Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  You do not bother to question such contortions of her demonic anatomy. You enjoy her tongue as it flicks your cervix delicately and curls along the entire channel of your cunt. She sucks lightly at your folds, drawing out more of your nectar as her talented tongue drives you quickly to an orgasm. You cry out, “Ahhhhhhh! Yessss! Suck it! Lick it!”

  Your pleasure is heightened by the demonic warmth that seems to radiate from her touch. It is a molten ecstasy that flows and ripples with each orgasmic contraction, one peak becoming another, until you are arching and shaking atop her face. You nearly fall off and have to grab her curling horns again to stay mounted on the impossibly pleasure toy of her tongue.

  After the sixth or seventh orgasm – the pleasure is so intense and prolonged you are unsure how to even measure your climaxes – you finally dismount from her face. It only to turn around and smother her beneath your plump bottom as you reach for her slick quim with your fingers. You command her, “Worship my ass, you abyss born harlot!”

  “Ohhhh mmmmmm yes, mistress!” She cries out gratefully, embracing your bottom and pressing her face to your soft cheeks. Her tongue swirls against your tender clench and her fingers strum your clit. Your orgasms resume swiftly, only now with her tongue reaching deep into your ass and her fingers fucking you and rubbing your clit.

  You lean across Alyssa’s loveliness, spanking her clit with short, sharp smacks of your fingers. Each impact sends a jolt through her body that jiggles her breasts and seems to ripple along her tongue and into your ass. Her clit is surprisingly large and well-defined considering the delicacy of her pussy. It makes it easy for you to target your swats and then to soothe her moans with gentle stroking.

  There is no mistaking Alyssa’s climax. Her body arches powerfully beneath you, her thighs shake with tension, and her pussy releases a steady flow of warm, sweet-smelling nectar. You lick a bit from your fingers and it is as delicious as honey. Her orgasmic seems to reflect into her efforts to pleasure you and she cries loudly and holds your ass tight against her face as she plunges her tongue deep into your ass. Her fingers on your clit and fucking your clutching cunt drive you to a new peak of pleasure that leaves you barely able to breathe.

  Still shaking with aftershocks, you roll off of Alyssa and onto the bed beside her. You stretch out next to her and gasp for breath. She lifts her flushed, cum-smeared face and smiles sweetly at you.

  “You’re not like the last herald at all,” she giggles, reaching out to stroke your heaving breasts and tease your nipples with her fingertips. “You are a good deal of fun, Penelope. Where are you going? To the Dead City?”

  “Y-yes,” you gasp, finally regaining some of your breathing.

  “That sounds rather boring,” she says, leaning across you to lightly tease your right nipple with the hot tip of her tongue. You watch her lavender-tinged tongue swirl back and forth and the mischief dance in her violet eyes.

  “Ohhh, my mother and the Great One are… are there in the city. I must join them.”

  “Mmmmm,” she replies and gives your nipple a soft kiss. “So you are someone important? Not just a normal herald?”

  “I… suppose,” you say, resting your hand on her shoulder and stroking the muscular fold of one of her wings.

  “Alright, I’ll join you then,” she giggles and begins roughly sucking your nipple.

  “AH! But I wasn’t… I wasn’t asking for… ooooooh…”

  She pops her soft lips off your breast, leaving your nipple glistening. She looks up at you and says, “Oh, but you will be so lonely without me. I’ll go with you and we will have so much fun together. I need to get out once in a while.”

  She resumes sucking your nipple, so hard it hurts, but it hurts wonderfully. You moan and stroke her horns as her tongue flicks against your sucked bud.

  “Alright,” you moan. “You can… you can come with…”

  She pops her lip off your breast again and leans up to kiss you hungrily. Her tongue slides into your mouth, hot and sweet and smothering any reluctance. Her hand strokes between your thighs.

  “We can have fun whenever we get bored,” she says. “Fun like… mmmm… let me show you a trick.”

