Menta sang a strange, gleeful song as the vines carried Yathi through the forest. Yathi moaned and wriggled, desperate to touch herself as the vines tormented her every sensitive area. Menta seemed to love this display, but Yathi couldn’t help it. She just needed to get off now. Everything else came second.

“Please!” she cried, heedless of Menta’s delighted giggling. “Please, just let me—fuck!” Her whole body rocked as one of the smooth vines slicked right over her cunt, slithering along it with agonizing sensation. It was almost painful.

It didn’t help that Menta was just a few meters away, gleefully using the same vines that carried her to pleasure herself. The catgirl’s eyes were half-lidded as she forced one thick vine in and out of her, but always she watched Yathi with the fascinated gaze of a predator.

She never spoke. She only laughed, and moaned, and let out satisfied sighs that were a bit too long when the vines took her to each orgasm. Every orgasm was pure, liquid torture to witness.

Not even the Thriae could be this cruel, Yathi thouht, unable to suppress some longing for the wasp girls’ pure, simple domination. Yes, they would mock her, and force her to submit, and degrade her until she was barely human. But they would make her come. They would make her come until she was a squealing honey sprite, then, if they ever did get bored of her, throw her to a honey pool, where her peers would make her come even more. Someone like her would be subject to endless humiliation, endless sensation.

But she would get off.

Yathi struggled to keep these thoughts back, but they were persistent. They lingered. And as the sounds of yet another woman achieving many healthy orgasms reached her ears, the thoughts gained traction.

For there, down below, next to the edge of an enormous pitcher plant the size of a small oak, were two Thriae. Yathi felt her pussy clench at the sight. Blonde hair, golden eyes, waspish figures. The Thriae were the epitome of beauty as far as Yathi was concerned. Yathi recognized one of them: Ditzy, airheaded Kifina, with breasts the size of melons and a brain the size of a honeybee. The other, a more petite woman—albeit still with the ridiculous figure—Yathi didn’t know by name. They sat on the leaf of another massive plant alongside a lone catgirl, giggling at the screaming plight of a young woman beside them.

The woman had bronze skin, copper red hair, and glimmering green eyes. Her lips were unusually lush, and as they got closer, Yathi noticed they had a curious sheen on them, like glittery gloss.

Pitcher dryad, she thought, gulping. While most fey that used chemicals just settled for putting the chemicals in the victim’s body, pitcher dryads were quite happy to let their victims go free once they’d had a kiss or two. One kiss was all it would take.

Of course, she was currently getting rammed in the cunt by a runerod the girth of a small constrictor snake.

The dryad screamed as another orgasm rushed through her, to the delighted cooings of her Thriae lovers. They and the catgirl looked up, excited, as Menta and Yathi descended.

The catgirl’s eyes widened.

“Oh, fuck,” whispered the catgirl, ears twitching, “is that her? Oh, fuck. Holy shit.”

“Mm-hm!” Kifina beamed. Eyes still locked on the helpless Yathi, she pulled the runerod out of the spasming dryad and started to move towards her own pussy. She licked her lips. “I forgot how hot she was. Can’t wait to... to...”

Before she could thrust inward, the other Thriae grabbed her hand. “Kifina, remember? The pitcher dryad’s juices...”

Kifina blinked. Her hand went still, the runerod mere millimeters from her oozing, honey-sticky cunt. “Ooh! Right! Heehee! I’m such a ditz.”

“Yes, Kifina,” said the other Thriae, biting her lip. Through the haze of need, Yathi was surprised to see her acting so deferential. Thriae society basically ran on who dominated who; surely someone as stupid as Kifina couldn’t dominate so much as a lust sprite.

“Don’t wanna get addicted,” sang Kifina. Her blond curls bounced as she turned to lock eyes with her companion. She held the runerod up to the other Thriae’s face. “But you?”

“Um.” The Thriae squirmed, clearly smelling the pitcher dryad’s famous aphrodisiac. Yathi did, too, as she watched this from above. “Shouldn’t.”

“Aw, Vissy,” Kifina cooed, moving the runerod closer to the Thriae’s quivering lips, “Just a taste. You know she tastes good.”

Vissy was leaning forward, and Yathi was sure she would have been witness to a very permanent kind of social domination had the catgirls not interfered.

