Valentino's fingers flew across the stack of bills with the precision of a man conducting a symphony of his own making, each note a crisp denomination that sang with the promise of profit.
"12156 made from Akane's pussy. 12157 made from Akane's pussy."
The money from Akane's first night on the corners had been exceptional—better than he'd anticipated, which only meant one thing: the market was hungry for exactly what she offered. Fresh. Desperate. Broken.
He reclined in his chair, the crimson velvet molding around his form like it had been designed specifically for his body. His upper left hand continued counting while his upper right held a long cigarette holder, smoke curling in lazy spirals that caught the afternoon light filtering through the heart-shaped windows. His lower hands were occupied with more pleasurable pursuits—one massaging his inner thigh while the other adjusted his already-hardening cock through the fabric of his white pants.
"12158 made from Akane's pussy. 12159 made from Akane's pussy."
Valentino's fingers flew across the stack of bills with the precision of a man conducting a symphony of his own making, each note a crisp denomination that sang with the promise of profit.
"12160 made from Akane's pussy and I still has another 30 stacks to go." Valentino sang out.
The money from Akane's first night on the corners had been exceptional—better than he'd anticipated, which only meant one thing: the market was hungry for exactly what she offered. Fresh. Desperate. Broken.
He reclined in his chair, the crimson velvet molding around his form like it had been designed specifically for his body. His upper left hand continued counting while his upper right held a long cigarette holder, smoke curling in lazy spirals that caught the afternoon light filtering through the heart-shaped windows. His lower hands were occupied with more pleasurable pursuits—one massaging his inner thigh while the other adjusted his already-hardening cock through the fabric of his white pants.
"12161 made from—"
The knock on his office door came soft but confident. Valentino didn't look up from his counting, though his antennae twitched in recognition of the presence on the other side.
"Come in, Voxxy."
The door swung inward, and the television-headed demon stepped through, his flatscreen face displaying that sharp-toothed grin that Valentino had come to recognize as genuine pleasure. Electricity crackled between Vox's fingers, power cables trailing behind him like serpents as he moved across the office.
"Val, my man," Vox's voice carried that electronic warmth, the kind that suggested he'd had a successful day in his own right. "We need to talk about expansion metrics and—"
Valentino set down the bills he'd been counting and looked up, flashing his golden fang in a welcoming smile. "Voxxy! Perfect timing, amigo. Look at these numbers." He gestured expansively at the money spread across his desk. "Akane's pulling in more than I projected. The demand is insatiable. I'm telling you, this grimoire is a fucking goldmine."
"I know," Vox said, moving closer. "That's actually what I came to discuss."
Something in the television demon's tone made Valentino's antennae twitch. He watched as Vox raised one hand, and his screen flickered to life with imagery—footage of what appeared to be amateur pornography. The production quality was garbage, the lighting atrocious, the camera work shaky at best.
But the subject matter made Valentino's blood pressure spike.
The performer on screen was a sinner—clearly demonic, with horns and a tail—but styled to look human. Makeup covered the infernal features. Contact lenses hid the unnatural eye color. The costume was cheap, some kind of schoolgirl outfit that screamed mass-production rather than careful design.
And the demon was fucking another sinner dressed in equally terrible human cosplay.
"What the fuck is this?" Valentino's voice dropped to something dangerous, something cold. The cigarette holder froze halfway to his lips.
"Copycat content," Vox said, his screen flickering through several more examples. Each one showed different sinners—all costumed, all attempting to mimic the aesthetic of Valentino's human performers. "Started popping up in the Lust Ring about two days ago. Amateur producers saw your success with Yoruichi and Luna and decided to cash in on the trend."
Valentino's grip tightened on his cigarette holder until the metal groaned. His upper hands clenched into fists while his lower ones pressed flat against his desk, fingers digging into the polished wood hard enough to leave marks.
"Those fucking—" The words emerged as a snarl. "Those goddamn parasites! How DARE they rip off my work!"
He surged to his feet, all four arms spreading wide in a gesture of pure rage. His wings unfurled completely, casting shadows across the entire office as he began to pace. The carefully counted bills scattered across his desk, forgotten in the face of this violation.
"I spend time, effort, resources—I use a fucking dimensional grimoire to source genuine talent from other realms—and these bottom-feeding hacks think they can just slap some makeup on a sinner and call it the same thing?" Valentino's voice rose with each word, his accent thickening as fury overtook him. "This is VVV property! This is MY innovation! MY vision! MY fucking empire!"
