Growth
-By Drace Domino
Poison Ivy watched from one of her greenhouse windows as Harley enjoyed her most loyal minion. The two of them had arrived that very night, the thug delivering Harley to the only safe haven she had after a failed scheme that landed the Joker and most of her gang in jail. The thug had been silent but endlessly loyal to the young woman, and at Ivy’s encouragement she had given him a fitting reward in the form of a mounted bareback session amongst the beautiful but deadly plants.
Ivy had watched the whole thing through her window, her brow arched as she took it all in. Her light green skin had darkened at the cheeks and at her chest; a rougher green showing a heated blush that had overtaken her. It was an exciting thing to watch on both of their parts; the thug was well-endowed and took direction well, and Harley was...well, Harley was Harley, and she was always enjoyable to watch whether Ivy was allowed to touch or not. The woman smiled a bit as her friend dismounted and started to address her minion, and though Ivy was too far away to hear she could only imagine him receiving a few orders, chief amongst them to keep their encounter private. The Joker wouldn’t be in jail forever, and the selfish clown was unpredictable in what he considered his.
Ivy finally broke away from the window, padding through her greenhouse with a slow, casual pace. The evening had left her feeling a heat of her own, and she had briefly considered coaxing Harley into her bed that evening before dismissing the idea; Harley had just gone through a rough evening and their own intimate sessions tended to be a bit rough on good Dr. Quinzel. Harley had a way of bringing out the possessive, rough side of her. Still, watching her with the thug had brought one thing to mind that was bearing fruit within her.
Loyalty. The brutish goon had been well-rewarded for his, but Harley wasn’t the only one that had people that cared for her to such a degree. Perhaps it was time for Poison Ivy to show her own brand of minions the benefits of such dedication. While Ivy padded barefoot through her greenhouse, a flick of her wrist sent a distant vine drawing towards her, its end wrapped around the frame of a cell phone. Once it handed the phone to her she took the time to stroke the end of it affectionately, while her other hand began to type in a few numbers. As soon as the other end was picked up Ivy spoke; not waiting for the other’s voice or even to hear if she had the right person.
“I need you here.” She ordered softly; her tone that of an older woman that didn’t have to be forceful to command authority. “Leave the others, just you.”
She didn’t wait for a response before she hung the phone up, and handed it back to her enthralled vine. From there, the supervillain continued walking through her home, moving to the far end of the greenhouse where she typically held meetings with visitors. Harley would see herself back to the bedroom to rest, Ivy was sure, and it afforded her some alone time with the person she had called.
The idea of Harley curled up in her bedsheets made Ivy smile and blush slightly, and she once again pondered her alternate plan. Finally she laughed to herself, and as she walked through the overgrown greenhouse one of her hands tickled underneath a nearby flytrap’s chin, sending the plant into titillated fluttering.
“She can wait, my babies.” The woman spoke to her surroundings, as if all of the plants in her domain knew her thoughts. “There’s more dew on the petals in the morning, after all.”
By the time Ivy’s guest arrived, she had taken her place in what could best be described as her throne. At the far end of the greenhouse her oversized vines had coiled and wrapped about each other, sculpting themselves into a thick, tall seat that overlooked nearly the entire greenhouse. From her perch she could survey all of her beautiful darlings, and it was typically where she entertained visitors that didn’t have the special privilege of free reign like Harley did.
“Poison Ivy ma’am!” A young man’s voice broke the silence of Ivy’s peace, and her head turned to regard the boy entering. He was a handsome young man, a few days past his eighteenth birthday, if Ivy’s memory served. A pity she hadn’t had this idea sooner; it would’ve made for a delightful coming of age gift. Ivy said nothing as the boy moved to the throne, pulling down the hood of his sweatshirt to reveal youthful features marked with short brown hair. “What can I do for you? Is someone messing with you? Is it that bat again? I can take him, ma’am, I’ve been training!”
He started to drive his fists through the air in a hilarious display, and Ivy couldn’t help but throw her head back and laugh. As she did so the young man looked up with an embarrassed expression, his fists lowering and his shoulders slumping. The sheepish look passing over him made Ivy smile, and she consoled him while one of her hands lifted to twirl a finger about her rich red locks of hair.
