Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  “Mmm!” You abandon attacking your breasts and crush the pink globes of your bum in your hands. “Fuck!” you curse, eyes afire with lust. “It’s not enough!”

  You know it to be so. Though the mimic cock within your cunt never ceases its assault, it loosens and slows its presence within you. Likewise, the pressure within your bowels is reduced. You rise from the floor. The straps around your ankles unwind, allowing you to widen your stance. You flex your arms and legs, a rumbling building in your chest as you feel the mimic’s strength course through your limbs.

  You remember the joy of your bondage. The power over the body of another. But now that it’s your body, one and complete, the pleasure is less pronounced. You need something else. Someone else.

  Your lips smile cruelly. You fetch your sword from the ground. A sheathe of leather straps forms at the girdle at your hips, and you thrust the weapon home, a shiver of delight coursing through you at the feeling of the cold steel rubbing against the leather.

  Eyes in your head and the one in your breastplate flash with desire. You stalk with all the lithe, predatory grace of a hunting panther out the door of the tower. The world lies at your feet.

  Lies for the taking!

  CONTINUE >

  "Yes, I am here to worship you"

  “Yes!” You cry, shuddering as you drop to your knees with adoration. “Yes, I am here to worship you!”

  The goat’s sensual chuckle echoes in your mind and all of the women in the chapel coo with happiness. The horned patriarch rises from his velvet throne. Your gaze fixates on his cock as it swings slowly between his legs. He stands before you, his strong aroma filling your nostrils and his cock hanging only a few inches from your face.

  “You will find happiness here,” says the goat and he reaches down and strokes your head gently. “I know your desire. I give you permission, huntress. Touch it as you wish.”

  You gratefully embrace the warm, drooping trunk of the goat’s cock. You cradle his glorious phallus against your bosom and kiss the leaking tip, running your tongue over the fat slit. You shed your jacket and tear furiously at your blouse until you have freed your breasts. You press them against the goat’s huge, stiffening cock, rubbing his musky shaft between them as you lick at the huge tip of his swelling cock.

  You try to fit as much of the goat’s hot cockflesh into your mouth as you can manage. You slurp at the liquid oozing from his tip and gulp the sour nectar, craving more and more. The furry demigod picks you up suddenly and lifts you high into the air over his head. With one hand holding you, his other hands strips off your skirt and panties, leaving you wearing only your boots. Your feet kick helplessly as he slowly lowers you onto his face. His wide snout presses between your thighs and sniffs hotly at your throbbing quim.

  “Your cunt is pure,” he chuckles, his words vibrating against your sex. “Soon you will be blessed with my children.”

  He opens his snout and his pink tongue begins to lap at your slit. Each lash of his tongue sends a hot pulse of pleasure racing through your body. You gasp and rock your hips. He holds you above his upturned snout, his mouth open wide and his tongue buried in your cunt. The feel of his hot, slippery tongue writhing inside you is incredible. Like a snake trying to hide deep within your cunt. Your pussy explodes with pleasure, rippling around his tongue and spilling your juice into his open mouth.

  At the goats feet, the woman bleat jealously and press their filthy, well-used bodies against his legs. They reach up and fondle his furry balls and stroke their hands over his rigid cock. Those who can’t get close enough to do this are masturbating with frustration and squeezing their nipples to express milk that trickles down their engorged breasts.

  Your orgasm subsides and the goat tosses you to your hands and knees on the straw-covered floor. He uses one black fingernail to draw a symbol on your buttock. The magic rune pulses and glows with tingling energy.

  “You are my bride now,” he intones. “Welcome, my sweet. Your body will endure what is to come.”

  “W-what is to come?” You gasp, looking up at him over your shoulder.

  The goat answers by wrapping his huge hands around your waist just above your hips and holding you still as he lines up the huge tip of his cock. Your pussy is soaking wet, but you are terrified by the size of his bestial horn. His tip presses against your sex, parting your folds and sliding into you, stretching your pussy around his immense cock. Your eyes go wide and your mouth falls open in a mute cry of shock and pleasure.

