Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust
Page 25
“What do you mean?” You ask, suspecting, but still not fully comprehending her intent.
She pantomimes belting the leather strap around her waist and a shorter strap between her legs. She holds the carved toy as if it is a man’s cock rising from her mound.
“Eh?” She says, working her hips. “I’ll be nice and gentle with it. Promise.”
“Oh,” you say, staring in disbelief. “Oh, my!”
A grin spreads on your face as she thrusts her hips, continuing to demonstrate it, and it is very easy for you to picture her standing between your legs or kneeling behind you and thrusting into your freshly-pleasured pussy.
An hour ago, you would have surely said no to such a lewd suggestion. Now, you suddenly find it intriguing and more than a little exciting. You have little experience with men and particularly little as of late because of your acetic, scholarly life. Still, letting Velora thrust that cock into your quim would seem beyond all sensible behavior. Do you really want her thrusting away at your quim with that wooden toy?
Then again, you’ve read of other ways a woman can have a man. You have read of some women who quite fancy a cock up their bottom.
“Well?” Velora kneels on the bed beside you. “What do you say, love?”
How adventurous are you?
You're definitely not ready for that
Let Velora fuck you with her toy
Let Velora put her toy up your bottom
There is no time for it!
“Much as I would like to take you up on that offer, we have no time to dawdle for the sake of pleasure.” You gently push Alyssa away. She immediately gets a hurt expression on her face.
“Aw, you’re no fun,” she pouts. “I would have curled your toes in your boots.”
“I’m certain that’s true,” you say, pulling her against you once more and giving her another steamy kiss. Her sweet mouth opens eagerly to you and her tongue curls against yours in a hot, intimate dance. You have to push her away again, lest the succubus lure you back to the brink of surrendering to your desire. You gasp, “Enough. Let us go.”
“Fine,” says Alyssa and her tone seems to be one of resignation. Wisps of smoke curl from nothing and gather on her body, quickly forming into her tight-fitting, fur-fringed vest and her red leather trousers. She somehow looks even sexier dressed for the road than she looked nude.
You and the succubus leave the clearing where the drider set its trap and rejoin the path headed towards Rhilath. Having chased off the drider, the forest feels somehow safer.
“Your behavior with this succubus is appalling,” says your mother in your mind. “She will lead you to your doom if you let her seduce you.”
“At least it will be a fun doom,” you reply mentally. “Most of the doom I’ve encountered lately are the chewed up by a giant worm or digested by plants sort of doom.”
“See how fun you think it is when she has your soul for all eternity,” replies your mother.
Alyssa laces her arm through your and leans against you. She looks up at you, worry in her violet eyes.
“Are you well? You look troubled.”
“I worry about you, Alyssa,” you say. “You are a dangerous creature to have as a traveling companion.”
“I’m very safe,” she counters. “In some circumstances, I might be your only hope.”
It seems to be a cheery answer, judging by the way she gives it, but you wonder what circumstances Alyssa imagines where she will save your life.
Despite your misgivings, you feel a swell of affection for the demoness, enough to almost forget your concerns about the path your soul has taken on your journey to Rhilath.
Ahead, you see the road leading out of the darkness of the forest becomes a paved road through an open field. The sinister towers of Rhilath rise in the hazy distance.
You are almost there…
CONTINUE >
Wait
Any sudden move seems likely to get you skewered by arrows. No, you need to wait and look for an opportunity. You keep one hand on the grip of your kirana and the other poised, ready to draw a flintlock and fire. Even if it’s a wild shot, your hope is that the smoke and fire from the pistol will scare off the gertlings.
You watch them warily as they begin to spread out. The archers move to left, taking up behind the remnants of two burned walls in the rubble of the village. The brute with the cudgel comes slowly towards you, moving his weapon from hand to hand and keeping your focus on him. You realize, too late, just how close the leader has come. You realize he is only a dozen paces away, turn partially, and see the blur of the bolo leaving his hands.