“Oh, that’s cute.” She offered with a smirk, her throne positioned on the high ground relative to the young man, and her tone a mixture between regal and sultry. She let her words roll from her delicious tongue, and the plants and leaves that made up the entirety of her clothing accented her seduction by shifting back ever so slightly, revealing a little more of her light green flesh while she spoke. “You can handle the dregs of Gotham well enough, but I’m afraid Batman’s a bit out of your league. Besides, you know you fill a very important place in my life. If anything were to happen to me, they’d all be depending on you.”
The young man’s eyes flinched as Ivy reminded him of his responsibility, and it was clear that he recognized it, even if he’d rather be fighting Batman for her honor. Finally he gave a little nod and sighed, his hands drifting into his pockets and his face looking dejected. Ivy just smiled warmly, and continued to twirl her rich red locks around a finger.
For years she had tended to not only her plants, but the forgotten children of Gotham’s impoverished streets. Helpless things that didn’t understand the sins of adults, and fragile people that would only be turned hard and heartless by the dark reality of the city’s underworld. Every child she took in was one less unfortunate soul that would join up with the Penguin or Black Mask, or even worse, the GCPD. The young man that stood in the greenhouse’s lobby was amongst the first she had taken in, and from day one she knew that he had been taken with her. Childish adoration had been present from the beginning, and he had always requested an extra kiss on the forehead before bed in return for doing extra chores and doing far more than his share.
He had been loyal from the first time he looked at her, and she knew it. Now a man, he stood before her ready to fight the Batman if she wished it, despite both of them knowing it would only earn him a stay in prison with men much harder than he. She couldn’t help but appreciate that level of loyalty, and to take her own advice to Harley, that dedication deserved recognition.
“Do you remember what you told me when you were thirteen?” Ivy finally asked, and her finger moved from her hair to tease at the bottom of her lower lip. She drug it down a bit, pulling the darker green away from her teeth, offering a seductive, sweet smile. “Of course you do. Tell me again, the story makes me smile.” The young man looked up, a bit shy at the memory. Still, it was what Poison Ivy desired.
“I said I was going to marry you.” He responded, his cheeks darkening at the recollection. “I wanted to protect you. I wanted to...to be your husband and take care of you. I was a kid. I know that was just some stupid kid dream.”
“It was. It still is.” Ivy assured him simply, and rolled her shoulders with a little laugh. “I’m sure you can tell by now I’m not particularly domestic. Green thumb excluded, of course.” She accented her point by twirling her hand at the wrist, and watching as a series of vines snaked out from her throne. They rushed out towards the young man, who would’ve likely resisted or fled had Ivy not spoken up once more. “Don’t move, dear, they won’t hurt you.”
The young man had to resist the urge to flee as the vines overcame him; wrapping around his arms and legs and constricting to the point of a snug fit. Another one came up behind him and pressed to his back; giving him something to lean against as the vines suddenly started to lift him up. They did so as comfortable as possible as they brought him ten feet into the air, dragging him squarely before Poison Ivy’s throne as she studied him with calm, relaxed eyes.
One of her mostly-bare legs was folded across the other, and she let her gaze flicker along the young man’s frame. He had grown up well. Strong and fit, he had become a fine specimen that Ivy regretted not considering for her entertainment sooner. Even the blush on his cheeks in that moment was delightful, and she rewarded him by allowing one of her vines to brush along his cheek, smearing a bit of sap across his skin but otherwise showing him her endearing affection.
She had watched him grow up right under her nose, always aware of his affections and never allowing him the gift of reciprocating. From the young boy that fawned over her and followed her around endlessly, to the adolescent youth that thought he was being sneaky by hiding in the vines and playing with himself while looking at her. She knew; she always had known. After all, nothing happened in Poison Ivy’s domain without her complete knowledge. She had known, but she had done nothing...until now.
Two of the smaller vines curled up and moved to the front of the young man’s pants, the slender stalks turning their attention to his zipper. While they worked it down Ivy turned her gaze to the orphaned boy that had become a man, and she smirked softly as she regarded him.
“One time.” She spoke simply, and watched as the vines unzipped the boy’s pants and even curled inside; drawing his length out. From there the vines drew him close enough for Ivy to move her hand out, reaching her fingers around his length and giving him a slow, steady squeeze. “You get this one time. I want to make that clear so I don’t have to worry about you going out and buying a ring.”
