Hunger of the Eldritch Fiend

by Amanda Clover

  Her every muscle seemed to tighten at once. Her lashes fluttered, her cry rising in a song of ecstasy as she came beneath him. Janus grunted, burying himself within her, his groan escaping him as he buried his cock deep inside her, and came.

  His cum pumped into her, hot and thick, filling her in a way she had forgotten existed. Another surge of sweet pleasure raced through her as she came, and she cried out, her second orgasm on the heels of the first. Her cheeks burned with pleasure and embarrassment at how quickly she had cum around him. Panting, she sagged beneath Janus, staring up at him as her full breasts heaved.

  Janus loomed above her, sweat beading his brow, but his expression was warm and flush. “Well?” he gasped, smiling down at her. “Was it… everything you imagined?”

  Damera laughed breathlessly. “Oh, so much and more,” she gasped, stroking his cheek.

  Janus chuckled with her. “Good. Then, ready for another round, my dear?”

  “Gods yes,” Damera breathed.

  Janus grinned and kissed her again. Damera moaned, clinging to him, stroking his chest as her breasts rubbed against him. Though she knew it would end, this night, this peace, she wanted to hold onto it. Cling to the moment as best she could. As long as she could. For when it was over, she knew Janus would leave, and the world outside the tent would still be waiting. A world of pain and suffering and terror unrelenting.

  But as the lamps burned low, only the pants and gasps of pleasure filled the shelter of the tent, and Damera embraced a peace she knew would not last.

  Conquest

  The fires danced and licked at thatch roofs and walls. An inferno of heat beating back the night, but the horrors which lurked within it were not balked. They strode through the light, their barks and howls mingling with the screams of men and woman as they sought to flee.

  Little hope of that.

  Once, her name had been Julyana. Once, she had been a noble, a bride, a girl of merry happiness and life. She had family. She had been loved.

  She’d given up that name, along with all the rest. Now, she was known as the Red Witch, her name spoken of in fear.

  She stood, naked, proud, her bare feet blackened by ash as she watched the town burn indifferently. When she moved she seemed to prowl, a primal beast, her naked breasts swaying on her chest, her hips swinging, power glowing about her like a crimson shroud, her hair sparking, licking at the air. Once she might have felt pity for the suffering of the people as monsters from nightmares dragged them from their homes, killing the men, claiming the woman, mounting them in the blood-soaked streets with howls of orgasmic joy and bloody triumph. But such feelings had been burned from her. Scourged by suffering and broken in madness.

  A dim flapping was heard moments before a weight perched itself on her shoulder. “Heya toots,” a reedy voice said.

  She glanced at the imp on her shoulder. A small, absurd little bowler had was rammed atop his head, his stunted horns poking through the brim. His tiny frame was outsized by his thick red cock, always hard, hanging between his legs suggestively.

  “Lugrin,” she said. “I thought you would be busy claiming some of these women.”

  “Ha!” the imp said, black magic twisting into a cigar he puffed at. “They’re fine and dandy, but nothing compared t’ your sweet cunt. You know you’re the only girl for me.”

  She rolled her eyes and brushed the stunted creature off her shoulder. She headed towards the manor of the former lord of the town, glancing about the sadistic orgy of the monsters and the women caught in their clutches. Fewer people than expected, she observed. Most had doubtless fled east towards Moskov and safety. A poor choice by her reckoning. There was no safety in the world but what one could find themselves, and she knew too well how cruel men could be to the weak.

  The manor was surrounded by a stone wall, the metal gate broken down. A pair of brutish orcs stood guard, their clothes scattered steel held together by leather straps. They grinned and moved towards her.

  “What slut doing without mate?” one asked.

  “Who cares. I claim first,” the other orc said.

  “Oh, this’s gonna be good!” Lugrin the imp cackled where he fluttered.

  The Red Witch wrinkled her nose in distaste at the pair. She gestured, red magic sparking like thorny whips. The spell struck the pair of orcs, hurling them back to crash against the walls so hard the stonework buckled under their bodies. They crumpled, and she stepped over their broken bodies, Lugrin laughing as he winged after her.

