Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  CONTINUE >

  Surrender

  You came embarked on this adventure knowing you would have to fight monsters. These four men may be hideously ugly, but they are not monsters. You do not have it in your heart to kill them.

  “I yield,” you say, raising your hands from your waist. “I do not want to fight humans.”

  “Smart thinkin’,” croaks the old men.

  The four of them surround you with their stink and the press of their unhealthy, unwashed bodies. The bartender wields an old, rusty fishing spear and pokes the sharp tip at your throat menacingly. The other men, chuckling and grunting, begin to remove your weapons. They set them gingerly aside and their hands continue to squeeze you, stroke you, and undress you. Your skirt drops down your legs. Your panties are stripped off from your pale, jiggling buttocks. One of the men groans with lust and presses his face between your thighs. He begins sniffing loudly at your quim.

  “Stop that, please,” you cry, your face going red with shame.

  “Quiet,” says the bartender. “We’re not gonna hurt you. Just get you ready to go see the goat.”

  They roughly strip off your jacket and your blouse. The sling holding your breasts is nearly torn as they pull it off and free your creamy mounds and your fear-stiffened nipples. Their grimy hands squeeze your pale tits. The toothless old man leans down and sucks one of your nipples, leaving drool dripping down your mound. His lips pop with suction and he moves to your other nipple, sucking even harder and making you stifle a cry of pleasure.

  The bartender shifts so he is only holding the spear with one hand. He pushes his hand between your thighs and probes your pussy with his long, crooked fingers. You gasp as he fucks two fingers in and out of your tight channel.

  “Hot and wet,” he declares, sliding his fingers back out and sniffing them before he licks them clean. “Sweet too!”

  The man who was sniffing at your quim is now standing behind you. He grunts suddenly and you feel a hot splash on your bottom. You look back and see he is wanking a hideously long, slender, red cock with furry bollocks beneath it. Spurts of his foul spunk land against your buttocks and drip down the backs of your thighs.

  “Enough of that!” Snarls the old man, pushing him away. “The goat will smell your seed and punish us all. Get a rag and clean her off!”

  You whimper as the man returns and carefully mops off your cum-showered hindquarters with a grimy rag. He finishes by giving your bottom a loud, wet kiss that makes you cry out with shock.

  “We take her now,” says the bartender. “Before we get into trouble.”

  The men grumble with disappointment, but there is general agreement. You see the lust in their bloodshot goat eyes. They must truly fear this goat that rules over them if they were able to hold their desires in check. Well, three of them were.

  They gather up your belongings and you are marched at harpoon-point down the village's muddy street. You see a few more pale faces peering out of broken windows and from behind fences and piles of debris. A few more men, just as ugly as the others, wander out into the street to join the shuffling procession. There seem to be no women in this town.

  Your face burns with shame as you stumble ahead of them, walking out of the village and along the path into the ominous forest on the next hill. The trees close in around the path, branches forming an archway so tight that it seems as if you are in a tunnel. The path emerges into a dark, silent clearing and you stand before a huge wooden temple made from mossy black wood. Your heart beats faster at the sight of this magnificent and yet decrepit structure. You can feel a great evil emanating from its lightless windows.

  “This is where the goat resides,” says the old man, leaning over your shoulder. “We can’t go in with you. He don’t let men see the brides.”

  They stand at the base of the stairs leading up to the huge double doors. As you approach, the doors swing slowly open, and a menacing darkness yawns open. An unpleasant bestial scent reaches your nostrils.

  You step into the temple. One of the men from the bar looks away as he reaches your belongs into the doorway. They are taken from his hands by a stark naked woman glistening with sweat. Her pendulous breasts, thick nipples, and plump belly speak to her motherhood. She turns ahead of you and you see a strange symbol glowing faintly on her left buttock near her hip.

  You take a step into the darkness behind her and you feel the evil beginning to seep into your mind. The doors thump closed behind you and the darkness swallows you up. You struggle to see the woman carrying your belongings. That evil force pulls you behind her, deeper into the darkness, like a leash around your mind. You enter the temple’s great hall, towering beneath the temple’s collapsing, arched roof. Light streams through the holes in the roof, illuminating the rank chamber with shafts of golden light.

