Lavender pulls Annabelle close, and kisses her gently, feeling the weight of Annabelle atop her.

  “I love you,” she whispers in Annabelle’s ear. “Be gentle, alright? And thorough. We want to check everything.”

  Annabelle smiles, and nods. “Only the best for my Avie.” She kisses Lavender’s colr, then dismisses Lavender’s clothes and her own.

  Lavender shivers. Giving access to her personal inventory to Annabelle and Marigold was one of the best decisions she’s ever made, for moments just like this. All at once, it’s bare skin against skin, Annabelle’s wings pressing in against Lavender’s sides as she lies atop her.

  Annabelle kisses down her neck and shoulder, slowly, methodically. “I want to kiss every inch of skin,” she murmurs in Lavender’s ear. “Every pce on your body. Everywhere you might want to be touched. Everything needs to be perfect for my Avie.”

  Lavender sighs softly and smiles. “You’re doing a nice stress test right now, with all this friction…” She rolls her hips upwards, grinding herself against Annabelle’s thigh, a blush on her cheeks as she slowly rexes into Annabelle’s touch.

  “I think I know a better way, though,” Annabelle says. She shifts back and ys down to one side of Lavender. “Put your back to me?”

  Lavender does, settling back into the embrace of the taller woman, pressing back against her body with her own. Then Annabelle ys one wing and one arm over Lavender and pulls her in tight against her.

  “Cozy?” Annabelle murmurs in Lavender’s ear.

  “Yeah,” Lavender says. “Cozy.”

  Then Annabelle’s hand slips down to Lavender’s thigh, and hikes it into the air a little, making her spread her legs a little for her. “I want to be slow, but… that doesn’t mean I can’t be inside you.”

  Lavender flushes, but nods eagerly. She wants to feel Annabelle. She wants to be one with her. In every way. Close as she can be.

  Something hard presses against her inner thigh, and her sex clenches in reply. Fuck, she’s already feeling it just from the friction of Annabelle’s body against hers…

  “Please, Anna,” she begs. “Cim me. Deflower me. Make this new body yours forever.”

  Annabelle chuckles, low in her throat, the tones of her voice full of predatory intent. “With pleasure,” she says. She presses her cock to Avie’s entrance, teasing her, testing her. The anticipation builds, builds, each teasing stroke of her cockhead over Avie’s lower lips drawing a shivery sigh from her lips.

  Then Anna shifts her hips forwards and pushes deep, deep, deep inside Lavender, liquid and smooth and oh so thick inside her, breaking her hymen in a soft shock of pleasure-pain and ciming her for her own.

  “A-ah…” Lavender closes her eyes and presses back against Anna, feeling her cock throb deep inside her. With Anna’s wing around her, there’s nowhere to escape to — not that she wants to, but it makes her feel vulnerable and melty to be so thoroughly cimed. Her blood stains the bedsheets between her legs, the sign of her virginity being cimed, and the sight of it just drives her even more wild. Custom bodies are the best. She’d been so disappointed to learn the hymen doesn’t usually work like that — well, for this body it does, and so there!

  Lavender giggles at her private joke, and snuggles back into her wonderful Anna, her body enfolded, cimed, taken. She’s surrounded on all sides by her lover, and pierced through by her as well. It feels perfect.

  “Ticklish?” Annabelle asks, a smile in her voice.

  Lavender shakes her head. “Just happy. Happy to have another first time with you. It’s better when it’s a little bit more real.” She turns slightly against Annabelle, trying to meet her lips with her own; Annabelle leans in, and they kiss gently, softly, her hand stroking slowly down along Lavender’s stomach.

  “Good girl,” Annabelle whispers in Lavender’s ear. “Good, good girl.”

  “Your good girl,” Lavender replies. “Yours, yours, yours.”

  And Annabelle draws Lavender in close and stays, her shaft still buried deep inside Lavender. There’s no need for her to rush. Her digital body doesn’t tire, doesn’t ache from holding a position unless she wants it to. They can stay like this for as long as they want.

