Strippers!

[🎶 The Way I Are (Dance With Somebody) – Bebe Rexha ft. Lil Wayne.]

"I LOVE YOUR SILVER HAIR, you're a real platinum blonde," one of the dancing girls said and edged closer to Cora.

The girl twirled to give her back to Cora. The witch was no stranger to getting some from girls who found her boyish swagger attractive, and Cora slid her palm down the dancer's slim waist. She allowed the girl grind into her.

"So, you from around here?" The girl pushed out her ass and put her hands into her dark hair.

She made erotic slow moves with her body on Cora's. She gyrated to feel the womanliness visibly unfound in her taller partner and Cora knew the girl wanted to touch her. She didn't reply her question. The brunette sought more contact. She put her body flush against Cora. Her head fell back and she nuzzled Cora's neck, whispering softly,

"You don't talk much. Mystique, I like it."

She took hold of Cora's hands and ran it down her hips to inch on her thighs. Cora grabbed at her grey skimpy skirt. Rafel growled behind.

"Careful now. She's mine." But he wasn't talking about the other girls swarming him. He was talking about Cora. Four young women danced with him. They fancied his flame hair and unnatural gold iris. However, all the while Cora played with the fifth, she kept her eyes locked on Rafel's.

She loved when he watched her with stoking passion in his gaze. He liked seeing her with other girls.

The music in the dance hall picked up and the brunette turned to wrap her arms around Cora's neck. Just then, Giselle walked in and the crowd parted for her even though she wore no tiara.

"Pardon, I have to cut in."

The brunette dropped her hands off Cora's neck and bowed meekly at Giselle. Everyone paused their dancing for a moment and watched. Giselle grabbed both Rafel and Cora's hands and pulled them toward the hall's exit. The glittery club lights dimmed and the crowd began jumping again. Giselle led her friends out the hall and through a long passage.

It had the wan lighting of sconces and was empty of the usual rowdy partiers.

"Uh, we're are we going?" Cora let the Queen drag her on, but asked.

"To the REAL party."

"How about the hundreds of people we just left exerting to pounding electric music?"

Giselle stopped at this. She turned back to smile between Rafel and Cora, and released their hands. In response to Cora's naive ask, she grinned and said, "Trust me, this is the one you want to be at." They all stood in front of a large red door. Blocking it was an unsmiling bear of a man.

A club bouncer, one of Giselle's Queensguard.

Giselle nodded lightly to him. He turned to the side, pulled the door and held it open so they could all walk through. The large man finally smiled when Rafel passed by him. He had heard about Skyfall too. Apparently, now Rafel was something of a war hero. His name was next to the posters of the feast, mentioned in talk about valor and honor, and even on the lips of the Highfather.

He tried to return the bouncer's enthusiastic beam. It came out strained.

Rafel didn't want to be a fucking hero!

"Here we are!'

He refocused at the cheery sound of Giselle's voice.

"Woah! What!" Cora gasped.

Rafel looked around. He was dazzled. They appeared to be in a small room. It had a chic, suave and arctic tone complimenting the several love seats spread about. The sofas were in a circle around a raised silver platform. The room's decor was like the door into it. A sensual crimson, the catchy color of Lilith's favorite G-string—if Rafel remembered correctly.

But of course he did.

The first time he'd seen her in the thong, he had been passing by her shower.

Nonetheless, in the present, this new room was styled to effect erotic thoughts in the minds of the partakers. Giselle had being right. This, was the real party. Some of the love seats were taken. There were only a few people present: less than a dozen. Rafel recognized them as the crème de la fucking crème of the Empire. The top one percent.

The most powerful people, political and magical, in all the Fae-ruled lands were currently in this room. A familiar voice spoke out from a dark booth.

"I knew I'd happen upon you again, Young Master."

Rafel turned in the sensual atmosphere to find the beautiful doctor, Nicara Shetty standing and beaming at him. She was as redhaired and pretty as he remembered. Her literal cat eyes twinkled at him. Somehow, even the Headmistress of the Corynthian Witch Academy could not resist a good party.

"Doctor Shetty," Rafel smiled. He recalled fondly their last encounter.