“Y-Yes ma’am.” The boy whimpered, clearly in no position or desire to complain. His length had become almost instantly hard the second he realized what was going on, and within Ivy’s grip he continued to grow. He wasn’t the size of Harley’s thug, but Ivy imagined that wasn’t too much of a hindrance. He was younger and eager, and Ivy knew the benefits of those traits well. She smiled as his member throbbed against her hand, and while still seated upon her throne she drew her head forward, taking his tip into her dark green lips.
He gave a sudden moan, his fingers clenching into fists as the first warm rush of attention came to his length. Still bound by the arms and legs and dangled in the air like a ragdoll, he was helpless while Ivy began to service him in slow, teasing strokes. Her warm fingers moved against his shaft while she licked and kissed at his head, and one of her hands even lowered into the front of his jeans to gently cup his sack. She was slow and measured with her actions, a faint slurping noise filling his ears each time he could feel his shaft press into the woman’s mouth. His entire body grew tense with his muscles clenching, and his head dropped to look at the mass of red hair at his lap.
Poison Ivy was like a mother to all of her rescued children, but none more than him. Now that bond had taken an unusual twist, but also one he had wanted for years. The feel of Ivy’s dark lips moving down his length sent the boy’s senses reeling, and before even a few minutes passed Poison Ivy was taken by sudden surprise.
“Ma’am!” He called out suddenly as his length started to twitch, and Ivy was barely able to pull her head back in time before he started to fire. The first press of cream struck her lips but she soon moved her head back from it; her hand working his shaft to keep him slowly creaming. She watched as the young, virile man emptied himself for the moment, her steady strokes forcing his length to spit his load up to the air, only to land back down against her hand. Before long the light green of her hand was coated in white, and when she released his length she gazed down at the mess he had made.
Absently, Ivy trailed her tongue out across her lips, tasting the cream the young man had already shot there. She did so intentionally; making sure he could see it, knowing the effect it would have on a hormone-riddled teenager. With wide eyes he stared in rapt attention as she licked her lips clear of his cream before drawing her hand forward, and slowly letting her dark tongue stretch out. Their eyes met as she cleaned her own hand off; a series of short, small licks passing over the light green of her flesh. Before long she had fully cleaned herself, and made a show of swallowing his nectar. Her eyes then glanced down, and she gave a little grin.
As expected he was already at full mast again, the show bringing him back to life. Young men were easy to manipulate, and delightfully fun, as well.
“Such a good boy you’ve been for me over the years.” Ivy cooed, and let one of her fingers slither forward, teasing underneath his shaft. He gave a small squirm and his cheeks darkened, listening to his adopted mother. The ache of the vines stretching suddenly filled the room, and he watched as Ivy’s throne simply seemed to expand. The shifting, curling vines spread out to turn her throne into a couch, and a second later the horde of vines entwining him tossed him into the newly opened space. Seated beside Ivy, he barely had a chance to collect himself before the woman pounced.
He gave a noise of surprise as Ivy mounted him, straddling his waist and lowering a hand to take ahold of his wet, hard length. As easily as the vines moved so too did the leaves she considered clothing; and in a quick sweep they passed aside and fell from her, leaving her naked and exposed to his attentions. With a purr she leaned forward, whispering against the corner of his ear as she slowly started to lower herself.
“Good boys get rewarded.” She promised, and then her sex lowered, taking him into her mound. He moaned as her walls fell on all sides of him, squeezing his length and taking him to his hilt. Ivy’s hands moved to his and their fingers interlocked; the older woman drawing his hands up over his head, pinning him in a position of submission as she rode him. Her hips rolled from side to side in between bouncing up and down, her grin confident and collected, her eyes focused on the mask of pleasure that his face had become.
His moans were constant and nearly indecipherable, but Poison Ivy remained mostly silent. As she rode him the pleasure was certainly there, and with every crash down into his lap she could feel his thick length press deep within her, nearly striking her core. Still, she denied him whorish moans or desperate pants, knowing that her control of the situation was as much emotional as physical. Young men responded well to authority, and there was little control in being a desperate, mewling tramp. Instead she rode him with a coy smirk and a motherly presence, even though each thrust of his length made her body ache in pleasure.
