Echidna Dice & A Chance Of Corruption: Will-o-the-Wisp

Michael was practically skipping along as he followed the adventurers through the woods… well, skipped as best as he could in his ratty, hand-me-down boots.

“Hey, boy, don’t get lost in your own thoughts! The last thing we need is a spaced-out Lantern Bearer.” The knight of the group shouted.

The warning caused Michael to tone down the giddiness of his stride and do a quick headcount along with a sweep of his surroundings.

As the warrior had indicated, the boy, no more than nineteen moons old, was carrying around a large, brass lantern. Its healthy light easily banishing the darkness of the surrounding forest. He was bringing up the rear of the adventuring group that frequented his quaint little village, and after months of proving himself exceptional as their stable boy, he’d worked his way up to going along with them on adventures as one of their Lantern Bearers(the other one walking at the front). It was quite the prestigious position as far as Michael and his family were concerned, definitely better than alternating between stable and farm work endlessly like most of his fellows did.

It didn’t hurt that the group was pretty illustrious as well.

First, there was Alexander, the quintessential knight that strode forward in gleaming, white armor with golden, winged trim. Then Dustin, the elusive and mysterious rogue that seemed to glide along the ground with how quietly he walked, a black cloak shielding his body. Theodon, a heavy set cleric of the Order with long, grey hair that was tied into elaborate braids, his mace clunking noisily against his waist. And then, last but certainly not least…

‘The beautiful, Marina.’ Michael swooned as his eyes were drawn to the red-headed woman in elaborate, arcane robes and carrying a staff tipped with a gem. Her form was too lascivious for even her robes to conceal, bust jutting out firmly and a heart-shaped rear that dipped slightly under its own weight. She wasn’t a young woman, but she was hardly what one would call old either; her features were sharp and vaguely aristocratic, azure eyes seeming to analyze everything she glanced at.

Those eyes, in fact, met his as Michael looked around and the young boy looked away out of nervousness, a blush dusting his cheeks. 

It wasn’t like he was inexperienced or anything! It’s just that Marina had such an overwhelming aura about her.

In contrast to his crush, Michael was the farthest thing from majestic looking. Sure, he was well fed with a decent frame from his life of labor, but that’s about where the positive attributes ended in his mind.  His clothes, a tunic and leather trousers, were rugged and brown hair that was a bit ratty all around, and slightly buck teeth he constantly tried to hide with closed mouth smiles. Not to mention his freckled and rough skin.

But he tried not to let that bother him as they kept going through the woods. “Always keep yer chin up.” As his mom so often said.

“We’re one hour out from the dungeon, people!” Alexander continued after Michael finished looking around. “Once we’re inside, we’ll make a tighter formation so that Michael and Jonathan can light up the area around us. The monsters and traps in there will be strong enough that we won’t have time to mess around with torches while we work; you two just focus on not being in the way.”

Everyone nodded, Michael included as they absorbed those orders. The excitable commoner tried to hype himself up in preparation, solidifying his courage. ‘I worked hard to get here, I’ll earn more money than muh family’s eva had before. All I need ta do is survive a few fights while hiding behind the adventure’s skirts, I’ll be fine.’ Out of reflex he grabbed and felt up the Order pendant around his neck; a cheap trinket bought by a worried mother that was little more than a cross with white wings. The village wasn’t even that religious and the rumpy woman had still got the trinket for him.

Honestly, mom was such a worrywart.

And Michael kept on thinking that… right up until pealing laughter crashed through the silence of the woods a few seconds later. Everyone started in surprise, and then looked towards the sound of laughter and several sets of stomping feet coming from the treeline.

“Gyahahaha! Looks like meat’s back on the menu, girls!”

Several figures in baggy, colorful clothing rushed from the trees, wielding oversized clubs while cackling wildly. After seeing the red hair, horns, pointed ears, and even Michael’s meager knowledge as a villager let him know immediately what was rushing them. Even at a distance, Michael could see their clear, useful faces lit up with almost child-like glee… their smiles showing small fangs.

“Goblins!” Everyone shouted as they all scrambled to respond to the sudden assault.

