“Oh, yes!” I cry, arching atop him, my plump breasts dripping with milk. “Oh, Kergel, fill me once more with your sweet cum!”
He strokes my hips and squeezes my ass, leaning up to lick his prehensile tongue over the dripping buds of my nipples. I cry out, squeezing my breasts and spraying his dark face with my cream as I cum upon his cock. The spasms of my orgasmic pleasure drive the mighty troll over the edge and his cock begins to buck inside me. I feel a sweet rush of ecstasy as his cum erupts against my womb. He cannot breed me while I am pregnant, but it is as if the magic curse tries anyway, and in trying heightens my pleasure. My orgasm ripples around Kergel’s jerking length as he spurts again and again inside me.
“Oh, my sweet,” groans the troll, lifting me from his cock and pulling me into his arms. We share a long kiss sweetened with my milk as his cum drips down my thighs. I cling to him and kiss the hardened bark of his chest. His huge hands caress my back and gently knead my plump bottom.
We are basking in the afterglow of our evening pleasure when there is a snap like a popping ember in the fire and a flash of violet light. Zimon steps out of nothingness, momentarily trails wisps of violet magic. I roll off Kergel and my mighty troll lover rises to his feet, his flaccid cock dangling between his knobby legs.
“What do you want, wizard?” demands Kergel, flexing his claws as I cringe behind him.
“No need to get angry,” laughs Zimon. “I am only the bearer of good news.”
“Speak then. Before I lose my patience.” Kergel snarls and does not relax his stance.
“I see you have one of my ex-girlfriends there,” says Zimon. “Beatrix, wasn’t it? Oh, my, how you’ve grown. Well, it seems you are going to be giving birth to a troll in the coming months. Once the baby is born you will need a new home. Something more comfortable for your little family.” He glances at Kergel’s cock. “I suppose ‘little’ isn’t the right word. The point is, you need a bigger bridge for children. And I’ve found a lovely forest with a bridge for you to claim. It’s a bit off the beaten path, but it is free of my dungeon.”
“Free?” Kergel sits back on his haunches. “You will let us go?”
“I will let you go,” says Zimon. “I am a man of my word. Be seeing you both soon.”
He snaps his fingers and disappears in a puff of violet smoke. Kergel turns to me, emotion welling in his black eyes, and he hugs me against the rough bark of his chest. I press tightly, kissing his chest and then his thin lips as I rise onto my tiptoes.
“Free,” I say.
And I couldn’t be happier.
THE END
<< START OVER | < LAST ENCOUNTER | INDEX
Fetch Mishanna a kerchief
For a moment, I am almost ready to do something truly filthy to clean up my elf companion’s cum-smeared crack. You really are turning into a pervert, Beatrix, I chide myself. I smile and shake my head at how the dungeon is changing me. Or was I always like this?
“What are you smiling about like a fool?” demands Mishanna. “Get me something to wipe off with, damn you!”
“Y-yeah, right,” I say, snapping out of my thoughts. I dig deep into the pocket of my trousers and retrieve a rather worn handkerchief. It’s still a bit damp from getting wet on one of the earlier levels of the dungeon. I pass it to Mishanna and she glares at me as she stuffs it into her crack and begins mopping up the mess Babo made of her.
“No thanks to your plan of escape, I will be stinking of gnome seed for days,” she says.
“Well, my plan worked,” I say, trying not to stare as she does a very thorough job wiping down her ass, her folds, and the backs of her thighs. “If you could have simply beaten him in a swordfight—”
“Watch your tongue,” she warns. “Your clumsy sword is balanced for an oaf. I might as well have been wielding a cook pot.”
“I could have beaten him,” I mutter under my breath. Mishanna’s ears twitch and her eyes narrow. She definitely heard me, but she lets it go.
“I suppose this is as clean as I will get,” she mutters and tosses me back the handkerchief filthy with gnome spunk. I quickly toss it over my shoulder. You need to know when a handkerchief has finally been used up. Mishanna dresses quickly and I busy myself with returning her weapons and retrieving my sword. I make a bit of a show of flipping it around in my hand in a show of dexterity but end up nearly grabbing the blade. Mishanna snorts with derision. “Are you done playing games? We should be on our way!”