Nicara waved his formality off with another smile.

"I needed time away from the school. A holiday from studies if you will. Besides, Her Majesty promised a perfect evening tonight—her words." Nicara winked at Giselle.

"I see..." Cora put in. "So we are not the only ones about to be surprised by what she has planned?"

"Nope. You're not," said the Doctor.

Giselle interrupted ebulliently. "Come, come, my friends. The show's about to begin."

Smiling, everyone took their seats. Nicara returned to hers. Rafel took one of the love seats with Cora; the maroon couch was lush as a mattress dipping. Giselle settled in beside her bestfriend, Cordelia who had already been in the room when they entered. However, her husband the Count was nowhere to be found. Since they were only a handful in the comfy lounge, the erotic experience was shared and felt by all.

Cora glanced at Rafel with a small smile. His eyes were chilly. Nearest to their sofa was the one shared by the Queen and her bestfriend. Cordelia placed her hand in Giselle's lap. She was comfortable in the touch—because everyone in this particular room tonight had come to a silent agreement: no word of what happened within would be said without.

Gold curtains behind fluttered open and a couple of new girls walked in. Their figures were disarmingly sexy. They were of all skin shades. A variety. And they were beautiful as mermaids. Their bodies were young and full, and held the vigor and health of care.

"Show girls?" A man openly guffawed.

The girls smiled and dispersed randomly, one to each sofa, and that man's eyes glued to the one who moved for him: her porcelain skin like a polished stone. He didn't care that she was young enough to be his granddaughter.

"My God!" He chanted as she sat beside him and pecked his cheek. "You are beautiful as Aphrodite. This is the best fucking party ever. Thank you, Your Majesty," the man lauded the Queen.

Giselle nodded, equally engrossed in her partner. Her own girl was a sexpot with an amazing tan that made her skin into honey. Her hair was dyed hot pink and touched by a curling iron. She looked good enough to eat. Giselle said, "No thanks are needed, General Byron. But these are not show girls."

"Strippers!" Dr. Nicara offered. Her feline eyes licked at the curves on her own paramour, and her palm skimmed the girl's fresh thigh.

"A little more than that, Doctor," Giselle smiled back. "These very alluring angels you see and touch tonight are top earners in their day jobs. They command men in their disciplines. But at night, they become ours. They love to give pleasure, and tonight we are their lucky recipients."

Giselle ran her hand through the girl's pink hair, seated between her and Cordelia.

"This is Raelle," she introduced. "Raelle works as a well-known Modiste in the District of Lords. By day, she is designer extraordinare. By night, she is high-class entertainer."

Lord Byron's mouth was agape.

"So they do this because they want to? It gets them off? Oh fuck me!"

Giselle nodded, grinning brightly as a slow erotic music started in the background. Her pink-haired concubine rose to her feet, flipped back her curly bright hair and began to sway in her steampunk outfit to the rhythm. Rafel had no idea where the music was coming from but it sure as fuck made the mind veer in only one direction.

Sex.

You could think of a million different positions with a song like that.

[🎶 Yoga – Janelle Monae.]

One of the lovely girls climbed up the silver platform. She, was in a naughty nun outfit and at her ascent, a long phallic and silvery pole slowly rose from an opening below. It rose to tower above her. Sexily, she touched the cool pole and wrapped her fingers around it. The way she handled it made Lord Byron forget it was a metal stick and not a pulsing cock.

He adjusted in his seat and coughed, staring between the pole girl and the porcelain doll dancing for him.

Rafel and Cora were struck with the full and savage beauty of their own shared entertainer. She was an islander. It was obvious in her foreign dark eyes, catty and spicy. Her curves were just the way Rafel liked on his women—fat ass, perky tits. Cora also. Her skin was a rich shade of chocolate and her color caught the seduction red lighting perfectly. It amplified the bust of her displayed cleavage, the wealth of her thick brown hair and her ample thighs, and her wide hips.

She wiggled close to Rafel. She bent at her waist, almost touching her toes and giving Cora a prime view of her lush ass. Rafel smiled when his dear Corazón's riparian eyes widened.

The pole girl up on the burnished platform had dropped her monial gown and now stood only in sexy black lingerie and a nun's immaculate veil.