Then things fell into further disarray as an equally small, but far more top-heavy form, of a hobgoblin sailed over her sister to tackle Alexander to the ground in a tangle of metal and giggles. Her pillowy breasts jiggled almost comically, barely constrained by the leather-wrapped around the front, as she alternated between wrestling their knight and trying to press soft, tit-flesh onto his visor.

Michael’s mind filled with panic and fear as over a dozen goblins started to surround them. But he needn’t have been so worried; In less than a second after the initial confusion of a surprise charge, Alexander bodily threw his opponent back into the approaching hoard and was back on his feet faster than it looked like a man in armor should be able. Dustin fired off several shots from his bow, cries of pain ringing out as the arrows nicked flesh. Theodon, for his part, slammed his mace against his shield in preparation for melee. While Marina made the most dazzling difference; the woman spoke one word, pointed her staff at the group and let loose with a bolt of arcane power. On impact with just one of the screeching goblins, it exploded and sent the entire group into disarray.

Michael’s hope bloomed, and he briefly paused, in awe at the power and skill on display. That is until the hobgoblin got back up.

“You fight well.” The hobgoblin grumbled after distancing herself from her fellows. Then a sneering grin stretched across her face as she reached into the smooth, egregious slope of her cleavage, near her entire forearm disappearing into the pale valley, before pulling out a wooden orb that glowed with an inner light. “We fight dirty~” The short monster chucked it, the orb blurring forward under the power of her brutish strength.

In an amazing display of skill, the rogue shot the orb out of the air… which turned out to be a poor decision as soon as the arrow made contact. The orb exploded in an overwhelming display of light and sound.

Michael, along with everyone else, swore as the light blinded him and his ears rang. Internally, past all the roiling emotions, Michael cursed himself for stopping. He was still several dozen paces away from the party, and with goblins doubtlessly readying themselves to charge again, he had no choice but to just run in the direction he last saw them and pray.

His mad sprint for safety was filled with the muted sound of combat while he desperately ran forward with nothing but a blurry void in his vision. The young man stumbled over roots and branches and he barely held onto his lantern as he just kept running.

It felt like hours to Michael, but in actuality was probably only a minute or so, before his vision and hearing faded back in. Unfortunately, he didn’t find himself running alongside the adventurers. Instead, he was alone and panting in the middle of a copse of trees, no allies insight. Just him standing with a brightly burning lantern, signaling his location. The light, instead of reassuring him, just made the darkness beyond its reach seem all the more imposing and isolating.

Michael looked about frantically. “Th- this can’t be happenin’ to me. I- it wasn’t supposed ta be like this.” He stuttered to himself before he caught sight of something in the distance. A faint light, it was hard to distinguish even the color from this distance and with all the intervening branches but he could still see it.

‘It must be the other Lantern Bearer.’ Michael thought as desperation and hope in equal measure rekindled in his heart and he chased after the bobbing light immediately. For the long minutes this chase continued, the light danced at the edge of his vision and between trees, but he thanked his lucky stars that it never strayed farther than that. Internally he rationalized it as the adventuring party needing to move quickly to avoid the goblins.

That is until, after it looked like he’d be making some ground, the light disappeared behind a tree and didn’t make another appearance. He desperately chased after it in a bid to catch sight of his possible salvation again. He ran forward until he unwittingly broke the tree line and stumbled into a clearing.

‘No, not a clearing.’ Michael thought. ‘A graveyard.’

It was ratty and broken down, the dozens of tombstones within were cracked or outright shattered to rubbled. Vegetation grew over squat buildings, old tombstones, and iron fencing all throughout the area. The air itself was oddly still and quiet, as if the forest itself was cautious to cause too much of a racket here with wind or wildlife.

Michael suddenly stepped cautiously, getting a deeply bad feeling about the place he was in. He looked behind himself and saw that he’d run through a gap in the fencing, the section looked as if something had smashed its way through ages ago with how old and rusted the warped metal looked.

A mocking laugh sent ice water down his back.

“Tricked you~”

Michael spun and saw the light again; its color was no longer ambiguous, it glowed an ominous, pale blue light. It bobbed up and down in the doorway of an ancient looking mausoleum, clearly not being held by anyone or anything.

