Teemo and Tristana's Date Night
Teemo and Tristana go on a 'date' to see a show and share some drinks at a local establishment. The yordles quickly find their night interrupted by a gang of boisterous men. Tristana takes care of them handedly! Leaving Teemo to wonder why her makeup has gotten so runny, and where she went missing... (Some perspective shifting is employed to deepen the narrative.)
Tristana was quite the mirror to Teemo's enthusiasm. This gave the scout a lot of confidence. He wasn't certain he'd get along with such a rough and tumble girl, but hoped their shared interest in ranged weapons might spark into something greater.
What better place to break the ice than the local inn, he thought. The tavern was playing host to all manner of troubadours, actors, jesters and dancers. The ale was cold, the food salty and greasy, and the entertainment jovial and exciting. At least, that is what Teemo hoped for.
Trouble started nearly immediately when the two yordles found themselves sitting in front of a bundle of gruff humans. Neither yordle could be sure, but they guessed the men may have been off duty soldiers come to blow off some steam.
Their hooting, hollering and heckling was annoying at first. But as the minutes dragged on, and their drink began to really settle in, they did nothing but spoil Trist and Teemo's evening. The scout was absolutely seething, his beige fur bristling. This was a terrible first date! He couldn't believe it, those big brutes spoiling the mood this badly.
The two of them had been whispering complaints and giving each other looks all evening. And as they began to get a little drunk too, their courage rose and rose.
"I ought to give them a piece of my mind, or a few darts from my pipe, huh?" Teemo said, half-joking. Something deep in him didn't want to actually pick a fight with five fully grown human men. A recipe for disaster and some missing teeth by his reckoning.
Trist on the other hand was far more of a firebrand than Teemo. He spoke, and she stood. "I'm going to give them a chat! A what-for. Just hold on a second, okay, Teemie?"
Before he could levy a complaint or even grab for her wrist, she stood and walked away. The humans were on a raised platform above them. The tavern had tables set in tiers, to give everyone a good view of the stage below. Teemo traced Trist's path through the tables on their ring, to the center stairs, and the back up and behind to the humans in the booth behind them.
Craning his neck to watch her was irritating, and shifty looks from the humans dissuaded him from staring too long. Not to mention Trist constantly signaling, 'I'm fine', with a dismissive wave of her hand and a smile.
Teemo sighed, and trusted her instincts, wondering if he could back her up. He ran his thoughts through what the masculine and appropriate thing to do was. And while he was fretting over making a good impression, a human made an impression on Trist's ass with his hand.
Before the little blue vixen could even say something, a man with a red neckerchief swung his palm down and cupped her ass in a loud slap drowned out by the thrill of the tavern. Trist's golden eyes went wide and she meeped.
Teemo was getting antsy. He kept his neck stiff and he didn't look behind him. He trusted Trist. He just worried she was in over her head. But that thought kept coming to him, to not seem overbearing. He didn't want to look insecure. Yeah, keep that back straight and let her be independent. No girl wants a guy who controls them, tosses them around like a toy, and abuses them.
Girls like Trist appreciate guys who respect their boundaries. Like Teemo. So the less-than-merry boy scout enjoyed the show. Singers, dancers, and jesters. But their jokes and dulcet tones brought him little pleasure. Not with the nagging itch of not-knowing hanging off his shoulder.
Eventually he turned his head over his shoulder to look at those men. They'd quieted down, but Trist wasn't anywhere to be seen. Instead, Scar was stood behind the booth, while the others looked back at him.
"Hey! Watch it, mister! You lot have been rude all night. Me and my date have been trying to enjo—"
Heeding nothing of her complaints, she was scooped into the lap of the same one who'd grabbed her ass. Trist's head spun a bit with her drunkenness, and the sudden touches flared something in her. She had inhibitions just low enough to think about the feeling, but not enough willpower to push the thoughts aside.
"Fuck him, why don't you spend the night on my lap instead?" Red ran his hands shamelessly across her small body. He felt huge compared to her, his entire form encompassed all of her. He could throw her around like a ragdoll.
