Overlord or Breeding Slave: Book 1: Sold in the City of Greed

by Jay Aury

Boriga croaks in amusement, his hand again capturing one of your breasts, giving that full orb a hungry squeeze. “Hmmm. Or, my dear, we may continue. Let me claim your womb. No gold would equal having such a delightful bride. Give up your quest. Stay with me. I will shower you with jewels. A life in my palaces, never needing to fear being enslaved by some lesser demon. Leisure, pleasure, all to be yours. You will want for nothing. Especially,” he adds with a throaty chuckle, rubbing his cock against you anew, making you whimper. “This…”

  Your lips tremble with your reply. Your head is fogged, spinning with lust. Would such a life be so bad? Would being this monster’s bride be so terrible? Gone the menaces of your quest. The curse of your father. Life in the palace as this monster’s bride. Would it be so wrong to long for such peace? To desire the cock rubbing against you to breed you again and again for the rest of your days?

  Take Boriga’s Offer

  Refuse Boriga’s Offer

  Deal with Boriga

  You’ve dealt with monsters like Boriga before. Or, at least, have encountered them. Usually you were on your father’s throne, with all the authority of the Overlord and the Citadel behind you, which meant you held all the cards. Well, the shoe is on the other foot now, but you’ll deal with him.

  “Boriga,” you say, easing back in the waters, your breasts just cresting them. “Are you satisfied?”

  “Hm?” Boriga says.

  “Are you satisfied being a mere minor merchant prince in Mammon? With your place here? Do you really think more money, a dukedom, can compare to what it would mean to have a good word in with Avarick himself? To be in the good graces of the Overlord?”

  The frogman’s neck swells with a thoughtful croak. “Hmm. It might be of value…”

  “Surely more than a single payment,” you observe. “A single lump that, despite its size, could never compare to the patronage of Avarick’s own vaults. And how much of what you collect would you keep? How much would Avarick take as tribute? The Dragon of Greed is greedy.”

  “It is what he’s known for,” Boriga says.

  You smile, seeing past his façade to the turning wheels of his thoughts. You’ve got him. Just a bit more. “It might not be a guarantee,” you say. “Maybe I fail. But imagine if I succeed. Imagine if you have the Overlord herself in your debt. Imagine the riches that would flow into your coffers. Imagine the wealth you would find. The power, the fortune my father commanded as mine. And you could benefit greatly from that.

  “True,” you continue with a lazy shrug, your breasts cresting the surface with a ripple. “It is a gamble. But if I fail, have you lost anything you didn’t have before?” You smirk. “All business is, in the end, gambling of some kind. Isn’t that sort of a reward worth a roll of the dice?”

  Boriga sits in the steaming waters silently, his eyes closed as if envisioning the clicking scales of pros and cons. A chuckle builds in his throat, and soon the frogman is bursting with croaking laughter, his mouth wide with mirth.

  “Hahaha! You have missed your calling, Princess of Pride! You should have been a merchant. Very well!” he says with a grin. “I will aid you.”

  You feel the tension bleed out of you as you sink into the tub. “Great,” you breathe. “Glad to hear it. How will I enter the palace?”

  “Hmm. Though the Vault is sealed, trade goes through still. Avarick would never deny himself tribute from Mammon and its merchants. That alone enters. Every merchant who operates within the city sends a cut of their profits to him, and it takes many forms. Relics. Gold. Jewels. And,” he adds, smirking, “slaves of great loveliness.”

  You have a feeling you know where he’s going with this. “You’ll be sending me disguised as a slave?”

  “Indeed!” Boriga says, chortling anew. “Hmm. But that is as far as I can aid you. Once within those halls, you must find your way to Avarick’s personal chambers, and make your case before him. You’ll have to slip away from the guards and evade the Vault’s many defences.”

  Great. You sigh, but nod. “I see,” you say. “Then, we’d best get started.”

  The Vault

  Take Boriga’s Offer

  You’re so desperate to feel him within you. So needy. So hot and horny. You can’t think straight. Or, perhaps, you finally are. Perhaps you finally realize what your body so desperately needs.

  You kiss the monster hotly, pressing your ample tits against the bulk of his body, moaning as your ass grinds your dripping pussy against his wedged cock. “Yes,” you gasp in the panting moments between your kiss. “Yes. Oh fuck, Boriga. Please. I need you. Need your cock. Need your cum. Need you to breed my pussy. Breed me. Make me yours. Oh fuck… Boriga. Please…”

  The monster croaks with amusement, his webbed hands cradling your plump bottom. “Of course, my dear. I will be glad to give you all you need.”

