“Of course, Kara,” you say, supporting her on your shoulder as you search for the exit from the manor. The force of the exploding mirrors has apparently cleared enough dust that faint rays of pale moonlight trickle through leaf-blown skylights high above. By their wan illumination, you find a heavy wooden door at the back of the huge room. The door is jammed shut, but a magical ram spell smashes it open and you and your sister stagger out of the cursed manor and into swirling leaves and a moonlit path.
“Here,” you say, helping her to sit beneath a tree. “Let us rest here for a bit. I have some food and water. I’ll make a fire.”
Kara looks at you gratefully as you begin to build the fire.
CONTINUE >
The wanderer’s mother
The path through the brambles winds this way and that, twisting and sometimes forcing you to double back and follow a different turn. It is a maze, whether by nature or by intent and you are very nearly lost in it. Each time you glimpse the manor house over the tops of the hedgerows it seems no closer.
You have been running so hard and so long through this damned maze that you have pushed yourself to the point of exhaustion. You realize you are at your limit when you almost topple over taking a turn. You double over to catch your breath. You sip from a small flask of water to quench your thirst. You consider taking out your family codex and searching for a spell that might aid your escape from the garden maze. Before you can pull out the massive tome, a bit of movement catches your eye.
A woman staggers past a turn in the path through the brambles. Her legs are stark white that blends into the pale lavender skin of her hips. The lavender reaches all the way up to her face, but her hair is fluffy blonde-green and seems more like lacy parsley than human hair. She continues down a path you had not noticed before, apparently not seeing you.
“Hey, wait,” you call out. You rise to your feet and give chase. You see her slender figure disappearing around another turn, her buttocks half creamy white and half that pale shade of lavender. Her gait is awkward, as if her joints barely work. You catch up to her, catching a whiff of a sweet, floral perfume in the air. It is a lovely scent, arousing, but it does not control your mind like the pleasure whip’s flower.
You follow the staggering woman into another clearing. You are surprised to see a bed of beautiful violet flowers and a huge clamshell pod with a dark purple outer skin and a soft, lavender inner flesh. It yawns open big enough to swallow up a human in a fetal position. Several other pods nearby are closed and seem to faintly throb with some sort of life.
“What is that?” You whisper, recalling nothing similar within the family’s codex.
You are staring so intently at the glistening, fleshy interior of the open pod that you fail to notice the woman you have been following turn around. A second woman steps beside her. They are both quite beautiful, with shapely lavender breasts despite their slender bodies. Their wide areolas and hard nipples are a shade of violet to match the flowers. Each nipple leaks a thin, honey-like liquid. This same fluid seems to drool from their mouths and drip down their inner thighs.
The two women stare at you with white eyes in their slack faces. They part their lips and moan softly in unison.
“Uh, hello?” You say, feeling a thrill of fear and desire intertwined.
“Hello,” they say in unison in the same flat tone. They stagger towards you and begin to awkwardly caress your body. They pull gently at your bodice and seem to be trying to undress you. One of them manages to fumble her fingers into an opening in your bodice. The other takes your hands and pulls you towards the pod. Their soft, beautiful bodies and their sweet scent are exciting you.
“Hey, um, couldn’t we talk about this?” You say, watching in disbelief as the one fumbling with your bodice manages to get it open. She immediately begins to lick and suck at your titflesh. It takes her several tries of smearing her amber nectar over your creamy breast with her tongue before she finds your nipple and begins to suck urgently at it. You stumble closer to the pod as pleasure shoots through your body.
“Oh, that feels good, but, um, maybe we should stop,” you say, finally managing to push her face away from your breast. Your creamy mound is dripping with her strange nectar. You have a sudden urge to dip a finger into it and taste it.
“If it feels good,” says the girl pulling at your hands, “we should keep doing it.”
“Yes, give us kisses,” says the other, wiggling her nectar-coated tongue at you and smearing the syrupy liquid across her lips.
Maybe you should wait and see what these women want or try to reason with them. They don't seem violent or hostile, just very forward and touchy-feely.
What do you do?
Wait
Parley
Attack
Magic
Surrender
Parley
You hold out a hand to Alyssa to keep her at bay and step cautiously towards your mother. You gaze up into her golden eyes and search for some remnant of the woman who raised you and has battled monsters her entire life.
“Please,” you say. “I do not want to fight you, mother. This can be settled. We can stop this and be together and we can all go back to—“
Your mother lashes out so quickly that you barely even see her move. Magic force fires from her fingertips and strikes Alyssa, slamming the succubus back into the ground with such force it breaks ancient tiles and sends her skidding across the floor, creating a path of shattered tiles. The succubus slowly lifts her head, her eyes blazing, and your mother conjures a glowing violet prison around the demoness. Alyssa tries to push the dome of bars away and wails as her hand is burned by the malevolent magic.
“No, mother, no!” You cry, stepping between the imprisoned succubus and your mother.
“I will not treat with you while that vile creature draws breath,” snarls your mother, looming menacingly above you. “I will send her back to where she belongs and then I will explain to you your place in the Glory of Zhibbareth.”