  His first stroke is slow and with it he claims your body. A full two feet of his cock push into you, stretching your insides and bulging your belly with his throbbing girth. Such an invasion should have killed you and it does make it rather had to breathe, but you sense no internal damage. In fact, despite the sensation of being too-full, intense pleasure radiates through your body.

  The goat bleats with pleasure and begins to thrust his huge cock in and out of your stretched pussy. Copious juice flows down your thighs and slicks your stretched passage. Each time his cock rams into your cunt it is as if another church bell of pleasure rings inside you. Again and again, the ecstasy of being taken by living perfection reverberates inside you. His balls tighten, your plump breasts swing beneath you, and your cunt shudders as you are ruled by his glorious cock. There are no words of jubilation strong enough. You can only moan like a beast as your pussy is stretched wide and his cock hammers in and out of your body.

  His cock erupts without warning, gushing a steamy flood of sperm into your stuffed cunt. It only takes an instant for the curse of fertility that hangs over Ctharne to transform you into a happy broodmare for the horned father. The goat bleats with release, his cum washing into your pussy and overflowing around his jerking cock.

  You weep with joy at receiving the fertile gift of the goat. Your life and your spunk-stuffed cunt belong to him.

  CONTINUE >

  Her fingers are enough

  “Don’t stop,” you cry softly.

  She lifts her fingers from your clit, giving you a sultry look as she teases, “You want me to stop?”

  You grab her wrist and pull her hand back against your aching pussy. You sit up in the bed and give her a ferocious look.

  “Don’t stop,” you say, your teeth clenched with pleasure.

  “Oh, my, I think I’ve found your spot,” chuckles Velora, rubbing her fingers up and down your slippery slit and massaging your clit. She resumes kissing your shuddering breasts. You gasp as she murmurs, “These lovely pink nipples deserve my attention too.”

  Her tongue curls against your nipple and the hot suction of her mouth closes over your straining nipple. You cradle her head against your breast as you arch on the bed beneath her and thrust your pussy against her stroking fingers. Every few strokes of your clit, Velora rubs her cupped hand against your entire quim, squeezing it and making your hot nectar flow against her touch.

  “Your body is so hot,” she whispers, climbing atop you completely and kissing you. “I’ll give it to you properly with my fingers, love. You deserve it.”

  “W-what?” You gasp against her sweet kiss.

  She replies with her fingers, first massaging and spreading your pussy, and then pushing inside your nearly-virginal channel. You’ve lost your maidenhead long ago from horseback riding, had two men inside you in the years since, but you are still shocked by the sensation of two of Velora’s long fingers pushing into your quim.

  “Ooooh, it’s too much,” you cry, grabbing her wrist again and trying to extricate her fingers from your slick channel. “Oh, please, Velora. Please don’t… oh my god…”

  She smiles sweetly at you and continues despite your objections, pushing knuckle after knuckle into your channel until her fingers are completely wedged inside your quim. Your tender walls flutter and clutch reflexively and you marvel at how you can feel the exact shape of her fingers inside you. This is something you have done to yourself before, but never two fingers at once and never so deep.

&n
bsp; “Oh, Velora, you’re touching… touching the bottom.”

  “The bottom?” She giggles. “You’re so cute. All those books… mmmmm… and you barely know the first thing about really living.”

  She kisses you again and all you can do is moan into her hungry kiss as her fingers pump deftly in and out of the velvet channel of your quim. Each thrust of her fingers stretches and opens your tender cove. The palm of her hand thump against the bud of your clit and she flexes her palm each time to give your sensitive bud a push each time. It’s excruciating. It’s wonderful. You can’t get enough of it.

  “Mmmmmm oohhhh gods,” you gasp into her kiss, losing yourself in the hot immediacy of what she is doing. Your hips lift, your back arches, your plump breasts shudder with your body’s tension. You feel an orgasm building within you, a “heavenly moment” as you once red in a poem, when your flesh reaches into the realms of the divine and you experience a few fleeting seconds of the majesty of perfection.

