by Dacy Alex
Tristabelle stated in an even voice, "I am to remain in America where, let us say, that yours truly may be embroiled in something of a sex curse."
Constantina's lips turned into a slight smile, "Again?"
"And let us say the amulet one might use to rid the afflicted of the sex curse has been shattered by parties who are soon to lose their bowels when I plant my blade through their guts. How might one proceed? Hypothetically speaking, of course."
There was a laugh that was rich in affection and kindness from Constantia. Giselle couldn't imagine having a sister who brought out tenderness when one complains about a sex curse.
"Hypothetically speaking, one should come back home and forget the dream of being like a human girl and protect the kingdom. But if one chooses to stay in America, one should know most amulets, when broken, can be repaired if you do their required task with earnest gusto."
Dusty was quick on the uptake for someone who's not allowed to watch anything past TV-14. "So we gotta hump these jokers like my ol’ pet rooster Raven used to do with the hens. Shame pa ate him and all."
Giselle watched Constantia jerk her head back and hurry to ask, "What type of language is that? Are you in the presence of a demon?"
"We sure are..." Fleur noted. "But is she right or not?"
The dizziness came back to Giselle, forcing her to take a seat on the one chair that wasn't destroyed.
"Yes she is," the elder Elvrina responded. "Which I'm sure won't be a problem for you, Tristabelle being such a good sister of Freyja,"
Nor was it a problem for Sofi. "They're in just the right kind of tax bracket for me, too."
Giselle believed that betting repairs on a legendary orgy performance was a risky proposition. What if all the things she'd broken had to be fixed by giving a handyman a quality handjob? But Constantina spoke with the assurance and expertise of a guest on a CNN panel. Her answer was at the forefront of what must be an incredible vault of knowledge.
What Constantina hadn't factored in is a severe problem blocking this plan.
"Um, what are we going to do about the wives and girlfriends?" Giselle asked.
With a breezy beautiful smile, Tristabelle said, "It is as our ancestor Queen Ariel, the Sea Serpent once said..."
Constantina and Tristabelle spoke in unison, "Let my foes scream in pain, and let their spouses scream my name."
I need to make a meme out of that.
Chapter Eleven: It's Sexual, Baby
Getting the cursed men together the next afternoon fell on every girl besides Giselle, who had been complaining of dizziness and a groggy feeling since the masquerade.
Tristabelle handled fetching Tyrone Elder. Or, more accurately, knights from the consulate got him for her.
Sofi saved Blake Kellerman from a shady garbage man who was telling Blake to give him his social security card. Then she made the garbage man give her fifty bucks for having a nice smile. And then she swooped in and pulled the cursed Nigerian, John Jaja, away from his berating wife.
Dusty wrangled the man with the elegant mustache, Arthur Gatez. And caught herself a stout man named Val Mironov who happened to be cursed.
Fleur tasked herself with capturing Seamus, which amounted to pulling him out of the storage closet. Since she was such a hardworking gal she took up getting the Asian gent, Cheng Lee, whose wife had rid herself of him earlier. That also amounted to pulling him out of the storage closet.
This worked well for Fleur who was there to receive her deeply-awaited Talisman from a human courier that had been glamored by another vampire to be a delivery boy.
"This thing contains the spirit of Barnabus Bixby," Fleur told Giselle and Dusty. "He was a big rich carnie in the 1850s and a huge scam artist. But he scammed the wrong witch and she had him imprisoned in this talisman. If your soul is greedy enough, he has to give you money whenever you want. I'll be rich!"
"Fleur," Dusty started with a shake of her head, "yer a demon, you ain't got a soul."
"Shit," Fleur muttered.
Fleur just dumped the talisman on the ground as though it were a Snickers wrapper.
"I'm impressed," Giselle announced, blue eyes traveling down the row of naked men in the living room.
Fleur, who was wearing a ripped up tank top, waved her hand in dismissal, "You should see how a troll is hung,"
"I meant I'm impressed you got them all. But now I'll never look at Lord of the Rings the same way."
Giselle gazed at the sculpture of Maya with its bright crystals and thought back to when she first arrived in this condo. Had Maya helped Giselle see through the illusion that she lived in a world of conventional people, conventional events, conventional danger? She had, Giselle knew at once because Maya was smiling at her.
