How angry is the captain when you’re finally unceremoniously dumped back in his cabin?
Coldly furious. Turn to Option 22 (below).
Blazingly angry. Turn to Option 23.
Option 22
The hard look on Severin’s face when you are brought before him terrifies you. “So, my little tigress,” he murmurs, idly flicking his finger against your cheek, “My company is so onerous, is it? My treatment of you too brutal to be borne? Very well, then. Far be it for me to stint on hospitality. I think you should have a taste of the rest of the crew’s charms and see how they compare to mine. That was the reward I promised them for bringing you back, after all, and I am a man of my word.”
He is impervious to your pleas for mercy and your sobbed apologies as his men drag you off. He’s right: they are infinitely more cruel with you than he was, but the complete lack of pleasure is a relief, in a strange way; at least your flesh is no longer a traitor to your spirit. When you are returned to Severin’s cabin, limp as a rag doll, you find that you are finally broken. You do not fight him as you used to, but you do not respond to pleasure, either. Severin seems displeased and disappointed at your detached docility, and that gives you a hollow sort of satisfaction.
After a few months, the ship docks at Tortuga, and Severin hands you over to the madam of a bawdy house for a modest sum of money. While the existence isn’t exactly happy, you discover the blissful numbness laudanum can provide you, and spend the rest of your life in an opiated haze.
Option 23
You have never before seen Severin so furious. “I’ve seen some acts of stupidity in my time,” he says scathingly. “You have to understand, being a crewmember on a pirate ship is not exactly the most intellectually taxing occupation in the world. But you…you could win a blue ribbon at the village idiot parade. What were you going to do, dear heart? Subsist on moonbeams and dew? Gnaw your way through a coconut? Hunt down a wild boar with your bare hands and tear it apart with your teeth? The wild boar is much more likely to kill and eat this particular tigress than the other way around, believe you me.”
The lines on his face tighten, and he grasps your shoulders, his grip bruising you. “I was worried sick about what could’ve befallen you, you stupid bitch. A million fates flashed through my mind, each one worse than the last, and I was helpless to stop any of them. You think you know how the world works, but let me assure you, my pet, you have no idea—none!—about the predators you will encounter out there, most of them with bigger, sharper teeth than I.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, exhausted and dazed.
“Sorry? Sorry? You haven’t even begun to be sorry,” he bites out before he crashes his lips against yours, ruthlessly plundering its tender treasures.
That night, he makes love to you with astonishing intensity, showing you that what you thought was pleasure was but a pale imitation of what you are capable of feeling. As you start crying from the surfeit of sensation, Severin gentles and buries his face against your hair, stroking away your tears. “Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Don’t cry, my tigress. I’m not sure my heart can stand it. Don’t cry.”
That night, the two of you sleep the sleep of exhausted children, with your head tucked securely against the beating of his heart.
Your slumber is interrupted, however, by the hammering on the door the next morning. A Royal Navy ship has been spotted, it seems, and is now pursuing them.
Severin leaps out of bed and begins throwing on clothing. You sit up, holding the sheet to your chest, trepidation making your eyes wide and dark. Before he goes, Severin leans down and kisses you lingeringly on the lips. You cling to him with uncharacteristic tenderness.
“Be careful?” you whisper against his lips as you part.
“Of course, my tigress. Prior to this, I had nothing to fear—but now, I have everything to lose.”
Your heart swells at his words, and after he leaves, you put on your clothing. You sit and wait for the booming of cannon fire and the sounds of fighting to begin.
But nothing happens. No shock of impact, no frantic scrambling around the deck as the crew man battle stations. Your curiosity finally gets the better of you. You push on the door to the cabin, and to your surprise, it swings open. As you creep along, you see nobody; the ship is eerily deserted at this level, though you can hear the men bustling on the deck. As you pass a door, you hear voices coming from a large room—one of them the distinctive rasp belonging to Severin.
Unbearably curious but also terrified of being caught, you press your ear against the door.
