The Pillaging of an Empire

by Amanda Clover

  “Oh gods of the sands! Yes! Mistress! Please! I’m yours! Your ah… s-slutty cow! Claim me, mistress. Take meeee!”

  Luxa laughed and kissed the panting dancer. Immediately Asiana yielded to those hot lips, moaning in delight as that sinful tongue slithered into her mouth. Oh gods. Oh gods she could feel Luxa’s breasts press against her own, rubbing her whorish teats. She could feel the demon’s thrusts grow fiercer. The demon’s cock throb. Pulse. And… and…

  “Mnnnnn!” she moaned into those lips as Luxa came. As searing cum pumped into her waiting cove. Stuffing her womb. Her depths. Searing away the last of her resistance to this monstrous woman. Her breasts swelled, taking in the demon’s essence. Milk oozed from her nipples, lubing up their rubbing tits. Slickening Asiana’s chest.

  And still the demoness fucked her.

  Asiana couldn’t focus. She couldn’t think. Every thrust of the demon’s hips scattered her. Overwhelmed her. Filled her with another wave of utter ecstasy. Oblivion of pleasure awaited her, and she fell into it, losing herself in the fucking. In the pleasure.

  Lost, lost, to the demoness’s lusts.

  The Corrupted Potion

  Red magic crackled like static off ancient sconces. Licked off stones and withered the weeds that sprouted between the cracks. Bare feet padded through the ancient hall. Crimson hair bounced about a face of cruel beauty. Naked, her soft curves on full display, the Red Witch walked through the corridor and to the waiting door. Her nose twitched at the spicy scent of sex and pheromones. She smirked and knocked.

  After a moment the door opened, Luxa filling it. The demoness looked down and brightened. “My lady,” the demoness said with a mocking bow.

  “Hello Luxa.” The Red Witch peered around the demoness and to the lab. A bed had been arranged within, and resting on it was a curvy young woman, her tanned skin a deeper hue from a flush, cum and milk staining the sheets and her, her eyes lidded, tits heaving with laboured breaths. “Having fun?”

  “Oh yes,” the demoness cackled. “So much. Mortals are such a delight to fuck.”

  “No doubt. Not having too much fun to finish your task, were you?”

  “Not at all. Here you are, as promised.”

  The Red Witch’s eyes flashed as she took the vial from the succubus. The contents swirled, pale and creamy, yet veined with strange, smoky darkness that shifted and twisted in the light.

  “As promised. The distilled essence of monsters and beasts. A potion of unspeakable corruption. What are you going to do with such a thing?”

  “I have some ideas,” the Red Witch said. She glanced back at the figure on the bed. “And what of her? Going to toss her back to the gertlings?”

  Luxa glanced back lazily, her lips twitching up. “Mmm. No. I think I’ll keep this one. It’s nice to have such a willing slut to help relieve all the tension of the day. And besides,” Luxa chuckled, her tongue flicking across her lips. “Milk that delicious needs a true connoisseur to appreciate it.”

  The Red Witch laughed. “Well, enjoy her, Luxa. You’ve earned it.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Luxa grinned as she shut the door. “I will.”

  As the Red Witch stepped into the courtyard, she heard moans and whimpers of pleasure echo from the ruined keep. The sorceress smirked and shook her head, and walked off into the tangled forest and the darkness of the night.

  < TABLE OF CONTENTS | NEXT UNCENSORED COVER >

  Book Fifteen

  Pleasure Hive of the Breeders

  By Amanda Clover and Jay Aury

  @amandasmut

  Cover artwork by Deilan12

  Map of the Empire of Istanov

  Prey

  It was madness to wander the woods of Istanov at night. Even before the monsters rose from the shadows to crush the realms of men, the darkness was the domain of things best left undisturbed. The lair of wicked things that haunted the tales of midwives and nannies. The pages of mage’s tomes and books that priests bound in iron and chains. And certainly no one dared the deep forests. Yet Lania had no choice. None at all. For the days no longer offered safety.