  The nobility had, of course, abandoned the estate long ago. But their servants, largely, were still present. Most were lovely young women chosen from the peasantry to serve their lord, but now they served a new master entirely.

  Near naked, their uniforms in tatters, the women of the estate were in the grasp of the greatest among the orcish warriors. The huge brutes thrust into mouth and cunt with bellows of lust, the pale, shapely bodies of their victims playthings of pleasure in their hands. Cries of mercy were turning to gasps of helpless pleasure and whimpers of waning resistance. Even before the spell craft of the Duke of Ashes, an orc was hard to resist for long. Brutal power of primal masculinity coupled with a cock that outsized a normal man’s with ease, once a woman grew accustomed to them, nothing else would compare. The Red Witch glanced among the torrid scene until she found the one she was looking for.

  Ghostheart sat on the steps of the manor, the orc’s face painted in the white facsimile of a skull, his tusks curved in a snarl as he thrust into the shuddering form of the young woman atop him. Her back was to him, her flush breasts in his rough hands, her beautiful face twisted in the terrible uncertainty of pleasure and fear.

  “Mnnnn! Ah. Ah! Nnn! F-fuuuuuck! Wh-why? Why does it… why is it sooo gooood!?” The girl wailed helplessly as her pussy submitted to the immense shaft of the orc, her slender frame pressed against the immensity of her monstrous mate. She moved and arched atop Ghostheart, her pale flesh contrasted against his gray-green hide.

  The Red Witch sneered at it all in contempt. The orcs in their savage conquest. The women in their surrender. They were born to be slaves, so many of them, never realizing it until now. She glanced about and found the one never far from Ghostheart. Once, the young woman had been like Julyana. The high-born daughter of an Istanov lord. Her father had once owned Ghostheart, among other orcs in his gladiator pits.

  But that had changed the day Ghostheart had broken the chains which bound him. And the girl, the daughter of his former master, had given herself to the powerful male willingly, submitting to his cock and enslaving herself to him without the need of magic or pain. She knew her place, and had embraced it.

  Once thin and slender, she had filled out, her breasts engorged with milk, her stomach swollen with the orc’s pups. Where fineries and silks once clad her, only savage paint daubed on her naked flesh marked her, declaring her servitude to her master. She sat on a step, watching her mate fuck the maid, her expression rapturous. Julyana would never comprehend the pleasure this woman felt watching her master tame another woman.

  “How much longer will he be?” The Red Witch demanded of the young slave.

  Mina turned towards her and smiled blissfully. “Not long, mistress,” the girl said softly, brushing back some of her beaded black hair. “The girl is nearly ready to be claimed.”

  “I’ll say!” Lugrin said. The imp had landed, his absurdly proportioned scarlet cock in his hand, pumping away as he watched the young maid rise and fall atop Ghostheart’s cock, her body trembling in the throes of submission.

  “Oh f-fuck. Fuck! Mmmnnnnnn!” The girl wailed with ecstasy, slamming down atop the orc’s cock, hilting him inside of her. Ghostheart roared, his balls tightening as he came inside of her.

  “Nooooooooo!” the girl screamed, a wail of despair morphing into a cry of sweetest submission. She shuddered as she came with the orc, his seed claiming her womb. As the Red Witch watched, crimson light burned above the girl’s mons, twisting into a cruel design in th
e tongue of demons. A sign resembling a staring eye.

  Ghostheart grunted, relaxing beneath the quivering young girl. Lazily he pushed her off his cock, the maid falling flat, quivering and shuddering in the aftershocks of her orgasm, the orc’s seed drooling from her conquered cunt.

  The Red Witch glanced at her, then stepped towards the orc. “Ghostheart. We need to talk.”

  The orc glanced at the Red Witch, his lip curling above his tusk. He eased back atop the steps, a barbarian king on a conquered throne. “What witch want?”

  She glowered. She disliked the brutish orc and the feeling was mutual. He saw her as a human needing to be claimed. She saw him as a savage interested only in conquest and brutal pleasure, but caring little for the finer points of the philosophy of the Duke of Ashes. She crossed her arms beneath her naked breasts, tapping a finger impatiently. “The empress has started to move. The Duke says he’s moving to meet her before she can retake either Tatarov or the Sallow Marsh.”