You try to draw your sword and at least bring that up to guard against the whirling rope and weighted stones. The spinning rope entangles your half-drawn blade and yanks it out of your hand. It clatters to the ground as the rope binds your arms and the stones thump painfully against your left shoulder and your back. The blow knocks the wind out of you and sends you to your knees. You fumble to draw your flintlock, but you cannot even raise it and pitifully discharge it almost straight down into the ground.
The gertlings squeal triumphantly and gibber in their ugly language. The runts leap out of the rubble and scurry towards you, passing up the lumbering brute, but it is the leader that reaches you first. The tallest and leanest of the gertlings tosses your weapons well out of reach. You try to stand up and he pushes you back down with a kick in the back.
“No more fighting,” he laughs. “We have you now, human.”
They circle around you, squealing and gibbering excitedly in their language. Tears fall from your eyes as you realize you are beaten by the lowliest of monsters. You cannot even look up at them, but the thug grabs your hair and yanks back your head. His fiendish mouth is open wide, his black tongue running lasciviously over his tiny, jagged teeth. The leader snaps at the brute and pushes him away. One of the runts darts in and tears at your bodice, ripping the threads that bind your breasts. You whimper as the torn garment flops open and your plump, heaving breasts are exposed.
“Back!” Warns the leader. “She mine! I catch her! She mine for fun first!”
You sob as you realize that they are fighting over the right to ravish you. Gertlings are well known to be interested in human females. Crossbreeds between gertlings and humans are extremely rare, but under the fertility curse that blankets this island you fear you will be impregnated easily with some hybrid gertling monstrosity. You don’t even dare to contemplate that life and you begin to struggle fiercely at the rope binding your arms.
“You are pretty one,” says the gertling leader. He tears at the back of your bodice and rips it from your skin. Your breasts bounce completely free and the gertling grabs them and begins to roughly squeeze your plump tits and pluck at your nipples. You whimper in terror, your distress growing with the pleasure that shoots through you from your nipples to your clit each time he pinches them with his long, skinny fingers. “Humans here are skin and bones and dirty. You are clean. Milky skin.”
He presses his horrific face to your cheek and runs his tongue over and around your ear. His hot breath stinks of disease.
“P-please,” you whimper. “Please don’t do this.”
“Do this? Hee hee hee! You no want?” He gibbers to his companions and they make a high-pitched rattling sound that you take to be laughter. The gertling leader grows suddenly serious. “I take whatever I want. No care what you want!”
He shoves you face down on the ground. With your arms still bound tight, you fall helplessly with your breasts mashing into the blackened earth and your face landing in charred rubble. The bitter taste of ash fills your mouth. You can only struggle slightly, wiggling your ass from side to side in your town dress as the triumphant gertling steps behind you.
“Hee hee! What a big butt! Humans have so much butt! I love it! I fuck it over and over!”
“Nooooooo!” You moan against the grit that fills your mouth.
The gertling leader flips your skirt up
from your ass and onto your back. His little hands smack at your ass and he grabs hold of your panties and yanks them down from your plump, creamy cheeks. You whimper as your body is shamefully exposed by the weakling monster. His sharp nails scratch red lines into your jiggling bottom. He smacks you again and again, laughing with delight and watching the rippling of your soft assflesh.
“This one sits a lot,” he screeches. “Look at pussy and ass! So pink and clean!”
His fingers rub at your furry cunt and spread your intimate folds. You moan with despair into the rubble. The gertling laughs again and rubs your asshole with the fingers of his other hand. The other gertlings stand close by, watching their leader fondle you and expose you as they rub at their little cocks in their loin cloths. You close your eyes and wish it would all go away, but the insistent rubbing at your tender cunt and your clenched asshole are beginning to have an effect on you. Pleasure throbs in your clit and the gertling begins to push his fingers into your slick channel.
