The Price of Fashion.

"Mistress, if I can have a moment of your attention?"

Dark Queen Tenebra, ruler of the Bleakstone Pinnacle, Consort of Shadows, Lady of Ash and Fire, Ruler-in-Exile and a thousand other titles, most of which she had invented herself, turned her head towards the speaker and frowned.

"Francis, is that you?"

A heavy, long-suffering sigh echoed out of the gloom.

"Of course, Mistress. Who else would it be?" The speaker replied. His voice was tired and droll, the voice of someone who had long ago become used to the hundreds of little indignities and oddities that came with acting as a self-certified Evil Queen's head manservant and majordomo.

"Oh, well, no-one, I suppose." Tenebra said. "But the helmet makes it a little difficult to see, you understand."

Francis certainly did understand. A week and a half ago, Tenebra had been inspired by a rather striking full moon, given herself a new title, and had immediately demanded an entire slew of new outfits to entertain herself with while she came up with a suitable new Nefarious Plot to conquer the world. She stood, her tall, slender body surrounded by an awkward frame of miniature gantries and stepladders, being dressed by a gaggle of squabbling kobolds in one of those same outfits - elbow-gloves and absurdly high-heeled boots that stretched up to the mid-thigh of her long, pale legs, cut from a glossy, black material that clung to her body like an oilslick, a billowing robe of deepest blue, studded with crystals so as to like the starts in a midnight sky and cut in such a way as to show off more than it hid, and the helmet. Yes, the helmet. Francis was used to catering to his mistress' love of showy outfits, but even he had done a double-take when she'd designed something that left her completely unable to see.

"But just think of how it'll look!" Tenebra had said, her sharp, aquiline face alive with excitement as she pointed to the paper. "Think of the impression it shall make upon the next band of poor, doomed souls to lay siege to my castle! I would have but to walk upon the battlements, and every one of my attackers would see me, and know my grace and power!"

And then she'd let out one of her patented Evil Laughs - which, Francis had to admit, were appropriately long and impressive, with just the right amount of crazed cackle at the end - while he wondered if she had, for one moment, thought about how it would mark her out for every single crossbowman with a good eye. Or that she might just walk straight off the edge.

But she was the Evil Queen, and he was just the faithful Orc manservant, so she'd gotten her way. And now there she was, wearing a helmet comprised of little more than a hood cut from the same fabic as her dress, hiding a support brace for the huge disk of thin, pale marble that covered the top half of her face, exquisitely worked to resemble the surface of the moon, awkwardly turning this way and that as she tried to follow the kobolds circling around her, adoring her outstretched limbs with the little pieces of silver jewelry he had selected for her.

"I understand, mistress. But before you go to see our guests, I feel we should have a quick discussion about the state of our treasury." Francis said. He started to extend the clipboard he habitually carried towards here, then, realizing she couldn't see it and probably wouldn't have looked anyway, withdrew it. "The surrounding villages have been less than forthcoming with the tithes you demanded. They sent several of your...finest minions," he shot a disdainful look at the squawking, idiot Kobolds, "back empty-handed, and in some cases, rather badly beaten as well. No fatalities, though." He flicked through his long list of notes and reports. "Apparently the villagers felt too sorry for them for that."

"They're only minions." Tenebra sighed. "What do you expect? If they weren't minions, they might upstage me." She took a hesitant step forwards, teetering for a moment as she tried to adjust to the ungainly weight of her helmet atop the narrow points of her stileto boots without the supporting scaffolding, but managed to catch herself, arms outstretched for balance.

"Nevertheless," Francis continued. "As a result, the treasury is, sadly, somewhat empt-"

He was cut off by the sudden, scurrying arrival of another pack of Kobolds, these ones escorting one Grugah, of the hobgoblin gate-guards, which threw himself to the ground in an appropriately self-abasing way. Tenebra pretended not to notice his arrival, preening her neat, shoulder-length black hair, but couldn't entirely hide the way her eyes kept flicking excitedly towards the guard. After several painful seconds, she eventually spoke.

