Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you feel rape in the real world is a good thing, bend over in a prison and whistle dixie. While I'm disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other bigotry of any kind are also really fucking stupid. I don't own Left 4 Dead 2, or any of the characters and make no profit from this story. Please the damn story codes. Flashfic written in reply to prompt, 'Witch'

Description: Rochelle startles a horny Witch

Content Codes: FF, nc-cons, pwp, inter, oral

Left 4 Dead 2: The Witch's Lust
by JD ([email protected])

In Rochelle's defence, she hadn't meant to startle the Witch. The weird acoustics in the store had her thinking the Witch was sobbing over the other side of the room. She didn't even have time to swear. The glowing-eyed infected charged the pistols-packing survivor and caught her around the waist. Quicker than any of the survivors could react, Rochelle was falling over the barrier in the Witch's arms, through thick smoke, into a pile of mattresses that had quite failed in their intended use as a barricade. Rochelle's sudden scream ended as the air was knocked from her lungs.

Up above Rochelle's new friends knew they had to get down and save her, but the sudden arrival of a Tank meant they had other problems before they could fight their way down. Nick thought Rochelle had to be dead - even Ro thought she had no chance of survival against the ferocity of an angry Witch. Rochelle could feet the Witch's feverishly hot body against her own as she opened her brown eyes and stared into the featureless glowing orbs of the growling Witch. She was sure her pistols had fallen just out of reach.

As Rochelle made eye contact the Witch emitted a high-pitched screech and slashed her long clawed hands wildly down at Rochelle's body. Faster than the terrified survivor could see the claws shredded her Depeche Mode T-shirt and lacy bra... but didn't leave a scratch on her creamy brown skin. Rochelle's mouth was dry. She felt the hot air of the Mall across her bared nipples in the moment before the Witch dropped her mouth down and took Rochelle's left teat into her mouth.

'Jesus Christ! What the shit?' thought Rochelle.

This Witch was horny, not hungry! She used her insanely sharp-clawed hand with the utmost gentleness on Rochelle's other breast as she licked and nibbled without breaking skin. Rochelle couldn't take her eyes off the straggly blonde hair hanging from the deathly pale Witch's head, nor the eerie glow of her eyes. Rochelle heard a rather more aggressive growl as one of the horde climbed onto the mattress pile; without even looking the Witch slashed out sideways and the infected man fell.

Rochelle's fear was reduced somewhat by her pleasure. The heat of the Witch's mouth and the lusty enthusiasm she applied to her work soon had Rochelle a little wet down below. Rochelle had to fight the urge to move her hands up and huge the Witch, just in case the additional movement provoked hostility. Distant gunfire told Rochelle that the other survivors were fighting their way back down to the ground level of the Mall. If the Witch didn't turn violent she could live until they arrived.

Moving slowly down Rochelle's stomach with a long, slimy, lick of her hot tongue, the Witch turned her claws to Rochelle's figure hugging jeans and panties. In a blur of slashes Rochelle was rendered naked save for her shoes and gold hoop earrings. The shredded rags settled back upon the mattress as the Witch pressed her face down between Rochelle's thighs.

'Oh Jesus! I hope she doesn't finger-bang me,' thought Rochelle, but the Witch moved her pale blood coated hands back up to fondle Rochelle's breasts. The warm, soft, palms were a world apart from the deadly fingers, and Rochelle again had to fight the desire to bring her own hands in. Her fingers clenched and unclenched against the mattress as the Witch's tongue pushed into her wiry bush.

There seemed little safe about the sex Rochelle was reluctantly engaged in with the Witch, but at least the virus wasn't a problem. Her reluctance melted away under the hot, long, tongue of the Witch. Rochelle thought she had known pleasure before, but nothing could match the combination of deep tongue licking and tender breast fondling from the Witch. Rochelle couldn't stop moaning her appreciation, though the noise risked drawing more infected,

"Sweet Lincoln's Mullet," she gasped, "More! Please, God, more! It's so fucking good!"

Whether the Witch could understand human speech anymore or not, she seemingly had no intention of letting up. She had already got Rochelle's pussy running freely with juices, and she eagerly lapped up all she could. Rochelle's bush proved no barrier to almost incidental licks and flicks around her clit as the Witch pressed her long tongue deep into the pink folds of the African-American girl's aching snatch.

More infected mounted the mattress around them; once again the Witch's deadly claws dealt with the mindless horde before returning wetly to Rochelle's shaking and sweaty mounds. Rochelle soon forgot the risks and clutched the Witch's head in her hands. She tried to hump her crotch upwards into the Witch's mouth. After all the terror and running, she could feel a moment of great release building deep inside her body. The Witch had weaved a spell of pleasure over her, and she knew she was going to pop soon.

"Yes! Yes!" Rochelle's cries were growing loud, but no common infected could harm her so long as the Witch had her.

Rochelle was starting to see stars as the Witch brought her to a soul-shattering climax. Her scream of pure pleasure was enough to draw every infected within hearing towards their location, but by then the other three survivors were on the same floor. They missed the sound of Rochelle cumming hard and wetly into the Witch's face. As Rochelle sprayed her pleasure against the Witch, the infected woman leaped to her feet.

Rochelle managed to raise her shaking head in time to see the Witch cover her face with clawed hands and run away sobbing, bowling aside approaching infected. Rochelle couldn't begin to explain what had just happened to her, but at least her pistols had fallen close. Naked and shaking, she managed to finish off the approaching infected before turning to the nearest clothes rack. Close gunfire showed help was coming, and she didn't want to greet the others naked and sweaty.

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