  “That’s it, love,” gaps Velora, sucking at your lower lip. She pumps her fingers faster. Your body tightens. Your pussy clutches at her fingers.

  “Yes,” you cry. “Ohhhhhh gods, yessss!”

  You have reached that heavenly moment before, by your own hand a few times and by rubbing against things when you were younger, but never like this. Certainly you have never been made to cum by a skilled woman of pleasures thrusting her talented hand against your tight quim. Her eyes are imploring, her smile both wicked in sweet, and you cry out her name as you reach your climax, “Veloraaaa!”

  “Penny!” She cries, her hot kiss sucking at your supple neck.

  The throbbing pleasure of your orgasm exceeds anything you have discovered with your own curious hands. Velora, sensing your climax, sucks at one of your nipples and pinches the other quite roughly. The sharp jolts of pain seem to combine and amplify the pleasure rippling through your body. Your arms and legs quiver and your hips buck against Velora’s hand. Your pussy squeezes tightly around her fingers.

  “Oh… oh my gods,” you laugh, your eyes wide open. “Oh that is…”

  Your pleasure is finally spent and you slowly relax back onto the bed, your nipple popping free of Velora’s sucking mouth.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” She asks as she plays her fingertips against your nipple. Her other fingers slow their stroking inside you.

  “Amazing. Wonderful.” You laugh at her, feeling the flush in your face and spreading across your upper chest. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

  “That was only the beginning, love,” she says, kissing you teasingly on the lips.

  “Do you, um, want me to do something to you?”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, sweetie,” says Velora, curling the white lock of your hair behind your ear.

  You are not certain what exactly you would do with a beautiful woman like Velora, but you feel the sudden urge to try something. You have read quite a few books that cover the subject. Naiads, so-called “well wives,” in particular take lovers among human women. You’ve read lengthy descriptions of the lesbian habits of naiads by the monster cataloger Helena Brimsten. A few of those techniques might be useful for repaying Velora.

  If you can work up the courage to try them, that is. It seems harder than ever to even maintain eye-contact with the comely courtesan. When you look away from her glittering blue eyes, you only end up looking at her breasts heaving beneath her dressing gown.

  “Don’t be shy,” she says, squeezing your hand. “I’m here for you, love.”

  Are you going to pleasure Velora?

  You're not ready to try pleasuring a woman

  Kiss her breasts and maybe more

  Use your fingers between her thighs

  Attack

  You’re not about to go down without a fight! With your best war cry, you draw both flintlock pistols from your belt and fire them at the approaching freaks. The pistols crack and spit fire and dense smoke. One of the men from the tavern’s bar grunts and pitches over. Your other shot goes wild. The other three men recoil for a moment, but as you draw your sword they are already coming towards you again.

  “You crazy outsider, you killed Barrigan!” The other man from the bar screams and swings a chair at you and knocks your sword out of your hand.

  You dance back and turn just in time to see a rusty fishing spear being thrust at your midsection. It stops short of impaling you and the bartender prods your abdomen. His smile is hideous and broken-toothed. Your heart sinks as you realize he could finish you off with a thrust of his spear.

  “Give it up, witch girl,” he says. “Your fire sticks ain’t savin’ you now.”

  They march you away from the door, the bartender prodding you with the spear the whole way. Behind the bar, the innkeeper pulls a rusty iron ring in the floor and opens a trapdoor. You have no choice but to descend a rickety staircase into the damp, cool, and very dark cellar. Your heart sinks even further once they light a torch and reveal a filthy bed against one earthen wall of the cellar.

  “Had to keep my wife down here,” says the bartender. “But someone told the goat and she got took from me. So I have a nice bed for you.”

  “And all of us will get to share,” says the bar patron.

  “Even me,” adds the old man. The other two look at him and he sputters, “What? I may be old, but I’m ornery and my pecker still works.”

