CONTINUE >
Parley
You take a bold step towards the drider and hold your arms up. You hope the gesture is non-threatening, but also a bit grandiose, as you project your voice and try to speak with authority.
“I am a herald of the Great One who rules this island,” you say. “I am an emissary of his might, extending a hand of friendship to all creatures that might prey upon the humans.”
The drider opens and closes its mandibles and cocks its head to one side. It lowers its guard just a bit.
“You are a human,” it says in a voice that is surprisingly clear and smooth.
“I am not,” you counter, daring to take a step closer. “I am a herald, chosen and blessed by the Great One.”
“You look human. You smell human.” The drider’s nostrils flare. His red eyes flick to Alyssa. “She does not smell human. She is another thing from another place.”
Alyssa steps forward and says, “A demoness. A protector of the herald.”
He makes a sound that seems to be a scoff. He says to you, “Your protector was caught in my web. She is good only for food.”
“I have hundreds of slaves,” snaps Alyssa, edging closer to the drider as her eyes flare with violet magic. “I’ve tangled with demons much more dangerous than you.”
You step between them. “We are not here to battle with you, drider.”
“Then why do you come?” He says, hands tightening on his spear.
You take a deep breath. He is so inhuman the thought of touching him sexually is intimidating, but you know that even drider’s must mate.
“Pleasure,” you say. “We offer pleasure. You mate, do you not?”
“I breed with my own kind,” he says, but he lowers his guard. His tone is more curious than hostile.
“I do not see a mate with you,” observes Alyssa.
“My kind are rare, even since the awakening. She deposits her eggs in a human female and I fertilize those eggs.”
“But you fuck,” says Alyssa.
“Humans are only vessels for the act,” he says, his guard all the way down and his gaze moving back and forth between you and Alyssa.
“But you feel pleasure using one of those vessels,” you say, running a finger over your cleavage to draw his attention to your ample breasts.
“You… you offer yourselves as vessels?” He actually takes a step back in surprise. “I cannot mate without eggs.”
“We offer ourselves,” says Alyssa, winking at you. “Temporarily. For your pleasure.”
She rises slowly off the ground and up to an even level with the drider’s half-human face. She leans in and plants a kiss on his hideous mandibles. They open and almost seems to swallow up half of Alyssa’s beautiful face. She seems in no distress even as venom drips from the drider’s chin and onto the ground. His eyes close with pleasure and his legs flex as if he is woozy.
He pulls back, his expression dull and something pale pink growing from the underside of his black carapace. You step up onto a fallen tree and lean yourself against his human upper body. You kiss him as well and his mandibles close gently around your cheeks and chin as his black inner tongue swirls with your tongue. The taste of his venom is almost like lemons, so sour it is shocking, but you maintain the kiss and let the venom drip from your mouth. Despite the mismatch of your anatomy and his, the drider is actually quite a good kisser.
“Very well,” he groans. “For pleasure. Temporarily. I will mate with you, herald of the Great One. And your demoness.”
“Relax,” says Alyssa. “We will show you that sex can be so much better when the ‘vessel’ is willing.”
Her clothing melts away into smoke, revealing the exquisite beauty of her pale curves. She strokes his human abdomen down to this arachnid body. His quills press at her soft flesh. You shed your weapons, pack and jacket as Alyssa drops to her knees and begins kissing his abdomen and reaching beneath his body. You begin to remove your bodice, bra, skirt, and panties. The drider sucks in a surprised breath as Alyssa seems to find something sensitive beneath him.
“Oh, now there is a cock,” she giggles and you can tell by the way her arm is moving that she is wanking him.
“I will… ohhhh… mount you both,” moans the drider, shifting his legs and dancing strangely to thrust his cock at Alyssa’s stroking hand. “You will have my seed.”
