“I understand,” you say, though you find it hard to imagine how you will both hide from this man and be his guest on the caravan.
“I will see you again, Velora,” you say as you depart down the hall.
“You had better,” she calls after you. “I need someone to pay half the rent.”
CONTINUE >
Wait
You are mesmerized by the beautiful flower of the pleasure whip. You stare at the way it gently moves in the breeze. Each curled petal is decorated with blending bands of vivid colors more beautiful than any rainbow. Its stamens are furry with pollen and its cloying scent invades your nostrils and seems to dwell heavily in your sinuses.
The vines around the base of the fountain are moving more energetically. They slither out of the way and clear a path for you across the musty paving stones to the flower. How kind of the vines. You smile serenely as you stumble forward, drawn by the delicious scent towards the pleasure whip. That name had a meaning. What was it? You cannot remember why that name was important.
You stagger up to the flower, resting your hands on the arm-thick stem and pressing your face into the flower. You inhale deeply, feeling the dusty pollen tickling in your nostrils. You stager back a step, laughing with amazement as the incredible scent. Your whole body is aflame with desire as you sink down onto your knees. Your pussy is aching and your nipples are painfully erect inside your bra. You pull your skirt up your thighs and thrust your other hand into your panties.
“OhhhhhHHHHH,” you moan, pushing two fingers into your slick channel and fucking against your fingers.
It feels so amazing. Every part of your body is throbbing with erogenous energy. You fuck yourself with two fingers and then three, wailing with pleasure as you begin to cum against your hand. You pull open your bodice and tear away your underclothes, playing with your fat nipples and jerking with orgasms that crackle over your entire shuddering body.
The vines begin to slither over your feet and coil around your ankles. You moan with excitement as they wind their way up your legs. Thick vines cradle your buttocks and thread between them. More vines climb between your thighs and begin to prod at your finger-fucked cunt.
“Oh, yesss,” you moan. “Fuck me.”
You slump backwards and your body is caught and supported by a web of vines. They wrap under your arms, coiling and cinching around your breasts and rubbing feathery-soft tips against your nipples. These soft tips tickle against your anus, brush your clit, and push in a wriggling bundle into your hungry cunt. You flop your arms back as they are wrapped tightly in vines. The pleasure whip wraps around your throat and pushes tickling tips into your mouth.
It only takes a few minutes for your naked flesh to disappear into the writhing mass of vines. Darkness closes in around you, but the pleasure only intensifies. You feel yourself being dragged into the fountain. You float, bound in vines, in the stagnant water. Fibrous tentacles push into your ass and fuck in and out of your clutching cunt. You gurgle around the vines that violate the depths of your throat.
Your body arches in the fountain’s water, the vines wrapping your flesh creaking with your straining muscles. The orgasms are endless and intense, the sweet scent of the pleasure lash smothering you, and you no longer care. This is all that matters. No quest, no family, only the endless ecstasy of the vines.
This is all you need.
CONTINUE >
Surrender
Learning even a hint of the fate your mother and sister have suffered is enough to crush the last vestiges of hope remaining inside you. Marabelle’s smile spreads as she sees your shoulders slump and the defeat manifest on your face. She knows, almost before you do, that you have given up all hope of resisting.
“I yield,” you say softly, shame burning in your cheeks. “I have no hope in this cursed place.”
“Ohhhh,” Marabelle pouts sympathetically and saunters towards you, swinging her wide hips as she approaches. “It’s not so bad as all that, dear. You’re special. And since you’re being so cooperative, I think we can get along very nicely. You’ll be a good girl, right?”
“Y-yes,” you say, trembling and trying not to look at her swaying breasts or the lewd scene going on around you in the barn.
“Good girls get rewards,” she sweetly murmurs as her hand caresses your shoulder. “You won’t be needing these.”
Marabelle unbuckles your pistol belt and your sword belt. Both thump to the floor at your feet. Her hands caress your hips, sliding slowly up to your breasts as she steps behind you. Her hands cup your soft mounds through your bodice and she leans her head over your shoulder.