  At times, she wondered if there was any chance of safety left in her world? She doubted it. Aside from being the broodmother of a monster, enslaved by their seed and dark sorcery, life was but an endless nightmare of terror and waiting. And to become the breeder of a monster was no life. Not really. She’d seen the fates of those. How their eyes had emptied as the monsters and creatures came within them. When the mark of the eye was burned upon their mons and the women became no more than the eager slaves of their brutal masters. She’d seen it all from her hiding place in the cellar while the monsters sacked her town, killing or eating the men, and claiming the women.

  Of the two, Lania knew which fate she would choose.

  And yet she’d lived. Survived. Found other survivors and banded together against a world once familiar, now turned against them. She shivered in the cold, pulling her cloak closer. Around her moved the rest of the refugees. There had once been hundreds of them, but that number had been steadily whittled away. Taken in the night, in raids, in battle. Now, only thirty remained. Scared. Scattered.

  But hopeful. So long as mankind had freedom somewhere, there was hope. Rumors of the emperor fortified in the capital of Moskov or armies gathering beyond the borders of Istanov in Heimsvak and the Lesser Kingdoms. Even Shaddobar. Gods, she imagined standing upon a sun-warmed deck, sailing across the Great Sea to the deserts of that faraway kingdom. Where men could be cruel slavers, but they were only men. She could almost feel that warm sun upon her face…

  “Keep moving,” Michaels said. The former knight was the only one who stood tall. The sword he bore was strapped across his back and over his cloak. He motioned; his hand just visible in the darkness and wane moonlight peeking through the trees. They hadn’t dared a torch. Too many things lurked in the woods. “Come on. We’re nearly at the mines.”

  Lania shivered again. Tauven Mur. The mines of the empire.

  She remembered her grandfather speaking of those endless tunnels. From there the wealth of Istanov had flowed like rivers of silver. The empire had grown fat with fortune, the emperor building himself a throne of that precious metal.

  Until the silver stopped flowing.

  Mined out, the dark tunnels were left to the few who still sought to scrape some of the dredges up. Projects to refurbish the mines were considered, but by then the war with Heimsvak was in full swing and the state turned its attention there. The mines and its communities were left to themselves.

  And the stories.

  Where silver once flowed, stories took their place. Tales of echoes in the deep mines. Of sounds and scrapings and whispers. Of strange structures dug from the raw stone and grip of the earth. Gradually, fewer people left Tauven Mur. The town’s gates were shut. Their people stopped frequenting the smaller villages at the foothills of the mountain. Attempts to inquire were met with barred gates and silence.

  But just as news never came from the remote town, word had in a different way. Michaels had told them that when he’d been a knight, they’d noticed the beasts had avoided the mines. Never venturing up the wooded slopes. That perhaps the citizens in their fortified mines had held out against the monsters until the brutes gave up, turning their attention to other realms, easier to plunder and rape.

  “Or something fouler than they dwells there now,” her grandfather had said.

  None could have denied that. But during the last raid, when their walls were breached and many of their group carried off, her grandfather had died. And without his opposition, and lacking any other option, the decision was made.

  They would go to Tauven Mur.

  The new growth of forest was amply apparent as they picked their way among the trees. The foliage wasn’t so thick. Not quite so dark. Through a break in the canopy they saw the walls that had surrounded the old mining town. Thick, rain-worn stone without parapets, but stout and mostly intact. Surely those walls could hold the
monsters back. Yet no torches burned along their length. The gate lay open.

  Her heartbeat quickened. She looked to Michaels and saw his jaw tighten warily. His sword, never far from his hand, was drawn, a tongue of silver in the night.

  They pushed through the gate wordlessly, only the crunch of their footsteps on the gravel to be heard. The mining town lay before them, beneath the shadow of the mountain. Homes dark and hollowed with neglect, the roofs collapsed in many cases. Cranes rose like bony arms reaching for the sky. The wheel of a mill creaked in the lazy flow of a stream. As they neared the mountain itself they saw the honeycomb of tunnels which bit into the rocks like yawning mouths.

  They approached a large building backing into the mountain. The old iron doors opened to Michael’s touch. Moonlight bled inside, revealing tracks abandoned but for overturned mining carts and the heavy, potbellied shapes of old forges.