Vox's screen displayed that understanding expression, his digital features arranged into something sympathetic. "Exactly what I thought you'd say. That's why I came to you immediately."
"Immediately?" Valentino spun to face him, smoke pouring from between his teeth. "This has been going on for two days and you're just NOW telling me?"
"I wanted to verify the scope first," Vox said, electricity crackling with slight defensiveness. "Make sure it wasn't just one or two idiots before I brought it to your attention, so calm the FUCK down." Vox voice went static for a moment before calming down. "Now this is spreading Val and fast. The concept is too easy to replicate with local talent."
Valentino's hands clenched and unclenched, his claws scraping against his palms. The rage bubbled in his chest like acid, burning through any semblance of the earlier satisfaction he'd felt counting Akane's earnings. Those parasites were trying to steal his thunder, trying to profit off his genius without putting in any of the actual work.
"They can't do this," he said, his voice dropping back to that dangerous quiet. "This is VVV territory. This is OUR thing. Our innovation. Our market dominance."
"Agreed." Vox's screen brightened, his grin widening. "Which is why you need to stay ahead of them. Keep producing content they can't replicate. Keep bringing in talent that's genuinely from other dimensions, not just sinners in costumes."
Valentino was already moving before Vox finished speaking. His lower hands grabbed the grimoire from where it sat on his desk while his upper hands gestured sharply at the empty space in the center of his office. The book fell open in his grip, pages flipping rapidly as arcane symbols began to glow with that familiar cerise light.
"Ahead of them?" Valentino's grin returned, sharp and vicious and full of promise. "Voxxy, I'm not just going to stay ahead. I'm going to leave them so far behind they'll forget they ever tried to compete."
"Val, what are you—"
The portal tore open with a sound like reality screaming. Purple and pink light spilled across the office floor, casting writhing shadows on the walls as the dimensional gateway stabilized into a swirling vortex of energy. The grimoire pulsed in Valentino's hands, hot and eager, feeding him coordinates to realms he hadn't yet explored.
"You think human is good?" Valentino's laugh echoed through the office, manic and triumphant. "I've got something even better than human, amorcito."
He stepped toward the portal, his wings spreading wider as anticipation thrummed through every nerve. The copycat producers could play dress-up with sinners all they wanted. Let them waste their time and money on cheap imitations. Valentino had access to infinite dimensions, infinite possibilities, infinite talent that those bottom-feeders could never hope to match.
"Where are you going?" Vox called after him.
Valentino paused at the edge of the portal, glancing back over his shoulder with that golden fang glinting in the otherworldly light. His eyes glowed cerise with barely contained excitement, smoke curling from his lips in eager spirals.
"Shopping," he purred. "And when I come back, those parasites are going to realize exactly why you don't fuck with Valentino's empire."
The portal spat Valentino out onto soft grass that whispered beneath his heels. He straightened immediately, all four hands adjusting his coat while his eyes scanned the unfamiliar landscape. Rolling hills stretched in every direction, dotted with clusters of trees that swayed in a gentle breeze. The air tasted clean—too clean, lacking the sulfur and smoke that permeated every breath in Hell.
A dirt road cut through the pastoral scene about fifty yards to his left, and beyond that, he could make out the peaked roofs of what looked like a small village. Medieval architecture. Thatched roofs. Wooden construction. His antennae twitched as he processed the information, cataloging details that screamed fantasy setting.
Perfect.
Movement caught his attention. He turned his head and spotted a figure emerging from the tree line about a hundred yards away. Small. Slender. Walking with the kind of careful, measured steps that suggested someone deep in thought.
Valentino's grin widened as the figure drew closer and details became clearer.
A girl—no, young woman—with pale white hair that fell to her shoulders in a sleek curtain. Even from this distance, he could see the delicate structure of her face, the way sunlight caught on skin so pale it almost seemed to glow. She wore practical clothing—some kind of mage's robe in earth tones that suggested function over fashion.
Valentino moved.
He crossed the distance with predatory silence, his footfalls muted by the grass beneath his heels. The girl remained focused on whatever occupied her thoughts, oblivious to his approach. Her pale red eyes stared at some point in the middle distance, and as he drew closer, Valentino could see the slightly pointed tips of her ears peeking through that white hair.
Half-elf.
Even better.