"Ah! You have a message for me, then? Out with it, before I flay you for your impudence!" She said, putting on her best Evil Taskmistress voice. The hobgoblin quailed before her, doing an equally good impression of a terrified minion as it spoke.

"Spare this one's miserable life, mistress! Mistress' guests have arrived. They have been taken to the guests chambers, as mistress instructed, and await her audience there!"

The expression of delight that flashed over Tenebra's face lasted only a heartbeat before her cruel, ice-queen act reasserted itself, but Grugah and Francis had both been serving the woman for a long time. They shared a weary, knowing look with one another as she swept from the room, the long, trailing sleeves of her gown knocking half a dozen candlesticks with their atmospherically pre-dribbled candles to the floor in her wake. Tenebra wasn't, really, a particularly bad person to work for - Francis doubted she was actually all that evil - but it was like living and working on a theater set with a mildly incompetent lead actress, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He sighed, ordered Grugah back to his post, and hurried after her.

A queen, Tenebra thought, must be confident. Especially an Evil Queen. She must be always calm, composed, perfectly poised, unfazed by nothing. Which was why, even though her exquisite new helmet left her quite unable to see, she moved through the corridors at her best arrogant stride. She knew the layout of her castle like the back of her hand anyway, and only occasionally stumbled - well, fell over once, and had to be righted by the pack of Kobolds which followed in her wake, their scaly little hands grasping at her thighs and backside as they pushed her back to her feet. She didn't begrudge them that, so long as they weren't too obvious about it. The little devils worked terribly hard, after all, and she was quite used to being manhandled by creatures far larger than they.

Sadly, perfect poise and an arrogant stride can only do so much when faced with a large, closed door. Tenebra knew it was there and approached the end of the corridor with one hand outstretched, trying not to make it too obvious she was groping for the handle, only to find that she was about a foot too far to the left and walk straight into it. There was a echoing bang and a yelp as Tenebra slammed face-first into the wood, stumbled backwards clutching at her aching nose, teetered on heels that had become tangled in the dragging train of her robe, and finally collapsed backwards in a flailing heap.

She lay there for a moment, an ungainly pile of pale skin, starry fabric and gleaming boots topped with a sculpted moon - which, miraculously, had survived both the impact and the fall unharmed - before yelling, with as much dignity as she could, "FRANCIS!"

The orc came around the corner a moment later, his lips pursed around his short tusks. He sighed, tapped his pencil against his clipboard in annoyance, then hurried over to help his mistress up.

"I see to have suffered a minor wardrobe malfunction, Francis." Tebebra said, as the Orc untangled the hem of her dress from her heels.

"Just a minor one, mistress." He replied, sliding his hands under her armpits and helping her back to her feet. He remembered, with a wry spark of amusement, how nervous he'd been when his clan dumped him off on her as 'tribute'. Tenebra was undeniably beautiful, fine-boned and aristocratic, and he'd felt a gut-wrenching mixture of arousal and anxiety whenever he had to put his hands on her. Of course, nearly a decade later, he'd seen so much of her - whether that was helping her dress, standing on-hand while she laid with one of her inhuman lovers, or simply being around her while she wore one of her more revealing outfits - any sort of attraction he might have felt had been well and truly burned out. Tenebra, for her part, had never made a move on him either. He suspected she simply saw him as another minion - just one more part of the elaborate pantomime she had built around herself.

Tenebra turned her head back and forth, the great marble disk nearly colliding with one of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, as if trying to work out where Francis was as he fussed around her, rearranging her dress and making sure her boots and gloves hadn't gotten too badly scuffed.

"Well?" She asked, brushing herself down, undoing the bulk of Francis' hard work re-arranging her dress in a few careless strokes. "How do I look?"

"Your dark beauty would outshine the sun itself," Francis replied drily, the words coming out on rote. "If only it had the courage to challenge you for the pure night sky."

"Wonderful." Tenebra purred. "Shall we meet our guests, then?"

"I'll get the door." Francis sighed.

