Last Stand of the War Priestess

by Amanda Clover

  “Oh that’s it,” the imp moaned as her nose nestled against the wiry pubic hair, his heavy balls resting against the underside of her lip. “You’re a born cock sucker, slut!”

  Anora opened her eyes. A rejection of his claim was on the tip of her tongue, but the imp merely grabbed her head, pulled back, and plunged back in.

  “Ohhh yeaaaah!” the imp crowed as he fucked her mouth, rutting against her lovely face with every hint of eager satisfaction. “Fuuuuck! That’s it! Suck it whore. Oh fuck you holy types are the beeeeest!”

  Anora whimpered, but couldn’t find it in her to pull away. To resist. What she did find, to her horror, was a sickening, degrading enjoyment in being so brazenly used by the demon. Be it a result of his venom or some torrid lust she’d buried deep in her soul, she found herself moaning, moving, sucking his cock down and swirling her tongue about his shaft like it were the sweetest candy.

  “Fuck! Yes. Yes! Ah! Ahn! Nnnnn!”

  The imp threw back his head, a triumphant cry escaping him as he came, his thick, hot spooge pumping into her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, but there was so much. She choked, pulled back, tears in her eyes, and as a reward, got a face full of his load.

  The imp moaned in delight as his cock pulsed, painting her face with ropes of his viscous seed. Anora whimpered, her stomach heavy with the imp’s cum. And worse. Her body hadn’t burned off that terrible heat. Instead, it had increased. Flaring in her stomach, boiling in her terribly, horribly, achingly empty pussy.

  “Whoops! Oh well. You look even better now,” the imp cackled.

  Anora gaped stupidly at the imp, her thoughts misfiring. Shrouded in a red mist of sinful desire. Her whole body burned with a fever. Her asshole clenched and her pussy drooled.

  The diminutive imp grinned, seeing the lost look in her eyes. Noting how her luscious body quivered and shook with need, smirked. “On your back,” he commanded.

  “Y-yes,” Anora whimpered. Resisting him never occurred to her. She simply shifted around, her back resting against the waiting stone. Her robe fell open, baring her shapely curves, pale flesh flushed, her breasts heaving, her panties soaked with her arousal.

  The imp laughed at the display, a sound that sent another stab of hot desire into the priestess. “Oh there it is. I knew you wanted this,” the demon grinned as he sauntered forward. “Covered in my cum. On your back with your pussy out like that. You look delicious slut.” He leered at her, hooked a finger in her panties and yanked them down.

  “Ooooh,” Anora moaned as her steaming pussy was bared to the cold, cold air. The imp’s smile widened sharply.

  “Now there’s a thing to see! Now, how does this feel?” Brazenly he touched her quivering folds, getting his finger nice and slick with her juices before pushing it into her cunt.

  Anora cried out, her hips bucking as she came right there. The imp laughed at her display. “Ohhh! A virgin too? Oh fuck it all slut, this is my lucky day! And yours. If it wasn’t for me, you might never get fucked ya stupid goody two shoes.” He withdrew his finger, examining her glistening juices still clinging to it, then sucked it clean. “Mmm. Like fine wine. Have a taste, slut.”

  His finger drew towards her lips, and Anora sucked at it greedily. She moaned, her lashes fluttering as she tasted herself on the demon’s foul finger, her lips sliding up and down, soft moans escaping her.

  The imp yanked his finger free. “Alright. ‘Nough fucking around. Time for the good stuff.” He pushed between her quaking thighs, eying her glistening cunt. He grabbed his cock, rubbing the head against her twitching folds. But one final humiliation waited for the priestess.

  “Beg,” the imp commanded.

  “Yesss!” Anora cried out, quivering at the sensation of his hot cock rubbing against her lower lips. “Oh goddess! I…I need your cock! Oh fuck! Fuck me! Please! Please! Fill me with your demonic cock!”

  “Good girl!” the imp laughed as he plunged into her sopping cunt. Anora screamed with ecstasy as his manhood filled her, every thrust of his red cock sending pleasure bursting through her, flashing through her in exquisite shame and ecstasy. Her plush breasts heaved.

  “You think your goddess was good, isn’t this even better?” the imp cackled.

