Chapter 89 Nope.

Chapter 89: 89 Nope.

Oh, you thought we were fading to black? Nope.

I should probably set the scene, because what happened next deserves proper context and I want to make sure I’m giving it the gravitas it earned.

Four women more or less just collectively decided that my body was a common good, and they were marching me up the stairs like a prisoner of war to a very sexy execution—sexecution?

Elsa had my right arm in a death grip. Ayra had my left, and her tail thumped against every banister on the way up.

Clementine brought up the rear, and I could feel her eyes boring into the back of my head the whole way up. Juniper trailed awkwardly behind everyone, twenty-plus feet of serpent tail whispering up the staircase step by awkward step.

Well, not literally stepping, because, you know, big snake booty.

The three-million-dollar Russian mattress dominated the bedroom like it always did.

"Whoa, this is a big-ass fuckin’ bed, dude," Clementine rather astutely pointed out.

I smiled back at her. "Ah! First time? I suppose it is for you. Get ready for the most comfortable face-riding session of your life, then."

She narrowed her eyes and looked at my chin. "Not with that stubble."

"Alright, my handsome champion," Elsa said, planting both tiny hands on my chest and shoving me backward onto the bed in question. I bounced twice, smiling dumbly. "Lie back and allow your maidens to worship you properly. I shall be in charge, obviously, because, as First Maiden, I love you the most." She beamed at me sweetly.

"Worship is a strong word," I started.

"It is the most precise word I can conjure up based on the treatment I expect to give you." She was already pulling her nightgown over her head, and whatever clever thing I was about to say died halfway to my mouth.

Elsa naked was one of those sights that went straight to whatever caveman part of your brain was responsible for building fertility shrines.

Five feet of nothing, proportioned like an anime character who’d been drawn by someone with very based ideas about the female form, porcelain skin that literally glowed faintly from her elven lineage, and piercing blue eyes looking down at me like I was a seven-course meal and she’d been on a hunger strike.

Also, her womb tattoo was glowing so bright it could have guided ships to harbor.

Ayra didn’t wait for an invitation. She shed her outfit in about 1.56 seconds flat, which would be impressive but she never wore underwear anyway. Her golden-brown ears shot straight up, her tail hit full helicopter, and those amber eyes went wide and locked on me like a retriever who just heard someone open a cheese wrapper. Her collar glinted against her tan skin, silver nipple piercings drawing my eyes as always, and that perfect heart-shaped rear was soon slightly angled in my general direction out of what I could only assume was muscle memory.

"Master, I am ready to serve you! And if my service is found wanting, I shall endure whatever cruel punishment you see fit to inflict upon my juicy posterior! Oh, how I despise your punishments, you brute! Pah-tooey!" She spat at the carpet for emphasis, then immediately looked at me with those big eyes like she was hoping I’d take her up on it. Her tail was going so fast it was a blur.

Summoning my best Scorpion from Mortal Kombat, I growled, "Ayra, get over here."

She made a noise that was half-bark, half-squeal and launched herself onto the bed.

Juniper stayed near the doorway, arms folded beneath her chest, which did cool stuff to her already cool titties. Those absolutely oppressive, choke-you-to-death honkin’ gazongas were straining against her top like—you know what? I am at a loss for words. You just have to trust me on this one.

Anyway, she hadn’t undressed, but her womb tattoo was pulsing a steady ruby red through the fabric, and her forked tongue darted out to wet her lips once. That piqued my interest.

As for Clementine, she’d parked herself against the wall by the window, still fully clothed in my stolen hoodie and basketball shorts with her arms crossed and horse tail swishing slowly. Her dark eyes tried to keep up with everything happening in the room, maybe looking for her moment to shine.

"I’ll just observe for now," she announced. "Don’t mind me."

"Suit yourself, horse-wench," Elsa said dismissively, already positioning herself between my legs. She tugged my shorts down with a yank that communicated ownership more than urgency. Grey 2: King Dong sprang free and stood at full mast, and Elsa’s eyes went wide for just a second before she composed herself and lifted her chin. "The magnificence of your manly pillar always inspires."

"Th-thanks?"

Ayra dropped to her knees beside Elsa at the edge of the bed, and the two of them stared at my dick like it was the Ark of the Covenant.

"I shall begin," Elsa declared, running one fingertip along the underside of my shaft with a sexy little smile. "First Maiden privileges. Don’t look at me like that, it’s only fair."

"But Princess!" Ayra’s tail was wagging so hard the nightstand lamp was doing a little dance. "Surely the preparation of the Champion’s member is beneath your royal station! Allow me to handle the menial groundwork so that you may arrive to a properly warmed instrument!"

Elsa tilted her head and actually considered it. "You know what, that’s a good point. Fine. You may warm him up for me, but don’t take too long."

"Yes, Your Highness! Thank you, Your Highness!" Ayra beamed like she’d just been handed the keys to a tennis ball factory—that’s a dog joke—and wrapped both hands around my shaft before taking me into her mouth with zero hesitation. Her technique was eager, sloppy, and punctuated by happy little moans that vibrated through my entire lower body.

"Mmm! Yes, Master. So tasty!" she boasted as her tail wagged her.

Elsa watched from inches away, head tilted, studying Ayra’s technique carefully. "More tongue, Ayra. You’re not licking an ice cream cone. You’re pleasuring the love of our lives. Our champion deserves better."

"I–I’m okay with what’s going on already," I insisted with a thumbs up.

For a brief instant I made awkward eye contact with Clementine, who looked at me when I said that with such performative disdain I almost came from the power of it.