“Oh, we want it,” you coo, joining Alyssa on your knees beside her. You kiss her and reach an under the drider’s bulky body, following Alyssa’s arm to a hand length of slippery flesh. You grip it, amazed at his length as you join her in stroking his cock. As your hands work in cooperation, you kiss and giggle and press your naked body against Alyssa. Her demonic warmth tingles into your flesh wherever you touch her.
“If you think our hands feel nice,” purrs Alyssa, "wait until you feel our mouths.”
You can’t help but giggle at the naughty succubus. She gets down on all fours and you join her, crawling beneath the drider. He puts his front set of legs up on a fallen tree to give you and Alyssa more room to crawl beneath him. The arachnid body is without quills and much smoother and softer along the underside. It is gray instead of black and between two segments of his abdomen extends a cock as thick as your dainty wrist and as long as your arm.
“Gods,” you murmur.
“By the Great One,” exclaims Alyssa, giving you another wink. “It’s huge.”
She cradles the drider’s immense length against her cleavage and he lets out another groan of pleasure. You press your body against it from the other side, squeezing his cock between you and Alyssa and continuing to massage it with your hands. You meet your succubus companion at the tip, which has no real head, just a tapered end with an opening that drips opaque white liquid. The smell is earthy, like an overturned rock crawling with beetles, but the hot, slippery throb of the drider’s cock is almost as exciting as Alyssa squirming against you.
“Oh, I must taste it,” coos Alyssa. “I’ve never sucked a drider’s cock before.”
Alyssa presses her soft lips to the head of the drider’s cock and with the skill of a succubus she takes him deep into her mouth in a single bob. The reaction is instantaneous. The drider groans loudly and begins to flex his abdomen and thrust into Alyssa’s mouth. The succubus’s eyes widen in surprise as she is mouth-fucked by the drider’s pink piston. You lean down and lick his cock as it slides past, tasting the strange oily liquid that coats his member.
“Oh, it’s so warm,” cries the drider. “Warmer than any vessel… sucking at me… ahhhhhhh!”
You feel the drider’s length jerk beneath your tongue. Alyssa makes a gurgling sound and you can tell by the working of her throat that she is swallowing great quantities of drider cum. He flexes his abdomen, thrusting in and out of her mouth as his milky cum begins to overflow Alyssa’s oval lips and drip onto the ground. You press your hand between your legs and play with your clit as you watch even the veteran succubus struggle to deal with the enormous quantity of driderspunk.
She finally pulls her mouth from him, gasping and smiling despite nearly drowning.
“Delicious,” she laughs.
“Give me a taste,” you say, thrusting your fingers into your slick cunt and beckoning her closer. She crawls over and thrusts her slime-covered tongue into your mouth, sharing the nutty and rather pleasant taste of the drider’s cum. Her lips are smeared with it and you even suck some from her chin and trade it back and forth in a steamy kiss as you fuck yourself with your fingers. Alyssa gives your nipples playful pinches and the shock is enough to send you over the edge. You thrust your hips, fucking against your fingers as you kiss your demonic companion.
“Oh, that was hot,” she says, her words steaming against your parted lips as you recover from your peak. You feel flushed and dazed with your perverse orgasm. You wonder what is happening to you for a moment, but Alyssa beautiful smile reminds you that you have a succubus for a companion. That can be blamed for all manner of debauchery.
/> You crawl out from under the drider and the huge half-arachnid sags on his eight legs.
“You have… lived up to your end of the agreement,” he says. “You may go in peace, herald of the Great One.”
Alyssa pouts out her lower lips, stroking his abs and planting little kisses on his pectorals.
“You can go again, can’t you?”
“What are you doing?” You hiss as you gather up your clothing.
“I’ve never been fucked by a drider before,” says Alyssa, seemingly marveling at him. She casts an annoyed glance over her shoulder and adds, “Have you?”
“Well, no,” you say.
“Then you should try too,” she says, reaching one hand beneath him again to stroke his cock. He shudders at her touch. She purrs seductively, “You have two lovely vessels waiting to be fucked. Don’t you want to mount us properly?”
