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Snow began to fall, floating delicately along the zephyr. Before she was spirited away by the Demoneater's spell, Rhea had never left southeastern Balidan. Growing accustomed to the environments and peoples of Donnerheim was a challenge, though not insurmountable. It was still an ecosystem that proved to be utterly alien to her. A far cry from Northern Kijani or Khasmia.

Rhea had been traveling with Samson and Samara for three months since initially running afoul of the pair in Hallenstadt. She was learning to slowly shed her skepticism and belittling interpretations of her new companions, accepting the nuance present in them. There was more to Samson than a thickheaded, overly-sentimental brute. Samara was more than a gentle, motherly woman of the wilds. Both are extremely kind and genuine. Samson especially, who was more or less always wearing his heart on his sleeve. Rhea thought that his starry-eyed naivete and easily readable intentions were a weakness. At least it made interacting with him fairly simple.

Samara was far more mysterious, by comparison. The Serulan was a skilled empath, able to properly gauge a person's feelings and intent in mere moments. She must've been capable of maneuvering through social situations with ease. Because of this, Rhea assumed that Samara was hiding parts of herself from her and Samson. She assumed the druidess had even more to see than what the surface displayed.

Whatever the case, she finally felt that she was accompanying people she could relax around. Always watching behind your back, living in survival mode every day of your life, was tiring.

Samson and Samara were both capable in combat as well: Sam with his overwhelming strength and tinge of fae power, Samara wielding the wrath of nature, paired with an uncanny ability to pacify beasts. Could it be that she actually was safe around these two? In all honesty, the longer she spent with the pair, the more it seemed like that could be the truth.

Rhea would return to the clearing where the others had stopped to decide the next course of action. Not like there was much decision-making ever happening between those two. They tend to think similarly, acting on their whims more often than not. When they'd first told her that they were simply going wherever the wind took them, she had no idea how literal they were being. She was used to it now, of course. It was refreshing, even. This carefree lifestyle is something she enjoyed, something that she was deprived of until now.

Presently, Samara was drawing a circle upon a stone platform with her enchanted chalk. Rhea knew very well by now that it was a summoning circle that called forth a portal connecting any given point back to Samara's home. As long as the chalk outline of the portal remained intact, they could move freely from one point to the other, regardless of distance. Samson sat very close to her. Her faithful watchdog. "Welcome back, Rhea. How was your walk?" He'd ask.

"Good enough. Far colder out here than I'd like. Speaking of which, are you nearly done?" She was eager to get some quality rest tonight after their long day of traversing the Donneric wilderness. "Wouldn't you like to know." She teased, before she'd offer a real answer. "Though, I'm almost done. You'll have a warm dinner, and a comfortable bed. No need to worry." Worried? No. Impatient would be more accurate. It would appear that she was correct, as the viridian portal crackles into existence.

Samara would enter first, with Samson following close behind. Rhea lets out a sigh, before entering the green vortex.

The druidess' sprawling redwood home consisted of: a master bedroom, three guest bedrooms, a library, a kitchen, a dining area, a lounge, a bathing area, a storage area, and a room housing the portal's counterpart.

She couldn't help but be mesmerized by its grandeur, regardless of how many times she's visited already. Samara wasted no time going straight to the kitchen to prepare a meal for everyone. Samson would, of course, join to keep her company. Rhea would head elsewhere, wanting some time to herself.

The next few hours would play out fairly simply, with everyone eating dinner, taking turns bathing, and retreating to separate bedrooms. Samson and Samara shared the master bedroom, while Rhea occupied one of the guest bedrooms. She didn't mind the arrangement, a far superior alternative to roughing it out in the woods.

As she was preparing for her final routine before bed, a very familiar sound emanated from elsewhere within the arboresque residence. Moaning. Samara's moans of pleasure, to be exact. As per usual, her initial thoughts on the matter trended toward frustration. The two would do this with such an astounding frequency that she found it almost commendable, not to mention that these bouts of passion were rarely brief as well. Their endurance must be great, with a mutual desire that's even greater.

