“Yesss!” she wailed. “More master! More!”
The gertling couldn’t stop. None of them could. Frantically, feverishly, almost desperately they mated with the moaning women. Plunging their warty cocks into sopping pussies. Their balls smacking off shapely pale bottoms. Their hands sinking in soft, supple flesh.
The Red Witch watched, her dark eyes burning in the light of the spell as the gertlings fucked their women, lost, consumed in the pleasure. They came. Again. Again. Reedy wails of ecstasy as they stuffed the moaning women with their seed. As they kept fucking. Kept humping. Even as their flesh sank against their bones. Even as their eyes grew hollow and sank into sockets. As their essence escaped them in gasping orgasms, filtered, fed in the red ribbons of power into the center of the circle.
“Oh fuck yeah. That’s the stuff,” Lugin breathed as he watched the gertlings rut their lives away. The Red Witch’s chant rose, her pale breasts heaving, her arms raised, her voice calling out over the weakening moans of the gertlings. The cries of their mates as they clung to their withering lovers.
A final scream broke through the room. The ribbons of power ended, the gertlings gasping their last, falling, little more than mummies, withered cocks pumping their last, futile bursts of cum into their mates. The power in the room snapped into the center. A shockwave burst through the air.
Silence.
The Red Witch’s feet padded softly across the charred remains of the ritual circle. She walked by the whimpering women, their bodies steaming with the force of their pleasure. The sorceress stopped before the middle of the circle and took what hung in thin air.
“Oh yes,” she breathed, smirking as she admired the tool birthed from dark magic and the pleasure of woman and monster. “That’s perfect.”
The Forest
Jingling steel and the clip clop of hooves were all to be heard as Torria led her squad through the forest’s confines. She peered about the thick pines, wary. The forests of Istanov had long sheltered the monsters of the empire, even before the Duke of Ashes had called them forth in his foul crusade. And knowing the enemy was so near, she was wary and on her guard.
To make matters worse was the nature of Sallowmarsh. Built in the deeps of the swamps of Istanov, the city was well defended from outside attack, but isolated. Even in its heyday there were not many who braved the misty waterways and fetid marshes. And those who did reside there were whispered to be degenerate half breeds. Bearing more monster blood in their veins than any would consider proper. That the communities lurking in the deep marshes had agreements with the wugs and stranger things whose eyes glowed through the mists, and whose claws thirsted for the unwary traveler and lone wanderers who dared the roads.
Her men spread out behind her in a ragged line on either side, slowly moving through the forest, keeping within eye sight of one another. They moved with care. This wasn’t their first mission, after all. Though Torria’s main strength had always been her military thrust, she was more than capable of leading such a scouting group. And that her empress trusted it to her meant she was glad to carry it out.
She tugged on the reins, forestalling her horse. She raised her hand, causing the rest of her troops to halt.
Torria scanned the forest, her eyes narrowing. What made her stop? Even she wasn’t sure. A silent sense of unease. An instinct from that primal part of the human brain that remembered the days when the warning of a predator’s strike couldn’t take the time to be analyzed, but merely acted on.
Silence greeted her.
“Commander?” Ander asked. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Torria said softly.
Ander nodded. He craned his head about, grasping the hilt of his sword and slowly drawing his blade.
The ground suddenly exploded beneath her. Torria’s horse whinnied, rearing back. She had a brief impression of fangs and claws and glowing eyed before her sword came down, cleaving the creature’s head in twain.
Other men were not so lucky. Screams of surprise and pain from men and horses split the air. Torria yanked her horse about, looking about frantically.
Ghouls. Shaggy things of teeth and claw, they surged out of the ground in masses of horror. Clawing at riders and slaughtering horses. Steel flashed as her men fought frantically back against the monsters risen all around them.
“Close ranks!” Torria shouted, kneeing her horse towards the others, her sword flashing as she cut down another of the shaggy monsters. “Close ranks!”
Horns wailed through the woods. Torria twisted about to see bulky shapes racing out from among the trees as if birthed from the mists. Her heart clenched as she made out the brutal frames of orcish warriors, the earth thundering under their stride as they rapidly closed with the scouts surrounded by the ghouls.
