Blind Leap Ch. 09: Vacant Vacation

Thank you for sticking with me thus far in K's journey in Tree Court. There are three books now coming out, the suggested reading order is as follows:

Blind Faith: Relationship with Ruun in the City

Blind Spot: Life after Ruun, not so good.

Blind Leap: K's journey in Tree Court

There should be disclaimers, but if you've read this far, you know them well. Happy reading and I'd love to hear from you in the comments or a PM.

Blind leap Ch. 09: Vacant Vacation

Bitter Freedom

I hide in the shadows, terrified. Nowhere to go. No Patron to protect me. But I'm not helpless. I make my way to the dingy café where I buy my wine. It's closed, so I curl up in front of the door and cover myself with the blanket from my dorm. I sleep in the dark alley, hidden from the world.

Light assaults my eyes in the early hours of the morning.

'Well, sweet. Are you so eager to pay your tab?' Rosie's dry chuckle fills me with relief.

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. 'Uh. Sure.'

She tuts, gesturing for me to follow her into the café. 'Don't lie to me, loverboy.'

I gather my blanket and bag, ducking under the low lintel. The stale scent of sweet fermentation greets me. I dump my things and plop into the chair next to the counter.

Rosie stops fussing with her book and eyes me down. 'This isn't pay day. What's wrong?'

Is it that obvious?

'I've run away.' Always be honest. Fae are honed to see lies.

She sets her pencil down. 'Tell Auntie Rosie your woes, spawn.'

I like her. She reminds me of my Aunt Amber.

'Do you know a place I could lay low? Rent for sex, bursts or something I can do?'

Rosie taps her chin, calculating. 'I've got a small room in the attic. It's yours for weekly deposits of your semen on top of the current prices.'

Yea. She's that Rosie. Drugged tea-offering grannie.

But see... I know her and her pixies. Keep your enemy close. And it turns out... They're happy to take Grey Eyes' money, but hate him. You know, the enemy of your enemy might be someone you can use... or something like that.

I nod, holding out my hand. 'Deal.'

She shakes it. No zing. No magical kapow. Just a simple agreement. That's how Rosie rolls.

Or so I thought.

~*~

I shove my plate away and gulp down the last of the mead, the sweet buzz already warming my chest. The dishes wait, but my cock already itches for company. It keeps better time than the clock on the wall.

By the time the pots gleam, the gang starts filtering in--those tiny troublemakers who make my new 'job' bearable.

I slip back to the corner, pulling my pants down with the ease of a seasoned domme. My dick settles onto the little ramp Rosie rigged up--no ties, no drama. Just me and the pixies.

If Grey Eyes is selling an artificial version of my jizz, then Rosie gets the real deal. I'm not complaining about the milking process either.

Ever heard about being pixied? Well worth the trip, my friend. Rat's jizz gave me vaginal walls of fucking Teflon. Imagine what this shizz does when it reaches my balls.

Rosie started spouting technobabble at me about why it works--some rot about enzyme-activated and then she just bored me with lots of syllables.

I hold up my palm, half-lidded and already hard. 'Don't distract me with your fancy words, lady. I'm just here to get milked.'

She cackles like the witch she is, tongue curling along her yellowed teeth.

Pricker's first today, his finger tracking slow, teasing circles on my inner thigh. The contrast between his tiny, rough touch and the smooth heat beneath my skin makes my breath hitch.

'Ready for it, champ?' His eyes glint with that mix of mischief and something... hungry. 'You showered today.'

'I learned my lesson,' I rumble with a laugh. 'Let's get this started.'

He grins, already tugging at the fly of his pink trousers. His cock pops free--glossy, purple, and absolutely enormous for his size. Two centimetres. A regular arm cannon for a pixie.

He lubes up, lining himself with the slit of my dick, and when he sinks in, I feel that familiar sting--just the right kind of ouch.

From her seat, Rosie's eyes don't leave Pricker, who's already halfway up my dick, thighs pumping like a maniac on a pogo stick.

'That's it, sweetie,' she croons, one hand idly polishing a shot glass. 'Get every last drop for Auntie Rosie. Our dark fae customers are thirsty.'

I lean back, resisting the urge to buck my hips. Pricker sinks in deep again. Electricity jolts up my shaft deep into my groin.

I groan through gritted teeth, hands fishing the edge of the seat below me. It's not pain, exactly. More like pressure cracking inwards, nerves jangling like they're caught in a too-tight snare. My body doesn't know whether to flinch or come.

It's a lot more fun than it sounds. Wink. Wink.

Pinker groans, 'Pan. This is fantastic!'

He says that every time.