  The goat sits atop a crude wooden throne draped in velvet and decorated with antlers and human bones. Your family’s codex contains references to “goat men” and “beast men” who seem to be animal-human hybrids. This goat is similar, but much larger than any you have ever read about. Even seated, you can tell he must be at least twice your height. His body is muscular and covered in gray and black fur. His face resembles a goat’s, but with a shorter snout, and a strange golden crown is perched atop his head. He possesses human-like arms and hands, while his legs are furry and end in huge cloven hooves.

  Between his legs is an enormous pink cock as long as your arm from your shoulder to your fingertips. It is comparatively slender and droops flaccidly over the seat of the chair so that the tip is aimed at the floor and dripping bestial gleet that stains the velvet covering the throne. You feel a sudden urge to lick the dripping fluid, like the temple wine at a purification festival. You shudder and resist the urge.

  All around the throne is filth, straw, bones, and naked human women. Some look almost normal and some have the hideous faces of the men from the Mouth Inn. Every single one of these women is gravid with pregnancy or has recently given birth. They crowd around the throne, some of them even clinging to his legs. They look up at the goat adoringly and you understand their adoration: he is magnificent.

  The goat’s head turns slightly and his alien eyes focus their gaze on you. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You struggle to keep from dropping to your knees like one of the goat’s many brides.

  “Step forward.”

  The words ring out in your mind with disorienting power. Before you realize what you are doing you have taken three steps towards the goat. You gaze up at him, breathing the sweet musk that wafts from his oft-used cock. He stands up slowly from his throne, his huge cock swinging between his bestial legs as he slowly approaches.

  “I know you, daughter of the huntress.” The words are spoken mellifluously in an empty, echoing chamber inside your mind. “Do you come before me to submit?”

  “Yes,” you moan.

  “Then kneel at the altar of my divine fertility,” he says steps so close to you that his cock is hanging almost even with your face.

  You drop heavily to your knees, your tits bouncing. A bone crunches beneath your knee and you look down to see a fleshless, broken human femur. It has a long serrated edge almost like a knife.

  The goat stands over you like a monolith that blocks out the light streaming into the chapel. The bestial power of the goat is dizzying, his musk eye-watering as he brings his cock closer to your face. You bow your head submissively, your fingers touching the broken femur.

  “If you serve me,” he speaks aloud, his words causing cries of pleasure from the many women, “then you will prove your obedience.”

  What do you do?

  Pleasure the goat

  Stab the goat's cock with the sharp bone

  Kiss her breasts and maybe more

  Looking at Velora’s shapely body and her undeniable beauty fills you with a craving you had failed to acknowledge before, even when watching her bathe. You want to know every centimeter of this woman. As is often the case with you
, such realizations are accompanied by memories of something you have read in your constant studies.

  Your thoughts return to the naiads. Women who fell in love with a naiad would sometimes bring them back to their homes and the water spirit would live within the homestead’s well. On moonlit nights, the woman would go out to her “well wife” and call her up from the dark waters below. The naiad was pale and hauntingly beautiful. It was known to drown amorous men, but for women it was purely pleasure. In Helena Brimsten’s Mercurial Spirits of Pleasure, one of the women interviewed by the famous monster cataloger described her naiad lover bathing her entire body in kisses and licks.

  “Yes,” you murmur, as much to yourself as to Velora. “Yes, I think I would like to do something things with you.”

  “Alright, love, what would—“

  Your embrace catches Velora by surprise. Your kiss silences her words and for the first time it is your tongue that pushes into her mouth rather than the reverse. She is quick to adjust to your desires, pulling you against her soft breasts and moaning into your kiss.

  “I have to see you,” you cry against her lips. “I must see you, caress you, and kiss you. Everywhere.”