“Look at them,” she says. “Fed, happy, and safe. Providing for this wonderful new world with their delicious milk. It is a peaceful life here. One of simple pleasures.”
She plucks at your hard nipples as she speaks the last word, pinching them and causing you to cry out as a pulse of pleasure reaches to your clit. You are completely at her mercy now and you know there is no point in resisting her touch.
“I have something very special for you, Penny.” Her breath caresses your neck. “My cows rarely receive such a treat.”
“W-what is it?” You ask.
Her hands move from your breasts to your hips. She gathers your skirt up, pulling it up your shapely thighs and exposing your underwear. She pushes you with a hand on your back and you press forward against the gate of one of the stalls. You grab the wooden crossbar, watching the blank-faced blonde in the stall shuddering with pleasure and moaning as the milkers pump at her dangling tits. The sight of the brainwashed blonde being fucked with the dildo as her huge tits are milked sends a new thrill of lust through your body.
“Yes, it is a beautiful sight,” agrees Marabelle. She kisses your shoulder and moves behind you. Her hands trail from your hips around to your buttocks. She draws your underwear down roughly from your jiggling rear and smacks a warm kiss on one of your cheeks. You try to stand up, to escape this embarrassing position, but Marabelle shoves you forward against the gate. “Stop resisting my hospitality.”
Her hospitality is warm and soft against your thighs. Her hands fondle your bottom and spread your cheeks as her lips move towards the juicy heat of your cunt.
“I’ll remove this fur of course,” she says, nuzzling against your tufted mound. “But for now, it smells strongly of your lust. I think I like it.”
She inhales deeply. You whimper, humiliated but excited by what she is doing. Her hot tongue lashes your slit and you jerk with surprise. She licks again and again, slow, long licks from end to end of your cunt and continuing higher, to flick lightly against your anus. You clench tight and let out a surprised cry.
“Oh, you’re a shy girl,” she chuckles. “I think you’ll like it when I am sucking on your clit.”
She presses her face against your ass and begins licking and sucking at the dewy folds of your sex. She moans something about your nectar being as sweet as honey, but it is hard to hear her muffled voice as it vibrates against your pussy.
You lock eyes with the doe-eyed blonde cow in the stall. Her lips form into a bovine moan that seems to match your own pleasure. Marabelle sucks at the throbbing bud of your clit, driving you into an ecstasy you have never known before. Her moans of lust vibrate through your body. Her fingers invade your sex and spread it wide even as your climax ripples around her thrusting fingers.
“Oh, gods,” you moan, knowing they will offer you no aid in this moment. You have given yourself to the witch, surrendering your fate to her whim.
As you slowly recover from your orgasm, Marabelle stands and allows your skirt to drop back over your thighs. She takes your hand, a smile quirking her full lips as she leads you out of the barn and back into the cottage.
“Not the barn for you, dear,” she says, caressing your face and sitting you on the bed. “I need someone to keep me company. Help with some chores in the house. Carry my seed. Can you do that?”
You nod, in a daze from the pleasure she
gave you with her tongue.
“Good,” she coos softly. “I have something very special I want you to taste. But first, have some of my sweet milk to relax yourself.”
You do not resist her as she draws her head to her huge breasts. She guides a fat nipple to your mouth and you suck. Immediately, your mouth is filled with the sweet, warm milk that flows urgently from her nipples. The lightest suction produces plentiful gushes. You look up at her adoringly as the milk fills you with a sense of calm and contentment.
Marabelle cradles you with one arm and draws her skirt up with the other. You look down to see the fleshy folds of her hairless cunt and strange runes tattooed on the mound above her sex. She pushes two fingers into her glistening cunt and the runes begin to glow a red so dark they seem to be black.
Her clit begins to swell. It grows out from the hood of her sex like a finger reaching out. Even with your mind lulled by Marabelle’s sweet milk, you pop your lips free from her nipple to cry out in surprise.
