Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  “No,” Janine murmurs. “That is for our master.”

  The wolf growls, but does as bid. His cock slides across your cheeks, leaving a trail of precum. Slips between the globes, and you sigh as he enters you.

  The wolf begins to rut you. You bury your face in Janine’s breasts, breathing deeply the cloying scent of her and the fumes of the braziers. All around you shadowy shapes move against each other. Ripples of endless motion. Moans of pleasure and gasps of desire. Janine grasps your breasts, molding your flesh against her own. You lift your head and meet her lips. Her tongue slips into your mouth. Her fingers trail down your body and to your cunt. Slip inside. You rock against her touch, the wolf’s cock pushing you against her form.

  You feel the tensing of the wolf. Your breath grows hot. Your mind whirls. You moan into the cultist’s mouth as the wolf howls and cums inside of you. You cry out, mewling as your own orgasm peaks. You cum against Janine’s fingers, your moaning cry swallowed by her kiss.

  The wolf’s knot swells, trapping him within your ass. Janine smiles, her teeth shining white, her pupils narrowing to slits. She slides from beneath you, as sinuous as a snake.

  “Nooo…” you moan, but Janine slides away, her swinging hips the last you see before she vanishes among the rest. Leaving you impaled on the wolf’s shaft, his knot swollen in your ass.

  In time, the wolf’s knot shrinks. He withdraws. You’re lifted by powerful arms, carried out of the room and into the antechamber of the shrine. You slip away in blissful unconsciousness.

  Warm air stirs you. You breathe, not the cloying incense of the room, but the corrupted air of the temple city. You blink, seeing the gloom of Rhilath. You hear not the soft sounds of the orgiastic cultists in the throes of pleasure, but the steady and hard sounds of brutal labor and the snap of whips.

  You start, coming to yourself fully. Instantly you struggle but powerful arms hold you tight. You gasp, looking down to see the hairy forearms of a minotaur gripping your against his chest. His hold tightens as you snarl for him to let you go.

  Ahead of you, Janine turns. The horned cultist has casually draped her dark robe over her form, its front open to reveal her flawless skin but for the brand upon her mound.

  “Awake already? You certainly have your mother’s fortitude I’ll give you that.”

  You flush furiously and glare down at the cultists. “Release me!”

  Janine laughs. “Now why on earth would you want that? After all, I’m taking you exactly where you want to go!”

  She sweeps her hand, turning with a flutter of black cloth to direct your eyes. You look up, and shrink in horror. The pyramidal temple looms ahead, its shape a black edifice of evil, the ghostly image of its glory caressing the ruined shape of its current design.

  “Come,” Janine says, beckoning a second minotaur who bears your struggling sister. “Your mother, and your master, await!”

  CONTINUE >

  Enjoy being pampered by all of them

  You look from the lovely succubus to her numerous slaves and your excitement grows. You have fantasized before about joining one of the cult orgies that some of the temples were rumored to hold in Akrane. These slaves and their succubus master would surely put such orgies to shame. The opportunity to allow a stunningly beautiful demoness and her slaves to pleasure you completely is too much to pass up.

  “I think you are all too wonderful to choose,” you say, running your fingers over the chest of one of the bird-headed warriors. You saunter up to a busty brunette in black lingerie, grab the back of her head, and pull her into a passionate kiss. Alyssa is waiting for you when you break the kiss. Her smile is that of a cat that has finally put its paw on the mouse’s tail.

  “We will take you to heights of pleasure you cannot even imagine,” says the demoness, her violet eyes twinkling. “Follow me.”

  You enjoy the sight of her shapely ass barely contained by her thronged panties, her tail swishing back and forth over her plump buttocks and her hips swinging from side to side as she leads you through the curtained archway. The women and bird-headed men crowd around you, some reaching out to caress you as you follow behind Alyssa.

  She leads you down a hallway that is much darker than the parlor and to a double-door that opens into a room that seems carved from rock. This strange cave pulses with light from violet veins in the stone and a giant heart hovers above a pedestal of stone, casting violet light around the room. Every few seconds, the heart throbs, beating like a bass drum that echoes through the chamber.

  “Where are we?” You ask, marveling at the strange chamber.

  “This is my heart, herald,” says Alyssa, curling a hand around your head and pulling you closer. “Few are permitted into this inner sanctum. This is where my power resides. And where you will know pleasure beyond all imagining.”

  The slaves undress you with practiced hands as Alyssa kisses you and caresses your body. Her kiss is incredible. You know she is feeding upon your essence, but you do not care, the feeling is in many ways more pleasurable and intense than any orgasm you have ever had. It is like she is drawing pleasure from deep inside you and out through your lips. Violet light flashes from the throbbing heart and its pulse quickens. Alyssa breaks the kiss as you begin to weaken.

  “You are delicious,” she moans, stroking her fingers over her lips. “A huntress, a herald, so much power inside you. So much life.”

  She kisses you again, tasting more of your essence. You swoon into her arms, unable to resist the sweet drain of her lips. But she stops short of causing you real harm.