Tenebra's castle rarely, if ever, adhered to a single aesthetic principle. At its core, it was the sort of towering edifice that brought to mind words like 'brooding' or 'gothic', encrusted with all the skulls, gargoyles, and entirely superflous spikes one would expect to see upon an Evil Fortress. The decor within, however, was in a constant state of flux; no sooner had the overworked teams of goblins and kobolds torn out the last set of furnishings than their mistress would be struck with a new vision, and would demand that they started over. As Francis flung the doors open, neatly sidling behind one so Tenebra could sweep impressively through without walking straight into him, it seemed like the only points of relative sanity were Tenebra's private tower, his personal quarters, and the guest rooms. They were laid out for simplicity and comfort - thick, warm carpets, soft beds, and ever-burning fireplaces courtesy of Tenebra's own magical skill.

As Tenebra entered, the two figure within rose to greet her. They were spiderfolk; a male and female, built like centuars; their humanoid torsos were slender, their skin a pale grey and studded with plates of dark chitin across the back and forearms arms. Bloated black abdomens were held aloft by six long, arachnid limbs which clicked and skittered upon the floor as they turned to face her, and the mandibles which flanked their lower jaws spread in an expression of greeting. Neither wore clothes; the male's chest was broad and attractive, and the female made no effort to hide the shapely curve of her breasts. The pair bowed, bending their forelegs so their torsos dipped towards her, and waited.

Silence echoed.

"Are they bowing?" Tenebra muttered, glancing back and forth under her helmet.

"Indeed, Mistress. Very humbly." Francis whispered back. The spiderfolk shared a look with their secondary eyes, then rose at Tenebra's gesture.

They introduced themselves as Tzarit and Zarina, a brother-sister pair who traveled the roads, crafting and selling clothes spun from their own silk. Zarina was, or at least, claimed to be an expert tailor, while her brother handled the monetary ends of the business. Francis had, on Tenebra's instruction, brought them to the castle and supplied them with a number of his Mistress' designs. Zarina in particular was especially animate; scuttling around Tenebra, plucking at her robes, testing the material and examining the stitching, all the while rattling out a constant, non-stop barrage of chatter.

"Mn. Elasian silk, yes?" She said, rubbing a fold of material between her forefinger and thumb, all eight eyes peering at the cloth. "Not bad. Takes colour well. Fragile though. Ours better, tougher also, doubles as armour." The spiderfolk's head twitched up, a grin - or what Francis assumed to be a grin, by the way her mandibles twitched and spread - on her face. Tenebra did her best to follow the spiderfolk's voice as it circled her, the great marble moon rattling precariously against the small chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a bemused smile upon the visible portions of her face.

"Well, we shall see. You have samples, I assume?" Tenebra asked. Zarina's slim fingers were hard and chitinous, and the feeling of them brushing against the bare portions of her skin as she examined her dress, slipping under the fabric to lay against the pale flesh of her thigh, or her midriff, or on one occasion, the underside of her breast, had begun to kindle a familiar warmth in her belly. She squirmed as the inadvertent touches ceased, the spiderfolk backing off with a clatter of arachnid legs.

"Samples? Mn. Yes. Can show." There was a soft, surrous sound. Grasping the sides of her helmet, Tenebra carefully removed it and passed it to Francis, who scurried forwards ti take it before withdrawing back to his corner. He shot the ornate headpiece a foul look and dumped it on the ground. Tenebra had worn the thing for barely an hour, and she had forgotten about it already. Instead, she watched as Zarina reached behind her with her hindmost limbs and began to draw long, whispy strands of webs from her twitching spinnerets.

The spiderfolk's fingers flashed back and forth in a blur as her rear limbs passed the webbing up, weaving it into a broad sheet which she presented for Tenebra's approval. The Dark Queen took it, playing the shimmering gossamer between her fingers; it was unbelievably soft and light, like a breath of air, slightly tacky upon one side and almost completely sheer. She could already picture how she would look wearing it; something completely figure-hugging, just opaque enough to blur her most intimate spots while leaving the curves of her body on full display, edged with a wider, lace-like weave...she nibbled at her bottom lip, feeling a hot bloom of excitement running through her, imagining the way the Heroes would stare, transfixed by her Dark Majesty, as she descended the stairs towards them...

