Fertile in My Ex-Boyfriend's Dungeon 6

by Amanda Clover

  “Oh, Kergel, you look so handsome fucking her,” moans Mishanna, fucking my face and smothering me with her sopping slit.

  “She will be a good bride,” he laughs. “Though not so pretty as you, elf.”

  He leans across my back, stroking her chin with one clawed hand and tilting her face towards him. I can hear the wet smacking of lips and his slimy prehensile tongue as he kisses her, but I can see little past the underside of Mishanna’s heaving breasts. I thrust my tongue deeper, feeling her creamy cunt tighten around my tongue as she cries out against Kergel’s kiss.

  Pain gives way to numbness and numbness to a pleasure that rises from my core. Each thrust of the troll’s enormous cock feels as if it is beating against my lungs, making it hard to breathe. Being smothered by Mishanna isn’t making breathing easier either. But it doesn’t matter. As the troll’s cock swells inside me, stretching me even more, I forget about little minor things like breathing. He’s going to cum inside me. Fill me and breed me.

  And I want it.

  “Mmmmmmmmm!” I cry out against Mishanna’s pussy.

  “Listen, Kergel! She is eager for your seed!” Mishanna laughs against the thin-lipped mouth of the troll. He pulls back from their kiss, shifting his weight against me, but pounding me just as relentlessly with his cock.

  “Do not fear! You will have my seed soon, my lovely human!” The troll snarls, his voice growing more guttural by the moment. He grasps my hips with both hands, slamming hard against my ass and pounding his cock into my core. Faster and faster, his plentiful pre churning to a foul-smelling foam almost as thick as the cum I’ve been licking from Mishanna’s pussy.

  “Mmmmmhmmmhhmm!” I answer him.

  “Ooooooh,” moans Mishanna. “I like it when you talk like that. But don’t stop licking, Beatrix!”

  She grabs the back of my head, holding it tightly as she fucks against my mouth. I have no choice but to obey her, licking and slurping at her folds as Kergel’s cock surges deep inside me. His roar echoes against the underside of the bridge and he grips my hips so tightly that for a moment I think he means to tear me in half. His huge cock bucks deep in my pussy. It jerks again, the hard stones of his bollocks twitching against me.

  Cum spurts forth from Kergel’s cock, flooding my fertile womb with his potent troll seed. I howl with ecstasy, sending Mishanna over the edge with pleasure as she bucks her velvety cunt against my face. As I am filled and bred and transformed into Kergel’s bride, I suck Mishanna’s pussy, drinking her nectar and tonguing her fat clit.

  “Oooooooh! Yes! Join me, Beatrix!” She cries, holding my head with both hands. “Join me as one of Kergel’s brides! We will be with him together!”

  Tears of joy stream down my face as I cum with greater force than I have ever known. The ecstasy of being taken by Kergel’s seed is nearly enough to drive me mad. I am so happy, but my words are smothered by Mishanna as I eagerly pleasure her pussy.

  It doesn’t matter. We will have plenty of time later to discuss the joy of Kergel’s cock. After all, we are going to be his happy brides for the rest of our lives.

  CONTINUE >

  A monument to a wizard’s arrogance

  Mishanna seems invigorated by the moonlight. She walks quickly along the path, following it upstream. The path veers into a narrow valley, flanked by sheer limestone cliffs turned green with moss. The bright moonlight cuts above us, illuminating the opposite cliff face, but leaving us in deep darkness. She seems to like this setting more, but seeing only the cliffs around us makes me feel like we are walking through the jaws of some giant monster rising from the earth. I am also exhausted, trudging behind her slowly enough that she stops repeatedly to let me catch up to her.

  “I feel as if we have been walking for hours,” I groan, shuffling to join her.

  “Because we have,” she says. “We will rest soon. There is a clearing and something built up ahead.”

  I squint into the shadow of the cliffs, but I can’t see anything in the darkness ahead. Soon though I hear the lapping of water and the creaking of something wooden in the water. I think it is a boat, but as we emerge from the shadow of the valley and into the clearing I see we are crossing the stream again (or perhaps another stream) and this one is turning a large wooden millwheel attached to a millhouse made of white stone. The structure is old but intact. There is a statue outside.