“A trap!” Torria shouted over the sound of battle. “Retreat! Retreat!”
She yanked the reins of her horse, kneeing her steed into motion. Her men tried to disentangle themselves from their battle, but she didn’t see if any made it. She broke free of the battle, her horse leaping over a ghoul as the monster clawed its way out of the earth, hooves thudding on the forest floor as Torria surged off and away from the battlefield.
She rode hard, the land rushing beneath her. She rose in her saddle and looked back the way she came, trying to spot a sign of pursuit.
A branch slammed into her midriff. Only her armour saved her from a broken rib, but it served to drive the wind from her in a rush. Her feet were wrenched from their stirrups as she was thrown from the saddle, hitting the ground with bone numbing force.
Torria lay there, gasping, watching dimly as her horse continued its terrified dash deeper into the forest. Her head was spinning as she struggled to get her breath back.
Remembering why she had been running, Torria struggled back to her feet, staggering as her head swam from the sudden movement. She touched her chest, wincing at the pain throbbing through her. A crash of distant foliage had her shoot back a look, spotting dark figures moving through the forest. Without a second thought she started running.
Branches whipped past her, snapping against her face and arms as she raced deeper into the forest. Every step sent pain blasting through her bruised ribs, but she dared not stop. She had no fear of death. But a woman’s fate at the hands of monsters was far worse than that. No one in the empire didn’t know of what the monsters had done with the women they’d taken. Cursed by foul magic, as soon as a monster seeded their womb, any woman would become little more than an eager brood mother. Slavishly devoted to their foul masters and the spawn which grew in their bodies.
Torria did not fear death. But that horrified her.
Grass suddenly made way for a lush carpet of wildflowers. The trees, once twisted with branches like claws were swept away, leaving her in a sudden space of quiet openness. Torria staggered to a halt, looking about herself in shock.
She stood in a clearing, motes of light drifting through the air. The flowers carpeted the grounds around her in a rich rainbow of hues. Their mingled perfume reached her, every panting breath drawing in a gasp of their sweet scent. Torria blinked hard, the olfactory assault making her head spin.
“Oh, hello.”
Torria spun about in surprise and took a startled step back. A massive flower with crimson petals as big as a horse grew amid the more modest flowers. A dip in the plant revealed a sloshing pitcher of viscous nectar. Out of this, growing from the waist up was a picture of feminine beauty. Generous hips swelled out of the plant, curving into a perfect hourglass shape to compliment a pair of luscious green breasts. A face of breathtaking beauty topped it all, with lips a deep, dark brown and eyes a glimmering green. In lieu of hair, another immense flower bloomed from her head, slanted to obscure on eye with its long petals.
Torria reached for her sword. “Monster!” Her hand closed on empty air and she cursed, realizing she’d dropped it on the run.
“Please, don’t be alarmed,” the plant woman cried. “I’m not like t
hose brutes chasing you! In fact, I saved you.”
“What?” Torria said.
“Of course. No one may enter my garden without my permission,” the plant woman said. “I am its protector, and when I saw you racing through the forest, I knew you needed me.”
Torria hesitated. But it was true, she didn’t hear her pursuers anymore. And knowing the stamina of orcs, they would have caught her by now. When motivated, an orc could run almost as fast as a horse. There was no way she might have evaded them on foot so long. “I… um, thank you.”
The plant woman smiled. And it was a rather lovely smile, Torria noticed. She felt her cheeks blossom with a blush, her body growing warm. “You’re welcome,” the figure said. “But please, come closer.”
She… supposed there was no harm in that. Torria walked nearer the plant woman, that pungent, sweet aroma she’d noticed earlier growing stronger. A very lovely scent. Better than the finest perfumes in all of the empire.
“You are a lovely one,” the plant woman crooned, swaying a little in her flower. The nectar around her sloshing softly around her waist. “So lovely and fair. Little wonder the orcs were so eager to take you. Such beauty would drive the brutes mad.”