  “Yesssss!” Anora screamed, beyond caring of such blasphemy. All of her, all of her existence had narrowed, been consumed by the pleasure shuddering from her rippling cunt. Her whole body ached with the wonderful pleasure of his cock within her, his venom blazing through her veins. She grabbed her breasts, squeezing them, the pain mingling with the pleasure to bring her to heights she’d never dreamed existed.

  “Want me to cum in you, slut?” the diminutive imp cackled, enjoying it perhaps more than even her. The debasement of the priestess a fiercer delight for the tiny demon. “Want to feel my hot demon cum in your slutty cunt?”

  “Yesss!” Anora cried out, wracked with another shuddering orgasm. “Oh goddess yessss!”

  “Pray to me then. Pray for my cock to fill you up!”

  “Oh master!” Anora gasped. “Oh master. Please. B-bless your slut with your thick cum. Give her the-ah-the g-gift of your cum! Your priestess needs it. She begs for it! Master! Masterrrrrr!”

  The imp cackled with delight. “Alright! Here it comes, slut. Take it… all!”

  With the final shout the imp hilted his massive cock in her rippling cunt. He howled as his balls tightened, his cock quivered, and his seed exploded into the young woman’s fertile womb.

  Anora wailed at the completion of her pleasure. The ecstasy of it was hot. Primal. Consuming. She melted beneath the sensation. Every pulse of his cock blasting her thoughts to nothing. Filling her with a sense of completion. Of adoration. How stupid her youth of service to the goddess seemed before the pleasure she was facing. How worthless her devotion to the cold presence of a distant deity. She nearly wept with the years wasted in her service to the goddess.

  The imp sighed and unsheathed his cock from her cunt. “There we go,” he said, grinning.

  Anora’s eyes slid open as a new sensation bled through her. She raised her head shakily, staring in wonder at her mons. Just above her cunt, a red light was growing. It seemed to emerge from her pale skin, cresting in a strange pattern like an open eye.

  “What… what is it?” she gasped.

  The imp cackled. “Did you think the Duke of Ashes was content just taking land from you humans? Oh ho no,” the imp said. “This is his new sorcery! Him and the Red Witch have been summoning us to support his troops! And with it, we’ve been helping him with some new enchantments. This is a sign, slut. That you’re mine now. Your womb is already seeded and your stomach’s going to swell with my spawn. We’re going to breed out you humans and make a world for only monsters! You’re mine, aren’t you?”

  Anora stared at the tattoo. Dimly, she felt that she should have been horrified by the prospect of being impregnated and conquered by such a pathetic and foul creature as the imp. Yet, as she looked from the mark of the eye emblazoned on her mons to the imp, her heart thumped. Love for the crude creature swelled in her chest near to bursting. Her face lit up with joy.

  “Oh master,” the young priestess sighed, stroking her stomach eagerly. “Thank you so much! Oh. Oh this is wonderful!”

  “Of course it is,” the imp grinned as he strutted towards her. “You’re my slut now. Far better than that stupid goddess, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes,” she panted eagerly. “Of course! Your cock is so much better than her.”

  “Good! Now on your hands and knees. There’s one hole of yours I haven’t taken yet.”

  “Yes master!” Anora gasped. She scrambled about, beyond excited. Her master was going to fuck her ass! Oh she’d never imagined such a filthy thing could be pleasurable. But if master would do it, she was sure it would be just wonderful!

  The imp grinned as the shapely priestess rolled onto her front, her plush bottom in the air. He flicked aside the muddy robe and took a moment to admire the heart sha
pe of her soft ass, simply waiting for the thrust of his demonic cock. This was becoming a great day. He suddenly smacked her ass, making Anora jump and moan in delight. “Stupid slut. You’re too big! Turn around. Ass towards the rock so I can properly fuck you.”

  “Yes! Of course master!” Anora panted, doing as he commanded. The imp climbed onto the stone, his waist now level with her ass. He grabbed her soft cheeks and spread them, baring the wrinkled star of her asshole. He smirked, aligning his cock, still nice and slickened from taking her hot cunt.

  “There it is. Alright, slut. Praise your master!” he cackled, and thrust.

  “Ahhhhh!” Anora wailed in ecstasy as his hot cock plunged into her virgin ass. “Ohhhh master! Thank youuu! Thank you for your cooooock!”