He didn’t last long. Again his peak came suddenly and without expectation, and his young body twitched while his length started to spasm. Their hands tightened on each other while he started to fill her, and Ivy’s sex clenched its walls around him while he came. Jets of nectar filled her with warmth, and her own small peak came to her as she felt him go. By the end of it they were both glowing in post-orgasmic bliss, but Ivy’s clever eyes studied the young man’s body. He was breathing heavy but wasn’t exhausted; sweating but not dehydrated.
There was more she could have, more she could claim.
She rose from her seat; her sex pulling off of his length and leaving him to flop back into his lap. His length was softer now but still passably hard; enough that a bit of encouragement could build him back up. Ivy offered it this time by standing over his lap; one hand moving into his brown hair and forcing his head forward.
“We’re not done.” She half-reminded, half-warned him, and drew the boy’s head against her wet sex. There she held him to her body, one of her legs positioned forward so he could have access to her. He was inexperienced and sloppy, but in the moment she didn’t care. All she desired was the young man’s tongue against her sex, clearing the creampie he had forged and giving her room to take him again.
While the young man’s tongue worked against Ivy’s sex, collecting her thick, oddly-syrupy arousal mixed with his own spunk, the villainess pondered her idea to surprise Harley in the morning. She might have to put it off. At the rate they were going, with the young man’s energy and her own burning desires, she’d still be busy in the morning. She smiled wide, and pushed her hips forward, encouraging him to clean her quicker.
There was much to show. After all, he was a growing boy and there was no one else to teach him.
The End
--
Thanks for reading! :D Hope you're enjoying this ongoing commission, there's plenty more to come soon!
This one got its start through my Patreon! Check it out if you'd like a tale of your own!
-By Drace Domino
Poison Ivy watched from one of her greenhouse windows as Harley enjoyed her most loyal minion. The two of them had arrived that very night, the thug delivering Harley to the only safe haven she had after a failed scheme that landed the Joker and most of her gang in jail. The thug had been silent but endlessly loyal to the young woman, and at Ivy’s encouragement she had given him a fitting reward in the form of a mounted bareback session amongst the beautiful but deadly plants.
Ivy had watched the whole thing through her window, her brow arched as she took it all in. Her light green skin had darkened at the cheeks and at her chest; a rougher green showing a heated blush that had overtaken her. It was an exciting thing to watch on both of their parts; the thug was well-endowed and took direction well, and Harley was...well, Harley was Harley, and she was always enjoyable to watch whether Ivy was allowed to touch or not. The woman smiled a bit as her friend dismounted and started to address her minion, and though Ivy was too far away to hear she could only imagine him receiving a few orders, chief amongst them to keep their encounter private. The Joker wouldn’t be in jail forever, and the selfish clown was unpredictable in what he considered his.
Ivy finally broke away from the window, padding through her greenhouse with a slow, casual pace. The evening had left her feeling a heat of her own, and she had briefly considered coaxing Harley into her bed that evening before dismissing the idea; Harley had just gone through a rough evening and their own intimate sessions tended to be a bit rough on good Dr. Quinzel. Harley had a way of bringing out the possessive, rough side of her. Still, watching her with the thug had brought one thing to mind that was bearing fruit within her.
Loyalty. The brutish goon had been well-rewarded for his, but Harley wasn’t the only one that had people that cared for her to such a degree. Perhaps it was time for Poison Ivy to show her own brand of minions the benefits of such dedication. While Ivy padded barefoot through her greenhouse, a flick of her wrist sent a distant vine drawing towards her, its end wrapped around the frame of a cell phone. Once it handed the phone to her she took the time to stroke the end of it affectionately, while her other hand began to type in a few numbers. As soon as the other end was picked up Ivy spoke; not waiting for the other’s voice or even to hear if she had the right person.
“I need you here.” She ordered softly; her tone that of an older woman that didn’t have to be forceful to command authority. “Leave the others, just you.”
She didn’t wait for a response before she hung the phone up, and handed it back to her enthralled vine. From there, the supervillain continued walking through her home, moving to the far end of the greenhouse where she typically held meetings with visitors. Harley would see herself back to the bedroom to rest, Ivy was sure, and it afforded her some alone time with the person she had called.