  Ghostheart scoffed. “What good? There nothing left in cities.” He beckoned and Mina rose, the heavily pregnant slave approaching her master and kneeling at his side. She leaned in, her tongue running up the orc’s massive cock, adoring his musky taste. Moments later, the maid that Ghostheart had claimed crawled once more to the orc, her eyes glowing in adoration for the brute who had enslaved her. Eagerly she joined her fellow slave in servicing the orc’s musky cock.

  For a moment, Julyana was entranced by the sight of the two comely slave girls lapping at Ghostheart’s heavy bollocks and cleaning his cock with their pink tongues. She felt a twinge of desire and locked eyes with Ghostheart. He was smiling, mocking her, and her gaze hardened.

  “There are still a few holdouts. The noble districts have managed to barricade themselves, and the Duke had to call a large number of monsters to his side to crush the emperor. They’re still together, and the empress is moving aggressively, sweeping the lands before her thoroughly.”

  “Then Duke wants us to join him?” Ghostheart grunted, shifting as Mina kneeled between her master’s thighs, bathing his cum splattered balls while the other slave continued to lavish his cock with adoration.

  The Red Witch scoffed. “We’d never get there in time. We’re far too deep in the north now. Besides, he has things well in hand.”

  “Then why bother me?” the orc grunted, glaring at her.

  “Because the Duke wants to keep you informed. Gods only know why,” she said. “It’s not like anything he does changes what you do.”

  Ghostheart scowled. The taciturn orc suddenly reached down and grabbed Mina. The human girl gasped in surprise as the orc tugged her into his lap, leaning down and capturing a tattooed nipple in his lips. Mina moaned, shuddering as she clutched the orc’s head, her breasts quaking as Ghostheart sucked at the sweet milk of her breasts.

  With his other hand, Ghostheart grabbed the head of his freshly minted slave and pushed her mouth further onto his cock. The girl moaned, kneeling between the orc’s muscular legs, her soft lips engulfing the orc’s inhuman cock, her head bobbing, her tits mashed about the root of Ghostheart’s bitch-breaker.

  The Red Witch glared, feeling that familiar pang of lust despite herself. She stiffened as she felt something press against her leg, and glanced down to see Lugrin leaning against her, the imp grinning slyly up at her, his hand stroking his cock.

  “Looks like you could use a little relief yourself,” the imp said with a lewd wiggle of his brows.

  The Red Witch rolled her eyes and kicked the imp away. Lugrin yelped as he rebounded to his feet. “Amuse yourself with Ghostheart’s new slut,” she said.

  “What? Orcish sloppy seconds? You know they just ruin a slut’s pussy,” the imp whined. “Besides,” he said, leering as the smoke of the cigar oozed out fetid smoke in the shape of hearts, “you know your cunt is the best for me. Remember the time I made your tits all milky like hers? Oh those wonderful memories we share.”

  The Red Witch glared down at the imp, but did feel a hint of a flush at the reminder. She hadn’t had a chance to truly amuse herself since she abandoned the emperor’s concubine. What had her name been again? She shrugged it off, but couldn’t forget the hint of warmth burning through her cunt.

  “Not now,” she said, turning sharply and showing the imp her luscious bottom. “I have things to do.”

  “Yeah yeah. Business before pleasure,” the imp complained as he fluttered after her. “You know? Worry will make you age faster.”

  “Shut up.”

  Trapped

  “And the scouts have reported a number of monsters slain. They brought back the heads as proof, but it appears the word is out. I believe they’ve begun to pull back.”

  Damera nodded as she brooded over the large map in the middle of the room. “Good. Anything else?”

  Her generals shook their heads one by one. They had gathered in the keep of Kironovo, the lord of the city more than happy to host the army of the empress. Damera rather suspected it was due to the size of the army she’d brought, and that he hoped to earn some points with the future leader of the empire. He knew where the winds were blowing, and that if the empress succeeded, it would be wise to be in her good graces.

