[Fic] [Round 21] A Kitchen Table's Purpose, NC-17
Author/Artist: (seamusog)
Characters/Pairings: Table/Lazania/Sangria/Doria
Word Count: 2251
Rating: NC-17
Any Warnings: Sex. The author may have been temporarily insane when she wrote this. She claims Rule 34 must be enforced.
Theme/Prompt being used: Non-speaker POV and Politics
Author's Notes: This is dedicated to sammy_h who inspired this piece of craziness. This is also my first time writing an NC-17 fic so if you have time, I'd appreciate your concrit.
Click here for the picture that inspired this (warning: very graphic).
A Kitchen Table's Purpose
I grew up as an unremarkable tree in the demon kingdom's forests, cut down by one of many demon lumberjacks, and shaped into what I am today; a humble, slightly above-average but sturdy work table, good enough to be brought into the demon king's castle but not good enough to be used by the demon king himself.
I have spent most of my career in this kitchen. Not the main kitchen that houses many of my brethren. No, I am special. At least to the three maids whose kitchen I live in. They have brought me here on purpose after testing many tables at the shop with the full weight of their bouncing bodies. I wasn't really sure what they were doing but it seemed, after praising my strength, the width and length of my surface area and the smoothness of my finish, I passed muster and the next thing I knew, I was here.
The kitchen itself is small and intimate, having only one oven and a few stoves. There were a few pots and dishes but not as much as one would expect in a regular kitchen. It seems almost that they are there to lend credence to the place. There are a couple of other tables here with me. When I was first brought here, I had wondered a bit about that. It seemed to me at the time that there was no need for an extra table in that small room. Not that I was complaining. I'd rather be the table of three delicate maids than be the table for the town butcher. I'm not vain, but having deep grooves and notches and bloodstain embedded in me is not my cup of tea. I am therefore very happy in securing a spot here in this abnormal kitchen. Abnormal in that it is the only kitchen I'm aware of that has a lock and several non-kitchen type tools and implements and used for non-kitchen type activities. The first day I came, the maids spread out several papers on my surface. "Ah ha!", I thought giving myself kudos for figuring out my main purpose. Of course, they wouldn't want important documents getting dirtied by food, drinks or other items. And if they were indeed very important, then the lock in the door was understandable. Perhaps the maids were spies or undercover agents. I was suitably excited.
As oppose to what most animate objects think, the inanimate are quite interested in what goes on around them. And yes, we have more than a passing fancy for the social and political lives of royalty. After all, we would be just as affected as demons, humans and animals if something ever happened to the demon king or to the demon kingdom.
The day I was cut down, the forests were rife with rumors. There were speculations that the Queen had wanted to step down to go on a quest for free love. Not that I blame her, I myself was a rebel and I had hated being tied down to one spot; after many decades of standing in the forest with nothing to do but watch my surrounding, and wait for and listen to the little snippets of castle drama, life quickly became boring. So it was with some excitement that I joined my fellow lumber as we traveled to the mill. I dreamt and hoped, even knowing the odds were against me, of going to the castle.
It was many months later (of sitting in the sun, waiting for my sap to dry out) before I was sent to a well-known carpenter's guild. I would be lying if I said that it had not given me a thrill to be sent to this particular enterprise. Their prestige precedes them and are quite famous for the pieces they have produced over the centuries, a significant number of which have ended up at the castle. I was even more pleased when the newest scuttlebutt reached me. The furniture shops being closer to the castle meant the gossip was fresher and more detailed. It was reported that the oldest prince and the youngest prince had traveled to the demon queen's castle from their own territories to convince Her Majesty not to give up the throne yet. It was, also, rumored that she was determined not to listen and that the middle prince had already been sent to fetch the new demon king. But the most important news to us and to the carpenters was the speculated commission to furnish the new king's bedchamber.
