by Wade, Vixen
TALES OF THE CONCUBINE
#1
SLAVE OF THE OGRE MAGI
By Vixen Wade
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, evens or locals is entirely coincidental.
Published by Park Place
Publishing (3P Ventures)
Copyright 2015 by Vixen Wade and 3P
Ventures.
All rights Reserved.
1.
Veronica Doe was about to experience something new.
Kevin Connor pushed her, laughing, up against the wall of the private jet. Tipsy herself on the $800 a bottle champagne she, as one of two flight attendants on the charter, was serving, she knew the singer/reality tv star was also high as hell on all the cocaine the band was doing.
She went up against the bulkhead, face pressed against the cool mahogany of the interior cabin. Her heavy breasts flattened inside her bra, forming a cushion as Connor crowded in behind her. She could feel him through her uniform skirt, his erection pressing hard into the soft, Kardashian curves of her ass.
“You’re beautiful, baby,” the singer murmured. His voice came out softly slurred from the Cristal.
His jaw, dark with trendy two-day stubble, softly prickled her neck as he whispered in her ear. His hands closed over hers, pinning them to the wall as he pushed up against her. He was tall, rock star lean, and her girlfriends back home in Miami were never going to believe she’d fucked the Kevin Connor.
But if the hard-on he was sporting was any indication, this was exactly what was going to happen.
She pushed her ass back against his body, rubbing at him through his fashionably distressed, designer jeans. God, she thought, all I’m doing is dry humping, and I’m already wet as hell. His breath felt hot on her neck and he began kissing her, lips finding her earlobe and sucking on it.
She moaned in response and began gently gyrated her ass cheeks up and down along the length of his erection. It was his turn to moan now, and his hands left hers to start running down the length of her body. She liked the way they felt, heavy and hot through the soft silk fabric of her top.
“Come on,” she told him, breathless, “now. Let’s do it now.”
While he groped her tits, playing with her nipples through her uniform blouse, she reached down and yanked her pencil skirt up over her curvy hips. Still kissing behind her ear, she felt his weight lean in more forcibly against her as he removed his hands from her body and jerked open his pants.
She felt him grip the bend of her hips and now his cock, unfettered and burning warm, flopped against the soft skin of her butt cheeks. It felt ramrod hard, so engorged with blood it seemed hot enough to burn her. Again, she thrust her ass back against him, hungry for it.
She jerked her panties to the side with impatient fingers. Not that there was much to the panties to pull out of the way. The credit card receipt at Fredericks of Hollywood had been bigger than the lacy red G-string.
“Do it, baby, put it in,” she growled, her throat tight with lust, with wanting to get piston-drilled right up against the wall like an Italian whore.
His hands slid down the front of her thighs and roamed across her clitoris. The move set off fireworks through her pussy and she slapped the wall hard with one hand, her legs trembling. Reaching back, she encircled his cock as he rubbed it up and down between the pillows of her asscheeks.
It was a thick number, veiny and substantial in her grip, so hard she suspected he must have been snorting Viagra along with all that Columbian flake. He pushed against her, rubbing the shaft across the puckered opening of her anus. In front of him, Veronica’s eyes went wide at the sensation, startled.
“I want you,” he said, voice rough.
“You can have me, damnit!” she shot back, squeezing his dick. “Fucking take me!”
He continued rubbing her clit, sliding his fingers between the lips of her labia. Drenched with her excitement, she made slight squishing sounds, like someone walking across linoleum in wet tennis shoes. She could smell herself. She wondered if the scent of sex could compete with the hash smoke filling the plane.
“Please,” she asked.
“I want to,” he said, “but babe, there’s a problem.”
His dick was like a warm iron bar resting against the soft seam of her ass. She squeezed it again. “I don’t feel a problem,” she said.
“There’s a rider in my contract with the cable channel.”
“What? A no getting laid clause?” she scoffed. What the hell, was he trying not to fuck her?
“Sort of,” he admitted. “No sex that could lead to a disputed paternity test. I don’t have any rubbers.”
Her legs were damp with her desire, her panties were soggy from it. He wasn’t getting out of the steward pantry without putting that fat dick in her. End of story.
“Shut up and fuck me in the ass,” she told him.
He chuckled in her ear. “That’s the spirit. Get ready to cum, baby.”
He adjusted himself, hands leaving her pussy for a moment. Then she felt the soft knot of his penis tip pressing against the rosebud of her anus. The pressure intensified. She mentally willed herself to relax, to take the cock in.
“Oh,” she murmured.
Her own hand went to her clit and began working it in slow circles. One of her girlfriends had laughingly referred to rubbing the clitoris as “rocking the little man in the boat.” She started rocking the hell out of that little man, hard enough to toss his ass out of the boat and right into the water.
In her ass, her sphincter relaxed enough and the tip of Kevin’s dick slowly slid in. He stopped, letting her adapt to his girth. He was panting and she could tell he was fighting the urge to just slam the thing home. Slowly, carefully, she eased herself back, impaling herself along the length of his erect penis
She breathed in, gasping a little as he pushed deeper. The feeling of being filled overwhelmed her with satisfaction. The soft inner lining of her rectum grasped his cock, squeezing it, milking it in a gentle massage.
