by Jay Aury
You turn at the words to see a woman in one of your fellow cages. Her legs crossed, her head tilted back, she appears to be meditating. She’s bald, but sports three painted dots running down her forehead and to her nose, her skin tanned to a bronze. One of the desert tribes from the realm of wrath, her exotic beauty evident, especially with the two gauzy strips of cloth that cross her bust doing nothing to hide her firm breasts and budding nipples.
“What?” you demand.
She opens an eye, revealing golden rings around her pupil. “There’s no point in shaking with fear. Our fate is sealed.”
“To be in Avarick’s harem?”
She scoffs. “Hardly. He won’t be seeing us. Not until we are trained as perfect slaves.”
“What!” you squawk.
The bald woman smirks. “Did you really think Avarick would care what becomes of us? No. We are merely more coins in his hoard, to be dispersed as he pleases.”
“But… I mean… won’t he at least inspect us?”
“Why would he? We already were. Prepare yourself, girl. You will make a fine prize to a demon general.”
You curse, kicking the bars of the cage. Fuck! You should have known this plan was too good to be true. You’ve got to get out of here! You still yourself, taking a deep breath. Gathering your power, you press your hand against the lock.
And nothing happens.
“What the…”
You try again, gathering your innate magic and pressing it to the bars. This time you don’t even feel a tingle of magic.
“What’s going on?” you demand. “Where’s my magic?”
The bald woman laughs again. You’re really getting sick of that. “Did you think Avarick did not know some among his prizes would be sorcerers?” She raps the bars of her own cage, magic crackling off the black steel like blue lightning. “These cages are built as guards against such as those. You have no magic here.”
True fear settles like a leaden lump in your stomach. “But… how…”
“You are trapped here, to be prepared for employment in Avarick’s brothels. For fortunes in gold, he lets monsters and demons fuck his most beautiful slaves. Surely,” she says with a smirk, “you didn’t think he wouldn’t invest us?”
Oh no.
Oh no no no!
You grab the bars, shaking them as if by sheer rage you might bend their steel. But your efforts merely make your cage swing on the end of its chain. You sob, trying to summon the Staff of Domination, but even that fizzles. You moan as you desperately try and think of a plan to escape, even as the truth of your miscalculation settles within you, and all the horrors that it will bring.
Slave to the Greed Lord
Wait
You quickly keep your eyes averted, conjuring the Staff of Domination at the ready lest the bitch before you manage think you’re just some helpless slave escaped from the others. Which, admittedly, you look like, but that’s not the point.
“What’s the matter?” the gorgon hisses with mirth. “Afraid to meet me face to face?”
“No!” you say, watching her scales slide through the coins from the corner of your eyes. You shiver, trying to find a way to keep her in view without looking at her face, and instead find your eyes locked with the ruby necklace that rests between her breasts.
“Ah. I see you’re admiring my necklace,” the serpent croons. “It is lovely, isn’t it?”
You blink. “Um, well…”
“See how it glitters? How it shines? How it sparkles and flashes like one of my lovely eyes?”
You swallow hard. It does glitter very prettily. Like little stars bound up within the blood red jewel. As the gorgon sways, her large breasts bounce it, flashing it, sending it sparkling and shining. Every movement seems to bring out another facet of it. Another glimpse of it. Each so lovely. So fascinating.
You realize you’ve let your staff sag and hastily bring it back up, but you can’t seem to break your stare with the necklace. It’s just so… so…
Enthralling.
“Would you like a closer look?” the gorgon coos.
Something… something about that sounds alarming, but you can’t seem to figure out what. Not while your whole focus is on the ruby. On the shine as it flickers atop her large breasts. “Um, I don’t…”
“Nothing to worry about, sweet thing. Just a closer look. Surely there’s no harm in that. Is there?”
Is there?
“Surely you’re not afraid?”
“No. Not… not afraid…”
“Of course not,” the gorgon croons, her voice a sibilant hiss that masks the tinkle of coins as her coils suddenly rise up from beneath you, wrap about your legs and hips. You gasp, starting, almost looking away.