A moment later, Maya's face stood stock still.
"Scoot, scoot, Giselle, lemme through," Sofi interrupted the near daze of Giselle. "Girls, I'm tweeting a few words about body positivity. Be sure to retweet them. Oh yeah, I don't wanna get with Cheng Lee. His short arms are creepy," body-positive Sofi declared.
The living room had been lit by a ring of candles set up by the princess and her dutiful if obnoxious helper, Dusty.
Tristabelle carried in the last of these candles. Herself carried in by knee-high boots and white stockings with a headband with a white flower on one side of her head. To Giselle it looked like Tristabelle was just getting changed for a Comic Con not an orgy.
Tristabelle spoke to Giselle, "The Temple of Frejya takes an orgy to be the most serious of erotic worship."
"What about fucking behind a Dairy Queen?" Fleur pondered. "How serious is that?"
"Ah, yes, the Dairy Queen," Tristabelle replied. " An old tale of a cow possessed by a usurping demon."
"Never mind," Fleur grumbled then picked up Giselle's phone with its pink and white glitter case off the table.
"My first week of college," Giselle started. "My first demon incursion, my first orgy. And my cousin said I'd only get slapped for my first mis-gendering of someone."
"Actually you're gonna film this one," Fleur instructed and thrust Giselle's phone at her. "I can sell it in the underworld. The Muslim side goes crazy for this kind of shit."
Sofi added, "It's too dangerous for a human to be in this. So shoot this Lars von Trier style. Make sure to draw out my ambitions and distinct presence. Kay? Good!"
Giselle's face sagged. She had done actual orgy homework by watching Nina Hartley's Guide To The Perfect Orgy. Three times! For her hours of orgy research, she was to be relegated from porn star to porn producer?
Before Giselle could lodge any protest, the girls heard a bizarre mumbling sound. Their heads turned to see Dusty with a mouthful of John Jaja.
"Such a shameful display," Tristabelle decried. "I have yet to even apply the oils from Folkvang."
Dusty yanked her hefty meal out of her mouth with an exaggerated pop and said, "Ain't we supposed to suck these guys off now?"
Tristabelle corrected, "That will come. But spiritual intercourse precedes sexual intercourse at a good orgy."
Nina Hartley never said anything like that.
Tristabelle's bold almond eyes bore witness to the horror of the other three taking to their knees, surrounded with a staggering collection of man.
"No, no, no!" Tristabelle whined.
Unsympathetic, Fleur noted, "Aiyo, Princess Zelda, these dicks ain't gonna suck themselves."
Giselle's videography experience extended to taping middle school basketball games for extra credit in Audio/Visual class. Thus her stumbling over the remote and toppling to the ground was no surprise to anyone. She kind of, sort of got Elder being lodged in Sofi's throat. At least the microphone picked up the delicious sounds of Sofi gulping him down while lathering with spittle.
There were rather rough yet feminine grunts coming from behind the fallen Giselle. The amateur porn shooter had browsed enough kinky websites to know that's where the action was. After a less than graceful roll to the knees of her track pant
s, Giselle's expanded blue eyes took in a sight that fried the circuits of her mind...
Fleur had a two hundred pound barbell slung across her muscled shoulders. If that oddity weren't enough to raise alarm, then the fact that Seamus was laid out across a weight bench below her might draw one's shock.
"One!" Fleur counted and performed a squat. A squat that let her envelop Seamus' pale member. She came back up slower, and a sheen of her wetness was laid upon Seamus' staff. "Two!" She shouted again and thrust downward, engulfing Seamus' staying there for a good moment before she rose back up.
Holy cow! What's happening here?
A series of blinks later and Giselle saw Fleur's tight bod, absent any barbells, powering downward on Seamus as he laid across the ottoman. Below Fleur the pieces of the amulet were glowing a soft and beautiful red. The granddaughter of Satan let out a hellish series of grunts that had Tristabelle leaping back from her overseer role.
"My word, Fleur! So that is the irresistible groan of a succubus. I must mention such when I report this to Constantina."
Giselle needed to ask, "Do you often report orgies to your elder sister?"
"Do you not?"
"I'm an only child."
Ignoring that exchange, Fleur whistled, "Gimmie a little rap, Sea."