  Instead she kisses ever-so-tenderly along Lavender’s neck and shoulders, taking her time, savouring every little flinch and shiver she can draw from her. Her other hand tangles with Lavender’s, pinning her down, fingers interced, close as close…

  “Annabelle…” Lavender lets out a long sigh and smiiiiiles, feeling like she’s floating, soft pleasure and comfort and affection blurring her thoughts into a hazy mess of bliss. “Anna…”

  “My Lavender.” Annabelle punctuates the name with a slow roll of her hips. “My Avie.”

  “Yours.” Lavender purrs the word, that dreamy smile still lingering on her face.

  “Mine.” Annabelle squeezes Lavender’s hand, and kisses her vulnerable throat.

  “Ah… ?”

  Lavender rolls her hips very slightly, and Annabelle reciprocates, not quite thrusting so much as grinding in deep against Avie’s g-spot. Annabelle’s hand slips down over Lavender’s body, and settles over her clit, touching her ever so lightly, teasing at the sensitive nub.

  Lavender sighs and settles back into Annabelle, embraced close between her wing and her arm, and kisses her over her shoulder again, delicately at first but then with heat and tongue behind it. When she pulls away, she lets out a heavy pant of breath.

  “Anna...” She looks deep into her lover’s eyes, completely besotted with her, her body hot and eager and shivery with need.

  “Avie…” Annabelle can’t seem to tear her gaze from Lavender’s, their hands entangled, their bodies intertwined, becoming as closely one as flesh can withstand.

  “I love you,” Lavender whispers.

  “I love you too,” Annabelle replies, and gives her a delicate caress of her fingers across her clit. “Good girl, being so honest for me.”

  Lavender lets out a soft giggle at the tender touch, half-suppressing the pleasure. “I just can’t resist you, you know that.”

  “My perfect pet princess.” Annabelle nips Lavender’s shoulder, and rolls her hips slowly, grinding her cock inside Avie. “Ah… think we can get there the tantric way?”

  Lavender shivers, but then a small smile comes to her face and she kisses Annabelle back. “Let’s find out.”

  She closes her eyes, and focuses, listening to her body. The thickness of Annabelle’s cock inside her. The friction of her breasts against her back. The light py of her fingers across her clit, and the gentle press of her feathers against her skin. With every breath, the sensations shift just a little, just enough to stay fresh and new. She’s so close to Annabelle, interweaved with her again and again. She can feel each breath she takes, against her back in Annabelle’s chest and against her shoulder in the motions of the air. If she listens closely enough to her skin, she can even feel Annabelle’s gentle pulse, so soft and subtle yet undeniably there.

  And between her legs, there is the pressure and friction of Annabelle’s cock inside her. Lavender’s thighs can’t help but tense and tremble against it, her inner walls clenching as she focuses in on the subtle pleasure radiating from her groin — and thus producing more pleasure, which washes over her in gentle waves, each one slightly more intense than the st, as her body wakens to each subtle sensation and pulls it more directly to her awareness.

  It feels unspeakably intimate. She’s one with her love, feeling every inch of her, melting together with each breath. Their breaths slow and then synchronize as they y together, the feeling of connection only deepening with each moment.

  “Lavender…” Anna whispers the name in her ear, and electrifying sensation washes over her body in a cascade of pinpricks, her breath catching short, her body reacting so sharply to even the smallest things now.

  Lavender sighs out a breath, clenching involuntarily on Annabelle’s cock, and shifts back against her just the slightest amount, changing the connection of their two bodies by just the minutest amount.

  “Annabelle…”

  Anna shifts back, just the barest fraction, and presses her lips to Lavender’s shoulder in the gentlest kiss. Her cock throbs inside Avie, pressing in firm against her inner walls, and Lavender lets out another soft sigh.

  “I love you…”

  Lavender speaks it in a whisper, a blush on her cheeks, another soft wave of pleasure washing over her. It feels as if every nerve in her body is standing on end, attentive to the slightest breath or caress.

  Annabelle lets a single finger slip slowly across Lavender’s clit. “I love you too,” she murmurs back.

  “Lavender…” Annabelle clenches again at that soft touch, the sharpness of its pleasure burying it deep into her brain. “Haaaaaaaah… Fuck…”

  She can’t seem to keep her hips from moving. Holding the exact same position is hard, hard, hard, and she fails, fails, fails. Instead she finds herself making the slightest of grinding motions against Annabelle’s cock, feeling her inside and out.