That surge of adrenaline and wonderment at what the hell they'd do, mixed with the alcohol, to convert instead into raw and unfiltered arousal. Perhaps it was a natural bodily reaction to such forced touches, perhaps Tristana's inner being was sluttier than she liked to admit. Regardless of which, she was already beginning to feel herself dampen.
She tried to pull her eyes from the leering glances of the humans to check on Teemo. Her 'date' was doing nothing but fidgeting. She could practically see his neck twitch as he considered looking back and stopped himself. Wouldn't want to be the overbearing nice guy, right, Teemo?
"So what did you want to tell us, little yordle? That you were looking for some real men to spend the night with?" Another man with a scar across his lower lip asked. The scar, pinkish and glistening, looked new. It expanded slightly as he spoke, and gave him a brutal visage when mixed with his ruggedly handsome looks.
"I have a name, than-thank you very much! It's Tristana."
"Nice to meet you Trist, your pussy as sweet as your voice?" Red jokingly asked.
She felt her whole body flex and clench at the pointedly lewd statement, and the dip of a hand past her belt and panties right to between her legs.
"Oh, she's wet."
"I knew it. All yordles are whores. Hey did you hear what happened to that one bitch, uh, Popp—" The youngest looking one asked, his blue-eyes twinkling with the thought of the lustful gossip.
"Nevermind that! Put her down a sec, I want to see something," Scar demanded.
One stood with haste, the other four looking at him. His friend, who was patting Trist's pussy, much to her veiled pleasure, let her go. She tumbled free and found herself standing beside Scar.
She looked up, and her long and fluffy ears fell flat as her mouth widened. It dawned on her just how large these men were, easily double her height. And the fact that she was perfectly aligned with their groins.
That was just what Scar wanted to check, the bulge of his fat prick already swelling in his pants. Trist felt her nose twitch, the bestial part of her brain detecting the dense scent of a virile male. Yordle senses were not quite so advanced as other races, closer to a human's, but that didn't mean those receptors didn't work. The same neurons firing off that told her she should really submit to these men were only given fuel when she huffed the smog of Scar's groin.
The man put his hand to her right ear and pinched the piercing she had there, tugging it slightly. "Cute. Why don't you give me a blowjob and I'll think about not breaking your boyfriend over my knee?"
"O-oh he's not my boyfriend!" Trist said, still gawking up at him like someone admiring a full moon. It was telling, not only to the men but to Trist herself, that it was more important to declare distance to Teemo than to decline the blowjob.
It made her mouth wet, and her thick little thighs grind together. The idea of giving these men a blowjob right behind Teemo. The rest of the tavern couldn't give less of a fuck about her or what the men were doing, too focused on the rambunctious singer on stage. And now that these humans had something entertaining to capture their eye, they'd fallen quiet.
The clutch at the back of her neck with one hand, whilst the other undid his pants, made Tristana freeze up. She felt like a kit grabbed by the scruff of its neck, simply along for the ride.
Tristana was moved, her whole form tossed to the back of the booth, butt against the wood paneling. She couldn't even look around her to see if there were any voyeuristic observers, for Scar's entire body eclipsed her range of vision.
And, as the button of his pants clicked with their releasing, and his cock came into view, her eyes went cross on it. The room spun a bit, spurred on by her drunkenness but no less because of the scent of his human dick. The skin glistened slightly with the sweat that lay along the base and his tensing sack of nuts.
Not that Trist would know yet, but just one of this man's acorns put to shame Teemo's entire package. It simply was a matter of biology, and yordles of his caliber couldn't compare. Tristana was lust struck by such a vast totem of masculinity, and no resistance brewed in her.
That suited Scar well, because he really wanted to empty his balls down her throat. To that effect he held her mouth open with a thumb, and aimed his prick down her gullet. There was a gag, quickly stifled by him making room in her throat for his prick. It was perfect! He didn't have to bend his knees, nor move anything but his hips. She was aligned exactly to cock height.
Anyone looking from the side would see Trist, her eyes shut and streaming mascara-tears, as her head was thumped against the booth by the rock of the man's thrusts. Her throat swelled and bulged with his aggressive fucking of her mouth. The saline taste of sweat hastily replaced by the more pure taste of pre-cum. The warmth and wetness of her slobbering throatpussy had Scar grunting in pleasure in short order.