“Now, now,” Menta said, giggling as she alighted on the leaf, “let’s not be silly dears, dears.”

“Menta!” the two Thriae squealed, leaping to their feet and grabbing the catgirl in twin loving embraces. Yathi watched enviously as they kissed all over the startled—but delighted—catgirl. She noticed Kifina’s runerod journeying towards Menta’s crotch—

Only to be grabbed by the other catgirl. Kifina noticed this and blushed, pulling away from Menta.

These alliances—and the friendships within Thriae ranks—really were fascinatingly complex and ever-shifting, Yathi reflected. Thriae were clearly constantly trying to one-up even their closest allies. But then again, their society was one wholly based on domination and also why weren’t they fucking her already?

“It’s been too long,” Menta gushed, kissing each cheek of the giggling Kifina. The kisses seemed to linger a bit longer than was strictly traditional, and the third-through-twelfth kisses, trailing down Kifina’s neck towards her breasts, definitely weren’t. Yathi was almost drooling with excitement. Soon those lips would be on her soft skin, and then...

But she wasn’t heading towards the leaf, she realized, as the vines took her straight past. And down.

“No!” she cried, trying to lunge for the lip of the pitcher. But she was bound too tightly. She slipped over the edge, helpless to arrest herself, and descended into the pink-and-green dimness of the great pitcher plant.

The smell that accosted her nose was sweet and sharp. She tried to hold her breath, but the vines made it hard. They squeezed her belly too tight to take in deep breaths.

“Heehee! She’s really set up well for us.” She looked up as she lowered into the plant. The two catgirls and two Thriae were watching her from above. Menta was the one who’d spoken. “I can’t wait to see how she handles this.”

“She’s been suuuch a good girl so far today,” breathed Kifina, glancing back at someone unseen. Yathi realized that they were referring to the dryad—which meant that she was the ‘this’. “You’re gonna be a good girl and make sure we have lotsa fun, right?”

Yathi heard a buzzing sound, followed by a wordless moan.

“It’s out of her hands,” Menta said slyly. “It’s all up to the nummy nutrients now. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?” The question was directed at Yathi.

Yathi remained determinedly silent. She refused to breathe in more of this stuff than she had to. If she could reach some edge of the plant, she could probably use her little razor to cut through the fiber. Pitcher plants weren’t that tough. But it didn’t matter how horny she was, she needed to keep her head, or she was—

“Bimbo,” sang Kifina from above, “be a good girl! Be polite to your hosts!”

“Yes, M—” Yathi cut the whispered reply off. She’d desperately tried to hold it in, but this was the Thriae. They owned her. Or almost did, anyways. And she just needed to cum. This set off a brand-new chorus of giggles up above, of course.

She was halfway down the massive chamber when Kifina called again, in syrupy tones, “Sugarslut?”

Without thinking, Yathi’s mouth opened. “Yes?”

She quickly closed her mouth again, but her lips had begun to tingle now. She’d forgotten the nickname they’d used for her when she’d been... under. Just hearing it made her pussy clench longingly.

Kifina smiled indulgently down at her. “You’re gonna take some nice, deep breaths, now,” she cooed.

Yathi resisted the urge. She breathed in, struggling against the compulsion to...

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

With just one full breath, Yathi’s world was plunged into ecstasy. She let out a gasping cry, shaking in her constraints. The sensations that tore through her were like a hurricane on reeds. She felt like she was flying. On a dildo the size of a horse. An actual horse.

Once she’d started breathing, it was impossible to stop. Of course she had to breathe in that sweetness again. What was the harm? She was already as good as broken anyways.

“N-no!” she cried, struggling to resist that despair. “I—I won’t—won’t give in—in—in—”

She let out a frustrated whine as the vines continued to tease around her pussy, never quite entering, never quite satisfying. She needed more! More of this taste, this scent, this—

Her big toe finally touched the cool, thick substance at the bottom of the pitcher plant.

Her brain went up in fireworks.

It wasn’t smooth and slick like honey. This substance was thick, and grainy, like sugar water. It sent thrills up her whole body just from this slight contact. She had to get out of here now. She didn’t want to think about what would—

The orgasm whirled through her, and Yathi screamed. She thrashed in her constraints. The sensation was like a million tongues and lips on her foot. It was like her foot was suddenly an erogenous zone. She could never fight this, she knew immediately. It wasn’t mind control. It wasn’t even mind-altering. She had simply never felt pleasure like this in her life.