  “Oh? Well, I won’t be objecting to any of that,” she says, kissing you back and taking a turn thrusting her tongue into your mouth. She lets you slip back onto the bed, kissing you and stroking your thighs. She stands up quickly and with a saucy smile and a few flicks of her fingers, she unlaces her dressing gown. A shimmy of her hips and it slips from her shoulders. The fabric catches on her jutting nipples for a moment, before she shimmies her hips again and it drops down to her waist.

  Velora’s breasts are pale against the tan of her cleavage, face, and arms. Her areolas are wide and nipples as thick as yours, but darker in color; a deep red that seems particularly engorged. She tickles her hard nipples with her fingers.

  “They’re always tender,” she hisses. “Men always suck them. I think it’s because they remember their mother’s breast.”

  “What about the women?” You ask, sitting up on the edge of the bed and lightly stroking your own quim. “Do they suck them?”

  “Well, not many women hire me, mind, but yes. They do as well.” She saunters closer, the gown slipping from her hips and revealing the roundness of her hips, her shapely bottom, and the hairless mound of her cunt. Her womanhood is fleshier, redder, and the lips plumper than your own. There is a tantalizing hint of liquid glistening at her entrance.

  She steps between your legs and you embrace her. She pulls your face against her breasts, smothering you in her soft, perfumed warmth. You stroke your hands up her back, pulling yourself even more firmly into the inviting valley of her ample breasts. You begin kissing and moaning against them. You move your lips to one of her plump nipples, looking up at her as you run your tongue slowly around it. You suck it, staring into her eyes, rubbing one hand between your leg.

  “Just like that,” she moans. “Everyone wants to suck them.”

  You are very gentle, taking your time to let your spit flood your mouth and running your tongue around and the plump bud of her nipple. You fondle and squeeze her soft breasts, popping your lips free of one nipple before moving to the other.

  “You’re so beautiful,” you moan before taking it into your mouth. You open your mouth wider, sucking at the surrounding areola and drawing that fat nipple further into your mouth. She moans and cradles you against her breast. She uses one hand to squeeze it as if she might feed you her mother’s milk.

  “Those golden eyes,” she says. “So unique. I’ve been with a thousand men and a hundred women and I’ve never met anyone else with golden eyes.”

  You pop your lips free and give her nipple another slow swirl of your tongue. You smile at her, “They run in my family. My mother and my sister have them too.”

  “Oh, yeah? Are they as adorable as you?”

  “Mmmm.” You suck her nipple lightly again for another moment. “Yes. My mother looks more like me than my sister. They’re both more comely than I.”

  “I find that hard to believe, love.”

  She uses her breasts in your face to push you back onto the bed. Her lips find yours and you share in another long, passionate kiss with Velora. But you aren’t done with her. You grab her in your arms suddenly and roll her onto her back. She gasps with delighted surprise.

  “Oh, now what are you doing?”

  “Paying you back for making me cum,” you say.

  She lifts her head to watch as you kiss her breasts briefly and move lower. The lust throbbing between your thighs is guiding your movements now. Like a naiad rising from a dark well, you crave to kiss her everywhere, including the hot velvet of her womanly cunt.

  You slip off the edge of the bed and Velora parts her thighs for you, drawing her feet up onto the bed and bending her knees. There is an almost dizzying moment as you arrive face-to-quim with Velora’s blushing folds. You examine her womanly flower, the slickness of her pink pussy, and breathe the unique scent of her desire. You have never been this close to a woman like this before. Even your own quim is downy with hair that conceals some of the lewd detail whenever you examine yourself in the mirror. Velora’s shorn cunt, by comparison, is both beautiful and raunchy in its exposure.

  She runs her fingers over it and gently parts her folds, revealing more of her glistening pink inner flesh. Her channel clenches and squeezes tight and a small drop of honey drips from inside her to trail slowly from her folds down to the shadowed divot of her anus. Your face is hot. It’s almost too much to take in.

  “Why don’t you try your fingers,” suggests Velora. It’s a good suggestion, but you have never been one to dip your toe into the water. You take a deep breath, inhaling her rich scent mingled with her perfume, and you lean your face to the hot, blushing furrow of Velora’s cunt.