“To find that troll he warned us about,” I say.
“If it blocks our path, I will enjoy putting it down,” says Mishanna, stroking her crossbow and sword.
We set off through the wood and back onto the path. After being caught in traps trying to avoid walking on the path, we seem to have reached an unspoken agreement that we might as well walk in the open. Mishanna squints at the sunlight filtering through the trees and avoids the brightest patches that fall onto the path.
I follow a pace behind her, grateful despite our arguing for what she did to allow me to escape.
CONTINUE >
Insatiable lovers
I love the satyr and the satyr loves me. Wherever we go in the golden woods, we have each other. For breakfast we have fruits and fresh-baked bread and I make a dessert of his cock, sliding it into my mouth with relish and drinking his seed. Petr can last a bit longer these days, but in the morning he is always primed by a night of erotic dreams for a quick explosion in my mouth, or upon my face, or between my breasts, or perhaps inside me.
Usually, after our breakfast, we go down to the stream and bathe in the clear waters. It is bracingly cold, but I am there to warm Petr and he to warm me. In the beams of morning sunlight, he takes me beside the burbling stream, plowing into my pussy and filling me once more with his seed. My thighs and buttocks have grown plump with my pregnancy, my belly still small, but my breasts beginning to swell. Usually after our morning bathing and our constitutional (perhaps two) in the grass, he will play his flute while I gather fruits, nuts, and vegetables.
Petr has a strictly vegetarian diet, but he does not mind if I also go fishing or set the occasional snare for a rabbit. So long as he does not have to watch me kill the animal. He is very sensitive about such things. Of course, he is sensitive about everything. He writes poetry and songs for me. He serenades me in the moonlight and we make love under the stars. It is hard to believe that the wizard made the sky above us.
There are others. Petr does not mind sharing me. Sometimes trade with Kergel for fish or Babo for rabbits or acorns. The gnome likes to tie me up and take my ass. The troll likes to cuddle with me and sometimes asks me to pleasure him with my hands or mouth.
I miss my old life. I miss Mishanna. But I have so much to fill my life now. Most of all, I have Petr.
He is as insatiable as me. He takes every opportunity to admire me, sketch me, paint me, dance with me, fondle me, sing songs about me, pleasure me, make love to me, or simply hold me in his arms. He is lazy, certainly, preferring to spend most of his “working” time in his fairy circle piping away on his flute. But he never expects me to be working either.
It’s always nice in his little clearing. Never rains on us or gets cold or windy. All the same, I like a roof over my head, so I enlist the gnome and the troll in building a house. Of course, my payments are made in sex with the two of them, sometimes both at once, but Petr doesn’t seem to mind and I enjoy the change of cocks. I always come home to my beloved mate.
It is my fifth month with Petr and my belly has begun to grow. No mistaking the paunch for a large meal any longer. Petr is leaning against a log, snoring softly, his cock flaccid in his furry sheath after fucking me several times after supper. The baby is shifting inside me, making it hard to sleep. I watch sparks drifting up from the fire to join the stars, thinking about how I will have let Kergel plunder my ass to convince him to lift the roof onto the house he has been building.
The thought makes my little hole clench reflexively. I’ve been keeping
that massive warty cock away from my ass. Unfortunately, this has made plundering my bottom with his knotty cock into Kergel’s personal mission.
“Pondering the profound, Beatrix?” asks a shadow moving on the other side of the fire. I sit up fearfully as a figure steps around the flames.
Zimon Fendriss seems older and less handsome than I remember. He wears a black cloak with silver braid at the high collar. Beneath this, a jacket and trousers with a leather pouch on his belt.
“You,” I say, sitting up, instantly wide awake. “What do you want?”
“I have come to check up on you, my sweet,” he says as he strips off a pair of gloves. “I am glad Petr is asleep. I want to extend an offer to you.”
“What’s that?” I ask him sullenly.
“This realm you are in exists as a sort of dream,” he says. “Not exactly the dream of a man, it is more substantial than that, but the dream of something powerful that slumbers for eons. You can live out your life in safety within this dream, but you will never see those you knew and loved before. But I can set you free, Beatrix. I will do so if you ask it.”
