by Jay Aury
“Yes! Yes! Your slut! Your slave! Ah… ah… Gooooood slut. Good slave obeys. Good slave fucks. Good slaaaave!” you moan.
“Are you going to cum for me, slave? Are you going to cum all around my golden cock?”
“Pleeeeease!”
“Mnnn. That’s what I love to hear,” she says. “Cum, slut. Show mistress how much you love her cock.”
Her permission releases the floodgates, somewhat literally. You scream, nearly weeping at the raw pleasure that burns through you as you cum, dripping, drooling around her pounding cock as your inner walls convulse around her relentless tool. The rubies and emeralds that dot its surface stroke your inner walls in ways that make you shudder with pleasure and submit with panting need.
“Like that?” Salvia says.
“Pleeeeease,” you moan. “Mooooore!”
“Mhm. Don’t worry, slut. There’ll be more. More and more, for all eternity. Well, at least, until you get old and less attractive. Then maybe I’ll sell you and find a new sleeve for my cock. But until then…”
Yes. Until then, you’re hers. Her plaything. Her bitch. Her slave. Tears of joy streak down your face as you thrust back against the golem’s cock once more. She’ll never cum. Her pleasure is entirely derived by humiliating you and fucking you like the dog you are. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy it. In fact, in time, you’ll prove yourself her favorite fuck toy. Always ready. Always eager, always naked but for your gleaming collar and expression of radiant joy as you’re used again and again.
The moment you crowned her, your adventure was at an end.
But your new one as the golem’s bitch has only just begun.
Bad End
Index Start Over
Demand to Speak to His Manage
You round on the guard, hands on your hips, all the indignant pride of your lineage on full display.
“Who do you think you are?”
The guard pauses. “Me? I’m… I’m Severis,” he says. “I… guard… things…”
“And you think you have the authority to force me?” you demand. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
Severis looks at the other guards, who appear quite amused by the sight of your indignant rage and his uncertainty. “Er, a slave?” he says.
“I am Lillian, daughter of the Overlord of all hells! I am not some meek slave to be forced around. I demand to see who’s in charge. I demand to speak to your captain!”
“Er…” the guard says, glancing around uncertainly. Now the other guards are paying closer attention, watching the scene unfold speculatively. “I…”
“Do you,” you say, prodding him on his scaly chest, “want to be the one who ended up forcing the daughter of the Overlord into a cage, given to whatever menial fate awaits me? Hm? Do you have any idea what Avarick would do to the idiot who sold me off like that, when I am worth more than this damn castle? Hm?”
“Um…”
“You’d be lucky if you were fired! Out of a cannon. Into the rivers of lava. Now bring me to your captain! I need to have words with him.”
The guard scratches his scaled head, the shrieking sound of metal on metal making your teeth ache, but in the end, the prospect of a grisly failure trumps his reluctance to disturb his boss.
“Right,” the guard hisses. “This way, then.”
You cross your arms, head tilted back imperiously as you follow the lizard demon out of the chamber. The course winds away down the glittering bronzed halls of the Vault, and you’re brought to a gloomy room, the door open revealing a cramped looking office whose walls are crowded with shelves loaded with books and files. A large desk loaded with paperwork sits before a wizened lizardman, his scales like tarnished copper, his eyes hidden behind a pair of small spectacles. An old robe drapes him, hanging heavily from his shoulders, a quill flicking over reports and documents in the typical bureaucratic business of hell.
As you step through the door, you notice he’s not alone. Several other guards stand at attention around the doorway, no doubt to ferry messages or commands. The bulky warriors give you the first tingle of uncertainty, but you push it aside as your guard clears his throat, drawing the old snakeman’s notice, and he peers at you and your escort from behind the large frames of his glasses.
“Hm?” he says. “What’s this?”
“Captain Rasha, this… er, woman, claims to be the daughter of the Overlord.”
“Hm?” Rasha says, laying down his pen, leaning over his desk, his long form curving like an arch as he and peers down at you like some botanist at a particular specimen. “Is that right.”
