Apophic Scale

AnonMD Jan 28th, 2015 (edited) 2,205 Never
Not a member of Pastebin yet? Sign Up, it unlocks many cool features!
  1. The tavern, a place I'd frequented through my travels along the Southern Caravans. For no matter the language, a tongue wagged to the tune of a pint all the same. It was as good a venue as any for a man of song.
  3.      "Bard!" called a voice from the bar counter, a hooded figure with a tomato-hued chin waving my way. He was a man in form, but something within him suggested he was anything but. I departed the tavern stage to stand near this unworldly patron.
  5.      "Marhaban." I bowed.
  7.      "A caravaner? You use their tongue, this is good," the man stroked at a black mustache that hung under his nose, "You've heard of the djinn, surely?"
  9. Djinn, beings from another world who were captured in a war long ago and imprisoned within countless vaults for all eternity. Stories spread, of some freed djinn who walked among mortals to grant a single wish.
  12.      "I'm one such being, sir musician, and was most persuaded by your song. I ask you, what is it you desire?" he said, an unnerving smile cracking through his red skin.
  14. Wealth was a death sentence among my trade, the jingling of gold a calling for thieves and murderers. I'd no heart for nobility, and man was not a creature I'd partake in, regardless of his shade.
  16.      "A woman, something beyond an alley strumpet." I replied.
  18.      "A lay worth keeping is as rare a gift as any, I commend you," his smile widened, "Now, a simple girl wouldn't do for a performer as you... no, you'd most prefer something 'memorable'."
  20. The figure produced a roll of parchment, handing one end towards me, "Simply take the scroll, sir, and I'll see you rewarded with what is detailed within."
  22. I reached out, unthinkingly, the parchment glowing as my hand touched the crisp edges. The djinn man's eyes glowed under his hood, his smile itself glowing as the tavern seemed to fade away.
  24.      "Recite your prize, my friend." he twiddled his mustache, fading from my view. I stood upon what I could only describe as emptiness, only myself and the parchment its occupants. It was a short flick to reveal the contents of my scroll.
  26.      "Apophis."
  28. The blackness gave way to what looked like the inside of a cell, a single hole in a wall leading out.
  30.      "Lucky you, quite the lascivious little serpents they are. Ra delivers one unto me every morn, and I'd wondered what the fate of this one would be..." the djinn's voice echoed from the unknown.
  32.      "What trickery is this, djinn?" I retorted.
  34.      "You wound me so, sir. Did I not guarantee I would reward you with a memorable lay?" his snickering echoed off the stones, "Though, there's a bit of a catch if you hadn't realized."
  36. I sneered at the hole, unsure there to focus my discontent, "On with it, djinn, what would that be?"
  38.      "Quite simple, friend. That apophis and yourself are going to see who can outlast the other. To the victor goes the other, and to the defeated... well, I promised you a memorable lay regardless." he continued to snicker. I'd no sentiments towards the djinn before, but now I'd give my wish to undo their kind.
  40. The wall began to recede into the ground, what looked to be an ancient amphitheater becoming more visible by the inch. In the stands was an assortment of oddly-tinted figures, not unlike my tormentor for these last few moments.
  42.      "Best of luck, sir bard," I tuned out as the wall had sunken more than half way in, "... that poor girl has been man-starved for quite some time, do mind her bite."
  44. As the last inch of the wall collapsed, my opposite had begun her advance. A girl with an orchid skintone and shoulder-length hair flowing like a dark wine behind her charged at me, her lower half slithering at darting speed my way. The sound of her bangles and a circlet bobbing against her came closer through the crowd's cheers, not before the snake screamed something just out of earshot. Mostly pertaining to my cock.
  46. Before she could come in striking distance of my trousers, I had recalled a technique from a fellow performer in the southern sands, though its effect in this situation was to be a mystery for me. I readied my flute, a stomping of my bell-lined right boot beginning a tune. The technique's practitioners hailed from a tribe along the caravans, their name in the native tongue translating to something akin to "shepards of the serpents", snake-charmers.
  48. The apophis' charge halted a handful of paces short of my groin. She stared in confusion, before realizing something occurring behind her view. Her jet-black tail had begun to sway with my notes, ignoring her burning desires to wring out every drop of my seed.
  50.      "What in mother's name are you doing?!" she hissed, half of her now entranced in music. With each jingle of my boot, her hips began to sway despite protests. I took in her helpless form as my concert progressed; a shawl that hung from her unhooded neck to the bottom of her ribs, leaving a window of her undulating navel in plain sight. Most tantalizing of all was a veil of black that obscured her nethers, with each motion revealing just a peek of her cave of wonders. I had been a man of peace, and to draw blood from a muse of her like was unthinkable. I called out to the djinn man, somewhere among the crowd.
  52.      "A quartet of snake shepards to my aide, djinn. Would you allow me this boon?" I called, the apophis grasping at me frantically.