He offers me his hand as he stands over me.
“I would like that,” I say and take his hand. He pulls me to my feet. “Petr and I can start a shop and—”
“Oh, no, I’m afraid not,” says Zimon. “You misunderstood. I can set you free, but not Petr. I need Petr to guard the fairy circle.”
“What? I love him! I can’t leave him behind!” I feel wracked with emotion at even the suggestion hat I would abandon Petr. “Why can’t he come with me?”
“This circle represents my only path to saving Molly,” he says.
“Who?” I feel like I should know, like it’s at the edge of my memory, but I don’t know who he is talking about.
“Oh, don’t worry your pretty head,” he says, and pants me on my head like I am a child. “I understand you love him. It’s the nature of the spell I have put over my little puzzle box. You may remain with Petr.”
“Th-thank you,” I say, relief washing over me, though tempered by the realization that I will be trapped here forever.
“I may visit again,” says Zimon. “After your first baby is born. I’m sure there will be many more. Satyr’s are so potent. But for now…farewell.”
He waves his fingers and puffs out of existence, leaving behind a dissipating cloud of violet smoke. I turn back to the sleeping Satyr, tears welling in my eyes, but a smile on my face. I crawl beside him against the log. He stirs and drapes an arm over me.
“What is it?” He mumbles. “Something wrong?”
“Nothing my love,” I say, snuggling tight against his body. “I’m right where I belong.”
THE END
<< START OVER | < LAST ENCOUNTER | INDEX
Use a Finesse Attack against the gnome
Mishanna is a deadly assassin. I have confidence she could take on a hundred gnomes and carve them up like pheasants, assuming she can get over her revulsion.
“Stop focusing on him as a gnome!” I shout. “Treat him like a goblin or a very short human.”
“But his hands!” Mishanna cries as Babo cackles and strikes at her again. She narrowly parries his attack and is driven back by his surprising speed and force. “They’re awful, Beatrix! Like wiggling grubs!”
“Just a man!” I cry over the clang of sword against iron-hard wood. “Focus on your technique instead of your foe. Use finesse, Mishanna. I could slice him up like brisket. Am I a better swordswoman than you?”
“No!” She hisses, incredulous. “I am the superior blade fighter!”
Prodding her pride seems to work. She assumes a practiced stance and parries Babo’s next two attacks with relative ease. He’s still disturbingly quick, scurrying and dancing around her a bit like an angry wasp trying to sting her. But I can see the calm returning to her. Shoulders down, blade swinging easily back and forth, feet always moving as she repositions herself to follow through on each parry.
Soon, she has him parrying her attacks. She seems to be cautious and I wonder what she is doing until I realize she is sanding beside her own fallen weapons. She frightens Babo back with a flourish and wide swing of her borrowed sword. This makes him tumble away in alarm. By the time he rolls back to his feet, Mishanna has stabbed my sword into the ground and retrieved her own smaller blade and her hand crossbow.
“You think I’m afraid of your little gadgets?” Babo bounces on his feet as Mishanna tries to keep her crossbow aimed at him. “Why I could dance between raindrops! There’s no hitting me with—”
Mishanna whispers something in the elvish tongue and pulls the trigger of her small crossbow. The loaded bolt shoots out and plucks the conical hat from Babo’s hit. For a moment, I think she has hit him as well, as he cries out and drops to the ground. His hat his pinned to a tree trunk several paces behind him. Babo feels his bald scalp and looks up at Mishanna accusingly.
“You nearly got me!” He says. “Now I’ll show you no mercy!”
Mishanna replies with an acrobatic leap over Babo’s head – a flip through the air that seem impossible given her generous curves – and lands jiggling on the other side of him. Before he can turn, she brings my sword down in a rapid stroke and cleaves his walking stick into two pieces. There is a flash of dissipating magic and the broken stick begins smoldering.
“Nooooo! My bimbo bonker!” Babo cradles the stick, crying out in despair as tears pour down his plump cheeks.
“Your game is over, you horrid little pervert,” says Mishanna, flourishing her sword again. He stands up to protest and she kicks him over and slices my sword through the rope belt holding up his trousers. His pans drop and his tiny red cock is exposed. “Oh, dear, it is pitiful! Look at this, Beatrix. This is what passes for the cock of a gnome.”