But then you’re lifted so much closer to her. Right before her large breasts. Her shiny ruby. That sparkling, wonderful, beautiful gem suspended right before your eyes.
“Isn’t that better?”
“Yes…” you breathe, your jaw slack as you stare into the flashing facets of that jewel, no longer even registering the slow tightening of the gorgon’s coils around you. Binding your arms to your sides. Squeezing your tits together as you stare at the gem with awe.
“Good girl.”
Oh. Oh, those words. Those word rush through you like the loveliest wine. You whimper in naked delight, your jaw trembling with the moan that threatens to escape you.
“Do you like that, my dear? When I call you a good girl? When I tell you what a good, obedient girl you’re being staring into my necklace? Losing yourself to my ruby? My pretty gem? My lovely eye?”
“E-eye?” you moan softly.
“Of course, darling,” the gorgon titters, pulling you even closer. Close enough you can smell the faint, iron scent of the gorgon’s scales as you stare into that jewel. “My pretty eye. One of my lovely snakes had it fall out. But it was so lovely, I couldn’t bear to part with it, so had it placed into my necklace.”
Oh, you realize. She had another eye. One you mistook and looked into. What a silly mistake to make. The idea doesn’t alarm you. In fact, you find it funny. Hilarious. Laughter bubbles up in you like fizzy drink. You’re suddenly giggling. Laughing like a brainless ditz. The gorgon is laughing with you, which only makes you laugh harder.
“What a happy ditz I’ve found! What a silly, brainless girl!”
You nod eagerly, never tearing your eyes from her necklace. Oh yes! You’re such a brainless ditz. A stupid bimbo. Getting tricked so easily. But it’s no surprise. Mistress is so much smarter than you are. You never really had a chance. Smiling dimly, you keep staring at the ruby, feeling all your cares and worries melt away. Especially when her coils start sliding around you. Massaging you. Teasing your big, plump breasts until you whimper and moan and pant like a brainless bimbo.
“What a good girl you are! And good girls get rewards. Yes they do.”
“Yessssnnnnn!” you moan as the tip of the gorgon’s tail slides up against your dangling legs, between them, teasing your tender slit.
“Mmm. I do soooo love these outfits of yours. They leave you so open. So unprotected. So vulnerable…”
You can’t disagree with her. You do feel open. Vulnerable. Helpless as the tip of her tail glides along your twitching slit, teasing you to a whimpering, moaning mess of a woman. Your legs are parted, helpless against the assault of her tail, your head increasingly woolen. Heavy. Confused and unbearably horny.
“Does my obedient pet want to cum?”
“Yesssss!” you moan, helpless before her necklace. Her power. Her pleasure.
“Only obedient sluts get to cum. Are you my obedient slut? My pretty slave? My eager, moaning, helpless prize?”
“Yessss!” you cry, wriggling and gasping and so very needy.
“Then cum for me, slave. Cum if you’re my eager slut. My mindless slave. Cum away your mind for me. Let your every thought and memory drip down those pretty thighs. Cum for mistress. Cum! Cum!”
“Yesssssss!” you wai
l, shuddering as you cum, gushing with the wonderous pleasure of her tail. Of her necklace. Of her utter control of your pathetic little mind. You feel the old you dripping down your thighs, lost in the heights of your climax. You whimper, moaning, sagging in her coils, helpless as she strips away all of who you were, and leaves nothing but the moaning, obedient slave she’s caught.
“Good slave,” the gorgon purrs as her tail continues to tease your fluttering pussy. “You’ll be a fine pet for your mistress…”
Slave of the Gorgon
Slave Bride of the Frogman
You sigh, sinking deeper into the warm waters of the bath. Mmm. It feels so good on your aching joints.
“Are you pleased, mistress?” your handmaid, Gladia, asks.
“It is… sufficient,” you say. “Now get back to rubbing the oils in.”
“Yes, mistress.”
She obeys with alacrity. Little surprise. Your husband bought her specifically to tend to you as you deal with the heaviness of pregnancy. She’s a practiced hand at it by now. This is hardly the first time your stomach has swollen with your husband’s eggs, your body used as his personal incubator. Not that you’re complaining. You relish the feeling of his oily cock plunging into your sopping pussy, seeking to breed you yet again.