Valentino's lungs filled with air. The transformation happened automatically now, his body converting oxygen into something far more potent. Pink smoke began curling from between his teeth, sweet and cloying, rolling out in concentrated streams that moved with purpose through the afternoon air.
The girl's head started to turn—some instinct warning her—but the smoke reached her first.
It wrapped around her face like silk, seeping into her nostrils with each breath. Valentino watched her body go rigid, watched those pale red eyes widen in shock as the hypnotic properties flooded her system. Her lips parted, maybe to call out, maybe to question, but the smoke poured into her mouth and cut off whatever sound she might have made.
He stepped closer, close enough to see the exact moment the resistance drained from her frame. Her shoulders relaxed. Her hands, which had been reaching for something at her belt, fell back to her sides. Those unusual eyes went glassy and unfocused, staring straight ahead at nothing.
Valentino circled her slowly, taking in every detail. Petite frame, maybe five-foot-three at most. Slender build but not fragile—there was muscle definition in her arms and legs that suggested physical training. The mage robes hung loosely on her body, concealing her figure, but he could see enough to know she'd photograph well once properly dressed.
Her face held that perfect combination of youthful innocence and otherworldly beauty. High cheekbones. Small nose. Lips that formed a natural pout even in her current slack-jawed state. And that hair—pure white, completely natural, the kind of exotic coloring that would drive Hell's demons absolutely fucking wild.
He moved behind her and placed one hand on her shoulder. She didn't react, didn't flinch, remained perfectly still under his touch like a doll waiting to be posed.
The grimoire pulsed in his other hand, responding to his intent. The portal tore open in front of them with that familiar screaming sound, purple and pink light spilling across the grass. Valentino guided the girl forward with gentle pressure on her shoulder, steering her toward the swirling vortex.
She walked without resistance, her steps mechanical and obedient. The smoke continued to pour from Valentino's mouth in steady streams, keeping her docile, keeping her pliant, keeping her exactly where he needed her.
They stepped through together.
The portal deposited them directly into the studio. Hell's air hit his lungs—familiar sulfur and smoke that tasted like home. Valentino guided the half-elf girl across the polished floor, his heels clicking with each step while she moved silently beside him, still trapped in that hypnotic haze.
The set crew had already started preparing based on his earlier instructions. The transformation of Studio 3 into a forest environment was well underway—artificial trees with realistic bark, moss-covered rocks scattered strategically, hanging vines that looked genuine enough to fool most observers. Filtered green lighting created the illusion of sunlight through a canopy.
But it needed his touch. His vision.
Valentino spent the next hour micromanaging every detail. The placement of each tree. The density of the undergrowth. The specific shade of green in the lighting filters. Soon it was perfect!
He gestured to the crew. "Everyone clear except essential personnel. Camera operators, lighting, sound—the rest of you, out."
The unnecessary bodies filtered through the studio door. Valentino positioned himself behind the main camera, his multiple hands already itching to capture what he'd created. The male talent—some muscular demon Valentino had worked with before, reliable if unimaginative—stood at his mark near the edge of the set.
Valentino's grin stretched wide. "Lights. Camera. Action."
—————————————————————————————————————————————————
The man stumbled through the dense forest, branches catching at his clothes and scratching exposed skin. Sweat dripped down his face despite the cool air beneath the canopy. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he pushed through another wall of undergrowth, only to find more trees stretching endlessly ahead.
"This is impossible," he muttered, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "I've been walking for hours. Days, maybe. There's no end to this place."
He staggered to the base of a large tree and let his body slide down the trunk until he sat on the moss-covered ground. His head fell back against the bark, eyes closing in exhaustion and defeat.
"I'm never getting out of this forest." The words came out flat, resigned. "I'm going to die here. Lost and alone in this endless—"
"I can help you get out."
The voice drifted through the air like wind through leaves—soft, gentle, carrying an otherworldly quality that made him question whether he'd actually heard it. His eyes snapped open, head turning to scan the surrounding trees.
"Who's there?"
Movement caught his attention. A figure emerged from behind a massive oak, stepping into the dappled sunlight that filtered through the canopy.
The woman—girl?—moved with fluid grace that suggested she belonged in this forest far more than he did. Her pale white hair caught the light, seeming to glow against the deep greens surrounding her. But it was her body that made his breath catch.
Leaves covered her breasts, the natural materials arranged in overlapping patterns that barely concealed the pale flesh beneath. He could see the curve of each small mound, could make out the shadow of her nipples pressing against the thin vegetation. Vines wrapped around her torso like living jewelry, their dark green contrasting beautifully with her luminescent skin. The thick cords crossed between her breasts, emphasizing their shape, then circled her narrow waist before continuing downward.