She quickly outlined her vision to Zarina, who nodded eagerly, making suggestions and and explaining the different kinds of web she could spin. Tzarit remained silent, arms crossed in front of his chest, a faint expression of amusement across his chiseled face as the two women talked. Eventually, a decision was reached, and Zarina clicked her fingers eagerly.

"All done. Natural colours, no dyes. Hrm. Can begin now, if Mistress likes." The spiderfolk grinned and patted her bulging abdomen. "Have all materials here."

"Excellent." Tenebra rolled the word around in her mouth, drawing it out and steepling her fingers. "I do like efficiency among my minions. Do you see this, Francis? Neither failure nor excuses. You could learn a lot from her."

"Of course, Mistress." Francis sighed and looked down at his clipboard, and shook his head. He could tell her, of course, but experience had taught him that she wouldn't listen. She never listened when it mattered, and at times, he wondered if that was deliberate. After all, how many children's stories end with the Evildoer coming undone through their own pride?

"I will, of course, remain here to observe the weaving process." Tenebra added. Zarina let out a high-pitched, rattling laugh.

"Weave is laid upon the body." She said. "I spin around you. Will need to disrobe."

Tenebra's eyebrows raised, giving the spiderfolk a sharp, questioning look. Then she shrugged, peeled off her gloves, stepped out of her stiletto heels, and shrugged the billowing dress she wore away from her slender, naked body. Tenebra had always gone to great lengths to make herself as physically appealing as possible; Evil, as everyone knows, is sexy, and it would be a poor Evil Queen who was unable to tempt the dashing hero with promises of fleshy abandon. Her body was toned and sculpted; the curves of her breasts and hips, while not excessively large, were neat and well-formed; her limbs long and clean, her skin perfectly smooth and hairless. But most striking of all was her confidence; as Tenebra stepped free from the pool of midnight cloth around her feet, she did so with no hint of shame or modesty, presenting herself for the approving gazes of the two spiderfolk like a flawless, marble statue being revealed to a waiting crowd. Tzarit perked up immediately, rising from the lazy half-crouch he had been resting in and letting his eyes play greedily over her form, while Zarina skittered back and forth in excitement, already pulling strands of webbing from her spinnerets.

Francis, for his part, simply glared at the discarded outfit and ground his teeth in irritation.

Tenebra stepped forwards, her arms spread out at her sides so the female could work. She could feel her heart pounding, both from the giddy, childlike excitement at having a new garment created literally around her, and from her brother's hungry gaze. She matched it evenly, letting her own eyes roam over his strange, inhuman features; the strong, lithe muscles of his smooth chest, his long, lean legs as they pawed eagerly at the ground, the way his wiry black hair framed his sharp, proud face. Finally, she let her eyes work her way back to Tzarit's face, and gave him a coy, teasing look. I see you, Tenebra thought, and you see me. She had, in her career as a certified Evil Queen, lain with a great many nonhuman creatures - either for purpose or for pleasure - but never a spiderfolk, and Zarina's accidental caresses had left her wondering what those hard, black hands would feel like upon her body proper.

A moment later, she had her answer, as Zarina began to spin. She moved in circles, drawing long sheets of fine silk from her hindquarters and laying them upon the Queen's body. Her hands were smooth but hard, the tips of her fingers sharp, but she worked with unparalleled delicacy; the warm, sticky strands of gauzy material would glide over her naked body like a lover's breath, the tacky specks of glue tugging gently as they adhered to her body, the gentle stimulation of her body only fired further by the hard little points of Zarina's fingers as she moulded it to shape. As a sheet was laid across her breasts, Tenebra gasped as the sticky silk pulled at her nipples, the little buds quickly rising to stiffness at the sudden contact. Her pale skin began to flush with her growing arousal, and Tenebra shifted unconsciously, her legs spreading a little as the first drops of wetness began to gather upon her lips.

