Fertile in My Ex-Boyfriend's Dungeon 6

by Amanda Clover

  “Of course, my love,” I say, shifting out from beneath him and onto my knees beside the bed. He watches lazily as I tie an apron over my breasts and belly and around my bare back. He grunts appreciatively at the sight of my bare cheeks as I crawl into the kitchen and begin cooking his favorite lunch of fried minnows, dense bread I bake from his grandmother’s recipe, and butter and cheese made from my milk. I pile food onto the plate and finish it with a sliced apple.

  I am just about to pour him a mug of ale when I feel his hands press against my backside. His lips smack against my cheeks.

  “Oh, my love,” I moan as he reaches one hand between my legs from behind and begins massaging my dark-furred cunt. “Was there something else you needed?”

  “A quick fuck before I have my lunch,” he says. “You know I can’t resist the sight of you in that apron with your buns hanging out.”

  He grabs the nearest footstool and hops onto it as I position myself over the low countertop to offer up my round ass to my beloved Babo. He gives my rump a few smacks and I cry out with delight, wiggling my hips to exaggerate all the wobbling I know he likes so much. I look back at him over my shoulder and arched back and see that he is admiring my ass and stroking his white beard.

  “What are you thinking about, my love?” I ask.

  “Which of your beautiful pink holes I am going to take first,” he says. “Ah, but the lips of your sweet pussy seem to smile at me, my dear. I must have them!”

  He drops his trousers and a moment later I feel the hot head of his cock rubbing up and down the seam of my pussy. It’s something I’ve felt many times before and I struggle to resist the urge to push back and swallow his cock up with my eager cunt. Babo is enjoying teasing my sensitive lips with his cock. I moan and quiver with need.

  “Plllllease, my love,” I cry, lowering my head and offering him my body even more lewdly. “Conquer me with your mighty gnome cock! Take me as you wish!”

  “Ah, my bride, I can’t refuse your craving for my big cock!” He smacks my ass again and hilts his twitching cock inside my pussy.

  Look, I know his cock isn’t actually big. I might have finally found out my purpose in life is being a gnome’s wife and taking care of his every whim, but I didn’t suddenly become stupid. But Babo’s cock feels wonderful. Especially when I clench my inner walls to slow him down a little and tilt my hips just right so the ridge of his cockhead beats against my clit with every stroke.

  Babo is driving me closer to the edge with every thrust, making my milky tits swing and drip into my apron as he spanks his hips against my plush rear. He grabs a pitcher of olive oil and smears two fingers of it into my crack, massaging his wee digits into my clenching pucker. A moment later, his whole fist is up my rear, working in and out of my stretched hole in perfect time to his thrusting cock.

  Does Babo know how to make me cum? Uh, yeah! I wail with ecstasy, clutching at his cock with the spasms of my climax. A moment later, he cackles with glee and explodes deep in my fluttering quim, pouring his hot gnome seed into my eager human depths. His strokes slow and he eases his oily fist out of my ass. I whimper as he finally withdraws his cock and allows his cum to dribble out of my well-fucked folds.

  I turn to him, kissing him and leaning over to suck at his still-hard cock. He laughs and caresses my head, saying, “You become more eager every day. Eventually, you’ll manage to run me dry.”

  “Mmmmmm,” I pop my lips free of his cock. “I’ll keep trying until I do.”

  He seems about to say something else when he stops and sniffs at the air. He frowns.

  “My dear, I am afraid whatever deliciousness you were baking for me is burning.”

  “Oh, no!” I cry, hopping to my feet and nearly bonking my head on the rafters. “The sour cherry tarts!”

  Babo excuses himself to the privy as I rush to the stove and take out the smoldering ruins of my breakfast pastry. It was a special treat to appeal to my beloved husband’s decadent hungers and one I hoped would have him eager to bed me several times as a reward. I sigh, tossing the smoldering pastries out the window and shoving the tray into the wash basin with a hiss of water.

  “Spell fizzled?”

  The voice is just outside the window. I jump back in surprise, but then see that a tall, handsome man with dark hair fading to white at his temples is standing outside the house. He is dressed in a doublet of red silk and a cloak lined with some exotic fur that shimmers with every color of the rainbow.