“That’s right!” you say. “And I demand to see Avarick!”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Of course I don’t have an appointment,” you say. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“Hmmm. No. I don’t. The Overlord was always quite careful about letting his daughter out in the open. Hmm. Yes. But you do have some of his arrogance, yes. That much is true. Perhaps you are who you say you are. Yes. Perhaps.”
“Of course I am! I would never lie,” you say, bristling with indignation.
“Hm. Yes. No doubt you would not. Yes. Let’s see…”
The captain reaches out and heaves out a massive tome. His thin arms shake as he slams it down onto the table, coughing softly as he leafs through the dusty pages. He adjusts his glasses, peering down at them.
“Hmmm. Yes. Yes. Well, it has been a while but… hm. According to the regulations, one who hasn’t an appointment with the Lord of Mammon, but who has come inside of the keep regardless, is to await an opening in his schedule.”
“Thank you,” you say.
“In the stocks, to be used by any who wishes it to satisfy themselves while they wait for their own appointment, that they actually scheduled.”
Ice trickles down your spine. “What?” you say.
“Don’t worry,” Rasha says, slamming the book shut with a nod of certainty. “The master will likely have an opening in this century. Eventually.”
“Hold on! You can’t just-“
“Take her,” Rasha says.
Severis grabs you from behind. You squeak, trying to yank out of his grasp, but his claws are strong and tight around your wrists. “Wait!” you cry as other guards move in, grabbing you, manhandling you. “You can’t do this to me!”
“It’s hardly my fault you didn’t make an appointment,” Rasha observes, adjusting his spectacles as he returns to whatever work he was doing. “Best of luck.”
“No! You bastards! I’m the daughter of the Overlord! You can’t! You can’t!” you scream as you’re dragged out of the room, and to your fate.
Public Use
Index
Beginning
Boriga
Halls of Gold
Halls of Silver
Silver Guardian
Guard
Avarick
Seduce the Guard
You balk before those barred doors. No, you’re not going in there willingly. But do you really have a choice?
Well, there is one possibility…
You turn shyly to the guard, fluttering your lashes. “Please… please, don’t put me in there.”
“Sorry, girlie. But you gotta go.”
“P-please sir, not that. I… I’ll do anything.”
The guard pauses in the midst of shoving you inside. “Anything?” he says.
You move closer, your large breasts pressing against his copper scales. “Anything,” you breathe.
The guard licks his lips with a forked tongue, his ruby red eyes gliding up and down your stunning curves. “Hrmmm…”
“What’s the hold up?” one of the other scaly soldiers snap.
He starts, grabbing your arm. “This one ah… seems suspicious. Gonna take her to interrogate.”
“Oh really?” his companion says, eying him. He snorts. “Well, fine. But you’re not getting paid for it.”
The guard winces, his natural avarice re
coiling at the prospect of losing money. But as you rub your ass against the bulge of his front, he grins again, evidently deciding you’re worth an hour’s pay. Which is sort of flattering. Except not really.
Well, too late to reconsider your worth now as the guard grabs you by the ass, pushing you before him as she stalks after you and from the room of cages and suffering. Leaving behind those bars is a relief in itself, but now you have to figure out how you’re going to ditch this lizard. As you move into the passage he suddenly yanks you into a side corridor, spinning you around and slamming you against the wall. You gasp at the rough treatment, but before you can react he’s pressed against you, his scales smooth and warm, and his lips against yours.
His kiss is crude. Punishing. His tongue slides into your mouth like the snake he so resembles.
And you’re kissing him back.
Even as you notice this, you realize your body is pushing itself against him, as if the cursed mark on your mons is magnetically drawn to the serpent man’s scales. Your hips rub your pussy against his leg, the silk strip that runs between your thighs pressing against your quim, adhering to your body, much to your growing shame. Your ample tits tingle, nipples hard nubs against the equally smooth silk strips that ‘clothe’ them.