I wouldn't have minded becoming a desk or a bookcase or a chair in the king's or any of the princes' studies but those positions were already filled. I would not have minded even becoming part of the royal dining table. However, the current occupant has held that venerable spot for centuries and had no plans of retiring anytime soon. My hope then was to become part of the king's bed. Not that I was some kind of voyeur that wants to see the demon king and his future lovers exchange pollen. But it was well known that the Maou's bedchamber held more secrets than the Maou's throne room. I wanted to be were the action was.
Alas, such wish was not to be. An unsavory knot had sullied my perfection and I was deemed unsuitable for the honored position. I was at my lowest when I, as a slightly above-average kitchen table, sat in a town shop waiting to be purchased by any plebe when the three maids showed up and rescued me.
These three angels whom I shall worship for all eternity not only saved me from a lifetime of mediocre existence but has also shown me the error of my youth. The innermost secrets of the kingdom are not gathered in the bedchamber nor any other room in the castle but here in this small kitchen. The bedchamber may host the demon king, his fiancé and his daughter, however, these occupants, loved as they are by all of us, only do silly things in that room like reading terrible stories about a poison lady, having pillow fights and kicking each other off the bed. And speaking of the demon king's bed, that same employment that I had wanted so badly, it is not as fortunate as I am in my current position for it cannot walk around as the maids can. They are anywhere and everywhere anytime anything important happens. And they bring the news here. To me. In little pieces of paper.
Imagine my shock when I learned my true purpose in this small kitchen. Being the center of all castle politics (and I am not being arrogant when I say this; after all, I was one of the first to know of the demon king's engagement to the youngest prince, his attempted elopement with the oldest prince and his various get-togethers with the middle prince), I was under the impression that this was the most important post that any furniture could hold. And I was quite content.
It started out as an ordinary day. The maids reported the king's abrupt disappearance the previous evening to his home world leaving the youngest prince in a very frustrated disposition. Perhaps it had been the act of witnessing the prince's bold moves that precipitated the events. I doubt it. My roommates, the other two tables, have always whispered of a predecessor that didn't quite get my job done. I assume it is not out of jealousy that they say such things. The brunette had been standing over one of them decorating a cake, talking animatedly about the prince and his predicament the night before in lurid details. I could sense her temperature rising as she spoke which was mirrored by the blond who was sitting on the chair by my side gently gliding her hand over my smooth surface while recording said events and tallying up points in a notebook (it was the ever-important database containing all the predictions for the delicate finagling that is castle politics). The blond maid had stopped writing and she gazed at the brunette silently until the other one stopped talking about the prince and asked if there was something on her face. The one by my side only nodded and gestured for her to come over to me.
When the brunette reached me, the blond stood up and said that there was icing on a cheek and offered to clean it off. She did not wait for an answer. Now, I may only be a lowly kitchen table, but I had been around long enough to know that the way to clean icing off of someone else's cheeks was to use a handkerchief or a towel or perhaps even a sleeve. A girl wouldn't use her tongue to clean it. We're talking about demons here, not cats or dogs.
The blond apparently was not satisfied with just cleaning the offending cheek because she started licking other parts of the brunette's body. I would be the first to say that I had never witnessed demons clean themselves but I had an understanding that they use water, lots of it. However, my dear blond savior might have thought water was too impersonal to be touching the other maid, who by this time was showing her ardent approval of her companion's ministrations.
Well, this is certainly something different, I thought to myself as the blond divested the brunette of her top. I learned quickly that nipples were one of the dirtiest part of a demon's body because the blond spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning them. At first, I thought she must be thirsty. But then I realized the other couldn't possibly be lactating since I had not seen any babies lurking about. Besides adult animals don't make a habit of drinking milk, do they? I concluded then that in order to clean those pesky parts, one had to rub and suck and lick them until the other demon was moaning. The cleaning must have been done very well as the brunette seeked to return the favor. Soon the other top was off and the other set of nipples were enthusiastically tongue-washed eliciting even more moans.