  “Zimon,” I say, anger swirling with the contentment in my heart to confuse my mind.

  “The very same,” says the wizard, leaning against the windowsill and sticking his head into the kitchen. “How are you faring with Babo, my sweet? Happy?”

  “Very much so,” I reply, my cheeks blushing at the thought of the cum currently trickling down my thigh. “He is strong and wise and, well, he has given me twins.”

  “Yes, he would do that, wouldn’t he?” He reaches in and strokes my belly through the apron.

  I step back and eye him warily. “What do you want?”

  “Only to see if you are happy,” replies Zimon. “I had intended to let the gnome go free and you along with him. But you have made such a lovely home together here in the safety of my dungeon, I hesitate to upset your happy apple cart. Shall I leave you be?”

  “I am very happy with him,” I admit. “I think we should stay here, at least until the babies are born.”

  “Ah, of course,” says Zimon. “A few more months then. I will check back and bring you and your beloved a gift. Perhaps I will find a place where you will be happier.”

  “Th-thank you,” I say, though a part of me still hates Zimon for what he did to me. I cannot deny the gratitude I feel to him. Without his trickery, I never would have met Babo.

  I never would have been the bride of the gnome.

  THE END

  << START OVER | < LAST ENCOUNTER | INDEX

  Guard against the troll as we cross the bridge

  The troll doesn’t seem interested in charging at us or leaving the bridge, but he’s standing dead center in our path. We’ll need to force our way past him if we’re going to get to the other side. I’m not so sure we can kill a troll, not without magic or a lot of fire, but maybe we can protect ourselves enough to make it across.

  “Guard up,” I say to Mishanna, raising my sword. “We’ll take it slow and guard against his attacks.”

  “I am not sure he will allow us to take it slow when we are in the reach of those long arms,” says Mishanna, casting doubt on my plan even as we advance slowly onto the bridge.

  Kergel snorts and growls, shifting his weight from foot to foot and slowly swinging his long arms as if he might leap at us at any moment. As we walk closer, a strong vegetable smell wafts to my nostrils. It’s like algae in a stagnant pond or the smell of a fallen tree slowly being rotted out and claimed by moss and lichen. I taste bile in the back of my throat and try not to be distracted by the troll’s huge cock as it swings and flops with his movements.

  “YOU WILL NOT CROSS MY BRIDGE!” Kergel’s already ugly face twists in rage and he swings his huge fists at us both at the same time.

  Mishanna ducks Kergel’s powerful swing. I block the fist coming at my face with my sword.

  My blade slices between Kergel’s knuckles and up to his wrist where it seems to bite into something as hard as wood. Thick green blood oozes down the blade. Kergel laughs. I try to pull my sword back, but his hand has wrapped around the blade even though the rest of it is still buried in his hand. He twists his hand with incredible force and easily yanks the sword from my grasp.

  Kergel tosses my sword behind him with a clang and a flash of silver. I’m unarmed, but at least my weapon is still on the bridge.

  “Now you will be my wife,” he says, spittle dripping from his monstrous mouth. “Now you will both be my wives.”

  “Never!” cries Mishanna and she vaults over his shoulder and leaps onto his back. She begins furiously stabbing hi
s shoulders and neck, enraging the troll and spraying his green blood everywhere. I take the distraction to run around him and straight for my sword.

  “Silly games!” roars the troll. “Time for them to end now!”

  He grabs Mishanna off his shoulders, holding her by her legs as he swings her over his head like a weapon. I realize – too late – that he is using her as a weapon and Mishanna is aimed directly at me. I only just manage to turn my sword aside and avoid impaling my friend on my blade. Unfortunately, her body slams into mine and my head thumps against the stone bridge as I fall. Darkness engulfs me.

  For a moment, I hear distant laughter. My eyes open, bleary, the back of my head sticky with blood. I sit up and realize the laughter sounds are high-pitched whines of discomfort coming from Mishanna. She has her face pressed down to the stone of the bridge and her ass raised high. Her costume of straps and bandoliers has been torn from her luscious body and tossed away.

  I blink and see the moonlit scene of the troll behind her, moving almost in slow motion in my disoriented gaze, his hips working as he slams his massive cock in and out of Mishanna’s stretched elf cunt. Each thrust of that glistening green troll cock drives Mishanna down into the floor and sends ripples through the meat of her plump buttocks.