And it had only touched her foot, in the most humiliating orgasm she’d ever experienced. She looked up, panting as the orgasm started to subside, though she was already building towards the next.

The Thriae and Catgirls watched eagerly, beaming at her. They looked oddly expectant. Like they were waiting for something else.

Then the vines fell away, and so did all semblance of Yathi’s world.

She plunged into the waters, and deep into heaven. The thick fluid ripped pleasure from her body like fruit from a vine, harsh, unforgiving, unending, perfect. It rushed into her cunt, over her breasts, into her mouth, between her asscheeks, caressing every surface like it was the most sensitive clitoris in the world.

The vines wrapped around her arms again and pulled her up as she choked and gasped. She rose up so her head and shoulders were above the surface. Her vision was blurred and misty. Her ears were waterlogged, but she could distantly hear cackling.

But none of it mattered before the pleasure. It was perfect. Exquisite. She knew then that she would never, ever willingly leave this place. She loved it. She loved the Thriae and catgirls for bringing her here. It felt too good. Too overwhelmingly good.

And then the vines plunged beneath the water and began to stroke her clit again, and as the fey above watched and masturbated gleefully, tears of joy coursed down Yathi’s dimpled cheeks.

* * *

Brist ran without strategy. He ran without thought. He ran without anything save pure instinct and adrenaline.

So it wasn’t really a surprise when they caught up with him.

At first, Brist thought he could avoid them. Even without his crystals, he thought he might be clever enough. They leaped from tree to tree, so he tried to run for clearings, but there were always brambles and vines in the way. He could hear their laughter echoing through the forest.

Then someone slammed into him from behind, and he hit the ground. The fall didn’t hurt—the grass was soft, and inviting, and everything felt warm and perfect and—

“No!” he cried, feeling the catgirl kissing the back of his neck even as she held him in place.

“Ooh, look at this!” the catgirl cooed, squeezing his ass. He struggled futilely.

“You got our toy!” squealed another catgirl, and he felt another pair of lips start to trail little tickling kisses down his arms. Strangely, wherever they kissed, he started to feel... relaxed. Like sweet little massages. He came to understand just how relaxed he was when the two catgirls rolled him onto his back and he couldn’t even struggle.

They beamed down at him. “Fun chase!” bubbled the redhead on the left. “But now it’s time to really play.”

“Um—” Brist swallowed, finding himself lost in her beautiful feline green eyes. “I... we didn’t chase much yet.”

This set off a torrent of giggles. The two catgirls looked quite youthful—they could be nineteen, if they’d been humans. The brunette leaned in. “The chase isn’t just running, toy,” she whispered. “We’ve been chasing you ever since you tried counting Mew’s freckles.”

“I...” Brist tried to will his arms to move, but they just didn’t seem to want to. Did he want to? Of course he did! Right?

“Hm.” The redhead looked around, pouting. “Mew’s running late.”

“I don’t wanna wait to have fun with him,” said the brunette, smirking down at him. Brist found himself smiling nervously back. Her breasts were particularly large.

“Me neither,” the redhead purred. She rested her chest against Brist’s, and he felt the purring reverberate through his whole body.

“Ooh! I know!” The brunette seemed to perk up a little. “Let’s play a game with the toy!”

“What game?” asked the redhead, yawning.

“Tickle-or-Treat!”

The redhead’s eyes lit up. Brist swallowed as her hands crawled to his erect member. “So big,” she cooed. “Can’t I give him a treat either way?”

“Don’t be a bimbo.”

“You’re the bimbo!”

“Said the pot to the... uh, pot.”

They both tittered, then turned back to Brist. He didn’t much like the way they were looking at him. it reminded him of the way his cat back home watched birds out the window.

“The rules are simple, toy!” the brunette sang. “We’re gonna tickle you for, uh, ten seconds. If you can keep from cumming by then, we’ll let you go!”

“Or give you a nice little treat. Your choice.” The redhead smacked her lips suggestively.

“Mm, yes. But.” The brunette held up a hand, her ears flattening threateningly. “If you cum before time’s up... we’re gonna tickle you more.“

“Extra,” the redhead confirmed.

“Lots!”