“That was a job well done,” says an unfamiliar voice. “We’ve been trying to track down that confounded traitor for an age, and by Jove, you finally delivered the goods.”
“Glad to be of service to His Majesty, sir,” says Severin.
“Well, are you retiring after this, Severin? Been playing pirate a dashed long time; time to put down roots, don’t you think, with the tidy fee the Service is going to give you for this? Or at least come back to civilization, where the floor won’t rock in this abominable fashion unless a man’s in his cups.”
“I believe so.” There was a short pause. “There is a woman, sir. Waiting for me in the only home I’ve ever known. When we arrive…”
You don’t catch the rest. You back away slowly, thinking of the sweetheart Severin has left at home, of the lies he has fed you. You’ve never realized “heartbreak” could be so literal a description. You flee back to the cabin, sobbing quietly all the while, and fling yourself onto the bunk. You ponder another escape attempt, but he has shown you how futile it is; he will always be one step ahead of you.
When the cabin door opens, you look up, eyes still streaming. He immediately rushes to the bed and embraces you. You wish you were strong enough to push him away; instead, you lean into him and burst into sobs yet again.
“Why are you crying, my sweet?”
You push yourself off him and give him a fulminating glare. “Why am I crying? Why, you…you toad-pated knave, it’s because you have been in love all this time with another woman, and now that your mission is done, you’re going back, and you’re going to marry her, and forget all about me, and…and…” It is too much for you; all you can do is break into incoherent sobs.
“Another woman?” Severin sounds genuinely puzzled. “My mission? How on earth…?” He arrests himself, and then starts chuckling.
His laughter is salt on a fresh wound. You start hitting him on the chest. “Pig…you are a pig…a stinking, horrible, rutting barnyard animal. How could you, oh how could you, I was fool enough to think you loved me, and I was even more of a fool to allow myself to love you back.”
His laughter dies down, and he catches your fist. “Will it help your wounded sensibilities if I tell you that this very cabin is the only true home I’ve ever had?”
You stop struggling and blink rather owlishly at him as realization dawns on you. “Oh,” you say in a small voice.
“Oh, indeed. So, the tigress fancies herself in love with me, eh?” he says, a roguish smile quirking the lush curve of his lips.
You attempt to push him off, but you might as well have engaged in a shoving match with an oak tree. “Certainly not. Admitting such foolishness would only make you insufferable.”
“Insufferable for love of you,” he says, kissing you on the forehead. “What do you say, my tigress? Will you have me? I don’t have much yet, but I have a little land in Shropshire, and His Majesty has paid me a pretty penny for my work. Are you willing to be the wife of a former pirate?”
“You fool,” you say. “What other possible answer do you think there could be? Yes! Yes! And again, yes!”
As he leans down and drowns your senses with fiery kisses, you can’t help but think that though he may have imprisoned you at first with his desire, he is now a true…Captive of Your Heart.
Option 24
Your body still hurts from the battle yesterday, but you have no choice: you have a task to
do, and you have to finish it today. Vampires and a few other Otherworld citizens are being ritually tortured and mutilated in your city, and the Vampire King has hired you to solve the mystery; as the city’s best part vampire/part werewolf warrior-psychic, your skills are constantly in demand.
You hop on your motorcycle and make your way to the Vampire King’s compound. When you finally reach His Undead Majesty’s inner sanctum, you’re surprised to see he’s not alone. A representative from each of the five Otherworld factions is there, arranged around the throne; when you enter, all their eyes snap to your face. The crackle of energy almost knocks you on your ass. There’s excitement, anticipation, fear, and something else…something you’re having difficulty identifying.
You bow your head to the motley assembly, the only symbol of submission you’ve ever been willing to show anyone, man, beast, or man-beast.
