Medea F/F dialogue (Patreon)
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You hand over the pie to Medea, and she turns and sets it back on her little throne. But when she turns back to you, she wears more a smirk than a smile—and just as suddenly, an otherworldly power overwhelms your senses, bringing you to your knees.
Those big fluffy ears Medea's kept prim and tucked over her brow have opened tall and proud, revealing symbols underneath glowing bright. The source of Medea's mighty psychic power.
Your head swims for just a second, but your faculties clear as Medea saunters closer to you, paws over her hips, eyes slim and sharp. She lowers her paws to her legs just before you, spreading the soft fur from either side of her tiny slit, not yet lubricated.
"Of course, if a sexual outcome is all you're after," she says, "I'll have you be the one to put in some effort first."
[Well... get a lady wet.]
There's only the faint trace of a scent within her, unstirred so far as your face drifts closer to Medea's cunt. You may be the one servicing her right now, but she's got her own situation perfectly under control. You need her—not the other way around.
You only notice how close you've gotten already when the tip of your nose nudges between her labia, spreading her farther open purely out of your own volition at this point. Medea rumbles a wonderful little moan at your slight entrance, just the beginnings of her juices tickling your skin so far.
But despite her satisfaction, a foreign power again takes you over, and without resisting, you lift your chin straight up toward Medea. She smiles back down at you, and the look she wears with it is devious.
"Eyes up here, sweetie. Do it right."
[Maintain eye contact. Lick.]
Even while her power over you fades again, you keep staring up at Medea with big, bright eyes from underneath her. She purrs back down at you, moving one paw to gently stroke your hair, encouraging your obedience.
"Better," she coos. "Now deeper."
Best idea you've heard all day.
You nuzzle up even warmer and higher against her, within her, and press your tongue inward to Medea's audible delight. She sighs and squirms just as close back around you, making sure you stay lodged just where she likes as you wriggle deep.
Her juices leak warm over your tongue now, finally giving you your first real taste of her. The flow is tangy at first—or something close to that. Then it's just... right.
[Get a better taste.]
Your cheeks redden quickly between her legs like this. Lapping at her tightest confines, stretching through her tunnel, drinking from where she overflows... you've taken to submitting to her all too fast. And yet all you can think of beyond Medea's pussy is what a good job you're doing inside of it.
Or is that not beyond...? Doesn't matter.
Despite how good she keeps growing over your taste buds, it's just a minute further before Medea pulls you away from her dripping cunt. With both paws she pushes you down onto your back in the sand, and with symbols on her ears glowing, there she holds you firm. Your chest heaves, gasping openly, but you don't breathe even a word of complaint. At this point, your own soaked snatch is ready for whatever she's going to put your through.
"A throne's all well and good," Medea says as she steps over you, leering down from directly above your face, "but let's see how good a seat you make for me now, hmm?"
[Open wide!]
Medea straddles your face and sits herself square over your entire jaw, reconnecting her dripping pussy slow and secure back over your own wanting lips. Your tongue doesn't need an order to obey—you press back inside immediately, pushing deep while your brand new domme sighs and adjusts herself more comfortable and snug over your face, your wriggling, willing organ giving you just enough room past her muff to keep a heavy, dreamy gaze set square back up at hers.
"Very good..." Medea sighs. "I think you've earned what you came for, sweetie. Here—"
She turns just a moment back towards her throne and the symbols on her ears glow bright again, though you can't see what she's doing. But rather than leave it a surprise, Medea levitates what was the object of her attention into both her paws to show you firsthand. And—oh, god—what an object it is. A long, phallic, polished piece of wood, clearly handmade, or rather pawmade, and okay wait hold on a second—
[Did she carve barbs on that thing??]
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That's all for Medea's tree for now! :D This Saturday I'll post the last expression of Nyancy, so look forward to that!
~TAD