Between her legs, a heat swirled, every panicked what-if she conjured up only bringing a more passionate pulse of pleasure. And without any ability to diffuse that arousal, it merely grew and grew, seeping into her clothing and dampening her panties through. The grind of her furry yordle thighs were all she could hope for, her hands were too busy clutching the human's ass for dear life.
In due time, Scar ejaculated into her cum dumpster of a mouth gracelessly. Frenetic and short-stroked humps marked the final bursts of seed. The thick white stuff globbed up in Trist's throat, against her tongue, coating her uvula. She choked on it a moment, coughing, but trying to swallow every bit.
"Hey, your boy is calling for you," Red growled at Trist.
That made her stand up straight, her ears perking up over the booth's edge. Thank the fates she was hidden by the furniture, at least Teemo didn't see her suck that guy off. What she'd not realized in her drunken and oxygen deprived state, was the mess Scar had made of her makeup.
Her cheeks ran with black streaks, her reddened lips were a smudged mess. Worst of all, a few strands of cum leaked from the edges of her mouth and chin. Detecting none of this, she rounded the side of the booth to assuage Teemo's concerns.
The male yordle looked so meek, goofy boy-scout that he was. He gave her a dopey eyebrow of concern, shrugging. The distance between them, and the loudness of the tavern, was too much to speak words.
If they could, Teemo would be asking if she were crying. And if she could, she'd be talking too fast for him to ask any questions so as to not have to explain why her breath smelled like cum.
As it was, she merely shrugged and waved and smiled, overbearing Teemo with dismissive signals and ignoring his inquiring ones. Teemo relented, clearly disappointed in doing so, turning his head awkwardly forward once more to the show.
What was happening, and where the hell was his date? He tried to get their attention, but it was hardly an easy task. When he finally caught their eye, Trist appeared from beside Scar. The loud din of the club meant words couldn't be exchanged, but he gave her a pleading look.
Her make up was messy. Had she been crying? She was smiling, and it looked like she had a bit of beer on her lips. Or maybe something else, he couldn't see well in the dim club. Trist gave nothing but signals that she was okay, and despite the concern bubbling up in him, he had to relent to her wishes. No girl liked an overbearing guy.
Trist had nary a second to catch her breath before Red had her ear in his hand like she was a dead rabbit. He yanked her to look at him, pulling her back into the concealment of the booth proper.
Red didn't want to stand, but he didn't give a fuck if Trist didn't. He impaled her mouth down on the cock he already had stiff and waiting for her. The taste was divine. Human dick. It was cool. That was her thought, mindless and simple as it was, her cocklust was such that complex thoughts eluded her mind and only the most base notions go through.
It made a swarm of electric signals tingle up and down her spine to be used in this way. When Red was banging his glans against her tonsils, he was also mindfucking her feminine hindbrain. Slipping his dominance into her psyche with each cunt-aching, gagging thrust.
Blue-eyes, young and impatient, inadvertently did Trist a favor. He scooted along her side, nudging past his friends to give a look to her pussy. After all, it wasn't every day he got to fondle a yordle bitch. He had the slightest desire to keep concealed, and actually peeked at Teemo to check if the coast was clear.
Aside from Mr. Boyscout twitching and tapping his ale awkwardly, it was fine. So he yanked down Trist's pants past her ass. The big blue moon he'd revealed was still covered by a modest pair of panties. But that was no defense.
She murmured and tried to protest, doing little but shaking her ass encouragingly. She couldn't talk very well with Red keeping her suffocating on his prick. So, without any complaints from the lady and nothing but motions that egged him on, Blue-eyes dug his fingers past her panties.
Her bitching stopped immediately, a vibrating moan of thanks rumbling Red's dick, which he appreciated. Blue-eyes began to tinker and finger Trist, it was painfully teasing. But at least she'd gone from no touch on her pussy to something. Each probing, sliding fingertip made her warble and groan on the cock that had her muted.
Blue-eyes explored her sex slowly and surely. His digits were larger than Trist's own, and each slow rub down of her labia that traced back to her clit had her cunt quivering. If she could speak, she'd be begging for it. She was already trying, practically blubbering with need on Red's dick.
