Rescue Inverted
by hollowjacks
Cyrn had Ad’ane chained to her throne by the neck. Most of the time, she served mainly as a display, and as a reminder to others who might try and break into her stronghold in the Barrow Fens. After all, Ad’ane was renowned for her stealth and cunning, or had been before she was so thoroughly broken. Now, instead of roaming the forests, she knelt in what could only generously be called clothes, thin wisps of fabric that only served to highlight her breasts and did nothing to hide her easily excited cock.
She also made for good stress relief.
When Apollo Lightseeker stormed the throne room, what he hadn’t expected to find was his old companion kneeling between the vasra’s legs, her mouth eagerly wrapped around her cock. He had come alone, certain in the power of his vows to keep him safe.
Now, he wasn’t so sure. Cyrn Minddancer radiated power, from her burning black-and-red eyes, to the energy that seemed to flicker just under the surface of her pale blue skin.
“I made the right choice, dismissing my guards,” Cyrn said in a tone of cold arrogance. Grabbing Ad’ane by the hair, she pulled the elf off her cock and pushed her forward. Now on her hands and knees, Apollo could easily see her vacant, blissed-out expression. “Have you come to rescue this?”
She gestured towards Ad’ane, who had rocked backwards on her knees in silent anticipation.
Apollo opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He could see the thin chain connecting the collar around Ad’ane’s neck to Cyrn’s throne. It looked thin enough that Ad’ane should’ve been able to easily break it. That she hadn’t spoke volumes Apollo didn’t want to read.
“I know your type,” Cyrn continued. “You train to resist temptation. Were I to offer you an endless supply of riches, or the use of your friend’s body, you would refuse.” She smiled.
Apollo was barely able to look away. He should, if he was smart, turn and run. They all had an idea of what sort of fiend Cyrn was, but this was confirmation. If he returned with a larger, more prepared party, armed with the right spells, they might be able to succeed.
Instead, he took a step forward, and dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword.
“I would,” he said. “It’s never worth it.”
“Then answer one question for me,” Cyrn said. “Why don’t you attack?” She yanked on Ad’ane’s chain. The elf scrambled to her feet, staring intently at her erstwhile rescuer.
Apollo shook his head, trying to clear it. Finally drawing his weapon, he ignored his now-standing friend and tried to rush the throne, confident in his ability to at least get one good hit off, or maybe break the chain.
The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, his sword out of reach, Ad’ane straddling his bare hips. Her dick, already half-hard, drew his attention as much as her breasts, which seemed to be bigger than what he remembered.
“What should I do with him?” she asked, the first words she’d spoken since Apollo had entered the room.
Apollo had the feeling that she was speaking out loud entirely for his benefit.
He tried to reach for his sword, but Ad’ane hand closed over his wrist, pinning it at his side as she leaned over him.
“What he wants,” Cyrn answered. Apollo’s view of her was blocked by Ad’ane’s body, but he didn’t need to see her to know that she was watching them intently. This was a show for her benefit.
“You don’t know what I want,” Apollo protested. “There’s nothing you can offer--”
“She’s not offering,” Ad’ane interrupted. She stuck her knee between his legs. They parted before he realized what he was doing.
“Temptation implies a bargain,” Cyrn said. “Or that I can only do what I want with your permission.”
Apollo whimpered as Ad’ane wrapped her hand around the base of his cock.
When had he lost his armor? This, even more than Ad’ane’s behavior, felt like a flagrant display of the demon’s abilities. Had he voluntarily removed it and could no longer remember doing so? Had she simply made it disappear?
Ad’ane raised herself from her seated position, and used her hand to guide Apollo’s cock inside her ass. Any last thoughts vanished from his mind as she settled herself on top of him, her own cock resting against his stomach.
He met her eyes, and he could see Cyrn’s fire burning inside them.
She let go of his wrist. Instead of trying to push her off, he grabbed her hips, meeting each of her thrusts with his own. He had lost the moment he entered Cyrn’s throne room, just as Ad’ane had lost before him.
A wave of pleasure slammed into his mind, along a connection he had not even realized Cyrn had built. The rhythm of his hips stuttered; Ad’ane’s response was even more intense. She screamed, an almost inhuman sound of pleasure, and came all over Apollo’s chest.
She clenched down on him, and he was lost, the last of his resistance vanishing with each thrust inside her.
Ad’ane stood up. In his daze, Apollo expected her to simply leave him there, but instead she offered him a hand.
He took it without thinking.
Ad’ane led him to the throne, where Cyrn looked over them both with an appraising expression. “Good,” she said, relief flooding Apollo’s body at her approval.
He knelt on the opposite side of the throne to Ad’ane place. It felt good, kneeling there. He was sure that his mistress would have something for him to do, eventually, but for now all that mattered was being in her presence, where he belonged.
“Good boy,” Cyrn repeated. “You already know your place.”