“Mmmmmm so warm! So wet!” He remarks with delight. “I taste your girl honey!”
“No, please, don’t do that,” you moan useless against the bitter earth.
The gertling laughs behind you and presses its small, bony face against the softness of your ass. You whimper as his tongue samples your nectar. He begins lick at your dewy folds and flicking at the bud of your clit all the while snuffling and sniffing loudly with his nose shoved into the crack of your ass. It’s so humiliating that your body seems to be on fire with shame.
Worse still, the pleasure is undeniably as his tongue wriggles deep into your tight quim and he slurps wantonly at your juicy mound. You try to quiet your pleasure as this pitiful weakling monster, one of the lowliest in your family’s codex, drives you mad with his tongue. Soft cries begin to escape your lips and the other gertlings mock you with laughter. The leader slips his tongue out of your juicy pussy and rises to his feet behind you.
“Sweet as fruit,” he says. “Now we fuck. I put litter into you. Make strong babies with human.”
“No, please, don’t do that! I can… I can…”
“You get fucked,” he says, untying his loincloth and exposing the unhealthy-looking blue thumb of his cock. The tip is a lurid pink and dripping with his yellowish filth. He’s standing and you are on your knees and the height difference lines up almost perfectly. He presses the bulb of his cockhead against your juicy cunt and there is nothing you can do to stop him. “I put it so deep. You like this much, big fat human girl!”
His cock isn’t big, but you don’t have much experience. Maybe it is the humiliation of knowing that this lowly creature has won the right to claim your cunt, maybe it’s the terror at what lies ahead, but the first thrust of his stiff cock into your slick channel nearly drives you to a climax. His clawed hands take hold of your shapely hips and he begins thrusting into your cunt. He is as savage as you had feared, slamming his bony hips against your soft ass and plunging his hardness in and out of your pussy.
“Yes! Yes, so good!” He yips, practically climbing atop your ass in his frenzy of lust. His cock thrusts in and out, faster and faster, rubbing inside your fluttering channel and making you gasp helplessly. You feel your shameful orgasm approaching. The gertling reaches his orgasm first. He clutches your hips so tight he draws trickles of blood beneath his claws and jams his cock as deep as it will go into your slick quim.
“Ooooohhh,” you moan, pitifully, as you feel the beastie’s cock twitching inside you and gushing out powerful streams of his monstrous seed. The moment his spunk spurts against your womb, you feel a sudden wave of pleasure. It is more powerful than any orgasm, elation like an overdose of poppy nectar and the sudden realization that everything will be wonderful. For your body has been seeded by a monster.
Your orgasm follows immediately and your inner walls grip tightly at the last, dribbling pumps of the gertling’s cock.
“So good,” you moan, not even caring that your face is half-buried in the ashes of the village. The gertling pulls his cock out of your pussy with a loud slurp and you feel the monstrous spunk drooling from your nearly virgin folds. That thick broth has made you into a mother, filling your vessel with such precious seed. Some part of your mind recoils from this thought, but it is far weaker than the magic that hangs over the island.
The brute gertling steps behind you, taking the place of the gertling leader. Your heart sings with excitement. What could be better than a load of cum from one gertling? A load from another gertling!
“Yes, more, please,” you moan into the dirt.
“She want to fuck,” laughs the leader. “When humans get the seed they always know their place. I untie her.”
You are glad to be untied. Now you can properly show your appreciation, turning around and eagerly sucking at the gertling brute who thrusts his thick cock into your face. It is no longer than the leader’s, but it is much thicker, and you marvel at the delicious saltiness of the precum that flows plentifully into your mouth. Bobbing your lips on his cock soon produces potent gushes of seed. You look up at the brutish gertling with adoration in your eyes as you drain his balls with your sucking mouth.