She grabbed the pole with both hands. She grabbed it hard. She spun on it. She rubbed the hollow of her ass cheeks into it.

Lord Byron whistled loudly.

"Yeah, let's have some fucking ass."

Snickers erupted in the lounge. Smiling, the girl entertainers began pulling off their clothes and baring spotless skin. They allowed hands to roam and feel and thread and squeeze. Eventually, everyone was engrossed in their dancers.

The concubine dancing for Rafel and Cora was a gorgeous mulatta. She twerked her ass to the soft music and Cora couldn't resist the urge to feel the plump weight she was packing.

"Mmm, yes. Shake that ass. Shake it good!" Cora appreciated.

The beautiful island honey turned and mounted Cora's long legs. She spread apart her delicious brown thighs and straddled her. Cora spanked her as she kept twerking. She loosened the straps on her bra behind and let the tiny material fall away. She cupped up her breasts and began riding Cora through her white pants.

Cora clutched to her hips and breathed hard.

Rafel was watching them silently from the opposite end of the maroon sofa. The pole girl, a scorching Blond, climbed down the raised platform and moved for Rafel. Keeping his eyes, she slowly pushed apart his legs and sat in his lap.

Then she grinded against him.

She was so damn good at it Rafel reckoned she had to be a [Serpent shifter].

He let her work his dick until he was charging like a bull. She dry humped him a while as they both watched Cora and the island girls. She had finally enchanted Cora until pulling one of her nude breasts into the wet heat of her mouth.

Cora sucked and played with the dark areolas.

Although the night stretched further into the sinful abyss of lust and the choking smell of sex never did leave the small room, all those invited to the strip party were respectful enough of their entertainers and didn't try to pull a 'happy ending'—even Lord Bryon.

The girls danced and entertained them deep into the night. Rafel utterly enjoyed his dancer. And eventually, the girls went fully nude. He smelled them in the cozy air. Cocks were sprung like pegs and pussies wet for the pegging. But everyone refrained and just clung to touching and massaging. But no fucking.

Rafel guessed denying that so much passion was in itself a turn-on. Self-denial was to a masochist utter sexual pleasure. The paradox of it.

Around the early hours of morning, Rafel and Cora found themselves just about the only ones who had not given an excuse to go have a good fuck in the nearest bedroom or a quickie in a bathroom stall. They excused themselves from their concubine, heavily tipping her in gold ingots.

Dawn was just about nigh when they managed to gather the drunken messes of Ravenna and Annabelle of a sleepy wooze into the large buggy. Aya Naamah was only clearheaded because she was a Succubus: she didn't intoxicate the same rate as other factions. Hellions had a very different metabolism. Plus, she had just sucked the life out of some guy in the gardens.

The poor lad had been left breathless, face collapsed into the flowers, by a smoking demoness whose horns and puckered lips had left him like he'd run a mile. Her blowjob had felt like the end of the world.

As Menelaus drove the company of Rafel and his women back to the welcome host of Emberfall's alpine mist, Rafel turned to Corazón and smiled.

"Are you feeling what I'm feeling, my dear?"

"If you mean the urge to rip off your clothes and fuck you, Your Grace...then yes. I am feeling what you're feeling," Cora replied with a grin of hers.

Rafel leaned back in the moving carriage and laughed in rumbles. He had a great bassy laugh.

"That was sure some entertainment."

Cora humphed. "I prefer to call it foreplay. At least for some of us."

Rafel laughed again. They fell silent, and remained so until they pulled up to the gothic gargoyles staring out high from the Manor's dark turrets.

In the waking streets of the Capitol, doused in the fresh ending of the first day of feasting, General Byron halted his buggy driver by the closest clandestine whorehouse. He all but flew into the place and grabbed the nearest harlot wet off her morning shower.

Her dampness didn't matter. In her pink towel, he dragged down to his cock. Her mouth was full of hot and heavy soldier before she could even greet him. And then he proceeded to pull off her wrapper for some hardcore shagging.

As he, in shivers sought out the welcome heat of hot pussy, Lord Byron remarked oddly,

"Strippers? What a bunch of fucking cock teases!"