Wildlings Enraptured: The Novella: (Fantasy Dark Erotica, Paranormal Sex Stories, Fairy Sex)

by Jill Soffalot

  Wildlings Enraptured: The Novella

  (Fantasy Dark Erotica, Dubious Consent, Paranormal Sex Stories, BDSM Sex Slaves, Mind Control Sex, Fairy Sex, Rough Forced Sex)

  Jill Soffalot

  Copyright 2014 Jill Soffalot

  Wild Charm Publishing Amazon Edition

  Cover Design Sam Butters

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Go Elf Yourself!

  Chapter Two: Queen of Desire

  Chapter Three: Full-Scale Fay Orgy

  Chapter Four: Three Maiden Granddaughters

  Chapter Five: Moonmother

  Chapter Six: Harvest Moon

  Chapter Seven: True Beauty of Subjugation

  Chapter Eight: Sharing The Wealth

  Chapter Nine: Unnatural Excess

  Chapter Ten: Changeling Hides True Form

  Chapter Eleven: A Study in Contrast

  Chapter Twelve: The Impaler

  Chapter Thirteen: Neora Faces the Queen

  Chapter Fourteen:

  Chapter Fifteen:

  About the Author

  Connect with Author

  Other Books by this Author

  Chapter One: Go Elf Yourself!

  Shaddy the wood elf traipsed through the fields of Shadehaven with a bag of ink and parchment, oblivious to the mayhem he was rapidly approaching on his thick, wide-splayed toes.

  Singing in the lilting falsetto that set male elves apart from their deep-throated female brethren, his mind was swimming with visions of the harvest to come. A fine harvest it will be, thought Shaddy as he bounded the puddles littering the pathway. It had been a most fruitful summer, and cool autumn rains had cleansed the berry bushes and chest-high wheat that dominated this expanse of his home. Verdant fields unfurled to either side of him, and the buzz of collective industry filled him with a sense of pride unparalleled in his twenty years.

  Groups of small brown men and women were picking blueberries and singing a rousing song about the goddess of the forest and her birthing of the world. It was an old song, and he picked up the scraps he remembered while humming along to the parts he had forgotten. The promise of winter necessitated a diligent harvest, and wood elves were nothing if not hardworking. It was no different for Shaddy, who strode with the headlong determination of a wood elf undertaking a journey of special significance.

  Standing just under five feet tall and wreathed in the delicate tracery of rippling green and gold that his kind commonly wore, he was the very image of contentment. With burnished brown skin and auburn hair that flopped indolently across bright green eyes, he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the peaceful Fay village of Shadehaven. He was not as strong as the pickaxe-wielding Dunder twins, nor as wealthy as the haughty Bower clan, but every inhabitant of this idyllic corner of the world knew that Shaddy was going places. He had been working at the paper mill for three years now, and the day had finally arrived when he would get to meet their most revered client.

  He turned right to cross the stone bridge that spanned the Heartriver. Halfway across he passed the creak of Old Birk’s slow-turning waterwheel and jumped as Tessyn the nymph materialized out of thin air to his left. Startled, he tripped over his retreating feet and sat hard on his rump with his mouth agape, until he realized that she was merely sitting on one of the waterwheel’s wooden slates. Blushing, he jumped to his feet while he patted down his rumpled clothing and bag. She smiled mischievously, blowing a spurt of water from the O of her lips before she dove backwards into the bubbling river.

  Looking over the edge of the bridge, he watched her dancing in the clear water with two whirling sprites. The sprites were diminutive, multicolored Fay barely half the size of the elves. They loved play and general shenanigans, often creating mild havoc by ravaging vegetable patches and knocking over unwary passersby. They could be quite a handful, but Shaddy enjoyed watching their spinning whirls of color as they chased vermin in the vaulted roofs of the paper mill. For now though, all he had eyes for was Tessyn.