The woman looked like a nymph, Torria thought. A creature of sensuous beauty fabled to inhabit springs. Protectors of women and providers of protection to virgins. Of course, Torria was no virgin, but she still felt her blush deepen at the plant woman’s words. “I… thank you.”
“Lycea,” the plant woman crooned. “Call me Lycea.”
“Lycea,” Torria said, the name tingling on her tongue. “My name is Torria.”
“Torria,” Lycea repeated, the way the creature pronounced it with her dark tongue sending a pulse of raw desire into Torria’s core. “Torria. Such a lovely name. Suitable for a lovely woman.”
“I… m-my name isn’t so… No one has thought it lovely…”
“Because they are fools. Torria,” Lycea murmured, her great breasts swaying, heaving as she spoke that name, her head tilting back and eyes growing lidded as if she found pleasure in the simple act of speaking it. “Torria, Torria, Torria.”
Her name spoken like a chant made Torria blush even hotter. What was going on with her? Her head was spinning. Her body was boiling hot.
“You seem flushed kind, gentle, lovely Torria,” Lycea crooned.
“I um… am a little,” Torria murmured, her thoughts light, her body feeling like it was wrapped in clouds.
“Of course. So much armour and cloth. Little wonder. Here. Let me help you.”
Gentle hands eased forward, teasingly touching buckle, belt and thread. Torria wondered when she had gotten so close. But even as she did those thoughts slipped away, her mind sloshing like the nectar around Lycea’s waist. Torria sighed softly as her clothes fell away, revealing her toned frame to the open air, the kiss of the wind cool and refreshing.
“So much better. Oh Torria. Why hide such loveliness behind armour and cloth?”
“It’s… proper…”
“Oh, you humans,” Lycea murmured, drawing Torria nearer. “You beasts of thought and flesh. Goddess but you are sweaty my sweet. Here.”
Lycea leaned in and licked Torria’s neck. The amazon gasped, arching as that gentle tongue sent a bolt like lightning into her trembling core. Her thighs tightened, her quim moistening with the terrible sensitivity awoken in her. “Wh-what are…”
“Is this not proper?” Lycea murmured, licking her again, tongue travelling along Torria’s throat, down her chest and to her tender breast. “Is this not how beasts clean one another?”
Torria panted. The immense flower blossoming from Lycea’s head was directly beneath her face. Thick pollen wafted into the air, surrounding Torria in a haze of crimson motes. Her head swam. Pounded with pure, primal lust. “I… humans d-don’t… we don’t…”
“Oh, of course not. You must forgive me. You’re probably so eager to be off.”
“N-no!” Torria gasped out.
A pause filled the air. Then a gentle laugh. “Is that so? How lovely. Then, why not take a moment. Just relax while I clean you off. Hm?”
Torria was confused. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She didn’t know how to refuse. How to do anything but follow the gentle tug of Lycea’s hands, drawing her onto the petals, into the pool of nectar that surrounded Lycea.
Torria moaned softly as she sank into the thick nectar. That sticky solution clinging to her long legs as she sank into it. Deeper. Deeper. Her whole lower body glowed with warmth. She fell against the soft edge of the petals.
Lycea moved over her, kissing her, licking her. Touching her. Torria whimpered, helpless beneath the soft caresses and tickling touch of those clever, clever fingers.
“Good girl,” Lycea murmured. “You’re doing so well for me, Torria. So well.”
“Mmm,” Torria moaned softly.
“Just relax,” Lycea crooned. “Just relax, my lovely warrior. My lovely girl. Just relax and let me ease all the pains of this world from you. Just relax. Just… relax…”
Torria whimpered as she felt something tease along her legs. Stroke her inner thighs. Slim feelers growing from the base of the flower slipping along her until they found her naked pussy.
Something… something about all this was wrong. Torria looked up into the eye of Lycea. “What…”
“Shhh,” Lycea crooned, leaning in yet closer. “Just… relax…”
And those lips fell on Torria’s, and all her worries just melted away.
Torria moaned, arching beneath the plant creature, her lips and mouth buzzing with the force of that kiss. She gasped, whimpered, arched as the feelers slid into her pussy and into her ass, her body clamping down in shivering delight on those twining intruders.
