Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  “My bollocks could use some attention,” he groans.

  “Oh?” The thought had never occurred to you, but you are only too happy to turn your attention to his cum-heavy balls. You push his cock up towards his belly and dip your head lower, running your tongue over his freshly bathed sack and moving his fat stones within. You draw one into your mouth and gently suck as your hand works his shaft.

  “That’s it, darling,” he moans, his cock darkening to a solid crimson hue as you suck at his balls and wank his hard prick.

  “Mmmmm,” you moan around his ball before letting it fall from your mouth. “Do you want to fuck my ass?”

  “Yes, that would be lovely,” he says. “Best I have a taste of it first.”

  You giggle as you crawl onto your bench and spread your knees wide apart so your plump ass is very low.

  “Lovely,” moans Bog as he drops to his knees behind you.

  He braces your soft cheeks with both hands, spreading them with his thumbs and leaning closer so that his hot breath tickles your pussy and tender asshole. His kiss teases the back of your thighs and between your spread cheeks. You whimper with desire, dropping your dangling breasts and your face to the seat and lift your ass against his kiss. The heat of his tongue begins to swirl and massage against your asshole. It is uncomfortable for a moment, but quickly becomes pleasant and even wonderful as his tongue begins to push into your tight ring.

  Bog is quite enthusiastic with his tongue, perhaps even more so than when he employed it on your delicate cunt. He thrusts his wriggling tongue deep and gasps with lust. You can see over your shoulder that he is using one hand to stroke his cock as his tongue plunges in and out of your freshly-washed ass. He only stops licking your delicate hole to probe it with fingers. He slides one and then two into your ass, spreading your pucker wider and making you cry out with lust and push back against his fingers. You moan as you feel his digits drive deep into your passage. You bite your lip to stifle a girlish whine of lust.

  “I think you’re ready,” he murmurs and slides his fingers out of your asshole. He rises high on his knees and teases his cock against your pussy. He surprises you by thrusting into your dripping cunt, burying every inch of his hardness in your steamy channel. You are so wet from having your ass licked that his cock pushes easily in and out several times. He slides his cock out of your pussy with a soft pop of juicy suction. He declares, “Nice and slick now, my dear.”

  “Go slow,” you whimper, looking back at him over your hip.

  “Of course, my sweet. I will stop the instant you say it hurts.”

  He presses the swollen cap of his cock to your crack, pushing past your soft buttocks and against the spit-washed divot of your anus. Another push and he forces his slick cock into your ass. There is a moment of pain that makes you jerk and then his cock is pushing deeper and deeper. He slides every inch of his throbbing hardness into your stretched pucker. He withdraws slowly and your tender pink ring clings to his cock.

  “Oh, gods,” you gasp, the sensation of his cock sliding back out feeling incredibly dirty. You lift your head from the cushion and look back at him. Bog smiles and thrusts his cock back into you hard enough that his balls swing against your pussy, spanking your slick groove. You make sounds, somewhere between pleasure and pain, but you lack the ability to form any words as Bog’s fat cock plunders your tender ass. As big as he felt in your mouth or in your swollen cunt, his cock feels twice as big in your tight ass.

  “That’s so good,” gasps Bog. “Just like that, my sweet. Ahhhh… your arse is squeezing me.”

  His strokes are slow and steady. His hips pat lightly against your buttocks with each thrust. His balls mash against your tender quim. The sensation of having your ass fucked goes from slight pain to mild discomfort to a warm, raunchy pleasure. You begin to savor each slide in and out of his swollen cock. You lift your head a little more, looking him into eye and moaning to him, “Fuck my asssss.”

  Bog takes that as an invitation to handle you a bit more roughly. He grabs your waist tight and begins to pound his hardness into your tender ass. The force of being well and truly assfucked by the girthy merchant nearly drives you to an orgasm, but not before he lets out a surprisingly savage roar and pumps your ass full of his hot cum. Your pucker squeezes around his spurting rod, milking his cum out until you feel bloated with his spunkload.