  54.      "But of course, sir bard. What good is a composer with naught a soul to play before him?" he snickered audibly from the amphitheater, as a symphony of drums and bells I'd only heard among tribal gatherings came to life around me. The apophis' body gave into the music, her hips now swaying full tempo as she shimmied around me. Her face was burning red, futilely attempting to cover her embarrassment as her navel bobbed to the ambiance. The motion of her hips and my own desires began to overpower me as a throbbing pain came over my loins. We were pitted against each other in survival, but it was the djinn's error to not specify on what we were to outlast each other in. In my trade, knowledge spanned far beyond libraries... culture, traditions, and more relevant to the situation, a repertoire of techniques I'd acquired from a near-decade of nightly tavern sexcapades. I had the slightest regret, that this grape-hued serpentess may have not been prepared for a creature as depraved as I.
  56.      "Damned bards!" she hissed furiously, her shawl moving with each motion to reveal just the underside of her bosom.
  58. The crowd around us chanted "Take her!" repeatedly.
  60. One to please the audience, I tackled the apophis, her tail swaying rhythmically even as she was sprawled on the amphitheater stage. Her piercing red eyes gazed at me, then to the rigid protrusion under my clothes pressing against her tail.
  62.      "Y-you can't be serious," she protested, "This is a crowded amphitheater, you imbecile!"
  64. I pinned her shoulders to the ground, a flailing tail struggling to coil around my legs. Her teeth were bared, scarlet drippings coming from her fangs. Yet despite her resistance, her torso continued to sway suggestively.
  66.      "I've always preferred an audience." I replied with what must have been the largest smirk, judging by the look of abject fury on the apophis' face. Without further delay I buried my nose just under her ribs, shawl hiking up to her collarbone to reveal a pair of jewel-studded nubs. Her violet skin was slicked, a saline aroma with a faint hint of spiced wine hanging under my lips. My tongue desired the source of this taste, and I had no intention to restrain its curiosity.
  68. The apophis' tail stopped its dance as something wet dragged under her breasts, a stifled moan her only reply as I met a pierced nipple which perked as my tongue slathered it. Save for the music, the crowd grew silent until audible moans could be heard.
  70.      "C-cease now! I've no desire to be a sspectacle!" she reached for my head, her nails digging into my scalp roughly. Two could play this game, if that was her intention.
  72. She gasped each time I nibbled against her piercing, her tail catching my leg at last. I felt the throbbing of her heartbeat against my teeth, leaving traces across her chest as she tried to strangle my leg to no avail. Several indentions of my teethmarks dotted her torso, glistening with my saliva. Her nipples were as erect as I was, chest heaving as my nose trailed downwards.
  74.      "I yield," she panted, "Afford me the luxury of privacy... before you continue."
  76. I had no intention to obey her, and lowered myself to face her orchid-tinted abdomen. The faint saltiness that slicked her bosom was more pungent as I traveled down, my lips brushing against the inner rim of her belly. Her back arched as my hands traveled from her shoulders down, nails digging into her skin as they made their way down her sides, her spine and joining at the small of her back. Her voice leaked from her lips unhindered, as a single hand reached for my head in attempt to halt my advances. Her navel rose and fell as I traced against its center with my tongue. It was when it dipped into the shallow recess of her belly button, her tail thrashed frantically.
  78.      "I beg of you!" the apophis blushed as she bit into her opposite hand, "Don't, please!"
  80. Her weakness made me harder, the sound of barely stifled moans into her hand only drove my tongue harder into the pit of her abdomen. Her tail had lost its strength as it wiggled under my legs.
  82.      "Cli-max! Cli-max!" the crowd chanted, the apophis' face more red than violet at this point.
  84.      "I beg. Bard, plea-AAAAHN~" she uttered, a scarlet trail dripping off her hand, "I'm going- Please, sstop! Not here!"
  86. The apophis squirmed, tweaking herself in reflex as I tasted her navel. The cheering around me drowned out her pleasure screams, her back arching as what I could only describe as a gush came over my chest. The blank look in her red eyes, tongue hanging out of her mouth and twitching of her tail beneath my thighs were more than enough proof of what had transpired.
  88.      "Our brave minstrel has emerged victorious!" a man shouted, the crowd bursting into applause as the befuddled apophis struggled to catch her breath. I dismounted her, a purple man with a ponytail and mustache warping into view. My djinn tormentor, undoubtedly.
  90.      "I'd no doubt you would win, sir bard," he twirled his mustache, admiring the heaving mess of apophis on the amphitheater, "What would you do with your prize? It'd be most impolite to leave her in that condition."
  92. A quivering serpentess tickled my mind's fancy in ways I hadn't known before; driving her to orgasm was far from the last impurity that danced in my thoughts for her.
  94.      "I'll take her."
RAW Paste Data
We use cookies for various purposes including analytics. By continuing to use Pastebin, you agree to our use of cookies as described in the Cookies Policy. OK, I Understand