“That’s it. Good girl. Good human,” Lycea purred.
“Nnn. Ah. Nnn!” Torria gasped, all her strength useless. Stolen. Taken away by the force of the pleasure that thumped through her. She slipped deeper into the nectar of the pool. The tingling heat warming her further.
“That’s it. Just give in. Pretty girl. I hunger so,” Lycea purred, stroking Torria’s cheeks, her body, her breasts. “Yessss. You’ll be so good. So fine. So useful. That’s it. Give in, my lovely. My sweet little fool. Surrender to my hunger. Surrender to me.”
Torria couldn’t answer. Her mouth was open, drooling, panting in mindless bliss as she was fucked by the vines. Stroked by her captor. As she slipped deeper and deeper into the pool. As she was devoured by the acidic nectar. She didn’t feel her flesh begin to slough away. Her beauty lost. She only knew pleasure. Pleasure unending. Pleasure eternal.
The petals closed around them, masking them in darkness. And in it, a green eye twinkled with mirth.
Reborn
The tall grass caressed the Red Witch’s long legs as she strode through the forest. Her smirk was of amusement, her red hair writhing with her latent power as she pushed aside the flimsy barrier that guarded the meadow of Lycea.
“Oh, how does this work. Damn it. Does it… oh fuck it all.”
The witch’s smile widened at the voice and stepped into the field of flowers. The bulb of Lycea’s flower rose in the distance like a protective womb of red and green, the twinkling stars of magic enriched pollen dancing through the air. The hypnotic power of the pheromones did nothing to the sorceress as she walked towards the flower, and the figure kneeling at its foot.
Naked, a body firmed and strong from battle and wars, yet curved with the familiar beauty of femininity, Torria cursed again as she turned a pair of pants about in her hands.
The Red Witch slipped up behind the preoccupied amazon, drew back her hand, and delivered a stinging spank to the woman.
“Nyaaaa!” Torria squealed, bolting to her feet in surprise.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Torria spun about, and her green eyes brightened at the sight of the crimson haired sorceress. “Mistress!” Torria cried, flinging herself in the Red Witch
’s arms, nuzzling the sorceress’s full, firm breasts. “You’re back!”
“Hello, Lycea,” the Red Witch chuckled as she stroked the creature’s head, down her back and to the long stem that connected the puppet to the flower. “Enjoying the new form?”
“Very much mistress!” Lycea giggled, looking up into the witch’s eyes with puppyish glee. “Oh, she was soooo easy! You should have seen her, mistress. She just came to me like a silly little bee. Never guessing what I was going to do to her. She never even figured it out before I ate her all up!”
“Oh, I don’t have to imagine it,” the witch grinned, slipping her finger down Lycea’s front, stroking the amazon’s pussy. “I can see it right here.”
Lycea’s mouth opened in a quivering moan. She pressed herself against the sorceress, eyes glassy with pleasure and delight. “Mnnnn! Oh m-mistress!”
“Like that?” the Red Witch crooned, kissing the puppet’s ear, supporting Lycea as the plant woman’s avatar clung to her. “Flesh isn’t all bad, my pretty little plant girl. You can experience so many things with it, can’t you?”
“Oh m-mistress,” Lycea whimpered in delight, her hips weakly humping the witch’s hand as she fingered the plant’s puppet. “Oh g-goddess!”
The witch laughed with delight, the fires of madness flaring in her eyes as she again kissed the helpless thrall, enjoying the floral taste of the puppet’s mouth. A thing of plant in the guise of flesh, the witch delighted in the sense of touch and pleasure she could elicit from the creature. It had been some time since she’d enslaved the plant woman. A willing slave, of course. Many such creatures had too close a tie to the natural world to follow the Duke of Ashes, so it had fallen to her to claim this one.
And it had, in the end, been quite easy. Such creatures yearned to feed and sprout, and thanks to the witch, Lycea had never lacked in either. And when the sorceress had begun to toy with the plant’s body, Lycea had more than eagerly thrown herself into the service of the crimson haired witch.
Courage of the Empress Page 3