I enjoy a little pain with my edging and groan. The burn drips into pleasure, distorting until it's a pulse in the back of my spine. Pinker starts riding my hole for all he's worth. I close my eyes. Watching a foot-and-a-half tall pixie humping my dick with a funny cum face is enough to make me giggle.

That commando chipmunk image I used earlier for Grey Eyes? Yea. Only this one's burying his nuts deep in my dick.

My hips jump lightly as Pinker cums, the spurt shooting deep. The tingle starts at my tip. Before I have time to react, Acer--the expert from the lab--steps up next.

I groan as he buries his little prick into my head. The slit parts around him, snug as fuck, and my dick pulses like it's trying to shake his hand.

I don't dare move--one thrust could break a pixie in half. And this gang? They know how to make a body disappear.

He gasps, wings fluttering like mad as he drills fast. No theatrics for Acer, he's a professional. 'Pan, the pressure--'

Yeah, no shit. I grit my teeth to keep still. Every measured grind pushes that tingle lower, Pricker's load working its multi-syllabic magic. My whole shaft's holding its breath. Feels like my dick's trying to implode in slow motion.

Fuck, it's intense. Gorgeous. I'm so close I could cry.

Rabbit's beautiful voice rings out. 'Better stand back, Acer.'

He flits off mid-poke with professional grace, just in time. I grab my shaft, jerking hard. The pressure breaks--my balls clench--and the first thick ropes arc into the cup, heat wringing through me like a snapped fever.

Acer resumes his relentless hump fest, his tiny wings beating furiously as he rides me like a pro. My breath hitches, every nerve ending alive with that sharp, painful, too sensitive, too soon way. But left over pixie spunk remains, tingles creep back up my shaft. I stiffen immediately, heart pounding like a war drum.

'You're going to give me a repeat, aren't you?' Acer pants, eyes sparkling madly.

I moan, tossing my head back. Wishing I could pump at something soon. 'Until the cup's full. Like we agreed.'

Chops already strokes his one centimetre cock, licking his lips. Waiting his turn patiently.

Paying rent never felt so good.

~*~

Distress, De-stress

By the time I've been diddled by Pixie 5, I'm horny as all get-up and the ropes are coming out thick. This is how they were able to get a ton in 24 hours. I was out for the count for a twenty-four hour pixie orgy. One of the few regrets I have to date.

I eye Rabbit, that tiny, fearless firecracker. 'Come here, dewdrop.'

Her mischievous grin spreads wide. She remembers every lick, every tease from our last round. Rabbit's sharp as a blade, and she loves to torment me with that knowledge.

She dives onto my face with a gleeful cackle, like a predator pouncing on prey. This last round's always a little hard--and her surgery-coated little slit, slick and eager, is the perfect topper.

My hands find her hips, holding her tight as I bury my tongue deep, swirling through the heat of her right, swollen folds. She's soaked, dripping wet from watching her fellow gangmate's antics. It's like sucking on a sugar cube soaked in fire and honey.

She grabs my horns, digging in with a ferocity that sends shivers down my spine. Her clit rubs against my lips, my chin, my nose before she demands I tease her snatch again.

I do my best for my little Rabbit.

She rides my face like it's her personal throne, clinging to me with desperate fingers as her clit dances teasingly against my nose--her favourite spot, she always says.

My dick pulses, thick and swollen, as Pricker takes a second round teasing my urethra--slow, deliberate, precise. The pleasure blurs around me, a merciless tide crashing between the sharp sting of pain and the soft caress of ecstasy.

Rabbit's orgasm washes over me in waves, her juices dribbling warm and sticky onto my tongue. The dark fae essence buried deep inside her is a secret gift--an illicit treasure hidden in the folds of her pleasure.

Pricker arches his back, sweaty and satiated, delivering another load into my prick. He backs away, breath ragged, as Acer and another pixie pump my shaft with relentless rhythm. Four warm hands jack me off, my toes curl as I grunt. I shoot rope after rope into the half-full jug, hips rocking involuntarily with each white-hot blast, each one sharper and sweeter than the last.

Rabbit's not done. Gasping for air, she clings tighter, dragging me back in for round two. My tongue buzzes against her labia, coaxing, teasing--her moans ripple through me.

I'm still hard--thank you, pixie juice--raging and relentless like a beast barely held in check.

Rosie steps up next, lifting her skirts with a sly smile that promises mischief and maybe a little chaos. She straddles my hips, claiming me like a favourite seat she built herself. The weight of her--confident, soft--settles around me as her tight heat sinks around my stiff shaft, a delicious warning shot. A satisfied sigh escapes her as she settles against my hips, sliding the length of my rod with a practiced ease that makes me wonder if I've been living under a rock for the last decade.