She gently shifts his manhood with the flat of my sword so I can better see it, red as a boiled tomato and glistening with precum. Babo trembles and softly pleads, “D-don’t hurt me, elf! Please! You’ve already broken my walking stick.”
“Mmmmmm. Maybe I should trim a bit off his cock. It’s nearly as big as my thumb. Too much for him.” She pulls the sword away and looks over at me as I dangle helplessly from the tree. “What do you say, Beatrix? How should I punish this one?”
A cruel smile curls her plush lips. I can’t help but agree that Babo needs to pay for his behavior. He very nearly had us both under his bimbo bonking spell.
What should Mishanna do?
Make him jerk off his tiny cock
Make him pleasure her pussy
Cut off his beard
I’ll wank Petr while Mishanna sits on his face
If overstimulation is what it is going to take to finally satisfy Petr’s libido, then Mishanna and I will have to attack every one of his senses. I take her hand and lean against her to whisper into her ear. My plan is simple and Mishanna agrees to it readily. Petr eyes us nervously as we crawl across the boulder to him.
“W-w-what are you doing now?” He asks as I crawl between his legs.
“Nothing that should surprise you,” I say, sliding my fingers around his cum-smeared shaft. “I’ll just give you a bit more of a wank. Does that sound nice?”
“Y-y-yeah, of c-c-c-course,” he stammers. “But how will…mmmmmmpphhmmmm…”
Mishanna interrupts his objections with a deep and very sloppy kiss, her tongue thrusting into his mouth as she presses her breasts against his chest.
“Mishanna will fill you in on the other details,” I chuckle as I begin to stroke my hand up and down his perfect pink prick. While I’m stroking him, Mishanna uses her tits and her overwhelming kiss to force Petr onto his back on the mossy boulder. Once he’s reclining, she quickly climbs atop him, turning to face me and smothering his face beneath her plump bottom before he could hope to object.
“Ooooooh, very good,” she laughs. “Take a deep breath. Through your mouth, you will be breathing nothing but my cunt. And through your nose you’ll breathe nothing but my ass
. That is all you get until we’re done with you. Now…mmmmm…yes, like that. Good boy. Lick me. Not just there. Oooooohhh, yes, everywhere.”
Petr explodes only seconds after Mishanna sits on his face. Her ass muffles most of the sound of his moaning as he thrusts against my fingers and sprays his cum all over my breasts and stroking hand. Mishanna watches him cumming with a smile on her face. She works her hips from side to side and bounces her ass against his face.
“Do not stop licking,” she warns him. “If you want to breathe at all, you will keep licking. OOoooooohh.”
She throws back her head, lost in the pleasure he is giving her as I continue to wank his hard cock. She uses him without restraint, riding his face so heavily that I fear for his life. Only, judging by his cock exploding twice more in rapid succession, Petr likes being forced to lick Mishanna’s pussy and ass. He is certainly doing a lot of moaning and slurping from beneath her smothering cheeks.
I can’t resist straddling Petr’s furry legs and rubbing the soft folds of my furrow against his cock. Sitting up this high lets me stroke him against my steamy pussy and lean over his body to press kisses to Mishanna’s bouncing breasts. I tongue her tits, and lap at her nipples. She cries out with pleasure, capturing my face in her hands and leaning a kiss down to my lips. Our tongues meet and she gasps, “Yesss! Oh, yes, you slutty satyr! Lick me! AAaaaaa!”
She smothers my mouth with a kiss, moans vibrating into my mouth as she cums atop Petr’s face. Petr thrusts his hips and fucks my fingers and against my rubbing pussy, exploding in a massive spray all over my tummy and the mound of my pussy. Gods help me, all that rubbing against my pussy and the heat of Mishanna’s smothering kiss plunges me over the edge as well.
Ecstasy explodes from my core and I jerk my hips and ride my clit up and down against Petr’s bucking cock. I almost fall over backwards off the boulder, but Mishanna has a good grip on me and holds me upright, kissing me and caressing me.
Fertile in My Ex-Boyfriend's Dungeon 6 Page 21