Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  The beast’s cock rubs the length of your quim, smearing its juices and sending a hot thrill through your body. It would be so easy to simply stop fighting and let it happen. To be bred by this savage creature.

  What do you do?

  Submit to the beast's desires

  Free your hand and shoot the beast

  The three huntresses of Ctharne

  It has been two years since you, your mother, your sister, and Orsen Castillo embraced upon the southern shores of Ctharne. You mother, smaller now, but still two feet taller than you or your sister, has led you in transforming a sheltered bay of Ctharne into the modest settlement of Huntress’s Cove. It is a small, but bustling port and fishing village where the human survivors on Ctharne live in thatched dugout shelters and farmsteads built from banyan wood.

  You call this small village your home now and live in the wooden great hall that overlooks the bay from a defensive position. You lack many of the niceties of life in Akrane, but you have a down-stuffed bed and, thanks to an imported brass filter-pump, clean water. The roaring hearth of the hall warms you at night. You have a collection of rare books, some of them acquired from the merchant Boggen Luckfen, who now makes regular visits to Huntress’s Cove.

  Through the bottle-glass window you can see Luckfen’s flagship, The Torrid Harlot, gently bobbing in the cove. It dwarfs the Zephyr, which gently rises and falls beside it with the sheltered waves.

  Several ancient tomes lie scattered across your desk in the study of the great hall, the books opened to diagrams of protective magic and dire prophecies about a gertling star child being born to lead their people to conquest. Within one particular book, volume XXXI of the “Diablorus Codices,” you have discovered indications that it might be possible to call upon the gods of the deep for a surprise attack upon the monsters that have gathered in the north of Ctharne.

  You collect the papers related to the ritual that would allow you and your small army of huntresses to travel beneath the water and emerge in the north. Unfortunately, your information is incomplete. You must find more volumes of the Diablorus Codices to complete the spell. For that, you must confer with your mother, as it will be no small expense. You hasten out the door and make your way through the dirt paths among the dugouts and wooden shacks. You nod to the junior huntresses and townsfolk who greet you happily.

  Your mother’s private home is perhaps the nicest in the village, surrounded by a stone wall and with a small second floor above the first. The summer’s training of the new recruits is complete and Hilda has been spending quite a lot of time in the cabin. You raise your hand to rap your knuckles against the door and a moan of pleasure stops you short.

  “Ohhhh, Hilda,” you hear a man groan.

  “You like that?” Your mother’s amused voice drifts out. “Wait until I do this…”

  “Ohhhhhh, gods,” cries the man. His voice sounds very familiar. It’s not Boggen, who your mother finds unfairly repulsive, so that must mean…

  You carefully turn the brass knob and gently push the door open. Orsen and your mother have not bothered to retreat to a bedroom. Right there, in her sitting room, your mother is riding vigorously atop the handsome captain, her huge tits heaving against his face. She works her hips, her round ass clenching as her slick cunt devours his straining cock.

  “Suck them,” she cries, pulling his face against her breasts. Orsen, battered by her soft mounds, does his best. His tongue seeks out a nipple and he latches to her, for a moment, drawing on her thick teat before her motion carries her jiggling mound out of reach. She pants, “Yes, that’s it! That’s it! Ahhhhhh, fuuuuuuoooooo!”

  She exhales, blowing a lock of white hair out of her face, arching atop him as she cums, hard on Orsen’s rigid cock. He grabs at her pale assflesh and thrusts up and into her pussy. You can see his hard cock twitching as he pumps Hilda full of his seed.

  “You’re amazing, Hilda,” laughs Orsen, his thrusts stopping and his hands slowly sliding up from her hips to fondle her enormous breasts. She is still a giantess, making Orsen seem tiny, but if he is in any discomfort it certainly isn’t showing on his handsome, grinning face.

  “Oh, you’re not done yet,” says your mother twisting atop him and reaching a hand down towards his bollocks. “Once I put a finger up your bottom, you’ll be hard as stone!”