Which did little aside from work him up. The feeling of her rumbling throat teasing his dick was just sublime. Sooner than he'd want, his balls were tensing and his cocksnot was pumping into her stomach. Spurts of jism leaked from her nostrils with the force of his orgasm, spilling from her lips back to his nuts.
Trist's cunt spurted in kind, not an orgasm, but an edge. Clear droplets of her adoration squirting from her box to the floor of the tavern shamelessly. Blue-eyes thought it was all his doing, but that feeling of Red cumming is what really did it.
The fun was interrupted suddenly by Teemo. The yordle was spared the shame of discovering exactly what Trist was doing only by Blue-eyes' back covering her ass.
"Tristana, are you okay?"
That brought her back to reality. A sobering jolt made her spring to action. She stood up as Blue-eyes leaned back, her hand deftly pulling her panties and pants back into position. The salacious peek made Teemo's heart throb. By the time he saw it, it looked as nothing more than an innocent low-rise reveal from her bending over.
She also had the good sense to spit out the cum she'd just gulped down, so the gummy sight of it wouldn't be so obvious. She gulped and faced him, a bit bleak with surprise. "Huh?"
"Are you okay?" He asked, his earnest plea slurred by his inebriated state.
She nodded, swallowing again. "I'm good, yeah, hah. Just, uhm, putting these guys in their place."
Blue-eyes grinned, adding a useless, "she sure is," whilst glowering down at Teemo.
The scout pulled his eyes from the glare of the young man and returned it to the disheveled Trist. "Why were you bending over under the table?"
"I dropped my coin purse, she fetched it for me. Being so tall has some disadvantages. Namely getting into tight spaces," Red offered as an excuse.
Trist let free a sigh of relief, not having to come up with something. Between the beer and the lack of air, her mind wasn't moving as fast as it should.
Scar had returned from wherever he stepped away too, a new round of drinks in his hands. He pumped Teemo aside with his waist as he passed. "Yeah. We tend to stretch out tight places we gotta fit into. Ruins them."
Whether or not Teemo understood his meaning wasn't clear, but it certainly gave Trist's date pause.
"Hey, why-why don't you get a fresh drink and come join us?" Trist offered.
"Good idea. You can pay our tab while you're at it," Scar smirked, loaning the drinks out.
"You don't mind, right, 'friend'?" Blue-eyes asked, putting a hand on Teemo's shoulder with a heavy weight on it.
Teemo looked to Trist, who nodded approvingly. With an exhale bearing reluctance, he turned his back and hurriedly made to get a swig.
This was enough. It had almost been a half-hour, if not more, of him sitting alone. They were tying her up too long. Teemo gathered up his courage and stormed past those in his row, up and around to the men.
When he arrived, Blue-eyes turned toward him, just as Trist was coming up from being bent over the lap of Red. Bending over had tugged down her pants, and she hastily restored her modesty. Not wanting to stare, Teemo did the right thing and quickly averted his eyes.
"Tristana, are you okay?" He said, trying to keep his voice straight despite the alcohol in him.
What followed was a demeaning conversation that made Teemo feel about three inches tall. All five of the men there speaking down to him, pushing him around, and Trist was too busy trying to set them straight to help him.
At the very least, they'd calmed down, but they had the audacious request to pay their tab. At first Teemo snarled with distaste at the very suggestion. But when Trist encouraged him, he saw it instead as a chance to show just how much more responsible and mature he was. Compared to these thugs, he was a prize worth keeping - and Trist was sure to see that.
So he once again left Trish and those humans to their devices, alone. Without his supervision, she was surely able to handle herself. Unfortunately for the scout, the line at the bartop was long. And it was a curious battle to not only be seen due to his diminutive size, but to comprehend the actual expense these humans had levied.
Their tab was huge! Easily a week's wage when accounting for all five of them, himself, and Trist! It was ridiculous. But the barman had no sympathy, and once Teemo had stupidly said he'd pay for it, the barman wouldn't hear an alternative. It was clear this tab had been hanging over his head and he wasn't going to let a chance at actually seeing the coin slip by.
"That's mean! You can't make him pay for all of you," Trist whined once Teemo had left.