More leaves formed a skirt that hung low on her hips, but the coverage was minimal. Each piece of vegetation had been positioned to hide just enough—he could see the curve of her hip bones, the flat plane of her stomach, the suggestion of what lay at the apex of her thighs where the leaves ended. The vines spiraled down her legs, wrapping around pale thighs that looked impossibly smooth.
She took another step closer, and the movement made everything shift. The leaves rustled against each other, gaps appearing and closing, offering glimpses of bare skin beneath. The vines tightened and relaxed with her breathing, drawing his eyes to follow their path across her body.
Her face held an ethereal quality—large pale red eyes that seemed to look through him rather than at him, high cheekbones, lips curved in a gentle smile. Small flowers were woven through her white hair, and her slightly pointed ears peeked through the strands.
"You're lost."
The man's eyes fixed on those pointed ears, and understanding crashed through his exhausted mind. The stories. The legends. The forest people.
"You're... you're an elf." The words tumbled out before he could stop them. His body tensed despite the bone-deep exhaustion weighing down his limbs.
She tilted her head slightly, that gentle smile never wavering. "Half-elf." Her voice carried the same soft quality, like wind through leaves. "Does that frighten you?"
"No. No, I—" He pushed himself more upright against the tree trunk, wincing as his muscles protested the movement. "I need help. I need to get out of this forest. I've been wandering for days and I can't find any path, any landmark, anything that—"
"I can guide you," she said, moving closer. The leaves rustled with each step, and he tried very hard not to notice the way the movement made them shift across her skin. "The forest is my home. I know every trail."
Relief flooded through him so intensely it made his throat tight. "Thank you. God, thank you. I thought I was going to die here."
"But you're too tired to move." She knelt beside him, those pale red eyes studying his face with an intensity that made something uncomfortable twist in his stomach. "Your body is exhausted. You need to rest first."
"I can walk. I just need—"
"Hold still." Her hands pressed against his shoulders, gentle but firm, pushing him back against the tree trunk. "Let me help you relax. You have many wounds from your journey. I should check them."
Her fingers moved to the collar of his shirt before he could process what she'd said. Cool skin brushed against his neck as she began working the buttons free, one by one. The touch sent goosebumps racing down his arms.
"Wait, what are you—"
"Checking for injuries." She pulled his shirt open, exposing his chest to the cool forest air. Her hands pressed against his skin, palms flat, and began moving in slow circles. "The forest is dangerous for those who don't know its paths. Branches can cut deep. Thorns can leave poison in the skin."
The pressure of her hands felt good—too good. His muscles, knotted from days of tension and exertion, began to unknot under her touch. She worked methodically, her fingers finding every tight spot in his shoulders, his chest, his arms as she pushed the shirt down and off his body completely.
"I don't think I have any serious wounds," he managed, though his voice came out rougher than intended. The exhaustion was making everything feel distant and hazy, and her hands moving across his bare skin weren't helping his ability to think clearly.
"I need to be thorough." Her fingers moved to his belt buckle. The metal clinked as she worked it free. "The forest can harm in ways you don't immediately feel."
His brain registered that she was now unfastening his pants, but the protest that should have formed got caught somewhere between his mind and his mouth. The exhaustion. The relief of being found. The gentle pressure of her hands as they slid down his abdomen, checking for injuries he didn't have.
She tugged his pants down his hips, and he lifted slightly without quite meaning to, helping her remove them. The moss beneath him felt soft and cool against his now-bare skin. She folded his clothing neatly beside him, then returned her attention to his body.
Her hands moved to his thighs, fingers pressing into the muscles with practiced efficiency. She worked in silence, her expression focused and serene, as though undressing strange men in the forest was a perfectly normal activity. The massage continued—calves, feet, then back up to his shoulders and neck.
"You're very tense," she observed, her fingers digging into a particularly tight knot at the base of his skull. "You've been afraid for a long time."
"Days," he admitted, his eyes drifting closed as her hands worked. "I thought I'd never find my way out."
"You won't." Her voice remained soft, gentle, unchanged. "Not without my help."
Something about that phrasing should have alarmed him, but the exhaustion and her skilled touch were pulling him into a state of deep relaxation that made thinking difficult. Her hands moved back down his body, and this time they didn't stop at his thighs.