  You cover your mouth to keep from laughing and quietly step back from the door. The last thing you want to do is interrupt your mother shoving a finger up Orsen Castillo’s ass. You would rather fight a monster. Or talk strategy with Kara.

  You find your sister in the Saltwife’s Sorrow, one of several makeshift taverns that have cropped up along the growing docks at the edge of the village. Sailors and fishermen drink imported spirits and the cheap ale that the huntresses brew in their downtime. A huddle of men cheer as you enter, but their attention is focused on the back of the bar where Kara has just defeated her latest challenger.

  “Anybody else?” She asks, flexing her impressive bicep and scooping up the coins from the table. Her opponent, a beefy man with a shorn head, cradles his elbow as if it might be broken.

  “Tests of strength again, Kara?” You call from the back of the bar.

  The crowd breaks up, the men eyeing you appreciatively as they scatter to separate tables or head to the bar to order fresh drinks. They know by your reputation not to approach you. Kara’s display of strength probably didn’t hurt for scaring away lewd comments.

  “What brings you to the seedier part of town?” Kara asks, motioning for the barmaid to pour her some ale.

  “I think I’ve found something that can help us assault the monster kingdom,” you say, pulling out your notes. Kara snatches them out of your hand and squints at them over her mug of ale. You have to take them from her and turn them over.

  “Monster kingdom? Those orcs and gertlings we ran off?”

  “They’ve declared themselves the ‘Lost Sons of Zhibbareth’ and they have shamans and military commanders.” You’ve gone over this all before with Kara. Her idea of a plan of attack is to get all of the huntresses together and storm the so-called Monster Kingdom.

  “They’re orcs. And gertlings. We’ve killed dozens of those already. Things much worse than that.”

  “They’re organized and ready for us,” you say. “They have magic. We have to take this seriously. But I have a plan of attack.”

  She passes your notes back to you. “This doesn’t make sense to me. What is it?”

  “It’s called Delve the Depths,” you explain. “It’s a powerful ritual that would allow us to travel in a pocket of air underwater and emerge on the northern shores. Lila and Kora have already scouted a cove that will allow us to sneak into their fort.”

  “They have a fort now?” She rolls her eyes. “What did mother say about your plan?”

  “Mother was, er, busy,” you say. “But this will work. I just need the money to buy some books from Luckfen to get the list of reagents and the semantic portion of the ritual. I already have—“

  Kara holds up her hand. You think she is going to say something, but she belches and then motions for you to continue. You sigh and get to the point, “I need six hundred golden zeks. Maybe five if I can talk him down.”

  “Six?!” She bugs her eyes out. “I don’t care about money, sister, but mother watches the coffers and she’ll not have you spending that sort of coin on a book.”

  “Two books,” you point out. “I need volumes XXX and XXXII. Now, if I can get him the money while he is in port, he can sail to Heimsvak and be back within a fortnight. Then, unless there are particularly rare components to the—“

  “Forget it,” says Kara. “We’re saving for cannons to protect the harbor. You said you wanted to see this little town grow into a proper port city. That’s what it will take.”

  “We have to finish off the orcs and gertlings before the trade guilds will move to a place like Ctharne,” you counter.

  “The answer is ‘no’, Penny. I’
m sorry. You’ll have to find some other spell. Something cheaper.”

  You decide not to throw the fact that you saved Kara and your mother into their faces. It only took a few months for them to stop being deferential to you and return to the old routines where you are their scribe and researcher. Even going with them on hunts and proving you are a better spell caster than even mother has not dramatically changed the dynamic.

  As you step out of the tavern, you spot the masts of Boggen Luckfen’s ship in the bay. The Torrid Harlot is a stately white ship, three masts, with a central stack and a paddlewheel that allows it to function under steam power. It is a marvelous vessel, as fine as any you have seen, and certainly out of place surrounded by fishing boats and small trade sloops.

  Instead of heading back to the great hall to heed Kara’s advice to research a cheaper solution, you head down to the docks. An olive-skinned man from Shaddobar stands guard over the gangplank that leads from the dock up to the Torrid Harlot. As you approach, the guard draws to attention.

