House of Temptation – 7 [❤️❤️❤️]

You are the resident theatre kid in Haven, Tuesday.

You’d love to be directing plays, movies, and porn so the residents of Haven witness your artistic vision. Your dramatization of the Hairy Pooter series as an opera rose a few eyebrows, even though it saw critical success. Your most recent project is a retelling of Gilgamesh story, but you can’t seem to find the royal warrior counterpart to act as Gilgamesh to Saw’s wild Enkidu. Your actor not only needs to survive intercourse with Saw, and also dominate him in turn. You’re running though options to maybe downgrade your vision, potentially rewriting everything you had ready. Sadly, that takes time.

Time you don’t have.

You’re surprised to find that you’re not the last one to arrive in the Shipborn chamber. You settle in your seat and watch the others for inspiration.

Not everyone is here: those infiltrating Camelot and those pretending to be knights have been absent for a while now. Their stone chairs sit empty.

Most of the other seats are full.

Sunday has his eyes closed, the picture of patient nobility as New Year loudly slurps his cock between her gargantuan tits. January loudly complains to February and Valentine as they take turns between her legs and slowing her complaints with their lips. May whittles something as she talks with August, the latter staring at a strangely reserved Friday. October has a conversation with the twins as they sit as his sides and give him a double footjob. Fools, ever the jokester, is laying across the much smaller Labor’s crotch, guffawing as the smaller incubus strains to penetrate him. November sits regally as she looks over some documents, Thanksgiving peeking dimwittedly behind her.

September arrives last, smirking at the blushing Labor as she makes her way to her seat. Sunday opens his eyes, and everyone finishes whatever and whoever they’re doing. The ninth weekly Shipborn meeting begins.

“Brothers, sisters, welcome.” Sunday waves his hand and his tux reappears on him. “We have much to discuss. The Purity Front will go out of rotation in a few days to be replaced by Steelpunk’s gang.”

Reactions are mixed. Steelpunk’s people were the most cautious of the three gangs to come to Haven, and nobody can really get an idea of what they want. You’ve talked to a few of them, and they all express a general lack of faith in Prillia’s government structures, but none of them have any real ideas on how to deal with those issues. Even if their ideologies differed, only two of those who broke the ECS decided to stay in Haven.

A stark contrast to the two dozen from the Orchid Family and the two hundred from the Purity Front.

“Furthermore, Goldwing has expressed some discontent with our presence at Nancy’s Tavern. He may try to do something rash. I insist that you remember that we are guests there, and that you should take care to protect yourself with illusions and beguilement first before trying the spells Lady Quinn has taught us.”

Lady Quinn found time to teach some of what she’s learned in Camelot at the school building. Everyone’s made big strides in different schools of arcane magic. Your magic skills fall more towards fire for pyrotechnics and air for dramatic winds.

None of that illusory stuff. Practical effects is where it’s at!

Once Sunday is done updating everyone on the political situation at Nancy’s, it’s your turn. You stand up and bow with a flourish.

“Ladies, gentlemen, I’m speaking today, not out of a sense of misplaced sentiment or imminent danger, but because I have the unfortunate task of—”

“Git on with it, ya featherhead!” Friday jeers.

Fine. You cut through the theatrics.

“—Dealing with Friday’s bullcrap.”

“Hwat?”

“When our siblings volunteered to infiltrate Camelot, they trusted us to take care of their stuff. I admit, I can be a messy guy.” Triss, your go-to mortal actress and part-time understudy, frequently has to dig through your chambers littered with papers stained by ink and other fluids. “But I’m still responsible for Wednesday’s creepy-as-fuck manor.”

Everyone shudders. Most demons, especially harpies, like having their manors floating high in the air of the northeastern quadrant. It's a sort of status symbol and a chance to watch Quinn perform from her palace. Wednesday, ever the contrarian, has her spooky Victorian manor looming threateningly on a small hill, stuffed to the brim with hypnotic triggers designed to make visitors feel uneasy.

Despite this, Wednesday has a small, devoted following among the youngers and a few mortals. Which means you have to help maintain her manor in her stead. Not just cleaning the manor, but also taking care of the mortals under her wing. Thankfully, they’re largely self-reliant and a few of them are enmeshed in your own harem.

The real problem is Thursday’s manor.

“Friday hasn’t been taking care of Thursday’s place!” You point accusingly. “It’s dirty, his girls are woefully underfucked, and Friday’s been selling his premium alcohol before it’s ready. I’ve had to manage three mansions because you’re not picking up the slack! With that and organizing those dumb BIMBOS, I barely have enough time for my own projects.”