Her fingers wrapped around his cock—soft, cool, deliberate. His eyes snapped open, and he found her watching him with those pale red eyes, her expression still serene and gentle.
"What are you—"
"Helping you relax," she said simply. Her hand began to stroke, slow and measured. "You need to be completely calm before we begin your journey out of the forest."
The sensation shot through his exhausted body like electricity. His hips jerked involuntarily, and a sound escaped his throat that he couldn't quite control. Her hand continued its steady rhythm, and despite every logical thought screaming that this was wrong, that he should stop her, his cock was responding with enthusiastic agreement.
"The forest takes much from travelers," she continued, her voice maintaining that dreamy quality even as her hand worked his hardening shaft. "But it also gives. Let it give to you now."
Her other hand joined the first, one wrapping around his base while the other focused on the head. The dual sensation made his back arch off the tree trunk, made his breathing come faster. She leaned closer, her leaf-covered breasts pressing against his arm, and he could feel the heat of her body through the thin vegetation.
"That's it," she murmured. "Let the tension leave your body. Let yourself feel only pleasure."
Her thumb circled the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the precum that had begun leaking from the tip. The slick glide of her fingers intensified every sensation, and he found his hips moving in rhythm with her strokes, seeking friction, seeking more.
Her face descended lower, pale white hair falling forward to brush against his thighs. The sensation of those silken strands against his skin made him shudder. She positioned herself between his spread legs, her breath ghosting across the swollen head of his cock in soft, deliberate exhales that sent sparks racing up his spine.
The gentle warmth of her breathing created an unbearable contrast with the cool forest air. Each exhale teased the sensitive flesh, making his shaft twitch in her grip. She watched the response with those strange pale red eyes, her expression remaining serene and focused as though she were studying something fascinating.
Both her hands wrapped around him now, one stacked above the other, stroking in tandem. The dual pressure, the coordinated movement, the slick glide of her palms—it built sensation upon sensation until his thoughts scattered like leaves in wind. She tilted her head, pressing the swollen tip of his cock against her cheek. The contact made him groan, the sound echoing through the quiet forest.
The softness of her skin against the hardness of his shaft created a contrast that his exhausted mind struggled to process. She held him there, her hands continuing their rhythmic stroking while his cockhead rested against that pale, luminescent cheek. The position felt obscene and tender simultaneously—her gentle expression unchanged even as she worked his cock with increasing skill.
"You're very responsive," she murmured, her lips moving against his shaft as she spoke. The vibration traveled through the sensitive flesh. "The forest enjoys giving pleasure to those who accept its gifts."
Her tongue emerged, tracing along the underside of his cock where it pressed against her face. The wet heat made his hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of that sensation. She adjusted her grip, angling him so the head slid across her cheek toward her mouth.
The leaves covering her breasts rustled as she shifted position, and he caught glimpses of pale flesh beneath. The vines wrapped around her torso tightened with her movement, emphasizing the small mounds, drawing his eyes downward even as her mouth opened and took him inside.
The wet heat enveloped the head of his cock, her tongue circling the ridge while her hands continued stroking the shaft. The dual stimulation—mouth and hands working in coordination—sent waves of pleasure crashing through his exhausted body. His head fell back against the tree trunk, mouth open, breathing ragged.
She took him deeper, her throat opening to accommodate his length. The sensation of sliding past her lips, feeling her tongue work against the underside, the gentle suction as she pulled back—it built and built until he felt like his nerves were on fire. Her white hair fell forward, creating a curtain that hid her face, and all he could see was the movement of her head, the flex of her throat, the way her hands never stopped their stroking.
The sounds she made were soft—wet, obscene noises that echoed in the quiet forest. Each time she pulled back, saliva coated his shaft, making her hands glide smoother, faster. She took him to the base, her nose pressing against his pelvis, and held there while her throat convulsed around him.
His hands moved without conscious thought, fingers tangling in that silken white hair. The texture felt impossibly soft, and when he gripped tighter, she made a small sound of approval that vibrated through his cock. She pulled back, gasping for air, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his shaft.
"The forest wants you to release," she said, her voice still maintaining that dreamy quality even as her lips glistened with spit and precum. "Give yourself to the pleasure. Let it consume you completely."
Her mouth descended again, taking him deep in one smooth motion. Her hands cupped his balls, rolling them gently while her throat worked his length. The combination of sensations—the wet heat, the pressure, the skilled movement of her tongue—pushed him rapidly toward the edge.