Seamus did something Giselle hadn't heard in days. He spoke. Or more accurately he rapped, "Fine bitch? I'm fucking. Boss bitch? She sucking. Big money? I'm making. Take you out for the weekend, to Puerto Rico and we freaking," He spat with his eyes forming bright circles of lucidity.
"That's alright. But you ain't Uzi," Fleur decided.
Giselle swerved to the left to find Dusty with the side of her face pressed against the sofa, her arms pinned together and held behind her back by John Jaja, her queen-sized bottom raised, and Jaja pounding away at her tightest hole. As Dusty was stuffed to her limits, her musical voice made heavy metal wails.
She did cut the wailing long enough to say, "Screw it! Screw it! Screw it!" Getting Jaja to rev up to a robust pace. It was a pace that had Dusty's eyes rolling and her tongue wagging,
Sofi questioned, "Why don't you just say fuck it?"
"I ain't gonna curse where the lord can hear me. You must be crazy, Sofi."
Despite her protestations about small arms, Sofi was now hunched over with her long lips guiding up Lee while she oozed out guttural groans and grunts. At her backside, Val Mironov was a piston to surge through her sex. Spit-roasted by the two men, Sofi's body was hurled back and forth, her lovers combining strokes to perfectly alternate their plunges into her. Giselle watched Sofi's eyes to leap to the back of her head then come forward with a flutter that matched her now grinning dick-free mouth.
"Damn!" Sofi exclaimed to everyone else, "With strokes this good, we should keep 'em cursed and make 'em our slaves."
The second Sofi finished her sentence, the men collapsed in on themselves. Flesh crumbled into nothingness as the light of the amulet went dark. The emptiness of it all stared at Giselle. It was nothing yet it had a form. A form begging for acceptance and love.
Then Giselle blinked, and the orgy was still hard-rocking and rolling.
Gah! What the fuck?
"Now," Tristabelle declared standing front and center, "I shall lend you gents the aid of my body. Take me however you will."
Tristabelle was lifted by Tyrone Elder, her long perfect pins sliding through his arms. Strong dancer's legs pressed against a firm defined body and had Giselle feeling jealous. And when the man pressed upwards and lodged himself inside Tristabelle, Giselle was extra jealous.
"Ooh!" Tristabelle exclaimed.
Tristabelle's long delicate fingers found Blake Kellerman's shaft. Giselle's eyes become blue pools of amazement as the princess skillfully and lustily handled two guys at once. The princess threw her head back, her body deluged. The flush in Tristabelle's face, the rapid blinking of her eyes had Giselle feeling the princess is in a state where she doesn't know where dicks end and she begins.
"Certainly OINK, this OINK, beats, OINK, a, OINK, tea, OINK, party!"
Sofi paused her tumble with Lee and Mironov to state, "I know you're oinking, Tristabelle. We all know you're oinking, but do you know you're oinking?"
"Do not be silly, Sofi! A princess does not oink," Tristabelle stated, almost panting like a dog in heat rather than a pig at a trough.
The broken amulet mingled with the candles with a warm red glow, the amulet brighter than ever. Its shattered pieces came together, pushed by an unseen supernatural force.
Responding to the reattachment of the amulet, the men picked up the pace of their fucking. At the same time, a certain liveliness filled their faces.
"Ooh, it's working," Sofi announced. "Tristabelle, maybe you should moo now."
"Silence!" Tristabelle snapped.
Fleur, impaled her tight tush on Seamus’ rod with a speed that was almost inhuman. The fierce brunette made incoherent snarls as if she were devouring prey. The broad smile on her face, though, told she was all joy and bubbles as her muscular bottom sucked Seamus to his very hilt. Fleur hoisted herself up and down, slamming her toned thighs onto Semaus’ lap.
“OHSHITFUCK!” Fleur bellowed, probably loud enough to be heard in the Bronx. “You getting this, Giselle? Abdul will throw me the bag for this when I get back to the Underworld.
Dusty pushed her head forward to have her mouth be filled by the balls of Blake Kellerman. He expanded Dusty's mouth and cheeks to their limit, making her look like the world’s blondest squirrel. A slobbering drooling squirrel, that is. The drool dribbled out of her mouth and feel onto her generous jugs with an audible splat.