The gloomiest among them, with skin tanned from work under the sun and a sour disposition, finally spoke up. "Then why didn't you protest, little yordle?"
Gloom pulled Trist by her wrist into his lap from past Red, holding onto her chest like it was bags of treasure. Cupping and groping her tits. Her as-of-yet unsatisfied arousal perking again with that feeling of her nipples being attacked.
Through the material of her shirt and bra his hands found and pinched her soft pink buds aggressively. "Hm? Answer me."
Her eyes fluttered, what had he asked? She couldn't recall, she was too focused on that feeling. The heat between her legs touching the bulge between his. The feeling of being in his lap. The idea of bouncing on his cock, right here in the middle of the bar.
She patted herself down, her unconscious mind conjuring up what he had surely asked her. Gloom, clearly, had asked if he could bone her proper. So she searched for the condoms she'd brought in case Teemo got lucky.
She demurely, blushingly, turned her head back to the swarthy man and offered the packaged prophylactic to him.
A riotous belly laugh rose from him, completely taken aback by her offer. Like hyenas seeing a weakened antelope, the other men suddenly found their hunger again. Tight, sweet, yordle snatch offered up on a silver platter? Not one of them dared to be found wanting.
For Gloom, and the final among their number, a bulky lad who was all brawn and no brains, this was a splendid surprise. A bit of head is what they'd set their sights on for this evening. But now Trist was signaling them in for the real thing. And they didn't even have to force her.
Gloom bundled her up in his arms and carried her away like a trophy seized from a siege. The other men followed, not so dignified in how they drained their drafts before leaving. Some of them nearly looked like Trist, what with the suds of their ale rolling down the sides of their mouth.
Gloom took her somewhere more discreet. The men's bathroom. He could think of a no more romantic place to fuck the yordle into pieces. He kicked open one of the doors to the stall with a slam, tossing her up against the wall and pinning there with his hand while he disrobed his lower half.
Tristana couldn't say she felt very romantic, but she undeniably felt womanly. After all, a man was using his full force to claim her body, while she sheepishly waggled a condom at him from between her fingers. Desperately trying to remind him to use protection.
It was with great reluctance that Gloom ripped open and rolled on the rubber. But he didn't want to deal with any bitching or crying. It was tight, made for a yordle's prick and not the rod he was lugging.
All that did was add frustrated vigor to his plunging over her depths. Carelessly and with no regard for giving her pleasure, he forced himself in. It was hardly a struggle, after all she'd been making a pond out of her panties for the entire night. And this was no different.
A single feminine croak of pain blended pleasure rang out, looking left to the line of humans ready to take their turn next. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, drool and cum leaking down her lip as she realized this wouldn't be a brief ordeal.
That was hardly an unsavory thought, after all, Gloom was hitting the back board of her box with such force and vigor she thought she'd cum after just a moment or two. But the rattle of the stall, the grime of her cheek scrapping those walls, and the awkward bend of her back as she was fucked into it all worked to keep her edge tame. It did nothing but draw out the pleasure further, refusing her a quick and mind-clearing orgasm, and keeping her in that filthy and depraved subspace.
For Gloom, he counted himself fortunate to get to remodel fresh yordle cunt. She was tight. Emphasis on 'was'. Each pumping of his cock softened up her clenching cunt-muscles. Driving home a truth that her pussy was for human dick, and yordle males could make due with their hand. Each burrowing of his fat shaft against her cervix implanted a truth in her that human dick simply hit different.
And that new hunger for feeling herself be spread and possessed did not disappear when she felt the condom balloon and fill inside her. Gloom ejaculated with force, the seed all thankfully caught in the rubber, as he held her nose even harder against the wall. She looked like a fuckpig, what with her face delirious with pleasurable servitude, and her pussy leaking down this guy's balls.
Someone had tossed Gloom a bit of charcoal, rounded and cut to a prism, it was for marking walls, armor and armaments. But it would work fine on yordle fur. He added a single dense black tally to her ass, slapping the opposing cheek, which produced a girly meep from her throat.
The stall hardly handled the last few creaking pumps of Gloom, the legs threatening to yank free from the floor. It wouldn't hold up against Brawn.
