REND

Amber Deen Leska

 

Amber Deen Leska rubbed her throat.

For a moment, she panicked that it was deformed. But that was silly. She knew women could do some wild stuff with their throats. She wondered how the size of Blanchette’s tongue compared to—Deen shook her head.

Don’t think that!

The lightheadedness from arousal was getting to her. Shamefully degenerate thoughts wandered her mind. Deen didn’t know the size of Blanchette’s tongue, and she didn’t need to know, but one thing was for sure, it was really flexible. She swallowed, still feeling the sensation of her throat stretching in ways it never had before.

Blanchette leaned forward, angling her snout down so she could come closer. “Grroarr rogh?”

“No, I didn’t like it, you jerk,” Deen snapped, understanding Blanchette’s growls from tone alone. She coughed to bolster her point. “Why would I like getting my throat stretched? That was messed up what you did to me, Erind—I mean, Blanchette.”

Blanchette shrugged and stared straight into Deen’s eyes.

Deen squirmed under Blanchette’s intimidating gaze, scootching back over the granite countertop, breaking the contact of their lower bodies. She made squeaky noises as she inched away. She didn’t notice she had unabashedly ground her hips against Blanchette’s abs while they made out. And that was some unconventional making out that happened if it counted as one.

Embarrassment gripped Deen’s heart when she realized she had become wet down there. She could feel it. She couldn’t be mistaken about the sensation, the slimy stickiness when she moved.

She wanted to close her legs, but Blanchette was in the way. And she’d drawn attention if she did that.

Deen glanced down to check. There were some dark spots on her shorts, but they were from Blanchette’s saliva dripping down. There was none between her legs. She’d die of embarrassment if her wetness had seeped through. She’d throw herself out the window if it seeped and got on Blanchette’s bare midriff.

This should be the right time to end this, thought Deen, looking back up at Blanchette.

Actually, she never should’ve started this. And she should’ve stopped their nonsense challenge minutes ago. She shouldn’t have sat on the kitchen counter and let Blanchette do whatever. Most importantly, she shouldn’t have allowed Blanchette’s tongue in her mouth.

Many boundaries had been crossed.

Now, it was the point of no return.

So… why stop?

Deen didn’t break eye contact with Blanchette. Her lips parted as she breathed through her mouth, feeling the air flowing over where Blanchette’s tongue occupied moments ago. Her heart pounded, expectant and needy. Blanchette hadn’t removed her mask and transformed back to Erind yet.

Their game was still on.

Deen blinked. Another moment of lucidity. What am I doing? What has happened to me?

But any more coherent thought abruptly stopped when Blanchette raised a claw. Deen flinched but didn’t move back. The claw hooked onto the top of her shirt’s neckline. She gulped, guessing what would happen next.

“No, don’t do that,” said Deen. “I can take off my—”

She barely finished her sentence when Blanchette pulled down her claw, tearing her shirt open.

“Jeez, Eri—Blanchette,” Deen said, not bothering to cover herself. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Ghraargh?” Blanchette made that grunting noises again that Deen assumed were chuckles.

“Yeah, I really would’ve taken it off myself,” said Deen. “I’m not ashamed of anything. You’ll have to pay—I guess, Erind has to pay for my shirt.”

Deen sat straighter, thrusting her chest out, showing she was unbothered. The frayed halves of her shirt fell away, and her breasts popped free. She was proud of her body, and in her aroused state, she’d welcome anything Blanchette would do to her. She wanted more done to her.

And Deen got her wish.

Blanchette grabbed both of Deen’s breasts, wicked and harsh claws contrasting against Deen’s fair skin. Blanchette squeezed them, digging her claws into the bouncy flesh, just enough to cause pain but not wound.

Deen let out a sound that was half-yelp, half-moan.

Blanchette roughly groped Deen, intentionally running her fingers over the erect pink nipples as she squeezed and pulled the globes of marshmallows.