The idea of Harley curled up in her bedsheets made Ivy smile and blush slightly, and she once again pondered her alternate plan. Finally she laughed to herself, and as she walked through the overgrown greenhouse one of her hands tickled underneath a nearby flytrap’s chin, sending the plant into titillated fluttering.
“She can wait, my babies.” The woman spoke to her surroundings, as if all of the plants in her domain knew her thoughts. “There’s more dew on the petals in the morning, after all.”
By the time Ivy’s guest arrived, she had taken her place in what could best be described as her throne. At the far end of the greenhouse her oversized vines had coiled and wrapped about each other, sculpting themselves into a thick, tall seat that overlooked nearly the entire greenhouse. From her perch she could survey all of her beautiful darlings, and it was typically where she entertained visitors that didn’t have the special privilege of free reign like Harley did.
“Poison Ivy ma’am!” A young man’s voice broke the silence of Ivy’s peace, and her head turned to regard the boy entering. He was a handsome young man, a few days past his eighteenth birthday, if Ivy’s memory served. A pity she hadn’t had this idea sooner; it would’ve made for a delightful coming of age gift. Ivy said nothing as the boy moved to the throne, pulling down the hood of his sweatshirt to reveal youthful features marked with short brown hair. “What can I do for you? Is someone messing with you? Is it that bat again? I can take him, ma’am, I’ve been training!”
He started to drive his fists through the air in a hilarious display, and Ivy couldn’t help but throw her head back and laugh. As she did so the young man looked up with an embarrassed expression, his fists lowering and his shoulders slumping. The sheepish look passing over him made Ivy smile, and she consoled him while one of her hands lifted to twirl a finger about her rich red locks of hair.
“Oh, that’s cute.” She offered with a smirk, her throne positioned on the high ground relative to the young man, and her tone a mixture between regal and sultry. She let her words roll from her delicious tongue, and the plants and leaves that made up the entirety of her clothing accented her seduction by shifting back ever so slightly, revealing a little more of her light green flesh while she spoke. “You can handle the dregs of Gotham well enough, but I’m afraid Batman’s a bit out of your league. Besides, you know you fill a very important place in my life. If anything were to happen to me, they’d all be depending on you.”
The young man’s eyes flinched as Ivy reminded him of his responsibility, and it was clear that he recognized it, even if he’d rather be fighting Batman for her honor. Finally he gave a little nod and sighed, his hands drifting into his pockets and his face looking dejected. Ivy just smiled warmly, and continued to twirl her rich red locks around a finger.
For years she had tended to not only her plants, but the forgotten children of Gotham’s impoverished streets. Helpless things that didn’t understand the sins of adults, and fragile people that would only be turned hard and heartless by the dark reality of the city’s underworld. Every child she took in was one less unfortunate soul that would join up with the Penguin or Black Mask, or even worse, the GCPD. The young man that stood in the greenhouse’s lobby was amongst the first she had taken in, and from day one she knew that he had been taken with her. Childish adoration had been present from the beginning, and he had always requested an extra kiss on the forehead before bed in return for doing extra chores and doing far more than his share.
He had been loyal from the first time he looked at her, and she knew it. Now a man, he stood before her ready to fight the Batman if she wished it, despite both of them knowing it would only earn him a stay in prison with men much harder than he. She couldn’t help but appreciate that level of loyalty, and to take her own advice to Harley, that dedication deserved recognition.
“Do you remember what you told me when you were thirteen?” Ivy finally asked, and her finger moved from her hair to tease at the bottom of her lower lip. She drug it down a bit, pulling the darker green away from her teeth, offering a seductive, sweet smile. “Of course you do. Tell me again, the story makes me smile.” The young man looked up, a bit shy at the memory. Still, it was what Poison Ivy desired.
“I said I was going to marry you.” He responded, his cheeks darkening at the recollection. “I wanted to protect you. I wanted to...to be your husband and take care of you. I was a kid. I know that was just some stupid kid dream.”