Zarina scuttled behind her, running her hands first down Tenebra's flanks, her fingers coming a hair's breadth away from cupping her pert, smooth ass, before working their way back up her body, fingertips brushing over her tight midriff, then riding up to cup her breasts, moulding the webbing tight against her skin as it went. Tenebra let out low, indulgent sigh as the spiderfolk's hands lingered upon her bust, squeezing the flesh as she sculpted the gauzy material around them, pulling it up into a lacy spiderweb pattern around the top of her cleavage. It was almost a disappointment when her hands began to wander south again, her sharp fingertips pulling and plucking at the webbing - which now clung to Tenebra's body like a thin fog in the shape of a fine, hair-thin corset - working delicate, crisscrossing patterns into the material, pulling and tugging until it fitted like a glove.

Tenebra let out a long breath, one that she didn't even know she was holding, as the female spiderfolk stepped back and began circling her once more, peering at her work and drawing a new type of silk from her spinnerets. The bodice tingled on her as it shunk into place, the strands losing their tackiness as they dried, but clinging to her like a hazy grey second skin. Her toes curled into the thick carpets, and a single bead of wetness began, ever so slowly, crawling down her inner thigh. She remained almost completely motionless; poise and dignity, she told herself, were essential qualities for an Evil Queen, even if her thoughts kept wandering back to Tzarit's strange physiology.

"Almost done, mistress." Zarina chirped, her mandibles twitching as she worked the latest mass of fibers into long, smooth sheets. She rattled off a string of words in her clicking, buzzing native tongue, prompting Tzarit to retrieve a long needle from their supplies and pass it over to her. The male cast a craned his head in as he did so, close enough that Tenebra could feel the heat of his breath through the sheer fabric wrapped around her torso. It really did leave very little to the imagination, she thought, a faint smirk creeping across her face as Tzarit drew back, still watching her with his secondary eyes.

The reason for the needle became obvious as Zarina went back to work. The new sheets of silk would make up the skirts of Tenebra's dress, and lacked the stickiness of the ones which had crafted her bodice; they were smooth and cool against her bare thighs, whispering back and forth over her skin as the spiderfolk threaded the needle with a single silk fiber and began weaving them into place. As she did so, Zarina carefully teased holes into the fabric with her forelegs, to give the impression of a thick, tangled cobweb. Despite her poise, Tenebra couldn't help but gasp as one of Zarina's chitinous legs penetrated the fabric and brushed along the top of her innermost thigh, a hair away from sliding along the damp line of her slit. The spiderfolk must have realized, because she grinned slyly up at Tenebra and allowed the limb to linger there for a few agonizing seconds, cool and hard and yet very much alive, gently sliding back and forth against her outermost lip before finally withdrawing, leaving the other womans legs weak and shaking.

As Tenebra regained her composed, Zarina quickly tidied up her stitching and made a few final adjustments to the the skirt, then stepped backwards and bowed. "Work is complete, mistress. Is all to your liking?"

Poise and dignity, Tenebra reminded herself, as she turned to the dressing-mirror and examined herself. The constant little stimulations as Zarina wove upon her naked body, Tzarit's hungry, approving gaze, and her own simmering excitement threatened to overwhelm her; it would be unseemly for an Evil Queen to show too much gratitude to her minions, whether that gratitude was verbal, or more...physical.

"It shall suffice." She said, examining the patterns etched upon the bodice. "I may be interested in commissioning more work from you in the future. Those who serve me well shall, of course, be rewarded, and I would be willing to offer you a place within this household if you agreed to work for me exclusively."

Francis, silent and ignored in the corner, winced. Tenebra and Tzarit began negotiations, haggling over the cost of the first garment, the manner of their long-term employment, and a dozen other little things, and he knew he was going to have to step in soon. At one point, the idea of having matching garments woven for her staff was raised; the mischievous looks Zarina kept shooting him left the Orc in little doubt that she was already undressing - and probably redressing - him in her head. Finally, when more concrete figures began to be thrown back and forth, he double-checked his clipboard and stepped forwards.

"A thousand apologies, most magnificent jewel of the night, but the treasury is quite empty."

Silence echoed, and Francis was suddenly aware of all eighteen other eyes in the room staring at him. He sighed.

"I tried to tell you before our guests," he gestured to the pair of spiderfolk, "arrived. We simply cannot afford everything discussed." Francis tapped his pencil against his clipboard, before adding. "In truth, I doubt we can even afford the garment."