“Ma belle, finally you are here,” says the Vampire King from his throne, his French accent lending his voice a seductive lilt. Not that he needs that extra boost; his stern, austere beauty has literally driven people mad with despair and passion in the past, most famously Michelangelo—or so the rumor went, anyway. You yourself have never been immune to his charms, but you’ve made sure to keep your shields up tightly whenever you’re in his presence, because he would have exploited this weakness ruthlessly. “We have important news, and a rather interesting…development.”
The Vampire King steeples his fingers and leans back. “It appears that the people behind the murders are human occultists who have discovered a portal to a completely new realm, one rumored to be filled with creatures who are powerful beyond imagining. We successfully took care of these humans last night; unfortunately, this was not before they created a weak spot in the portal using the blood and organs they had harvested. The things at the other side have been trying to break through. We, on the other hand, are very much interested in ensuring that the portal stays intact.”
Oh, God. This was going to be messy. You don’t betray any of your thoughts, however.
“This is, of course, where you…come in,” says the Vampire King.
The hesitation in his voice raises the hairs on the back of your neck. “I will be happy to provide my services to the best of my abilities, Your Majesty,” you reply.
An enigmatic smiles quirks the elegant curves of his mouth. “To be sure. We’ve discovered that the only way to seal the portal is by putting in a team effort—in a manner of speaking. You see, the portal can only be sealed if the five Otherworld nations set aside our differences and come in the body of a psychic warrior who belongs to at least two other Otherworld nations. The combined energies can then be focused and used to seal the portal shut forever.”
You look at him in confusion at first. “What do you mean, come in…Oh. Shit.”
You are now able to identify that energy you had felt when you first entered. It was the sexual arousal emanating from five of the most powerful Otherworld entities in the known worlds. You are, quite literally, screwed. Or soon will be.
“You’re joking,” you say, voice calm, even though inside you’re shaking. “You can’t seriously—”
“Oh, but I am not joking, ma puce. It would be gauche to jest about something so serious. We are going to do this, whether or not you allow us to. You are the only person alive who meets all the requirements, and I can assure you, allowing the portal to open will be even more unpleasant than our attentions. You can make it easy for yourself—and we will give you no small amount of pleasure in the process—or you can resist, and be hurt.”
Part of you feels furious at the ultimatum, but, much as you hate to admit it, part of you is also somewhat intrigued. You imagine making love to the Vampire King himself, and part of you goes liquid and shudders in ecstasy at the thought.
Your voice tight with anger and other emotions you have difficulty explicating at the moment, you say, “Fine. I’ll do it.”
The Vampire King smiles, turning to the assembly. “Excellent, ma chère. I am glad you saw it our way. Now, please do strip yourself of all your clothing and pick your first consort.”
After you shuck off your clothing, do you:
Fuck the head of the Werewolf clans? Turn to Option 25.
Fuck the chief of the Chupacabras? Turn to Option 26.
Fuck the leader of the Tanuki? Turn to Option 27.
Fuck the tentacled Elder God? Turn to Option 28.
Fuck the Vampire King? Turn to Option 29.
Option 25
You step over to Evgeny, the head of the Werewolf clans. He is a magnificent specimen, with a beautifully shaped head, a deep chest, and long, muscular limbs. He’s still in human form, but you hear that some werewolves involuntarily change at the moment of orgasm, regardless of the state of their Moon Cycle. You’ve never done it yourself, but then, you’re only part werewolf. You are both excited and repulsed at the idea; you’ve never had sex after you’ve changed.
“Come, pretty halfling,” he growls. He opens his arms, and you step into a very strong, very warm embrace. He starts nuzzling your neck; your nerve endings leap with pleasure, and you moan as he reaches your nipples and begins playing with them, pinching and pulling lightly. Warm liquid pools between your legs.
You can feel the many sets of eyes watching, and it adds an extra edge to the pleasure. You feel but do not see the tips of his fingers sharpen into claws. The change moves upon him from the outside in, the extremities of his body beginning to shift before the center. Where before there had been warm skin, now there was the strangely luxurious sense of fur behind you, and, as his arms pull you closer to him, around you as well.