  The wind whispered around them. Teased her hair. She brushed it back, shuddering at the hollow sound it made as it whisked into the mountain.

  “Light,” Michaels said.

  Some of the refugees eagerly produced their hoarded torches. Their glow soon crackled, and despite the fear Lania felt strangely comforted by the glow. Her own cast a circle of orange light about her, illuminating the rocks of the mountain the building had been built against.

  “We go inside,” Michaels said. “Be careful.”

  “What?” Lania gasped. “But, the people…”

  “Think, Lania. Why would they stay in the town, undefended? They must have ventured into the mines for safety. We’ll find them there.”

  “Michaels…”

  “We can’t not go in,” the knight said, staring at the tunnels. “Even if there were something in there, how could we sleep not knowing what lies behind us? What could crawl out of there as we slept in the abandoned town?”

  Lania bit her lip, but she had no answer to that. The refugees clustered together as they followed Michael’s light towards the cavern mouth.

  It was warm within the earth. Warmer still the deeper they went. Yet despite their torches, the dark was suffocating. Every step echoed off the walls. Every sound seemed amplified back at them. As they walked Lania’s nose twitched, becoming aware of a strange scent in the air. Something musky yet… strangely sweet. Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out just what that scent could be. It was so familiar. Cloying…

  “Hold,” Michaels said suddenly.

  Lania started from her reverie, stumbling to a halt. The group milled behind him as the knight took several slow steps forward and kneeled on the ground. After a moment Lania worked up the courage and approached. “What is it?”

  “Bring your torch closer.”

  She did as bid. The flames glowed against the floor, where an odd substance grew. It had the look of spiderweb if it were made of moss. Strangely fleshy and thick on the ground. The knight poked it with his sword, but nothing happened.

  “What is it?”

  “Some sort of fungus, no doubt. Such things can grow in the dark and damp.”

  “I’ve never seen that kind,” Lania said.

  Michaels said nothing, but she saw his jaw again tighten. Gently, she put her hand on his shoulder. “Maybe… maybe we should go. We can leave the mines. Go somewhere else…”

  “There’s nowhere to go,” Michaels said, and defeat was bitter in his tone. “We are surrounded by the monster’s territory. So far behind enemy lines… The empress was bested. The Istanov army crushed. Only Moskov still stands. And how far is that? How could we reach it without being taken on the way? And even if we did, what makes you think those walls would still stand when we arrived?”

  “Michaels, I don’t like this…”

  The knight stood sharply. “If you do not like it, then turn back. Become a broodmare for the horde. The only hope for safety lies ahead of us in the mine.”

  He pushed forward into the dark. Lania gave an uncertain look back at the other refugees, but followed, her torch fluttering like a red banner, smoke billowing out behind them.

  But her worry did not ease. In fact, it grew with each passing moment. The deeper they went the thicker the strange, organic substance on the walls became until it couldn’t be ignored. It coated the walls in an almost pulsating mass. And the scent, at first only tantalizing, had grown thicker. Stronger until it fairly soaked her to the skin, sending tingling sensitivity racing through her. Her cheeks were flushed, warm, and to her shame her nipples were hard against her shirt and her cunny slick against her panties.

  She was far from alone. She heard the panting of the women and grunting of the men in their party. Even Michaels seemed a little hot under the collar, sweat beading his brow, gleaming in the torchlight. And the air was so very hot. Like a pulsating steam that breathed across their bodies. There were other tunnels. Others paths they could follow. Where were they going? Did they know? Could they find their way out? She stepped forward to ask Michaels. Reached her hand out to his shoulder again and stopped.

  There were eyes in the dark.

  Screams erupted from the refugees behind her as things swarmed from side passages. Michaels stepped back, raising his sword, a cry of alarm on his lips. A claw scythed. His sword was shattered in two.

  Panic struck Lania like a blow. Pure, animal fear. As Michaels went down in a spray of blood she turned and ran. Torchlight stuttered across the walls. Screams and bodies and shadows intermingled in the mad struggle. She caught a glimpse of dark chitin. A rattling sound that shivered down her spine. She ducked through a tunnel, running, running. Panting. Breathing that hot, cloying air.