“Hey?” Dusty paused to ask. “This gonna take longer? Fairy Revolution Wrestling is coming on and my Uncle Baron’s bout to take on King Lenoard Maddox in a “scepter on a pole” match in the mainevent.”
“That’s what you’re thinking about?” Fleur questioned.
A snake to his charmer, Lee succumbed to Sofi’s slurping talents, body shuddering from the pleasure. He hammered his hips towards her mouth, ping-ponging himself off her chin. Though her face was flushed, and distorted by meat and pleasure, her eyes were focused on Lee’s checkbook held in her right hand. After all, he seemed rich, but was he that rich? There were was a certain wealth level one had to reach to get oral sex from Sofi. She was no common tramp!
Tristabelle decided the best way to not oink, which she totally wasn’t doing in the first place, was to stash Tyrone Elder in her mouth as she rode John Jaja cowgirl style. There was much so much of the men inside the princess that she almost felt like she had a second person inside her. She desperately and lustily clamped onto the two men as though were they in danger of being spirited away. Her eyes bulged like a landed fish and her face turned red with embarrassment because now she just sounded like a pig gorging on a banana.
“Maybe the Elvrina sigil shouldn’t be a dancing woman but a dancing piece of bacon.” Sofi decided.
Giselle could take no more. Her aching need overwhelmed her. The perversions she was told to leave in California seized control of her hands, moving them into her pants, passed her panties and to a center that begged to be touch. And touched it needed to be, and touched it was.
"Oh mother fuck!" Giselle shrieked.
"Calling mother, iPhone," Giselle's phone responded.
"Huh? Wait! No! No!" Giselle bellowed back.
Too late. Too damn late.
"Giselle, what's going on?" Dawn Nyfall spoke. "What is that moaning I hear? Why is someone oinking? Giselle, I swear if you—"
"Gotta go! Mom! Bye!"
Giselle was so eager to rid herself of this horrible situation that she fumbled her phone as she shut her mom down. In her klutzy attempt to catch it, she toppled forward, a single blond domino that crashed into Fleur's discarded talisman, cracking it open.
A purple smoke sprung from talisman in a sharp quickness. The smoke dashed across the room, bouncing about in a pinball fashion. It wove and rocked about the r
oom, slicing through Maya, dancing around the TV, then settling behind the amulet.
Brain! I demand you stop making me see things!
Though when the girls all stopped who they were doing and what they were doing, Giselle realized the troubling truth that her brain was innocent this time.
Clenched fists and narrowed eyes were aimed at the smoke which was quickly forming a human shape.
That the smoke created a small man with pinstriped pants and tophat who picked up the amulet was so odd to Giselle that it was normal.
"I'm Barnabus Bixby, and I thank you kindly for the gift," he stated.
"It ain't no gift, son," Dusty chided then reached for Barnabus. Yet right as her fingertips were to his chest, he went up in a plume of smoke along with the amulet.
Another plume of smoke settled around Tristabelle. Within moments the smoke became Barnabus. The carny's beady eyes looked Tristabelle up and down with a mischievous smile. Giselle noticed he had a scar running down his cheek. Probably well-earned.
"You're a fine how do you do," Barnabus told Tristabelle.
With lips settled into a tight frown, Tristabelle reached for Barnabus and also met only with that awful cloud of purple smoke.
There he was again. Now settled next to Seamus with a crooked smile that Giselle now saw was missing two teeth. Another well-earned loss, Giselle was sure.
"Stop, stop," Sofi demanded. "You just can't steal our stuff."
"Everything in the world belongs to me," he replied.
Giselle wondered what her expression looked like at this point. Was she wearing a look of defeat, anger, resignation? She felt a frown and a heat to her face and knew her face had to be twisted into something even meaner.
The guys were as impassive as ever despite their vigorous tumble with the freshman.
"Bet," Sofi shot back.
"Literally!" Giselle exclaimed. "Let's bet on hide and seek," Giselle offered, and Sofi's nose wrinkled which Giselle took as a sign to go on. "If we win, which we are totally going to because I'm super great at hide and seek, we get our amulet back. If you win, you get to keep the amulet."
Sofi added, "Good thinking, Giselle. And, Barney, we'll so throw you gold from Golden Land. And an autographed picture of me."