You are not sure whether to be angry
Very well. He says. I will mount you both. You will have my seed. Oh and we want it. Undress and make out with Alyssa. Kiss him stroke him, his cock is quite long and bendy. You crawl beneath his spider body, the quills tickling against you both as you lick and suck him. You use your mouths! Ah! He cums all over you both.
“Disgusting,” interjects your mother’s voice. “You and that succubus crawling around like dogs begging to be mounted by a drider. Leave her!”
“I’m not leaving her,” you reply mentally.
“Fine, then get down on your knees like a bitch and let that stupid drider fuck your senseless,” laughs your mother.
Alyssa gazes at you imploringly, her shoulder and bicep working to suggest she is once again wanking the drider’s arm-sized cock. You are tempted to get down on your knees and offer your cunt up to this creature just to spite your mother. You doubt Alyssa or the drider would object.
What do you do?
Continue on your way to Rhilath
Linger so Alyssa can be mounted
Linger and let the drider mount you both
Croaha the conqueror
Wugs by their hundreds line the gently rolling hills. Their amphibian flesh is splashed with bold stripes of red war paint that confuses the shapes of the loose formations of warriors. You stride out among them, your fur-lined cloak slipping from your tanned shoulders. You wear a leather apron beneath your huge, milk-heavy breasts and nothing else but a loincloth and foot bindings. Your hair is piled up and decorated with bones and feathers. Your apron is festooned with magical fetishes of the primitive wug religion, some of which even work and imbue your magic with additional power.
You are the Croaha. The fertility goddess of the wugs. But though your thighs and buttocks and belly have grown plump with birthing numerous clutches, you remain upright and strong. You are a warrior queen and your tribe is on the move.
The drummers beat the war song. The warriors kneel as you walk among them, trailing your fingers over their slick heads. Milk drips from your engorged nipples. You smear the holy milk with your fingers and press a taste to the lips of your favored warriors. At the front ranks of your warriors are the largest wugs. These are your sons, kneeling with their gaze downward and their iron-forged blades drawn. Charms of protection you stitched and prepared yourself hang around their necks.
Kara waits with them. Only your sister, so-called Croaha’s Hand, stands at the front of the army. Her white hair has grown long. Her breasts are bare and plump with milk. She is your hand, her body still toned and firm in most places, but she does not shirk her duty as a breeder for the tribe. She provides the warriors with her blessed milk. Her sons are among the finest warriors as well.
“A good day for victory, sister,” she shouts. “Hail to the Croaha!”
The drums beat in unison and the warriors croak in their best common-tongue, “Hail to Croaha!”
You climb up on the small platform that has been built in your honor and stand with your hand gripping the stonewood staff the wugs shamans have prepared for you. It is a further enhancement of your magic, helping you to become a powerful sorceress.
“Rise, my sons and nephews! Rise to your feet as we prepare to take our rightful place as masters of this island!” The wugs rise and croak out a cheer for victory in their language. A few call out individual prayers to you and you smile at their devotion. You are a shapely, benevolent goddess of fertility, but your smile fades and your expression hardens. Today is not for the pleasure of breeding. Today is for war. “The Great One marches to do battle with us. He knows, as I know, that this battle is the final in this long campaign of conquest. We control half the island and our ranks have grown. The humans here know the blessing of the wugs. Their men join us…”
You point to the banners of the humans who have agreed to fight with you and give up their women to become clutchmothers and dairy brides in exchange for the men’s freedom.
“…because they know that we are the true masters of Ctharne! This false god and his menagerie of evil must be stopped! And I must sit upon the throne in the Dead City!”
You leave unsaid that the wugs will rule the island and enslave the humans, but by doing so you mean to spare your homeland and the other human nations the horror the Great One would surely inflict. You once though the wugs a lesser evil, but now you see the joy in birthing clutches of their young and feeding them with the milk of your breasts. It is a great honor to be the Croaha and the clutchmothers and milk brides share some small part of this honor.