  “Zimon,” says Mishanna, approaching the statue which depicts a well-muscled man in delicate alabaster partially undressed from a robe. He is so finely wrought that he looks as if he might spring to life, slipping out of the lower half of his robe to reveal what he is concealing. “Extraordinarily contemptible, even for a human.”

  “There’ s a plaque again,” I say, pointing to a small bronze tablet on the base of the statue. I lean over it and read aloud, “’Is this even my dungeon? I cannot say. But if it is rest you seek, then right this way!’ By the gods…”

  “That does not even qualify as poetry,” says Mishanna.

  “There’s a marker beside the words and it points to the millhouse,” I say, gesturing to the stone building nearby. “Do you think it’s a trap?”

  “With him? Almost certainly.” She brushes past me. “But you must rest. We will risk the danger.”

  As we approach the millhouse, lanterns illuminate behind bottle glass windows, flames flickering invitingly. Soft music plays as we open the door. A fire bursts to life in the hearth and the smell of baking bread fills the air. The millhouse is golden with the light of the fires. There are tables, chairs, and a bed. A feast is spread upon two of the tables, offering us fresh vegetables, fruits, cured and cooked meats, fish, pitchers of ale, wine, and water, and various pastries. There is also a strange contraption near the mill stone, which is not turning despite the water wheel turning outside.

  I want to fall over and cry it all looks so wonderful. Mishanna braces me with a hand on my shoulder.

  “We must be careful,” she says. “We do not know if he has poisoned this food or set some other trap. Eat slowly. Let me smell everything before you taste. I have a poisoner’s nose.”

  I let her sniff a goblet of wine and a roll smeared with fresh butter. She pronounces it “probably safe” and I dig in with relish. The wine is sweet and cold and the roll is warm and rich and buttery. In no time the roll is gone and washed down with the wine. I don’t gorge myself, but I eat my fill, which is far more than what Mishanna eats. She seems content to have some oysters and mushroom stew and a single cup of mead. I’m still eating as she gets up from the table to inspect the millstone.

  “Come and see this, Beatrix,” she calls, leaning over a mechanism of wood and brass levers. I see cogs connecting the millstone to the water wheel. This mechanism also connects to a chair with a carved phallus rising from its seat. As I join Mishanna at this lewd device, she pulls two lever and the cogs lock teeth and begin to turn. There is a rumble and grinding as the millstone begins to slowly rotate. I laugh as the phallus rising from the seat of the chair begins to move up and down with a steady rhythm.

  “It’s a unicorn chair,” I laugh. “Noblewomen have such things when they are dissatisfied with their husbands. But I’ve only read about them. Never seen one.”

  Mishanna pulls another lever and the chair begins to vibrate as the phallus pumps up and down faster. There seem to be two more settings to make it even more intense.

  “Interesting,” says Mishanna, pulling the levers to disengage the cogs. “But I would not trust it.”

  “No,” I say, staring at the motion of the phallus and imagining how it might feel. “No. No of course not.”

  “We must rest,” she says. “There is a bed. You sleep first. I shall keep watch.”

  I don’t argue with her. I walk over to the bed, surprised to find it neatly made and with a feather mattress almost as soft as the down pillows. I strip out of my belt, boots, and trousers. Mishanna pretends to be looking away, but I can feel her watching me undress out of the corner of one silvery-wh
ite eye. She takes up a pose on a chair near the door, watching with her crossbow drawn and resting on one knee, one foot on the edge of the chair.

  I pull the blanket up to my chin and feel sleep beckoning. It would be easy to close my eyes and slip away, but I study Mishanna for a moment longer. Her creamy violet skin color, long ears, pointed chin, delicate lips and nose mark her as a beautiful elf, but it is her extravagant curves that hold my attention. She possesses such strength and yet her generously proportioned body might be mistaken for soft. It is certainly voluptuous. And lovely to gaze upon.

  Her left hand reaches across her body to a pouch on her side just beneath her bust. She opens the top of the pouch and slips out a stoppered vial containing a creamy pink potion. It is the potion we brewed from the cow girl’s milk on the previous level. Mishanna mentioned it would have potent magical properties, but she did not say what exactly it would do.