  So he says. You tremble, feeling the slickness of his cock press against your fluttering pussy as he shifts you atop him. “Ooooooh!” you moan as he eases you down onto his wedged cock, feeling that slimy length spread your pussy. Pleasure like nothing you’ve known burns through you from head to toe. You shudder as you feel him fill you. More. More. By the time you hilt, the water of the pools rippling about the globes of your bum in delicate rings, you can already feel the rightness of that decision.

  Which is only reinforced as you begin to ride him.

  “Ah. Ah! Ahn!” you gasp, your pussy sliding up and down the monster’s cock, every panting cry accented by your breasts as your nipples slide against his smooth, amphibian flesh. “Oh. Oh h-hells! Yes! Oh fuck yes! Boriga… Oh gods, Boriga. It’s so… mnnn! So good!”

  The frog monster laughs as you ride atop him, your body arching against his amphibian bulk, his hands squeezing your rump as he helps you ride him faster. Faster! “Hmmmm. All for you, my princess. All for you, my slave. Oh yesss. Yesss! Take it, my dear. Take my cock!”

  “Yes! Oh gods. More. Please! More! N-need more. Need your cum. Need your cum in me! Oh gods yes. Yes! Breed me! Please! Make me yours! Mark me! Enslave me! Breed my royal pussy! Give me your cum! Oh fuck, master. Please! Please!”

  Your pleas do not fall on deaf ears. Boriga croaks with amusement, but there’s a throatiness to it now. A growing lust you can feel in the way his webbed fingers tighten on your shapely ass, squeezing you, spurring you to ride him faster. Faster!

  “Hr. Hr! Hmmmm!” the frogman moans as his cock twitches within you, bulges, and unloads all of his slimy cum within you.

  The feeling of your breeding is like nothing else. Your mind goes white. Your scream of pleasure deafening as his cum pumps into your eager womb, stuffing you to the brim with his foul seed.

  “Yesssss!” you scream, ecstasy burning through you in a sudden swell of pleasure. “Oh fuck! Yessss!”

  Light flashes on your mons as the brand burns itself against your skin, marking you forevermore as this monster’s. As you feel his seed take hold, breeding you, you can only cry out in sweetest pleasure, knowing this was meant to be. You were always supposed to be this monster’s thrall. His slave bride. His eager slut.

  And why should you not? Already you feel that swell of adoration for this monstrous creature. More than lust, it is almost divine. Your face brightens in a delighted smile as you rest against his front, pressing your tits to his fat folds, kissing him with all the passion such a powerful male deserves.

  Boriga chortles, kissing you back, still kneading your ass as it twitches with aftershocks of your orgasm, his cock never shrinking, still filling you delightfully. “Hmmm. Such a prize I have found,” the monster says.

  You snort. You thought you might have lost your mind with the curse, but you feel it sharper than ever. All of it aimed to pleasing your new husband. “Please, Boriga. As mighty as your cock is, as convincing as you are, it’s I who gave myself to you!”

  He laughs fully, taking a hand from your ass and cupping your breast. “Hmm. Very well, my dear. I will not argue semantics with such a beauty.” You gasp, lashes
fluttering in delight as his webbed hand fondles your ample titflesh. “Hmmm. Mammals have such wonderful assets. I cannot wait to taste them when they have become heavy with milk.”

  You smile adoringly down at him, a hand touching your stomach and the brand upon it. “Not to worry, my love,” you breathe. “I can feel it working. Soon enough, I will grow fat with your young, and you’ll have ample cream to enjoy.”

  “A taste then, for things to come,” Boriga croaks, his mouth opening wide and engulfing your plump teat.

  You cry out, arching against him. “Mmmm!” you moan, your hips softly rocking as you move atop his cock, your breathing coming in short, hot pants. The idea of becoming Overlord holds no appeal to you anymore. Only this matters. Only this sensation of his cock rubbing within your fertile pussy as he sucks on your breast.

  And a long life ahead for you and Boriga.

  Slave Bride of the Frogman

  Sold by the Frogman

  You stagger onto the auction block without any real awareness of it, nor the glaring lights casting their glow upon you. You’re beautiful, for that is how Boriga wants you to be. You’re meek, because that’s what he knows will sell.

  You’re a slave, because that is what he decided you will be.

  So many decisions have been made by the monster since your capture at his hands. So many humiliations piled upon you to break your spirit and turn you into what you are now. Boriga seemed to take more enjoyment by shattering your pride than he ever would breeding you. He’s spanked you. Whipped you. Used your mouth, your ass, but never your pussy. That alone he would not touch. But there was so much else to work with.

  And not only him. Imps were used to degrade you, forcing you to suck them off until you couldn’t help but enjoy it. Sweet aphrodisiacs spiced your food so no matter what your pussy drips and your skin is flushed with desire. Rings pierce your nipples like you’re chattel, all of which can clearly be seen through your thin garments.