  He slides his hard cock slowly out your ass and you feel a silky trickle of spunk from your stretched hole and leaking over your pussy.

  “I… I think I need a bit of a rest,” gasps Bog, his face beet red. “P-pour me some water.”

  You regain your composure, your own pleasure forgotten in the moment, and you fill a wooden cup with water from the pitcher on the table. Bog sips the water and seems to recover his faculties. The flush in his face softens into rosy cheeks. You clean your dripping ass while he watches and then dress in underclothes and a simple gown from your pack.

  For the remainder of the morning, you play games with Bog and talk about politics with him. He is obsessed with the Viceroy of Etermire, one of the lesser provinces of Heimsvak, and you get the idea that this official personally intervened against Bog’s business interests.

  “The gaunt prick,” he mutters. “He hangs around the court in Ludden like a damned vulture, waiting to pick the last gristle from every bone. And I was that bone, my dear. Taxed senseless by the king and then…”

  It goes on and on. You smile and try to interject where you can, but the conversation bores you and your mind wanders to the adventure ahead of you. What monster could have bested your mother and your sister? Or is there more than one? There are few descriptions of the culture that once existed on Ctharne, primitive and dangerous, spanning several villages on the island. Ctharne is often associated with an ominous entity, one of the forgotten gods or so-called “blighted gods” that have been forgotten by history. That god is so well-forgotten that you cannot recall any reference to it by name in any text concerning Ctharne.

  “Are you listening?” Bog asks, interrupting your thoughts about Ctharne.

  “Oh, erm, sorry, I was thinking about that damned viceroy,” you offer.

  “Yes, well, he is most vexing. I was just saying that we have arrived at Halleth Falls. I thought we might step out and picnic together.”

  It is unpleasantly hot and sunny outside the carriage. The southern lands have almost given way to jungle. Cliffs of red clay stone rise above a pool of copper-greened water that forms beneath the impressive waterfall. The rush of the falls and the spray of mist from the churning water cools the air in the immediate vicinity of the pool. Bog’s huge manservant, Langk, has set out a picnic of crusty bread, exotic fruit, and a cured pork sausage that burns with spiciness.

  After the meal, you and Bog strip off your clothes and swim across the pool of comfortably sun-warmed water. You rise beneath the waterfall, the plunging water cool as it spills over your naked body. Bog holds you in his arms and kisses you, smothers his face in your breasts and fondles your shapely ass.

  You look out from the veil of spilling water to the edge of the pool, where Langk is cleaning up the mess you and Bog left behind. Langk stands nearly half a foot taller than Bog and has a thick mane of black hair and a lantern jaw darkened with scruff. His muscles bulge beneath his tight-fitting tunic and each time he bends over to pick something up you catch sight of his firm buttocks.

  Bog pops his lips from your nipple and looks up. He follows your gaze across the pool.

  “Ah, Langk is a simple man. An orphan, you know. I met him as a boy and he has been my aid ever since. He looks rugged, but he is only eighteen. Can you believe it?”

  “Younger than me,” you murmur in surprise.

  “You like him, don’t you?” To your surprise, Bog is grinning as he asks the question.

  “He seems, um, nice enough,” you say.

  “Nice, yeah,” chuckles Bog, pressing against you from behind and reaching around to fondle your tits. “Would you l
ike to fuck him?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” He pinches your nipples and rubs his hard cock against your ass. “Do you want to fuck him? I can make him do that. I would like to see him fuck you.”

  “If that’s what you want,” you say, your pussy practically trembling at the thought.

  “Langk!” Bog shouts. “Take off your clothes and come up here and join us. Penelope would like you to fuck her.”

  Your face is bright red at the way Bog is talking, but all your embarrassment is forgotten as Langk strips off his clothes. He tosses garments aside as he walks around the edge of the pool. His shirt goes first, revealing an almost hairless torso bulging with muscles. Your gaze is particularly drawn to his well-defined abdominal muscles. His body is tanned from working without his shirt and his bronze skin over those rippling muscles reminds you of a statue of one of the gods in Akrane. Maybe Brutestus, the god of endless wars.

