Sulitea stayed still, her hand to her mouth as the ape began to rut along Aisla’s bottom. Aisla sighed, finding it impossible not to enjoy the gentle power of the big ape, then he had altered the angle of his cock and her vagina was filling with a good two hand spans of thick black penis. It went up, all the way, her hole juicy and open, and as he began to fuck her his balls began to swing and slap on her tuppenny.
He humped away merrily, evidently in no hurry now that he had his cock sheaved in hot girl flesh. All the while his hands kneaded Aisla’s breasts, squeezing and stroking more gently than many men. Before long she gave in to her lust, going down on one elbow and reaching back to find her tuppenny. Sulitea gave a lewd chuckle as Aisla began to masturbate, then, as if on a sudden impulse, tweaked up her dress, slid her hand down the front of her pantalettes and began to do the same over the sight of the wood-ape fucking Aisla.
Watching Sulitea frig over her being mounted by a half-beast gave a new, dirty twinge to Aisla’s pleasure. His balls were slapping her hand, his hairy body was tickling her, his big hands kneading her dangling breasts, all of keeping it firmly in her mind that it was no man but a huge ape who was fucking her. With a long, open mouthed groan she came, flicking and slapping her clitoris as the delicious rudeness of her behaviour went through her head.
Sulitea was not long in joining her, coming with a little cry as the front of her pantalettes bulged and quivered with the frantic motions of her fingers. Her knees came open as she climaxed, her muscles tensing in her ecstasy, her eyes never leaving the shape of the shaggy beast as he continued to fuck Aisla.
With her orgasm fading, some awareness of what she was actually doing, and why, came back to Aisla. Moving beneath the big ape, she pulled her vagina off his cock. He made no move to stop her, only retaining his grip on her breasts. Aisla pushed him gently off, then turned inside his embrace to go down on his erection. As it slipped into her mouth she tasted her own juice, blended with the flavour of wood-ape cock, a rich, sweet musk that quickly had her sucking eagerly. He gave a delighted grunt at the sensation of her mouth on his erection and took her breasts up again, kneading as before. Aisla began to mouth the tip of his penis, a technique she found few males could resist. Sure enough, his cock jerked, his hands tightened on her breasts and suddenly a great wad of sperm had been deposited in her mouth, over her face and down her neck.
Filling her vial, she swallowed the rest of the sperm, the wood ape immediately loosing interest just as the troll had done, only this time instead of relief she felt regret.
Three days later they came out onto a high, wooded ridge overlooking the sea, the Aeg Roads, the sight of with gave Aisla a fresh pang of homesickness. For a while they stood still, scanning the distance for any signs of the long black hull of a longboat. None were visible, nor any other vessels. Nor was there any sign of the town of Aponan, although a track could be seen far below, running parallel to the shore while somewhat to the east a cluster of buildings stood beside the track. Outside one a sign was visible.
‘An inn, do you think?’ Aisla queried.
‘So it would seem, but how will we pay?’ Sulitea queried.
‘That will be easy enough,’ Aisla sighed. ‘In these parts they pay coin for sex. Odd, I know, but useful. I’m more worried about their reaction to us. This coast must be raided now and then.’
‘Maybe there won’t be many people about?’ Sulitea suggested.
‘We must risk it anyway,’ Aisla answered.
They moved down the slope through a thick stand of oak and coffinwood that reminded Aisla strongly of home. Emerging on the track no more than a few paces from the inn, they saw that the sign displayed a ship, much in the style of the Amaratine. Sound could be heard from the common room, so they peered in at a window of crude, green glass. Within they could see several people, their details distorted by the glass.
Reluctant to enter at the front with so many customers present, they went to a side door. Their knock was answered by a short, fat man in a grease stained apron, who instantly started back in shock.
‘I have nothing!’ he stammered. ‘Nor do I fight!’
‘We are not raiders,’ Aisla said quickly. ‘Look, we are just two girls, alone.’
He glanced behind them, then out through the common room, where the sea was visible beyond the crude windows. Seeing nothing amiss, the fear and suspicion faded slowly from his face.