  They are not giving you any say in the matter. The bartender seals the trapdoor and the three men close in around you, tearing off your backpack first and then stripping your jacket and your blouse. You cry out and try to resist them. The bartender clamps a hand over your mouth to silence you.

  “Quiet! If any others hear you, then you’ll go to the goat. And you’ll wish you’d been quiet. We’re so much nicer than the goat.”

  They don’t seem very nice as they tear off your skirt, laughing and hooting and pawing at your pale thighs. The bartender rips your panties off and the bar patron gets down on his knees and begins messily licking and sucking at your pussy. Your bra comes off last and the old man begins slobbering all over your tits, running his fat tongue over your nipples as his hands roughly fondle your mounds. You try to keep quiet as tears trickle down your cheeks.

  “Don’t worry,” says the bartender, stripping off his grease-stained apron and his filthy trousers. “We’ll take good care of you down here. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

  Your eyes widen at the sight of the cock he is gripping in his hands. It is long and slender and pink with furry white testicles beneath his shaft. It has a glistening wetness to it that makes it seem more like a beast’s penis than a man’s.

  “This is what you need,” says the bartender, laughing loudly. “This will calm you down.”

  You shove the knee the man licking your pussy in his face. He recoils, grabbing at his mouth and moaning in pain. You shove the old man away from your breasts. They are smeared with stinking saliva. You look at the warty old man with his crooked jaw and you cock back your fist to punch him in his big nose.

  The bartender grabs your wrist and pushes you back against the wall. Before you can do anything he has you turned around, holding both of your hands against the wall with one surprisingly strong grip. His other hand holds your hip as he guides his hardness to your pussy.

  “Noooooo!” You cry as he slides his beastly cock into your swollen cunt. Your cry of refusal becomes a gasp of pleasure on the very first stroke. The long cock reaches to your limit and the tip prods the entrance of your womb. His furry balls tickle against your clit as he begins fucking you. His pace is steady, working in and out of your clutching cunt and slamming his hips against your plump ass. The old man crawls beneath you and begins squeezing and sucking at your dangling breasts.

  You are helpless to stop any of it and especially helpless in the face of so much pleasure. The toothless old freak sucking your breasts and pinching your nipples is sending spikes of ecstasy through your body. They
seem to jolt all the way to your clit, which is being rubbed by the bartender’s strangely furry balls, and ripple along the inner walls of your cunt, slick and stimulated by his thrusting cock.

  “Give me some of that too,” gripes the man you kneed in the face. He walks over and grabs your hair, pulling your head down lower as he thrusts his cock at your face. His prick is similar to the bartenders, long and weirdly skinny, almost like an elongated cone of glistening flesh. It slides easily past your lips. You cry out and your eyes go wide as he thrusts the tip into your throat. His cock works in and out of your throat.

  The cramped cellar heats up with their thrusting bodies. The awful smell of their unwholesome flesh and sexual musk nearly gags you. The man using your throat suddenly grunts and you feel his hot cock milk pouring into your belly. Spurt after spurt stuffs your throat and all you can do is gulp it down or risk choking on him. He pulls out, rubbing his cock all over your face.

  The old man stands up and presents his vile, warty cock, more human than the others, but no less disgusting. He pushes it against your pursed lips and pants lustily. Behind you, the bartender is grunting and breathing heavier. His grip tightens on your hips. You can’t take it. The pleasure is too intense and you cry out. As you wail with ecstasy, the old man thrusts his cock into your mouth, gagging you on his filthy fucktool. Sputtering, heaving, you’re still cumming and you feel the bartender about to do the same.

  “Yessssss! It’s been so long!” His bony hips slap against your plump ass. “Take it! Take it and be happy!”

  His cum spurts inside you in a hot rush. Your inner walls milk his gushing tool and the fertility curse that hangs over the island guides his sperm straight to your fertile egg. You cry out with new ecstasy as your lingering resistance is obliterated in a wave of happiness and contentment. A new life is forming within you as the bartender’s filthy spunk overflows your quivering cunt.