Suddenly he turns you around so you no longer face him, and your heart seizes a moment with a cold pulse of fear as you catch a glimpse of him as he transforms from a large, powerful man into an even larger, more powerful werewolf. A clawed hand covered with thick dark brown fur pushes your shoulders down as he forces your knees to bend and you find yourself in a truly submissive position, your hands and knees against the cold floor while your backside and thighs are pressed against a shockingly hot, solid wall of hairy, hungry man.
He thrusts himself within you, seating his massive length deep within you to the hilt. You scream as he howls behind you, and as he moves, you realize: he’s not done changing. With each thrust he grows larger and fills you to the point where you can’t possibly take more, but still he pumps in and out of your heaving body, his claws holding fast to your hips. The last part of him to shift to werewolf form is his cock, which continues to throb and engorge, until it matches the mammoth size of the werewolf who wields it.
With one last deep thrust, he pushes you over the edge into a searing orgasm, your body stretched to its limits with his unholy size. Evgeny follows you into orgasm, and the force of the pulsing jets of his pleasure nearly dislodge you.
With boneless abandon, both of you slide to the floor, his warmth and soft fur covering you as the soft breeze chills the perspiration from your glistening skin. Your rest is momentary, as Evgeny forces himself to slide from your warmth. Realizing what comes next, you force yourself to stand up. You will not meet your fate on your knees.
Do you now:
Fuck the chief of the Chupacabras? Turn to Option 26 (below).
Fuck the leader of the Tanuki? Turn to Option 27.
Fuck the tentacled Elder God? Turn to Option 28.
Fuck the Vampire King? Turn to Option 29.
Have you fucked everybody? Turn to Option 30.
Option 26
Xanti, the chief of the Chupacabras approaches you, and you take a moment to study his form.
His arms are muscular, green, with darker green and opalescent blue spots hugging the contours of each hardened curve. His eyes are large, also green, and set deep within his smooth, hairless head. His spines lie back against his skin, trembling slightly with each beat of his eight-chambered heart, a heart you can see beginning to speed through the translucent skin of his chest.
/> “Chupacabras do not ride their women like cattle,” Xanti rasps, his forked tongue giving his words a sinister, sensual lisp.
“They don’t?” You are confused and apprehensive, but curious.
“No. We suck the blood from our nourishment, and suck the pleasure from our women.” Xanti allows that long, split tongue to caress his lips in a teasing invitation, and you cannot deny that the muscles of your thighs tighten momentarily at the sight.
“How do you come?” Forming words is becoming a challenge. Your arousal must be palpable to everyone in the room who still watches every move of your body, every shiver of your skin.
“Through our spines.”
“Oh.” A cold grip seizes your arms—but it’s not apprehension. It’s Xanti. His skin is ice cold, and throbbing. Your eyes meet his large golden gaze. Then his tongue begins to slide out of his mouth, longer, and longer, the forked tip teasing your nipples as you begin to gasp with pleasure. He wraps his tongue around them, squeezing like a python against its prey, dragging sounds of encouragement from your throat.
His spines, which had moments ago lain against the length of his body, are now, each and every one, erect, throbbing with swirls of onyx and cobalt, his unique blood filling them all to a state of complete erection. You feel his claws grip your hips, and your body lifts into the air.
His tongue, oh, God, his tongue. It moves within you, around you, until you cannot tell what it’s doing, except that it’s draining all sensation from your body to reside solely in your dripping, writhing core. The forked ends pinch and twist around your clit, slapping against it, then soothing the sting with long, sliding strokes.
When you cannot take one more moment of the teasing tongue bath, Xanti affixes his mouth against you and begins to suck, pulling the skin of your drenched pussy into contact with the multiple rows of his sharp, razorlike teeth. The orgasm Xanti has built with his tongue and teeth is being sucked out of your core by his powerful jaws, the same jaws that drain sheep of their blood in an instant.
Beyond Heaving Bosoms Page 24
