Lusty Argonian Maid V2 Act VII Scene II (From the Elder Scrolls video game series)
They indulged in a dangerous game of roleplaying amidst the copper pots and the scent of cinnamon. Lifts-Her-Tail leaned over the marble counter, her emerald scales shimmering under the amber glow of the chandeliers. Her long, muscular tail twitched, sweeping the flour-dusted floor in a slow, rhythmic arc. She stared at the massive, pulsing shape straining against Crantius’s silk trousers, her forked tongue flicking out to taste the salt in the air.
“My goodness, that’s quite a loaf!” she hissed, her voice a raspy melody. “But how ever shall it fit my oven?”
Crantius gripped her hip, his fingers digging into the cool, pebbled skin of her waist. “This loaf isn’t ready for baking, my sweet. It has yet to rise.”
Lifts-Her-Tail let out a low, guttural trill, a sound that vibrated through her chest and echoed in the quiet kitchen. This particular brand of roleplaying always left her breathless, the risk of discovery adding a sharp edge to the pleasure. She glanced toward the heavy oak door leading to the master bedroom, then back to her employer’s hungry eyes.
“If only we could hurry that along,” she murmured, sliding her clawed fingers along the seam of his pants. “How would I accomplish such a task?”
“Oh, my foolish little Argonian maid,” Crantius whispered, his voice thick with lust, “you must use your hands.”
“You wish me to knead the loaf? Here?”
“Of course.”
She dropped to her knees, the rough tiles scraping against her scales. With a deft motion, she freed him, the heat of his cock radiating against her cool palms. Lifts-Her-Tail worked him with a firm, supple grip, mimicking the rhythm of dough being prepped for the hearth. The friction sparked a fire between them, their roleplaying blurring the line between service and obsession. She leaned forward, her mouth engulfing him, the slickness of her throat contrasting with the coarse texture of her skin. Crantius groaned, arching his back as she sucked him deep, her tail wrapping tight around his calf to anchor him to her reptilian hunger.
“But what if the mistress catches me?” she gasped, pulling back to look up at him with golden, slitted eyes. “Your loaf was meant to satisfy her appetite.”
“Don’t fret, my delicate flower,” he panted, thrusting his hips forward to meet her lips. “I’ll satisfy the mistress’s cravings later.”
He hoisted her onto the counter, sweeping flour and spices aside in a chaotic cloud. He entered her with a sharp thrust, the wet slap of skin on scales echoing in the room. Lifts-Her-Tail shrieked, her claws digging into his shoulders, leaving shallow red crescents in his expensive linen shirt. They collided in a feverish blur of motion, the scent of musk and sex replacing the aroma of baked goods. As the tension peaked, she clung to him, her body shuddering in a rhythmic, reptilian spasm.
“Very well,” she whimpered, her breath hot against his ear, “but I’m afraid my oven isn’t hot enough. It could take hours!”
Crantius buried his face in the crook of her neck, savoring the brine of her skin as he finished inside her. He smiled, the thrill of their secret roleplaying still humming in his veins.
“Plenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time.”