  The imp cackled with glee, his tiny hips slapping her plush bottom. His tail wound about and plunged into her ass once again, filling her anew with his intoxicating venom.

  Anora screamed with bliss beyond anything she had dreamed. Her ass tightened around his plunging cock, her hand rose, plunging between her legs, frantically fingering her cunt as pleasure boiled through her.

  “Ohh master! I’m cumming! I’m cummmiiiiing!” Anora squealed, pulses of pleasure throbbing through her, her juices splattering into the mud as she came again.

  “Stupid slut! Never cum before your master!” the imp barked, slapping her ass again as he continued to fuck her.

  “Nnnn! Forgive your slut, master! Forgive her! She’s so dumb and horny!”

  The imp grinned. “At least you know your place. Here it comes, whore! Here comes your master’s seed right in your slutty ass. Here… nnnyaaaaa!”

  The imp squealed as his cock again exploded, filling her tight backdoor with his oily seed. Anora wailed with delight, cumming again, her orgasm filling her with sweet ecstasy of infernal bliss. “Yes master. Yessss! Cum in me! Breed my ass! Breed your sluuuuuuuuut!”

  The imp cackled, the sound barely audible over the slap of flesh on flesh as he continued his conquest of the shapely priestess, her cries of orgasm swallowed by the dark woods around them.

  The Enemy’s March

  “Anora!” Safira called.

  “How could you let her wander off?” Camilla snapped at Marianne.

  “I’m not her babysitter,” Marianne moaned, wincing at the sharp voice. Her head was pounding with her hangover. She rubbed her brow, miserable. As she had been since she’d been awoken by Camilla shaking her, wrenching her from her pleasant, inebriated slumber. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “You should have gone with her!”

  “Don’t talk to me that way!” Marianne snapped back. “I’m the wife of lord Dorin Rickard. I had three coaches in my home and a manor! I was treated like a queen!”

  “Well you’re not there anymore!”

  “Enough!” Safira barked, glancing back at the pair. “Nothing’s to be done about it now. Come! We have to find her.”

  Camilla cast a furious look at Marianne, who met it with a wall of sullen silence. Safira glared at the pair before whirling about and forging on ahead. She cursed herself anew for having ventured off, even as she knew it had been unavoidable. They’d had to be sure they were safe. What was the blasted priestess thinking! It was like herding bloody cats.

  Safira paused as a low glow flickered across her hammer’s engravings. Her brows furrowed.

  “What is it?” Camilla asked.

  Safira didn’t answer. She scanned the forest, moving her hammer before her like a dowsing rod. The golden runes engraved on the steel pulsed and she halted. Grimly, she forged forward in the way the hammer indicated. She heard the other two follow but paid them little attention. The light on her hammer crackled, the steel hot through the leather handle. Which meant only one thing…

  They stepped into a clearing, a weak light beaming through a break among the tall trees. Camilla followed, her nose at once wrinkling at a pungent, foul scent that filled the space. “Ugh. What is that?”

  “Demon seed,” Safira said, noticing glistening foulness on patches of grass, pressed down here and there. Something flashed in the sunlight, and Safira’s frown deepened as she knelt, brushing aside some grass and picking up what she found.

  The war priestess stared at the platinum amulet in her hand, cold and heavy.

  “Is that…” Marianne murmured.

  Safira nodded, her hand tightening around it. “It seems Anora was… taken.”

  Marianne moaned. Camilla cursed.

  Safira shoved the amulet into her pocket. “Come,” she said firmly. “They can’t have gotten far. If we-“

  “Sh,” Camilla suddenly hissed. “What was that?”

  Safira glanced to the soldier, then cocked her head, listening as well.

  For a moment she heard nothing. Then, from a distance, the sound of something moving in the underbrush reached her ears.

  “Behind the rock. Now!” she hissed.

  Camilla started, but moved, grabbing Marianne and dragging the terrified noblewoman behind the large stone in the middle of the clearing. Hefting her hammer, Safira joined them, ducking behind the rock and peeking out from behind it.

  The sounds grew louder, and shapes moved through the distant brush. Huge, hulking shapes that were unmistakeable to the watching priestess

  Orcs.

  The distant figures snorted, riding what looked to be horses. Guttural voices rolled through the silence, steel gleaming in their hands.