Michael knew of goblins, trolls, and orcs; but whatever had led him here was far beyond his meager knowledge. He turned to run, only for an invisible, phantasmal force to yank him off his feet. He fell to the ground hard, lantern tumbling from tired, sweaty fingers before it proceeded to drag him rapidly along the ground towards the mausoleum and the mocking light.


Were the only words to echo throughout the graveyard before Michael was dragged inside and the door to the building shut with a booming finality of stone-against-stone. Then there was nothing save for the rustle of wind against greenery covering the graveyard.


“Honestly, how long are you going to flail about like that?”

The darkness had been so absolute that, initially, Michael thought that he had well and truly been dumped into some great void. Now, with the terror not quite so high (but still noticeably there) he was rational enough to recognize that he was on a stone floor and no longer being pulled around.

A light flared above him and the young man was briefly blinded by its radiance. From his position on his back on the floor, he’d gotten a full-frontal flash. Only after long seconds of blinking could he make out the figure at the center of the glow.

And it was… a woman. A thing of ethereal beauty in a metal cradle not dissimilar to what his, now lost, lantern had been in.

“Honestly, if I knew you’d be this pathetic, I’d have just left you to stumble around in the forest instead of going to the trouble of tricking you.” The woman held a hand to her mouth at the end of her statement and let out tittering laughter.

“I- I- My god…” Michael mumbled in wonder as she took in her visage in more detail. Ma always said it was rude to stutter, but this woman’s visage easily broke his composure.

The first thing he noticed was her skin and the flames, because how could he not? The specter was a beautiful woman situated in a metal cradle filled with blue flames, the same azure color of the woman’s very skin. Free flowing, raven black hair framed a well-sculpted face with eyes, while a beautiful blue as well, also had unatural rings where there would otherwise be irises.

“Wh- what are you? Why did ya bring me here?”

“Really, that’s how you’re going to start our tête-à-tête? With, ‘what’, not ‘who’?” The spectral woman just shook her head, long black hair flowing in time with the movements. “Fine, I suppose I’ll be forced to compensate for your social unsophistication for now.”

Such words would have normally gotten Michael bristled at how openly degrading they were, but with the strangeness of the situation and the unknown nature of the being in front of him, he simply nodded his head.

And his eyes couldn’t help but wander as she strutted about, the fabric over the top of her breasts were stretched sinfully tight. Perfectly molding to the rolling hills of flesh and leaving very little to the imagination; no doubt, if not for the thick band of leather covering where her nipples would be, they’d be making an impression as well. 

Her skirt was little better; the front curiously covering her modesty with only thin silk and ghostly mist that obscured nothing but her nethers, leaving luscious thighs that squished together as she walked bare to see. The woman had the same confidence as Marina and an equally hot body, but with such expert exposure that it sent Michael’s blood racing.

“I, my dear, lower class peasant, am a Will O The Wisp. Not just any old specter from beyond, no, my vessel was born from the lonely death of the amazing Desdemona.” She finished with a flourish, letting go of his head to throw her hands out to the side as if she was about to embrace some kind of applause for the revelation.

Although Michael didn’t throw out praise, his eyes did widen in recognition as everything fell into place.

This was Desdemona. The Desdemona. 

A noble duchess that was practically a fairytale from generations bygone when his humble village was a prosperous city. People of the village revered her as a melancholy sort of folk hero, renowned for her masterful ability to keep her fellow nobles in check. But eventually, she lost her life to the supreme loneliness that her talent and genius had brought her. Which had then precipitated his birth places’ fall into squalor and irrelevance as the nobles took and took unchecked… until there was nothing left.

This all happened generations before Michael had been born, it was time to focus on the here and now. And right here, right now, this legend stood (floated really) before him as a specter. Michael had no idea what a “Will o the wisp” was exactly, but he was fairy tale savvy enough to know that apparitions of people who died in tragic or violent ways hardly ended well.

Though, despite his fear, the young man bowed his head towards her slightly, acknowledging the difference in their status. Before he’d only been focusing on the obvious, salacious openings, but now he could see more. Desdemona wasn’t wearing the traditional royal garb that old paintings depicted her in. Instead, her current dress was a dark grey and black number with metallic accessories; a small crown atop her head, spikes under her shoulder ploms, and a thick collar with an inset jewel at her front. While gloved hands held down the hem of her dress that showed a tantalizing amount of shapely legs that tapered down to cute, well-manicured feet. All under the blue glow of the flames she floated in while within her cradle of flame.