“That’s a load o’ hooey!” Friday jumps to her feet. “The girls can take care of each other, and I ride the studs plenty! Them Purity Front folks were payin’ top dollar for some watered-down hooch, so Ah’ve been safeguardin’ Thursday’s tokens ‘til he gets back. Ah’ve jus’ been a little distracted is all.”

Friday isn’t the responsible type. She was chomping at the bit to visit Prillia, but despite her transformation talents, her impulsiveness made it impossible for her. Any time she needs to do something, she distracts herself by hunting demonic creatures in the wilds and playing with her guitar. Her latest distraction has been trying to seduce a far more responsible person to manage her property.

“Friday, have you been taking care of Thursday’s harem properly?” Friday bashfully looks away from Sunday. “Mortals need enrichment and a clean environment. Resolve these issues, assign another Shipborn to manage his mansion, or get someone to help you.”

Friday bites her lip and hides her face under her Stetson. She perks up, and her eyes dart to November. The telepathic messages pass between them for less than a second, and the cowgirl sits back down with a big grin. This exchange goes unnoticed for most of you.

Looks like November’s offering to help. For a price, of course.

Next up is January.

“Alright, I have news about a bunch of annoying twerps running around—”

“Pooch pounder!”

“Dog diddler!”

“Hound hugger!”

She blushes as a good portion of the gathered demons tease her. She doesn’t fall for the bait this time, especially after her recent orgy at the kobold bar. Her report on the people the BIMBOS caught is short, since the Purity Front has been on their best behavior after the initial mess. January goes on a tangent on the weirdly reclusive habits of the elves in the new ‘gated community’(see: enclosure), then spends most of her time complaining about how often she has to send imps to clean up after October in Hacksonville.

Eventually, she winds down to the point.

“And, um…a small issue. One of the seeing eyes in Hacksonville is, erm, gone.”

You take in a sharp breath. That could be an issue.

The seeing eyes in Hacksonville keep to the shadows, tracking the movements of powerful criminals and acting as overwatch for the demons living there. A few of them have been solely relegated to helping October cover his tracks after he has sex in public. Thankfully, he’s since slowed down, keeping his favorites in one of the richer apartment complexes.

“A seeing eye is gone?” You tap your talons on your chair. “Destroyed gone, or gone gone? That could mean a lot of trouble if someone has their hands on it.”

“Well…gone gone.” January taps her wing fingers together. “The person operating it was distracted at the time. Watching someone have risky public sex with a certain nudist!”

Everyone groans as January and October begin to argue, insults and accusations dragging others into their argument. Sunday quickly calls for order, warning everyone to be on the lookout for the missing seeing eye. January plops into her seat and pouts, October remaining standing to keep talking.

“Tell me it’s a bad idea to keep these sluts on a leash.” October summons a projection of the women he’s been gathering. “Landowners, executives, lawyers, and even a celebrity! Powerful women with ties to the Purity Front, now at my beck and call.”

It’s quite a collection. They’re mostly elves, and all are beautiful and with some measure of clout. It should make him far more influential, but the addictive properties of his cum could be a roadblock. Let’s just say their pussies aren’t the only loose lips.

“Impressive.” September smirks. “Basic, but impressive.”

October frowns and invites her to one-up him. It’s strange that the normally laconic September would brag so boldly. The muscular minotauress stands up and waves a sheet of paper with a summoning sigil on it. Not any you recognize. It’s more complicated than an imp’s, but you haven’t heard of any incubus or succubus that would willingly allow themselves to be summoned in Haven.

You’ve tried it as a gimmick on stage. Getting summoned in the same plane is nauseating.

September channels magic into the paper, and she appears. The second you lay eyes on her, you know that you’ve found the star of your next production.

Friday and September are toned, bordering on ripped. This eight-foot-tall demon is jacked. Bronze skin, pointy ears, and thick horns, the only thing that isn’t rock hard on this beast are her round breasts and blue-painted lips. When she suffers the blowback from the same-plane-summoning, she falls to a knee but her massive futanari cock stands proud, erect and twitching.

Pretty close, with a bigger bust

“Who dares?” Her voice booms, regal and imposing.

“Enoki, these are the Shipborn.” September runs her hand through the futanari’s dark red hair. “You should recognize this as an honor to be in the same room as your aunts and uncles.”

Your eyes widen. Is September implying that she created this work of art?

“You fled last time. And now, you pull me from my home as I was putting a lowly bitch in her place?” Enoki growls and stands shakily. “Only Lord Quinn is worthy of being above me. No trickery will—Urp!”

A needle of demonic magic embeds itself into Enoki’s back, sealing her movements in place. The twins circle Enoki like sharks. You wince. June and July aren’t very powerful…unless they get close enough to use your own body against you.