“It was. It still is.” Ivy assured him simply, and rolled her shoulders with a little laugh. “I’m sure you can tell by now I’m not particularly domestic. Green thumb excluded, of course.” She accented her point by twirling her hand at the wrist, and watching as a series of vines snaked out from her throne. They rushed out towards the young man, who would’ve likely resisted or fled had Ivy not spoken up once more. “Don’t move, dear, they won’t hurt you.”
The young man had to resist the urge to flee as the vines overcame him; wrapping around his arms and legs and constricting to the point of a snug fit. Another one came up behind him and pressed to his back; giving him something to lean against as the vines suddenly started to lift him up. They did so as comfortable as possible as they brought him ten feet into the air, dragging him squarely before Poison Ivy’s throne as she studied him with calm, relaxed eyes.
One of her mostly-bare legs was folded across the other, and she let her gaze flicker along the young man’s frame. He had grown up well. Strong and fit, he had become a fine specimen that Ivy regretted not considering for her entertainment sooner. Even the blush on his cheeks in that moment was delightful, and she rewarded him by allowing one of her vines to brush along his cheek, smearing a bit of sap across his skin but otherwise showing him her endearing affection.
She had watched him grow up right under her nose, always aware of his affections and never allowing him the gift of reciprocating. From the young boy that fawned over her and followed her around endlessly, to the adolescent youth that thought he was being sneaky by hiding in the vines and playing with himself while looking at her. She knew; she always had known. After all, nothing happened in Poison Ivy’s domain without her complete knowledge. She had known, but she had done nothing...until now.
Two of the smaller vines curled up and moved to the front of the young man’s pants, the slender stalks turning their attention to his zipper. While they worked it down Ivy turned her gaze to the orphaned boy that had become a man, and she smirked softly as she regarded him.
“One time.” She spoke simply, and watched as the vines unzipped the boy’s pants and even curled inside; drawing his length out. From there the vines drew him close enough for Ivy to move her hand out, reaching her fingers around his length and giving him a slow, steady squeeze. “You get this one time. I want to make that clear so I don’t have to worry about you going out and buying a ring.”
“Y-Yes ma’am.” The boy whimpered, clearly in no position or desire to complain. His length had become almost instantly hard the second he realized what was going on, and within Ivy’s grip he continued to grow. He wasn’t the size of Harley’s thug, but Ivy imagined that wasn’t too much of a hindrance. He was younger and eager, and Ivy knew the benefits of those traits well. She smiled as his member throbbed against her hand, and while still seated upon her throne she drew her head forward, taking his tip into her dark green lips.
He gave a sudden moan, his fingers clenching into fists as the first warm rush of attention came to his length. Still bound by the arms and legs and dangled in the air like a ragdoll, he was helpless while Ivy began to service him in slow, teasing strokes. Her warm fingers moved against his shaft while she licked and kissed at his head, and one of her hands even lowered into the front of his jeans to gently cup his sack. She was slow and measured with her actions, a faint slurping noise filling his ears each time he could feel his shaft press into the woman’s mouth. His entire body grew tense with his muscles clenching, and his head dropped to look at the mass of red hair at his lap.
Poison Ivy was like a mother to all of her rescued children, but none more than him. Now that bond had taken an unusual twist, but also one he had wanted for years. The feel of Ivy’s dark lips moving down his length sent the boy’s senses reeling, and before even a few minutes passed Poison Ivy was taken by sudden surprise.
“Ma’am!” He called out suddenly as his length started to twitch, and Ivy was barely able to pull her head back in time before he started to fire. The first press of cream struck her lips but she soon moved her head back from it; her hand working his shaft to keep him slowly creaming. She watched as the young, virile man emptied himself for the moment, her steady strokes forcing his length to spit his load up to the air, only to land back down against her hand. Before long the light green of her hand was coated in white, and when she released his length she gazed down at the mess he had made.
Absently, Ivy trailed her tongue out across her lips, tasting the cream the young man had already shot there. She did so intentionally; making sure he could see it, knowing the effect it would have on a hormone-riddled teenager. With wide eyes he stared in rapt attention as she licked her lips clear of his cream before drawing her hand forward, and slowly letting her dark tongue stretch out. Their eyes met as she cleaned her own hand off; a series of short, small licks passing over the light green of her flesh. Before long she had fully cleaned herself, and made a show of swallowing his nectar. Her eyes then glanced down, and she gave a little grin.