  She was one of the pink-skinned water nymphs that called the river beds home. Despite their ruddy tones they were closely related to their forest cousins, with the same sparkling eyes and supple bodies. Slightly smaller than the landwalkers, they maintained the river balance and darted like knives through the murky depths of the Heartriver. The females tended to have more voluptuous bodies than the forest Fay, and Shaddy had noticed Tessyn’s hefty breasts before. As she splashed below, Shaddy noted the wet fabric of her dress clinging to her heaving chest and the barely hidden red juncture of her thighs, and he savored the sight for a moment before crossing the bridge and continuing his journey.

  Perhaps he would ask her to dance at the harvest ball, where more than a few Fay were known to abandon their inhibitions and seek the comforts of companionship. But these were secondary concerns to a wood elf of Shadehaven, and he shouldn’t let dreams of the flesh distract him from the harvest. Yet it still thrilled Shaddy to think of those quick eyes and that secret wetness, and as he left the main road to join the smaller footpath that wound around the rolling forest he felt as if he were floating. How could anything go wrong on a day like today?

  He was going to the northern tip of Shadehaven, across the rolling hills and around the wide forest lands. The ink and parchment needed to be delivered to the Overseer before nightfall. He had offered to take it when Dordor had called in sick, and he intended to make a good first impression. Despite being central to the continued flourishing of the village, the Overseer was an enigma to most of the locals. Few had seen him during his nine years in Shadehaven, but he was said to be a maiden’s dream with strong hands and haunted blue eyes. Some of the more lovely female nymphs had been known to pass the night with him, and if the rumors were true they lived in terror of the things he could do to them. Awful screams were often heard coming from his cottage in the dead of night, and who knew what cruelty lurked in the heart of a savage outlander? Yet he was their Overseer, sent here to govern the province by the Council of the Fay, and with the harvest coming he needed his ink and parchment

  It was a long journey though, and if he managed to get there before dusk he could meet the Overseer and catch a glimpse of Tessyn on his way back. There is a shortcut, just ahead whispered an unbidden voice. You need not follow the dirt path. The music of the world began to waver, and he felt the glare of unseen eyes upon him. The dark forest.

  It stretched out to the northern horizon, a vast canopy of branches beckoning toward Shaddy with curling fingers. Many elves feared the forest path, preferring to loop around the looming trees. There were said to be old forces at work here, and there had been recent reports of unknown outlanders lurking in shadow with hate in their souls. Yet time was of the essence, and he was no child. He was a proud wood elf cloaked in the glorious infinity of youth, and the forest held no fear for him. So he took a breath, wrapped the bag over his shoulder and stepped into its outstretched arms.

  It was darker in the land of the trees, and somewhere in the distance he heard the mournful call of a night lark. Shaddy picked his way carefully through the dense underbrush. The path was faint here, as if the forest itself denied passage to the unwelcome. It was easy to get turned around in this sea of mute wood, and the ground was tricky, with hidden rocks and sloping ridges that required slow, careful hiking. As he rounded a spiraling bend a chill danced across his spine.

  It smelled different here, as the crisp aromas of pine and spruce gave way to an overpowering new trace in the half-light of the fo
rest. There was richness in the scent, and something else, an intoxicating otherness that Shaddy wanted to bury his face in. The trees grew older as he progressed into the heart of the forest, and before long he was walking in tracts of land where he was the youngest living thing. The heat was overwhelming, and before long he cursed himself for not bringing water. I have never known such thirst. He was so dazed he almost fell over the outlander he found sprawled at the foot of a gnarled oak. Shaddy momentarily thought of fleeing, but then he truly saw the outlander.

  She was a delectable creature wrapped in an old brown travelling coat, her blue-black hair framing a sensuous face with full lips and stunning cat’s eyes that seemed green one second and violet the next. The body beneath the coat was shapely; it’s curves insistent against the thick wool. The eyes regarded him curiously up and down, and when her gaze lingered on his crotch he realized that he was hard.

  “I’m sorry…I’m terribly busy…harvest business…,” he blurted as he tried to hide his shame, but he found his hands would not go to cover himself. He wanted her to see. What was happening to him?