“Th- that doesn’t answer w- why though…” Michael ventured as his captor floated around him with a smug smile on her aristocratic features; pillowy lips making the expression utterly sensual. In the back of his mind, he knew logically that there shouldn’t be enough room in the building for her to float around above him like this. But apparently whatever was happening right now didn’t care for his meager understanding of reality as Desdemona clearly floated around in a circle at least twice the size of the building he’d been dragged into.

“Well~” Desdemona intoned. “I happened to be wandering about, in search of my home village, doubtless the nobles have grown greedy and capricious in the absence of my presence. Then I stumbled upon that little band of adventurers and you practically drooling over that strumpy mage like a dog.” Her voice turned a bit biting and antagonistic then and any faint thoughts Michael might have had about defending his small-time crush were dashed under her withering gaze. “I was prepared to just watch you pass by, weak as I am now. Until that Goblin raid stormed through and I sought to help you after you stumbled blind into the woods. It is the duty of the nobility to guide and help their lessers after all. If I hadn’t, the little worms only a few meters away surely would have caught you.”

Michael’s eyes widened in surprise at that. “So, if ya hadn’t led me away… Oh my god.” He breathed deep as he ran his hands through his hair, on the edge of hyperventilating after discovering how close to death he’d come.

“Yes, your lantern made you a rather big target, my dear.” She agreed, stopping to float in front of him now. Then she descended, balancing her lantern-lower half impossibly on the stone floor with a small ‘tink’ sound. 

A beat of silence passed.

“So… can I go?” Michael asked, lifting his eyes to meet her gaze before shivering and turning away as her eyes openly eyed him up.

“Well, I must admit, that my reasons weren’t entirely altruistic, young… Hmm, I’m terribly sorry, I haven’t even asked your name.” Desdemona said. “That’s rather gauche of me, even though you’re a commoner.”

“I- It’s Michael, muh esteemed duchess.”

She waved away her former title like it was an annoying gnat, while at the same time her cradle split open, allowing her to step forward on pale, blue legs. The flames had partly obscured them before, but now he could see that they were more long and waifish than plump like her exposed thighs would suggest.

“Well then, my Michael.” She rolled the word, as if tasting it while she cornered him against a wall that hadn’t been there before, cold stone pressing against him. “It’s time I told you about why I lead you here: I need your energy.”

“I-I- Um… Ma’am- Desdemona, I don’t have anything like that. M- maybe I could get you a mage.” Michael stuttered, his mind racing to rapidly deny the closing insinuation that the “hunger” in the duchess’ eyes made clear. But before he could say more, Desdemona silenced him with a finger to his lips. He found that her quasi insubstantial form made her no less real in that respect as he felt her touch and heat clearly. Which was pronounced further as six feet of slim, womanly curves was pressed up against his front shortly after. 

This close, her prominent mammaries molded perfectly to his broad chest, his heartbeat seeming to reverberate through both of them, and certainly beating hard enough to compensate for the regal woman’s lack of one.

“There’s no need to act coy.” She said into his ear, hand moving from his mouth to caressing the back of his head and through his hair, long nails sending tingles up and down his scalp. “You must know what creatures like me need. And I don’t care about whatever propaganda the Order is pushing these days. I am your duchess, and you will obey. And if you don’t know…” Her other hand plucked the cross around his neck and then held his chin steady, nails pricking the skin. “I’ll be happy to teach you.” 

Michael was, in fact, developing quite the clear picture as to what she wanted from him; he was neither naive nor a virgin in this regard. And up this close, he could see how her looks transcended even Marina’s; while the sorceress was a scholar with regal features, Desdemona was the real deal. Even in her saturated, spectral state; the subtle increased smoothness of skin, luscious hair, and casual confidence proved to be born from a lifetime cultivating such an image.