The orgasm built in his spine, tension coiling tighter and tighter. His grip on her hair tightened, holding her in place as his hips began moving, fucking her throat with shallow thrusts. She didn't resist, didn't gag, just opened wider and took everything he gave her.
"I'm going to—" The warning came out strangled, desperate.
She pulled back until just the head remained between her lips, her tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh. Her hands stroked faster, the pressure increasing, and then he was cuming—thick spurts of cum flooding her mouth. She swallowed immediately, her throat working to take it all, but there was too much. It leaked from the corners of her lips, running down her chin to drip onto her leaf-covered breasts.
She continued sucking gently as the pulses slowed, milking every last drop from his shaft. When she finally pulled away, she licked her lips slowly, savoring the taste. Her pale red eyes met his, and that gentle smile curved her lips.
"Better," she said softly. "The tension is leaving your body. But there is more work to be done."
Her hands moved to the leaves covering her breasts, fingers working at whatever secured them in place. The vegetation fell away, revealing small pale mounds tipped with pink nipples that had hardened into tight peaks. The vines around her torso remained, framing her exposed flesh, emphasizing the delicate curves.
She rose to her feet with fluid grace, then moved to straddle his lap. The remaining leaf skirt rode up as she positioned herself, and he caught a glimpse of bare skin, the suggestion of what lay between her thighs. Her hands pressed against his chest, pushing him back against the tree trunk.
"The forest requires more," she whispered, her face inches from his. "Much more before you can leave."
Her hips lowered, and he felt wet heat against his still-hard cock—slick and ready, as though she'd been preparing for him. His cock slid inside her pussy in one smooth motion, her walls clenching around him as she sank down completely.
The man's hands shot to her hips, fingers digging into pale flesh as she began to move. Her body rolled in fluid waves, riding him with practiced ease that suggested this was far from her first time guiding lost travelers. The leaves of her skirt rustled with each motion, the sound mixing with the wet slap of skin against skin.
She leaned forward, pressing her small breasts against his chest. The hard points of her nipples dragged across his skin with each roll of her hips. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling herself closer, until her face pressed into the crook of his neck. The sensation of her breath against his throat made goosebumps race down his arms.
Her lips parted against his skin, and then he felt the wet heat of her tongue tracing along the column of his neck. The unexpected sensation made his cock twitch inside her, made his fingers grip her hips harder. She sucked at his pulse point, the gentle pressure somehow more intimate than having his cock buried in her pussy.
His hands slid from her hips to her ass, palms cupping the round flesh. The skin felt impossibly soft under his rough hands, and when he squeezed, she made a small sound of approval against his neck. He used his grip to guide her movements, pulling her down as he thrust up, driving deeper with each stroke.
"Yes," she breathed against his throat, her voice taking on a breathy quality he hadn't heard before. "Like that. Harder."
He complied, his exhaustion forgotten in the face of mounting pleasure. His hips drove up to meet her downward motion, the force making her entire body shake. Her pussy clenched around him with each impact, tight and wet and perfect. The sounds she made grew louder—soft moans that vibrated against his neck where her mouth continued its assault.
"My name," she gasped out between moans, her teeth grazing his skin. "It's Sylphy."
The name registered somewhere in his pleasure-fogged brain. Sylphy. The half-elf riding his cock in the middle of an endless forest.
"Say it," she demanded, her voice gaining an edge of desperation. Her hips moved faster, grinding down on him with increasing urgency. "Call me by my name while you fuck me."
"Sylphy," he groaned, the word torn from his throat as she clenched particularly tight around him. His fingers dug into her ass, spreading her cheeks as he drove up harder. "Fuck, Sylphy—"
"Again," she moaned, her mouth moving from his neck to his jaw, leaving wet trails across his skin. "Keep saying it. I want to hear my name when you fill me."
"Sylphy," he repeated, the name becoming a mantra as his hips pistoned faster. The wet sounds of their fucking echoed through the quiet forest, mixing with her increasingly desperate moans. "Sylphy, you feel so fucking good—"
Her pussy spasmed around him, walls fluttering as pleasure crashed through her body. She cried out against his throat, the sound muffled but unmistakably one of climax. The sensation of her cuming on his cock triggered something primal in his exhausted body. His grip on her ass tightened until his fingers left marks in her pale skin, and he fucked up into her with renewed aggression.