  “Lady Helsdottir,” he says loudly.

  “Hardly a lady,” you say with a blush.

  He remains at rigid attention and says, “Master Luckfen has told me to watch for you to arrive. You are welcome aboard.”

  “Well then, I suppose I shouldn’t keep him waiting,” you say, smoothing your red gown and curling your mostly-white hair behind your ears.

  You spoke with Luckfen earlier in the day. He was as plump and pompous as ever, charming you with casks of rare wine and a protean jelly recovered by his agents from a shipwreck. You paid him most of your personal wealth for the books he brought to you, including the XXXIst volume of the Diablorus Codices.

  You climb the gangplank and onto the gently swaying ship. The deck is bustling with activity as the crew finishes taking on provisions and securing the cargo – mostly rare crustaceans bought from the fishermen – for travel back to the mainland. A few sailors give you passing glances, but these are not the scurvy dogs who crew most trade ships. Luckfen’s men are disciplined and wearing proper uniforms like naval crewmen. One of them directs you back to the house-like structure rising from the back of the ship.

  Another guard protects the door, but he stands to attention and opens the door as you approach. You leave the bustle of the deck for the quiet cabin, lusciously appointed in darkwood and lit by gas torches. Framed paintings of cities and countrysides seem intended as a contrast to the ocean views Luckfen must usually see on his travels. You are in a hallway. There is a small, closed door to your left and another to your right, but you continue down the hallway to the open door.

  You enter a small, but plushly appointed office brightened by a many-paned window that looks out upon the gentle harbor. Boggen Luckfen lifts his gaze from reading a book and grins.

  “Penny! I had hoped you might come to visit me before I depart.” He rises from behind his book-piled desk and hurries around to me. He has certainly missed no meals over the past few years, though he wears his girth well with his fine robe and heavy amulet of trade. What to some might seem a certain unpleasant roundness to his face has come to strike you as a sort of fatherly, perhaps even grandfatherly, patrician handsomeness. He takes your hands and kisses them both. “Why have you brightened this gloomy office with your radiant presence?”

  Before you can answer he says, “It’s about a book, isn’t it? I must confess when you purchased the XXXIst volume of the Diablorus Codices from me, I suspected you might crave more.”

  “You did?”

  “Oh, yes,” says Luckfen, turning to his desk. “I had hoped you might even decide to make an offer to hire me for another search of the great libraries. In which case, I could surprise you with this.”

  He lifts a small stack of ancient books from his desk and thumps them down on the seat of one of the high-backed chairs. Your eyes widen as you realize he has a half-dozen volumes of the Diablorus Codices, including the two books you require.

  “Worth the expense just to see that look of surprise on your face,” chuckles Luckfen. “They are, of course, for sale to my favorite customer.”

  “Ah.” You purse your lips and take a step back from the valuable books. “That is the matter I came to discuss. The price for two books of this sort, the two I need desperately, would be prohibitive.”

  “I have cut my profits to the bone with you, sweet Penny,” says Luckfen. “I hardly make a zek on every transaction, such is the expense of securing these books.”

  You take a deep breath and ask yourself, “What would my mother do?”

  Your smile returns as you look into Luckfen’s eyes. You take a step closer to him, reaching out for his hands. He reacts with surprise, but not displeasure, as you step closer and let the soft weight of your breasts press against him.

  “Boggen,” you say, leaning your face very close to his and breathing the sandalwood of his masculine perfume. “There are commodities other than money that interest you, surely?”

  “Commodities? Penny, to say such a thing!” He reacts as if shocked. “I could not put a price on your affections.”

  “Oh, you couldn’t?” You scoff at him. “You seem to have a price in mind when we traveled from Akrane in that wagon. The only difference now is that I am more aware of my value.”

  You untie the neck of your red gown and look into his eyes as you slip it from your shoulders. You feel the soft material catch on your erect nipples, hang for a moment, and then slip free, dropping to the floor and revealing your pale and voluptuous body to him. A golden symbol of Allara hangs between your breasts.