  “I love you,” Annabelle manages. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

  She kisses at Lavender’s shoulder again and again, letting her lips trail across her skin.

  Lavender squeezes Annabelle’s hand in hers, even as her sex clenches against her cock, and closes her eyes. “Yours.”

  “Mine.” The word is a promise.

  “Close,” Lavender breathes. The pleasure is building, gathering in waves that wash over her and threaten to drown her. She can’t seem to hold her breath steady anymore. She needs it. She needs to come.

  Annabelle kisses her shoulder again, her breath equally shaky. “Me too.”

  “Together?”

  “Together.”

  Lavender shifts her hips back and forth, back and forth, the most gentle of grinding motions, and slowly, inexorably, comes to the crest of her pleasure, her tight quim pulsing with the need for release. The orgasm comes on slowly, like a sunrise dawning, a sweeping wave of heat and bright, sharp pleasure that washes over her whole body and fills her up to bursting. She can feel Annabelle’s cock pulsing inside her too, pumping shot after shot of thick, sticky seed deep into her newly-deflowered sex, ciming her, marking her, taking her.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhh, Anna...” is all Lavender can manage, her body overwhelmed by wave after wave of blissful golden light. “Anna…”

  “Avie,” Annabelle replies, her breath slowing and settling to a dreamy stillness. “My Lavender.”

  She leans in, and their lips meet, and all is right with the world.

  ~*~

  Sleep comes and cims Lavender, for an hour or a day, who can tell. And then she wakens again, still in her Annabelle's arms.

  "Mhhhhhhhhh..." She kisses Annabelle's wing and smiles. "What a lovely start. We'd really better see to the rest of the house now, though. Marigold must be so bored."

  Annabelle strokes a hand through Lavender's hair, feeling her soft fox ears and scritching gently behind them.

  "Yeah," she says. "Time to get up. You should go see where Marigold is — I think I caught the sound of her feet passing in the hallway."

  "I think I know where she'll be," Lavender says. "That window seat was for her, after all."

  Annabelle traces a finger along Lavender's colrbones. "You'll have offended her, I bet. Best go prepared to beg."

  "You two totally set me up," Lavender grouses. "She put you up to this, didn't she?"

  Annabelle ughs. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Go make your apologies and I'll set up the kitchen and make you breakfast. Fair deal?"

  Lavender hides a smile. "Fair deal."

  ~*~

  Lavender pads downstairs in her altogether, not bothering with clothes she’ll just have to take off again anyway, and comes close to the front window seat. There she is — Marigold, her dearest wife, wearing a bck dress with a long skirt and no shoes or socks, her nose buried in a book Lavender doesn’t recognize.

  Lavender gets down on her hands and knees, and crawls to the foot of the nook, knees padded by the plush-wood flooring. She bows her head deep and low to kiss her wife's right foot.

  Marigold pretends not to notice, her gaze lingering on the book she's reading, but just a slight sliver of a smile comes to her lips. She's enjoying this.

  Lavender kisses Marigold’s feet again and again, gently and delicately at first, but then with increasing ardor as she gets into the act of worship. Her sex wettens as she presses her lips to each toe of her Goddess' foot, abasing herself pitifully before her.

  She makes each kiss deep, passionate, pouring her love for her wife into each one, making it a testament, a token of her love and her submission.

  It takes several minutes of kissing before Marigold deigns to put down her book and turn her attention to Lavender. Her gaze is alight with cruel delight.

  "Finally come to abase yourself, have you? To make amends for letting your girlfriend cim your new body before your one and only wife?"

  Marigold feels a chill go through her. She's not sure how much of that is a real compint and how much is just part of the scene, but it doesn't matter: either way, what she should do is the same.

  She presses her forehead to the floor before her Goddess, and kisses it firmly. "Yes, Goddess. I'm yours, wholly and completely. There is no other in my heart that could ever compare to Your majesty and grace. You're better than me, prettier than me, smarter than me, kinder than me. You are everything I'm not. I am just filth beneath your foot, an insignificant speck."

  Though Lavender knows that in truth, Marigold loves her with all her heart and would literally die for her, for a moment in the scene she forgets all that, tossing aside their hard-forged connection and instead letting all her insecurity and fear come to her lips. For a moment, she really believes it — that she's a lesser being, not even on the same level with her wife, a tiny bug next to her omnipotence.