  You shudder with desire as you run your tongue over her parted pussy, tasting the slight tang of her juices and licking over her slick folds. Your first tentative licks deepen and you push your tongue into the hot, sweet slickness of her cunt.

  “Ohhhhh my,” moans Velora, watching you drive your tongue into her quim. “You certainly take to that quickly, love.”

  It’s exhilarating to press your lips against her cunt and thrust your tongue as deep as you can into her squeezing pussy. She squirms against your face, her juices smearing your chin, lips, and nose. You moan with lust, sucking at her folds and filling your mouth with her taste. You swallow her nectar and push a finger into her hot tunnel. Your tongue presses against the fat bud of her clit.

  “It tastes so wonderful,” you cry, licking at her clit and fucking your middle finger in and out of your pussy. “Oh, gods, you look so beautiful.”

  She is propped up watching you, playing with her plump breasts and hard nipples with one hand and bracing herself upright with the other. You gaze up into her eyes as you lick and suck at her clit. You laugh as you lick her, so excited by this intense moment that you feel euphoric.

  “That’s it, love. You like that, don’t you?” She stops playing with her nipples to cradle the back of your head. She thrust her hips and grinds her juicy, hairless cunt against your face. “That’s it. Suck it. Suck it like a little cock. Ohhh… ohhh… Penny. Come on now, love. You’re going to do it.”

  Her encouraging words drive you to fuck her harder with your finger and suck her even more vigorously. You can see the tension in her toned tummy and her shuddering breasts. She fucks against your finger, clutching it tight with her inner walls as her pleasure rises.

  “Yessss!” She hisses, bucking so hard her mound hits your nose a little painfully. Her clutching cunt squeezes rhythmically around your finger and she wails with pleasure as her juices pour into your mouth and down your chin. You lick and suck her clit and swollen folds as she cums against your face.

  You are flushed, sweaty, and soaked with her nectar by the time her grip finally relaxes on the back of your head. You lift your face from between her thighs and wi
pe your lips and chin clean with your fingers.

  “You’re a natural,” she exhales.

  “Good teacher,” you say, smacking a big kiss on her thigh next to her quim. You climb up onto the bed and tangle your body against hers, kissing her eagerly and winding your legs with hers. “So what’s next?”

  She throws her head back and laughs.

  “Oh, eager are we?”

  “You started it,” you say, kissing her shoulder and neck before returning for another teasing kiss of her lips. She cradles your body against her, reaching a hand around to squeeze your ass and thrust her thigh against your hot pussy.

  “I’ve got it,” she says. “Would you like to know how it would feel if I were a man?”

  “What? How would that… with magic?”

  You know of spells that would allow a woman to become a man and others that would permit her to acquire only the certain aspects of manhood she desired. But you realize you have misspoken as soon as the words have passed your lips. Of course Velora is not speaking of magic. She knows nothing of the truth of such matters. To her, magic is an alchemist’s potion, or sleight of hand to entertain folk on the streets.

  “Magic?” She titters. “You read too many books, love. No magic.”

  She rolls off the bed and crosses the small tenement to her finely-decorated bed. Her half of the apartment is quite lovely. She spares no expense to beautify herself or her place of business here in the apartment.

  Beside Velora’s bed is a small table and upon that a small, gilded chest. You know she keeps her perfumes and expensive paints in there. She leans over it, moving the small bottles of paint as she shows you a rather enticing view of her ample backside and her blushing pussy still wet with her juices. She even flicks her hips impatiently from side to side.

  “Found it,” she says, pulling out leather strap and a shiny, black object about as long as your hand and twice the width of your thumb. It takes you a moment to realize you are looking at a phallus made from lacquered wood. It is carved to have a realistic glans and stylized ridges that you can suddenly imagine rubbing inside your clutching channel. Velora dances back over to the bed holding the wooden cock. “What do you think, love? Fancy a go with this?”