  “I must avoid your wanton lips,” she gasps. “Or I will take too much.”

  “Take it,” you whimper. “Take it all.”

  “Do not say such things!” She shouts, her eyes flashing with violet energy. “Your soul burns brighter than any I have encountered before. To taste it is… bliss.”

  “Taste itttttt,” you moan, but you are already being pulled away from Alyssa. Her slaves bear you to an immense mound of satin cushions. They caress and kiss your naked body, exploring your breasts with sucking mouths and between your thighs with eager fingers. A man kneels beside your head and you turn and suck at his thick cock. With your mouth full of his maleness, two beautiful women kneel between your thighs and begin to lick you and pleasure you with their fingers.

  The warmth of naked and nearly-naked bodies presses around you like you have been returned to the womb. Hands ravish your curves, hot mouths suckle at your breasts, and the cock in your mouth jerks and fills your throat with your first warm load of cum. You buck your hips as you climax against two warring tongues, spilling your juices onto the faces of two of Alyssa’s lovely slaves. You dine eagerly on another cock, taking it into your throat as a man fucks your mouth and slaps his bollocks against your face. His cock is huge and yet your throat takes it easily. Your belly is soon pumped full of another load of cum.

  “It’s not enough,” you gasp as he pulls his cock from your mouth. “I need more. I need to be fucked.”

  The men are only too happy to oblige. One man pulls you atop his cock, impaling your pussy, as another squats behind you and thrusts into your tender ass. A third man stuffs his cock into your mouth. It takes you a moment to realize that it is actually Alyssa and she has grown a cock from between her thighs. Of course, you think, slurping eagerly at her feminine fucktool, a succubus can change herself to match any desire.

  You fuck, suck, lick, eat, swallow, slurp, bounce, sweat, cum, cum, cum, and cum, again and again, your pussy clutching at every thrusting cock, every finger, and every plunging tongue. You are showered with cum, you drink it and take it deep in your ass. You suck the orgasm from a gasping blonde and 69 with Alyssa, who has restored her delicate pussy and feeds it to you with relish. You lose all sense of time and purpose beyond the immediate pleasure of fucking and being fucked.

  All around you, slaves become exhausted and drop out of the festivities by ones and twos. Eventually, it is just you and Alyssa, still rutt
ing by the pulsing light of the violet heart. You ride atop her cock, your breasts heaving as you tremble with another orgasm. She grabs your hips, slamming deep into you and firing her seed for the seventh time, or possibly the eighth, deep into your clutching cunt. You fall atop her, finally totally spent. She holds you against her sweat-slicked breasts. Her wings folding around you like a blanket wrapping your body.

  “I never imagined such pleasure,” you murmur, tasting the salt of sweat upon her nipple. You lazily lick at her plump, lavender bud. She guides your mouth to her nipple and you suck gently.

  “I told you it would be so,” says Alyssa. “Now you tell me something.”

  “Anything,” you say, smiling up at her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I cannot stay?” You ask, feeling slightly hurt and lifting your head from her breasts.

  “You could,” she says, as if considering the possibility, “but I think we should journey together. Wouldn’t that be fun? I could accompany you to…”

  “The Dead City,” you say. “Mother and the Great One are waiting for me there. You would really come with me?”

  “Yes, I will be there to keep things… mmmm… fun.” She squeezes your ass with both hands and you feel her cock stirring against you.

  “I think we had better go,” you say reluctantly, “or I fear I will never leave this place.”

  “Mmmmmm, as delicious as that would be, I think you are correct,” she says and gently pushes you away. You rise from the field of exhausted slaves and offer the demoness a hand up. You feel your strength returning already.

  Alyssa claps her hands together with annoyance and some of the slaves begin to rouse themselves.

  “Food! Drink!” She barks, snapping one bird-headed man on the bottom as he walks past. “We require earthly sustenance before we depart.”

  That sounds like just the thing to restore your strength. 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 braids the white lock of your hair and gives you a soft kiss on the lips.

  "I will return in a moment," she says. "Make ready to leave."

  You gather your things and find your way to the curtained entrance to the palace. Alyssa reappears 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 >

  Dominate

  It is nice to have the confidence of the Great One’s blessing, but feeling sure of yourself and projecting that onto a hulking monster are two entirely different things. You need to test the limits of your authority as a marked servant of the Great One. You gaze unflinchingly at the ugly ogre, take a deep breath, and draw yourself up into your most erect posture. Being soaking wet probably won’t help you project strength, but there is no time to worry about that.

  “I am the herald of the Great One,” you say. “I have journeyed from a faraway land and I am bound for the Dead City of Rhilath.”

  The ogre bows his head below your eye level. He rises slowly.

  “I am Premble. I am loyal servant of Great One. I know way through tunnels to the surface. There is way through my cave. I will take you.”

  He motions for you to follow and he begins to shuffle through the home he has carved through the rock.

  “Do you need food? You can dry clothes.”

  You look down at your waterlogged bodice clinging to your plump breasts. You are fighting not to tremble in the chill of the ogre’s cave.