  “Mishanna,” I croak, reaching weakly for her.

  Kergel snarls with pleasure, throwing back his head and baring his jagged teeth. He is a ghastly thing and yet Mishanna cries out with ecstasy, “Yes! Ohhhhhh, Kergel! I feel it inside me! I feel your seed inside me!”

  The curse! She has been bred by the troll!

  I scramble into a sitting position as Kergel’s thrusts slow and he draws his massive cock from the depths of Mishanna’s creamy pussy. She reaches for him and embraces him, kissing his knotted chest and the bark like flesh of his shoulders.

  “It is your turn now, human,” growls Kergel, setting Mishanna down gently. He turns and stalks towards me. I scramble back across the bridge and bring my sword up. He is about to strike it from my grasp, but Mishanna steps past him. She takes the sword gently from my hand and sets it aside.

  “You do not need that any longer, Beatrix,” she says, cradling my cheek. She kisses my forehead. “Kergel will take good care of us. Now relax, my sweet, and you will know pleasure like nothing you have ever experienced.”

  I gaze up into Mishanna’s eyes hopefully and nod. Kergel steps over me, blotting out the moon and smothering me in his vegetable stench.

  “Gods protect me,” I whisper and then his hands are tearing open my blouse. Rough fingers slide over my breasts. One hand easily covers my left breast, squeezing and fondling me as he reaches down with his other hand and tears open my trousers. Mishanna helps him by taking off my boots and easing my pants down my legs.

  “There is no need for gods to protect you,” says Kergel, his voice raspy, but his tone gentler. “I will protect you now. You will be my bride.”

  He lifts me up in his arms as easily as I might pick up a cloth doll. He pulls my naked body against him so that I feel the roughness of his hide beneath my sensitive nipples. The knots and warty protrusions that cover his body seem to have a hard surface but yield to the pressure of my body. It is in unpleasant feeling that turns my stomach when combined with his farmer’s cart stench. His rough hands caress my back, my hips, and squeeze my ass.

  I feel his huge cock stirring between my legs. It is not fully erect, but I can feel the huge head of it rubbing against my inner thighs. He brushes his cock against my tender folds and I let out a soft whimper of fear.

  “Be gentle with her,” says Mishanna, kneeling beside us. “The poor girl has never known a cock as magnificent as yours, my love.”

  Kergel seems to try to be gentle. He lifts me up and lowers me onto his cock, pressing the huge tip against my tight folds. I cry out, my fingers tearing at his chest and finding purchase in the deep seams of his inhuman flesh. He pulls me downward and my breath leaves my lungs in a shuddering cry. I am impaled, sinking slowly down onto his cock until it finds the utmost limit of my flesh. The thickness of it ensures I am stretched wide and my womb seems ready to burst open atop his cock. Throbbing, feeling every bump and gnarled knot on his cock as he lifts me up again.

  “Oh, you are doing so well, my sweet,” gasps Mishanna, caressing my shoulder, cupping my right breast in her hand. She kisses my shoulder and neck, her ample chest against me as Kergel begins to move me more vigorously atop his cock.

  “Warm and tight,” he rasps. “Tighter than the elf. Wonderful. Beautiful. You will make such a good bride for me. Tell me your name again.”

  “Oooohhhhhh,” is the only reply I can offer, my head lolling and my hair bouncing in my face as I am forced to ride up and down, my clit pulsing with pleasure despite the discomfort deep in my tummy.

  “Beatrix is her name,” purrs Mishanna. “She is lovely. And eager. She will take your seed so well, my love.”

  “Yes, I can feel you are right,” groans Kergel, moving his hips with the faint creaking of his joints. He lifts me up off the ground, folding me in his arms, standing upright and working his cock in and out of my pussy. My knees are almost against my chest. I can hardly breathe, but I am not sure if it is from the awkward position or the deep penetration of his gnarled cock.

  Mishanna stands and caresses my back as I bounce faster and faster in Kergel’s embrace. There is pain, yes, but there is pleasure to be found as well. To surrender my body to what is happening. Pleasure in submitting myself to that massive troll cock.

