against a little nub where her lips met and, with a start of realization, attacked it with all his might. First he swirled his tongue around it in little circles, gradually spiraling inward. Then, as she twitched under his attention, he gently slipped the tip under the thin hood of flesh covering it. A jolt raced along her body and she pulled him in closer, making it hard for him to keep going. Without the room to maneuver, he simply flailed his tongue in every direction as fast as he could, slipping and sliding over and across her clitoris and everything around it. The Mistress’s fingers dug into his hair, pulling harder than ever before. He fought against the urge to yelp and kept going at the same pace. Just as he was beginning to think she would rip the hair out of his scalp, he felt her back arch and heard her scream out. The yowl echoed off the metal walls and filled the room with her voice. He started to choke. “Sib’ia, ko shitar, Shalara?” In the haze of sensations swirling around in his head, her voice seemed to be coming from the door. She dropped him to the floor with a muted clang, banging his head against the metal plates. “Sharala, sich, siori mon’keigh icto suasin farala mar.” Gradually, as the pain in his head subsided and the alien words kept washing over him, Dolton realized that he was listening to not one voice, but two. He looked towards the door, not failing to notice or appreciate the delightful callipygian display his captor was giving him, but still trying to shift so he could see past her long legs. For a second, he thought she was staring at a mirror, but soon he registered several differences between the figures. Though both had the same energetic, enticing figure of a master gymnast, but the wild hair billowing down their shoulders were red, in the case of his current captor, and a dark purple in the case of the newcomer. The new xeno also lacked the dried blood covering her chest, and was still wearing her full outfit… as minute and revealing as it happened to be. It didn’t take long for their attention to return to him. The redhead turned and looked down at him as the purple haired woman joined her. Neither seemed to care that one of them had her groin exposed and both seemed amused by his confused gaze. He was still erect, and they noticed this too. The newcomer sauntered closer, arrogance oozing from her with every step. Already barefoot, she placed the ball of her foot against his member and pushed down. She was surprisingly gentle. She said something to her companion and both of them laughed. Even as close as they were, he still couldn’t tell their faces apart. They seemed to have been pressed out of the exact same mold and painted in slightly different colors. Dolton supposed it was true, xenos do all look alike. “My sister,” said the one with purple hair, “seems to have decided on an… alternative form of punishment for your crimes against her beauty. “ She kneaded up and down his shaft, daring it to become larger. “As I have become bored with my current playmate, I will join her.” The alien turned to the other, “With your permission, Shalara.” “Please, dear sister,” cooed the redhead. “We have shared everything from the moment of our birth, why should this one be any different Viriana? Their grins mirrored perfectly and Dolton took a gulp. Two pairs of eyes danced across his body, but he couldn’t move or shift to cover himself. Things were getting out of hand and he was trembling again. Still pressing against his penis with one foot, the one called Viriana, the one with purple hair, eased her hands behind her back. There was a click and her breasts seemed to sigh as they lowered a little. Her sister came up behind her and slipped both hands under Viriana’s arms, inching them upwards and pawing at her breasts as they were slowly exposed. Wide eyed and fascinated, Dolton watched as each breast seemed to fall out of the brassiere. Somehow they were larger, considerably so, than they were while covered. She dropped the covering onto his chest once freed of it, leaning back against her sister, Shalara, and clearly enjoying the way the redhead’s fingers swam across them, probing gently. Shalara was flicking her tongue against Viriana’s neck, and her sister was replying in kind by easing her fingers up and down over Shalara’s labia. Shalara tensed as her sister’s fingers entered her, squeaking in and out wetly and with growing momentum. Not to be outdone, she dropped one of the Viriana’s breasts, Dolton pleased with the way it bounced against her, and slid her hand down her abs and straight under her only remaining covering. They stood like that for a long time, each sister escalating their hand movements to outdo the other. Soon both were rocking their hips and, as Viriana turned her head, her sister caught her lips in her own. They pressed their mouths together and let their tongues glide smoothly against each other. As their moans and breathing increased in pace, Dolton simply watched and enjoyed. Viriana’s foot was still easing up and down his shaft, and he was content to let them entertain each other. His fingers rose to his chest and took hold of the reinforced bra that lay there. The material was dense and heavy, and the plates that seemed bladelike actually were quite sharp. As his thumb traced the edge, it slipped into the cup. Instead of touched the interior, like he thought it would, it passed through a numbing resistance… then kept going. He pressed his whole hand in and marveled as it seemed to disappear into it. No wonder her breasts had seemed so much larger outside than inside… The sisters’ were so engaged with each other, flicking fingers in