‘We are alone,’ Sulitea insisted.
‘Why then do you not come to the front?’ he demanded. ‘Instead of skulking at the rear?’
‘Raiders would come in by the front,’ Aisla pointed out.
The man grunted a grudging assent.
‘We have no coin, nothing,’ Aisla continued. ‘We were robbed and are destitute, but all we ask is a room and perhaps some bread and cheese.’
‘A room? Bread and cheese?’ the innkeeper echoed. ‘For nothing? What of that fine looking axe? Dwarven, isn’t it?’
‘No,’ Aisla answered.
‘What then?’ he demanded. ‘I give nothing for nothing.’
‘Me, perhaps?’ Aisla offered with a despairing look at the company, a collection of some two dozen men, peasants, fishermen and a group of yet rougher types gathered at one long table.
‘In the back room for public use,’ the innkeeper answered. ‘That or nothing. You can stick to sucking if you don’t like the look of this lot. I’ll charge a weight a time, and with luck it’ll make enough to cover your charges.’
‘One weight of iron?’ Aisla queried.
‘One weight,’ he repeated. ‘The girls in Aponan’ll fuck for as little, though I imagine you could charge more. Aeg aren’t you?’
‘Mundic,’ Sulitea answered.
‘Same thing, give or take,’ he went on. ‘Not too popular in these parts, your sort, bloodthirsty barbarians, the lot of you. Still, I reckon some of the boys might enjoy an Aeg girl. A bit of revenge as it were.’
Aisla turned another nervous glance to the main room. If everyone wanted her to make him come she would have twenty-five weights of iron, twenty-seven if the innkeeper and a pot boy she could see wanted it as well. Being men they would want to make her swallow their sperm, or else do it in her face, but the thought was not unendurable. On the other hand if they were like the Hai they would want to beat her, all of them, one by one.
‘Are they likely to want to smack my bottom?’ she asked.
‘What? Do you take us for perverts?’ he demanded. ‘Folk of this coast make no such obscene requests. Still, I cannot speak for Naithal and his marauders, those at the long table. They are Merim islanders and so inevitably eccentric.’
Aisla gave another worried glance at the rough group, weighed the prospect of sex with them against another night in the cold and wet and decided that she could manage it.
‘I’ll do it,’ she said, ‘and perhaps more intimate things for more iron. May I see a room?’
‘Certainly,’ he told her, then swung round towards the common room and raised his voice above the din. ‘Hoy, boys, there’ll be two girls in the back room, this evening, Aeg sluts. It’s a weight a suck but they’ll bargain for more.’
‘No, no,’ Sulitea corrected him hastily, ‘not me, just Aisla.’
‘How’re you going to earn your dinner then?’
‘Aisla will pay for mine,’ she answered. ‘After all, there are only so many men.’
The innkeeper paused to consider her logic, shrugged and jerked his thumb towards the stairs. They followed him to a room on the second floor, small but with a reasonable bed. He left, telling Aisla that if she was not down within minutes he would come and fetch her by her ear.
‘Thank you,’ Sulitea said as the door closed, ‘for not insisting I serve.’
‘You should,’ Aisla answered, ‘but I’d rather you were here to watch over
‘You may rely on it,’ Sulitea assured her.
Aisla prepared herself, discarding her harness, washing from a basin and jug, combing out her hair with her fingers. Stark naked except for her boots, she left Sulitea and went down stairs, already with a big lump in her throat. Mojal led her into the back room, a plain, low ceilinged space with a bare plank floor and simple benches at the sides. Mojal left, only to be replaced moments later by a squat halfling, red-faced and smelling of both beer and fish.
With a resigned sigh Aisla took his coin and got down on her knees. He pulled up his smock and sat down, presenting her with his thick, heavily hooded cock. She leant forward and took it in, sucking quickly to get rid of the taste of fish. When he reached down to scoop up her breasts in his hands she let him, sucking harder and with more enthusiasm as the rough skin of his fingers brought her nipples to erection. He came in her mouth in barely twice the time it took to get him erect and she swallowed dutifully, then sat back on her haunches to find that a queue had formed and several men had watched her sucking.