"Francis," Tenebra replied, her voice dangerously calm. "We shall be having words about this later. Now." She turned back to the pair of spiderfolk. "This leaves us in a difficult situation, doesn't it?"

"Work has been done!" Zarina trilled, mandibles twitching. "Work must be paid!"

Tzarit held up a hand to silence his sister, his eyes never once leaving Tenebra's face, as if waiting to see what she would do. Tenebra simply blinked, a faint smile creeping across her haughty face, and began to peel the dress off her body. The bodice was slightly stretchy, as if elasticated; the silk fibers stretched as she slid her fingers under the rim and began to work it down, sliding it over her breasts, sashaying her hips from side to side as it fell lower, creeping first across her midriff and then over her mound, finally pooling around her angles in a soft, grey tangle.

"It would be wrong," she said, her voice soft, "to wear something I do not own, no? Perhaps it would be easier to continue negotiations like this."

Tenebra stood just at the edge of the male spiderfolk's reach, her hands imperiously upon her hips, her pale body glowing in the magical firelight. She could almost feel the male spiderfolk's desire to reach out for her, to place his hands upon the body that had dangled, teasingly, in front of him for so long as his sister wove. There was a faint, wet sound, and Tenebra felt a flutter of amusement at the sight of a few pearls of liquid dripping from a slit in Tzarit's underbelly.

"As your sister says, her peerless work should not go unrewarded." Tenebra continued. She began to sashay forward, slowly drawing closer to the male spiderfolk. His torso was pleasingly muscled without being overbuilt, but atop his six long legs and bulging abdomen, he towered over her.  She stepped into the space between his forelimbs, almost close enough to feel the heat of his body, her heart hammering in his chest. "Surely we can come to an agreement? I would not dream of seeing her unpaid, but perhaps..."

She reached out and placed a hand upon Tzarit's chest, feeling his twin heartbeats - one, human and fluttering as quickly as his own, the other a slow, dull throb echoing up from his abdomen - beating behind his grey skin. Tzarit shifted back and forth, his legs pawing at the ground, mandibles flexing anxiously. Tenebra took another step forwards, wrapping her arms around his lithe torso and crushing herself against him, letting him feel the soft curves of her breasts pressing into him.

"...perhaps we could come to an arrangement?" She said. Tenebra could feel the power of the spiderfolk's body; the strength of his muscles, the heavy weight of his abdomen as he pushed back against her embrace, his hard, chitinous hands brushing through her hair and across her scalp. He could tear her apart, impale her through the chest with one of his spear-like forelimbs, and yet - she slid one of her hands down, her fingers lingering for a moment at the point where the grey flesh of his torso met the hard black plates of his abdomen, then explored further, reaching under him to brush her fingers against the thick, hot, dripping object she found there.

It would be an extremely poor Evil Queen, Tenebra reckoned, who wasn't willing and able to indulge in a outright seduction to get what she wanted. Never mind that she and Tzarit had been eyeing each other almost ever since she'd pulled her helmet off, and that she'd quite happily have taken him simply for the raw, carnal satisfaction of it; to take their natural urges and manipulate them to her favour, to make sure she got the better side of the deal, was a sublime pleasure.

"Will still need paid." Tzarit gasped, his fingers clenching and grasping at air as Tenebra began to stroke the slick organ in her hand, exploring its strange, ribbed shape like a girl with a new toy. "But can...can, defer payment. Grant extension in return for..." He let out a long, rasping grasp, and Tenebra felt a hot slug of stringy liquid flowing across her fingers. "S-services rendered."

