"What is this...Thanksgiving?" Cordelia's face wrinkled and crimson orbs narrowed into speculative slits. Of all people, I was astounded by Cordelia's ignorance to the fall holiday; with the promise of copious treats and all. Then again, she had only been a respectable member of our dimension for a few years.
I flicked a few dials before leaning against the stove and tossing am oily rag over my shoulder, "Are you serious, Delia? You've never heard of Thanksgiving? The holiday where everyone stuffs their face?"
Cordelia's ears twitched and she shrugged in an innocent fashion. "Surely you do not think that I am jesting? To Recognize the customs of an inferior people—even if we inhabit their world—would be social opprobrium amongst my people; it's simply the way of things."
This could be fun. "Well, we cook a bird." I nodded to the turkey, already stuffed and basted in the oven; Cordelia's nose wrinkled at the sight.
"A pheasant? That is the central dish of this holiday? You cook that meager fowl with such relish, as if I haven't dined on the flesh of wyrm. This is what you have to offer?" Cordelia turned on her heels, glaring back at me through her long lashes as she headed toward the bedroom, "next you'll tell me that you boil roots and mash them, or perhaps that you salt wheat paste and mix it with curdled milk?" I almost let her walk away, eyeing the slight tilt of her hips with every step, how the oversized t-shirt she'd borrowed from me clung to her figure like a second skin...
Instead, I sighed and feigned embarrassment, "You're right, you're right. I suppose you Dark Elf's have a much more refined palate than we lowly surface dwellers. I may as well throw out the pumpkin pie I cooked earlier."
"P-P-Pi-Pie?" Cordelia echoed faintly, pausing before turning around to face me, the tip of her tail twitching behind her.
I lifted an eyebrow in mock surprise. "I did say 'pumpkin' didn't I? I shouldn't confuse it with the pecan pie, or the cherry." There was no science to eroding Cordelia's freewill. No profane ritual of seduction or sophisticated courting. Despite her inborn self-righteousness, the power of sugar was more potent than any spell or sorcery from her native realm; I could see the sapience being drained from her glazed, ruby eyes. "Oh human, I--I was being rash. This, 'Thanksgiving', sounds like a splendid celebration." She swayed slightly at the promise of caramelized fruits, of the syrupy dripping sweetness; Cordelia knew the rules. "What do you require, in exchange?"
"We have some time before the turkey needs to come out of the oven, and I don't feel like torturing you 'too' much. How about you sit on my face and we call it even?"
Cordelia blinked, but her cheeks darkened to a scarlet hue. It was an honest miracle that I hadn't yet asked for the dump-truck rumped Dark Elf to besiege my face with her battering ram of a booty.
Coredelia gave a speculative glare as she redid her platinum mane into a sloppy bun, "I sit on your face, yes, and all the pies you have prepared are mine? Every morsel?"
"Every morsel?" It was impossible not to laugh, "Thanksgiving is about giving--sharing. I don't think..."
She twirled, as graceful as any Dark Elf femme fatale, and did her own bit of teasing. Delicate fingers tugged at the baggy fabric that curtained her rear, pulling it aside to flash an ass so perfect that it boggled the human mind. While sweets may have been the weakness of the Dark Elf, ass was the bane of man; my resolve melted like steel turned slag.
I croaked, "You can have it all."
***
The act of dominating came naturally to Cordelia, and I could sense that the perpetually sugar-addled beauty found some comfort in finally seizing a bit of control in our often one-sided relationship. She took her role as mistress so seriously; it was refreshingly liberating for me to indulge in something that was pleasant, rather than laced with humiliation or guilt. The tension that had tightened my shoulders eased beneath the soft warmth of her dark form.
"Are you ready to commence with the 'face-sitting', human?" Coaxed Cordelia, wiggling her nude sex mere inches from my lolling tongue.