Brist looked between them. They were speaking too fast to really keep up with, but he thought he understood the gist. “Okay,” he said, swallowing. “So... where will you tickle me? Not my penis! That’s cheating.”

They exchanged looks and beamed down at him. “Don’t worry about that, toy! We always play fair.” As if to emphasize, the redhead stroked his cock a few times, as one might stroke a favored pet.

“And... and what if I say no?”

They both scowled.

“Then,” the redhead said with a pout, “we just wait here. No playing! We wait for Mew to get here. And then she brainwashes you.”

“Bo-ring!”

“Our way is way more fun,” they said in unison, grinning ear-to-ear.

Brist gulped. “... okay. Deal.”

They looked positively ecstatic, and let him know how grateful they were by showering him in kisses for a full half- minute. Then they pulled back. Redhead drew back to straddle his knees, while brunette whipped out a long feather and grinned at him. “I should warn ya,” she cooed, “I’m the kinky one.”

“Okay,” he whispered. This couldn’t be too hard. He wasn’t remotely ticklish, and besides, tickling wasn’t exactly a fetish for him. He could do this.

The brunette brought the feather down and started to tickle his chin. “One,” she said sweetly.

Brist blinked. Was this all? Just one feather? “What’s she here for?” he said, looking at the redhead. The redhead smirked.

“Two,” continued the brunette, ignoring the question. Her feather gracefully flitted from his chin to his face, tickling both his cheeks.

The redhead dropped to her hands and knees atop him, opened her mouth, and took his cock between her plus, red lips.

Brist’s eyes widened.

“Three!” the catgirl exclaimed. The feather tickled over his lips, and she grinned broadly at him.

Then the redheaded catgirl’s head started to bob in his lap.

Her technique was incredible. Brist began to shake immediately as she alternated between sucking, licking, and reverently kissing. He had to hold it in!

“Four!” said the brunette, winking at him. As the feather moved to tickle his neck, she leaned close and started to kiss him as well. Already gasping for breath, Brist was in no shape to even think about how unfair this was. “Mm—five!”

The catgirl’s mouth was exquisite, a warm, wet cave that worked his member masterfully. It didn’t matter that Brist had just come minutes ago. He needed this. He needed more. He needed to come.

“Seven!” the brunette sang. Brist blinked, trying to make sense of oh fuck that rough tongue gently licking his glans was heavenly. “Eight!”

She broke away from the kiss and grinned triumphantly at him.

“Please!” he cried. “It’s—not—faaaaaaugh!“

With one last little lick, he came. The pleasure and despair surged through him as one as he realized he’d failed by two seconds. He heard the redhead make ‘mm’ sounds, and felt her rapidly guzzling his load down like it was nothing. His cock throbbed, eager to discharge its payload into its soft, wet sheathe.

“Good boy!” the brunette cooed. This condescending praise only made his orgasm intensify. “Good boy! Good boy for a good toy!”

As his orgasm subsided, the catgirls exchanged gleeful looks. The redhead pulled off of his cock with an audible popping sound, licking her lips and looking quite satisfied.

“Silly toy,” the brunette hissed, giving his cock a little stroke. To his alarm, it was already hardening again. “Couldn’t even hold it in for ten seconds!”

“So horny!” the redhead cackled. “Y’know, I think he wanted to give in. He wants us to tickle him!”

“Well...” the brunette purred, “if he insists.”

She raised her feather. The brunette drew out another.

Brist swallowed.

Well, at least they had no way of making him ticklish.

Right?

* * *

Ia shook and giggled like mad, thrashing in her constraints as the fairies tickled all over her needy, sensitive body. “Aah! No! Heehee! St—stop!”

But they didn’t stop. Nor did Elly stop tickling the soles of her feet, though now she was using a paintbrush instead of her fingers. It was exquisite. It was torture.

“Good girls get to cum,” purred a vibrant voice in her left ear. It was the third moth fairy. She had been maintaining a constant hypnotic mantra throughout all of this. “Good girls are obedient. Good girls are pliant.”

“N-nooo! Eeheehee!” Tears were coursing down Ia’s face as the other two fairies licked her breasts. She had never before been ticklish, but this magic had her acting like... like she was still a kid. Her whole body ached to be touched. Her whole body begged for mercy. And still the fairies worked their wickedness on her.