“Fascinating. Very—”

“Fascinating.”

Ah, what a pity. You were hoping to see the cocksocking of September. It would have been one of those ironic twists you love to see play out.

Instead, the twins poke and prod at every inch of the imposing futa, marveling over her body and manipulating her body with their magic needles. September gives brief explanation on how Quinn used September, Tightass, and Silverbrood to create the mutant demon. Enhanced strength, bones like steel, magic-resistant skin…Quinn used everything June and July learned from their dissections to make a lust-aligned demon as combat oriented as possible.

All to manage the elves in the enclosure. You can understand why: some of the elves can still cast powerful magic.

The twins manipulate Enoki’s body into a reverse arch, June feverishly jacking off her massive cock as July angles his member into her parted mouth. June licks Enoki’s giant scrotum, keeping her eyes on the massive meat she pumps vigorously.

“Her cock is very—”

“Mwah~ Healthy! And her lips are—”

“—soft and thick. Definitely a top with—”

“—hidden bottom potential.”

June climbs onto Enoki’s cock, riding the paralyzed futa’s length as her twin thrusts his dick down her throat. Enoki is trying to frown, but with all the needles in her body, she can’t even do that. She can only flutter her eyelids as the twins play with her body. June shifts between girl and cuntboy, gasping and moaning as she bounces on her cock. July changes between shemale and male as he matches his twin’s pace. The two share a perverted expression as they share an orgasm, jizz spurting from between their legs.

The twins go back to their spots to tenderly clean each other’s loins, leaving Enoki’s glistening pole standing straight up, July’s cum leaking from her mouth.

Everyone takes turns playing with a helpless Enoki as the meeting continues.

“It’s a bummer that my paintings aren’t selling that well.” February’s claws dig into Enoki’s firm thighs as he fucks her. “I know you guys said my mural looks nice, but I feel like I should make some more PG stuff to sell to Prillia. Pirates just don’t appreciate art.”

“Tell me about it.” You groan as you shoot a load into Enoki’s mouth. “Try setting up a play with the restrictions they have! Maybe if you make some picture books, you’d sell the pirates some porn comics!”

You double-team the amazonian, her swaying cock still slick with June’s love juices. Her pointy nose pokes into your balls every time you push yourself down her throat-pussy, bringing you closer to orgasm than even her blue stained lips. February moans lightly, her tight pussy squeezing every inch of him deeper inside her. Ever the gentleman, he licks her throbbing rod as he gets close, the both of you finishing just as her cock shoots her viscous jizz high into the air.

May comes up, moving Enoki’s body into a standing position.

“I’ve got a few more dwarves helping out with masonry.” May says, completely focused on groping and massaging Enoki’s massive rack. “They’re weirdly competitive with the kobolds. Don’t worry, I can get them to work together on those larger projects in the northwest quadrant.”

Demons offer a few solutions, ignoring the panting Enoki. She’s standing with her arms behind her neck, knees bent low enough for May to run her pussy up and down her erection. Every time May pulls back far enough to rub against Enoki’s glans, the futanari’s eyes roll back in pleasure. May listens intently to suggestions, pausing every now and then to stuff her face between Enoki’s boobs and flick her nipples. She grinds enough on Enoki’s shaft for her to climax, taking great care to leave Enoki on the brink of her own as she moans loudly into Enoki’s chest.

“Of course, you’ll need the help of one such as I.” November sashays to May and pushes the paralyzed Enoki on her back. “The buildings are still constrained by conventional physics. Would you like to hire some of my architects, or would you prefer the exclusive privilege of my personal handiwork?”

November and May hash out the details, the former running her finger delicately around Enoki’s twitching ubercock. November’s dispassionate gaze trails over Enoki’s cum-splattered body, pausing for a moment on her sweaty balls.

“She is a fine specimen. Though this queen has taken bigger.”

November squeezes Enoki’s balls, licking the sweat from her palms as she rubs her entire body against Enoki’s shaft. It throbs and twitches, finally erupting as November wraps her lips around the head. Enoki’s eyes roll back fully, her orgasm cut short as November’s tail wraps tightly around the base of her cock. The Egyptian princess keeps rubbing her body up and down the futanari’s cock, squeezing her tits around the tortured member as she slowly swishes the cum in her mouth. She leans forwards, crawling over Enoki’s frozen body, and spears herself onto the massive rod. Enoki struggles to keep herself staring at November, the succubus riding her at an agonizingly slow pace. November leans in, cheeks still bulging, and kisses Enoki, pushing her cum into her own mouth.

“Delectable. And fertile…very fertile.” November smacks her lips. “Thanksgiving, come try her.”