She set to work, sucking off one man after another and making a little pile of the coins she collected until her lips were sore and her mouth was thick with the taste of sperm, dirt and fish. Most of those who finished stayed to watch their companions sucked, placing small bets on how quickly each would come.
Only when all the locals had enjoyed her and the man Naithal and his companions appeared did she start to lose control of the situation. He let her suck him hard, only to demand a fuck in return for a second weight of iron. Aisla, with sore lips and turned on despite herself, agreed and bent across the bench to allow him to take her from the rear. He was quick, holding her by her breasts as he fucked her with short, firm pushes that set his belly slapping against her bottom as if she was being spanked. The motion increased her lust, and after he had come over her naked buttocks she found herself in need of more.
Her offer was accepted, several men paying two weights to fuck her, always in the same position, until her vagina was dripping male come and her own juice onto the floor. Her breasts felt big and swollen from so much attention, her nipples hard, sensitive buds. With the fifth man inside her she gave in to her need and masturbated as he fucked her, coming to the delighted claps and catcalls of her audience.
Seeing that she was willing, they began to crowd in on her, demanding to know why they should pay when she was getting as much pleasure as they. Aisla, ignorant of the concept of prostitution, could find no answer and soon had a cock inside her for which no iron had been paid. The moment the man had come in her a argument started, those who had paid demanding their money back and those who were still to come laughing them down.
Only the appearance of Mojal himself prevented the customers from coming to blows. Raising his hands for quiet, he declared that all might have their money back so long as they bought more beer and Aisla was common property, for the use of all. Too far gone to protest, she stuck up her bottom and was quickly mounted while another man pushed his cock into her mouth. Even as she was fucked she heard someone call that she was the one responsible for the argument and what had nearly become a fight. Others agreed and Naithal suggested that she should be punished, a cry that was taken up with enthusiasm.
‘Stuff her cunt with pepper-leaf,’ a fisherman suggested.
‘And how then would we fuck her afterwards?’ another objected. ‘Better to rope her breasts and hang her from the beams, low enough to be used at leisure.’
‘We put a wench like that only last week,’ one of Naithal’s men protested, ‘some haughty slut who thought herself too good for us. I say we take this one into the latrine and tie her in the trough!’
‘Yes,’ one called. ‘Into the latrine with her, she’ll make a fine piss-bucket!’
.No,’ another yelled, ‘to the pump! Mojal has a hose and we can flush her dirt box and see her spray!’
Unanimous laughter greeted the filthy suggestion, and Aisla found herself being dragged outside. Her half-serious protests were ignored as she was taken to the yard pump and tied to it by her neck, tight, so that her face was near the ground but her bottom was up high. They formed a ring, watching in delight and calling out obscenities as Mojal fixed a thick tube of woven and tarred reed to the pump.
Her buttocks were held open and some stinking fish grease applied to her bottom ring, then the tip of the hose. Aisla could not restrain a moan as the wide tube was fed up her rectum, straining her ring out like the largest of cocks. With a good hand’s length of hose up her bottom, Mojal stepped to the pump and pulled hard on the handle. Aisla gasped as freezing water gushed into her rectum, then cried out as her gut filled and her belly swelled. A gale of laughter greeted her reaction, the men slapping their thighs or leaning on one another, helpless with mirth at the sight of her, red with humiliation in her foolish posture.
‘Fill her up, Mojal!’ on called. ‘A weight says her stream will hit the wall!’
‘Two says it hits us, the way she’s writhing!’ another cackled.
‘Hold her waist, Mojal, or it’ll go through the window and into the soup vat!’
‘All the better for the flavour! Flush her Mojal, a girl as tall as her can take two presses!’
Mojal depressed the handle again and once more the cold fluid spurted into Aisla’s gut, which at once seemed to bloat and stretch, making a hard, round ball of her belly. Jumping on her toes and kicking her feet, she struggled to contain the awful feelings in her bowels, her efforts drawing yet more laughter from the audience. Tears had begun to start in her eyes, yet there was a hot, wet trickle of fluid running down one thigh that had nothing to do with the water in her rectum. Knowing that the abuse was exciting her just made it worse and she let out a long, hollow moan of misery and frustration.