  The sounds of battle faded behind her. She kept running, deeper into the tunnels. Did she know the way back out? She wasn’t sure. She was scared. Terrified. What was happening? What had happened?

  The floor rippled with slimy fronds. She stepped over one and the soft floor gave way beneath her. She fell with a scream, but not far. She hit the ground heavily, breath driven from her. But the ground was like a damp cushion. Yielding.

  Her torch clattered away, still burning. For a moment she simply lay there, gasping, trying to recover herself, even as fear threatened to drown her in despair. What had attacked them? What had become of the others? She tried to make sense of that scything blade and those horrible inhuman eyes.

  She became aware of a strange sensation teasing along her arms and legs. Her breath grew deeper. Her vision swam. She felt hot. Feverish. And that smell. That sickly sweet, thick, pungent smell. It was everywhere. It was so heavy in the air she could fairly feel it crawl between her clothes, ooze along her skin, awakening a sweet sensitivity that sang through her.

  She tried to rise, but her shaking legs gave in. She fell back against the wall of the pit, panting, her legs open, her cunt throbbing.

  She wasn’t alone.

  The torch was burning low, but through its light she saw things before her. Soft moans and the wet sounds of mating. Women were in the pit with her. Their stomachs swollen with unholy spawn, their breasts heavy and dribbling with milk. Their faces were blank, lips parted with ecstasy. Huge, monstrous things loomed over them, thrusting into them, their dark chitin gleaming in the weak light. Swollen worm-like things oozed over the ground, wriggling and wandering this way and that while the women were fucked by their monstrous mates.

  Lania stared, stunned at the monstrous sight. She knew she should be afraid. Terrified. Yet it wasn’t fear that surged through her. Instead, her shaking hand moved down, slipping beneath the band of her belt. “Nnn!” she gasped, hips bucking as she touched her steamy cunt.

  Her fingers slowly slid into her molten cunny, stroking herself as she watched the mating of the women. The strange grubs oozed across the floor, their slimy paths reeking of that strange scent in the air. Her breathing was growing ragged. She plunged her fingers into her slick pussy faster, faster. Her other hand grasped her breast. Oh gods. Oh gods what was she doing? And yet she couldn’t stop. The pleasure enthralled her. Consumed her
.

  “Hah… ah… nnnnn!”

  She came, her orgasm explosive, powerful. Her juices stained her pants and panties in a sticky mess. She whimpered, ashamed, yet still so aroused. She craved more than her fingers.

  Something chittered at her shoulder. She turned her head and saw one of her pursuers. It stood in the light, a horror beyond the monsters of tales. Tall as a man, hunched forward, two arms ended in scything blades. Two others in clawed limbs. Dark chitin covered most of it. It had no eyes she could see, and when its jaw opened it revealed rows of sharp, monstrous teeth.

  And yet, her eyes were drawn down its chitinous body. Down between its legs, where a semi-translucent ovipositor swelled at the sight of her fertile form. Her breathing deepened when she saw the pale orbs of eggs within that breeding pole. Quivering for a host. A womb. The warmth of a woman to grow.

  The monster moved towards her, and Lania didn’t draw back. She stared into the eyeless face of the monster and parted her legs.

  “Yes,” she whimpered. “Please…”

  The monster hissed and leaned over her. Its secondary hands reached out and tore her clothes from her. Lania gasped as the confining fabric was shredded to nothing, unveiling plush tits and her hot cunt to the open air.

  She rolled over onto her hands and knees, panting. A bitch in heat. She raised her ass, offering herself up to the monster. “Please,” she gasped, wiggling her bottom enticingly. “Please. Oh gods, please. Fuck me. Fill me. Do it.”

  The monster chittered. It moved over her, every inch of it predatory perfection. She whimpered as she felt its ovipositor press against her plump behind. She bit her lip, arching, offering herself up.

  And he entered her.

  Her eyes felt like they would pop out of her head as his inhuman shaft filled her slick pussy. She whimpered with every bump of his breeding stick. Gasped as he at last filled her.