“Yes,” she says, stroking your head. “It’s for you.”
It grows larger and larger, lengthening and thickening. The shape of it begins to change and you realize it is becoming a penis. It has a flattened tip like a horse’s or a bull’s. It continues to grow larger and thicker, darkening in color until it is as long as your forearm and as thick as your wrist. It is still growing. You moan as it rises until it is every bit as large as a bull’s cock. A milky liquid oozes from the slit at the tip. A distinctive male musk with a faint, bestial aroma wafts from the dusky cockflesh.
“Taste it, my sweet. The milk of my cock is even more delicious than the milk that flows from my breasts.”
You cannot resist her urging hand, not that you have any desire to try. You touch her warm flesh with your hands, stroking it and admiring it as you lean down and run your tongue over the flat tip. The salty-sweetness is a contrast to the cream of her breasts, but there is a similar note to the flavor. A forbidden nuttiness that makes it all the more delicious.
You moan loudly as your mouth descends onto her cock. It seems impossible, but your mouth stretches to accommodate her bestial fucktool. You caress the shaft with both hands, slurping it and taking it deeper. Your mouth is open wide around it. Your whole lower jaw seems to shift, but there is no pain, not even discomfort. You look up at her, eyes watering with happiness.
“That’s right, my sweet,” she says, urging you with her hand to take more of her cock into your mouth, “with my milk, anything is possible. You’ll find even this will fit down your hungry throat. Go on. Try it.”
You want to please her, desperately. You press the flat head of her cock to your throat and you swallow against it. The tip of her huge beastcock is as big as your fist. Tears spill from your eyes. Marabelle pushes your head down and the fist-sized tip of her cock pushes into your throat, stretching it like a lady’s stocking pulled over a yasaba melon. You can hardly breathe, but the way is now open and Marabelle grabs your hair and pulls you down onto her cock, stuffing inch after inch after inch into your throat.
“Mmmmmmnnnmmm!” You cry around her. Your neck bulges and her cock reaches so deep it feels as if it’s pressing against the entrance to your stomach.
“What a good girl,” she says and you feel pride swelling in your breast despite the fact that you’re afraid of suffocating. You push that fear back. You want mistress Marabelle to use your throat. To fuck your stretched mouth. To pump you full of her delicious cum.
Her hips jerk, her breasts jiggling and dribbling milk from her nipples as she thrusts her enormous cock into your mouth. You look up at her adoringly as her slippery meat stuffs your throat down to your tummy. You are nearly passing out from lack of oxygen, but you don’t care. All that matters is pleasing your beautiful mistress. The more of her juices the drip from her cock, the more affection you feel for her.
She moves your head up and down her cock as spit spills down her shaft in glistening trails. Her cock bends slightly as it pumps in and out. It seems to be swelling thicker by the moment and she is using your mouth more roughly.
“That’s it,” she cries. “That’s it, my sweet. A bit more… ahhhhh! What a good girl!”
Her cock throbs powerfully in your throat and you feel a sudden pressure and a growing fullness in your belly. You realize she must be pumping great quantities of her seed straight into your stomach. You swallow against her flexing pillar, tongue wiggling pitifully to give her any extra bit of pleasure. As her cum fills your belly, your mind is swallowed up in a creamy sea of love. You can hardly think of anything other than your adoration for Marabelle.
You have surrendered to her, body and mind, and she intends to reap the rewards.
CONTINUE >
Magic
“I might be willing to bow down to you,” you say, smirking slightly.
“A wise choice, human,” says the queen bee with an arrogant tilt to her head. “On your knees then.”
“Of course,” you say, getting down on your knees. As you do, you splay your fingers in a casting posture. The self-proclaimed queen of the garden is too busy gloating over your submission to realize you are about to cast a spell.
“Bow your head,” she commands sternly.