  In the midst of passing them by, one paused, lifting his head as if scenting the air. Safira’s heart stopped when she saw a broken tusk and a rough, scarred face. A face she remembered from that dark night, while the camp of the emperor burned around her and men screamed and died. A face she’d last seen when her hammer had struck, battering the orc from her path as she fled with the others.

  She nearly rose to face the brute, the power of her god burning within her, but a soft whimper forestalled her. She glanced back and saw Camilla with a hand over Marianne’s mouth. The two stared at her, listening with terrible fear to the rustling march of the orcs.

  Safira bit her lip until she tasted blood, smothering the righteous fire of her wrath. Her anger. Her will to slaughter the savage brutes who threatened her and her god. But she didn’t move. She stayed hidden, watching, hating as the orc at last turned away and ventured once more after the others and deeper into the forest.

  Safira let a breath out. She glanced at the others. “We have to go. They’re searching for us.”

  “But… Anora…”

  “Is lost,” Safira said harshly, rising. “Come. We have to go. Now. Before the orcs return.”

  The thought of the brutish monsters killed any protest in either women. But as she led the other two away from the path of the orcs, Safira felt the weight of the platinum amulet in her pocket, and bitter bile rose in her throat at the loss.

  The Drink of Surrender

  The rain drove the trio hard, lashing them while thunder rumbled above. Marianne held her arms tightly around herself. She was miserable. She was wet. She was cold. And worst of all, she was now sober.

  She trudged after the two warriors, feeling the resentment radiating from Camilla and Safira. But how was it her fault the priestess had gotten herself taken by a demon? It was the stupid slut’s own fault for being taken. How was Marianne supposed to stop it? It wasn’t like she asked for any of this. She never wanted to be out and away from her warm home. From her servants and its baths and the society she had been born and bred in. She sniffled, feeling the tears of misery well up once again.

  She could barely express her relief when a shape finally made itself known. The slouched form of an old inn along the highway rose out of the darkness. She restrained herself, barely, from rushing in as Safira pushed in first, investigating the abandoned tavern.

  “Empty,” the priestess said as she emerged. “The residents no doubt fled from the monster’s advance. We should be safe here tonight.”

  “Oh thank the gods,”
Marianne moaned, hastening inside and out of the rain. Camilla gave the noble woman a contemptuous look but she ignored it, shuffling to the large hearth and taking a seat. Camilla came forward and eventually kindled a fire, the warmth wafting through the empty common room.

  Marianne sighed, snuggling close to the open flames. “How far to Tatarod?” she asked the pair.

  “We’re close,” Safira said shortly.

  “You’ve said that every day now,” Marianne said. “And we never seem closer. And now those orcs are in the woods with us… Oh…” she sighed, shaking her head. “We’re doomed aren’t we? We may as well just give ourselves up to the monsters and pray for their mercy.”

  Camilla snorted. “You’ll get none from those brutes. You don’t understand what the Duke of Ashes wants. He doesn’t just want land or position. He wants the end of us all.”

  “Then why does he capture women?” Marianne asked. “Maybe if we surrender, we’ll be treated well. It can’t be worse than this. Can it?”

  “What do you know of misery?” Camilla snapped. “You’re just some soft noble woman. I bet you haven’t worked a day in your life, have you? Always been waited on so long as you do just what your husband said. Well this is the world now!”

  Marianne burst into tears. “I didn’t want any of this!” she gasped miserably.

  “Camilla! Marianne! Quiet,” Safria barked. She glared at the pair darkly.

  Camilla flushed and jolted to her feet. “I’m going upstairs,” she said shortly, marching past them.

  “I’m for the kitchen,” Marianne sniffled, grabbing a candle off one of the tables and lighting it from the fire. “Maybe there’s some food left behind…”

  “Don’t leave the tavern,” Safira warned sharply. “I’ve warded the building. No beast or creature of darkness can enter without my knowing. But be careful!”

  “Yes, yes,” Marianne said indifferently as she wandered behind the bar. She rubbed her eyes harshly. What did that soldier know? Odds were the stupid slut had lived like this all her life. How could she appreciate all that Marianne had lost? All that was hers that was now gone? She was used to comfort. To security. But now… now what did she have? Some rags and the prospect of being the brood mother to a band of gertlings. She shuddered at the idea.