and out and around their sexes and apparently trying to suck the air from each others’ lungs, that they seemed to have forgotten about him. Shalara squeezed down on Viriana’s nipple as they both rocked and rolled into their companion’s hands. Dolton could see moisture dripping down underneath them both and lost control of himself. Panting hard, his whole body tensed. Viriana’s foot, oblivious, twitched at the unexpected feeling of cum being pumped out and over his chest. He gasped each time he spurted, biting his lip to keep from making too much noise. In the cold room, each warm droplet burned against his skin. The foot eased off of him. Dolton lay there, panting and eyes closed. Soon he realized the noises above had stopped. Groaning, he opened a single eye. Shalara and Viriana hadn’t moved. Their lips were still pressed against each other and they had their hands between each other’s legs… but they were still. Their eyes flicked towards each other, then down to him and back again. They separated. Viriana moved forward, her breasts wobbling with each step. She stopped, placing a foot on each side of his head. Behind her, Shalara took up a similar position with her feet planted next to his hips. “My, but he’s an eager one,” said Viriana as her sister leaned forward, placing a hand on each side of her hip. She pinched something on her sister’s belt and it simply fell away, the straps on her waist clicking open. The covering landed on Dolton’s face and he could taste her as some of the juices oozed into his mouth. Viriana nimbly twisted, turning around to face Shalara and switching which foot was on each side of his head. Without waiting for him to recover, she squatted down and jammed herself against his face. He hadn’t even had time to catch a glimpse of her before he was digging his tongue deep into her vagina, swirling it around in circles and forcing it as far in as he could get it. She rocked back and forth against his mouth and kept a hand on his shackles, keeping him from moving his hands. Every now and again the tip of his nose would scrape against her anus and she would redouble her speed. He was so engrossed with trying to keep her happy that he gave a shocked jerk when a hand wrapped around his shaft and started to pump up and down rapidly. Dolton almost hadn’t realized he was still erect, but then remembered the words of the grotesque monster from before. The pumping stopped and he tried to buck upwards into the hand, but he was held fast. Then he felt himself being carefully eased form side to side, as though being aimed. His eyes widened with realization just as a wave of pressure and heat oozed over him. Dolton felt the other sister’s lips pass over the head of his penis, then the whole shaft was melting as she wrapped around him. Evidently as impatient as her sister, Shalara too simply started to hump up and down on him without pause. Her hips rocked so violently and the pleasure seeping up into him was so powerful that he forgot to keep up with his licking. Viriana snatched up one of his fingers and twisted it back, almost to the breaking point. “Keep working!” Instead of pressing his tongue into her, Dolton started to lick, wide and slow, across the whole of her sex. She jerked at his first pass, then pressed down harder. Encouraged, he kept licking up and down, moving as slow as possible. Soon she released his finger. He felt both of the bodies shift forward and realized they had embraced. Their rocking and gyrating took on similar patterns, then synchronized. As one they’d shift, pressing hard against his dick or tongue at the same time. It didn’t take long for it all to overwhelm him. Dolton started to buck up against Shalara as best he could and he felt both of them squeezing tight. His tongue, briefly passing up into the purple-haired sister, was almost trapped, forcing him to pull it out slowly. The tensing over his shaft was so intense that he simply erupted without prelude. Shalara hopped up and down, grinding into him. He just kept pumping and pumping, releasing far more than he had the first time he came. Between his heavy panting and the wet pressure smoothing his face, he started to get light headed. By the time they pulled themselves off of him, he felt like he was swimming. When Shalara eased off his shaft he could actually feel the gooey strands of their mixed juices stringing them together. He felt her lie back on the ground as Viriana leaned forward, landing in a crouch on all fours. Dolton was able to raise his head just enough to see the white mess of his cum dripping out from between Shalara’s lips as Viriana bent down and pressed her mouth against them. The sounds of her slurping between her sister’s legs caused Dolton’s shaft to start twitching again. Seeing Viriana’s tight, shapely rump flowing from side to side at the same time did nothing to help. When Viriana was finished cleaning out her sister, she crawled forward on top of her. Sometime earlier, the redhead had stripped off her own brassiere, proving to be just as well endowed as the other xeno. Viriana pressed herself against Shalara and their breasts squeezed up against each other as they kissed. Dolton was able to shimmy into a sitting position. Before him was a long, lithe woman heaving up against the body of her near duplicate. Their heads were pressed so close he could almost hear their teeth grinding together. Viriana was straddling Shalara, pressing her sex as close to her sister’s as she could. As they slicked together a pool of their mixed juices were pooling underneath. Their kissing was becoming so frantic they seemed to be having difficulty breathing. “What,” one gasped, he