The Conquerors bloodline

Silently, his hands tickled lines down Glynda's sides. The hand that had grasped her throat and forced back her head halted and snaked from her side to her chest, crossing over the barrier of fabric before halting at her sternum between her breasts. His touch, his finger warm compared to the chilly zephyr wafting through the alley way.

His other hand trailed down further, landing on her hip to tug her closer to his body letting her feel the full size of his tented lower half against her rump.

"A show? You're insane," part of her face may have been hidden behind a mask but that still had yet to alleviate the skittish awareness congesting her rationality. Trembling a gulp, she shot a look to the alley entrance and even though no one had passed by the last minute she was still not entirely comfortable with this situation.

Parc quite honestly was testing her more so than pleasuring himself. Glynda was a tough wall to break down, she had reinforcement below the surface, a mind that would resist even the harshest batterings of rams. He'd gotten through a few layer, pierced halfway by his estimate but by then the stone building her had thickened and become more dense. Were he to liken it to anything, it was like a castles walls. Getting through it would claim Glynda's body, but taking the castle that was her mind, that would take a lot longer.

"I've been insane for a long time Glynda." He whispered.

The hand covering her right hip dug beneath her dress, the other slid the strap of her dress off her breast and freed it. Gazing over her shoulder, Parc smirked when he saw the blending pastie covering her erected nipple. Her arousal seemingly having overcome the very reason for the pasties existence to stop the erotic revelation of her breasts.

He latched on, gripping her breast but leaving the pastie and her nipple pierce between his fingers. Her flesh squished warmly, melting from his hand from their beautiful plumpness. Glynda bucked slightly, her butt grinding as she bit down a pleasured whine.

When his digging hand pressed betwixt her slight opened thighs and plunged into her panties to hook and burrow into the slick slit, Glynda couldn't hold back the moan any more and let it forth in a sweet, womanly cry.

The criminal finger halted not, joining the other's of its brethren appendage in playing with their respective parts of Glynda's body. Gripping and rolling her breast, scratching, and rolling within her pussy.

She didn't need to make noise for Parc to know she was enjoying every moment of his touch. The way she grinded and shivered, the slight gasping, and the way her head hung with her fingers curling in against the wall she was pressing them against.

Parc's tongue snaked out and trailed a thin glistening line across her nape, the feeling for her hidden behind the more oppressive vaginal sensations.

Wet noises joined with Glynda's low whines, her juices forming a vacuum that would break every time Parc's finger would press in and out, often knocking slightly against the heated plastic of the vibrator still inside her.

Prying his hand free from her crotch he pulled her off the wall and lifted the wetted finger up to her face. Through the hazy mist she saw it stringy with her desire. It shrunk closer stinking of her musky allurement.

"Feels like you're enjoying this. Aren't you?"

She ground her lips just barely feeling a moist touch as his finger lingered just beneath her nose as if to taunt her into opening her mouth and letting it in. As that thought came, swiftly Parc's hand lowered to her hip and stroked in licentious circles beneath her dress.

Though it may not have been touching anything sensitive she still felt twangs of shuddering pleasure from the gentle touch.

It was obviously a ploy, a trick to make her think that he wasn't only thinking about just sticking it in and letting that be that. Which was wrong, that much she knew. Parc's only point to this whole escapade was getting into her metaphorical pants.

He was succeeding as the slight push of her hips backwards into his own portrayed. Though she wouldn't accept it with a smile on her face. She wasn't so easily moved by playboys.

Seething coldly in swift ponderance, Glynda grunted somewhere deep down. No matter how much she reasoned she'd already accepted this deplorable deal some part was still reluctant. It would have to shirk away, be forgotten with her morals and manners, temporary though it was.

"I don't have much choice in how much my body is enjoying this." Gulping, her breathing shivered, fingers curled and scratched the wall. Another final look to the alley wrecked her nerves as another person, a woman with tired eyes and a babies carriage hastily pushed past looking ready to collapse from exhaustion at any given moment.