  She glances in my direction and I quickly close my eyes. Maybe she is thinking about drinking that potion and joining me in the bed. What would happen if I told her to drink it?

  What should I do?

  Rest while Mishanna keeps watch

  Encourage Mishanna to drink the potion

  Try out the unicorn chair to relax myself

  Use a Power Attack to crush the troll

  With arms that long, the troll has the bridge completely blocked. There is no way across the roaring rapids of the stream except through the troll. My hands tighten on the grip of my sword and I stoke the anger burning inside me until it feels like acid in my veins and throbbing in my temples. Every monster wants to fuck me and make me his bride! I hate them all! I will cut this troll and his annoyingly huge cock down to size!

  “Dieeeeee!” I scream, my voice hoarse with raw fury.

  I charge onto the bridge, straight at the troll. Mishanna calls out a warning, but there is no time to worry about her. Kergel sees me coming and hisses with surprise. He tries to attack me as I am charging, but his incredible reach also makes his arms unwieldy and slow. I am inside the reach of his black-nailed claws before he can slash me.

  “Die!” I laugh, looking up into his huge black eyes as I swing the edge of my sword into the gnarled bark of Kergel’s forehead. My attack splits his monstrous face open and stinking green blood sprays out. The troll has no bones, just spongy green flesh and a hide of toughened bark-like skin. I cleave his head open and the troll flops back onto the bridge, gurgling and dying beneath my blade. I am showered in his blood and vegetable stench. I step on his face and use my boot to pry my sword free of the troll’s head.

  “Quickly now,” says Mishanna, rushing past me. “We must be on our way before he stirs.”

  “What do you mean?” I call after her. “I’ve just split his brain in two. I doubt he will be stirring.”

  She keeps running, calling out over her shoulder, “Beatrix! Now! Trolls do not stay dead!”

  “What?” I feel something moving at my feet. Cold fear creeps up my back as Mishanna’s words recall one of the tales of trolls I remember hearing as a child. They can heal any injury. Only fire or acid can scour their resilient life.

  I look down at my leg just as Kergel’s clawed hand closes around my ankle. I let out a cry of surprise as the troll pulls me off my feet. Stunned by the impact, I struggle to wield my sword and hack at Kergel’s arm.

  “Silly girl,” he gurgles, rising to his feet and holding me upside down like Babo’s snare. He lifts me up and opens his huge mouth and for a moment I think he is going to swallow me whole or maybe bite my head off. His face is gruesomely healing, his split forehead sealing shut and the halves of his tongue knitting together. He tugs my sword easily from my grasp and tosses it over the side of the bridge.

  “P-put me down,” I cry, trying to twist my ankles out of his grasp.

  “Of course,” he says. He flings me with incredible force, slamming me into the side of the bridge and nearly over the side and into the water. The wind is knocked from my lungs and my vision swims with pain. He pulls me back onto the bridge and stands triumphant over me. “I forgive you, human. My kind are accustomed to being hated. But you will not hate me for long.”

  “Stay away from her!” Mishanna shouts, charging onto the bridge from behind Kergel. My heart soars. The troll whirls and backhands Mishanna over the side of the bridge and into the roaring rapids. In an instant, my hopes are dashed, and the troll, laughing, is upon me.

  Kergel tears my blouse away with ease, my pert breasts silvery in the moonlight until the darkness of the troll’s looming shadow blankets my pale flesh. His rough hand caresses my mounds, knobby fingers brushing across my nipples and sending soft jolts of pleasure to my clit. I whimper and turn away from the hideous face of the troll. From those pitiless black eyes and that mouth full of fangs dripping with saliva. His prehensile tongue slides from between his teeth and lashes my breasts, spreading a rotten vegetable slime across my quivering flesh.

  “My sweet one,” rasps the troll. “Do not fear me. I will not hurt you now. Only pleasure.”

  He flips me over onto my face and hooks his clawed fingers into the back of my trousers. I try to push myself up on my knees. I whimper as he rips open my pants and strips them down my legs. A single clawed fingertip is all it takes to shred my panties. He palms my creamy bottom with a single hand, squeezing my firm flesh and grunting appreciatively. I look back over my shoulder and see that his cock has risen. It is too big. I am sure he will kill me with his cock.

