by Wade, Vixen
4.
Veronica woke to strange surroundings.
She was on a gigantic black divan in the middle of a massive chamber. Heavy felt curtains, the color of burgundy wine, hung around the periphery. Onyx tiles swept out across the floor and strange candles and dark tapers burned, creating a subdued illumination.
Remembering the ogre attack, she quickly sat up. Her neck felt sore and her fingers went to the spot just under and behind her ear. She felt the ridges of a small brand mark. Her fingers traced the outline, unable to tell what the mark was.
“That is the mark of the Magi, so that all may know you are his concubine.”
The voice was feminine, a husky alto with an edge of impatience or irritation in it. Veronica looked around, confused. Out from behind one of the tapestries, which Veronica now guessed hid other rooms, stepped a lithe form.
Octavia stood tall for a woman in Veronica’s experience, perhaps six feet or even an inch or two taller. Her skin was a scarlet red unseen among any race of humans, her hair, both the long tresses on her head and the carefully coiffed thatch between her long, sleek legs, was a startling platinum blonde. Her ears curved upward into elegant points Veronica had only used to associate with characters from fantasy novels, or certain science fiction television shows.
The first concubine stood, naked, one hand on a hard, angular hip, the other idly swishing a black leather riding crop back and forth as they waited on the coming of their lord. Her breasts was large, sat high above a flat, abdomen. In another place, in another context, Veronica would have felt envious of her smooth, muscular sensuality, of the knowledge how much men would want to fuck her as soon as they laid eyes on her.
“What are you?” she asked. Unconsciously she scooted backward from the woman.
“I am Octavia, First Concubine. If you mean what race am I, I am Sylvan, of the night tribe. The ignorant call my people the Dark Sylvan. But who I am matters little, human female. What matters in this place is who your new lord is.
“He is Skavis, an Oni, called Ogre Magi by his people and he is worshipped as a warlord across the dimensions,” she whispered. “His power is vast, beyond your understanding and he has chosen you to be his concubine. It is a great honor,” she said, voice a hiss.
The sylph stepped in close to her, so close Veronica felt the press of the female’s conical breasts against her arm. The soft, taut flesh was warm and the red skinned woman was aroused, her nipples diamond hard and the scent of her sex a heavy perfume in the chamber.
Veronica tried to pull away, “his slave, you mean,” she said, voice defiant.
Cat-quick, Octavia snatched her by the hair and pulled her in close, their naked bodies pressed tightly against each other. The almost scarlet sheen of Octavia’s skin stood out in stark contrast to the soft golden hue of Veronica’s.
“He will come,” Octavia said, breath hot in her ear. “You will see his cock, how magnificent it is, how those of mere men pale in comparison. When you feel it in you, when you feel his seed spilling into your cunt, down your throat, you will begin to understand.” The concubine pinched her face, forcing the woman to turn and meet her eyes. Their lips were within inches of each other, breath intermingling. “I promise you,” she breathed, eyes boring into Veronica’s. “When he comes to fuck you, you will tremble and you will understand how it is he is lord of time and space, you will begin to comprehend what it is like to fuck a god.”
The mistress of the harem pushed Veronica rudely to the ground and stood over her. Octavia was angry, hurt and confused, her head spinning with all the implications of the alien woman’s words. She towered over her, dominating her with her stance, her voice, her mere presence. And she couldn’t deny the courtesan was strikingly beautiful, vibrant, terrifying. She could imagine men in a more barbaric time perhaps, killing to possess her. Starting wars to keep her in their beds.
A wild thought, incongruous with her fears and revulsion and hate burst into her mind, fully formed and virile. The Ogre Magi chose me, bitch, she thought. The lord of time and space wanted me. If I wanted I could take his affections, use his desire for this body, this mouth, this pussy, to take your power. I could be first concubine of a demi-god if I chose!
She recoiled from the thought. She was shocked at herself. Stunned even that her mind had come to that train of thought, to that conclusion. She looked up at the witch over her, standing legs spread, sex exposed, unashamed, unselfconscious, powerful, alluring, courageous. Could she do this?