  “Allara hangs in the valley,” says Luckfen, looking at the symbol. “Are you a huntress or priestess?”

  You finger the necklace as you gaze into his eyes. “Only a devotee of the goddess. She came to me when I needed her most.”

  “Like you coming to me today,” chuckles Luckfen, greedily drinking in the sight of your naked body. “But I do not believe you are only a huntress, Penny. I have seen the stone temple that is being built in the village. You spread her word.”

  “I am not a cleric, Boggen,” you say. “A priestess would not be doing this.”

  You step carefully out of your gown, wearing only your boots and your imported panties. That lacy underwear is something Luckfen has seen before; he imported several pairs for you on a recent visit.

  “My… my gods, you just get more beautiful, don’t you?” He murmurs, his eyes taking in your naked flesh. “I suppose any price would be worth it. Would you spend the day with me, Penny?”

  “As you asked me before?” You giggle softly, brushing your hair from your face. “If you provide me with the books I need.”

  Your nipples press against his chest. Your breasts squeeze and spread against his tunic. You lean your lips to his, brushing against them as you say, “Two books.”

  “All six,” he says. “But you will accommodate my every desire.”

  His hands caress your hips and reach around to your plump ass. He squeezes your cheeks, spreading you so the lace of your panties threads down your crack and over the tense wrinkle of your anus. The implication is clear.

  “Every desire,” you agree.

  Luckfen answer you with a powerful kiss. Though he seems a soft man, he is also a large one and his strength manifests in his desire. Your lips part to him in a moment and he explores your mouth with his deftly thrusting tongue. You gasp against him, your pussy aching at the thought of his cock. You reach your hand down his soft belly and beneath it, to fondle the growing bulge of his hardness. As your lips smack and you sigh into Luckfen’s hungry kiss, you slip your hand under his robe and begin to stroke his thick cock.

  “Down on your knees if you would, my dear,” he murmurs. “Give me a proper greeting.”

  “Of course,” you say with a smile, dropping to your knees as he opens his robe. His cock springs free of his loose fitting trousers. With an eagerness that comes as a bit of a surprise, you take hold of his reddish shaft and stuff the purple head
of his cock into your mouth. You moan around him as you suck. The creaking sounds of the ship at anchor compete with your moaning, slurping blowjob as you pleasure Boggen Luckfen’s rather impressive cock.

  Luckfen’s hands fall heavily on your shoulders. He squeezes them and lightly thrusts his hips against your stroking hand, pushing his fat cock further into your mouth. You moan around him, hollowing your cheeks and flicking your tongue against the salty sweetness flowing from his cockslit.

  “By the gods, you’re thirsty for it, aren’t you?” He chuckles.

  You pop your lips free and say, panting, “Yes. Cum for me, Boggen. Cum in my slut mouth.”

  The whorish words elicit a chuckle from the plump merchant and send a thrill racing up your quim. Your mouth descends on him once more and you suck eagerly, drawing his cock to twitching ecstasy. He groans loudly as you draw him over the edge. His cock jerks against your tongue and hot, thick seed spurts into your mouth. You swallow as it pours against your throat. You slow your bobbing lips and suck quite hard, urging out every slimy drop of his warm cream.

  Luckfen sags against the edge of his desk. You keep him in your mouth, licking him and gently suckling at his cock as he begins to soften.

  “I’m afraid it will take a bit to recover,” he laughs. He twists himself to the side and pours a drink from a crystal decanter. He tosses back the amber liquid and refills the glass. He offers it to you as you rise from your knees. You drink the Tarolian brandy in a gulp, washing away the salty-thickness of his cum. You kiss him lightly, sharing that sweet brandy flavor for a moment. Luckfen smiles, “There are certain things I can do while I am recovering.”

  “Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Shall I slip off this lovely lace underwear?”

  You turn and show off your bottom as you tease removing your panties. Luckfen grunts and gives your bum a smack that makes it jiggle. You cry, “Ah!” and dance away from him a step. Luckfen laughs, setting aside his drink glass and pursuing you across the small office.