His breath was hot in her ear. “Goddamn, baby, you feel so good.”
She closed her eyes, leaned her head back against him. He smelled like Aramis and champagne. She opened her eyes and saw their reflection in the polished silver metal of the pantry refrigerator. Hair in a permanent, just-rolled-out-of-bed mess, Kevin Connor was even more good looking than on one of his press photos.
And his dick is in your ass, she thought, feeling a warm impression of gratification radiate throughout her body. She was already a card carrying member of the Mile High Club, she’d been a flight attendant for a decade now, but this story just kept getting better and better. She hadn’t bought his line about “contract obligations” for a second. But if Kevin Connor, lead singer of Slam House, wanted to bang her up the ass, she was willing and able.
With one hand, she kept working her pussy, stopping to wet a finger with her tongue, before sliding it slowly inside of her to rub at the g-spot on her cervix. With the other arm she lifted her hand and reached back to encircle Connor’s head, her fingers running through the soft tangles of his hair.
Dick firmly in her ass, balls nestled up against her vagina, he slid his hands around in front of her and cupped her breasts. He squeezed gently and her already hard nipples stretched out into bullet tip points. She made a fist out of the hand holding his hair.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Do it, fuck me hard. Fuck my ass hard.”
His hands grasped her hips, squeezing firmly as he took control of her waist. She leaned forward and rested her head on her arm against the cabin wall, still fingering fucking herself as she did. He slid his cock half out of her ass, then pushed it in again.
They moaned in a synchronized breath, and Veronica slid a second finger into her pussy. He pulled out faster this time, a little farther, then pushed it home with more force. She grunted, sliding her fingers in and out of her vagina at a faster pace. He pulled his hard-on out to the edge of his cockhead and then slammed it home, fast. She cried out, the pleasure tinged with just a touch of pain, just enough to excite her.
“Do it,” she repeated. “Fuck my ass.”
Connor began see-sawing his cock in and out of her, pulling it out, then slamming it home in quick, rough motions. Veronica felt like she’d been set on fire, and she started pushing her ass back to meet his dick on every thrust. The palm of her hand rubbed rough across the tip of her clit as she slipped her two fingers in and out of her pussy.
He kept ass fucking her, picking up the speed on each stroke until he was smooth up in her, balls slapping the back of her legs. Pleasure kept radiating through her body, and her knees buckled a little. In three more strokes, it was only his grip on her hips that kept her from falling.
“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” she grated out. His dick was up inside her, deep, each stroke blasting currents of delight up along her spine. Her jaw hung slack as she panted, eyes rolled up back in her head each time he slammed it home.
It was going to happen; she was going to cum, and she could tell it was going to be hard. Her hand flew in and out of her dripping pussy, juice actually splashing her pumps in fat drops where her panties hung bunched around her ankles.
The building, burning pressure, began bottlenecking up inside her. The heavy weight of his balls beat out a staccato rhythm as he harpooned her ass. Finally, she felt herself plunge over the edge as her orgasm took her.
She screamed out loud.
She didn’t give a fuck who heard her, she just shouted at the intensity of the orgasm rocking her body. Hot liquid gushed out of her cunt and sprayed on the wall, like water from a faucet. Her legs buckled and she pushed against the wall to keep from falling. Connor started cursing, voice raw, almost angry in the fervor of his own orgasm, and she felt his cum squirt out in blistering jets to splash up inside her ass. He pumped into her three more times before sagging forward, weak as she was.
“Oh my god,” he whispered into the long, loose curls of her deep, black hair.
She couldn’t find the words to answer, and just leaned back against him. She made a soft sound of protest as he softened and slipped out of her ass. She felt a sense of emptiness as he slid clear and then the odd, dripping sensation as his sperm began leaking out.
“That was…amazing,” she breathed. “I’ve never squirted before. It made my whole body tingle.”
“Yeah,” he said in that warm tenor that had made him a millionaire and made this whole wild trip possible. “I’ve never seen anything like that, except on the internet.”
She opened her mouth to answer and suddenly the plane bucked. Hard. She went up against the wall and bounced backward. Connor, pants still around his knees, went over backwards, falling roughly on his ass. He grunted on impact and sprawled, wet dick bouncing comically.
The plane lurched hard again and Veronica sprawled across him. Her stomach dropped away as the plane abruptly dropped into a dive.
“This is bad,” she said.
Peeking around the corner of the pantry, past the lavatory, she saw the rest of the band, and Aubrey, the other flight attendant, sprawled on the floor. People shouted, yelling in panic. From the windows brilliant lights, amethyst blue and lava red, flashed through the safety glass. She had no idea what the hell that could possibly be, but she knew enough to realize the plane was going to crash.
Hit band goes missing in plane ever the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, she though wildly. It’d be the story of the decade. Or at least the rest of the year. Green saturated the plane in a flash bright as a sun going nova.
I’m going to be semi-famous.