The warmth of her body was transitioning into pleasure the longer things went on; it flowed through every aspect of him and the young man bucked unconsciously despite himself and his cheeks flushed in shame even as the rest of him occasionally twitched. His internal struggle only grew more harrowing as the duchess brought him closer while trapping him against the wall.

“And you were giving that pretty, little witch such adorable looks.” She hissed, barred teeth touching his earlobe, and this time his bucking hips hit her svelte hips. “Practically shoving your crush in my face while traipsing through my forest. It’s about time you learned your affection is better spent with me, your duchess, rather than on some mystical slut.”

All thoughts of her progressively more possessive and jealous words were whisked away as, after pressing their foreheads together and making eye contact, she captured his lips with hers. 

Michael’s resistance to the situation due to the sheer, supernal strangeness of it melted away; he wrapped his arms around her as well and brought Desdemona in closer, deepening the kiss for long seconds before separating with a soft, wet sound. They’d been kissing so firmly that the young man was surprised that he couldn’t feel her lipstick smeared on his mouth


She kissed him again and what he might have said vacated his mind as he reciprocated almost intuitively, if clumsily. So caught up in the taboo he was that Michael didn’t even notice that the royal woman was just as clumsy and fervent in her oral ministrations.

As they continued, Michael couldn’t help but be surprised by how real she felt against him. The glossy feeling of her pillowy lips, a perfume that smelled faintly of roses, a dull pulsing warmth, and her womanly curves all assaulted his senses. He started to grope instead of simply holding her tight, hands caressing an elegant back through her dark dress, then descended down to palm her pert ass. 

She pulled away with a hiss, though her hips bucked into his grip, and locked her eyes with his once more. “I’ll take your eager pawing as acceptance, peasant.”

“My name is Michael.” The boy grunted as he rested his forehead against her’s.

Desdemona smirked before pulling back, easily hefting both of them into the flames of her cradle, the metal opening snapping shut again.

Michael initially flinched at the spectral flames that now consumed him up to his thighs, only to then stare in wonder as it felt like no more than a gentle caress of heat. A tug at his collar drew his attention back to the woman in his arms wearing a smoldering expression.

“If you want me to say your name.” She crowned, floating to sit on the edge of the “cage” and pulling him between her legs. “Then make me~”

Suddenly, the fact he was standing in flames was far less of a concern as he grabbed the noblewoman by her ample hips and pulled himself closer, and sealed her mouth with a kiss again. She was only an inch or two taller than him in this position, so the lip lock remained as heated and desperate as hands roamed once more for reasons other than simple groping. Though he did let his hands search her front and squeeze the generous swell of her breasts at first while Desdemona “attacked” his clothes. First came his shirt, pulled up and briefly broke the kiss, then his pants dragged down, and Michael kicked off his boots easily enough on his own. The only thing left being his tented trousers and the flames of Desdemona’s construct literally burnt it away like so much paper within an inferno.

Not an unapt comparison considering how eager Desdemona’s efforts became as his thick, pulsing shaft pressed against her smooth, silky dress. He couldn’t resist bucking against his now-naked form while stocking clad legs wrapped snugly around him. With a much quicker motion, her entire dress was pulled over her head, as if the garment had been designed to be discarded quickly for the sake of debauchery; a smooth and unblemished torso with a nice handful of flesh on each tit greeted him. They pulled each other back together again, delighting in the friction of their two bare forms, breats pressing hard and dragging sinfully up and down his lightly haired chest.

Michael’s was briefly thrown for a loop, however, when Desdemona grabbed his shaft and immediately directed it toward her lower mouth, the entrance visibly soaked and clearly eager to gobble up any virile shaft that pierced it.

“I- Um, uhh. D- don’t you want me to go down on you first? I heard-” He started to say before Desdemona grabbed his chin and forced eye contact yet again.

“It has been a long stint of generations of carnal isolation, my peasant. Do not make me wait.” And with that, the duchess rolled her hips forward and impaled herself on the head of his cock.

Lights went off in the back of his head as the contact was made, a cloying heat so entrancing that Michael instinctively thrust forward in reciprocation, slamming his shaft balls deep into a willing hole. 