If I ever want to get home, I’ll have to.
Octavia reached down and lifted Veronica up by her hair, face twisted in a sneer. “I am to prepare you for the lord.” She turned the smaller woman’s head so Veronica could look upon the whips and implements discipline. The cat-0-nine-tails, what the dominatrix referred to as the ‘nine cat,’
“Those toys are mine,” she purred. “The lord doesn’t deign to beat a lazy or stupid slave. I take care of discipline in the harem and if you fail me, if you disobey, if you embarrass me in front of his magnificence, the Ogre Magi, I will flay the skin from your skinny body.” She reached down and cruelly twisted on of Veronica’s nipples, laughing. “And that would be a shame, such a waste of such a nice little piece of ass.” The courtesan slapped her. The blow was sharp, stinging and Veronica felt her face flush hot from the impact. “Do you understand me, bitch?” she demanded.
“Yes,” Veronica said voice low.
Octavia reached down and yanked her up by her hair, laying her head against the smooth muscled curve of her thigh. She was close enough to smell the clean, pungent odor of the dominatrix’s sex. It was raw, powerful, and on some level confusing.
“I asked if you understood me!” she shouted down, eyes blazing. Veronica felt the red skinned female’s spittle spray her upturned face with the ferocity of her words. “Answer, bitch.”
“Yes, yes, I understand you,” Veronica sobbed. She felt like she was pretending some of her terror now, that, in some way, she’d managed to get in front of her fear somehow. She had a plan and it began with out-fucking this whore when the Oni came.
“It’s ‘yes, mistress,’” she smirked. Veronica remained silently and the witch snatched her head back and forth by her hair. “Say it!”
“Yes…mistress.” Veronica said, voice meek, eyes cast down.
“You will obey, little cunt, you will obey.”
For now, she thought, for now. “Yes, mistress,” she lied. “I will obey.”
“Good,” the sylph purred. “Now, let us bath and perfume you for the lord’s pleasure.”
5.
She was about to be fucked.
Fucked hard, perhaps even brutally.
The knowledge raced through Veronica, more emotion than articulated thought. The Oni, whom she’d heard the slaves refer to as, the ‘ogre magi,’ was coming at its leisure to take her. Her heart beat in her chest, hard and fast, so that she trembled, breathing in short, quick, pants like a sprinter.
Her stomach fluttered and she was suddenly elf-conscious of how she felt between her legs. Her body, as if preparing for flight or fight in some manner, was making her damp in anticipation, priming her physically for what was about to come.
“I can smell you,” Octavia said, voice taunting. “I can smell your tight little cunt,” she laughed. “You’re getting ready to feel the magic, to see what it’s like when something so powerful uses you.”
Veronica flushed at the dominatrix’s words. The truth in them made her angry, and ashamed. She was getting ready to be used. She was afraid, but she was also…curious. She had been rescued in a flurry of violence, filled with blood and screams in a frenzy of motion over so quickly she still hadn’t fully processed the experience.
Rescued only to find herself chained like chattel in the harem of a citadel on the very edge of time and space. Rescued to serve as concubine to a fantastical creature of vast, almost incomprehensible power. A creature with the knowledge of arcane secrets and occult sciences, but
apparently with more cock and all the hungers of a man.
She bowed her head, letting her blue-black hair fall over her face. Out of the corner of her eyes she looked at the dark sylph, first concubine to the Ogre Magi, and now her harem mistress, the dominatrix, Octavia.
She claimed to be a dark sylvan, which only confused, Veronica. She did know the bitch was utterly alien to her own experience with all the diversity offered by metropolitan Miami. But then nothing about living on Earth, even Florida, had prepared her for what she’d witnessed in these recent hours.
She closed her eyes against the image. She remembered the feel of the female’s hand in her hair, of the taste of her spit as she screamed orders inches from her own face, of the scent of her sex as the dominatrix became aroused by punishing her, by disciplining her. Veronica shuddered, trembling anew under the vivid memory.
“Hush,” Octavia hissed. “He comes.”