One of the windows exploded, sucked from its frame in flash of a thousand splintered shards. Instantly, the pressure inversion began its apocalyptic sequence of inevitable events and the breathable atmosphere was sucked from the cabin in tornado ribbons.
The last thought Veronica Doe had, before blackness took her, was of how sorry she was she’d never tried anal sex before.
That had been one hell of a fuck.
2.
Veronica woke to amazing impossibilities.
Confused she was still alive, dazed and groggy, she blinked open her eyes. Her body ached as if she’d been pummeled and she lay askew across the seats in an awkward tangle of limbs. Carefully, she pushed herself up, looking around. Her breasts swung loose and heavy, she looked down, realizing her shirt and bra were ripped open, leaving the double-D cups exposed.
She was still in the rear of the plane, and looking out towards the cockpit to find the passengers, she gasped, realizing how incredible her situation was. She hung, caught up in the seats, strung out like rope in tree branches. Somehow, the plane was pointing straight up in the air.
The front of the fuselage was ripped open in great jagged strips, metal fangs reaching toward a night sky that looked wrong. It was too close, too clear somehow, and the moon... She lifted a hand to her mouth in shock. The moon was incredibly bright and huge, looming above her like gleaming bone, closer than she ever remembered seeing it.
And it was broken in half.
Unable to process the information, she looked away, and immediately saw another celestial body filling the sky. A purple planet ringed like Saturn, also impossibly close., as if it hung in the stratosphere instead of across a galaxy.
She closed her eyes, opened them again. The plane had gone down, she knew this. It had gone down over open ocean. She should have woken up on the bottom of the Atlantic.
Climbing through the tangle of seats, she spotted the rear cabin door, the one used for loading the cargo hold and pantry with sundries. The door was missing, ripped clean off its hinges, leaving a gaping whole. Unsteady, slipping into a kind of emotional shock, she clambered across the seat rows toward the exit. As she climbed, her breasts swung free, her ass throbbing with a sort of pleasurable bruising she generally associated with good, hard fucks, though usually in her vagina.
“Hello? Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone there? Kevin? Anyone?”
There was no answer.
This is quite a day, she thought. I lose my ass cherry to a rock star at 20,000 feet, survive a plane wreck and end up…
Her thoughts trailed away to nothing as she came to the doorway. She crouched, hand on the frame, trying to comprehend what she was seeing.
She’d already understood, at least on some level, that the sky above her was alien, an impossible view to be had from Earth, but hadn’t yet been able to process it completely after the shock of the wreck, and finding herself alone. What she saw now simply hammered the strangeness into to her, making denial a useless exercise.
From the lip of the door she looked out on a nightmarish landscape of surreal images. It was a cold, lifeless desert. Hard packed, reddish sand stretched to the curve of the horizon. The ground was broken here and there with cracks, forming deep, shadow thick, canyons. She was certain there was no desert like this on Earth, any ware. Not the Gobi, or the Kalahari, certainly not the Sahara.
And everywhere, all around, for as far as she could see, the landscape lay strewn with the wrecks of planes and ships. The vessels were all kinds, from turn of the nineteenth century yachts to 1950’s planes. There were silver Air Force bombers and medium sized cargo ships. A Naval coastal patrol vessel lay stuck in the dirt next to a commercial fishing boat that had been broken in half by a Vietnam-era helicopter.
In a flash of i
ntuition, understanding came to her. Here was the detritus of a hundred years or more missing ships and planes claimed by the enigma of the Bermuda Triangle. She had been transported someplace else.
“Where is everyone?” she murmured.
As if in answer to her question, she heard Aubrey, the other flight attendant, cry out in a hoarse, strange shout. It was pain, but at least not fully, and it wasn’t fear, either. If anything, Veronica realized, it sounded a little like her own shriek when her orgasm hit her during the brutal anal pounding Kevin Connor had been giving her.
But that was ridiculous. They’d just been in a goddamn plane wreck.
She looked down and across, toward the source of the sound, and saw yet another impossibility. Another incongruous, fantastic and unbelievable scene, playing itself out in front of her eyes and something deep inside her mind turned over, changing her perspective forever. It was an emotional Rubicon that she had to cross, or lose her mind.
She crossed it.
She was some place impossible, sucked in by one of the most famous paranormal mysteries of her time, but it was possible, because she was, indeed, here. She could waste not one, single, further thought on “how” this all was. It was, that was enough.
Instead she would focus on surviving as best she could, on trying to embrace the miraculous events she found herself swept up in.
Which helped her accept the Orcs.
She’d spent her first year of community college shacked up with a skater dude. Sort of a slacker, but with great weed, and a real talent for going on her. Other than the fact his cock curved to the left, she remembered something else about him. He’d been infatuated with the Lord Of The Rings movies, watching them over and over again, taking huge hits from the bong as she tried studying for her English 101, Entry to Psych, and College Algebra classes.
So she knew what the fuck Orcs were.
They were an evil, savage, demi-human race of murderous beasts with gray-green skins and fangs like wolves. They were also sort of hunky, in a weird way, she’d thought at the time. It was an idea she kept to herself.