Deen could feel the blood rushing to her chest. She could feel her breasts swell in her arousal. Her heart pounded so hard that it echoed in her ears like bass drums. Her nipples were painfully sensitive—each flick of Blanchette’s fingers sent shockwaves through Deen’s body, gathering between her legs, causing another jolt coursing through her again.

She hadn’t felt like this ever! She laced her fingers behind Blanchette’s neck. If she didn’t hold on, she’d have splayed back on the counter.

“Erind… Erind…” she whimpered. She wasn’t making a mistake.

This wasn’t Blanchette. This was Erind in complete control and playing with her.

Somehow, Deen was proud that her friend had gained the confidence to be this assertive. Aggressive… But Deen was also very conflicted about her best friend intentionally doing this to her, kneading her breasts like an angry baker releasing her frustrations into the dough. The rough fabric of Blanchette’s gloves harshly rubbed Deen’s skin.

It was more uncomfortable than sensual, though that didn’t matter.

The thought of her best friend molesting her sent shivers up Deen’s flanks. The fire burned hotter between her legs as she realized her best friend wanted her this way. She could feel herself get wetter.

Erind’s right that I’m a weirdo, Deen thought. But it’s her fault for doing this to me. She pulled Blanchette’s head down. “Please lick me…” she whispered, partly scandalized at the words that left her mouth. She just wanted it so bad.

Blanchette obliged. Her slimy tongue met Deen’s bare skin.

“Oh my god, Erind…” Deen moaned as Blanchette slobbered all over her front.

The sight of a monster tongue coating her breasts with saliva, making the mounds gleam like glazing brushed on them, turned her on to new levels. Though forceful, the wide and long tongue was much gentler than Blanchette’s hands and claws. When it ran over her nipples, Deen squealed. The fangs of Blanchette’s wide open mouth grazing her skin accented the experience.

Deen pictured it was Erind doing it to her. She didn’t know why. She wanted to pull off Blanchette’s mask and have Erind continue.

Blanchette focused on Deen’s right nipple, twirling her tongue over it.

“That feels nice, Erind,” Deen whispered. She ran her fingers over Blanchette’s hood, settling on the ears growing out of it.

The ears were warm. Were they real? Deen thought they were just a design on the hood. They were soft and furry and comforting. She scratched behind them, hoping she’d make Blanchette feel good too.

“Good doggie… good doggie…” Deen whispered, fixating on Blanchette’s ears as her breasts jiggled and her nipples throbbed. She wanted more. She gently pushed Blanchette’s head down while rubbing her ears.

Blanchette’s tongue moved past her chest, reaching her stomach.

Deen leaned back, propping her body with her elbows on the cold counter. She tensed her core as Blanchette lowered herself without Deen pushing her. Erind wanted to play along. It was fascinating to see Blanchette’s tongue trace the cuts of her abs, the slimy saliva highlighting them like oil.

Blanchette continued slowly going down, looking up at her. Since Erind was in control, Deen knew what Blanchette would do next. Blanchette’s tongue circled her navel.

Deen’s breathing became more ragged in anticipation.

“Erind…” she said as memories of Erind inserting her finger into her navel returned to her. She smiled, recalling their banter about whether it was ‘inserting’ or merely ‘poking.’

This time, Blanchette drilled her tongue into Deen’s navel.

Deen’s entire body tensed. Uncontrollable shaking took over her legs. She had to wrap them around Blanchette to stop herself from kicking wildly. The shudders rose up her body as the dam of sensations broke.

She blacked out for a moment. It was too much.

When she came to after several seconds, she was staring at the ceiling. Her elbows had given way, and she was lying flat on the countertop.

Blanchette was still licking her stomach.

Deen reached out to push Blanchette further down. “Please…” she gasped. I’m so shameless.

But Blanchette swatted Deen’s hand and stopped licking.

“No!” Deen protested. “Why did you—”

A shadow covered Deen, followed by Blanchette’s row of fangs blotting out the ceiling. Blanchette had climbed the counter and was on all fours above Deen.

Blanchette bent down, brandishing her tongue.