  “Very well,” you say. He nods his head and smiles sheepishly, if such a creature could seem sheepish. He shuffles deeper into the cave and shows you to a seam in the stone floor with a chiseled wedge of rock above it.

  “Warm,” he says, indicating the opening in the floor. You hold out your hand and feel the very warm geothermal air that rises from the seam. It feels wonderful on your hand. Premble grunts and says, “I make food. Leave you alone.”

  He starts to walk away and you have a moment to wonder what a servant of the Great One should do. You realize that you should not let the ogre shuffle off like a cook. You should tease him and dominate him.

  “No,” you say. “Stay here. Stay with me. Kneel beside me.”

  “Oh, yes, herald,” he growls with excitement. He falls heavily to his knees beside you and still is nearly even with your eye level. He smells of river water and sweat. His heavy brows rise hopefully as he looks at you.

  “Look at you,” says your mother inside your head. “Maybe being a herald of the Great One is your destiny. Use your power, Penny. Dominate this stupid oaf.”

  “I will,” you think in reply. “Now be quiet, mother.”

  Her laughter tickles inside your mind, slowly receding to silence. You take another deep breath, look into the beady eyes of the ogre, and slowly remove your weapon belt. The sword clinks to the floor and the pistols follow. You shrug out of your heavy pack, which is thankfully made from wax-sealed canvas.

  Your leather coat sticks to your body as you slide it off your shoulders and spread it out carefully on the stone. You can feel the ogre watching you, admiring your curves through your water-tightened blouse and skirt. Let him look, you think, as you bend over and wiggle your hips slightly as you rearrange the jacket. You hear the ogre grunt and feel a thrill to be so easily manipulating this brute.

  “What was that?” You snap. “Do you have something to say?”

  “Um, no, herald,” says poor Premble and you almost want to laugh as he looks down at the floor.

  “Hold still,” you say and rest a hand on his meaty shoulder as you pull off your wet boots. You drape them over the thermal vent and begin to slide off your skirt. You catch Premble watching as you expose your pale thighs and your water-tightened panties cleaving to your plump buttocks. He looks quickly away and you struggle not to laugh at him. Nine feet tall and heavy as a horse and he is behaving like a bashful church boy in your presence.

  You unlace your bodice and free your breasts from your bra. He can’t help but take in the sight of your pale, glistening breasts and your cold-stiffened nipples. You know he is watching as you finally slip out of your panties and drape them over the rock. He can see your plump ass marked with red from your cinched underwear and your lightly-furred cunt. As you turn back around to face him, he can certainly see the faint pulsing light of your magical tattoo.

  “You know what this means, right, ogre?” You demand, running a hand down your belly and stroking the glowing symbol.

  “Means you’re with the Great One. He likes you.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” you say, waving a finger at him. “Likes me enough to make me his herald. And the herald of the Great One may have whatever she wants from a common ogre like you. Isn’t that right, Premble?”

  Without hesitation he answers, “Yes!”

  You stroke his bald head, running your fingers over his uneven ears. He shudders and groans with desire. You step closer, letting your nipples graze his face, feeling his warm breath, and lightly smothering him in the softness of your mounds. He reaches his huge hands out to caress your hips. You step back and give him a very cross look.

  “Now, now, Premble, I touch you. I get what I want from you. Not the other way round.”

  He pulls his hands away and looks ashamed. He low
ers his gaze to the floor. You tilt his head back up with two fingers on his flabby chin.

  “On your back,” you say, “and I will let you properly worship the pussy of the herald.”

  “Ohh!” The poor oaf cannot get on his back fast enough. He flops back onto the floor and looks up at you expectantly. You stand beside his hip and slowly extend a foot, rubbing your toes over the bulge in his trousers. His cock is massively thick and stirs beneath your foot. You press a little harder, wiggling your toes, and he lets out a beastly groan.

  “Take that out,” you say, tapping your feet against his cock. “But no stroking. Just take it out and show me.”

  “Y-yes, herald,” he says, fat fingers fumbling at the rope that serves as his belt. He flops the rope aside and draws down his raggedy trousers.

  You can’t help but softly suck in a gasp as his massive, misshapen cock rises into view. It is hairless and erect, as thick as your bicep, bulging on one side and tapered to the tip on the other, with a slit that is already weeping his excited juice. The musk of his desire wafts from his throbbing cock. Despite his disfiguration, your pussy aches with lust.

  “Mmmmmm,” you say, betraying none of your desire, “quite an ugly thing, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes, herald,” he murmurs. “I-I sorry.”

  “No apologies. All monsters are beautiful in the eyes of the Great One.” You hope that’s true. You know very little about the Great One other than what your mother has told you and how that symbol on your mound makes you feel.

  You smile sweetly at Premble and step astride his face. He gazes up between your thighs at your glistening folds. You turn slowly to face his feet and sink down onto your knees. His head is so big and his nose so bulbous that your plump bottom settles onto his face before your knees touch the ground. He moans and sniffs loudly at your crack.