Like salt in the wound, once he'd begrudgingly coughed up the coin, Teemo returned to an empty booth and empty mugs. No men, and no Trist. Fear and panic set it, but then aggravation. Where had they gone!?
His pensive, angry state was halted in its tracks by a need to relieve himself of all the ale he'd drunk. He toddled over to the men's room with consternation on his brow.
Just like the bartop, the men's room was packed. It shouldn't be a surprise, the entertainment had drawn a huge crowd. He nudged and pushed past the many men clogging the front door, only to be met with an awful sound.
Awful not in its actual auditory profile, but awful in the implications. It was a woman in pleasure, the sweet and serene sounds of a girl being given the time of her life. In the men's room. It made Teemo's heart sink, but he couldn't deny the arousal beginning to spring between his legs. It was only natural...
The sound was coming from the first stall, but nothing allowed him a peek. A half dozen men or so were blocking the entryway and any hope of sneaking a look. Blue-eyes spotted him, and with a sly snicker, nudged him along.
"This is the men's room, not the little boy's room, keep moving." A shove with the young man's hand forced Teemo to tumble forward along to the adjoining toilet.
He growled back at him, rattling off in his head all manner of insults and threats. But first, he needed to piss. He got his little peck out, and had not a second of self reflection looking at the diminutive, slender thing and how it might compare to those men.
Beside him the stall rattled and shook, and there was a soft plap of something falling to the ground. Beside his foot paw, from under the edge of the dividing wall rolled a tied off condom. Jiggly and filled with cum.
Blood drained from his expression as he considered for a moment if it was Trist getting her back blown out right next to him. Wasn't that guy with the blue eyes at that table? He strained his ear, listening to the next man fuck the mystery woman beside him.
Her voice sounded like his date. Then it didn't. Then it did. A hoarseness, then a softness. The throes of passion and his own lust and liquor addled mind bobbling between both possibilities.
His hand went between his legs without thinking, just gasping and holding his hard prick. He only needed a few fingers to get himself off. He was nothing like, say, Brawn for instance. The very sight of that human's cock might give him a heart attack.
As Gloom tied his condom off and tossed it to the floor, and Trist was allowed to sink to her knees and piss out pathetic squirts with each edge, Brawn stepped up to bat. A fitting description, as his cock was nearly the length and width of a club. Trist looked up at it with the same concern she gave an enemy on the battlefield.
This reservation and examination came to her eyes. 'Could her and boomer fell this enemy?' was instead a question of 'Could her and her snatch handle this cock?'
She'd be getting an answer immediately, as he wasted no time in grasping her by the waist with a single hand and tossing her against the back wall, placing her over the toilet.
Brawn wanted to look down at her eyes and see the shock in them while he split her open, so he held her facing him. Her shoulders dug into the tile of the wall she was forced against, her head positioned to look down across her disheveled body. Her shirt and bra had become loose from the groping and she'd not even noticed.
Where had her pants and panties gone? Oh, well, at least her panties still dangled from one ankle. Just as she caught sight of the folded up rumple of cloth that was her pants, Brawn knocked on the door of her pussy with his glans.
His cock head pulsed with a threatening redness. And his smile, missing a few teeth but gleaming with glee, gave her little hope this would be a smooth ride.
She exhaled and relaxed best she could, and Brawn thanked her for that by ramming himself into her pussy in one fell stroke. Tristana felt like something broke. But there was no pain. Only this rampant spike of her body making way for a splendid cock. Her muscles, usually tightened and poised to give pleasure, eased and released. The slack provided this strange, ebbing soreness. It caused a worry in her that she was loath to admit produced an insane amount of pleasure.
The fullness couldn't be ignored, nor the bulge his cock provided her torso. Brawn's every thrust visible against the sliding fur of her belly as he grunted and groaned. She felt stuffed from toe to throat, her flexing and balling feet clutching at the tingling pins and needles that prickled them. Was the force of his cock such that it was cutting off circulation, or was the pleasure in her humming nethers so potent it was frying her nerves?
The slap of his balls to her tight and clenched ass cheeks set the tempo for her pleasure to spike. His right hand palmed the wall, but his left hooked itself in her mouth. She found herself suckling and drooling around a thick human thumb making the most serenely whorish expression at him that Brawn had ever seen.
