The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Varisia Primfana]

Varisia goes still, eyes widening and her breath sucking in with a quick, sharp inhalation. "...that was a poor choice, little bitch," she says so very, very softly. The hand around her throat tightens even more, her thumb shifting slightly so it's pressing against the artery. Within seconds, Coquette finds herself feeling dizzy and lightheaded as the other merikos drow cuts the blood flow by a good third. Her other hand balls into a fist, then slams into Coquette's unprotected gut, driving the wind out of her. Relentless, she moves over hand over and presses two fingers into her side. It feels almost good for a few seconds, a sharp pressure forcing the straining muscle there to relax, but then a line of fire seems to flow out from the point all the way down her leg and then into arm.

[Coquette Blacquin]

She loses her iron will, but she hasn't the air to scream, mouth opening in silence. She struggles weakly, soon falling limp, head spinning as she's overwhelmed with pain. The candles in the room gutter and dim, the room soon becoming dark -- not that it stops Varisia one bit.

[Varisia Primfana]

"See?" Varisia murmurs softly, lips just barely brushing against Coquette's. "You're a monster too." The searing pain suddenly vanishes, the aching relief a strange prelude to the feeling of soft, skilled fingers tracing the edges of her cleft. Prickles of cool heat mix with the gentle scrape of nail and slick pressure of fingertip. "Nice and wet already, mmh? Good girl." It's not a lie, but it's not really true; Coquette is damp, her confused and conflicted body going that far, but 'damp' is a bit much. At least before Varisia's current ministrations anyway.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Good girl. Something about her tone, something about her touch... she can't remember, but she knows this feeling. She lets out another startled mewling noise, a pretty whimper as her muscles tense. 

[Varisia Primfana]

A flare of intense need takes Varisia's breath away at the sound. "Oh my lovely pet, my good girl." Varisia closes that last shavings of an inch to capture Coquette's lips. "My wife." Fingers skim inside her, top to bottom to top again, before taking her nub firmly in grasp. Teeth nip and tug on the younger woman's lower lip even as the hand around her throat squeezes and relaxes in am unsteady rhythm. "Mine."

[Coquette Blacquin]

She lets out a low moan of protest, a whimper more than a firm negation, even as her traitorous body sends shivers of pleasure straight from her cunt to her gut. She can't think, so she doesn't; her words become a string of 'please no' and wordless whimpers inside, low moans and whines outside. Her body begins to writhe beneath Varisia's ministrations, waves of pleasure blending with the pervasive fear. 

[Varisia Primfana]

"There we go, just let go," Varisia whispers as she trails kisses and nips across Coquette's face, her lips, her neck. All the while, her hands keep up their devilish work. Soon enough, Varisia is working two fingers into her wife's cunt, her thumb slowly grinding against Ciren's flower bud. The older drow is soaking wet at this point, straddling Coquette's leg so she can grind herself against the rough fabric of the still partially on dress.

After a while, tiny spasms and shudders reveal to the long practiced seductress that the first peak is soon to be conquered. The choking eases off even as the pace of her other hand increases, Varisia taking a firm grip of on the tip of Coquette's right ear with her teeth, tugging and flicking it with her tongue. "I want you to say it. Say what you are, what you are to me." Say it, my wife, my lovely little she-wolf. Tell me that you are mine. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

"yours, your pet, your cat," she whimpers, desperate to get away from the sensation she feels rising in her gut. Some part of her pleads, that if she can just avoid this, just avoid this peak, this feeling, she can consider herself unsoiled -- but then Varisia brings her to her peak and she screams out, shuddering and gasping beneath her Drow wife. 

[Varisia Primfana]

At those words, Varisia finds herself peaking as well. She clamps her thighs tightly around Coquette's leg and writhes, back arching, as she groans through clamped teeth. The mark she leaves on the side of Coquette's neck will remain there, clearly defined and visible, for weeks. She drapes herself across the smaller woman bonelessly as she makes sure they both ring every last aftershock and crest possible from their climaxes. Hands still moving, gripping, possessing, she licks her way from bloody bite mark to Coquette's lips. "Mine," she murmurs, kissing her wife tenderly.

'Cat?' Varisia mulls that over as she wallows in the afterglow. No. No, that's not right. "Mine, my pet, my little bitch. My she-wolf," she says in a low, dark voice, staring deep into Coquette's eyes. "You're my little bitch." A featherlight kiss on mouth, nose and brow. "Say it. Mean it."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I'm your little bitch," she whispers, and every line of her body is submissive, defeated. 

[Varisia Primfana]

A deep, satisfied moan of pleasure is poured into Coquette's mouth as her wife shudders against her once more. "Good girl," she gasps out, fingers beginning to pump in and out of Coquette's cunt again. "That's a good girl. See? I told you I'd make sure you enjoyed tonight. But we're not done, not by half." She kisses her, deep and hard, then pulls back when she can't go a second longer without air.

"I'm going to fuck you over and over. I'm going to touch every last inch of you, taste every single one of your holes. I'm going to break you apart with pleasure and hold you in place with pain. And then I'm going to teach my little bitch how to repay your Mistress for the honor." A low, throaty chuckle. "And that'll be just tonight. Tomorrow? Tomorrow night, I start to really show you what kind of fun we can have. Oh my sweet, fiery wife, I'm going to ruin you for men and elves alike forever and you're going to thank me for it."

[Coquette Blacquin]

Today they don't have time for nearly so much activity. Coquette is pushed upside-down to the leather armchair in the reading nook, her wrists held at her waist, her mouth busy on Varisia's cunt when the fluffy black tomcat leaps onto her lap, quite ruining the mood. Once again, Varisia threatens to have him flayed, but they both know she doesn't mean it, and anyway it's almost time for tea with the girls, so they have to stop their activities. 

"Where did  you meet our new acquisition before?" wonders Coquette, as she washes her face clean with a soft towel and a basin Iron Bull's fetched for her. 

[Varisia Primfana]

Still naked, Varisia absently replies, "Toukami's Jintsu, remember?" Which is where her wife had just returned from, so like as not she's too busy terrifying poor Tommance with the weight of a killer's glare. The feline is pressed up against a window, fur fluffed and eyes wide with panic, as he stares back at Varisai with every expectation that he'll be eaten if he loses track of her for a second. 

A bit unusual really; Coquette has learned that Varisia has a murderous temper that can lead her into taking revenge to extraordinary lengths. But.... on the other hand, she's also seen that Varisia has incredible control over that temper. Despite great provocation, she's never seen her wife lose that control in during business or 'at work.' It only comes out when her family is threatened or endangered and never towards them; which has thankfully included Coquette for over a decade now. So for her to be showing this much heat...

[Coquette Blacquin]

"That's not what I asked," she laughs, drying her face and moving to wrap her arms around her wife from behind. "I asked where you met Zevran before."

[Varisia Primfana]

Varisia had leaned back against her wife at first touch, but stiffened, just for a second, on the name. "Ah." A pause. "Beyond the Outlands," she finally replies tone terse but unheated. "An oasis citadel in the Sunscar Desert run by..." Her body tenses again and the wary Coquette makes note of how her wife's hands clench briefly. "one of the most unpleasant examples of his kind, be that kind ifrit, male or Katian."