Thinking of that would usher in another feeling, one that far outweighs her annoyance with the situation: Lust. Her own desire. Though that wasn't the complete truth, it went deeper. It was a burning desire fueled by a deep jealousy.

It was something she denied during many of those long, lonesome nights. As she grew to trust them, acquiring a fondness for her companions---the harder it was to ignore. It was envy, through and through.

Rhea was a very cautious woman, in every aspect of her life. Sexually, she was no different. Due to this selectiveness, love and its accessories were often hard to come by. The current drought she was experiencing proved to be uncomfortably long. It was torturous, to be sure. Her last tryst occurred a little over eight months ago, being mostly encouraged by desperation. It was uncommon for her to seek someone out as a result of genuine interest, even more so for interest and desperation to align.

The more she listened to their lovemaking, the hotter the flame felt between her legs. Something had to be done about it. Urgently. Luckily, Rhea was only wearing her undergarments, so access wasn't an issue. She reaches downward, sliding a hand between fabric and flesh. Her flower had already been dripping with its nectar, weeping from the hopelessness of the situation. Though she longed for the touch of another, her own fingers would have to suffice for now.

She joins her index finger and middle finger, rubbing the clitoris gently. The digits move up and down at first, then would adopt a circular motion as she finds herself in need of a different approach.

The cat conjured several interpretations of their ongoing coitus within her sex-deprived brain, wondering what they did to release such intense pleasure. Her mind would soon have her wonder what intimacy with them was truly made of, inserting herself into the scenarios. The first of these images was that of rippling flesh. Bulging muscle that dominated a supple, eager body. A hard, crude implement plunging fast and deep into an all too willing paramour.

If the previous image entertained the idea of welcoming Samson into her bed, then the next was surely that of Samara. She saw glimpses of the wild-woman's tongue licking her all over with an unmatched salacity. No locus would be ignored by the Serulan, every erogenous feature receiving special attention.

The twin fantasies played over and over, intersecting at times. Her excitement climbs steadily, accompanied by the tingling and pulsating of vaginal muscle. The chaotic flame of temptation licked at her core with such voracity, demanding swift tribute.

She writhes, muscles tensing up as the orgasm suffused her body with intense ecstasy. Rhea quickly covered her mouth, stifling the otherwise audible moans. It was embarrassing enough that she was pleasuring herself to the noises of their intercourse, she didn't need them knowing of it.

She took a few minutes to recover: panting, sweating, twitching, marinating in contempt. Part of her wished to confront them, demanding retribution for them tormenting her in this way. Though she'd never actually do that. How could she? They'd been so benevolent towards her all this time, it wasn't something that could be easily overlooked. She had no intentions of upending the current order. She couldn't risk being alone, not while she believed Lambert's goons were still attempting to locate her. It didn't matter if she was on the other side of Azura or not, Lambert was a powerful man with many connections. He could have eyes anywhere.

This was her fate for now, it appeared. Relatively safe from the danger inherent to crossing Lambert, but forced to endure this intense craving. She releases a labored sigh, readying herself for bed---her heat abated for another night.

The next day of travel was very similar to the last, bereft of any real excitement. This was fine, though. Avoiding conflict was preferred to seeking it. The three would stay clear of most roads and trails, as her two allies both had an affinity for unmolested wilderness. Not a surprise seeing as they were both wildfolk, they were at home in this evergreen expanse.

Rhea had gotten less talkative as her condition worsened, becoming more irritable. Samara wisely gave her the distance she required. Samson took a bit longer to learn this, assuming he could do something to improve her mood. This wasn't meant to be, of course. He lacked the proper insight to determine why she grew subtly colder with each passing day. The exterior coldness betrays the fierce fire that burned within.

She wanted desperately, more than anything now, to be between those two. Invited into their bed. But, she couldn't just ask. Could she? No, the notion was absurd. So absurd that she thought disapproval would imminently follow such a request. Self-reliance was so integral to her identity, that seeking their assistance was simply not an option. She had to solve this on her own, somehow.

Could she try to seduce one of them? Both of them? Perhaps. She might just gain one's favor, building enough of a rapport to earn a recommendation to the other. This would work on Samson, she assumed. He seemed like a man that was receptive to flirtation.

