31. Bite by Pashen

by Pashen

Vynne can feel your excitement and fear etched into every hard line that seems intent on making contact with each inch of her body as possible, that she knows your feelings internally doesn’t cause alarm, indeed she barely registers the strange fact. Knowledge is hers, the drive to survive opens information locked away by the meddling of Jysdiira’s mindflayers.

Soft lips soon replace the warm caress of her nose against the side of your neck and the velvety swirl of her tongue is felt while she warms up the flesh protecting the rush of your dark-souled blood. The lightest scrape of her tiny fangs is designed to excite rather than scare, calling up goose bumps of erotic and forbidden delight but instead of piercing your flesh and partake of the healing contained within life-sustaining fluid, she leans back to push her advantage.

There is undeniably the strong pulse of arousal turning her wings and eye to a passionate shade over a background of arctic gray, a soft light begins to glow from the intense and stunning royal blue-violet hue. While her gaze slowly sweeps over your handsome features, delicate fingers lift from your shoulder to gently trace the line of your jaw, the pad of her thumb brushes over the sensual swell of your bottom lip, licking over her own as she does so.

While the drow have turned sex into a dedicated and celebrated art form, the females are the important ones, the timeless ritual is not about sharing the most intimate and intense experience possible, the whole encounter is often solely a means to bring the female to orgasm in the most explosive and memorable way, the men relegated to the role of gratifying their partner to the exclusion of their own needs and desires. Rarely does the woman show more affection than what is needed to prompt her male partner to fulfilling his erotic duty. Often males are left to deal with their own aching hardon, unrelieved by an unconcerned female after being sexually satisfied herself. Vynne knows all this.

This knowledge aids her now, another chunk of information she understands prompts her fingers to caress your black cheek, taking the time to trace the delicate contours of your ear. Everyone wants to feel special and cherished or with some males and females, frighteningly virile is the path to their ego, the object of fascination or fear by an attentive member of the opposite sex and it’s this fascination for you that she radiates, as if you are the first male to ever spark an overwhelming attraction within her. From the lowest kobold, to the most powerful of demons, like Intayus, Auvryilph and the red-eyed warrior of her dreams, this dynamic is a fact she’s learned from a lifetime of experience, a fact that you won’t find written in any books. And in this subterranean world, she turns the tables on you, plying you with the attentions you, at times, were forced to lavish upon important women to survive in this brutal environment, ones that helped catapult you to your current status.

Lessons were learned from her brief encounter with Auvryilph and Vynne strives for a balance between calculated attempts to drive up your temperature, to undermine your reservations without appearing to throw herself at you and making sure you believe you control the situation, that you are safe. It’s the latter that has her tongue stilling when she almost asks you to take her to your room. No. She needs to be shackled and not push, lest protective instincts flare to life within you to extinguish the burning need rushing through your blood that has hardened you like stone against her.

Vynne is only guessing about your desires, motivations and personality but that you’ve allowed the encounter to progress this far spurs her onward. It doesn’t appear that you would take satisfaction from throwing her down and raping her or you already would have done so. You are not Izzirahc, not that he contaminated his precious body by sexually assaulting surface trash like her. But you lacked the overt brutality that shaped a barbarian like the Matron’s second son.

Attention to detail is part and parcel of a seduction and Vynne does love detail, all of what is occurring is second nature to her, not that Pashen used herself intentionally against men to get what she wanted. Not until Temptress. Pashen always had been a passionate lover, knowing no shame when it came to giving herself to a lover but it was never calculated, never like this. Finding the faintest of scars on your chin, a gentle kiss is applied. She knows better than to ask you about it, drow are very particular about their appearance and scars are magically healed or removed, only stronger magic prevents some from being forever erased.

You’re craving something or her arms wouldn’t now be linked around your neck, the generous swell of her breasts wouldn’t be plastered against the black expanse of your chest, her lips wouldn’t be becoming familiar with your ear. You’d washed the sweat away while you were gone, bathing while she did and you taste like the heady oil you used liberally over your bare flesh to accentuate the chiseled hardness of your perfect form, making your black skin gleam like polished obsidian.

From your ear, kisses trail downwards until she’s poised once more over the laboring pulse throbbing through your vein. Making a tantalizing sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh, the tease of her fangs are felt once more, arousing herself now as well as you. That bat-like mask draws her fingers upwards, just touching it sends a jolt of remembrance through her in the form of a sweet ache between her legs. That low, seductive laughter sounds in her mind again. Temptress, it chuckles in her ear, the same one she can feel your warm breath fanning. A delightful shiver slides through her body and once again after feeling your anticipation reach new heights, she does not bite you.

Vynne can feel the quiet warning sound in the back of your mind that something is not right here. Her gaze lifts to yours, knowing it’s important to make eye with you at this moment, let you witness the desire smoldering deep within her and just before that warning grows any louder in your head, arms unlink from your neck to embrace you more fully, letting the chains rattle to reassure you that she’s still bound securely. Both arms slide around your waist, one hand travels upwards under your hair, over your spine, the other hand drops lower, forming to the hard curve your ass makes. A subtle push of her wings against wall behind her presses the moist heat building between her legs against the hard muscle atop one of your thighs. It’s then that her face returns to the curve of your neck, using her nose, she nudges under your jaw willing you to expose more of your neck.

This time when she feels your heartbeat climb higher than it’s been yet, there is the prickle of pain as sharp fangs finally sink into you. The first swallow of your vital fluid strengthens her enough that she floods you with a primal ecstasy, sweeping away any lingering hurt caused by the tender bite. A quiver races through her wings as more of your blood enters her system. She’s careful though, reading every minute movement of your body, ready to pull back at the first sign from you.

Sun, Mar 27th – 6:01PM