“Goddess, yes!” Desdemona cried out as Michael couldn’t help himself from immediately drawing back out to his tip, before slamming himself back inside. His pace immediately started off gruff and fast, delighting in the velvet softness of the sheath he was repeatedly sinking into.

So wet and snug was her cunt that his own groans were let loose during his assault, cock driving forward and practically molding her snatch to the shape of his cock. The noble’s insides shoved aside and filled before being vacated so fast that she thought she’d be turned inside out with how hard her cunt clung on. It was as if Michael was putting every ounce of strength he had into teaching her quim that it was nothing but a receptacle for his cock, and hopefully, his rich and voluminous seed.

He lavished in the feeling of it as he thrust into her eagerly, arms wrapped around her waifish figure to drill her all the harder, cock plunging in and out with increasingly wet sounds as her arousal grew with his own. He grunted and groaned into her earring-pierced ears openly, and she didn’t mind at all as she let his pleasure be known inside his ear likewise.

“Yesyesyesh.” She rambled, teeth bared from the sheer intensity of the rough fucking, hips bucking to meet the boy’s thrusts, his balls noisily slapping the lower curve of a pert ass. “I- it’s so f- fucking g- good. Gunna cum shoooon.” All pretense of proper talk having apparently vanished as she happily sunk into slurred, lewd babblings of a woman possessed by carnal sensations.

Only the dimmest part of Michael’s mind registered the implications of those words while the rest was dedicated towards pushing his cock through the older woman’s inflamed birth canal until he achieved orgasm. He’d penetrated and started his thrusting for barely two minutes now and she already sounded deliriously close. Desdemona had been right, he wasn’t a virgin, but he wasn’t tremendously experienced either. So while a lot of pride welled up at how easily he brought the haughty noble to such mind blending pleasure, the rest realized it probably had more to do with the fact that it had been such a long time for Desdemona.

And in a flash, he knew exactly the way to push her over the edge of bliss in fantastic fashion.

With a fierce bit of exertion, hips still clapping away at her own motherly set, Michael pried Desdemona’s legs from around him and pressed them up and forward until the back of her knees rested on his shoulders, small feet pointed upwards above his head. With that, he wrapped his arms tightly around her again, bundling her body up before thrusting in short, brutal strokes as the ghostly woman was treated to a standing matting press.

And enjoy it she did, the entire expanse of her pillowy thighs now his hip-cushion as he fucked her cunt like a man possessed. Her cute grunts and growls through clenched teeth increasing rapidly until the rapid pulsing of his own shaft as he neared orgasm forced her to the brink.

“Fuck, Michael!~” Came her fierce cry as her entire body locked up in pleasure, muscles tensing and cute toes curling hard above his head. Her full body orgasm trapping his shaft in a velvet sheath of rippling flesh that pushed him over the edge as well.

Michael couldn’t hold in his own groan as he thrust for the last time and felt his balls tense up just before unloading inside of her hungry quim, the first shot of cum like a line of warm pleasure up his cock. Each subsequent pump heralding a heavy, virile shot into the mewling woman in his arms.

“Yes, conquer me. Mark me as yours.” Desdemona snorted out the words as she clenched her jaw and eyes almost rolled up into the back of her head, the overwhelming satisfaction of a thick, deep creampie prolonging her own pleasure.

Her snug, warm insides clenched around him as her, also solid, feminine release painted his crotch. Despite all practical logic telling him that this oddly colored woman was a specter, she was more real than ever as they basked in the glow. Shot after shot into her depths cementing that feeling, her silken channel eventually overflowed as her womb was stuffed full and the pink walls were soaked with his seed.

Eventually, slowly, her legs slipped off of his shoulders and then gently curled around to hold his toned hips. And they just held each other there for a minute of silent basking, her insides keeping him ever hard inside of her.

“Finally… finally…” He heard her mumble inside of his ear as she shifted, breasts rubbing against his chest.

An idea peaked within Michael’s mind at that. “Wait, was this your first time?” He’d shifted his head back from resting on her shoulder to look up at her face.

Desdemona’s glowing eyes met him with surprise, then she darted in and gave him a harsh, firm kiss.


Then pulled away just as suddenly and bit his lip.