“Mkay!”

The bimbo cow joins November. She may be a head shorter than the futanari, but she matches her in mass. November helps guide her onto the engorged rod, keeping her tail tight around the base. Thanksgiving lets out a loud moo as she slides onto the massive cock, one which November interrupts with a kiss. Thanksgiving’s tongue explores November’s mouth, licking up every drop of Enoki’s initial load. The futanari would twitching and frothing if she was still in control of her body, her cock squeezed tight by the minotauress’s wet pussy.

“Wowie! You’re soooo right! My slutty hole is, like, so hungy for her futa swimmers!” Thanksgiving bounces in place, oblivious to Enoki’s continued torture. “Gosh, if you let go…She’d stuff me so full of—Moooooo!~”

November’s tail lets go, and a tidal wave of cum crashes into Thanksgiving. She throws her head back, November latching onto her fat tits with a smirk to drink in the milk spraying from her climax. Thanksgiving’s stomach gurgles, swelling with every dense shot of jizz invading her womb. November swallows the milk, rubbing Thanksgiving’s consecutive tit sprays all over her body until Enoki’s cock shudders to a stop. November gets behind Thanksgiving and gropes her tits, spraying jets of milk into a near comatose Enoki’s mouth. Thanksgiving sits up and waddles back to her seat, masturbating Enoki’s cum out of her snatch as she sucks milk from her own boobs. November runs her foot over Enoki’s stunned face in an act of superiority, a sprinkle of her arousal mixing with the cum all over Enoki’s chest.

“Still so proud? How foolishly adorable.” November’s face is like stone, even as her fingers dig deep into her snatch, her arousal flowing down her leg and smearing all over Enoki’s face. “Did you think that your elders would be so easily usurped? That we’d all bow down to your majestic futanari cock? Brute force isn’t everything, dear. And even then, there is one you cannot hope to beat as you are now.”

“Quinn’s taint, November. Quit playing with her and let me have a turn!” Fools cackles. “Why bother foreshadowing her inevitable confrontation with that flat-chested monster, anyways?”

November scoffs and takes her toes out of Enoki’s mouth, sashaying her fat ass in full view of Enoki as she returns to her seat. Fools shifts Enoki so that she’s upside down, with her muscular legs in a full split. Fools rubs his cock against hers, the two thick rods engorging from the friction.

“Guys, this is going to sound crazy—”

Most of what comes from Fools is crazy. This is the incubus that developed the potion to turn ejaculations into confetti. Everyone braces themselves.

Except he gives Enoki’s tight pussy a lick and hums in surprise. His tongue explores her depths, the futanari’s eyes rolling back under her massive rack.

“—Mlem…wow, Lady Quinn went all out on this one. There are taste trails leading to her g-spots!”

“No way!” Valentine swoops in and stuffs her face in Enoki’s ass. A few moments later, Enoki groans and sprays femcum and jizz. “Cool! Her butthole too!”

The rest of the demons watch on, Fools and Valentine taking turns eating Enoki out as they negotiate. Apparently, Fools intends on using a lot of the newly available land in the north for a personal project. Valentine offers some of what she has because she wants to get Fools’ psychologist girlfriend to help some of the harpies. Enoki is forced to listen to their conversation, trembling as her own cock shoots load after load into her tits and face.

The meeting winds down.

Only New Year and Fools have anything that can remotely match September’s contribution. New Year brags that she found a way to make plastic from demon cum, whereas Fools one-ups her with nylon.

The three of them are sure to be rewarded by Quinn. You click your tongue.

The Shipborn decide to get ahead of the curve by letting New Year and Fools use Enoki as a sex doll for the rest of the day. Even as New Year bounces her cum-bloated body deep on Enoki’s magnificent rod, as Fools’ cock hammers into Enoki’s spraying pussy, the futanari maintains the regal aura of a top just waiting for her chance to dom the two demons using her as a sex toy.

You’re sure of it now, even after she’s doused in so many different incbui’s jizz. Her proud yellow eyes glare with the intense desire to prove herself equal to the Shipborn.

She has to play Gilgamesh.

There are several reasons pirates prefer airships to seaships. For one, even if airships are more expensive the ocean is full of fucked up stuff that make seaships disappear faster than a gambler’s paycheck. For another, pirate airships aren’t limited to intercepting merchants above the seas, but any poor schmuck on land without any way to fight back.

Some Pirate Lords prioritize sponsorships for crews specialized in air-to-ground raids. Pirate Lords like Black, Xernsis, and the minotaur sitting across from you, Zwelle, make a killing raiding isolated towns in Reeds and the UCCES. Zwelle crosses his scarred arms across his broad chest, acting as an impartial party between you and Goldwing.

