The Merry Llewd

“The time for tribute is here,” The doe intoned. “You. And you.” She pointed to the librarian, and the carpenter in turn. “You shall be first to give tribute.” She beconned them up onto the stage and positioned one in front and one behind their writhing princess.

Cinny looked up at the librarian without recognition. She had a hunger in her normally pink eyes as they flashed gold. Her nostrils flared and she ran a long, muscular tongue along her lips. Unbidden, the Librarian felt his stallionhood unsheathing and pressing against his ceremonial smock. Tenting the front.

The doe produced a short, cruelly hooked knife and held it up, glinting in the firelight. “With the blade of Lo-aki, I release you to your task.” She cut the strips holding the back of the smock, then grasping the hem of his neck, pulled it down and away. The old stallion was left standing naked on the stage, his member bobbing in front of the princess.

Deep within the apparition, Cinny remained. She felt like she was riding in another’s body, sharing its sensations, but now also its cravings. The sight of the stallions tip inches away, sent a craving through her. She reached out with her tongue, just barely lashing the tip.

The old stallion needed no more encouragement than the thrill of ecstatic pleasure than ran through him at the touch of her smooth tongue. Moving forward, he let her warm lips hungrily wrap around him. She ran her tongue out and over the veins on his underside, stroking him even as she sucked hard, as if to pull him forward by suction alone. Within moments, the stallion was moaning and bucking, his hands automatically going to her head, holding her as he started to fuck her face.

The doe moved to the stallion behind, performing the same operation. His priapic stallionhood twitched with his rapid heartbeat. Throughout the room, every watching stallion felt the same sensation of hardness and stretched tissue, pressing against their smocks.

Then she moved to the princess, bringing the knife down to the base of her neck. There was a collective gasp from the crowd, then the zip of cutting fabric, as the knife travelled from neckline all the way down her back and out to the hem. The fabric fell away, revealing the princess, naked. Pendulous breasts hung down from her chest. Her tail sprang free from the confines of fabric and swung agitatedly, spreading the scent from her wet, winking and clearly heated marehood. There was a sound from the crowd: a combination of a groan and a moan and hum, and something like “ung” as dozens of stallion members strained and ached with the pressure of them.

The carpenter, wasted no time, and stepped forward. He rested the tip of his shaft into the crevice between her round and broad cheeks, pressing it down into her warmth. In response, she bucked her haunches upward, rubbing her plot against his underside enticingly. She growled around the librarian’s shaft. The message was clear. “Get on with it and fuck me!”

The carpenter placed a hand on the top of his shaft pressing it down between her butt cheeks, then pulled back, letting his tip slide down over her plot, making her give another small buck. Then his tip came to her wet pussy lips. They flexed and fluttered against him. Pressing forward, they easily opened and took his tip in. The heat was intense, and as he pushed further, she bucked, and moaned. The walls of her vagina clamped down on his shaft and spasmed and a squirt of hot liquid hit his abdomen and balls.

“My princess is eager,” he muttered. “Well, Let’s give her what she wants.” He thrust forward, hilting himself in her. There was another spasm of contractions around his shaft that threatened to drive him over the edge already.

Forward, the princess had hungrily lapped the salty-slick pre from the Librarians hard stallion hood, and then began sucking hard, probing the pulsing veins on the underside with her tongue. She thrust her head forward, taking him further into her mouth. The sensation sent warm, electric jolts to her nipples and pussy, only reenforcing the pleasure she was getting from behind. Her horn glowed and an umbra of green magic wrapped around the stallions wrists, pulling his hands forward, his body followed and she took his tip into her throat. His hands were pulled to her hard, aching nipples. They were desperate for attention, and he responded with deft and talented strokes and tweaks.

Cladonia watched both stallions with an expert eye. Soon it was clear that the Librarian couldn’t take much more of the hungry mares tight and gulping throat and lapping tongue. The telltale contraction of his swinging balls, the grit of his teeth, the tenseness of his buttocks…. She picked up the discarded smock. Cinnamon’s eyes were rolled back, her tongue lolled out under his shaft as he thrust into her throat. The stallions to either side could see the bulge of his tip moving. At the critical moment he performed the most difficult duty of the night. He pulled out.

Cinny let out a whine and her tongue reached out as he grunted and stallionhood throbbing, fired strand after strand of thick, white seed onto the proffered cloth of the smock. When he was finally done, Cladonia bunched up the wet fabric and held it up for the crowd. “The first tribute of the night.” Ceremonially, she walked to the edge of the stage, and dropped it into an open barrel, positioned to collect the tributes.

The carpenter’s time quickly approached. His fingers dug into her flanks as he gripped her thick thighs and thrust deep inside her. His tip swelled and his balls contracted. Cinnamon let out a long, deep “Oh...!” As another wave of pleasure ran through her. She could feel his approach and craved the feel of his hot cum, but at the last moment, came denial. The smock was presented and he pulled out at the last moment. He made a few more strokes with his hand to complete his transition to a moaning, clenching fountain. The soiled fabric joined the other in the barrel.