As expected he was already at full mast again, the show bringing him back to life. Young men were easy to manipulate, and delightfully fun, as well.
“Such a good boy you’ve been for me over the years.” Ivy cooed, and let one of her fingers slither forward, teasing underneath his shaft. He gave a small squirm and his cheeks darkened, listening to his adopted mother. The ache of the vines stretching suddenly filled the room, and he watched as Ivy’s throne simply seemed to expand. The shifting, curling vines spread out to turn her throne into a couch, and a second later the horde of vines entwining him tossed him into the newly opened space. Seated beside Ivy, he barely had a chance to collect himself before the woman pounced.
He gave a noise of surprise as Ivy mounted him, straddling his waist and lowering a hand to take ahold of his wet, hard length. As easily as the vines moved so too did the leaves she considered clothing; and in a quick sweep they passed aside and fell from her, leaving her naked and exposed to his attentions. With a purr she leaned forward, whispering against the corner of his ear as she slowly started to lower herself.
“Good boys get rewarded.” She promised, and then her sex lowered, taking him into her mound. He moaned as her walls fell on all sides of him, squeezing his length and taking him to his hilt. Ivy’s hands moved to his and their fingers interlocked; the older woman drawing his hands up over his head, pinning him in a position of submission as she rode him. Her hips rolled from side to side in between bouncing up and down, her grin confident and collected, her eyes focused on the mask of pleasure that his face had become.
His moans were constant and nearly indecipherable, but Poison Ivy remained mostly silent. As she rode him the pleasure was certainly there, and with every crash down into his lap she could feel his thick length press deep within her, nearly striking her core. Still, she denied him whorish moans or desperate pants, knowing that her control of the situation was as much emotional as physical. Young men responded well to authority, and there was little control in being a desperate, mewling tramp. Instead she rode him with a coy smirk and a motherly presence, even though each thrust of his length made her body ache in pleasure.
He didn’t last long. Again his peak came suddenly and without expectation, and his young body twitched while his length started to spasm. Their hands tightened on each other while he started to fill her, and Ivy’s sex clenched its walls around him while he came. Jets of nectar filled her with warmth, and her own small peak came to her as she felt him go. By the end of it they were both glowing in post-orgasmic bliss, but Ivy’s clever eyes studied the young man’s body. He was breathing heavy but wasn’t exhausted; sweating but not dehydrated.
There was more she could have, more she could claim.
She rose from her seat; her sex pulling off of his length and leaving him to flop back into his lap. His length was softer now but still passably hard; enough that a bit of encouragement could build him back up. Ivy offered it this time by standing over his lap; one hand moving into his brown hair and forcing his head forward.
“We’re not done.” She half-reminded, half-warned him, and drew the boy’s head against her wet sex. There she held him to her body, one of her legs positioned forward so he could have access to her. He was inexperienced and sloppy, but in the moment she didn’t care. All she desired was the young man’s tongue against her sex, clearing the creampie he had forged and giving her room to take him again.
While the young man’s tongue worked against Ivy’s sex, collecting her thick, oddly-syrupy arousal mixed with his own spunk, the villainess pondered her idea to surprise Harley in the morning. She might have to put it off. At the rate they were going, with the young man’s energy and her own burning desires, she’d still be busy in the morning. She smiled wide, and pushed her hips forward, encouraging him to clean her quicker.
There was much to show. After all, he was a growing boy and there was no one else to teach him.
The End
--
Thanks for reading! :D Hope you're enjoying this ongoing commission, there's plenty more to come soon!
This one got its start through my Patreon! Check it out if you'd like a tale of your own!
This text is part of a set with 3 other files.
Siren Housecalls by DraceDomino
Tags 1
Similar
Peter-Parker-FUCKS-Marvel by Cambrian “See you around, kitty cat.”