Narrowing her eyes shut, Glynda loosened her fingers and let them lay flat against the icy wall. The longer she argued with herself, the longer this would take. It was sex, she may have been celibate for years past but she was far from a prude, nor was it her own fault for celibacy. There was too much going on in the world for her to even allow the idea of such animalistic urges to take priority over others.

And yet, here she was with a mans erection pressing against the crack of her ass pushing through her dress in the middle of the city, outside in an alley way in the middle of the night. A vibrator silent inside her and a breast bared for all to see. Mask or no mask, she undoubtably looked like some high end whore uncaring for her image should someone simply glance to the right when passing by.

A slight shaking of her head gave her a tinge of clarity that allowed her to feel the slow ruffling of her breast, shivering as Parc scratched the adhesive of the petal covering her nipple and began peeling it off. Without even looking down she could tell her nipple was engorged and blaring a furious cherry red. When a gust flew past, it would often stroke the delicate teat sending soft spikes of electricity. Nothing like when Parc's hand returned and began to slowly trail fingers over it.

More sallow breaths drew her mind away, focused on reasoning and to a degree, her wants.

Glynda shifted slightly, her ass ground an inch upwards while her shoulders dipped a few more, simultaneously pushing Parc a step or two backwards with her bottom's soft grinding. His smirk rose as she voiced.

"I want another question." Head swivelling metting cold greens to amused reds.

Parc released her breast, straightened his back and the brought his hands to either side of her plump bottom. Even without his assistance creasing the fabric, her dress would have already conformed to the delicate curvature of her rump. He licked his lips, drew both hands onto her flesh and gripped tightly, his fingers practically melting into the pillowy goodness.

"Ask away."

"How many are working with Salem." Her lips ground shut while her cheeks flared with heat. The pose she'd taken with her back at a seventy-degree angle, the accentuation of her posterior. She truly was becoming a whore, wasn't she?

Parc relented for a moment his undulations and began to roll Glynda's dress up. Each centimeter revealing more of her illustrious white legs. Bringing it up so far that her panties were soon revealed. Black lace. Far from the most erotic, but certainly no slouch. His warm touch pressed her bared skin blazed her hotter, "how many… about, I'd say…" he thought trailing off as he pressed his thumbs either side of her crotch and parted her labia. Moist pink flesh revealing on either side of the thinning strip of panties. "About nine at the moment. At least, from what I know, likely more given her reach."

His index hooked beneath Glynda's panties, stretch the fabric and slid down to the centre of her vagina before pulling to the side and releasing it between the cusp of puffy, lightly furred with gold labium and her thigh.

Glynda's pussy was slick with honey though it didn't quite trickle free. Her fur, light gold, was matted wetly and a point hung down, glistening even in the cold lighting of the alleyway. Glynda tensed, tempted to scratch the wall down but deadened her mind and forced it to focus on the revelation.

'Nine people.' It wasn't a lot, far from what Ozpin had at his fingers but small numbers could still destroy entire countries if used properly.

Her thoughts were suddenly shattered, her mind drawn to a blank as she felt Parc plunge two fingers into her slit. They twisted inside her, curling up to the knuckles as they knocked against and toyed with the pill. One finger hooked around it, dragged it closer to her opening and with the other Parc pinched and pulled it from her slit, trailing behind a hanging thread of vicous arousal.

A nervously relieved hiss escaped her, yet as she was becoming used to this evening, that relief was only hairs thin and easily ruined by the clear, sharp growl of his zipper opening followed by fabric ruffling and soon she felt it on the crease of her bottom, right against her skin. A tower warm and hard. It made no noise but to her it sent her heart screaming into a race track of noises.

Glancing over her shoulder she struggled to see it behind the bunched up dress fabric. She was certain though, that even as invisible as it currently was, she was going to regret signing this contract with the devil.