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Strawberry Orange Banana Lime Leaf Slate Sky Blueberry Grape Watermelon Chocolate Marble


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About Nox

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    Mistress of Bitchcraft

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    Cage Cashier at a local casino

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  1. Death Valley

    Shinguri reclined in the Master's embrace, fingertips idly ghosting over the stubble that graced his well moisturized cheeks as she squirmed, cooed and sighed with his every attention. Tri-pointed ears in a relaxed, laid back position as she languidly listened to the sounds of his voice, his words of advice thoughtful and wise. On many occasions Paris had taken the little naiad to task for some unknowing transgression. His tone when giving such instruction was always matter of fact, even kind. She'd come to learn that a second instruction on the same subject was often much more physical in nature, particularly if it was more than just the need to expound on a previously discussed subject. Such "lessons" were often brutally painful and for her part, always remembered. The prime example being earlier that very day when she'd been confined to Paris's diabolically clever flask. What means then, would he use to discipline the lovely feline? To her shock and slight horror, The Prince plopped the problem of the Kitten's instruction squarely in her little blue skinned lap. His rich voice rippled over her skin,sinking through muscle and bone and settled with a deep pulse at the apex of her thick little thighs. Unable to prevent herself, she squirmed in his embrace, a small whimpering sigh belying her shock at the meaning of the words thus spoken After the initial shocked blanch of thick lashed lids, Shinguri turned her head and gazed up at him, peridot eyes wide as she nodded acquiescence, knowing full well it would be she to whom punishment would fall should Helaine fail to learn quickly. "Yes, Master." She reiterated verbally, stroking his cheek once more with soft fingertips. Upon emerging from the last stretch of dense forest, snapping pinions brought her gaze around to the fore. The gold lion crest of the Lorean family shimmering in the faded light. Teasing banter between Lord Student and subordinate instructor brought a small smile to the little Nymph's purple tinted lips. It had taken quite some time for her to even partially understand the relationship shared by Ser Solomon and his Prince. It went far beyond monarch and bodyguard. After being privy to hundreds of interactions between the two she began to see that their gruff comradely masked a deep friendship and an abiding respect on both sides. The approaching retinue was of little concern to Shinguri, having been in their company with her Lord on many occasions. She simply sighed, her gaze wandered to the suffering Heliane. The ride would be over soon, but for the unsuspecting Kitten, the adventure was only just beginning.
  2. Prey for Predators

    Nimble fingers, gloved and bloody, worked quickly to re-close the stitches that he'd torn in his show of bravado. The macho male protector who was going to save the day. Truth was, he already had. It had been his insistence upon doing more, that he could do more after they'd reached the relative safety of his quarters... and she'd so patiently patched up flesh that had been sliced and diced. Taken in haste though they were, she'd been careful and made even, sure stitches, but there had been places where tattered skin, torn in battle rather than sliced that was far harder to stitch. And so here she was touching up those stitches. His convincing assurances of healthful vigor had almost been his undoing. If she was going to be honest with herself, it was kind of a turn on. Jhulae had always had a thing for men who were full of themselves in one way or another. Be it over confidence in their own abilities or a just a massive superiority complex, that kind of sublime tenacity seemed to hold her attention. Not to mention the fact that even gravely wounded and pale, Aquill was exceedingly pretty for a man of his size. The job was made harder by Quill's wandering hands and his refusal to lay back and relax. Previously, he'd been unconscious. Moving him about had not been easy for one of her diminutive stature, by any means. But stitching an unconscious man had proven much easier than stitching an semi alert one. He insisted upon sitting up this time, his eyes taking in her every action as she worked, right down to her smallest, most insignificant gesture. Calloused digits, traced electric thrills lightly over any bit of exposed skin, making her body buck and writhe ever so slightly. Every time she had glanced at his face to check for change in pallor, sheen and expression, he'd been looking her over, much like a thick cut of meat on a starving man's table. She found it most unsettling. Did he not understand how much danger they both were in still? Was his mind wandering with blood loss, she wondered? It stood to reason though. Given the aggressively feral finesse of his fighting style, it was not hard to see that the man was a being of primal desires and drives. Likely there was little time between thought and action. Jhulae herself had a tendency take the job first and ask questions later. And her excessive curiosity often led her into tight, even dangerous situations as it had that very evening. Almost finished, she'd begun to breath a little easier until his huge paw curled itself along the lower curve of her back, his touch warm and electric and firm. Blue eyes blinked owlishly, glazed and unfocused for a moment as he looked at her. His voice surprisingly strong as he tried to reassure her as to his “inevitable” recovery. “You said that before... And here we are again.” She laughed, purplish lips curling into a soft smile, his assurances continuing over her admonition. “And you are welcome. You saved my life earlier.... It's the very least I could do.” With one small hand, she patted the cushion beside his thigh, her hand then moving in a wave motion to indicate he recline. “Now... I suggest you lay back and get some rest.” She'd been about to stand, fingers still gloved and stained red with his blood when he grabbed her. It was not a rough grip but it was insistent. Before she knew it, he'd lifted her tiny frame onto lap, then up a little further, both huge hands gripping her at the waist, to pressing her tight against his broad, uninjured chest as their lips met in a firm lock. First reaction had been to stiffen in preparation to kick off and roll away but, in this situation, she had to reign in instinct. She dared not struggle for fear of reopening his wounds. Instead Bloody hands curled inward and turned away from his body so as not to stain neither her clothes nor his beyond what they already were. There was no turning away, he was too fast... “Mmmph!” Full, cupi-bow lips were glued to his, the slightest tingle of electric current dancing between them. The rise and fall of her chest was rapidly increased, her breath quivering with both alarm and excitement. Making out, even with one so man pretty as the preternatural Archer in such a situation struck her as highly inappropriate. And yet she did nothing to stop him, made no move to pull away from his rapidly trembling physique. The skin of her face flushed, electric, almost wanton attraction dancing in her brain like a lover. For a moment, she could not help but fall into it, to melt against his chest. He was so pretty, and virile, and highly skilled... Powerful... An unseen blush covering ebony cheeks, the excitement of being manhandled thus by such a being making the skin of her chest tightened inexplicably. Fluttering eyes caught site of her bloody hand, wrist against his shoulder to hold sanguine digits aloft brought her out of an electrified fog. Firmly she pulled away, purposefully taking slow deep breaths to try and calm her surprisingly elevated reparation rate. "None of that... For now." She smiled reassuringly and slowly extricated herself from his strong grip, careful not let his strain. Pulling off her bloody gloves, she tossed them into the garbage before pushing lightly against his shoulder. “Rest... I've got first watch.” And with that, she slipped from his grasp and easily moved through the darkened room to an advantageous spot spot between the window and the door.
  3. I'm old. Like REALLY old.