You take another step towards your mother and slowly place your hands on her legs. She looks down at you, her massive breasts heaving with her anger and her mother’s milk trickling from her swollen nipples. You try not to look at her cunt and the symbol of her blessing that pulses brightly atop her mound, though both are at eye-level with you. You can even smell a hint of the spicy musk of her cunt in the air and you are disturbed by how this excites you.
Pushing away such depraved thoughts, you gaze up once more into your mother’s golden eyes.
“Please, mother,” you say softly. “We have both devoted our lives to protecting mankind.”
Your mother bends over you, her huge breasts dangling almost into your face and showering you with warm droplets of her milk. You shield your eyes from the splatter, but force yourself to gaze up at her oversized face.
“It was a mistake,” her voice rumbles aloud and in your mind. “Humans devour the natural world and torment the beasts. We huntresses have slaughtered the monsters that the gods created to populate this world. Zhibbareth offers us a better way.”
“What is that way?” You ask. “To rape monsters into the bellies of every fertile woman and slaughter or enslave the men?”
“You doubt him?” Anger flares in her eyes.
“I only… I want to know why you love him so much,” you say, choosing your words carefully.
“When monsters and humans are together and the human race is no more, we will have peace and happiness upon this earth. Most of the cities will return to nature and the empires of man will be forgotten. But some of mankind will live on, because the monsters will take us with them on this path. The children of humans and monsters will populate the world. Do you see? A merging of mankind and monster! Zhibbareth means to save humanity from itself!”
That insane smile spreads across your mother’s face once more. She lifts you up into her arms suddenly, holding your legs mashed against her enormous breasts so she can look closely into your eyes. You f
eel like a small child in her grasp.
Of course, you see the madness in what she is saying. The unified paradise she speaks of is a lie. The monsters are brutally breeding with human women, enslaving them, and producing more monsters. Once the humans are all swallowed up by this ruthless process the monsters will simply turn on each other. Unless Zhibbareth is truly so powerful that he can enslave all monsters. Such power only makes him more terrifying.
Tears well in your mother’s eyes. You sense that some part of her remains inside that evil-warped beauty.
“We must protect mankind from monsters,” you say softly but firmly.
Her smile fades. “Why do you persist, daughter?”
“You raised me that way,” you say.
She scoffs, tears slowly dropping from each of her huge golden eyes. She seems about to say something else and she bites her lower lip. She looks away and when her gaze returns to yours you sense her probing your mind.
“Why did you come here, Penny?” She asks, her question rippling through your mind.
You know you must answer her very carefully. Everything may depend upon it.
Why did you do it?
For mankind
For your mother
For love
Magic
Magic is your only chance against these odds! You splay your fingers in casting posture and begin the chant of a powerful stun spell. You should be able to knock over the succubus and all of her bird-headed warriors with a single blast. She smirks at you as she watches you chanting. The guards close in around you, but Alyssa holds up her hand to stop them from striking. You are not certain why she is giving you time to finish your incantation, but you will not squander the opportunity.
With a last shout of power words, you thrust your splayed fingers forward. The wave of force you expect does not manifest. You turn your hand over and look at your fingers. You did not feel even the faint tingle of a miscast spell. It is as if your connection to the magical realm has been severed.
“Silly girl,” laughs Alyssa, stalking closer. “Your magic will not work here. I created this place. I set the rules. Now, why don’t you stay here a while?”
You try to lash out at her with your fist, but the succubus catches it in her hand. Her strength is incredible. She bends your arm down to your side and grabs your other wrist, pinning it to your side as well.
“You must let me go! I am a herald of—“
“The Great One? Not so great here, I’m afraid.” She leans closer. You try to turn away from her, but her bright, violet eyes mesmerize you. The resistance melts from your body. You lose your will to fight her in those beautiful, glowing violet eyes. “My magic is all-powerful, though, little huntress. Oh, yes, I know what you really are. A delicious morsel for me.”
Fear punctures the spell cast by her hypnotic eyes. Before you can cry out or try to fight back, she presses her soft lips to yours. Her mouth opens and her tongue probes your lips apart. You taste the sweetness of her kiss, the intense pleasure that only the lips of a succubus could impart. You moan against her, once more at her mercy, and she begins to feed.
Pleasure like none you have experienced before shudders through your body. It is as if she is reaching into you and pulling an orgasm out through your parted lips. Your body spasms in her embrace, you jerk and whimper as she drinks your life essence. The more she consumes, the more pleasure you feel. You twitch in her grasp as she sucks the soul from your body, draining every drop of your essence.
You feel the husk of your lifeless body drop away. You are freed and reborn. You emerge with new eyes and new purpose from a pulsing violet heart within a strange cave. Alyssa is there to greet you.
“Your new life begins, my sweet Penelope,” she says, taking your hand. Lingerie wraps your ample curves. You feel a throbbing lust that surges at Alyssa’s touch. “You will serve my customers here in my brothel for all of eternity. You belong to me.”
“Yes, mistress,” you say, smiling gladly. The thought of serving Alyssa and the customers are all that matters to you now. Your quest, the Great One, and your mother have all been forgotten.