Hardly could find better encouragement to blow ropes in a bitch than the sounds and faces Trist was making. Brawn let loose a low and uncharacteristically peaceful sigh of relief as he humped her over his edge and into the bliss of a raunchy ejaculation.
It was only when she felt her womb jizzed in raw, the shot streams of cum backwashing over his balls, fizzing free from the tight and tired lips of her snatch, that she realized he wasn't wearing protection. By then it was far too late, and she could only twitch her legs, relishing the feeling of being nutted in raw by a man who's name she'd never heard. And that tipped her over the hill like a domino slapped by its twin.
The slutty moan she gave, muffled only partly by his thumb, rang out to hoots and hollers of approval from the other men. The hissing sound of her orgasm spraying against Brawn, and sight of her whole body tensing and going limp brought immense joy to those waiting for their turn.
Because there were others. Of course there was. And not just those original five either.
Brawn added his tally, and something else along her leg. 'Tight' along her left thigh., but with a ghoulish chuckle, crossed it out. A good notice to all those that came after him that she was indeed, tight.
Teemo's mind fluttered with all manner of sordid fantasies. Each one spurred on and enhanced by the tossed aside, unused condoms, or the jiggly and cum-stuffed tied ones.
The yordle explorer surprised himself, he didn't usually last this long. Each twitching stroke of his two-fingered dicklet pumping drove him mad with a needful heat. He was going to make a move on Trist tonight for sure! Especially after all he'd done for her. Like paying for those guy's drinks.
Perhaps it was the public setting, or the alcohol, but Teemo held on for several men in a row. He tracked them by the pauses, the grunts and murmurs, and the fluids collecting on the floor. The clear speckles of a girl orgasm, and the soiled yellow-white of fresh, filthy cum dripping from her abused cunthole.
Trist had not once ever imagined herself on the receiving end of a gangbang even in her wildest fantasies. But she threw herself into it. It was easy, all she needed to do was spread her legs. Some of them used condoms, some of them didn't, forcing themselves raw into her.
All of them adorned her meek, pleasure-shivering, sweaty body with at least a tally. But as more faceless men came and went, soon she was covered in epithets. 'Whore', 'slut', 'cocksucker', 'ass-licker', 'cum toilet', and a dozen tally marks lay across her fur.
One man had grabbed her from her splayed out position over the toilet and forced her head to his backside, holding her there. She was blowjob height, that meant she was rimjob height. The scent of a man's virile, sweat-slick ass made her kind of needy.
The act was degrading, hardly sexual for her, but that just made it better. She tippy-tapped the tiles with her feet as she licked his shaven hole, tongue-fucking his ass as a sign of respect. She was happy to degrade her mouth with his tailpipe, much to his pleasure. She even threw up a peace sign when she heard the other men laughing at her.
They were laughing with her, she hoped. But she didn't resist that. She also didn't resist the man who approached her with a strange device. She thought it was a gun at first but the handsome, trim human explained it was for piercings and that she was going to get one for him.
She wanted to say no, to refuse, especially when Trim explained 'where' her new jewelry was going. But Red and Scar held her arms and legs spread, allowing Trim to leave his mark on her, permanently.
He placed the piercing gun over her clit and rammed a thick metal bar capped with two beads through her pleasure bud. She exclaimed in pain but found that flash of agony replaced with a burning heat of desire. She looked down to see her clit twitch and jerk, stiff and obscenely erect. Her whorish, slutty desires throbbing from her clit for all to see, and torment.
Trim immediately gave it a tug and twist, slapping her messy pussy and wishing her a good night.
But as he cleared, there was no line behind him. Just Red and Scar holding her exposed, and Teemo, having finally dawdled out from his hiding place. The sound of pain had drawn him out.
And there he stood, shocked, meek, stiff as a brick and small as a pebble. With his hooker of a date, covered in bodily fluids and writing. She quickly tried to think of something, an explanation, and apology. Some way to make it better. But if tonight was any lesson, her only value was her body, and that became her apology.
"H-... hey, Teemo. Wh, want a turn?" She meekly asked with a 'sorry' smile, pushing her hips up at him...