Energy blasts? Pah! That was all cherub's play. This is the real thing. Flesh and heat and audacious intention all wrapped up in the perfect curve of a well-timed hip jerk.

'Mm,' she hums, rising up as she shimmies. It's less a sound than a statement--a declaration this is going to be educational. I nod. I'm a willing student. Don't ever underestimate a lady of maturity. Rosie's aged like a fine wine, sharp and intoxicating. She's taught me a few tricks I never thought I'd learn, and some I can't stop thinking about.

She lowers again slowly, deliberately, her body enveloping me inch by precise inch. Her pelvic floor tightens around my shaft as she eases her way down, a pause just before completing the journey jerks me out of reverie. She smiles, and sits down hard, rocking tight motions, grinding my shaft into her lovely deep rose clit. Those micro-pauses drive me wild and keep me strung on.

Rabbit taps my face twice--light, scolding, smug. 'Pay attention, dewdrop.'

I mumble something that is absolutely meant to be 'Fucking Rosie's riding me,' but comes out for moke, 'Fu' 'abbi, 'ossies fucking 'e,' because my mouth is currently... extremely occupied.

Rabbit moans again, her tiny thighs clenching around my cheeks. 'Excuses,' she breathes, and then she grinds, a slow desperate hump against my nose like my face owes her rent.

The vibration from Rosie's last drop still buzzes through my whole body, and Rabbit feels it--oh, she feels it. A shudder rolls up her spine, her whole frame tightening as she ruts against me with unashamed purpose.

Her fingers thread into my hair, tugging me closer, forcing my tongue exactly where she wants it. 'Gods, yes--right there--don't you dare drift off again.'

I'm hardly drifting. Rosie's bouncing on my cock, Rabbit's using my mouth like a favourite toy, and I'm pinned between them like a particularly grateful offering.

Stick me between two dominant ladies and I'm a willing teddy bear, surrendering to their rhythm without shame or hesitation.

Rabbit's second climax triggers my own fountain, drenching Rosie's box in a warm, sticky coat meant for her tailor.

Rabbit rolls her hips again--slower this time, deliberate, the soft, slick drag of her folds over my lips making my brain flicker out like faulty lighting.

Rosie laughs breathlessly from above me, her hips still rocking, still squeezing.

'Don't distract my mount, Rabbit,' she pants. 'He was doing so well.'

'Oh, he's multitasking,' Rabbit replies, grinding harder, her voice breaking into a half-whimper, half-challenge. 'Aren't you, dewdrop?'

I nod--or at least try to--but she clamps down with her thighs, holding me still as she rides my face with small, greedy thrusts.

Rosie leans forward, bracing herself on my chest. 'Honestly,' she purrs, 'He's very... cooperative.'

Rabbit laughs, breath shaking. 'He's motivated.'

She shudders again, hips twitching as my tongue flicks exactly where she needs it.

Her whole body tightens--one long, trembling line--and she gasps out,

'Mmm--gods--that's it--'

Rosie squeezes around me at the same time, the timing almost sinful, and Rabbit's moan breaks apart against my mouth as she rides out the wave.

My balls tighten as the last of my jizz spurts into Rosie's heat. She groans, grinding, milking me for everything I have left.

Rabbit pools down to my chest and lays there listening to my rapid heart beat. She likes a good after care cuddle session. I place my hand over her back gently under her wings and keep her warm.

Remember the teflon vag walls Rude's spunk gave me as a lady? Turns out the effect... transfers.

Rosie pats my cheek like I'm a particularly helpful household appliance.

'Dewdrop,' she says, breathless and glowy, 'I think I owe you a thank-you.'

'For... what exactly?' I ask, even though I can already see the smug blooming across her face.

She stands -- well, more like floats off me -- smoothing her skirts with the air of a woman who's just unlocked a new life achievement. Her hips do a triumphant little wiggle. 'I feel ten years younger, five years braver, and suddenly very aware that the butcher across the lane has forearms carved by the gods themselves.'

And with that, she sashays out, humming the kind of jaunty tune that means someone's about to have an unexpectedly exciting shift in the meat department.

And the weirdest part? I get half the profits when my jizz gets sold at Rosie's black market nightclub--an underground haven for those who crave the strange and taboo. I top her stash up every few days, and at night we talk philosophy in the attic, sharing stories and secrets.

That night, before I drift off, Rabbit points out a curious ad in the local news.

'Dray's looking for his fiancee. Call this number and confirm the token left behind.'