“Just listen to her,” Elly cooed. “She’s so happy. So pliant. She knows that it’s good to be obedient, slut.”

“Y-yeahhaha, ’cause y-you mind controlled her! Eeheehee! But I can’t be—” Ia seized up as another false orgasm left her body. She wasn’t sure what was worse: the tickling, or the denial.

No, definitely the denial. She whimpered, longing for just one true climax. Even just the slightest release. But she knew none would come. Not until she was... a ‘good girl’.

“But you wanna be just like her,” Elly said, smirking at her. Her paintbrush flicked along Ia’s toes, causing Ia to jerk and twitch away in a vain attempt to escape. “Because obedience means pleasure.”

“Obedience means pleasure,” the fairy echoed.

“N-never!” Ia cried. She couldn’t even think of subterfuge anymore. She was too horny. Too distracted. And a part of her was getting so aroused, so eager to be pleased, so eager to please... that she was getting worried that if she started faking the part of a submissive slut, she might never be able to stop.

“I-I’m actually a dom,” she whimpered desperately.

Elly just beamed at her. “Not anymore,” the catgirl chirped. She appeared to think a moment. “But maybe... you need more positive reinforcement?”

“Wh—ahaha—what?”

The tickling on Ia’s soles stopped. Ia felt a moment of intense relief.

Then she realized where the paintbrush was heading, and she felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

“If you submit,” Elly purred, “it’ll be constant pleasure. Cumming without end. My sweet slave slut. I will never leave you wanting.”

And the worst part was, Ia believed her.

She watched the paintbrush slowly circle toward her clit, and gulped.

* * *

Trys lay there in the darkness, her heart pounding. She was pinned to the ground by two nubile catgirls. She couldn’t see them, but she could feel their bodies, every soft, smooth curve, pressed against her on each side.

Trys had been through a lot today. She’d been hypnotized—a major turn-on for her, as it was for anyone who’d dealt much with the Thriae—forced to edge herself for at least an hour, grabbed by vines, forced to watch Yathi...

... well. Not ‘forced’, exactly.

Now the recovering mead addict was jammed between two hot bodies. She still hadn’t gotten to come.

And the strangest thing was, she thought, these catgirls smelled like honey.

It was driving her crazy.

The catgirls had been surprisingly quiet since pinning her. The only sounds were the dryad in the background crying out. The runerod had been left inside her, apparently, and she was eagerly bringing herself to orgasm after orgasm. The sound, too, distracted Trys.

She longed to just abandon it all. To give in, to kiss the catgirls, to let them take her. They’d lick her, and she’d moan and whine and beg to submit. She would lick out the redhead, or maybe the brunette, and they would pet her head and call her a good girl. Such a good girl. She’d be their good girl. She could even pretend they were Thriae, the gorgeous honey-dripping mistresses she so longed to return to.

It sounded so nice. So perfect. So warm.

But she could not let it happen to her.

A light flickered into view, just out of the corner of her eye. With it came the smell of beeswax, and a burning incense wick. It was a little candle.

“It’s so dark down here,” whispered one catgirl in her ear.

“Why not a little light?’ whispered the other catgirl in her other ear. She tenderly nibbled Trys’s earlobe. “Goddesses, you’re sexy. Almost like one of the honeys!”

Trys swallowed. “Get off of me,” she managed.

There was a silence.

“Minty,” said the first catgirl. “Get her off on you.”

“Ooh, yes!” sighed the brunette happily. Trys felt the weight on her left arm vanished, replaced by a single slender hand holding it down. Trys didn’t test the strength just yet. She was hoping to lull them into a false sense of security. Catgirls were stronger than they looked, but if she could catch them by surprise, she’d stand a chance.

Trys felt the catgirl slide down her body, and shivered slightly at the sensation. She’d never felt quite so much like a stripper pole. The catgirl came to her sizable ass and stopped. “She smells good!” Minty squealed.

“I bet she does,” the redhead said slyly. “It must be getting hard for her to focus. She probably can’t even see my eyes, can she?”

Trys’s heart pounded in her chest as she felt Minty’s breath on her pussy. Eyes? What eyes? She blinked.

Oh. Those eyes.

Two flickering flames flitted just out of the corner of her vision. She could only see them if she looked a certain way, a way that hurt her own eyes, made her dizzy and confused. But she could see them.

