In the aftermath of her orgasm, world utterly rearranged, Lily giggles and then frets, mind wild.
“That was- Kara- Gods, will we not be punished?”
Kara, irritated that she has not levelled up again and frankly desperate to cum at this stage, mutters: “Sayla will protect us,” as she whirls Lily around and yanks her perfect ass up.
She is aware that she should warm Lily up before she plunges directly into the tight hole, but she’s so desperate that it’s all she can do to slide her length across Lily’s opening, lubricating it, and then swirling a single, teasing circle before her body takes over and she’s burying herself deep inside her new disciple.
Lily gasps — Kara has no idea if she’s going to object, so, to preclude the possibility, she wraps a hand tightly around Lily’s mouth and whispers: “take it like a good girl, ok?” — because, quite frankly, Kara has never felt anything better than this and doesn’t think she ever will.
To her pleasure, Lily nods eagerly, and Kara thrusts even deeper, producing an adorable whimper of pain. There’s the sound of something heavy and soft dropping to the ground, a muffled thud. Kara doesn’t so much as swivel an ear towards the noise.
“Liar!” comes Dalia’s horrified voice from behind them. “Whore!”
This makes Kara turn her head. Dalia stands on the ladder, red hair loose about her shoulders, wearing a pretty blue frock. Kara can’t bring herself to stop her thrusts; Lily, to her credit, stays quiet save for tiny grunts of pain at the size currently filling her.
“C’mon; this doesn’t mean I don’t like you,” tries Kara.
This, clearly, is not satisfactory, and Dalia quits the barn crying “you will both be burned as heretics!”
This, finally, forces Kara to pull out of the perfect, tight warmth with a moan of absolute torment. When Lily moves to follow her down the ladder, Kara says, “No! Wait here. Kneel.” Lily obeys immediately as her new love pursues the beautiful farmer, naked.
Kara, for her part, is not particularly worried, owing to the many pleasure chemicals flooding her brain right now as well as her arrogance, which borders on delusion. Simply, she thinks she can fuck Dalia into place; maybe leave here with two new disciples instead of one. She does not know of the animosity that exists already between the two potential followers, does not know that Dalia has long been looking for an opportunity to rid herself of the beautiful young farmhand, does not know that Dalia has spent the last half hour fancying herself in love.
She also does not know that Dalia has armed herself with a pitchfork, a weapon that she wields wildly as Kara jumps off the ladder and stumbles backward in her bare feet, claws digging into the muck.
“Settle, sweetling. What’s a pretty lady like you got to be so upset about? There’s plenty of love to go around.”
“Demon woman! You witched me; but now I see clearly! You will be denied your place in the cycle for this; you will burn in Hel!” She slices the pitchfork viciously toward Kara, who yelps in pain as the filthy metal slices her arm.
“Gods, woman, calm yourself! You scratched me.”
“Scratched! Vile fiend, I would see you burn! I would see you die!”
“Wake your husband, then.”
“I shall!”
“And will you refute what I have to tell him? You, in the barn with me, in that pretty blue dress, at this hour?”
“The- the master is not home,” comes Lily’s soft voice from the loft above. “He is gone to town to sell our harvest, and won’t be back ‘til morning.”
Kara tilts her head and smiles. The physical effect this has on Dalia is a horror to the furious redhead, and she slashes the pitchfork brutally toward Kara, who just manages to skirt out of the way in time, grabbing the handle and redirecting her momentum so that Dalia is knocked from her feet. In an instant, Kara is standing over her, pitchfork pointed down at the farmer’s throat, cock hard. Dalia hisses.
“If I kill you now,” says Kara, with a head tilt, “will you go to Hel for your transgressions?”
“Please,” comes Lily’s sweet voice again from above, in the hayloft, “do not!”
“Demon’s whore!” cries Dalia, from the ground, “I do not need you to speak for me!”
Kara jolts the pitchfork, leaving a shallow scratch across the woman’s face. “That’s not very nice of you. She hasn’t done anything that you wouldn’t do, has she?” Dalia stares up in defiance, hatred burning in her dark eyes. “I think you ought to apologise. How can you make it up to her?”
“I will see her burn!”
“You will give her your dress.” Kara sinks her weight into the pitchfork, so that the points rest firm against Dalia’s throat, threatening to break skin. “Now. Take it off.” She relieves the pressure just enough so that the woman, anger tinged by genuine fear now, wiggles out of her frock, which is no doubt filthy from her place lying in the muck, but which is still very pretty and practical — much better than the sack which seems to be Lily’s only garment.
Kara smiles slightly at the hickeys colouring Dalia’s throat in her underclothes, deep and blue-ish purple. Dalia throws the dress at Kara with hatred, and she catches it — more desperate than she’s ever been in her life, enough to make her stupid, and to make navigating this situation somehow even more tricky.
“I know it’s a little awkward now,” says Kara, still pointing the pitchfork at Dalia’s throat, “but you can still come away with us, if you like. We can forget all about this.”
“Never.”
“Damn shame,” says Kara, removing the pitchfork with a heft that brings it over her shoulder. She’s too fucking sentimental, just can’t kill a woman, especially not one that she’s been inside of. “Go on,” she says, nodding toward the barn door, “do what you gotta do.”
With a look of genuine uncertainty for the first time since she entered the barn, Dalia stumbles to her feet and runs toward the farmhouse. Kara climbs the ladder to the loft, dragging the pitchfork behind her to preclude its use as a weapon against her.
Lily, still kneeling like a good girl despite her racing heart, says, “She will be going to alert the others, for certain! We must go n- mmph,” and is cut off by Kara’s cock plunging into her throat, the first and most easily available hole she can see.
And Gods, Lily’s tight throat feels good, so good, and despite it all today has been a good day. A damn good day. Kara grabs the back of Lily’s hair as she thrusts; Lily, who is currently gagging around the huge length, eyes watering, is unable to do anything but stare up in wonder at the gorgeous, strong woman currently using her. Even as talking and the banging of doors in the farmhouse warns her that Dalia has told her story, Lily has never felt safer in her life. There’s just something about Kara, some supernatural energy to go along with her supernatural beauty, that makes Lily feel more taken care of than she ever has in her life.
It’ll all be okay, she thinks, throat full as doors slam open and lanternlight explodes out of the farmhouse and across the field. Kara’s in charge. It’ll all be fine.
The cat girl, mind barely capable of processing any data except the complete bliss of Lily’s tight throat, cums with a moan that sends lights dancing across the young farmhand’s brain.
Lily is coughing and gagging, but she manages to stumble along after Kara as she pulls her down the ladder. Kara doesn’t forget her new fur cloak, or the dress — she even grabs the blankets that Lily brought for her. Finally, as she races out of the barn, clawed hand wrapped tight around Lily’s wrist, the two of them weighed down by their meagre loot, Kara grabs Dalia’s dropped knapsack. A care package perhaps? They are pursued into the night by lanternlight and shouting; two wild, naked women, disappearing into the forest.