by Jay Aury
“Lovely,” Avarick says, and thrusts home.
You buck, crying out at the force of his thrust. His cock is so hot it sends a surge of heat crackling through you. You moan as your pussy clamps down on him, and it would be so easy to claim it was the cursed mark that made the whorish sounds, that caused you to thrust back against his cock as he begins to plow you. Claim you. Fuck you into his desk like his personal secretary slut.
It would also be a lie. Because you know, deep down, that some level of you wants this. Wants this demon to fuck you like his personal bitch. To claim your pussy for his own and breed you.
You know it, because you’re screaming it.
“Yessssss! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me full of your cum! Oh gods. Oh gods yessss! Don’t stop! Never nnnnn! Never stop! Fuck me hard. Fuck me raaaaaw!”
“Yessss!” Avarick growls. “Take it all, slut! Take my cock!”
“Yes! Give me your cum! Please, oh fuck. Fuck! Fuck your trophy wife! Breed your bitch! Fuck me! Claim meeeeee!”
Avarick howls with pleasure, burying his smooth cock once more within you. You feel the thickness of his shaft swell. The heat of his seed throb within you. And then, in a sudden peak, you feel his cum pulse into your welcoming womb.
“Yesssss!” you cry out, the cursed mark flaring, darkening, burning itself into your flesh, binding you to the demon lord of greed. “Yes! Oh fuck yesssss!”
Your orgasm sweeps away the old you. Love blossoms in your very soul for this cruel demon who has claimed you. You collapse atop his desk, babbling in bliss as he continues to saw into you, your pussy desperately tightening to try and keep all that wonderful demon cum within you. So heavy. So good.
“Hmmm,” Avarick sighs, grinning around the stub of his cigar as he glances at the clock. “Not bad for five minute’s work.”
“More…” you moan weakly. “Mooooooorr…”
Avarick cackles as he lights another cigar. “Oh, there’ll be plenty,” the dragon says, and begins to fuck you again.
Nothing he said could have made you happier.
Trophy Wife
Seduce
You take pride in your appearance. It’s kinda your thing, so you know you’re beautiful. Ravishing. Lovely. Demons have always desired you, and you haven’t been averse to playing with them from time to time.
Well, less so now. Especially after the incident with the imp.
You’re getting sidetracked. The point is, you’re beautiful, and you have little doubt the gorgon knows it too. And the best part is, she doesn’t have a cock, so she can’t fuck you into being her slave bitch!
You glance up through your dark lashes, cocking your hip and planting a hand on it. “Oh, but what a waste it would be to kill me,” you say.
That gives the gorgon pause. Accustomed to mortals shivering in fear, your arrogance draws her attention like a magnet. “Is that so?” she says, the S drawn out by her hissing hair.
“Y-yes,” you gasp as you feel her coils slither around your legs, wind their way up your body. You force yourself not to struggle, lest you betray your true intentions. “I… I think we could have much more fun rather than simply killing me.”
“Hmm. A very interesting notion,” the gorgon hisses as she lifts you into the air, your arms pinned to your sides, your heart hammering as the serpentine woman slowly turns you upside down, smirking at your squeak as your filmy loincloth falls up, revealing your tender slit and plump bottom for all the world to see. “And you are a pretty one, my dear.”
“Th-thanks,” you gasp, blood rushing to your head.
“Hmmm. And I do enjoy making such lovely girls as you… squeal… Oh yessssss…”
Again that sibilant, drawn out noise from her hair. But this time you barely notice, for the tip of the gorgon’s tail grazes your unprotected cunny. “Nnn!” you gasp, legs flailing at the sudden tender stroke, but hanging upside down, you’re helpless against her. “I… I…”
“What? Surely this is what you wanted? Ah, or, perhaps, you wanted more?”
You realize suddenly the gorgon’s face is very close. You quickly shut your eyes so as to avoid her own. But that only makes your awareness of her greater. How her powerful coils wrap about you. How her warm breath ghosts against your face. How her tail slides and teases and strokes your twitching cunny as you whimper and gasp, mouth open, lips parted.