  “And a fine harvest you shall have, forest being,” purred the outlander, her kaleidoscopic eyes fixing him to the spot. “Would you join me?” Something about those protean eyes disarmed him, and he had the fleeting thought that he should have stayed with Tessyn. But his groin prevailed. Perhaps he could sit for a while. The harvest wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Sit with me,” she said, making a clearing for him alongside her. He felt the warmth of grass upon his skin as he dropped the bag and settled onto his knees to sit beside the vixen. The susurrus of the wind rang in his ears as she cocked her head at him and smiled wickedly, “A drink, wood elf? Would you drink of me?”

  I will drink only of you. “I do have a thirst…”

  “Do you desire me?” The outlander slid a curved fingernail across the clasp of her well-worn cloak, and the material parted to reveal the white skin beneath. The swell of breasts below her sharply lined clavicle drew his voracious eyes, and pale tattoos of lilac script dazzled with their mysterious vortices and hidden codes. He watched as she placed a red-tipped finger in her mouth and trailed it across the curving blue starbursts to a full white breast, her finger stiffening the dark tip of her nipple in liquid circles.

  “I…I have a thirst…”

  “Then drink,” she groaned as she pulled Shaddy’s head to the bliss of her outthrust breast. He took the firm nub into his mouth and suckled. And oh, what sweetness! What divinity! Warm milk spurted into his mouth and dribbled down his chin, and the fingers of her left hand tore at his scalp as she pressed his head tighter to her tit.

  “Suck deeply. You must know rapture.”

  Her tit was engorged with the precious milk, and he tried to cram every square inch of it into his stretched mouth. His senses threatened to overwhelm as the heat of her sweat and skin mingled with the smells of the forest. He needed something more than he had ever needed anything. Every shadow suddenly appeared phallic, every wet green tuft of earth looked like a crevice he could bury his cock in. Pulling his mouth back, he looked down at the black triangle of hair and named the cleft he saw.

  “Cunt.” Shaddy had never used the word, yet it rolled off his tongue along with the sweet milk, its rough texture suddenly perfect in his mouth. Even language was transformed and purified by his sudden knowledge. Yes, he thought with the burning clarity of epiphany. Her cunt is what I want. “Cunt, Cunt!” he gasped as he lunged for the weeping slit.

  “No, creature, that is not for you”, she started, but he was not in the mood for conversation. “Cunt!” he bellowed, barely aware of anything else as he knocked her swinging tits out the way to crawl across her hard stomach and jam his tongue into the acid of her cunt. Having tasted that heady stew of sweat, he pulled his wet face away and knew just where to stick that pesky cock of his.

  The outlander’s eyes flashed in anger, and she kicked him off with one hard thrust of her foot before he could undo his pants and fuck her. Her tattoos seemed to writhe across her skin as she muttered a guttural noise. Stumbling back from the leaking cunt and flailing feet, he didn’t see the branches shoot out from the nearby tree and wrap around his arms and legs. Suddenly he was upside down, dangling in the air.

  “You would like to stick that thing somewhere? Let me show you how I like it.”

  Panic gripped him as the front of his golden codpiece burst and his cock emerged in a twisting cord of engorged flesh. It had always been well behaved, but now it appeared to be growing! It leapt in the air like an uncoiling snake, before creeping up his body to the slick crevice of his asshole. He trembled in a bizarre mixture of terror and elation as the head of his cock teased between the tight cheeks.

  The dripping bitch watched the whole time, her stare blank as she frantically jammed two fingers into her cunt. The other worked her swollen clit as she spoke to him with a control that Shaddy may have found impressive under different circumstances, “Is this the cunt you want? Well, you can never have it, cretin. You committed the cardinal sin of boring me, elf. I shall give you the only sweetmeat you deserve.”

  Her whole body moved in time to her drilling hand, and as she slid a third finger inside she began to buck against the forest floor. That was when her face changed, and the visage of a howling dog tore through her porcelain mask. Shaddy could only throw his head back and scream, his face a contorting paroxysm as his cock tore into his asshole and impaled him through his mouth. He died with a grunt, with blood and cum from his spurting cock spraying the dog’s face. As he died she came powerfully, and her gorgeous mask returned with eyes as black as the dog’s fur.