Then Mojal had the hose in his hand and it was coming out, drawn slowly from her ring to leave her panting, frantically squeezing her buttocks and bottom ring to keep the fluid inside, anything to stop herself from squirting. She knew that to let go would give her audience the final pleasure and herself the final humiliation, yet it was hopeless, even though she had the strength to hold it in her mind betrayed her. With a long sigh and a curse for her own lust, she gave in, coming up on tiptoe, her knees together, her lower legs cocked apart, a posture she knew would make her appearance yet more ludicrous. She shut her eyes in an agony of humiliation as her bottom erupted, spraying water out in a long arc to the sound of the men’s laughter, jeers and catcalls. The stream splashed on the wall, high up, causing awed exclamations and demands for payment of bets, then it was dying, spraying the ground behind her and ending with a wet dribble over her tuppenny and down her thighs. Aisla sighed, a long, ecstatic sound drawn from the blissful sensation of emptying her bowels. Unable to hold herself she reached back, found her soggy sex and started to rub herself, masturbating in a welter of humiliation, determined that her audience should see exactly what she was like.
‘She enjoyed it!’ someone exclaimed. ‘What a slut!’
‘I’m going to bugger her, here and now!’ another added.
Aisla stuck her bottom up, happily inviting sodomy, keen to come with a cock in her rectum, her vagina, or anywhere else they chose to use.
‘Hold hard boys,’ Mojal declared. ‘I shall show you a handy trick to enliven a reluctant slut.’
‘Reluctant she’s not!’ one answered.
‘It’ll do her good, just the same,’ Mojal answered. ‘Hold her, and push her arse high, as if she were making a drinking glass of her cunt.’
Aisla continued to masturbate as eager hands took her legs and pushed them forwards, forcing her bottom up still higher until her twin holes were pointed at the sky. Between her legs she could see them beyond the swinging globes of her breasts, gloating over her helpless body. She slowed her masturbation to a gentle, teasing stroking, keen to hold back and so take the full, awful pleasure in whatever new torture or humiliation they intended.
Mojal quickly returned, with a large beer bottle and a copper funnel. More fish grease was applied to her anus, Mojal sticking a finger deep into her chamber. The funnel followed, pushed well up until her ring was straining on the hard copper. She clamped her hole on it, holding it up obligingly for her own degradation.
She watched it all as they held her tight, the funnel protruding skywards from her anus. Mojal took the beer bottle, and, making very sure that she could see, began to pour it into the funnel. Aisla felt the cold beer as it touched the hot flesh of her rectum, then the same obscene bloating feeling she had had with the enema, only worse as it bubbled inside her.
Then the alcohol hit her, drawn straight in through the absorbent wall of her gut with nothing to slow it and she realised the full wickedness of what was being done to her. In moments her head was swimming, her feelings becoming ever more lewd as she became drunk with extraordinary speed. She began to rub harder at her sex, then to beg for cocks, in her vagina, in her mouth, up her beer filled bottom.
The last of the beer trickled into her rectum and she thought her pleas were to be answered as Mojal took hold of the funnel. Instead he took a fat cork from his pocket and quickly plugged her anus, popping it into the tight hole the instant the funnel had been withdrawn. They let go of her and Aisla’s legs began to slip apart, the beer sloshing in her gut as she slumped drunkenly to the ground, still masturbating.
She came, screaming in pleasure and clutching over and over at her sex. The cork shot from her bottom, followed by a great spray of beer as she emptied the contents of her bottom behind her. Too late they began to respond to her demands to for sex. She was entered, in her sodden vagina. A man thrust his penis into her mouth, fucking her head with his hand twisted hard into her hair. Again and again she was used, without ever being given a chance to recover herself. Cocks went into her mouth, her vagina, her anus, her hands, even her armpits, leaving her sticky and slimy with sperm. Mojal went last, up her bottom with his fat belly slapping on her cheeks as he buggered her. He came, made her suck his penis and then washed her down from the pump before untying her.
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