And the gorgon’s now pressed against them.
“Mmmmm!” you moan despite yourself, her tongue delving into your mouth, deepening the kiss, her coils drawing you closer, her hands capturing your face, stroking your cheeks, your shoulders, cupping your full breasts.
“Mnnn!” you groan around her forked tongue as her tail at last pushes against your pussy, stuffing itself an inch into you, wriggling about as your legs weakly kick, the strength stolen by the pleasure that twists through you like a venom, poisoning your body and thoughts against yourself. Your head is pounding from being upside down. Your breath gasping. Your body bucking and yielding eagerly to the pleasures of the serpent woman.
“I… I…”
“Are enjoying this,” the gorgon croons, her tongue flicking your eyelids. “Oh yes. I do love your blush. Your flush. Your eager bucks. That’s it, sweetling. Relish the pleasure I offer. Embrace it. Yield to it. Surrender to it.”
“I… oh… oh g-gods,” you moan, your breasts playthings in the serpent’s hands. Your pussy gushing around the plunging tail. You’re close. So close. This wasn’t… wasn’t how it was supposed to go! But you can’t find the strength to stop. To resist. The cursed mark throbs, edging you towards your peak. Pushing you to the brink. To…
To…
“C-cummiiiiiiing!” you wail your body surrendering, your jaw falling slack as you cum, twitching, rocking against the gorgon’s tail as you submit to the ecstasy of your high.
“Open your eyes.”
You don’t even think about it. You just do. Your eyes drift open.
And the gorgon’s golden gaze meets them.
“Ah…” you gasp as you feel your body stiffen, your face locked in rapture as your skin turns to bronze, then copper, then a pure golden sheen. Your breasts tingle as your nipples harden to purest gold. As your legs creak to a halt in the midst of kicking with pleasure.
The gorgon smirks as she admires your form, trapped in the moment of orgasmic bliss. A perfect statuette to the wonders of gold and greed and pleasure.
“Mmm. Some of my finest work yet,” she says as she deposits you among the other statues that litter the floor, your quest ending in bliss and gold.
Bad End
Index Start Over
Parlay
“Wait!” you cry, taking a quick step back, even as the golem takes a step forward. “We can talk about this!”
“NONE MAAAAY ENTERRRR THE VAULT!” the golem bellows.
“But… but lots of people do!” you say. “Guards! Treasurers! Avarick!”
Sadly, the golem seems disinterested in logic. Even worse, his rebuttal is a fist like a freight train that smashes your bones to powder in a single mighty blow.
Bad End
Index Start Over
Attack
You flick your wrist, your ring flaring and conjuring into your hand the Staff of Domination. As your grip closes, you feel the might of the weapon rush upwards into your arms. You hurl yourself aside as the golem tries to crush you with a fist the size of a horse. You tuck into a roll that sends your filmy garments fluttering and regain your feet, spinning about and slamming the head of your staff against the giant’s leg.
The golem groans, his ankle buckling from the impact of the staff. He tries to turn, but putting his weight on his wounded leg proves a mistake. With a great creak the metal buckles and the golem goes down, falling to his hands and knees with a thunderous boom.
You don’t waste a second for him to recover. Bolting forward, you swing the staff at his head as he turns to look at you. Your staff flares with power as the skull tipping it obliterates his f
ace in a single blow, sending fragments whizzing through the air. Again and again you strike the golem, shattering his head to a crumpled lump.
Chest heaving, you lower your staff, looking at the ruined stump that is the golem’s neck. You tense as he moves, but only for the rest of his body to fall to the floor, unmoving, once more merely a mass of inanimate silver.
You let out a slow breath. Well. That was something. You just hope Avarick doesn’t charge you for breaking his statue once he agrees to serve you. That thing looked expensive.