You sigh, rolling your shoulders as Gladia works her magic fingers into them, her hands moving forward, gliding down to the swollen orbs of your milky tits, nearly as large as your pregnant stomach, which floats among the scented waters like a pale island. You smirk down at your breasts. Bigger and more productive than any other of Boriga’s many slaves. Even the ones brought in from the realm of gluttony. You suck in a sharp breath of delight as Gladia’s arms move down your collarbone and begin to massage those plump orbs.
“Mmmm! Just like that.” You sigh.
“Yes, mistress.”
You hum with pleasure as Gladia climbs about you and into the pool. She’s naked but for the collar around her neck and the brand on her ass, declaring her Boriga’s. Her short hair frames her smiling face as she gently cups your heavy breasts and begins to massage those plump orbs.
“Mnnnn!” you moan, toes curling and body stretching as torpid pleasure oozes through you like warm honey. Your plump nipples are already beginning to dribble their sweet cream, your tits molded and massaged by the eager hands of your slave. “That’s it. Ohhh fuck. I’ve been needing this.”
“You deserve it, mistress,” Gladia says.
“I know. And you deserve something too, slave.”
Gladia’s eyes brighten. “May I…”
You chuckle at the neediness in her face. “I’ll allow it.”
“Thank you, mistress!” she gushes, leans in, and latches on to one of your budding teats.
You groan as the slave begins to hungrily suckle at your nipple. She’s eager, you’ll give her that, and almost pathetically grateful. If you hadn’t demanded Boriga keep her, she likely would have been sold to who knows what denizen of hell. But as your personal handmaid, she not only gets to serve you, but enjoy your pleasures.
Speaking of.
You hum, slipping a hand between her legs. She gasps, bucking as you teasingly run a finger up along her slit, making her moan, lashes flutter with pathetic eagerness as she begins to ride your finger. “Mmmm. Like that?” you purr.
“Mnnnn!” she moans, milk dribbling from the corner of her mouth as she frantically bucks her hips atop your strumming finger.
“Of course you do. You’re… nnn… just an eager milk slave. Needing mistress’s milk. Wanting to… ooooh fuck! Fuck, yes. Yessss! Needing to suck. Suck like a good slut. A good slave. Oh fuck. Fuck yessssss! More. Oh fuck yes mooooooore!”
Your voice rises in a sweet cry of pleasure as you cum, shuddering beneath your eager slut, relishing her groan as she cums with you, adding her juices to the waters with shameful squirts of her twitching cunny.
The clearing of a throat makes you loll your head. One of your husband’s guards stand nearby. The frogmen were once inscrutable to you, but the years of your residence has given you the hints of their inner thoughts. In particular, the reason why his normally pale stomach has flushed a slightly ruddy hue. Not that he dares do anything about his arousal with you. If Boriga knew another male had attempted to mate with you, castration would be the least of their problems.
“Master wishes you in chamber,” the guard says, ogling your plump teats.
“Does he?” you say, rising. “Gladia? My cloak.”
“He say not need cloak.”
Ah, so that’s how it is. Once, you might have been ashamed of your nudity, but that was another you. A spiteful, prideful brat. You’re a woman now, in every sense of the word, and if your husband and master wishes you to join him nude, then you will obey.
You rise from the bath, warm waters cascading over your curved frame. You don’t even bother with the towel, striding through, dripping with every step as you leave the baths and head for your husband’s chambers. Servants and slave and guards alike bow before you, and you relish their deference, even though you know it’s not you they bow to, but your husband. Respect for him translates to obedience to you. Once, the thought of deriving all your power from a bloated, amphibian monster would have made you cringe. But now you know better. Now you know the wisdom of your master.
You hear the soft conversation from outside his chambers, and smirk, realizing the true purpose of your coming. Skin glistening with the oils and waters of your bath, you push through the doors. “Master,” you cry, striding in. “I have come.”