  She sits up on her knees beside you and cups her groin with both hands. When she pulls her hand away she has a partially flaccid penis. It's large and yet strangely delicate, even feminine, in its appearance. Smooth and pale, with just a hint of lavender color as the tip peeks out from her foreskin.

  "Do you like it?"

  "I knew you could change your shape," you say. "But I suppose I had never considered that a succubus might grow a cock."

  "Would you like to--"

  You interrupt her question by shoving her onto her back. She laughs and her breasts jiggle with the fall backwards onto the bed. You quickly climb atop her hips, straddling her waist and grasping the cock in your hand. You arch above her, leaning your lips to hers and kissing her passionately as your hand strokes her cock to full hardness.

  You sit high atop her, looking down into those beautiful violet eyes as you slide your pussy down onto her cock and impale the depths of your cunt on her manhood. Before you were marked by the Great One you might have hesitated at every turn, but now you see that desire is only a precursor to action. When you want something, like riding a beautiful succubus’s cock, you simply make it happens.

  "Ohhhhhh, Penelope," she moans. "Your flower is as hot and tight as a vise upon my prick."

  “A bit more than a prick,” you giggle, beginning to ride up and down her straining length.

  She reaches up and cradles your breasts as you move your hips and ride her throbbing member. It’s so big and seems to reach just the right spot that you cannot resist riding her faster and faster. You toss your head and buck atop the succubus, pleasure guiding every movement and her hands know just how to touch you to heighten your pleasure further.

  She moves beneath you, adding to your ride as you thrust down to meet her thrusts. Your tits bounce with each collision and her cock seems to swell with each stroke.

  "Fuck meeee," you whine with ecstasy. She plays with your nipples, thrusting harder and faster into your slick cunt until you explode with pleasure. "AAaaahhhAAAhhh!" You wail atop her, arching so violently that only her hands keep you from toppling backwards off her body. You move your body to meet each of her strokes as your pussy clenches with orgasm around her.

  You can feel her cock swelling and her grip tightening. You know enough about male anatomy to know that she is on the verge of bursting.

  "Cum inside me,” you cry. “I am blessed with, ohhh, the power to control... to controlllll OHH!"

  Another orgasm wracks your body. Alyssa grabs your hips tightly and moves you atop her with demonic strength. Your breasts bounce wildly as she thrusts up and deep into your shuddering quim. Her hot seed erupts against your sealed womb and her fertile, demonic seed fills your tight channel and drips from your stretched folds. You feel each powerful pulse of her pleasure and the accompanying jet of her orgasmic release.

  "Yes!" You cry, bucking atop her. "Oh, yes! Alyssssssa!"

  You and the succubus bask in the aftermath of your union. Her seed drips from your well-fucked pussy and trickles down your thigh. You stroke her hip and she braids the white lock of your hair.

  "We had better continue," you say, looking up at her and feeling the sudden urge to stay here in her strange palace.

  "If we must," she says, finishing the braid. "Let us at least have some refreshments first."

  She claps her hands and bird-headed men and lingerie-clad women parade into the bedroom with silver trays piled high with fruit, roasted meat, pickles, cheeses, fresh bread, tureens of savory sauces, pastries, sausages, cups of cream, and several selections of chilled wine.

  You eat lightly, but hungrily, and drink enough wine that your face flushes a deeper shade of red. Once you have filled your belly, you dress in your traveling garb. Alyssa has left you, only to reappear in the parlor clad in red leather trousers
, a fur-lined leather vest that barely covers her ample breasts, and crimson cloak that drapes her shoulders.

  "Are you ready to continue, my dear?" She asks, offering you her arm.

  "Yes," you say. "Remember, Alyssa, I am in charge of this journey."

  "Of course," she says, pulling back the curtain and opening the door into the gloomy forest. "Lead the way."

  You set off along the path once more, the beautiful succubus following a pace behind.

  CONTINUE >

  Parley

  You push the plant girl away from you and wipe her nectar off your breast. You cover up as best you can and shield your body from their curious touch.

  “Stay back,” you warn them. “And we can talk about this.”

  “Talk? You should kiss us,” says one of the plant girls, reaching for your bodice.