Speaking of expensive, you turn back to the three pedestals and the treasures which await on them. Now, you might be new to this whole ‘adventuring’ business, but this feels like one of those things where an item will help you on your way.
You consider the three, then shrug. “Fuck it,” you say, and grab all of them. You wait a moment to make sure no pressure pad depresses to suddenly flood the room with molten silver or something, and when nothing further happens, you turn and make your way through the doorway the golem had been guarding, and delve deeper into the Vault.
The Silver Guardian
Silver Guardian
The corridor beyond the golem’s chamber is writ with delicate silver filigree that crawls over the walls like icy ivy, softly glowing in a strikingly beautiful display that even you have to admit looks beautiful. It’s like walking through halls lit with glittering silver veins.
Which is a less benign image when you come to the end of the corridor and what awaits there.
A woman’s figure leans out of the far wall, fused from the waist up like the figurehead of a ship. Her skin has the metallic sheen of steel, her hair flaring out, joining the wall as if she were seeking to burst forth from it, but failed halfway through. Strange runes ring her form, the silver filigree feeding into her body and pulsing softly with a low light.
You halt before the statue, fairly feeling the power of it radiate outward, the silver that courses in veins into her pulsing softly. You look down at the items in your arms.
“Well,” you say. “Let’s see…”
Collar
Crown
Scepter
Magic
You take a quick step back as the golem lumbers forward. Magic glows through your body, racing through you in a surge of power. Your very body vibrates as you thrust your hand out towards the lumbering giant.
Icy winds scream about you, through the air, striking the golem as it approaches. The thing slows, frost blistering across its frame, joints groaning under the grip of deepest winter.
You grin as the golem tries to take another step, only to creak to a halt, swaying softly, frozen solid.
And off balance.
Your face falls as the golem’s bulk creaks forward. “No,” you gasp as it tilts, picking up speed. “No no no no no!”
Another blast of desperate magic manages to slow it for a millisecond, then the bulk of its weight and gravity exert its hold, and the golem crashes down onto you. It’s a small comfort that the construct shatters when it hits the ground since it also hits you, leaving you in no position to do much of anything other than paint the floor in a bloody smear.
Bad End
Index Start Over
Wait
You hold back, trying to guess the golem’s first move, which happens to be an attempt to step on you with its massive foot.
You fling yourself out of the way, the ground thundering under its stride. The golem turns with you, joints groaning as it tries to track your movements. You dash away, grinning. He’s slow. That will give you the advantage.
Is what you think. Then you see his eyes glow brighter.
“Oh,” you say, watching the glow burn in his sockets. “That’s just not fair!”
The golem has no comment, save sending a burst of blazing light from its eyes. You fling about your hands, a shield of magic hastily transposed between you and the golem. You wince, buckling to your knees as the force of the golem’s eyebeams hammers your shield, cracking its surface like ice under a fat man.
The golem strides forward, his gaze pounding into your shield as more cracks spread throughout your barrier. You grit your teeth, trying to hold it. Hold it. Hold it!
The light suddenly ends, the beams cutting off abruptly. You gasp, collapsing on the floor, breathing hard and fast with your exertion.
Which doesn’t give you much of a chance to avoid the golem’s foot as it comes down once more, and crushes you.
Bad End
Index Start Over
Sceptre
You look at the objects you’ve brought. Well, the collar is right out, and the crown is highly suspicious, which leaves the jeweled sceptre. You lift the item thoughtfully and look back to the waiting statue of the woman.
You lift the sceptre, pointing it at the silver woman. “Obey!” you cry.
Magic glows. The sceptre in your hand begins to hum, vibrating in your hand. The statue’s mouth opens.
And that’s not the only thing.
Your eyes are drawn down to the space between the statue’s legs. Widen as you see a delicate pussy part from metal suddenly as malleable as flesh. You look back at the humming rod in your hands.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” you say.
But no other option presents itself. With some exasperation you walk closer to the waiting statue and uncertainly press the phallic rod against the keyhole of her cunny.