You break the kiss, panting, breathing hard, your head spinning as the cursed mark entices you to this crude demon. Your heart throbs. Molten lust teases upward from your core, winding through your body, increasing the sensitivity of your flesh. It would almost be bearable, were it not for the way the smooth silk strokes your tender spots, making a whimper softly escape you.
“Oooh, a real slut. Just what I was hoping for,” the serpent guard says, pulling your attention back to him as he reaches down grasps the cock emerging from his abdominal slit. Your eyes widen at the sight of his slick, smooth, wedged cock. Waiting for you. Your lips. Your pussy. Ready to fuck you. Breed you. Rut you into the floor like a cheap whore. The idea twists in you, tantalizing you, even as your magic tingles in your hands, ready to be used.
“Time for some fun,” the guard grins.
Suck Him Off
Let Him Fuck You
Blast Him
Let Him Fuck You
Resistance doesn’t enter into it. But him entering you very much does. You can’t think. Can’t plan. Can’t imagine another moment without that reptilian cock pounding your pussy.
You turn about, magic fading from your hands as you press yourself against the wall, pushing out your plush derriere for the guard’s approval. “Please…” you whimper.
He grins, moving forward, crushing you against the wall and his bulk. You shiver in delight at the feeling of his hard body. The heat of his scales oozing into you and making your thighs tremble and beg to yield to him. His hands move around you, grabbing great handfuls of your tits. You gasp, crooning as his rough touch mauls your helpless breasts.
“Mmm. Mammals always have such wonderful assets,” he hisses.
“Oooooh,” you moan, your hips rubbing your ass against his cock, your juices drooling down your inner thighs. Shame burns your face, but it only makes you hotter. Pure, raw lust fills you. Consuming you. You need his cock. You have to have it!
“Pleeeease,” you moan. “Please, give me your cock! I need you… need you inside me. Need you to fuck me sooo baaaad!”
“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he hisses, shifting against you, his cock slipping between your thighs, rubbing his wedged tip against your pussy.
And then, slipping it inside your velvet depths.
“Mnnnnnn!” you moan, your cunt clamping down on the wedged invader, tingling as he begins to saw in and out of you, fucking you against the walls, his claws digging into your plush tits until you know they’ll leave marks. But that’s fine. That’s good. That’s glorious! You want him to mark you. Brand you. Fuck you into a mewling mess. You desperately rut back against his cock, using what little space the wall affords you as best you can.
But it’s him that sets the pace. His strength that holds you down. Him that rams his cock in and out of your drooling pussy.
And he’s going to have his fill.
He’s relentless. Brutal. In your sheltered upbringing, you’ve never dreamed of such raw mating. A distant dream you’re now experiencing first hand as you moan and cry and thrust back against his brutal breeding.
“Yessss!” you moan. “Yes! Fuck me! Fill me up! Mate me! Take me! Breeed meeeeee!”
“Hrrrrr! Hah. Ha! So tight. Soooo tiiiiight!” the guard hisses.
“Yes! Tight for you! Tight for your cock! Oh gods yessss!”
He’s getting close. You can sense it. Feel it in the way he hammers you. His breath growing hoarse. Ragged. The cursed mark fills you with euphoria at the sense of coming completion. At the sense of your purpose so soon to be fulfilled. To accept your mate’s seed. To be bred by his cock.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! Gods yessssss!” you wail as at last the guard slams his cock into you again, hissing as he cums, stuffing your tight pussy with his oily cum. You convulse around his shaft, your tits aching in his hungry hands as your body surrenders itself to his hunger. His cock. As you feel his cum pump into your womb, claiming you, erasing the old you in favour of the moaning cock sleeve you were always meant to be.
Groaning, the guard withdraws from you pussy, taking a shaky step back. You whimper, his body all that held you upright, and its loss sends you to your knees, his cum oozing from you to pool onto the floor.
“Ooooh. Oh master…” you moan, turning about, crawling to his leg. You look up at him in adoration. “Pleaaaase,” you moan, cupping his cock, running your tongue along it. “Moooore.”