The runts take you together. Their cocks are so wee that you can fit them both in your mouth at the same time. Once you’ve given them a nice sucking, moaning with pleasure the whole time, the gertlings position themselves so that you straddle one and the other claims your ass. It feels so wonderful to be filled with two cock, even if they are tiny, that you beg for the gertling leader to feed you his hard cock. He fucks it into the soft oval of your mouth while the two runts rut furiously at your pussy and ass.
This is heaven.
“I love it,” you moan around the leader’s cock. “I need more. Fuck me. Never stop fucking me!”
“We take you back to our village. You fuck tribe. Make many babies.”
“Yessssss!” You cry, throwing back your head as two wee cock erupt simultaneously into your pussy and ass. Your orgasm ripples around them and milks their cocks of their precious spunk.
Completely under the spell of the gertling spunk in your womb, you can hardly wait to service the whole tribe.
CONTINUE >
The Knight and the Whore ending
How long had she hung there? Too long. Far, far too long.
Arana strained her body but couldn’t move more than an inch. Her wrists and ankles were wrapped in pliant leather and chains pulled on them, tying her spread eagled in the middle of the room. Her naked skin was warm and flushed the pink of helpless arousal. The muscles of her bum twitched as the bead within her cunt pulsed inside her, prolonging the exquisite agony of her desire.
She couldn’t move. Could do nothing to satisfy it. Tears ran hot down her cheeks from her frustration. Oh gods how she needed it. But nothing touched her. Not even a breeze. She could see nothing. Could feel nothing but the steady pulsation of the monstrous thing in her cunt, and the soft leather cuffs which bound her.
Through the haze of pleasure she tried to force herself to remember, but it was hard. Weeks? Days? Months? Or, most terrible of all, hours? Surely not. Surely she could not have been reduced to this in mere hours.
She grabbed at shreds of memories, her focus lasting perhaps a few seconds before the desperate pulsation in her cunt broke her concentration, scattering it like frightened birds. She was a knight. Yes. She had been. She remembered King Justin looking out over the forests and the distant smoke. She had been riding escort to the princess. Sala. Chaste and fair. Fleeing before the monstrous hordes come from beyond the seas could lay siege to his castle.
A throb. Powerful. She threw back her head, a gasp. Her ass clenched. Her muscles tightened. The heat of her core was molten and lust burned in her veins. Would she cum? Would she cum without even the touch of another?
No. She was eased from the brink by the thing inside her. Drawn back, unsatisfied. She sagged, sobbing as her muscles fell limp again, and the pulsing continued. The steady ache deep within her.
A woman standing atop the carriage, her hair brown but for a streak of white. Golden eyes mirrored in the monstrous orb at the juncture of her breastplate. Her shapely body on display but for piecemeal armor which did nothing to hide her curves. A breastplate strapped across her ample breasts and a triangle of steel barely covering her quim. All held together by meager straps of leather which wound across her flesh.
A name. The Collared Queen. The raider who had stabbed deep into the heart of human lands even as the monstrous hordes met their ranks at the front. A slaver who was said to enjoy the pleasures of her captives before selling them to the monstrous hordes, little more than broken slaves desperate for breeding.
And in her arms at that dark day, the princess. Sala. Wide eyed and shaking with terror.
“Surrender!” the slaver had called, and tightened her grip on the princess.
Arana had little other choice, then. She’d been stripped by a minotaur who took his time fondling her. Kneading her soft breasts and grinning down his muzzle at her. But a sharp word from their savage queen had prevented more from happening. Arana had felt those golden eyes on her naked flesh as they were marched back to the ruined keep which the Collared Queen called home.
Yes, Arana thought, and the pulsating deep within her began to grow once more. Yes, she recalled now. The dark bowels of that dungeon. Where men and women languish behind bars, rutting with monsters. Chained down, whipped, all crying out their love for their rapists, wailing in pleasure. Arana had sworn never to yield. But the golden eyed mistress of these monsters had grinned, and deep in those eyes Arana had seen what had truly horrified her.