No. No, no, no. Again, she was reminded of the possible risks. Being cast out from this group was far from ideal. What was to be done, then? She lamented this horrid tribulation, wondering why she deserved this wicked curse. The affliction that was further aggravated by her alluring company.

A familiar voice broke her concentration. "Rhea, you've been standing there for quite some time. Would you like to talk?" It was Samara, positioned a few feet behind her. Freed from her contemplation, Rhea took notice of her own position. She'd been leaning against a tree, her head resting on a folded arm. The feline was so deep in thought, that she failed to detect Samara's approach.

"I'm fine." She muttered. A bold-faced lie, of course. "The gateway has been ready for nearly ten minutes, I was hoping you'd join us for dinner." It was that time already? "Yes... Yes, just give me a moment. I'll be there shortly." Samara simply nodded, wandering back through the portal.

As soon as the Serulan disappeared, Rhea would punch the tree's wooden surface, bruising her knuckles against the unforgiving bark. She gritted her teeth, sliding down to her knees. Rhea thought she was doomed to fail. Forced to suffer through this bizarre fate. Her lip trembled, tears escaping from weary eyes. This dejection would cause the cat to do something that surprised even herself, an act that was rare for her---she sought relief by appealing to the gods. She was resorting to prayer.

"Amaryss, goddess of love, lady of passion. I beg of you, release me from this agony! My heart cannot bear it, and my body has failed me. Even my mind desires to abandon reason." She clasps her shaking hands together, continuing to plead with the unresponsive deity. "Please! I can't last much longer! The fire within has never burned this hot, I'll be consumed! Please rescue me from this nightmare. Please!"

She was met with silence. There wasn't even a slight breeze to stir the drooping branches hanging overhead. The gods never directly interfered with the mortal world, of course. It was unclear whether or not they still inhabited the cosmos in any meaningful manner, even. She just needed a sign. Some signal that her luck would change, if only slightly.

"Damn that woman. Her and that faithful hound. Why... Why do I lack the resolve? I just want some affection. A sliver, a single shard." She began to rub the tree, wishing it was instead the druidess' soft form. That woman had to know about her worsening condition, she must've been able to sense her need for intimacy. Did Samara not care? Did she even pity her? Regardless of the possible truths, the feline became addicted to the thought of being used by the duo. Being their plaything would be enough. Her sex salivated at the very thought, eager to fulfill that unlikely notion.

Her stomach would suddenly growl, coaxing her back to reality. She remembered the promise of dinner, suggested by the growing hunger. Rhea managed to stand herself up, legs still quivering from the burden of her sexuality. At least a warm meal was around the corner. She did her best to ignore the more powerful craving, heading through the ethereal entrance to join the others for dinner.

The feline prepared for slumber once more, ready to move on to the promise of tomorrow. The meal was good, at least. Sausage rolls and scones. Samara truly was a talented culinarian, specifically proficient in pastry baking. it was a much appreciated silver-lining, as well as a necessary distraction. Maybe she'd ask her to try crafting some foods from her arid homeland? Kijanan cuisine sounded like a delightful treat. She felt as if some shawarma or couscous would drastically improve her overall mood. She smiled, excited to propose the idea.

Approximately fifteen minutes afterward, she heard that titillating tune once more---the convergence of flesh. Again. They were fucking each other, again. This was the second night in a row. Not only that, but the noise was louder and more difficult to ignore than ever before. They were closer, growing bolder with their sordid activities. Naturally, her chaotic flame of desire returned without much time to mentally prepare. She clawed at the headboard, dragging her sharp nails across the ligneous surface.

"That bitch. She's doing this on purpose!" She groaned. Lust and wrath churned within her bosom, feasting in a nearly equal measure. Rhea reluctantly started to masturbate, hoping it would keep the fire content. To her dismay, it wasn't working. She hurriedly moved herself, grinding against the footboard to see if the results would somehow change. Her new method didn't appear to be a meaningful solution. She nearly screamed from the stress alone. What was she to do? What would free her from this great peril?