Michael’s surprises were far from over yet though as he felt the flames beneath them suddenly flare up, lifting him and then flipping him onto his back; his calves on one lip of the bowl and his upper back on the other side, while Desdemona saddled him cowgirl style. 

She immediately set into a fit of inexperienced, but firm hops on his length, her still clinging cunt quickly messaging his shaft back to full, aching erection. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” She fumed, even as her face flushed a fierce shade of azure while she rode him until he was gasping at the sudden sensations. Obviously, her new form let her go for longer than a human could keep up with. “Don’t look down on me, Michael.” She practically ground his name out in time with how her hips gyrated hard against his after a particularly intense drop. Her ass clapped pleasantly as it smacked into his thighs repeatedly, sensations driving Michael even more insensate..

“I suggest unf you heed who’s the nggh noble here.” She said between puffs of breath as raw need and annoyance seemed to drive her pace faster, lower lips squishing wetly around the base of his shaft. “You just focus on guh not being charmed by any more ugh mage sluts- Oh lord!” She ranted hard as her humping became shallow and erratic before her own pace caught up with her and she groaned through clenched teeth as the pleasure became too much for conversation any longer. The only noise echoing throughout the dark space now being their mutual sounds of euphoria and rapid sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

Michael didn’t feel his shaft bathed in the warmth of his previous relief as he expected, instead, the raw feeling of her insides was just as smooth and silky as before, as if her body had absorbed everything he’d given. And considering how tightly she clung to his dick as the young man instinctively thrust up to meet those perfect hips, it was hungry for more.

“F- fuck. You’re gonna make me- grnnh!” Michael grunted as Desdemona leaned down to hold onto his shoulders like handle-bars, their combined movements making her considerable breasts flop about. Words forewarning of his release only seemed to drive his partner’s movements further, thick shaft thumping at her deepest chamber. And, contrary to the strained nature of his word, the boy himself couldn’t resist the urge to grab the perfect hand-holds that were her hips. His fingers easily sinking knuckle-deep into the soft flesh of her hips and ass as both slammed down onto his pelvis.

Despite the undeniable impacts of her riding, the rim of the cradle didn’t dig into his body as he lay atop it. As if the force simply didn’t transfer past the moment of delicious pleasure.

Whatever was making this position possible and comfortable didn’t lessen the pleasure any though. Only a mere half-dozen more womb punching drops brought them both to their peaks once more.

Desdemona went ramrod straight and let out a lewd groan as she tilted her head up towards the ceiling, blue form tingeing purple as she felt hot lances of Michael’s release fill her innermost chamber again. Thick, throbs of his cock heralded each pump into her cunt, Michael grunting and growling all the while as her hips never stopped rolling, draining him dry.

Only after a full minute of this vigorous extraction of spirit energy did Desdemona finally relax and fall atop him. Their fronts smooshed together as his softening cock slipped from her entrance, so thoroughly drained that not even a dribble of seed preceded it.

“So…” Michael breathed before stopping when the noblewoman astride him pressed a still firm but less energetic kiss to his lips. 

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, lover.” She grumbled, arms snaking around to cradle his head tenderly.

Seeing no other way forward, Michael simply sighed and said, “Yes, Desdemona.”

Her grip became tighter. “Desdemona, what?”

He gulped as his cheeks tinged pink, “Desdemona, my lover.” 

At that she let out a contented hum, snuggling in closer just to breathe him in, and for minutes, they lounged like that. His wiry, fit frame pressed against one made waifish and shapely by gentle noble life, callused hands gripping lightly along warm, ghost flesh. Sighs of contentment occasionally broken by the occasionally indulgent kisses on lips, necks, and shoulders. What exhaustion he’d initially felt was easily burned away by the spectral flames that suffused and soothed them both, and in no time Desdemona felt his shaft pressing into her flesh again, pulsing slightly.

Desdemona eyed it hungrily, and Michael had no intentions of denying her if she pounced him again. 

But, with visible effort, the duchess martialed herself and sat up, though still seated in his lap. She briefly fanned herself before, with a flick of her wrist, her clothing reappeared on her body in a swirl of light. “As pleasant as it would be to take a nap here, I can’t afford to dally now.” He watched, half-drowsy and half-lustful, as she made another gesture, he felt the world warp slightly right before a door opened to the outside world. The graveyard outside seemed to have remained unchanged and with a flare of azure light, Desdemona confirmed that as the cradle they were in soared out and up into the twilight air, her flames brightening the entire area.