When they were both satisfied that both chests were cleaned, the two thanked each other in a speech that was quite different from any I had witnessed before. Yes, there were sounds and perhaps even words but they were completely muffled at best as the two girls talked with tongues inside each other's mouth. It seemed that they agreed that they were still fairly dirty (I did make out the phrase "dirty girl" a couple of times) as both dresses fell to the ground.
The brunette heaved the blond onto my surface. She lied down and opened her legs while the other girl started licking her down... Wait! Wait a minute. That was her... oh flowers from on high! what was that other word for cat... Anyway, she licked her down there in her private area where the pistil is located. Why animals are so particular about their so-called private areas, I don't know. Plants like I was in my youth displayed our reproductive organs quite proudly and let any animate and inanimate object touch them. But animals usually only pay attention to these organs when they were in heat.
The demons were mating! Heavens! Why had I not realize this?!
Probably because not only were they my angels, my saviors, outstanding in their purity, untouchable by any mundane earthy matters, but they were both female. The matings I had previously been privy to had all involved a male and a female. This was the first time I had seen one between a female and a female.
It was undoubtedly a mating as both girls were now on the table stimulating each other's... pistils, petals (I'll remember the word one of these days). Then everything stopped with a combined gasp. The door had opened.
There stood the green-haired maid with a look of surprise clearly written on her face. She closed the door with haste and locked it. She then berated her colleagues for their inappropriateness. The two answered with naughty grins and mentions of excitement of the danger of being found out. I didn't really understand what that meant but it did result with the third maid rolling her eyes.
I thought the session had ended with the introduction of a third party. I was quite aware of demons' and humans' penchance for privacy during mating. I was slightly disappointed... okay, I was very disappointed. I had been thoroughly enjoying myself.
If I had eyes, they would have bulged out of their sockets as the green-haired maid started unbuttoning her top and exposing those dirty nipples. She walked over to me and took off her panties. She didn't wait to take the rest of her clothing off, she merely placed her right leg onto me exposing her... pussy (that's it, that's the word I was looking for) to the brunette and the 'cleansing' restarted.
At last, I had understood my real purpose!
Characters/Pairings: Table/Lazania/Sangria/Doria
Word Count: 2251
Rating: NC-17
Any Warnings: Sex. The author may have been temporarily insane when she wrote this. She claims Rule 34 must be enforced.
Theme/Prompt being used: Non-speaker POV and Politics
Author's Notes: This is dedicated to sammy_h who inspired this piece of craziness. This is also my first time writing an NC-17 fic so if you have time, I'd appreciate your concrit.
Click here for the picture that inspired this (warning: very graphic).
A Kitchen Table's Purpose
I grew up as an unremarkable tree in the demon kingdom's forests, cut down by one of many demon lumberjacks, and shaped into what I am today; a humble, slightly above-average but sturdy work table, good enough to be brought into the demon king's castle but not good enough to be used by the demon king himself.
I have spent most of my career in this kitchen. Not the main kitchen that houses many of my brethren. No, I am special. At least to the three maids whose kitchen I live in. They have brought me here on purpose after testing many tables at the shop with the full weight of their bouncing bodies. I wasn't really sure what they were doing but it seemed, after praising my strength, the width and length of my surface area and the smoothness of my finish, I passed muster and the next thing I knew, I was here.
The kitchen itself is small and intimate, having only one oven and a few stoves. There were a few pots and dishes but not as much as one would expect in a regular kitchen. It seems almost that they are there to lend credence to the place. There are a couple of other tables here with me. When I was first brought here, I had wondered a bit about that. It seemed to me at the time that there was no need for an extra table in that small room. Not that I was complaining. I'd rather be the table of three delicate maids than be the table for the town butcher. I'm not vain, but having deep grooves and notches and bloodstain embedded in me is not my cup of tea. I am therefore very happy in securing a spot here in this abnormal kitchen. Abnormal in that it is the only kitchen I'm aware of that has a lock and several non-kitchen type tools and implements and used for non-kitchen type activities. The first day I came, the maids spread out several papers on my surface. "Ah ha!", I thought giving myself kudos for figuring out my main purpose. Of course, they wouldn't want important documents getting dirtied by food, drinks or other items. And if they were indeed very important, then the lock in the door was understandable. Perhaps the maids were spies or undercover agents. I was suitably excited.