    I wouldn't worry about the age tip much, doll. There are a few of us... Seasoned role players here on Val. I started with table top back in the dark ages then made the jump to literary about 12 years ago. Welcome to Val, G!
  4. talk 2 carlos 2.0

    Discord is the Val equivalent is Vegas. So always remember: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas... Until it winds up on YouTube. Yes...Talk 2 Carlos 2.0 the Val equivalent of YouTube.
  5. Well as long as it's not just the chad the nox.
  6. O.o General Chatter?! WTF?! Why, Supes?! Why do you always mess with my stuff?! Mindless Chatter was a perfect title for what goes on here most of the time! Do you plague others as you do me with your edits and author changes?! Or is it just me?
  7. Just gonna share this fella with you.


    1. Show previous comments  9 more
    2. Nox


      Nox's return to Val.


      Short lived reunion.




    3. Alexei


      When she says mister j I think of harley quinn. XD

    4. Nox


      XD  Yes, I know.  Everyone does.   That was the intention.  I happen to like Harley Quinn.

  8. Death Valley

    Having learned some few slang words in the common humanoid languages, Shinguri had originally misunderstood the Fem Feline's final statement. It wasn't until she became aware of the chorus of howls rising around the small party that the water spirit realized that the kitten spoke not of pleasurable release, but approaching hunters of the night. Relaxed in the Master's embrace, soft ear spines caught between his lips, Shinguri felt no alarm at the wolf song that suddenly surrounded them. Many were the creatures that had come to drink from the cool waters of her spring fed pond over the centuries before her capture; Wolves among them. She'd not felt any fear of them then, and having had nothing even resembling a hostile encounter with the large canid's she felt none now. Perhaps it was because she did not even remotely understand the kind of damage that such predators could do to soft humanoid tissue. It was also quite likely that because Paris felt no fear, that primal sense had not communicated itself to the little Naiad. With dreamy eyes she watched the lovely little kitty writhe helplessly in the Master's saddle though this was slightly less pronounced when the feline assumed her watchful pose. Poor thing. The feline's release would be harder fought and not nearly as fulfilling as her own had been. Howling communication turned to ominous growls, lazily drawing her gaze to the imposing figure of Solomon and his viciously curved Lochaber, the long blade shifting casually from one shoulder to the other as he stared unflinching back at the red eyes of night. The mountainous man waited for the pack to approach with a calm demeanor that would have chilled even a Balrog's fiery blood. The cool breeze on the tips of her ear and the smooth, low rumble of the Master's voice called her attention back to him. Shifting her shoulders, peridot eyes focused on his handsome face as he spoke. He had expounded on some of the differences between predator and prey on more than one occasion, making a new point each time. As usual, the Nymph listened attentively, drowsily following his line of site. Red eyes, glittering in the deepening dusk vanished, first one, then a few more until finally the only reminder of their brief standoff was a lone call, drifting back to them on the evening breeze. Shinguri waved a small goodbye to their unexpected nocturnal visitors made a wary retreat. Finally she smiled and nodded her head, reaching up to stroke Paris' prickly cheek, a soft “No fear.” murmuring from her lips in acknowledgment of his point being well made.
  9. Even though she is a water nymph, I am calling her a googirl.