“That’s right,” the redhead hissed. “Look into them. See them dance. Aren’t they pretty?”

“I...” Trys stopped short and squirmed as she felt Minty’s tongue dart out, sampling the juices on her lower lips. “Oh!”

“She’s wet!” Minty said happily.

“Oh, reeeally?” the redhead teased. She kissed Trys’s neck. “I bet she is.” The eyes gleamed in front of Trys. Something about them struck her as strange, but she couldn’t blink anymore. The eyes burned into her like twin bonfires. “Ooh, I bet she loves this. Loves to stare into my eyes. Loves to breathe in those nice, sweet smells, let them make her nice and simple for us. What a fun toy we’ve caught!”

“I...” Trys’s mouth was suddenly dry. The eyes danced in front of her. Those smells hadn’t seemed toxic a second ago, but now she could swear she felt brain cells dying with every breath. She bit her lip. She needed a plan. “I, um...”

“She’s confused!” cooed the redhead, and Trys shook as a long, rough tongue ran up her neck. “Minty?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Make her un-confused, Minty.” The redhead giggled. “She needs our help.”

“Oh, please, n—”

Trys went stiff as the tongue suddenly darted onto her clit. She let out a scream. She started to thrash, but the catgirl holding her was impossibly strong. Or perhaps she was just weak. The eyes bored into her. Robbed her of sense.

“Feels good,” cooed the redhead. “Makes you so easy and simple. That’s what Minty and I are best at. We make ’em simple!”

“Guh...” Trys’s hips bucked and shook as the tongue bored deeper into her, probing every corner, lapping up her own sweet juices. “Buh...”

“Good toy!” the redhead said happily. “Doesn’t it feel so nice? No more thoughts. Just humans’ an’ kittens’ natural states: Horniness!” The eyes seemed to glow brighter with every lick down below. “We all hold on to complicated stuff. Family. Values. Numbers. Philosophy. But what makes us happy? Does your silly knight job make you happy?”

It didn’t. Not really. Trys stared deep into the flames. It just hurt. Every day, seeing how people tiptoed around her. Knowing she might have to face one of her old tormenters soon. But... it was important?

But so were the eyes. And so was the tongue. Trys’s mouth and mind hung open as she started to pant. She struggled to muster up the words to argue, to resist, but all she managed was a strangled, “Nnnnn...”

“That’s right!” the redheaded catgirl said gleefully. “It doesn’t! What makes you happy is tongues. Tongues and butts and boobies!” As Trys let out a loud moan, the redhead’s voice turned coy. “Especially that tongue.”

Trys needed to fight this. She needed to pull her arm away. But the candle kept spinning. Kept... spinning.

“So much more fun with us,” the redhead cooed. “We’re not like our mean sisters. We don’t like tickling and teasing. We don’t believe in ’em! Nuh-uh!”

Trys’s breaths were turning ragged. The eyes seemed to consume her entire mind, now. They filled her. The scents filled her. But most importantly, the tongue filled her. She was about to come. She could feel the ecstasy swelling within her, flicking out with every loving lick.

Trys intuitively understood this ‘game’ now. The catgirls were going to overload her with pleasure while they hypnotized her. Then, while she was caught in the afterglow, they would overwhelm her already weakening mind and brainwash her completely. So no matter what, she had to keep herself from orgasming. It was simple. Nice and simple and easy.

Just like her, she thought, giggling faintly.

“Know what we believe in?” the redhead sang. Trys felt her lips kissing tenderly down her neck. “Mmwell? Can you guess, slut?”

A hand reached out and tweaked Trys’s nipple. At the same time, the redhead’s tongue shot out again, licking the other nipple. And Minty’s tongue descended lovingly onto her clit and started to lap with gusto. Trys’s defenses melted into sticky, sweet honey.

“Pleasure,” she whimpered.

“What was that?”

“Pleasure!” Trys screamed. “Yummy, s-slutty pleasure!”

And she came. She shook and spasmed, but the catgirls just kept licking and licking, drawing the orgasm out for what seemed like forever.

As the orgasm finally subsided, and she lay there, panting for breath, still dazzled by the twin flames, she felt a soothing, rumbly vibration from the chest of the catgirl pressed against her. “Lots of it,” the redhead purred.

And then the licking started all over again.