"Sylphy," he growled, feeling his own orgasm building rapidly. "Sylphy, I'm going to—"
"Yes," she gasped, her hips never stopping their movement despite her trembling thighs. "Fill me. Give it all to me."
His cock swelled inside her tight channel, and then he was cuming—thick spurts flooding her pussy as his body went rigid beneath her. She continued rolling her hips, milking every drop from him while soft sounds of satisfaction escaped her lips. The sensation seemed to trigger another smaller orgasm in her body, her walls clenching rhythmically around his pulsing shaft.
They remained locked together as the aftershocks faded, her body draped over his, both breathing hard. His hands relaxed their grip on her ass, moving to rest more gently on her hips. The forest around them felt impossibly quiet after the sounds of their fucking.
Sylphy lifted her head from his neck, he met those pale red eyes, her dreamy expression had softened into something like satisfaction.
"The forest has accepted your offering," she said softly, her voice returning to that wind-through-leaves quality. "Now you may leave."
She lifted herself off his cock with a wet sound, his cum immediately beginning to leak from her pussy and drip onto his thighs. The sight should have been obscene, but in the dappled forest light, with her pale skin glowing and those strange eyes watching him, it felt almost ritualistic.
The man's hands tightened on her hips before she could fully rise. Something had shifted in his chest during those moments of connection—something he couldn't name but felt with absolute certainty. The exhaustion that had weighed down his limbs moments ago had transformed into desperate energy.
"No," he said, the word coming out rough and possessive. "You're not leaving."
Sylphy tilted her head, those pale red eyes studying his face with renewed interest. "But the ritual is complete. You may—"
"I don't care about leaving anymore." His fingers dug into her flesh as he pulled her back down onto his cock, which had remained hard inside her despite his recent orgasm. The sensation of re-entering her cum-slicked pussy made them both gasp. "I'm taking you with me."
He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his hands moving from her hips to cup her ass, supporting her weight. She wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, her legs circling his waist as gravity drove his cock deeper inside her. The new position made her pussy clench around him, and she moaned against his shoulder.
"What are you—" she started, but the words dissolved into another moan as he began to move, lifting her up his shaft before letting her slide back down.
"You're mine now," he growled, starting to walk toward what he hoped was the forest's edge. Each step jostled her on his cock, creating a rhythm that had her gasping and clinging tighter. "I'm not leaving this place without you."
The leaves of her remaining skirt rustled against his thighs as he moved. His cum leaked from where they were joined, running down his shaft and dripping onto the moss-covered ground with each bouncing step. The obscene wet sounds of their continued fucking mixed with her increasingly desperate whimpers.
"You can't—" she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "The forest won't—oh, fuck—"
He adjusted his grip, spreading her ass cheeks wider as he walked, driving deeper with the movement. The trees passed in a blur as he navigated between them, his focus split between finding a path and the tight heat clenching around his cock. Every step sent pleasure radiating through his pelvis, and he could feel another orgasm building despite having just come.
Sylphy's breathing grew ragged against his neck, her body trembling in his grip. The vines wrapped around her torso dug into his chest as she pressed closer, seeking friction, seeking more. Her pussy fluttered around him in rhythmic pulses that suggested she was close to coming again.
"Please," she whimpered, though whether she was begging him to stop or continue remained unclear. "I can't—it's too much—"
"You can take it," he grunted, his pace increasing as he spotted what looked like thinning trees ahead. Sunlight filtered through more brightly there, suggesting an opening. "You're going to take everything I will give you until we're out of this forest."
His strides lengthened as the trees began to thin. Branches no longer caught at his shoulders, and the undergrowth gave way to clearer ground. Each step bounced her on his cock with increasing force, and he could feel her walls starting to spasm around him in warning.
"I'm going to—" Sylphy's words cut off in a sharp cry as her orgasm hit. Her entire body went rigid in his arms, pussy clenching so tight around his shaft that it nearly stopped his movement. The sensation of her cuming while impaled on his cock sent him over the edge again.
He stumbled forward as his second orgasm tore through him, adding more cum to what already flooded her channel. His legs shook with the effort of staying upright, but he didn't stop moving. The edge of the forest was right there—he could see it now, the tree line giving way to open grassland beyond.
Sylphy's head lifted from his shoulder, her pale red eyes wide with something that looked like genuine surprise. "You're actually—you're leaving the forest with me still—"
"Told you," he grunted, taking another step. More cum leaked from her overfilled pussy, running down his shaft and thighs in thick rivulets. "You're mine now."