“Aw hell,” the guard groans. “I’ve broken her. Fuck! This is gonna cut into my paycheck pretty bad. Unless…”
As your master thinks, you get to work trying to please him, wrapping your lips around his reptilian cock and obediently sucking him. You just know he’s going to cum up with a great idea!
After all, master is so very smart.
Public Use
Public Use
“What about the wool? It’s quite high quality,” the somnolent merchant from Sloth says, his body draped in consuming robes.
“Hmm. Maybe. But, the problem is the fashion is drifting towards black iron jewellery,” the lesser lord of greed observes as his hips lazily work, his scales glittering in the low light of the waiting room.
“Oh no no, my friend! Black iron is a fad. Everyone comes back to demon wool eventually. What is more comfortable, after all? More refined?”
“True. True. But you’ll have to convince Avarick of that first.”
“Mmmmm,” is your contribution to the conversation, a moan made as your lips suck the greed demon’s cock while the sloth demon pounds his own into your pussy.
You rock against the padded stocks, bent double so your peachy bottom is thrust out. Your breasts sway pendulously beneath you, your eyes rolled back as the two merchants leisurely relax themselves by plowing your holes.
“Lovely of them to add this, don’t you think?” the greed demon observes.
“Very thoughtful. Ooooh, quite soothing.”
“I agree.”
“Mmmmm!” you moan.
You don’t mind them talking over you. Everyone does. You’re less than a person to them, after all. Merely another piece of furniture in the large waiting room. As much a piece of the décor and pleasure as the silken tapestries, the immense portraits of Avarick, or the soft chairs where other demons idle the day awaiting the Dragon of Greed’s pleasure.
You no longer have a sense of time, nor how long you’ve been in the stocks. Your mind has crumbled under the endless pleasure of your constant rutting. The only time it stops is so a servant can come and wipe you down, keeping you nice and clean for the next cock to come by.
“And the… the… Hrrrrrr!” the lord of greed moans, the reptilian merchant thrusting his cock deep into your mouth, groaning as at last he cums, filling your mouth wi
th his seed.
“Mmmm…” you moan, lashes fluttering as you swallow every drop of his boiling cum, your stomach heavy with the supply you’ve already imbibed.
“Done already?” the sloth demon asks lazily.
“Ah, well. Can’t take up the spot all day. Shall we speak more on the divans?”
“Delightful suggestion. Let me just… mnnnn!”
He moans, hilting his cock within you. You groan, drooling in pleasure as his thick seed stuffs you in great jolts of cum. He sighs, withdrawing from your gaping pussy. The cursed mark has branded you, but you’ve forgotten your owner in the cavalcade of cocks which have filled the days between now and then.
“So, wool, you say?” the greed demon asks as he zips back up.
“Oh, absolutely!”
The two merchants chat as they wander to the divans where a naked slave supplies them with wine.
You sag in place, gasping, the moment of relief all you have before the shadow of another demon falls over you. You gasp as large, rough hands grasp your bottom, leathery palms running over your flanks hungrily.
“Mmmmm,” you moan, trembling with need as you feel the massive thickness of a horsecock rub against your pussy.
“Not bad,” the new demon rumbles. Such a voice can only come from a demon of wrath. You quiver, panting as the thickness of his manhood rubs your pussy teasingly, whimpers and pants escaping you. Oooooh. You love wrath demons. Always so brutal. So rough. So eager to show you your place. Your ass begins to sway like a teasing pendulum. The movements of a bitch in heat.
His hands grip your thighs, making you gasp, his thumb teasing over the brand that marks you as a house slut. “Very nice,” he grunts.
“Oooooh!” you moan as he pushes forward, burying his massive, flared cock into your depths. The years have made you spacious, but he’s so big he can still stretch you around his length. “Mnnnnn!” you moan, pushing back as the demon grunts and begins to eagerly thrust forward, burying his cock in and out of you. Rutting you like a beast.