  "Please, Goddess, grant me Your mercy. I am but a humble worm and know nothing but sin. Let me be trampled beneath Your holy feet and ground in the dust beneath You. I'm filth. I lose. You win and I lose." She puts all the fervor she can muster into the appeal, letting her desperation to please and be redeemed shine through.

  Marigold smiles cattily. "I see. Now that you are stained with sin, you crave redemption. You need My holy touch to wash you clean..."

  She steps lightly on the back of Lavender's head, lightly grinding her face into the plushwood flooring. "Beg prettier."

  "Goddess..." Lavender thrills at that touch, despite how cruel it is. Her masochism coming to the fore, she finds her whole body thrilling with potential, her breath tense, the cleft between her legs slowly drooling onto the floor. "Please show pity on this poor supplicant. I live to serve You, wholly and completely, utterly and devotedly. You are the reason I exist. Please, please, please, won't you give Your blessing to this tiny, insignificant speck?"

  Marigold strokes her chin thoughtfully, a wicked smile still creasing her face. Then she lifts her foot from Lavender's face, and in the next moment Lavender is yanked upwards hard by a colr that wasn't there a moment ago, forced to bury her face deep into the cleft between Marigold's legs, her dress abruptly gone.

  "Taste of me," Marigold orders. "Please me. And perhaps then I will give you My blessing."

  Lavender shivers, and starts to p at Marigold's sex, running her tongue over her folds and clit in long, deep strokes. She tastes like flesh with a slight hint of acid; it's not exactly a pleasant taste, but nonetheless it draws Lavender in deeper, firmer, getting into her head and into her mouth and into the way she drools from between her legs. It tastes like her wife, and that means it's perfect.

  She lifts a hand to settle between her legs, to touch herself to her ensvement and her surrender — but her Goddess taps her hand away with one foot, and she surrenders once again with a low whine. Her wife wants her on a pink leash, tied up and tormented by her own arousal, and it's awful and perfect. She's here to serve Marigold, not to get off. If she's lucky she'll be allowed an orgasm after. If she's lucky and serves well.

  As she buries her tongue deeper, Marigold settles a hand in her hair, and her whole body thrills at that simple touch. She feels owned, cimed, kept. This is what she lives for. There's no pce in the world better than being on her knees for her Goddess Marigold.

  "Goddess," she gasps between ps, putting all her awe and submission into the word. It feels right, being beneath her, being her toy, being hers to use, and Lavender can't help but pour every scrap of devotion in her heart into her eager tongue. The taste of her, the scent of her, her touch her care her scorn — all of it is perfect, each word and touch a sign her Goddess cares about her, finds her worth Her time. She doesn’t care if she’s crushed or praised so long as her Goddess looks at her!

  Marigold sighs softly, a warm and gentle sound, and her sex clenches around Lavender’s tongue, her thighs tensing and then rexing. Her fingers in her hair pull Lavender away from her sex, and she looks down at her and smiles wide.

  “Good sve,” she says. “Good little worshipper. Stay. Stay beneath my feet, crushed beneath my majesty, for all eternity. Stay, stay, stay.”

  She leans down, and pulls Lavender up to very gently kiss her lips.

  “Mine to have and to hold, to crush and defeat, from this day until your dying day,” Marigold whispers in Lavender’s ear. “Remember the oath you swore, little sve. You’re mine. Mine forever.”

  Marigold pulls away and smiles, letting Lavender fall back to her knees on the floor. Her fingers fiddle with her wedding ring as if it were a toy, nudging it back and forth on her finger. Then she reaches out, and runs a hand through Lavender’s hair.

  “Good sve,” she says with a small smile. “Now, I believe there was some architecture you were going to attend to.”

  She flicks a hand, and both her and Lavender are abruptly dressed again — though the pink colr and leash at Lavender’s neck still leads off into Marigold’s hands.

  “Lead on,” Marigold says lightly, turning the leash over in her hands. “I believe there was work on the gardens outside to do, yes?”

  Lavender shivers, closes her eyes for a moment, and nods. The heat in her still wants satisfaction… but she knows better than to contravene her wife.

  “Yes, Goddess.”