“Ooooooh,” the statue moans softly as the rod hums against her quim.
You tighten your lips in exasperation, pushing harder, but finding that the rod doesn’t quite fit. “Come on now,” you mutter, rubbing the tip against the statue’s folds, teasing open those steely pussy lips a bit more.
“Mnnnnn!” the statue gasps, her quim allowing you to slowly insert the rod into the waiting hole. The humming seems to vibrate through the statue’s entire frame, buzzing her, the silver veins of the walls pulsing brighter, glowing more and more.
“Yesssssss,” the statue moans. “Yessssss. Moooooore!”
“Please stop talking,” you say, blushing as you twist and turn the vibrating, jeweled rod in the statue’s pussy. Despite your words, you’re starting to get a bit into this. The whorish sounds coming from the statue’s lips tingle in your core as you gently thrust the rod in and out of her. The humming of the rod vibrates through you pleasantly. You shift the angle, trying to find what other sounds she can make. Her whimpers and pants chime, thrum, buzz from the silver veins as you gently fuck the statue with the sceptre, the jewels that slide free before you thrust them back in coated in shining juices.
“Yessss. Yessss! More! Moooore! So good. Oh yess. Yessss! Oh yes! So good! So good! Yesssss!”
The statue wails as she at last climaxes, her pussy tightening gloriously about the rod, rippling, sucking at the sceptre. You snatch your hand back as juices gush from the statue’s cunny, pouring out onto the floor in a sudden whorish deluge.
Within the statue, something clicks.
Mouth locked in an expression of rapturous pleasure, the wall around the statue groans. Before your eyes the circle which frames her flashes, and parts, swinging her wide open and revealing the room beyond.
You let out a slow breath of relief as you push past the statue.
“Come back soon,” the statue says, her voice slightly muffled.
“I doubt it,” you say as you walk into the chamber.
You walk in, not sure what to expect, but by the intensity of your throbbing cursed mark, you were sure it would be Avarick’s room.
Instead, you stand in another small round room. Statuettes of silver fill small alcoves, and in the middle of the room is a vast pile of silver coins, scattered within as if someone had hastily dumped them there while looking to find somewhere else to put them.
You frown, walking in slowly, your cursed mark throbbing hungrily upon your mons as you climb atop the pile. You turn about, but no doorway lies within other than the one you came in.
“Where the he
ll is he!” you bark, slamming your foot onto the pile of silver.
Crack!
You look down in shock, which is all you have time for before the floor suddenly gives way under you. You scream in surprise as the pile of silver pours through the hole in the floor, taking you with it, raining down in a glittering rush. You hit the mound it forms on the next floor hard, your legs buckling under you, sending you rolling down the slope of rubble and silver to a halt with a groan on some very fine carpeting.
“…Well well,” says a voice. “That’s a new one.”
Lord of Greed
Lord of Greed
You manage to lift your head after some effort.
You’ve landed in a large room of burnished gold. Pillars made of golden statues of men bent beneath the weight of the ceiling line the way. Huge displays filled with invaluable artifacts and gold encrusted items are held behind glass walls. Your heart beats faster as you look towards the end of the hall, where a podium holds a vast desk, behind which can only be the Lord of Greed.
Avarick sits among a desk littered with scales and abacuses and gold. A draconic demon, he’s nearly two heads taller than you, three if you count his curling horns. His scales are a shimmering carpet of gold inlaid with precious jewels, his eyes burning blue and a cigar chomped between his teeth. A thick fur coat drapes him like a cape, and in his claws he grips with surprising delicateness a sheaf of reports.
Avarick glances at the ceiling where the massive hole you made still sends down the odd coin, then back to you. “That will be an expensive fix,” he notes.
You scramble to your feet, your dignity sorely wounded as your feet skid on the coins that have spilled across the carpet. At last, you manage to pull yourself up to face the dragon demon, cheeks flushed, and lust tingling through you.