As oppose to what most animate objects think, the inanimate are quite interested in what goes on around them. And yes, we have more than a passing fancy for the social and political lives of royalty. After all, we would be just as affected as demons, humans and animals if something ever happened to the demon king or to the demon kingdom.
The day I was cut down, the forests were rife with rumors. There were speculations that the Queen had wanted to step down to go on a quest for free love. Not that I blame her, I myself was a rebel and I had hated being tied down to one spot; after many decades of standing in the forest with nothing to do but watch my surrounding, and wait for and listen to the little snippets of castle drama, life quickly became boring. So it was with some excitement that I joined my fellow lumber as we traveled to the mill. I dreamt and hoped, even knowing the odds were against me, of going to the castle.
It was many months later (of sitting in the sun, waiting for my sap to dry out) before I was sent to a well-known carpenter's guild. I would be lying if I said that it had not given me a thrill to be sent to this particular enterprise. Their prestige precedes them and are quite famous for the pieces they have produced over the centuries, a significant number of which have ended up at the castle. I was even more pleased when the newest scuttlebutt reached me. The furniture shops being closer to the castle meant the gossip was fresher and more detailed. It was reported that the oldest prince and the youngest prince had traveled to the demon queen's castle from their own territories to convince Her Majesty not to give up the throne yet. It was, also, rumored that she was determined not to listen and that the middle prince had already been sent to fetch the new demon king. But the most important news to us and to the carpenters was the speculated commission to furnish the new king's bedchamber.
I wouldn't have minded becoming a desk or a bookcase or a chair in the king's or any of the princes' studies but those positions were already filled. I would not have minded even becoming part of the royal dining table. However, the current occupant has held that venerable spot for centuries and had no plans of retiring anytime soon. My hope then was to become part of the king's bed. Not that I was some kind of voyeur that wants to see the demon king and his future lovers exchange pollen. But it was well known that the Maou's bedchamber held more secrets than the Maou's throne room. I wanted to be were the action was.
Alas, such wish was not to be. An unsavory knot had sullied my perfection and I was deemed unsuitable for the honored position. I was at my lowest when I, as a slightly above-average kitchen table, sat in a town shop waiting to be purchased by any plebe when the three maids showed up and rescued me.
These three angels whom I shall worship for all eternity not only saved me from a lifetime of mediocre existence but has also shown me the error of my youth. The innermost secrets of the kingdom are not gathered in the bedchamber nor any other room in the castle but here in this small kitchen. The bedchamber may host the demon king, his fiancé and his daughter, however, these occupants, loved as they are by all of us, only do silly things in that room like reading terrible stories about a poison lady, having pillow fights and kicking each other off the bed. And speaking of the demon king's bed, that same employment that I had wanted so badly, it is not as fortunate as I am in my current position for it cannot walk around as the maids can. They are anywhere and everywhere anytime anything important happens. And they bring the news here. To me. In little pieces of paper.
Imagine my shock when I learned my true purpose in this small kitchen. Being the center of all castle politics (and I am not being arrogant when I say this; after all, I was one of the first to know of the demon king's engagement to the youngest prince, his attempted elopement with the oldest prince and his various get-togethers with the middle prince), I was under the impression that this was the most important post that any furniture could hold. And I was quite content.