Waiting for the moment when the place is quiet, I grab the local phone and dial. Leave a message: 'Hi Dray, Dangles packed up watertight from M's yoohoo after a good tuck-in. Meet me at Pewter's Cakes Cafe tomorrow at three.'

I mean, if I'm going to possibly get another role--and Dray's outfit could afford diamond earrings--I'm definitely taking the high tea.

Rosie's been around forever, a relic from Winter's Court. She never needed the Rite--her court doesn't have this twisted tradition. But she's full of ideas.

She recommends I go back to school.

~*~

Restress, Retreat

It was supposed to be tea.

Just tea. A tiny porcelain teacup in some absurdly overpriced café, where the sandwiches have more architectural integrity than flavour, and Dray could perform his usual 'woe is me, fame is hard' routine while I nodded politely.

Instead, he showed up with two takeaway coffees, eyes already misty, grabbed my elbow like a guy drowning, and ushered me down the block.

Now I'm in the penthouse suite of the fanciest hotel in Court City -- the one with velvet carpets, floating chandeliers, and staff who pretend not to recognise celebrity demons even when they absolutely do. The kind with opulent soundproofing that suggests people pay for privacy... in multiple ways.

Dray is pacing in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, wringing his hands like he's auditioning for 'Tragic Nobleman No. 3.'

He offered to pay me for my time.

I said yes. Because I am not stupid. And because emotional labour has a market rate, especially in high society.

I eat another finger sandwich as he cries while shimmying out of his black suit. No cage on his junk, just a semi hard C7 slowly elongating as he eyes my groin. He licks his lips. 'You don't look like Dee Dee.' His eyes flicking up and down like he's comparing me to a ghost he hasn't accepted losing.

He squints, tilts his head and shrugs his wings out of his shirts. I flex my bulge in my pants to let him know I appreciate what I see.

'Maybe a little around the eyes. She's much more elegant.' He surmises.

I shrug. 'Mothers are sisters. So what did you want her for?'

His lip trembles as he sluffs the last of his clothing off. Oof, his six pack stack is super fine. I lift off my tank top and step out of black linen pants with ease. No underwear these days, no fuss, no muss.

'I starred with the best, and now Matriarch's retired and--' Dray hiccuped, wrapping his arms around me. I think it's a hug, so I lean in. Then his meaty hands clasp my buttcheeks and knead lightly.

Oh. Yes please. I shake my assets to advertise better.

I grab the lube from the sidetable and slick my hands up. I clasp his massive D8 and begin to massage the elongating shaft. He shudders under my touch, his hips begin to rock. 'I'm nothing without Matriarch and I don't know what to do!' Dray sobs into my shoulder as he rocks with my hand.

'Why don't you tell uncle D all about it, Pet.' I croon.

His girth presses against my anal bud, and slides right in thanks to the evening shows with Granite at the Fleshie's Club. He groans softly as he sinks right to the hilt. 'Oh gods, you're just as trained as she was. Can I use you?'

I shrug. 'Sure. You're paying double to me and the healer if I need healing.'

Now he's crying into my shoulder while ramming his D10 sized privileged guilt into my ass. I don't care. He's paying by the minute.

I offer him another small cake over my shoulder. He takes it with shaking fingers. I stuff two more into my mouth as he fucks me. They're rich, expensive, and free.

The whole bondage thing with mommy? All an act. Dray's split with Matriarch. She retired after the success of my debut. But there's no more films in my future. Dray's agent dropped him. He's been typecast and dried up.

I moan out, making the right noises to feed his paying ego. He pumps fast into me, fast and frantic.

Matriarch was right about one thing--without her guidance, he's sloppy. Haphazard. Terrible rhythm at all.

I wince as he drives himself deep into my backside. It's been a while since I entertained him--five months, he says.

How did that much time disappear?

'I just... I just need your cousin back. Fiancée. The fans loved her. Not quite demon, not quite human,' he says, paused. Like this is an ad break. 'You're sure you're related?'

I've heard twin-spirits call their alter forms brother or sister. My lady me? I call cousin.

She's she. I'm he. But he compared the photo, except for the dick and the hair, we're identical. 'Yes.' I wiggle my ass to remind him. I just want this over with.

He attacks me with renewed vigour and staccato to suit a beginner's tap dance. It's over before he begins, he grunts as he just stands there.

I feel nothing inside, except his massive dick throbbing. Where's the gush of spooge?

No gush. No flood. No glorious fountain like the one Matriarch slurped up.

Oh fuck. Yesterday's milking session comes back, whamming me over the head.

'You pixied your dick before the films?' I don't mean to blurt it out like that.