  “Mmmmmmm. You are too afraid.” He pushes my legs wide and forces me off my knees and flat onto my face again. “Let me calm your pretty flower.”

  His hot breath strokes my inner thighs, my quim, and the crack of my ass. He holds my thighs with his huge hands, wrapping his fingers completely around my legs as his long nose brushes against my buttocks. I mewl with terror and press my face helplessly to the stone, my eyes shut tight. I want to escape this gnarled horror. I want to breathe free of his vegetable stink.

  But there is nowhere to go. No escape.

  “Ahhhhhhhhh!” I cry out as his warm, slick tongue lashes my cunt. His prehensile tongue slithers between my thighs, crawls over my folds, and slips easily into my hot channel. I am violated by the troll’s incredibly long and flexible tongue. It slips deep into my pussy and writhes against my sensitive walls. Stinking slime drips from my mound as the troll licks me out with relish. Pleasure, deepened by the horror of what is happening, ripples through my body. My inner walls flex involuntarily around Kergel’s tormenting tongue.

  The sounds of the troll licking me and the sensations of his tongue invading me and stroking me are almost more than I can stand. Most maddening of all, the troll seems to know my body better than I know myself. He drives me to the thigh-trembling brink and then slides his tongue from inside me. I whimper helplessly. My face burns with shame for how badly I want him to continue.

  “Now,” he rasps, “you are ready to receive my mighty cock.”

  “No,” I cry, looking back as that massive pillar of green flesh hangs over my clenching buttocks. “No! Please! It’s too big, Kergel!”

  “Shhhhhhh,” he hisses, pressing my face down to the bridge. “Shhhhhh. Enjoy the pleasure.”

  He thrusts into me without further warning, stretching my folds wide as he buries his cock inside me. I can feel his cockhead pressing against my womb, bending and rearranging my insides to the point that I can scarcely breathe. He pulls back and thrusts in again. I swear I can feel his cock causing my heart to skip a beat. Kergel is not violent. Not rough. Yet each stroke into my straining pussy feels as if it might break me. There is pain and pressure and a strange and building pleasure as his monstrous precum slicks his cock and my pussy flutters around him.

  “Oooooooooh, it hurts,” I cry as he works the gnarled piston of his cock in and out of my pussy and slaps his warty balls against my clit.

  Kergel has no more soothing words for me. His gnarled hips spank my bottom as he pounds his cock seemingly deeper
into me with every stroke. My urge to escape is gone, my will to fight broken, and I endure the discomfort of his massive cock with welling pleasure. Every muscle in my body seems to tighten and tense. My fingers dig between the cobblestones on the bridge as Kergel’s huge, rough hands encircle my waist.

  “Yes! YESSSS!” He roars with savage pleasure, hilting his cock inside me at last. At that moment, I break completely, my mind snapping as the massive troll claims my cunt and my orgasm throttles his thrusting length. The first spasm of my climax grips his shaft and his cock erupts against my womb. The hot flood of seed into my fertile depths triggers the magic of the dungeon.

  “Ohhhhh! Oh, yes, Kergel!” I cry, as my orgasmic pleasure ascends to new heights. I have gone from the mountaintop to the heavens in a single spurt of troll cum and I love Kergel for showing me the way. I push back against his cock, my thighs shaking as I at last understand my purpose in this world. To be with him. To be bred. To carry his troll offspring and, most importantly, to mate with him as much as possible.

  By the time his pleasure is spent and his cock slips from my creamy cunt, I know the truth: I have been bred by the troll. And I love it.

  CONTINUE >

  Guard against the gnome

  I’m hanging here helpless and Mishanna has my sword. The last thing I want is that creepy little gnome getting his hands on me.

  “Protect me, Mishanna!” I call out. “You have to protect me!”

  “Very well. I will do my best.” Her lack of certainty is concerning. Not much time to worry though as Babo unleashes a shocking series of attacks with his walking stick.

  Mishanna is quick on her feet and good with the borrowed sword. She parries attacks from the horrid gnome and keeps shifting to discourage him from circling around her or coming towards me. When she sees an opening, she takes it, briefly driving him back with a flurry of quick strikes.