content warning // dubious consent, blood, and death.

  It starts with rhythmic tapping, a single strum of the lute, and an "Ahhhhhhhhhh." The crowd watches, waits, anticipates. Enraptured by the bard's dispy. They're the main event of the feast, its headline, the one and only Iris.

  It's clear, even from what little performance has so far been put on dispy, why the people of Carthana find them so enchanting. Their voice is angelic; well-trained, well-preserved. As if they had dedicated countless years to perfecting it. Their lute pying is, quite honestly, serviceable. It was clearly a craft they had learned, but never truly had the heart to master. It complements the rest of their performance, but little else.

  But oh, the rest of their performance. Their dance was always new, always different, always unlike the other bards of the time. Their exceptionally pale white skin glowed under the torch light, each intonation shifting the lighting, making them appear so different, painting upon them like a canvas. They had a way of simultaneously evoking a towering presence, someone who weaved tunes beyond the mortal range, and yet, also retable, also known. Untouchable, yes, but lyrically, they seem to be the same as anyone else.

  They sang:

  ?? Before Sos the pins were barrenThe sun knights came and conquered without warning

  They changed the flowers into coalThey brought us closer to Rika's goal

  But their roots remainFor them, Sos is a symbol of pain

  So go on, sun knights, finish your task.Burn them down to their roots. ??

  I always adored how they spread Rika's word. There were yers to it, really. Masterful.

  This is perhaps the fifth event of theirs I've attended. I make it a point to see as many of their performances as I can. It's only right that I do, right that I get what I want, too, as my noble lineage on its own pces me above all of the usual insects who visit. Aside from the performance being delightful, I must admit that I rather favor Iris themself. I admire their cherubic innocence, their lyrics which speak of a life which has never once felt suffering, never once been pained. It's hard not to wonder what they'd be like, panting under me, being defiled by me. I know that under that innocence is a harlot waiting to reveal themself to me, that my touch could easily bring it out.

  So, yes, I do have ulterior motives for this concert. Since I've heard that, on occasion, some very lucky people get a chance to get with them. To feel them. No one ever returns the same. I just know I'll be a different man, they a different person, once I get through using them.

  Perhaps today will be my lucky day. They've made eye contact, a couple times, during their performance. Little gnces into the crowd. I know they're looking at me, checking me out. I can just tell. When this performance comes to a close, perhaps, I will have them all to myself.

  The time passes all too quickly. I'm engrossed in their art. The way they pluck the string, the way their throat moves. The lyrics stop having meaning to me on an intellectual level; they penetrate past my brain, into my heart. Soon the crowd's cheering for an encore, and Iris, of course, obliges.

  And then it's over. And all it takes is for them to step out the back door, gnce back towards me, and give me a little wink, and I'm enchanted. It's obvious, clear as the sky tonight, what they want. So I follow them out. A woman next to me stands, too, comes as well. A noble, I believe, though likely a minor one, as I can't seem to remember her name. She's cute, close to my type, though incomparable to Iris, so I don't mind if she joins. The more the merrier, anyway.

  They look back again, that divine grin of theirs covering their face. They really have a way of driving a man wild. Then, they turn down the nearby alley, and I follow, the footsteps of the woman close behind.

  There's a door, here, that they slyly open, sink back into, leave ajar. I feel my steps hurrying, blood already flowing to my loins, excitement, among other things, growing. It isn't long before I'm inside, following them into the next room, where they're waiting, stretching their body taut, their eyes focused on me, looking me up and down, as if to say, "You'll do."

  They pat the bed next to them--there's a bed next to them?--Its sheets are a bright crimson, the pillows a dark bck, and I sit. They don't indicate it, they don't tell me in any way, but I know that they want me to undress, and my shirt is off before I know it, my legs spread. I'm hard, so hard, and I feel the bed shift, the weight of another person. I know it's the woman, but I'm not interested in her at all, and she doesn't even spare a gnce at me. Iris, though, their attention is all on me. They're in front of me, now, running their hands across my chest, giving my neck little sucks. Then they're straddling me, kissing me hungrily, their tongue deep in my mouth. My tongue enters theirs in turn, licking across their teeth, their fangs, their mouth, tasting them, they taste so good. My cock's about to burst through my trousers. It wants to be inside them, already. Wants it so bad. I want it so bad. To feel them clenching down around me, moaning against me.

  But we both want to savor the moment, want this to be as good as possible. So I wait while they pepper little kisses across me, while they grind against my shaft. I can feel pre-cum leaking out of me, covering my underwear, making such a mess of me.

  Then they pull back, a little, they get their hips off of me, and take my pants all the way off. My cock springs out, rock hard, ready. But it's not their genitals which envelop me, not the warmth that I so desperately crave. It's their hand. Their hand which is slowly stroking me, up and down, while they cover my neck with more kisses. They glint their tongue, their teeth, across it, and I'm so close, so close already. I need the release so bad, need to cum, so bad. They move their hands across my tip, slowing their stroking down just a little, teasing me just below the head. Then they're stroking in earnest, pumping me hard and fast, and my vision's starting to go white. I can feel the electricity surge through my body as their teeth touch my neck, as their fangs pierce into me, and I cum. Cum so hard, covering my clothes in white as they suck all of the red blood out of my body, as they bite into my throat, eating my flesh. My vision, white, white and gone, gone.