  “Yes, kiss us and suck us,” says the other plant girl, squeezing her breasts and causing thin streams of amber-colored syrup to spray out from her nipples.

  You avoid the spraying liquid and push aside their groping hands. You manage to get your bodice laced back up. They are not violent, but they are persistent. Eventually, they would just wear you out as you try to fend them off. Behind them, the fleshy pod yawns ominously open, as if waiting for something to fill its lavender interior. Something like a girl curled up into a ball. Maybe forced into that position by the amorous hands of a couple plant girls.

  “Do you want me to climb into that pod?” You ask them, pointing to the pod.

  “Oh, would you?” Giggles one of the plant girls.

  “That would be nice,” says the other. “It is very warm and soft in there.”

  Their reaction confirms your suspicion: these plant girls are some sort of servants of that fleshy pod. They must lure humans into the pods. For what? Food? The thought twists your stomach. Maybe food and something else. What if the pod turned the people it ate into more of these plant girls?

  They come at you again, trying to pull at your clothing, and you shove them roughly away. This time you take out one of the torch bundles from your pack and spark it with a flint rock. The torch bursts into a steadier flame and you wave it at the two plant girls. As you had hoped, they recoil in obvious terror.

  “Please, no,” they cry, their voices fearful but their faces strangely emotionless. You swing the torch back and forth, driving them back and making your way towards an exit from the courtyard. The open clam-shell pod slowly swings closed, as if to protect itself. You give it a wide birth just in case it has some unseen means of sudden movement.

  “Do not go,” the plant girls cry out piteously.

  They follow after you, but back off once again when you wave the torch in their direction. You very nearly stumble over one of the closed pods among the violet flowers. You look down and your guts tighten with terror as you see the pod is nearly translucent and a naked plant girl is growing inside surrounded by amber fluid. Her features are not full formed and her color seems to be completely white. Her head has only the first hints of the leafy foliage atop the other two girls.

  “I should burn you all,” you hiss at the plant girls and the pods. “You are cruel.”

  “Not cruel,” whines one of the plant girls.

  “Good,” agrees the other.

  You pick your way through the rest of the courtyard and exit into the bramble maze once more. You toss your torch on the ground behind you to ensure the two fearful plant girls do not give chase. They watch you go, moaning piteously and drooling their amber syrup from their open mouths.

  Following the bramble path seems to be getting you closer to the manor once more. Your hope soars as it seems at any twist or turn you might find yourself at the entrance into the huge house. You hear a faint sound and stop to listen closely. It is a buzzing like an insect. It grows louder very quickly and suddenly something whizzes by over the top of the hedges. You glimpse tanned thighs, a striped abdomen and reflective compound eyes.

  You reach a third courtyard within the garden maze, the largest yet, and you are astonished by what you find within it.

  CONTINUE >

  Wait

  You don’t move. Scarce breathe as the writhing tentacles crawl towards you. You’re too far. You need to get closer to the Scylla to ensure the potion works. And you can think of only one way to do that.

  The Scylla’s limbs slip about your waist and legs. You shudder at their oily touch, yet you cannot deny a thrill of pleasure as one brushes against your tender folds, its length slithering against your cunt. Others swell around your waist, one pushing its way between your breasts and clutching your tightly. Then, they hoist you into the air towards the Scylla.

  The womanly half of the monster cocks its head as it brings you near. It sniffs you again and opens its mouth, baring rows of jagged teeth. But that is not the mouth you need fear. You look down, and bile rises in your throat.

  The tentacles beneath it have parted. The ropy limb of its ovipositor is briefly visible. Then the skirt of tentacles shift the lower mass of the Scylla about, and you are confronted by the pale flesh of its lower body. A crack opens in the pasty flesh, slitting vertically and opening wide. Within you gaze upon the scylla’s true mouth. A mass of undulating grey flesh from which comes the stench of carrion. You gag, and then the Scylla begins to lower you towards its maw.