Normally, you’d trust Missy to negotiate for you. You are technically her underling at Nancy’s Tavern…but she’s busy with something. Not even Sunday knows where she is.

Leaving you, Rumpelstiltskin, stuck with a grumpy harpy and a minotaur that looks like he can pop the head off anybody dumb enough to annoy him.

Thankfully, he’s got his anger aimed directly at Goldwing. You were worried at first, since he barely spoke a word to you throughout the time you had his notes mass-produced via printing press. Like Black, he keeps a bunch of whores at a hideout outside of Nancy’s Tavern, so you haven’t had an in with any of his direct subordinates. But as the meeting dragged on, Zwelle’s anger continued to rise behind his indifferent disposition.

Goldwing complains. A lot.

You proposed a deal for the goods pirates need, as an olive branch. Textiles, wood, water, food…Nope. Not good enough. Goldwing has access to these resources already thanks to his semi-legitimate trade business.

How does a pirate get away with legal trade? You’ll need to look into that later.

Prillia has plenty of gems, both natural and magically produced. You offer him exclusive rights to the gems leaving Haven, but he refuses, claiming it’d tank the value of the gems he already has.

Even when you offer to buy his sex slaves at a massive markup, with the promise that he and his underlings would get 75% off at all participating Temptation Inc. locations, Goldwing crosses his wings and doesn’t budge.

He always falls back on his demand for you to pay him a tax for the goods coming into Nancy’s Tavern, clinging to his position as the only trading pirate. For you, it’s not about the money. But there’s only so much you can give up to make this annoying old harpy give you a break.

“How about this?” You hold up Haven’s newest exclusive product. “Nylon. It’s breathable, prevents chafing, and it’s sexy!”

“What use would I have for such a thin and fragile product?” Goldwing scoffs.

“Maybe sell it as a luxury good via the trade route you love so much?” You smile twitches, patience is wearing thin. “Clearly, you of all people should be able to sell this.”

Greed and pride clash in his soul. You’d think greed would win, but the bastard is more interested on making trouble for you than making a profit.

“Ridiculous.”

You know what? Fine! The buff minotaur, peak of masculinity, is bound to see the alluring potential of the pantyhose. You’re about to put it on when you remember you have harpy legs, with harpy claws that would easily tear through the material if you have to try them on.

In fact, nobody in the room has human legs. Shit, think fast!

“Pirate Lord Zwelle, if you don’t mind taking off your shirt for a demonstration?”

Amused and a bit curious, he takes off his armor to reveal his manly torso, crisscrossed with pale scars. You keep yourself from licking your lips and get him to pull the pantyhose up one of his arms. He moves his arm around, flexing his biceps to strain the nylon, and it holds. Then he puts on a pauldron and checks his range of motion, his thrumming hum making your insides do somersaults.

With Thursday gone and so few minotaurs in Haven, you haven’t had the chance to have fun with a big ol’ beefcake. A recent project of yours turned out well enough to help ease that urge, though you find yourself hungry for more as you look at Zwelle.

“What’s the point?” Goldwing glares. “It’ll tear like any other fabric.”

“No chafing under the armor.” Zwelle rumbles. “Very stretchy. It’s good product.”

Not for its intended purpose…eh, who cares? A dub is a dub is a dub! Now if you play your cards right, you can rubadubdub Zwelle’s cock~

“I don’t see how such a product can be sold.” Goldwing grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’ve seen enough.” Zwelle grunts and begins to leave. “Rumpelstiltskin, or whatever its name is, has provided more than enough effort to make concessions. Necessary resources, valuable gems, elite luxuries…and you still refuse to make any deals. I know for a fact that the daimyo you’re dealing with in Reeds would pay much for either the gems or the nylon. As for Glacia, I’m sure they would not refuse any of the goods presented. I will not stay here while you continue to act in bad faith.”

Wow. That’s the most you’ve heard him say in the weeks you’ve met him. And what was that about Reeds and Glacia?

“But—”

“Enough. I will report to the other Lords that this matter is closed.” The minotaur puts the rest of his armor on, keeping the pantyhose on his arm.

“If you continue with this…” He waves his hand vaguely. “I will be forced to cut what few ties we have. As for you, demon…I expected worse from you. Consider me pleasantly surprised, and interested in this nylon. I will be recommending it to my captains.”

A whole bunch of pirate captains wearing skimpy nylon under their armor? You fistpump.

Goldwing seethes in his chair and you give him a seductive grin.

“You know what’ll make you feel better after that embarrassing performance? How about I suck your—”

“Sod off, lecher.”