“Be gentle this time,” Deen whispered. As much as she’d prefer Blanchette between her legs, she wasn’t complaining about whatever direction they’d go.

All her life, she was supposed to be a role model, the perfect daughter, the achiever. People looked up to her, guys considered her a goddess, and girls wanted to be like her. She hated being forced into the mold made by other people.

This… This was the ultimate rebellion.

Look at her now, about to make out with her best friend turned Adumbrae—several layers of forbidden. The catharsis from going against everything expected of her, adding in the pleasure, made it worth it. Consequences be damned.

“Don’t stick your tongue in,” said Deen. “Can we just do something normal… um, this isn’t normal. But, like, first, we should—”

But Blanchette wasn’t listening to her, probing Deen’s lips with her tongue.

“Oh my god, not again,” Deen groaned. And yet, she still willingly received the tongue entering her mouth.

This time she knew what to do. She calmed and relaxed her body. She opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out to make space, flattening it to the floor of her mouth. The fat invader easily slid to the back of her throat.

Deen breathed calmly as her throat stretched to accommodate the visitor. She felt her airways blocked. Blanchette wriggled her tongue violently. Deen jolted, gagging, and coughing while having that huge thing down her mouth. It hurt. She’d have an injured throat if she were a normal human. But she could take the pain.

Then Blanchette retrieved her tongue. The slimy thing went out of her mouth. Her throat contracted to its previous shape after being forcefully expanded.

“Bad dog…” was all Deen could say, gasping for air.

But Blanchette wasn’t done. Her tongue entered Deen’s mouth again and went in and out of her throat. Deen was stunned for a moment, trying to protest. She couldn’t speak. She knew what Blanchette was doing, but what was she supposed to do? Having gone this far already, she just accepted it.

And enjoyed it.

Deen rubbed her throat with her hand. It turned her on, feeling it bulge repeatedly as Blanchette’s tongue penetrated deep.

Deen knew what she was about to do was wrong, but she didn’t care anymore. Her conscious moments were fleeting; the sensations—both pain and pleasure—were too much that it was like she was drunk. Her throat continued to be stretched as she found it hard to breathe.

IdontcareIdontcareIdontcare was her mantra. Her free left hand, almost moving on its own, dove inside her shorts.

Her panties were incredibly drenched. The shock of how wet she had gotten bought half a second for her brain to catch up. She shouldn’t do this, not in front of her best friend. But her best friend shouldn’t be doing this to her either. And yet, here they were.

All reservations gone, Deen pushed her panties aside and played with herself. The first touch sent shockwaves across her body, and she almost passed out. She rubbed herself in rhythm with Blanchette’s tongue going in and out of her throat.

Barely seconds later, the shudders came again. Deen uttered a muffled cry, her mouth full of Blanchette’s tongue. This was the fastest she had came in her experience, and she savored every moment of it.

Then she relaxed, deflating on the table. She stared at the ceiling. Spent. Tired. She wanted to sleep.

She really would’ve gone to sleep were it not for the voice she heard next.

“What the hell, Deen?” Erind exclaimed.

Erind? Deen’s brain still booted up. Then she sat upright, covering herself. She subtly wiped the fingers of her left hand before crossing her arms across her chest. “Erind!” Deen shouted.

Her best friend was back, standing at the foot of the kitchen island with a perplexed expression. Erind held the Blanchette mask in her right hand. She tossed it in the air, and it faded away. “What were you doing?” she asked. “Were you playing with yourself?”

“I… I…” Deen couldn’t form any reply. The reality and gravity of what transpired returned to her, embarrassing her. Her cheeks and neck burned. She was definitely as red as a beetroot.

“Did you come?”

“I wasn’t doing—!”

“Yes, you were,” Erind said with a smirk. “I guess I win this round.”

“No,” whispered Deen.

“What? I win—”

“No, you lost.” Deen let her arms to her sides, no longer ashamed of her appearance. Why would she? She was Amber Deen Leska, and she always looked good.

“Huh?” Erind’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I came. Twice.” Deen stuck her tongue out. “I win.”