  You act quickly. You fight the grasp of the tentacles, freeing for the briefest of instants your arms. The Scylla pauses, cocking its head in confusion about your sudden struggle. It shall not stay so long. In an instant you have uncorked the potion, and hurl the flask into the gaping maw below.

  The scylla’s immense lower lips close reflexively on the bottle like a trap. Then, the monster freezes. A flurry of expressions cross its elfin face. A great shudder wracks its body. The leather tentacles which clutch your body writhe, losing their grip. You slip from their oily grasp, plopping down onto your shapely rump on the shore. The Scylla sways atop her massive body, air whistling past her teeth. The veins of blue which crawl across her pale skin pulse, turning an ill black. The creature grabs her throat with her clawed hands, heaving as if struggling to breathe.

  You scoot back as the Scylla starts to convulse, thrashing with terrible violence. Then, its struggles ease. Its arms fall from its throat. It sways a moment more, then falls back, hitting the water with a crash. A low wave of the corrupted waters washes to your feet, then quietly sloughs away in receding eddies.

  It all took less than a minute. The tentacled mass of the Scylla lies before you, atop the lake like a dead octopus.

  You slowly gather yourself, rising with a shuddering breath.

  “I… I did it.” You whisper in awe. Then, give a great whoop of success, and as quickly slap your hands over your mouth. Your golden eyes shoot about the mists, which have already begun to fade. The Scylla may be dead, but other things might lurk among the swamp. Shaking your head, you hastily leave the corpse to rot in the water and return to the road, still glowing with triumph.

  The mist seems thinner now you notice idly. From the fading clouds, you see the end of the valley before you. Low cliffs rear above you, but between them crawls a stairway cut into the rock and climbing up the cliff face. You move up them, one step at a time. At their end is a cave cut into the cliffs.

  As you approach it, a foul, vegetable stench assaults your nostrils. Slime glistens on the stone near the entrance.

  Under any other circumstances, you would not enter. Under these circumstances, you have no choice. You light a candle from your pack and set off into the cave.

  CONTINUE >

  Bride of the goat ending

  A squawk in the gloomy chapel announces another birth and a chorus of joy follows from you and the other women. It is a cold morning and you are huddled together. You can actually see the tot being lifted up for the goat father to see his new child.

  “A girl,” he declares and there is another, more enthusiastic cheer from the women. Girls are blessed. Girls will stay with you
and grow into brides for the father. The boys have to be sent to the village and you never see them again. “She is named Alekka.”

  “Alekka, welcome!” You cry along with the other mothers. The purple-faced tot screeches without comprehension. Her face seems human, but she looks to have a hint of horns growing from her forehead. It is another blessing to be born with traits of the goat.

  The rag-clad young girls scuttle into the chapel and take the baby away to the nursery. These are the daughters still too young to be brides. You wonder how many of them were born here to the women pressed against you. The mother of the newborn follows after the girls. She is permitted to remain in the nursery with her child for a few days by the generosity of the goat.

  The excitement over the new birth dies to a murmur. The goat rises from throne and strides out to stand among his many brides. You stir from your pile, breasts swollen from pregnancy, back sore from lying in the straw. Your child is still weeks away, but you can feel her growing inside you.

  “Come, sister,” beckons one of the women lying with you for warmth. You get onto your hands and knees and follow her. Others are already caressing him, touching his cock and his furry legs, massaging his heavy bollocks. The stink of sour milk is in the air and old cum clings to your skin. Reminders of the glorious fertility rituals conducted several times a day by father goat.

  The brides moving around him pass through the shafts of sunlight leaking through the roof, their bodies pale white or even pink in the fleeting illumination. You press among them, moaning as a thigh rubs against your cunt and someone’s hand fondles your right breast. You enjoy these touches, but your attention is on the goat’s dangling cock. Already, it is beginning to rise. Fluid glistens at the tip and one lucky bride gathers it with her fingers and licks it up. Hands work his shaft. You reach up and manage to catch a drop of his warm fluid on a fingertip. You lick the sweet nectar immediately, feeling a thrill of desire.