Conversation falls off immediately as both Boriga and his guest turn your way. The frogman has gotten even larger since you first arrived, something you couldn’t believe was possible. His wide mouth widens further as you strut in, taking a seat on the arm of his chair.
“Hrmmm. My dear. What an unexpected surprise.”
“But surely a welcome one,” you giggle, touching his bloated flesh fondly.
Boriga croaks with mirth, his webbed hands cupping your rear hungrily. “Hmm. Very much so. What did you need?”
Ah, so he’s playing this game is he? Well, you’re certainly willing to participate. You give a throaty moan, pressing your ass back into his hand and your breasts to his smooth skin. “Oh master. I was in the baths, and I simply couldn’t get you out of my mind! I need your cock, master. Please. I need it so badly.”
Boriga laughs. “Really now! But my dear, I have a guest. You don’t mind, do you, duke?”
Only then then do you spare a glance to his guest. His broad chest of red flesh and the leather straps which cross it mark him out as a duke of Wrath, his eyes burning with light like foundries of the valley of swords. Back ramrod straight, arms bulging with muscles crossed across his chest, he couldn’t be less like your corpulent husband, but his eyes are arrested by the mark tattooed on your mons.
“Is that…”
“Yes. The Princess of Pride herself,” Boriga croons, stroking you fondly. “My beloved was so eager for my cock, she simply couldn’t resist. But my dear, we were in the middle of a meeting…”
“I won’t be a bother,” you say, sliding down the slopes of his fat body, nestling against his leg, his shaft already making its appearance from his abdominal slit. You stroke his leg, looking up into Boriga’s huge eyes wantonly. “Please, master. I need your seed ever so much.”
Boriga sighs. “Oh, I suppose I must. You do get so randy when you’re stuffed with young.”
“Mmm. It’s true,” you moan, running your tongue up his wedged cock, coaxing it to its full, mighty length. “Mmmm. I’m but a… weak… needy… slut…”
“No reason to interrupt. Shall we continue?”
The duke clears his throat, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze on your plump bottom as it bounces with your eager ministrations of your master’s cock. The slightly bitter, oily taste of his shaft thrills you in ways you could never put into mere words, even if your mouth wasn’t busy adoring inch after inch
of amphibian dick. So you show him the only way that really matters, your soft, pouty lips engulfing his smooth cock and sucking adoringly.
It almost amazes you how close you came to never knowing this life. This pleasure of adoring your master’s cock as he haggles over the prices of weapons and ore, the wrath demon growing ever more distracted by your plump bottom and full figure as you lavish your master’s dick with your tongue. How nearly you came to believing it was your destiny to rule the demon realm, rather than serve. You can almost laugh at the you that once was, if you didn’t find her ignorance so sad.
At the thought of that, you hollow your cheeks, sucking more insistently. Gods but you need your master’s cum. You need it more than anything else. You have to taste him. Swallow him. You hear the frogman’s voice grow heavy and ragged as you suck him nearer to completion. So close. So close.
“Hmmmnnn. Done!” Boriga cries, sealing the deal with the demon with a throaty croak as he stuffs your mouth with cum. You moan, lashes fluttering as your throat works, drinking down his oily seed with slavish devotion. Boriga sags in his throne in sated pleasure. “Hmm… I shall have the weapons delivered… at once.”
“Right. Well, great. Good,” the wrath demon mutters, rising heavily. You give you ass a little teasing twitch at the demon as he hastily shuffles out, limping due to the simply massive bulge testing his mailed pants.
Boriga chuckles once he is gone. “Ah,” the fat monster croons, resting a hand on your head. “Fool. I’d have sold those arms for nearly half what he offered. But he couldn’t quite focus. Not with the Princess of Pride revealing such a lovely scene.”
You laugh with him, pulling yourself up his heavy belly. “Then you are pleased, master?”
“How could I be otherwise? With my fortune secured, my heirs born of such a beautiful womb, and so lovely a slave bride eager for my cock, what more could one desire?”
“Then, perhaps, a reward?” you pant, rubbing your glistening cunny against his cock, still stiff despite filling your stomach with his cum.
Boriga croaks with mirth. “Mmm. Always the greedy one, my dear.”