    1. Show previous comments  4 more
    2. Nox



    3. Alexei


      Its fun to read and lets me pass the time while I wait.

    4. Nox


      As long as you are enjoying it, it's all good.  I owe a post for Death Valley...  I'd best work on that tonight.

  10. Death Valley

    Even half lidded and writhing in response to her master's fiendish fondling, Shinguri was aware of her inclusion in the fem-feline's emotional state and intense arousal. She was also aware in a vague sort of way that the kitten was feeling the Nymph's emotional state and high level of arousal as well. To this she gave no care, letting the exchange flow freely. Helaine's delightful frustration with Paris' diabolical saddle matched almost perfectly the rising swell of desire between her own trembling stems. The feline's hot breath on Singuri's cool fingers and the delicate webbing between them tickled making the little Naiad giggle between squirming sighs. So too did the light dragging of the other's tongue across her smooth, poreless skin. Feathery tingles radiated up her hand even as the trail of saliva began to slowly absorb, eventually leaving pale blue digits and webbing as they had been. Yet their hands remained clasped, one in tune with the other. The Master's hand saw to it that the link between them was one of euphoric lust. Hips rocked with the rolling gate of Solomon's horse, pressing and shifting firmly against Paris' desire. Clever digits worked the petite spirit into an absolute frenzy, moaning sighs rising to almost musical, pleading whimpers. Shinguri clung to arm that held her, dancing to her Prince's tune with wild abandon. Being in tune with the writhing kitten only heightened the intensity of the pulsating pressure beyond the brink of explosion. The hand extended to their feline companion clenched into a tiny fist, then flared out, webbing stretched tight between splayed fingers. Satisfaction showered the masters hand and made an absolute ruin of Solomon's saddle, the slick, bluish liquid seeping onto tooled leather as fast as into the naiad's legs. Spent, the Naiad slumped against Paris' body, her trembling form shifted to the other arm so that the former could offer a refreshing drink to the yowling feline. Smiling a dreamy smile, she nestled in the comfort and security of the Masters embrace and wondered what it would be like with such a lovely kitten to play with in the palace.
  11. Death Valley

    Half lidded and head tilted to one side, Shinguri road at the crest of Solomon's saddle, reclined against Paris, his nibbling affection and proprietary caress titillating the water spirit. Unmindful of the eyes of others, she writhed against his lap in a languid fashion, hips curling against prodding fingers. The swell of her buttocks pressed back into his pelvis and down along his lust lined thigh in an attempt to alleviate the slowly building pressure between her own. One web fingered hand lifting to caress the stubble that prickled forth from his chiseled jaw cheek while a soft purr of a moan vibrated in her slender throat. A small shift in the position of her head nudged the pinions of her ear more fully against the lips that suckled there, blunted chin hairs prickling against the soft membranes folded between them. Meanwhile, her gaze remained focused on the silky fur along the curve of Helaine's squirming spine and tail. As curious as the fem-feline was about Shinguri, so too was the little Nymph intrigued about the lovely Wildcat. She did not seem to have skin as humans did, but rather she had fur that fluffed and fluttered in the evening breeze. How soft were the wispy strands, she wondered? Were they as luxurious as the thick fur rug that sat before the fireplace in Paris' bedchamber? Softer perhaps? The hand that had been idly fondling her perpetually wet sex suddenly slid the short distance up her torso, the heel of his hand pressing against her rib cage while long fingers cruelly tweaked one tiny blue bud betwixt their tips, his selfish growl that rumbled in her ear. Shinguri yelped then whimpered softly before quickly stifling any further audible protest with clenched jaw and gritting teeth. Unlike the stretching the Prince had given her arm earlier, compression of any kind was especially painful to the little water Nymph. If it was Paris' want that she suffer his wrath, such was her lot. She'd accepted this to be the central fact of her current life. Her eyes, however, filled with heated water as she did her best not to flinch away from the twisting pinch of pain that shot through her chest. As sudden as it began the prince left off his savage twisting of her nipple leaving the tiny bud red and somewhat swollen. Soft warm lips found her cheek, begging forgiveness with a warm, comforting gesture. As always she accepted his silent apologies, nuzzling her cheek against his lips. Shinguri blinked as Paris suggested that Helaine touch the Nymph's arm, even going so far as to hold her arm out for the feline to touch. If that was what the Master wanted, she thought with a mental shrug, not bothering herself with his contradictory nature. Instead, she smiled an invitation to the lovely feline, accepting the opportunity to satiate her own curiosity. “Not wet.” Shinguri reiterated Paris' reassurance, reaching toward Helaine palm up and webbed fingers splayed to show that she held nothing therein.