  ___

  Iris's bed is nice, soft and warm. I'm lying here, my head buried in their pillow, waiting for them to finish up with the man they brought here. Hearing him gasp and moan, hearing them suck on his neck, feeling the bed shake. I know my turn will come after, but it's still hard to wait, just getting more wet, more excited, so turned on by the sounds of the two fucking. I'm running my hands across my body, feeling my breasts, while I listen to them, while I think about Iris, think about how good the performer will soon be making me feel. I want to taste them so bad. I've been a fan for so long, ever since the first day I saw them. It was a week or so after I had inherited my fortune. My mother's lesser merchantry, and, at the time, it was indeed a lesser one. Barely a few hundred gold to its name, by most estimates, anyway. I wasn't going to let it stay that way. It was easy, to fix, honestly, so easy that I don't really understand why my mom hadn't done it herself. All it took was the right bribe--I can hear his breath, harder now, hotter, along with their wet sucking sounds--the right bribe, a little gift here and there--he's panting, he must be getting close--a little sabotage, a little wage lowering, some policy changes, it really was quite simple. Now, look at me--Oh, he's close. I can hear their hand, stroking him, so rough and wet. Fuck. I'm wet, too. So wet, so ready for them to be inside me. So ready to taste them.

  I roll over, up, my eyes still closed, teasing myself some more. Running my fingers along my bia, spreading myself just a little bit, getting my fingers just a little wet. It feels good, pleasant, just a little nice. But it's not enough stimution. I want more, need more. But I can't bring myself to touch my clit, to put my fingers inside, to truly fuck myself. Not with Iris right next to me, ready to use me instead. So I tease, trace the outside of my vulva. Listen to the sounds they make. Get more and more turned on. Rub my finger between my lips, as they bite into his neck. He moans, I think he's cumming, he must feel so good. And then, he stops making any sounds, he goes silent. I can feel his body slump down, lie against the bed. And I know, now, that it's my turn, too. My turn to feel good.

  I can feel the bed shift as they crawl over to me, every movement. Neither they nor the bed make a sound. Soon, they're upon me, their hand wraps around my wrist, pulls my arm up, away from my vulva. Up, up, towards my mouth. And they push my fingers in, make me taste it, taste myself. I like how I taste, I think. It's pleasant. I suck on my fingers until they're entirely clean, spotless.

  Iris looks at me, looks me up and down, like they're assessing my worth. They don't say a word, but I know what they want, so I take my clothes off. My red dress--is it red? Is that what I put on?--comes off first, revealing my undergarments, simple white things. My panties are entirely soaked through, nearly transparent. But I don't start with them (I just got that hand clean), so I take off my bra first, let my breasts free to breathe, feel the cool air on them. It's a little sudden, but, it's pleasant. Finally, I pull my panties down, move them off of my legs, one at a time, my body now entirely nude, exposed before them.

  But they don't touch me. They don't give me the release I'm looking for, not a hint of it. Instead, they shift their robes aside, pull their underwear down. I get a moment, just one precious moment, to gnce at their sex, see it in all it's glory, before my mouth is pressed up against it. I lick the outside, tentatively, but they demand more, pressing up against my face, pushing their cunt down against my mouth. So I push my tongue in, spreading them out properly. I go deep as I can, licking, curling, just doing everything I can to make them feel good.

  They taste divine. Better than myself, definitely. Sour, with just a hint of sweetness. They let out a moan, and I think I even hear them call me a good girl, sending a jolt of pleasure down my body, down to my core. It's hard to focus on anything but the task at hand; Eating them. Pleasing them. I know they need more stimution, need it so bad, their breathing deepening. I bump my nose up against their clit, and they let out a gasp, a "Yes, fuck, more."

  And then my tongue's out of them, my mouth's on their clit. I'm sucking on it, sucking them, licking them up and down. I eat them with the hunger I've never felt, letting my body go, leaving all of myself to their pleasure. I've lost all of the control I ever pretended to have. They're the only thing that matters now.

  I can feel it building up in their body, their muscles tensing as they get closer, so much closer. Butterflies flit through my body, I must be doing such a good job. It takes one more lick for them to finally climax, and they push down, hard, against my face, push me down into the mattress. I can't breathe, but it doesn't matter, all I have to do is be good and suck on their clit. Ride their orgasm out, make sure it's as good as it can be. And I know it's good, with how hard they're clenching down, how they're moaning, it's melodic. I could do this for the rest of my life.

  With a gasp, they pull off, letting me taste air again. My lungs find it delicious, I gasp for it, but I can't help but feel a little disappointed. I just want one more taste, just a little more. I even gasp that much out, but they don't seem to care. Instead, they get up, move over, until they're pinning my legs down between theirs. They kiss me, deeply, tasting themself on my mouth. It's rough and hard, as they bite into my lip, suck some of my blood. Just a taste. And then their finger is rubbing my clit. The middle, at first, and then their index shortly after. It happens all so fast, feels so good.

  They pull off my clit, tease around my lips, a little, and then push their fingers all the way in. They curve their fingers, a little, and spread me out. Then they're fucking me hard, fast and hard, and I cum. But they don't stop, don't stop fingering me so good, giving me all the attention I need, rubbing my clit while they're fucking me. And I cum again. And again. And again. I'm a whimpering muttering mess, trying to form words but just making sounds, so pathetic under their touch. Another orgasm. I feel pleasure seep through my body, my nervous system lighting up, jolts of electricity running through me. I feel so good. And then I stop feeling, because I am no longer myself.