His foot crossed the boundary between forest floor and grass. The change in terrain was immediate and obvious—soft moss gave way to firmer ground covered in short grass. Sunlight hit his face without the filter of leaves, warm and direct. He'd made it out.
And he still had Sylphy impaled on his cock, her body trembling in his arms, her pussy still clenching around him with aftershocks as Sylphy's walls fluttered around his still-hard shaft, as her nails dug into his shoulders and her breath came in ragged gasps against his neck.
"Where—" she started, her voice unsteady. "Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere I can fuck you properly," he said, scanning the grassland ahead. In the distance, maybe half a mile away, he could make out the shapes of buildings. A village or town. "Somewhere with a bed where I can spend all night buried in this perfect pussy."
Her body shuddered at his words, and her pussy clenched again in response. The reaction made him grin despite his exhaustion. She liked that. The gentle forest guide act had been just that—an act. Underneath, she responded to being claimed, to being taken.
He adjusted his grip on her ass and started walking toward the distant buildings, each step continuing to fuck her on his cock.
Her body bounced with each step he took across the grassland, his cock driving deeper with the motion. The cum leaking from her stretched pussy created obscene wet sounds that mixed with her gasping breaths.
He stopped walking and looked down at her flushed face, at those pale red eyes that had gone hazy with pleasure. His grip on her ass tightened, holding her still on his shaft.
"You need to understand something," he said, his voice rough. "I am going to make you my wife and for the rest of your life your going to be bouncing on this dick. So get used to it."
Something flickered behind those strange eyes—not fear, not protest, but something that looked almost like relief. Her lips curved into a small smile, and she lifted her head to meet his gaze directly.
"There are worse fates," she whispered, "for a half-elf."
Her mouth pressed against his before he could respond. The kiss started gentle but quickly turned desperate, her tongue pushing past his lips to taste him deeply. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she kissed him, her hips rolling against his in small movements that sent pleasure radiating through his pelvis.
CUT!
Valentino straightened in his director's chair, all four hands spreading wide as smoke curled from between his teeth in satisfied spirals. The footage had been fucking perfect—every angle captured exactly what he'd envisioned, every moment of Sylphy's corruption preserved in crystal clarity for Hell's hungry audience to devour.
"THIS!" His voice boomed across the studio, echoing off the walls as he gestured at the monitors still displaying the final frame. "This is how you drain every last fucking dollar from those pathetic basement-dwelling virgins who've never touched a real woman in their miserable lives!"
The crew members who remained on set nodded frantically, their eyes darting between Valentino's manic grin and the footage frozen on screen—Sylphy's pale face flushed with pleasure, her small body still impaled on the male talent's cock.
Valentino's gaze swept across the studio until it landed on a nervous-looking intern hovering near the lighting equipment. Some fresh-faced imp demon who'd been lucky enough to land a position at VVV Tower and terrified enough to follow orders without question.
"You!" Valentino snapped his fingers, the sound sharp as a whip crack. "Get over here!"
The imp scrambled forward, nearly tripping over a camera cable in his haste. "Y-yes, Mr. Valentino?"
"Take this one—" Valentino gestured toward where Sylphy stood motionless at the edge of the set, still wearing those artfully arranged leaves and vines, her pale skin glistening with sweat and other fluids, her expression distant and glazed from the hypnotic smoke still keeping her docile. "—and get her cleaned up. Hair, makeup, the full treatment. She's got another shoot in two hours."
"Another shoot, sir?" The intern's voice squeaked slightly. "What kind of—"
"Did I ask for your fucking questions?" Smoke poured from Valentino's mouth as his eyes flashed cerise. "Get her to wardrobe. Tell them I want something that screams 'innocent mage discovers her inner slut.' Think academy robes that are just a little too tight, a little too short. Something that rides up when she bends over."
"Yes sir, right away sir!" The imp grabbed Sylphy's arm and began leading her toward the studio exit. She followed without resistance, her bare feet moving silently across the polished floor, those pale red eyes staring at nothing in particular.
Valentino watched them go, his grin stretching wider until his golden fang glinted under the studio lights. The grimoire pulsed warm against his chest where he'd tucked it back into his coat, already whispering suggestions for the next realm to visit, the next piece of talent to acquire.
"Let those copycat fuckers try to replicate this!" Valentino's laugh echoed through the studio as he rose from his chair, his wings unfurling in a gesture of pure triumph.