  “Oohhhhhh fuck,” I cry, feeling that pleasure rising quickly. Through the pain, through the pressure, bursting from my core and radiating from my clit as well. Every bump on that huge cock stroking me as I cum hard, throwing back my head and crying out.

  “Take my seed now, Beatrix! Take it and be my bride!”

  “Ahhhhh! Yes!” I cry, eager in that moment to feel his cum pouring into my pussy. And an instant later I feel his mighty cock buck inside me, jerking and pulsing, and his seed erupts in a flood. The moment his monstrous sperm drenches my fertile womb, I feel an explosion of pleasure. Joy and fulfillment burst through me along with a strange spasm that is like my orgasm being magnified by a lens. My inner muscles squeeze and caress him, my womb drinks his seed, and I cry out, “Yes! Oh, Kergel! My love! I feel your seed inside me!”

  He bounces me on his cock, emptying his monstrous load into my pussy, his hideous face now rendered handsome by the force of love. I stroke his bumpy face and smile up at his fanged mouth and huge black eyes. The massive hose of his cock finally softens and slips from my creamy pussy. Mishanna, eager for more, drops to her knees beneath me, stroking his cock and slurping up the cum dripping from his tip.

  I am still breathless and in the afterglow of my peak.

  “Oh, thank you, Kergel,” I sigh, stroking his chest.

  “I will protect you forever, my sweet Beatrix,” he says, squeezing me against him. “You and Mishanna. You will be my brides forever.”

  “Yesss!” I cry happily, kissing his fanged mouth again and again.

  “Mmmmmphhmm!” agrees Mishanna, her mouth stuffed full of the troll’s huge cock.

  CONTINUE >

  Dreams of doom

  A warm desert wind stirs the curtains from the open windows and balconies of a luxurious suite. The architecture – of broad archways, hanging lanterns, and onion-domed minarets – suggests a distant land I have never visited. I glide effortlessly, though I can feel generous curves moving with every step. I pass a gilded mirror and see a shapely body barely concealed by diaphanous pink silk, curved blue eyes with thick lashes, full lips, flowing blonde hair, and long pointed ears. I am beautiful, but I am not myself.

  “Nellie?” I wonder aloud, but even as I speak this name in a voice that is not my own, I know that is not who I am. The general appearance is the same, but the details are not. The lips just slightly too full, the breasts slightly smaller, a beauty mark beside the left eye.

  Mollyanna. Molly
. The name comes to me as if a distant memory. Yes. I am that elf.

  And I am looking for someone. Zimon. The wizard. Handsome and powerful. My lover. He is not hear in this chamber. I pad across the suite, distant sounds of night revelry through the open balcony. A breeze that shifts my hair as I pass. Another door. Behind it, I know, is a bedroom I have shared with Zimon. But not tonight.

  The door is ajar. I can hear soft moans and the music of two bodies moving in an act of lust. A gentle push and the door swings open wider. By the golden light of a hanging lantern I see Zimon, naked from the waist down and wearing a padded doublet of burgundy silk upon his upper body. His firm buttocks tense with each thrust as he plows his glistening cock into the red-fringed cunt of the woman sprawled beneath him on the bed. Our bed.

  I know this girl. A dancer, exquisitely beautiful, with curved almond eyes of golden brown, golden skin, and lustrous red hair upon her head. She has a winsome smile and breasts that heave with every stroke my lover takes into her tight quim. Her legs wrap around him and pull him deeper. She is in the throes of pleasure, but she looks away from Zimon and sees me standing in the door. Her face forms into a wordless expression of alarm. She tenses, but does not speak, her hand tightening in the sheets. My sheets, that have tangled my body as I made love to Zimon.

  “Mollyanna! It is not as you think! It is a mistake!” Zimon is looking at me and stumbling back from the bed. His cock, hard and wet with her juices, points at me like a finger. His hand is forming into a casting posture, fingers splaying as he prepares some spell to slow me and dull my mind.

  I am too quick for him. I bolt from the doorway. Running through the suite. My feet slapping on the cold stone as I run past windows and straight for the balcony.

  The curtains part, brushing against my shapely body for a moment, like the last touch of a lover as we part ways. In the night air, on the balcony, for only a moment. High above the city.