Then it dawned on her, she didn't just require auditory stimulation---But visual stimulation, as well. She needed to observe them. She chuckled to herself, proud of her ingenious solution. Rhea removed herself from the bed, eager to put her plan into motion. The door was opened with great finesse, her body moving deftly through the halls. She was emboldened by this enticing objective. Silent movement came easily with her experience as a thief, having stolen countless odds and ends with her delicate approach. She continued following the noise until she found its source. As she had inferred from earlier, they were indeed closer. Much closer than usual, as they've taken to using the lounge for their sexual recreation. She did her best to obscure herself behind an archway of tangled vines, standing at the threshold that joined the hallway to the lounge.

The feline leaned her head out, just enough to observe the two. Samson presently sat in front of Samara on a sizable settee, holding one of her plump legs upward as she was laying on her side. His manhood penetrated her anally, offering thrusts that were slow and deep. Anal insertion? The deviance at display was a unique sight for her, unique in that she rarely met others with similarly explorative needs. What had they been up to prior? Only the gods knew.

She examined them thoroughly, finding satisfaction with their naked physiques. It was a fitting contrast: Samson with his toned, sturdy musculature, and Samara with her many exaggerated curves. The sight of her rotund shape jiggling with every meaningful pump of the foxcat's rigid member was enough to drive Rhea into a frenzy, finding great difficulty in resisting the urge to invite herself over.

Her eyes continue following the lazuline shapes as a hand crept toward her drooling sex, fingers stroking sensitive flesh. She was assuming that her own panting and moaning would be drowned out entirely by Samara's howls. This had to be it, surely. A cataclysmic climax must be imminent, she only needed to continue playing the voyeur just a bit longer.

Much to her chagrin, their lovemaking ceased abruptly. Rhea muted herself in an instant, covering her mouth with the unoccupied hand. Samson removed himself from the Serulan, though no semen escaped along with his phallus---not even the smallest drop. They embrace, Samara giggling and whispering to her lover. The words were simply too hushed to interpret, she could only guess what they must be discussing. Why? Why had they stopped? The cat was hopelessly lost, confused by the odd turn of events.

Elucidation would arrive promptly, as Samara looked to the exact spot their audience-of-one was standing. She locked eyes with the feline, a smirk forming on her face. Rhea froze, completely still apart from her rapidly beating heart. How had she been discovered? It seemed impossible, she'd been so careful.

"Come out, little kitty. Don't try to hide." She said, beckoning her with that sultry voice. Whether or not she truly wanted to submit to the request didn't matter, as her legs refused to overcome the paralyzing fear and doubt that surged within. "You won't come to me yourself? That's quite alright, I have just the thing for you~" A green glow emanated from the druidess' outstretched hand as the surrounding plants sprung to life, several bewitched vines latching onto Rhea's wrists and ankles. Before she could even let out her first gasp, the slithering tendrils leisurely carried her over to the awaiting duo. Samson sat up, watching in amazement as the ensnared rogue was brought over to them. The grasping vines held her firmly in place, arms and legs spread out evenly. She only managed to speak a single word as she was helplessly suspended by the tendrils. "How?" The answer she desired would come quickly. "Whatever do you mean? How did I know you were there? I am an empath, Rhea. Did you forget? I felt your lust growing closer as you approached, it's so incredibly apparent. Inescapably heavy, really."

It seemed so obvious in hindsight. The Serulan could feel powerful emotions as an additional sense, she had no chance of sneaking her way around them to begin with.

Samson stood up, walking over to the incapacitated cat. He looked at her with those umbral eyes, his altitudinous body towering over her. "Can I... Touch you?" He'd say, as if he wasn't entirely confident of his actions.

"Do what you must." Rhea said, her terse words failing to indicate exactly how much she craved whatever it is he'd try to do. Sam smiled, stroking her muscular thigh with his broad fingers. Her body attempts to recoil involuntarily, a consequence of her current oversensitivity. The feline began whimpering in excitement from his warm touch, paired with the vulnerability imposed by the tightly-clinging restraints. His other hand would explore her abdomen, rubbing the defined musculature.