"Mn. An arrangement which suits us both, I think." Tenebra purred. She kissed Tzarit's chest, lightly, drawing her tongue down the length of his torso as she knelt before him, her mind ablaze with how best to take him. The spiderfolk's cock - which was, as she had felt, weirdly ribbed and striated, with a strange curve to it that terminated in an upwards-pointing head, was set just too far back on his underbelly to make for an easy penetration. Perhaps, she thought, she should send for some of the harnesses to be sent up from her dungeon, or request one of the spiderfolk spin something to keep her held in the right position...but as another wad of thick, warm precome oozed from the tip, Tenebra decided she didn't want to wait that long. She ran her fingers along Tzarit's length, gathering up the fluid that collected upon it, and brought it to her lips; leaning backwards, she made sure the spiderfolk watched as she slid it into her mouth, sucking her fingers clean of the strange, sweet-salty wetness. Her own body ached as well; she longed to discover how Tzarit's cock would feel as it eased into her, whether the upwards curve of his prick would rub against her most sensitive inner spots, how the many ridges and soft plates would pull and tug at her lips as he thrust in and out...her cunt twinged needily, her wetness dribbling freely as she let her mind wander.

Tenebra sat down beneath the spiderfolk, stretching her legs luxuriously out to the side and slipping a pair of fingers into her heat. She was already hot and ready, and her fingers sank easily up to the knuckles in her tight, wet folds, drawing a deep, throaty sigh from her. She wriggled around, getting herself into a comfortable position as she began to frig herself, and gently pulled Tzarit's cock towards her. The spiderfolk took the hint and stepped forwards, his legs coming down around the human woman like the bars of a cage, his weird, dripping phallus bumping against her eager lips. Tenebra began slowly, holding it by the base and just exploring; licking, kissing, running her tongue along the many ribs and ridges, tasting his taste and wallowing in the eroticism of the situation. She was a Queen, a powerful sorceress, a dark lady of the night feared and adored by her subjects - and there she was, curled beneath the spiderfolk's bulk, lapping and nuzzling at his cock like a harem girl. And yet, Tzarit was hers - her subject, to enjoy and be pleasured by, there to serve her just as his sister had. She felt the spiderfolk's length pulse as another spurt of precome leaked forth, dripping across her bust in a sticky sheen.

Francis just sighed, shaking his head as his mistress went to work, taking Tzarit's length greedily into her mouth. The scene stirred something in him - he doubted any man could watch Tenebra's couplings and not be - but it was a simple reflex, nothing more, and he wondered if she had planned this from the moment she had laid eyes upon the spiderfolk. A soft clatter of legs pulled him from his thoughts, as Zarina's delicate hands wrapped themselves around his shoulders.

"Lonely?" She purred, her slender fingers teasing around the neck of his shirt. Francis grimaced and tried to push her away, but the spiderfolk's grip was surprisingly strong. He could feel the head of her breasts next to his face, and very deliberately refused to turn towards her.

"Not particularly." He said, with half an eye on the scene as Tenebra worked her lips around Tzarit's cock, tipping her head back and swallowing - though whether that was to down a mouthful of his precome or to take him into her throat, Francis didn't even begin to guess. "Besides, someone's going to need to clean up the mess when your brother finishes."

Little sparks of pleasure surged through Tenebra's body as she dipped her fingers in and out of her passage, setting a slow, deep pace, as if she was laying with one of her larger lovers, her ministrations easing the needy ache that had been building within her throughout the evening into the full, lusty heat of arousal. The spiderfolk's cock slipped free from her lips for a moment with a wet sound, strings of thick fluids spattering over her chin as she stroked the throbbing, oozing phallus, catching her breath before guiding it back into her mouth. She tipped her head back and swallowed, her lips creeping further and further down the shaft as the tapered end worked its way into her throat, her tongue rubbing back and forth around the base. The thing seemed to produce a near-endless supply of liquid, which dripped from her face and breasts in thick strings to puddle messily upon the floor. She gasped and shuddered around the cock in her throat as she coaxed herself to a small orgasm; the sudden pulse of satisfaction doing little more than pushing her towards something much further upon the horizon.

Sunk too low for Tzarit's humanoid hands, his forlegs grasped and pawed at her, caressing her bare back with a delicacy she might not have expected from so large a creature, the hard, chitinous points nevertheless keeping her in place. As if I'd leave, she thought, letting the thick, hot piece of flesh slide a little out of her throat, the backflow of fluid dripping messily from her lips as she flicked her tongue back and forth across the pointed tip. The spiderfolk's breathing was becoming increasingly heavy and rasping, beads of sweat working their way down the channels of his tight musculature, to gather upon the shifting plates of carapace. He wasn't going to last much longer, Tenebra thought, purring with delight. The spiderfolk's legs were shaking and sagging, as if he was having trouble staying upright, and she could feel the thick, fleshy phallus in her mouth beginning to twitch and throb harder. She began frigging herself all the faster as well, her fingers plunging in and out of her hot, slick cunt, the base of her hand bumping against her clit as she drove herself towards her climax.