Veronica looked up, startled. It was true. She could hear the heavy, measured steps as the Oni approached. Her mind flashed on the image of him attacking the Orc group that held her captive, his great iron club swinging. He’d left the beast men broken and mutilated, blood smeared on his weapon, streaked across his flesh. He’d killed them easily.
The images flashed through her mind, and all of them were frightening, but there was one image, try as she might to force it away, that her frenzied mind kept snapping back to time and again. An image she could see in vivid, startling quality, clear as an HD image; the Ogre Magi’s cock.
The Oni had fought naked, bursting in from a trans-dimensional ambush, roaring, weapon smashing skulls. But his penis and balls hung bare, swinging freely as he leapt and struck, twisted and attacked. Heavy, hanging low and slapping against his bullish thighs, just above his knees. Impossibly thick, it had ran with thick veins swollen like rivers. It was the first uncircumcised penis she’d seen and it had seemed, feral, wild.
She tried to imagine that huge member erect, skin pulled back to reveal the head, that phallus pointed at her, ready to be serviced by her small hands, her mouth, her vagina, or who could say what else. He was Lord Skavis, the Ogre Magi, and he would not be refused anything he desired, she understood.
Cold jets of adrenaline squirted into her stomach and she looked around, trying to distract herself.
The chamber she was in was dimly lit, and furiously warm from the burning coals of several braziers. Heavy tapestries hung off the walls, leaving only the onyx tiles of the floor revealed. A massive divan, big enough to support the weight of an orgy of normal sized humans, sat in the middle of the room.
The dominatrix positioned her on her knees before it, waiting at the pleasure of a galactic lord. Home had never seemed farther away than it did at this moment.
The chamber door opened wide on silent hinges. From the outer chamber, Skavis entered. Both females inhaled at his appearance, more adrenaline flooding their naked bodies at the mere sight of the monster.
And he was a monster. In every sense of the word.
Eight feet tall, well over six hundred pounds, the grotesquely muscled frame looked capable of going hand-to-hand with a tiger, or a bull ox. It made the bodies of the professional bodybuilders and strongmen Veronica watched on cable seem insignificant in comparison. Heavy, arms that were more closely aligned to that of a silverback gorilla than a human warrior, swung loose as he stalked in. His abdominal wall was etched with ridges of square muscle below massive shelves of pectorals.
Each line and bulge stood in stark, vivid relief because of the accentuating effect of the Oni’s cobalt and indigo skin. It stood on big, splayed feet, nails like talons, jet black and obsidian hard. Its hair was wild, a tangle man of blue-black strands that spilled down its back past the gargantuan knots of the trapezius muscles that hooded a frighteningly thick neck.
A wide jaw, black with the shadow of beard stubble, ran up in smooth planes to rugged peaks of cheek bones that framed a great, Roman nose and terrifying, all crimson eyes. These, aspects, though outsized, she realized, were almost human. It was above and below those features that the true mythological, alieness of the Oni displayed itself fully.
The thick-lipped, generous slash of mouth bristled with upward curving incisors large enough, sharp enough to be called tusks. The other teeth crowded in the leonine mouth were glistening white fangs. Teeth that served as much to rip throats open, weapon-like, as to masticate food.
Black bone horns, not unlike like those of an Ibis, curved up from the thick ridge of forehead into lethal points. The muscles of her gut and low back tightened painfully, almost to the point of painfulness and she felt a light sheen of perspiration cover her naked form. She looked away from them.
And found her eyes resting on the engorged penis of a interdimensional warlord.
It was everything she feared, and everything that fascinated her. It was, like the Ogre Magi himself, massive, of course. But, very nearly hypnotized, she realized that, while it was bigger than she’d ever peeked at watching internet porn, it would still fit inside her. Unconsciously, her hands went to the junction of her legs in a protective motion.
Engorged with blood, the skin of the erection was such a dark shade of blue it looked nearly black. The head was an even deeper purple than that of any normal cock she’d experienced in her previous life. That included the one on the black stripper her sister used as entertainment during her bachelorette party.