Instead, you look her in her compound eyes and speak the words of a powerful slow spell. It is one of the few spells you have practiced casting during your time in Akrane. You liked to use it to slow down the raindrops and watch them drop gradually to the ground. She has just enough time to realize that you are using magic before you cast the spell.
Her face twists in anger and she lunges at you with her stinger. Slowly. Very, very slowly. Her previously buzzing wings are beating at the speed of a light wind flapping a banner and her huge insect abdomen is curling for a strike so slowly that you can barely see it moving unless you stare. Her expression is shifting from anger to a scream of rage.
Now that she is caught up in the spell, which can last anywhere from hours to minutes depending on the size of the slowdown, she seems drained of any menace.
You walk slowly around her in a circle, admiring the plump pertness of her breasts, her brown nipples, her muscular human stomach and her toned legs. Stepping close to her you detect a strong musk that is not very pleasant, almost like unwashed, sweaty clothing, but it is somehow exciting. It makes you want to touch her and even bow down to her despite her predicament.
“Not going to work on me like that,” you chuckle, moving your face close to hers. You let your lips brush against her snarling mouth and feel her hard nipples rubbing against your chest.
Of course, nothing she could do would stop you from having a bit more fun. She is rather beautiful in her strange way. After every creature you’ve met has sought to take advantage of your weakness, what is so wrong with taking advantage of this monstrous woman who tried to enslave you? Well, truth be told, a lot is wrong with that and you know it well, but this musk she is exuding is driving you wild.
Her impotent rage somehow makes her even more beautiful. You want to caress her and taste her and explore her body. She might not even know that you’ve had your way with her.
Then again, your rational mind is screaming at you to seize your opportunity to escape and get out of the queen bee’s presence. Her honeycomb is not so high that you cannot scale your way over it with her incapacitated by your slow spell. It’s what Kara or your Mother would do, not give in to your passing desire for this beautiful creature.
What do you do?
Take advantage of the bee girl
Take your opportunity to escape
Magic
You quickly gather yourself for a spell. A fireball will make short work of the monster. Magic crawls over your fingers as you murmur the words. Power fills you, glows within you.
But the centaur quickly realizes what you’re doing. He charges, barreling down on you with all four legs. Too fast! You scramble to finish the spell but are too late! His twisted hands grab you, tearing you from your feet. He slams you again
st a waiting tree, driving the breath from your lungs, breaking your concentration and sending the words of the spell spinning from your thoughts.
“Clever little filly. But I am no fool!” His eyes glow and you scream as vines fall across you, clutching your body like tentacles. Your scream peters off into a shaking moan as the bloated vines crawl beneath your shirt and skirt, spreading their thick sap across your skin. You struggle but the vines are too pliant to accomplish much.
The centaur snorts in satisfaction and releases you, letting the veins support your full weight. He looks on in satisfaction as the vines continue to crawl across your skin. With casual contempt he tears off your skirt and underwear away, ignoring the way you flinch.
“Hmmm. There we are,” he murmurs as he examines your cunt. You flush beneath his appraising eyes. “A fine specimen. Yes. You will do to bear my young.”
“Wh-what! I will-“
“Quiet. The prey has no say in the way the predator feasts on it.” As if to prove his point, he rips open your shirt and grabs your heaving breasts.
You arch, gasping as jolts of pleasure shoot through you. The centaur grunts, fondling your pillowy mounds appreciatively. “Very fine,” he murmurs. “Our foals will grow strong on your milk.” Before you can formulate an answer he leans forward and latches onto a rigid nipple.
“O-oooh,” you moan, quivering with helpless pleasure as he sucks at your teat. Your blood pumps with arousal as the vines continue their lurid embrace, clutching your shapely body with their vines.
Then, you feel their slimy touch upon your thighs.
You twitch, pulling away as they creep towards your flowering lower lips. “N-no! Please! I-ooooh!” You quiver as the bulbous tip of a vine slides past your lust wetted folds, its sap tingling against your swollen cunt and into your clutching channel.
Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust Page 40