Tenebra had only a moment to prepare herself for the spiderfolk's ejaculation; Tzarit's whole body went as stiff as a rock, his legs click-clacking madly against the floor. His forelimbs pushed upon her shoulderblades, holding her in place as his heavy body swung forwards, driving his pulsating length into Tenebra's waiting mouth. For her part, Tenebra grabbed ahold of the spiderfolk's midleg with her free hand, hanging on for support as she drove her busy, questing fingers as deep into her heat as she could. Her legs shook as she masturbated, her body beginning to convulse as she reached the crest of her wave. And then, the beautiful length of flesh in her mouth gave one last, heavy jerk and came, flooding her mouth with pulse after pulse of hot, stringy seed. Tenebra tipped her head back on instinct and did her best to swallow as much as she could, but couldn't stop the thick, pungent fluid boiling back over her lips, splattering explosively against the spiderfolk's underbelly and the few inches of his cock outside of her mouth, coating the bottom half of her face with a wet sheen and oozing down across her already slick breasts. Tenebra's own orgasm came soon after, her eyes closed indulgently so as to better enjoy the feeling of lightning crackling through her sweat-streaked body as it shuddered and twitched beneath the spiderfolk, the warmth of Tzarit's seed as it pooled in her belly, the feeling of his cock as it started to shrink in her mouth. Her toes clenched madly into the thick carpet, and she hung limply from the spiderfolk's midleg, riding out the last waves of her climax.

Tzarit let out a thin gasp, pulled out of Tenebra's grip, and collapsed onto the abdomen in a tangle of sprawling legs. His hair was lank with sweat and his eyes - all eight of them - rolled madly, as if he was trying to focus on something, his mandibles hanging slack. Tenebra, a wicked smirk upon her face simply stood, licking her fluids from her fingers as if she were licking at the juices of a particularly sweet fruit.  Between their fangs and mandibles, she doubted spiderfolk mouths were particularly suited for oral sex, and she felt a vicious thrill at the idea of being the first to sample Tzarit's length. She could feel his seed gathering to drip from her nipples, oozing down the cleft between her breasts to streak down her midriff and pool in her bellybutton. All the while, she held herself with the same confidence - near arrogance, in fact - that she always did, as if she was holding court in front of a thwarted party of Heroes.

"Services rendered." She purred, licking her lips, delighting in his taste upon her. "As I said, I ensure my minions are well-rewarded. Francis!"

Tenebra clicked her fingers. The Orc disentangled himself from Zarina and stepped forward, his clipboard ready. "Mistress?" He asked.

"Dispatch the Legions of Evil. Tell them they are to demand tribute from every town within my territory, and they aren't to take no for an answer. Be very specific about that. They may indulge in some looting, burning, and low-level malice if they need to make their point."

"Low level malice." Francis repeated back, taking notes as he went. "Anything else? A few maidens ravished, perhaps?"

"Mn. Only if they want to be. We're collecting tribute, not inspiring terror." Tenebra replied. "And have that mess cleaned up. If our business is concluded - " she glanced back and forth between the two spiderfolk, one still dazed on the floor, the other grinning like a madwoman - "then I shall retreat to bathe."

"Excellent idea, Mistress." Francis said. Tenebra carefully plucked the spidersilk dress from the floor, folding it and tucking it under one arm to ensure it was kept clean from the sticky seed still coating her body, and without so much as bothering to re-dress in her original clothes, turned to leave. She reached the doors and paused, turning back to give the spiderfolk one last look.

"The offer for continued employment, of course, remains." She said, a sly smile on her thin lips. "Though, I now feel I may find tasks for you both, should you accept."

The door slammed behind her, leaving a third-grade Nefarious Laugh lingering in her wake.

Being evil was so much fun.