Storm clouds begin to gather behind you as you sing the croaking hymn of victory. By the time you croak the last and are answered by your warriors, lightning flashes in the sky.
“Sister, they come!” Shouts Kara.
You turn to see harpy warriors, deformed and hateful, swooping from the clouds with javelins in their hands. Discordant trumpets sound and gertlings, abominations, ogres, mutilated human zealots, and a towering giant charge out of the forest facing the open field.
“Arrows and spears! Clear those witches from the sky!” Your warriors loose hundreds of arrows as javelins impale wugs all around you. The harpy attack collapses under the fusillade and the broken bodies of the women fall to the ground.
“Formations, advance!” Your wug warriors, instructed on proper combat by Kara, march out to meet the Great One’s army. Your sons and your sister march at the front. Only your shamans and your salamander-rider cavalry remain behind, waiting the orders to go into battle.
The armies clash with a roar of violence and you lose sight of your sister in the melee. Archers fire into the back ranks of wugs, but you call down lightning on the enemy archers and scatter them. A hideously-deformed black dragon swoops from the sky and belches acid slime onto an entire flank of your army. As the Great One’s forces charge into your dying warriors, you conjure a spear of ice ten meters long and launch it into the heart of the dragon. The huge monstrosity, turning for another pass, crashes down atop your dying warriors and the charging soldiers of the Great One.
Hideous creatures in filthy robes ride atop shoggoth mounts that do not hold their shape. They are charging at your weakened flank and threatening the center of your army.
“Salamander riders!” You shout. “Break their charge!”
As your cavalry thunders off to attack, you send your shamans in to bolster your center with their magic. Along the other flank, you order the humans to reinforce the wugs and turn back the crazed cultists who are fearlessly attacking.
The Great One’s massive giant, as tall as the temple steeple in Akrane, lumbers towards your army and readies his club. You prepare a spell to meet him. You will destroy the giant yourself.
This battle has only just begun and the war with the Great One hangs in the balance. Even victory here will come at a high price and with many smaller battles still to be won.
But you will not relent.
Rhilath will fall. The false god will be destroyed. These things will pass or you will die trying. Rhilath will be ruled by the Croaha!
THE END
<< START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX
“Yes, I’ve been dirty!”
“Oh, yes,” you coo breathlessly and without hesitation. “Oh, mistress, I've been very bad. I’ve been dirty!”
She lifts you from her knee and pushes you onto the bed. You sit up and she gives you another shove, pushing you onto your back. She straddles your waist, eyes glowing and wings partially spread as she looks down at you. Your breasts heave with your excitement. She runs her finger from your tummy up to your quivering mounds, pinches both nipples, lifts, and drops your breasts.
“Ah!” You gasp, afraid at what she might have planned, but enjoying your punishment too much to stop. “I’ve been so dirty, mistress.”
“Yes, you have been,” says Alyssa, pinching your nipples again. You gasp as her fingers tighten on your sensitive buds and she leans down and thrusts her tongue into your mouth. It is a rough, dominating kiss, and when she breaks it, she thrusts her fingers into your mouth, nearly gagging you. Once you recover, you look up at her and suck at her fingers. “Do you like my thick ass, huntress?”
“Mmmmhmmmm,” you say around her fingers, picturing her round, creamy buttocks and swaying hips.
“I don’t believe you, dirty girl,” she says. “I think you need to prove it.”
She pulls her fingers from your mouth, leaving you gasping. She moves gracefully to turn herself around and squat her round bottom above your face. Her shapely cheeks are only inches from your face.
“Do you like it, huntress?”
“Yesss,” you hiss, daring to reach up and caress her bottom.
Her hands push yours aside and she grabs her own bottom and gently spreads her cheeks.
“Do you like my little asshole?” She exposes her naughty pucker, clenching it and flexing it so close to you that you can see the smoothness of her inner asshole and could count each wrinkle when it clenches tightly once more. Hot lust rises at such a raunchy sight. You are mesmerized by the obscene display.
Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust Page 118