“Yes, this will do nicely.” The duchess said as her smile turned roguish and confidence of the non-sensual kind flared in her eyes. “With this power, I can finally return to my town and start fixing the mess the nobles have doubtless stirred up during my… absence.” Michael didn’t know if she’d read his memories or if nobility was truly that predictable to the domineering woman. Either way, he was in no state, physically or mentally, to question her assessment.

The world tilted as their impromptu carriage tilted in the direction of the village, with the duchess’ obvious intent to rush over now. At that moment, effectively high off the pleasure, Michael did what felt right in the moment; He stood up, put an arm around the waist of the tall woman and planted a kiss on her cheek, and looked ahead. “And I’ll be right there with you.”

Despite her grin, her cheeks tinged with a blush again but she didn’t push him away. Instead, she reciprocated and slid an arm around his naked waist. “You better be.”

With that last command, they soared up and then streaked across the moonlight sky like a falling star.


“Oh, the humanity!” 

Michael sighed as he reclined on his bed. His new bed, in his new, fancy home. Since Desdemona had declared menial labor beneath him; this was usually where he stayed now. Either at her side during her duties, with his friends among the villagers, or in this bedroom where he typically tended to her and his (newfound)… “needs”.

Another, frankly petulant, wail dragged another sigh from Michael’s lips as he reflected on his current situation.

Desdemona’s conquering of the town was surprisingly swift, even though it should have been predictable in retrospect. They had been a poor, border town, barely more than a village and not near any notable sights of corruption or monster territories, so they didn’t have any of those fancy Order Knights or special equipment to help repel “monsters”.

As such, the guards and decadent nobility had been swiftly overcome, and subsequently, the rest of the townsfolk had followed suit. Such was the power of a fully awakened and empowered Will O’ The Wisp, apparently.

Now, two weeks later, things were going smoothly. Desdemona had lived up to her near-folk hero hype, raining in the nobility (who had been corrupted into an odd mix of elves, succubi, and vampires), and was leading the villagers into a higher quality of living to go along with their rampant sexual freedom.

The only problem now was that…

“Hey!” Desdemona called from where she was lounging on her fainting couch (Which; seriously?) and pouted as she glowered at him. “Your lovely wife is in pain over here.”

… Desdemona could get to be a bit needy. “High maintenance”, as his father called it. Well… he’d say that if he wasn’t busy tending to his succubus wife lately.

Michael bit back another sigh and walked over to his newlywed, sitting on the edge of the couch instead of lying down with her. Something she clearly disliked judging by the way she pouted cutely at him as she leaned forward, pushing her breasts forward to show a tantalizing amount of ghost-flesh.

He didn’t know the specifics of what was plaguing her, but he didn’t have to. It was generally the same thing; Desdemona handled the politics of high life with perfect poise and grace in the moment and often reigned in the darker habits of her fellow nobles, but in private she saw a need to vent. Specifically, vent in a way that was far less stuffy than the way she is expected to conduct herself in court.

As such, the noblewoman was currently clad in little more than a silk robe and was currently imploring him with her luminous eyes to strip and “comfort” her after some noble or another had been difficult with her in court.

And Michael wouldn’t have traded her for anyone else in the world.

As “high maintenance” as she might be, his sighs had been ones of rye amusement, not annoyance. And he ultimately could relate to how hard she worked and tirelessly dedicated to what she saw as her duty. Something a poor, farmhand determined to move up in life could easily find endearing.

And he definitely sympathized with the need to rest and vent to a friend on occasion.

So it was only with a small sigh that he started unbuttoning his shirt and decided to utilize those new “proper language” lessons he’d been put through as of late. “You’re a right menace of a woman, Desdemona. Absolutely incorrigible to tempt a mere, young boy like this.”

Her own smile merely became toothy as she saw him complying. “You know you love it… and me.” She stressed the last word.

Michael just rolled his eyes but also just couldn’t resist the opportunity to say;

“I do.”

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