  The lord of Kironovo’s only other option was to try to reach a deal with the Duke of Ashes. There were stories of the few cities that had thought to negotiate with the Duke. Their promised safety lasted only until the gates sprang open, and what came after had been repeated all across the empire. This brutality made siding with the empress an infinitely preferable option.

  “Are you… sure you should march forth, my lady?”

  Damera glanced up. Baron Ordriga of Kironovo stood hesitantly near the corner. He was a pudgy man. Soft, though recent years had lent his face a bit more of a hollow sag. Once, Kironovo had been deep in the empire’s territory, growing rich on trade and fortune. The only issue to the baron’s rule over the area had been the odd bandit attack or disgruntled township. This easy life had left the baron unprepared for true menace in his realms.

  But that was uncharitable of her, she well knew, sighing to herself. Who could have anticipated the invasion of the Duke? “Yes. My brother, idiot that he was, had the right idea. The only way to defeat the monster horde now is to strike a heavy blow against them. Had I still the troops, I would have engaged in a more protracted campaign, but that is unavoidable now.”

  “Then why do you think you will succeed where your brother failed?”

  The assembled generals looked up and to the speaker. Ser Raymond stood alone, looking at her levelly, his arms crossed over his armored chest. Mutterings spread through the Istanov commanders. Though they could hardly object to the troops brought, there was no love lost between them and a knight of their ancestral enemies.

  Damera inclined her head towards him. “For the same reason my brother failed. I will not seek them in battle. I will offer them a target. Our army is the last thing that stands between the monstrous ranks and them washing over what’s left of the empire like a black tide. My brother failed to act when they were still a minor threat. Yet now, they have an army, and we must conquer it.”

  “And how do you propose that?”

  “I have already begun,” Damera said. “We’ve swept the region around Kironovo of monsters using scouts and troops, supported by red mages.” She nodded at the silent, red robed figure in the corner. He inclined his hooded head in answer, the sockets of his carved mask empty voids. “Not a monster who pursued my brother remains. I will set forth from Kironovo with the same plan, eliminating any monsters we come across as we slowly advance, purging our kingdom of their dark kin. The Duke of Ashes will have to confront the army, lest his creatures be put to the sword one at a time.”

  Ser Raymond nodded slowly. “That may work…”

  “But my empress,” Ordriga put in quickly. “Surely the defensibility of Kironovo would serve you better? And ah… I have no doubt that as one of the… of the remaining cities not under the monster�
��s heel in the empire, then surely we will be a prime target…”

  Damera glanced at the man. He quailed but held his ground, hopeful, and Damera couldn’t help but respect the pudgy lord a little. Though he didn’t appreciate the full scope of the problems faced, he was eager to protect his people. Many nobles had already fled the city, making for Moskov or, occasionally, for Heimsvak if they had ties to their neighboring realm. She did not have time to consider how that powerful nation might deal with the refugees at its borders.

  “I appreciate your efforts, Baron. But the fact remains that we cannot shelter in this city. I am not my brother to cower behind walls as the rest of the empire is plundered by this Duke of Ashes. Every day he is not faced we grow weaker, and he stronger. Eventually, he would encircle us here and lay siege and we would surely fall. Our efforts shall buy you some time, my lord, and space to plan. I suggest you speak to the Red Mages for matters to keeping your city safe.”

  Ordigra deflated, which was something impressive to see given his bulk, but nodded. “Then… I will begin preparations for your departure, my empress.” The man bowed, the golden amulet that proclaimed him baron swaying before he turned and departed the war room.

  The rest of her commanders followed suit soon after, leaving Damera alone in the tower. She sighed, straightening and cracking her neck. Gods she was exhausted.

  “Mistress?”

  Damera glanced towards the door. Her handmaiden, Listra, poked her head inside. “Mistress?” Are they gone?”

  “They are. Come in. There’s no need to fear them, Listra. They are my allies.”

  The handmaiden pushed inside, her gown fluttering about her as she peeked around the corner. “It’s not them, my lady. I’ll hardly refuse the company of handsome men,” she said with a giggle, only to sober a moment later. “It’s those… mages. They frighten me.”