  Langk sheds his trousers last, revealing a cock that’s no thicker than Bog’s, maybe even slightly thinner, but is a good half again as long. The crimson tip of his cock is peeking from beneath a hood of skin. His balls are big and hang low.

  It all happens so quickly, as if you have been pining for Langk this whole time. His strong hands caress your body and his lips and tongue explore your breast. You stand together beneath the cool waterfall and he licks your quim and probes your pussy with his fingers. Bog keeps his distance, sitting on a nearby rock and idly stroking his hard cock.

  You pull Langk back to his feet and kiss him hungrily. You stroke his huge cock with both hands, rubbing the tip between your thighs as you work your hands on his swollen shaft. He turns you around to face Bog and lifts your leg to place one of your feet up on rocks. It gives his cock better access to your slick pussy and gives Bog a view of what is happening. Langk rubs his tip at your entrance. You gaze into Bog’s eyes, moaning with pleasure as Langk finally slides his cock into your aching cunt.

  “Ohhhhh!” You cry as he fucks deep on the very first stroke. He holds you steady and begins pounding your pussy hard and fast. His hips slam against your ass, his swinging bollocks bang against your clit, and your big tits bounce with every stroke. You cry with each thrust, your raised foot nearly slipping off the slippery rock because Langk is fucking you so hard.

  “Do you like it?” Bog asks as he gets up and approaches.

  “Ohhhhh, yes, it’s so good,” you cry. “He’s fucking me so deep.”

  “I bet he is,” says Bog, “and you with that almost virgin quim. I bet Langk’s whole cock doesn’t even fit.”

  It doesn’t matter. He is cramming every inch he can into your stretched pussy, driving the tip against your womb with each stroke and rubbing against your clit. The magnificent spear of Langk’s cock is hitting spots of pleasure deep inside your pussy that you never even knew existed. Your orgasm is intense, banging through you like fireworks, producing a cry as you gaze into Bog’s eyes.

  Langk barely makes a noise as his cock jerks inside you. Hot cum spurts against your depths and almost immediately overflows your stuffed pussy. Still recovering from your first orgasm, the intensity of Langk’s ecstasy is contagious. You wail as you cum again, your thighs shaking until you finally collapse into Langk’s arms. His glorious cock leaves you and you feel his cum draining down your inner thighs.

  Langk sits you on a rock with your legs apart and Bog steps between them. He thrusts his crimson cock straight into your cream-stuffed cunt. You wrap your arms around his shoulders just to keep from falling off the rock as he pounds his cock furiously into your creamy pussy. You shudder with pleasure, begging for him to cum in hot, gasping cries. Pleasure takes hold just as Bog’s excitement seems to peak as well. Your pussy ripples around his lovely fat cock and he spurts his seed into your frothy fucktunnel.

  “Naughty girl,” he pants, his strokes slowing as your pussy milks his cum. “I knew you… needed to be fucked more than… I was giving you alone.”

  He’s right. The carriage ride resumes and you and stretch out on your benches in the sweltering heat. You take turns fanning each other. It’s roasting in the carriage, but not so hot that he doesn’t what a last fuck before bed. He takes you on your hands and knees, jamming his fat cock in and out of your pussy until he unloads his seed in your womanly depths.

  “You were sent to me by the gods,” he murmurs, leaning heavily over you and kissing your shoulder. “Stay with me, my beauty. Stay by my side as I travel the world. I will lavish you with riches and drown you in wine. I will give you pleasure you can only imagine.”

  You curl into his arms and kiss him. You are both soaked in sweat. Even the setting of the sun has done little to alleviate the sweltering heat. You feel filthy and used and you think you like it.

  Boggen Luckfen’s offer to remain with him is tempting. The life he could provide you of pleasure and material comfort is like nothing you are likely to find on your journey to rescue your mother and sister. You love your family, but they have treated you as a tool to be used in their own exploits. With Boggen Luckfen, you might find and make a life all your own. And even if you do not succeed, he could make you so wealthy that you could buy a life.