Lord Skavis stood, breathing with the heavy, wet sound of a hard run stallion. Veronica realized with a start that the Oni wasn’t just erect, he was aroused. A being capable of slaying half a dozen Orc slavers singlehanded, of traversing the occult pathways of time and space, of mastering half-a-hundred races into subjugated species was aroused…by her.
She felt an expected thrill of power, in surprise at the formidableness of her own sensuality. Yes, this great beast-king could kill her with a single swipe of its clawed hand, but that wasn’t what it wanted. On her knees, collar snug around her throat, Veronica felt more empowered than she ever had in her life.
She sat up straighter, breathing in, causing the heavy globes of her breasts to rise. She parted her knees slightly, offering herself up, hands resting on her inner thighs. Her heart hammered in her chest ,and intertwined with her new found feelings of self-actualization, was the more familiar terror and overwhelming urge to flee that had filled her since she was first taken.
But she saw the big cock jerk, its head jump as the demonic red eyes followed the movement of her hands toward the crease of her sex. She blinked, seeing his wide nostrils flare as he inhaled her perfumed stink from across the room. He was like a wolf catching the scent of a bitch in heat. Again, she was struck by the realization, he wanted her, badly.
She gasped and felt herself flush, the warmth seeping down her neck and across her breasts. She felt her nipples tighten until they stood out in stiffened fingers.
Octavia stepped forward, the brazier light playing across her scarlet and mauve tones, as sinister and sensual as a medieval monk’s depiction of a Dante inspired hell spawn succubus. Instantly, Veronica felt a surge of jealous anger. Her eyes narrowed in resentment as the dark sylvan female placed a possessive hand on her shoulder.
“Behold,” her voice rang. “Skavis. Warlord of Time and Space. Master of the cosmic warp and the Bir el-Arweh, the Well of Souls. It is your honor to serve his pleasure,” her nails dug into Veronica’s shoulder and her voice changed, becoming more strident. “Serve him,” she repeated. “On. Your. Knees.” The dominatrix shoved her down. “Bow before your better, whore,” she spat.
Obediently, Veronica pressed her head against the glass-smooth surface of the onyx tiles. Ochre-yellow light spilling from the low braziers and wall-mounted scones undulated across the floor. In the reflection of the flickering light, she saw the Ogre Magi pad forward, utterly silent. Mind racing wildly, she thought somewhat incongruously, that this is how the sabretooth tigers of old must have moved; monstrously powerful, entirely silent.
As a child, she’d taken riding lessons, spending entire summer days at a private stable. This close, Skavis’s smell reminded her of her horse. His skin looked as plush and velvet soft over the same kind of liquid-steel muscles, and his heavy, animal musk reminded her of the stallion after a hard run; clean, strong, intoxicating.
She understood the irony of her image. She eyed the hard cock hanging inches from her face. If anyone was to be ridden, it would be her. And as infatuated as she had been by the steed, she’d never thought of letting it mount her. A pearl of pre-cum glistened at the Oni’s peephole.
“Look,” she whispered, pressing her face next to the human girl’s so that their cheeks were welded together. “Look,” she repeated, her voice so reverential it was almost worshipful.
“Behold the balls of a god,” Octavia breathed, her voice thick with lust.
The dominatrix’s voice was eerily reverential, like a parishioner discussing a hallowed relic. There was a hypnotic quality to it Veronica associated with cult members. The woman was more than infatuated, more than reverent, more even than lustful. She worshipped the balls of the Ogre Magi.
Despite her disbelief Veronica could not lie to herself, not this close to the celestial magnificence of the warlord. The Oni’s balls were the size of a brahma bull’s, smooth and full, perfect globes stretching the indigo skin.
“The fate of universes swim in them,” Octavia told her, voice hushed, and Veronica knew it was true.
The dark sylph pushed her face forward as she spoke and the human did not resist, found she did want to, instead, leaned in willingly, turning her face upward. Her lips rested against the testicles and she felt their warmth as she kissed them. She felt a stirring in her cunt, knew she was getting wetter.