Samara, pleased with their current course, hobbles over to the others to get a better look.

"What have we here, dear Samson?" Samara said with a smile, placing a hand gently on his rear as she made it over to him. He doesn't reply immediately, taking his time with the massaging touches. "A very pretty kitty. It looks like she's in need of our love, Mara." The Serulan nods in agreement. "Yes, I couldn't agree more. Can't you just smell her desperation?"

As the two conversed, Rhea's attention drifted elsewhere---finally getting a decent look at the foxcat's girthy rod. The very thought of feeling its length slamming into her sent a shiver down Rhea's spine, could she even accommodate it? Did she have the resilience required for this task? It didn't really matter. She wanted it, this craving that ate at her for many arduous months would be satisfied despite all doubts.

Samson's rapacious hands would dispense with the introductory strokes, seeking the real treasures awaiting their grasp---removing the feline's undergarments. Sam and Mara both stop briefly to stare, examining the new visual stimuli. Samara giggled, brimming with glee. "Rhea, darling Rhea. You've been with us for some time now. And though some of our interactions were unpleasant to some degree, I believe I can speak for myself and Samson---we've grown fond of you. Sam especially, he admires you greatly~" She pauses briefly, continuing with a grand display of gesticulation to further emphasize her speech. "You are one of us, now. I know you feel it to be so, darling Rhea. One meager question remains: do you accept our sweet succor?"

The rogue's answer came in an instant. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Please spare me from this torment. Use me! Use my body however you want, just provide me with relief!" Having to beg in this manner wounded her pride, though it seems far more preferable than having them prolong her torture with inaction.

"You heard the woman, fill her with your love." The warrior firmly clasped his hands around Rhea's waist, adjusting himself to simplify his entry. Samara seemed content to watch, retreating back to the sweat-covered settee.

Without much more delay, Samson acquaints his member with the feline's needy sex---delving deep within. The sensations alone were enough to induce a myriad of gasping moans, she was grateful for every weighty thrust that stuffed her passage so efficiently. She found amazement in how quickly the spite and resentment were undone, regardless of how long they'd festered inside her. The negativity was replaced with outright joy, ushered in with his mighty strikes that thoroughly shook her core. Her first orgasm arrived, welcomed by those same powerful plunges.

The euphoria was absolute. Uncompromising. The pleasure reverberated throughout, escaping in the form of strangulated groans. He would not relent, however. His thrusts would increase in speed, threatening to break her with the uncontrollable tide of ecstasy. One after another, hammer striking the anvil.

Rhea's orgasms would come to a total of eight, thanks to his impassioned onslaught. Cessation was marked by a climax of his own, Samson gritting his teeth hard---every muscle tensing as he ejaculates within. The flood of spunk couldn't be contained within her tired sex, oozing out onto the sullied floor.

He was proud of the accomplishment. Thanks to Samara's training, his endurance and longevity were increasing with every stalled release. Not only that, but his orgasms felt better as well. By now he knew very well that her sexual insight was to be respected.

The Serulan was indulging herself with self-pleasure as she observed the spectacle, similarly satisfied with Sam's performance. "Well done, my sweetling." She utters an ancient word of power, the vines finally releasing Rhea's aching flesh. Samson is quick to catch her, holding tightly. "My legs are stiff. She's in need of some rest as well, Mara." The druidess reluctantly walked over once more, abandoning her comfortable seat. She'd inspect the cat, whose burning lust was brought to a low smolder.

"I wonder what she'll provide next time, provided that her restraints don't happen to return. You're curious too, aren't you?" He'd nod in approval, offering a smile as well. "Of course, Mara. Perhaps I'll even let you have some fun~"

She laughs at the statement, beginning her journey to the bedroom. "Come on, then. You know I can't rest peacefully without your presence. And it seems I can't let you stay down here basking in triumph, it'll feed your ego."

He happily tags along, heading toward the opposite hallway that led to their destination. In her last fleeting moments of consciousness, Rhea gently purred. She found contentment within Samson's thick arms. Though it hadn't transpired on her own terms, that unforgiving desire was vanquished. She was saved.