  “What do you say, my sweet?” He asks, gazing into your eyes. “Join me on my journeys.”

  What do you do?

  Refuse to join Boggen Luckfen

  Agree to stay with him as his companion

  Parley

  You’re not letting these freaks any closer. You draw your pistols from your belt and fire one into the ceiling. The report of the gun is painfully loud inside the small tavern and the gust of fire and smoke is enough to make the degenerate patrons of the tavern cringe away from you. Splinters and dust rain down to the floor.

  You point your other flintlock at them and calmly say, “Are we going to talk or are you going to force me to kill all of you?”

  Once they realize your attack was more show than actual violence, they stand back up, but you can see wariness in their eyes. They respect your power now.

  “We talk,” says the bartender. “If we don’t like what you say, we’ll still beat you and take you to the goat. We’re not afraid of these tricks.”

  He glances at the others as if to be sure they agree with him. They nod. You notice the one-eyed old man does not nod.

  “Who is the goat?” You ask, moving the barrel of your loaded pistol back and forth between the men.

  “The goat rules in the name of the great one,” offers one of the men at the bar.

  Another man adds, “We cannot say the great one’s name. He rules Ctharne from the Dead City.”

  “Ain’t dead anymore,” says the old man. “The cult is back in Rhilath. His power is back. And he has chosen lesser ones like the goat to watch over us.”

  Their refusal to give you any straight answers is annoying, but not surprising. It is forbidden in many cultures and religions to speak of dead or forgotten gods. Rhilath though, that is a bet of information. You have seen that city on the map, in the far north. It is the old capital of this island back when it was civilized. Long, long ago that city fell into ruin. Could this “great one” be using Rhilath as the capital of a new empire?

  “What about my sister?” You demand, taking a step towards them. “She has golden eyes like mine, white hair, she is taller and leaner.”

  “Yes, many days ago,” says the bartender.

  One of the men at the bar says, “We tried to catch her to take her to the goat, but she ran away from us. We chased her.”

  “She killed Barrigan,” says the other man at the bar.

  “Is that who it was?” The bartender looks confused. “I thought it was Fordan.”

  “I’m Fordan!” Says the man at the bar indignantly.

  “Where was she going?” You demand, shaking your pistol at them with annoyance.

  “To the black temple in the woods,” says Fordan. “Where all the women go. I’m sure she became one of the goat’s brides.”

&nb
sp; “We have to take you to the goat,” says the bartender, new determination showing on his gaunt face. “He will hurt us more if we don’t. He has our women for making babies. He sends the boys to us.”

  “We could make babies too though,” says Fordan. “With her. She’s pretty.”

  “You’re not touching me,” you say.

  “She is pretty,” says the man next to Fordan. “We won’t hurt you. It’ll feel real nice. We will all make babies with you. Hundreds of them. And then we’ll go get our women back from the goat.”

  You take a step away from them, starting to feel nervous as they look at you with lust in their goat eyes. The old man stands up slowly from his stool.

  “She’s a hunter like that other’n. She could beat the goat. Then we can have the women back and make babies with them.” The old man looks at you with his one good eye. “I know the secret to beating the goat. I will tell you, if you agree to save our women.”

  “If I refuse?” you say.

  “Then we have to fight,” says the bartender. You can see them growing tense in anticipation of that fight. You take another step back from them and consider your options.

  What do you do?

  Get the secret to defeating the goat

  Refuse and fight them

  Give in to father goat

  “Yes,” you moan, yielding to your desires. “I will be your queen. I need to be your queen!”

  “Take hold of my raging member, excited by your beauty,” he hisses.

  You fondle his huge cock with both hands, feeling the warmth of his straining member in your soft grasp. Even though you are taller than him, his cock still seems enormous. You work your hands up and down its length as you kiss him as passionately as he was kissing you. He pushes a hand between your shapely thighs and begins to rub your cunt and pump two fingers in and out of your slick channel.