couldn’t tell which, “are you, ah, are you waiting for?!” Shalara had reached up and was firmly grasping one of Viriana’s cheeks in each hand, her fingers digging into the flesh and pulling them apart. Dolton lurched up as best he could, wobbling slightly as he got up on his knees. From there he was able to stand, giving him the purchase he needed to squat down behind the two sisters. Shalara was still keeping Viriana exposed as Dolton leaned in, grasping his engorged member as best as his shackled hands could manage. He eased the tip between the woman’s lips and whipped it up and down. Just as he was about to push forward, Viriana lurched back faster than he would have thought someone in her position could move. Her rear lowered just in time the head of his penis to jab up against her anus. “There!” she cried. Pausing only to make sure he heard correctly, Dolton placed his hands on her back, trying to find purchase, and then rocked his hips forward. He passed through with little resistance. Panting, he gaped at the heat of her. His whole body was freezing in comparison. Gathering his wits, he eased back just Viriana turned around, her hand rocketing forward and grabbing him by the neck. “Fast,” she said, “and HARD.” Dolton looked down and nodded vigorously. Shalara had taken the chance to slide down and clench her lips on Viriana’s nipple, sucking at it loudly. She, in turn, began to drool as her eyes rolled back. Dolton started to hump. His shackled have him just enough room to grab hold of Viriana’s narrow waist, pressing her down against the redheaded alien. Squeezing, he rocked forward and back as fast as he could. The blood pumped in his veins like the pounding of a basilisk battery. The hole on his arm started to seep out a thin trickle of blood. Whatever that monster hand injected in him had worked wonders. As tired as he felt, he kept thumping into the xeno’s ass without pause and with the vitality of an astartes. He couldn’t remember ever being so hard. Underneath him, Viriana was squirming in delight. Her sister had taken to nibbling on her breasts, pinching down harder and harder with her teeth. Viriana had gotten the little metal rod away from her and was using it to press between her sister’s lips as an improvised dick. Both sisters were tensing and panting hard. Dolton kept slapping wetly up against Viriana’s ass, the juices from her vagina having been forced upwards by his rapid thrusting. He longed to squeeze those plump cheeks, or reach around to gather up a handful of meaty breast, but it was all he could do to hold on to her waist and keep humping. Eventually he lost track of time and felt his mind start to numb. His shaft felt like nothing more than a burning mass of… he didn’t know what. Viriana started to twist and contort beneath him and he knew she was climaxing. Her ragged breathing was only matched by the ferocity that her sister attacked her neck and breasts. The twitching around Dolton’s shaft became too intense for him to keep going. The alien with the thick, purple hair let out a shrieking wail. The room filled with the sound of her voice. As it echoes back to them, Shalara took up the cry as well. Their timbre reached a climax at the same time as Dolton. He too shouted out incoherently, feeling his testicles retract and his whole body squeeze the building pressure out through his member. He bucked so hard, Viriana was knocked from her sister’s embrace. He fell on top of her, jerking forward and back as best he could. After an agonizing few minutes, he was finished and rolled off of her. Dolton caught a glimpse of Viriana’s rear. Slick with sweat, a thick line of white ooze was slowly inching our out of her anus and down the side of her cheek. Covered in sweat and the Emperor knew what else, he closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing regular. He thought her heard the sisters began to pick themselves up, but a darkness swept over him and he lost all train of thought. *** The two sisters stood over the sleeping human, both as naked as he was. “He did well,” said Viriana in their own tongue. “Indeed,” Shalara agreed. They watched him breathe, his chest moving up and down. “He deserves a reward,” said Viriana. “Oh, I agree,” Shalara said. “I know just the place to put him.” “You want to release him?” “Only somewhere we can get him back from,” said Shalara. “It’s not as though we can just let such a fine toy go free.” “Of course not.” *** When Dolton awoke, he felt like an ork had chewed him up and spit him out. Everything ached, and the cold brought on shivers than made him ache even more. He was laying face down and, as he pressed his hands down to lift himself up, he realized the ground was covered in dirt. No, it was dirt. He looked up and saw stars, and trees. Dolton was outside. Out of the room. The corporal tried to rise, but his arms gave out. He had never felt more tired. Then he heard movement in the near distance. Footsteps. He no longer tried to move. The area filled with the warm glow of a lantern. “See?” said a feminine voice. “I told you I found a naked man in the woods.” The voice sounded young, and almost amazed at being right. “So you did, sister,” said a second voice, “so you did.” This one sounded older, more assured of herself, bolder. “He needs help,” said the first voice. “Obviously,” said the second. “Go back to the convent and have someone bring a stretcher.” Light footfalls faded into the distance. “And tell the prioress,” the more mature voice called. Dolton felt someone lean down beside him. “A man…” the voice said, barely a whisper. Before he passed out again, he felt a hand brush against his hair and over his back.