  The outlander lazily licked her cum and Shaddy’s blood off her fingers. She lay quite still for a time in the darkening world. Her face transmuted into the likeness of a handsome older woman. Raising her head to the sound of approaching voices, she spied some sprites giggling amongst themselves.

  “Time to see the true nature of your kind,” said the woman contemptuously as she kicked Shaddy’s lifeless cock and reached for his undelivered bag.

  Chapter Two: Queen of Desire

  Situated at the apex of a snow-capped mountain overlooking the Lonely Sea, The Dark Lady Minerva’s palace was a precarious place at the best of times. Tonight, however, the air seemed to vibrate with the coiled tension of a bird of prey poised to take flight. The changeling had returned.

  Tessellated panels of bone-pale moonglass interlocked in an undulating defensive wall that sealed the citadel from any army foolish enough to attempt to scale the crag. The palace sat atop this giant white honeycomb, a shimmering latticework of high, thin towers crowned by twin spires that rose like horns on the head of some gigantic beast carved from ice. Only one road led upwards through the encircling dome, and it was sealed by a series of heavy iron gates that barred ascent to the unwanted.

  Some brave men desperate to impress their queen had scaled the dome above the aperture, carving the terrifying likeness of a screaming female face onto the moonglass with the fanged mouth surrounding the sealed entrance. Those approaching the gates from the frozen eastward slopes were greeted by this twisted facade, and those who wished to enter had to pass through the gaping maw of the Dark Lady.

  Minerva considered this as she weighed Neora’s words at the top of the world. Was she a monster now, in her lair of ice and waste? Usually her audience chamber would be alive with a mass of intertwined bodies moaning in the endlessly variable tongue of the enraptured. Revelers would be gathered from their chambers and plied with drink and powerful aphrodisiacs in readiness for the nightly bacchanal. Many were nubile men and women culled from towns to the east that spread from the valley at the foot of the mountain toward the horizons of the rising sun. She would often sit attendance with her stoic guards interspersed throughout the throng, pleasuring herself with an array of ivory cocks or being greedily serviced by a love-struck devotee. Her needs were great and her pleasure often elusive, so she would occasional
ly abandon the role of voyeur and enter the fray searching for an errant prick or cunt to reach her catharsis.

  Such had been their dream, a palace designed for the sole purpose of propagating desire, a temple of the flesh and an offering to its power. A joyful place. Now when someone displeased her in any way (be it a momentary hesitance to perform a particularly grotesque act or the insolence of impotence) she would have them scourged in the light of the moon, and the blood would run black across the thin strands of her lash. She shuddered. Joy had left this place many years ago, and each passing orgasm seemed to wane in the shadow of a greater loss. Pale moonlight bathed her, the changeling and the wood elf’s mangled corpse.

  “A fine piece of treachery, Neora,” said the self-styled Queen of Desire in a measured tone. “Though this business was not as clean as I commanded. A wood elf fucking himself to death? I mean to enrapture Shadehaven, not decimate it. They will call me a tyrant.”

  Reclining in a high-backed throne carved from ebony wood that contrasted with the translucence of her skin, Queen Minerva stared coolly upon her underling with shining black eyes. Her white hair was tied up severely into a living, six-pointed crown upon her head, and it heightened the precise contours of her frosty beauty. Where Neora was smoldering, Minerva was unnervingly exquisite. Her limbs were long and lithe, and the tattoos on her high breasts and across the sharp ripple of her ribs were an inky black. She was completely naked, her legs crossed thigh over thigh to conceal the white hair below.

  Neora stood at the foot of Minerva’s raised dais, her blue-black hair pooled around her bare feet. Neora was as naked as her queen. Minerva permitted no clothes to be worn in her palace. This served a double function: weapons could always be concealed beneath a garment, so nudity ensured a certain protection from the enemies of the flesh. But this was merely a happy accident. She was the Queen of Desire, and the naked form was a sacred site of worship.