It started out as an ordinary day. The maids reported the king's abrupt disappearance the previous evening to his home world leaving the youngest prince in a very frustrated disposition. Perhaps it had been the act of witnessing the prince's bold moves that precipitated the events. I doubt it. My roommates, the other two tables, have always whispered of a predecessor that didn't quite get my job done. I assume it is not out of jealousy that they say such things. The brunette had been standing over one of them decorating a cake, talking animatedly about the prince and his predicament the night before in lurid details. I could sense her temperature rising as she spoke which was mirrored by the blond who was sitting on the chair by my side gently gliding her hand over my smooth surface while recording said events and tallying up points in a notebook (it was the ever-important database containing all the predictions for the delicate finagling that is castle politics). The blond maid had stopped writing and she gazed at the brunette silently until the other one stopped talking about the prince and asked if there was something on her face. The one by my side only nodded and gestured for her to come over to me.
When the brunette reached me, the blond stood up and said that there was icing on a cheek and offered to clean it off. She did not wait for an answer. Now, I may only be a lowly kitchen table, but I had been around long enough to know that the way to clean icing off of someone else's cheeks was to use a handkerchief or a towel or perhaps even a sleeve. A girl wouldn't use her tongue to clean it. We're talking about demons here, not cats or dogs.
The blond apparently was not satisfied with just cleaning the offending cheek because she started licking other parts of the brunette's body. I would be the first to say that I had never witnessed demons clean themselves but I had an understanding that they use water, lots of it. However, my dear blond savior might have thought water was too impersonal to be touching the other maid, who by this time was showing her ardent approval of her companion's ministrations.
Well, this is certainly something different, I thought to myself as the blond divested the brunette of her top. I learned quickly that nipples were one of the dirtiest part of a demon's body because the blond spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning them. At first, I thought she must be thirsty. But then I realized the other couldn't possibly be lactating since I had not seen any babies lurking about. Besides adult animals don't make a habit of drinking milk, do they? I concluded then that in order to clean those pesky parts, one had to rub and suck and lick them until the other demon was moaning. The cleaning must have been done very well as the brunette seeked to return the favor. Soon the other top was off and the other set of nipples were enthusiastically tongue-washed eliciting even more moans.
When they were both satisfied that both chests were cleaned, the two thanked each other in a speech that was quite different from any I had witnessed before. Yes, there were sounds and perhaps even words but they were completely muffled at best as the two girls talked with tongues inside each other's mouth. It seemed that they agreed that they were still fairly dirty (I did make out the phrase "dirty girl" a couple of times) as both dresses fell to the ground.
The brunette heaved the blond onto my surface. She lied down and opened her legs while the other girl started licking her down... Wait! Wait a minute. That was her... oh flowers from on high! what was that other word for cat... Anyway, she licked her down there in her private area where the pistil is located. Why animals are so particular about their so-called private areas, I don't know. Plants like I was in my youth displayed our reproductive organs quite proudly and let any animate and inanimate object touch them. But animals usually only pay attention to these organs when they were in heat.
The demons were mating! Heavens! Why had I not realize this?!
Probably because not only were they my angels, my saviors, outstanding in their purity, untouchable by any mundane earthy matters, but they were both female. The matings I had previously been privy to had all involved a male and a female. This was the first time I had seen one between a female and a female.
It was undoubtedly a mating as both girls were now on the table stimulating each other's... pistils, petals (I'll remember the word one of these days). Then everything stopped with a combined gasp. The door had opened.
There stood the green-haired maid with a look of surprise clearly written on her face. She closed the door with haste and locked it. She then berated her colleagues for their inappropriateness. The two answered with naughty grins and mentions of excitement of the danger of being found out. I didn't really understand what that meant but it did result with the third maid rolling her eyes.
I thought the session had ended with the introduction of a third party. I was quite aware of demons' and humans' penchance for privacy during mating. I was slightly disappointed... okay, I was very disappointed. I had been thoroughly enjoying myself.
If I had eyes, they would have bulged out of their sockets as the green-haired maid started unbuttoning her top and exposing those dirty nipples. She walked over to me and took off her panties. She didn't wait to take the rest of her clothing off, she merely placed her right leg onto me exposing her... pussy (that's it, that's the word I was looking for) to the brunette and the 'cleansing' restarted.
At last, I had understood my real purpose!