And like that, he was gone and Felicia Hardy, currently dressed in her guise as the cat burglar, ‘Black Cat’, is left with her eyes wide, her nostrils flaring, and her face bright red beneath the mask. If there was one thing Felicia enjoyed, it was teasing Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man. The way that the two of them had come to be frenemies and come to know each other’s secret identities wasn’t entirely important. What was important was their current relationshi…
Spicing-Things-Up-Overwatch by Cambrian Sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other to enact an air of nonchalance, Lena subsequently ruins that effort by gripping a bit too tightly at her knee with both hands, biting her lower lip and trying not to squirm too much as the noises from a few feet away fill the room. Lena Oxton, aka Tracer, should probably be upset or something about what she’s witnessing… but at the same time, can it really be cheating if she’s there and they’re planning to… to enjoy this together? …
Moonlit Passion by WriterWrathorn Tags: [Lesbian][Luna - F][Mirana - F][Luna domme][Mirana sub][More romantic stuff][More BDSM play][Consensual] lots of [Clean Anal play][Rimming][Toys][Slapping]
Greetings! I’ve had a lot of positive reception to this story, and so I’ve decided to add another chapter. Thank you for all your comments, it really made my week!
***
“You want me to take the lead next time?” Luna suppressed a yawn, doing her best to pay attention to Mirana’s rambling. They’d been riding since midday and the…
Orgasm Torture by J-Cal Trin sat, her ankles still securely fastened to her thighs, a ring-gag still forcing her wet mouth open, her arms still bound behind her back by tight ropes around her wrists and above the elbows. Legs spread, her tight young womanhood had still the eight inch fake manhood inside her, vibrating as powerfully as ever, with one strap of the dildo’s harness pushing against her clit. She huffed and groaned softly, sweat beading on her face and elsewhere. Under her, a small pool of her womanly juice…
Overwatch-Fallen-Angel by Barrel-of-fun Interested in supporting a new smut artist? Please check out my Patreon!
New stories and updates every Saturday. Got something you want to see? Comment or message with more prompts!
More stories, both smut and not, to come so please leave comment to feed a starving writer. Enjoy!
----------------------------------------
“Not a chance.”
Beautiful, deadly, and completely unmatched. Sombra grinned as she annihilated another script kiddie that had dared to challenge her. W…
Peter-Parker-FUCKS-Marvel by Cambrian Wanda Maximoff’s life was one of undeniable tragedy. Orphaned alongside her brother as children, drawn into Hydra’s clutches, their hatred used and fed into and twisted up inside of them until they became willing experiments. Finding out it was all a lie, finding out she’d been wrong for so long… her brother dying shortly after…
Yes, while Wanda had made plenty of mistakes along the way, there was no denying that the universe itself almost seemed to have it in for her. So really, she hadn…
Orgasm Torture by J-Cal I don't know how I ended up here. I'd been walking home from town in the biting chill and rain, hurrying along to avoid being exposed to the razor winds for more than what was needed. I had entered my front door, then… nothing. I don't know if I blacked out or of something made me black out, all I knew is that I wasn't home anymore. I was inside a softly illuminated room, lying on my back in a large, soft bed. And I couldn't move.
A young, beautiful and naked girl - apparently she intended…
Peter-Parker-FUCKS-Marvel by Cambrian Sitting in the living room of the house that SHIELD has bought for her current long-term assignment, Natasha finds herself reflecting on her current circumstances, even as she grades math tests. If someone had asked the gorgeous crimson-haired femme fatale if she ever thought this was what she would be doing in her twilight years, well, she would have laughed in their face. Partially because most people in her line of work didn’t last to even SEE their twilight years.
And she truly was in…
Behind-Enemy-Lines by Kou-32 As the sun broke over the horizon, the two huntresses were still bound and laid in their cage. Aloy was the first to wake from a dreamless sleep. The redhead took a sharp intake through her nose, feeling how sore her body was from being bound on the ground all night. However, there was also a rather pleasant warmth against her left shoulder. The huntresses turned her head to see Talanah still sleeping using her freckled shoulder as a pillow. The Thrush smiled, as much as she could, at how peace…
The-World-Could-Always-Use-More by DiceCasden Sitting cross-legged on a couch, and wearing bright yellow tights and a brown bomber jacket, a gorgeous thin woman smiles cheekily at the camera.
“And who do we have here today? What’s you’re age and where you’re from?”
“My name is Lena Oxton, but my mates call me Tracer! I’m 26 and I’m from the good old UK!” Lena says with a grin.
“Well Tracer, what brings you here today?”
“Well my girlfriend Emily had this crazy idea that I could be really famous if I went into…
Loading comments...