Your life has been consumed by the succubus. You are now, and will forever be, a whore in the Palace of Crimson Silk.
CONTINUE >
Pleasure the goat
You lift your gaze from the bone on the floor and back to that magnificent cock dangling right in front of your face. You admire the well-defined ridge of the glans and admire the fat slit leaking the goat’s musky juice in long, viscous strands. How could you think of anything other than worshipping this fleshy altar of depravity?
You reach both hands out and gently cradle the plum-sized head of the goat’s cock as if you are cupping the face of a lover. You lift if up to your face and kiss it sweetly. Your lips gather a tiny bit of his leaking juice and you lick it clean, tasting the bestial richness of his nectar. You shudder with desire and look up at his glorious, muscular, fur-covered body. Your tongue travels around the bulge of his cockhead and your hands slip upwards to begin stroking his enormous shaft.
“That’s it, my sweet girl,” says the goat’s sensual voice in your head. “Show me your devotion. Show it all to me.”
You press your soft lips to the head of the goat’s cock, opening your mouth to him, taking him deeper and stretching your lips around him. You moan as the sweet juice that flows from his cock begins to pour into your mouth. It is thin and slippery and slides easily down your throat each time you swallow. The more you taste it, the hotter you get. You relinquish one hand grip on the goat’s hot cockshaft and push it between your thighs. You whine around his cock, sucking him as you begin to pump fingers into your steamy pussy.
“Yes, enjoy it. Pleasure yourself while you worship.” The goat’s voice urges you to new heights of desire. You whine around his cock, slurping his tip and bobbing your lips on his as you fuck yourself with three fingers. Drool spills down your chin and splashes your heaving breasts.
You try to fit as much as you can of the goat’s magnificent cock into your mouth, but you can barely fit more than the throbbing tip past your lips. It’s much too big to fit in your throat. Feeling inadequate, you throw your whole body at the problem. You rise to your feet and cradle the huge cock against your breasts, stroking his tip with one hand as you lick his juice-smeared shaft. Your breasts spread around his shaft and you ride up and down his cock, keeping his upright phallus squeezed between your breasts the whole time. Your hand spreads his spilling juice all over his fat cockhead and your other hand rubs at your clit.
The goat’s voice in your head encourages you. “Rub your soft body against me, huntress. Soon I will mark you as my bride and your womb will be filled with my seed.”
“Yessss!” You cry with desire. “Yes! I want to be your bride.”
You hear laughter and moans from the women all around you. When you entered the temple, you saw inbred, degenerate women wallowing in filth and covered in semen. Now you see erotic angels cooing and caressing their own bodies as they admire their handsome master. Your pleasure rises as you tongue his cock and squeeze it between your tits. You cry out sharply, bucking your hips against your fingers.
A hot wave of sympathetic pleasure invades your mind. You can feel the goat cumming before his cock begins to throb. You know you have served him well as his huge pillar of cockmeat geysers from between your breasts. A spurting fountain of milky white launches skywards and descends, splashing your face, shoulders, hair, and breasts with hot cum. You open your mouth wide and catch some of the salty spunk. You gulp it down and smear more into your mouth. The taste of it drives your pleasure, orgasms overlapping and powerful spasms wracking your body.
The goat drenches you in his bestial seed, a briny baptismal to induct you into his personal religion. You flop back onto the dirty floor, writhing in the semen-spattered filth and fucking yourself with your fingers. The goat chuckles in your mind and turns you onto your belly with one hand. The sharp nail at the tip of one of hi
s index fingers draws a complex shape on your left buttock. There is a violet flash of light forming the shape of a magical rune. It fades into a curlicue symbol that vibrates against your skin.
“Arise, my beauty,” says the goat. “You are one of my brides now. Your body is ready for your sacrament.”
You lift your head and smile dreamily. The goat’s huge cock stands at attention, ready to invade your tender cunt.
“Yes,” you moan, writhing on the ground with your legs spread wide. “Please, master, give me the sacrament. Fill my fertile body with your seed!”
CONTINUE >
The solitary farm
You move deeper into the shadow choked forest, but it is not long before the space between your shoulders prickles with the creeping feeling that you are being watched. You glance furtively among the trees. You finger your flintlock nervously as you watch the shadows. The strange miasma which chokes the island wreaths the forest like a mist and muffles every noise. It is as if the air itself is trying to hinder you. The island has shown you too many horrors already for you to believe that it is only your imagination.
As you advance you draw one of your flintlock pistols. The hard wood of the stock feels comforting in your hand; a ward against the grimness of your surroundings. Your skirt swishes in the silence and your kirana slaps your plump thigh as you move.
Something stirs the leaves behind you and you whip your head about. You catch a brief glimpse of four glowing yellow eyes. A hulking shape of deeper darkness is moving through the mist. It is gone before you can raise your pistol, not that you think you could have hit it.
The silence descends again, but now laden with menace. You feel the fear of the prey choke you as you watch the darkness. You hear a growl like a wolf, but deeper. The sound seems to come from almost every direction.
Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust Page 51