  You sense Boriga waddle up behind you. Your ass tightens and you straighten as his webbed hand lands on your shoulder, your skin so sensitive his mere touch is like an electric shock, making you whimper with delight. You look out over the crowd gathered. Monsters and demons and worse all collected to observe this moment. One among them will be your master.

  One among them will at last enjoy your untainted pussy.

  “Let us begin the bidding!” Boriga croaks. “Observe, the Princess of Pride! Daughter of the Overlord! Whoever breeds her will inherit the mantle of the Overlord! A willing slave of no small magical power. Observe her ample breasts!” Boriga says, casually hefting your plump teats so the crowd can better see.

  “Such an ass! Abundant canvas for your personal brand,” he says, giving your rump a spank, making you arch, gasp, whimper.

  “And such a sensitive pussy,” the bloated frogman croaks, a finger gliding down the rune of your front and stroking your tender slit.

  There’s no chance of holding back. Shuddering, your skin burning with hypersensitive arousal, you cum on the spot, shamefully moaning as your pussy twitches and pulses with your juices, drooling them onto the stage, glittering in the spotlights.

  The bidding begins in earnest. Roars of voices thunder upon you like waves of demands. Leering faces look at you, wanting you. The sum climbs higher. Higher.

  “Sold!” Boriga bellows, starting you from your haze.

  A great howl erupts from the winner. A huge, bestial demon, his head that of goat with a mask of bone, his robes draping him, his horns curling above his shaggy head. You vaguely recognize him as one of the upper Dukes from the realm of envy, but this barely registers. Only the tug of your collar spurs you to move, following Boriga’s waddling form off the stage, where he hands you off to your new master, who makes you crawl in his wake to a carriage carried along by spidery limbs.

  He claims you in the rocking carriage as you ride to his new palace, and the life that awaits you. As he bleats, his bestial cock pumping you full of his cum, you feel the brand burn as you are marked as his. You never even notice the difference.

  You are slave.

  That’s all you will ever be.

  Bad End

  Index Start Over

  Refuse Boriga’s Offer

  It’s almost embarrassing how much you desire to taste the frogman’s cock. To let him breed you and make you his. But no. No, you are still the Princess of Pride, and you will not surrender so early in your quest.

  “B-Boriga,” you pant, looking down at the monster’s bloated, amphibian face. “Your offer is… is generous…”

  “Hmm. I sense a but in there. And not this one,” he says, giving your rump a squeeze.

  Your face burns, another jolt of submissive delight sparking from your brand, but you shake your head. “N-no, Boriga. I must enter the Vault. I must deal with Avarick.”

  Boriga sighs. “Hmm. A pity. I would have made your life a marvellous thing, my dear. But so be it.”

  It’s weird how disappointed you feel as his webbed hands release you. You fairly collapse onto the seat beside him, breasts heaving, face flushed with arousal and the tingling sensation of his touch. You swallow hard, reorienting yourself as you sit up straighter, looking at his frog-like face firmly, as if you were equals. “Now,” you say. “Tell me this plan to get me inside the Vault.”

  “Hmm,” Boriga hums, resting his hands on the swell of this stomach and contemplatively tapping the taut skin like a drum. “Though the Vault is sealed, trade goes through still. Avarick would never deny himself tribute from Mammon and its merchants. That alone enters. Every merchant who operates within the city sends a cut of their profits to him, and it takes many forms. Relics. Gold. Jewels. And,” he adds, smirking, “slaves of great loveliness.”

  You have a feeling you know where he’s going with this. “You’ll be sending me disguised as a slave?”

  “Indeed!” Boriga says, chortling. “Hmm. But that is as far as I can aid you. Once within those halls, you must find your way to Avarick’s personal chambers, and make your case before him. You’ll have to slip away from the guards and find your way through his palace. And its many defences.”

  Great. You sigh, but nod. “I see,” you say. “Then, we’d best get started.”

  The Vault

  Imp Slave

  You kneel before the throne that was once yours, your master’s cock between your lips.

  With every bob of your head the rings that pierce your nipples jangle, the chain that binds them curling up into the hand of your master, Givril. The imp has grown since he claimed your womb for his own, becoming taller and more muscled, his horns curling a little, though all this is still minor. All imps grow in power if they have a steady source of magic to drink from, and you are certainly that. It gives you great pride to be of such service to your master, and your eyes are filled with adoration as you look up at his mighty frame, while your mouth worships at his manhood.

  Of course, he’s not the only one who’s changed. Your ass has filled out along with your hips from the numerous births of the imp’s spawn. Imps gestate quickly, and you’ve already borne almost a dozen broods for Givril. Your children fill the Citadel like bats in a roost, pouring from its towers on their father’s bidding to capture more slaves or treasures. If some die, what does it matter to Givril? There will always be more. Even now, your stomach swells with imp pups, your whimpers and moans tight as you feel them moving within you. Soon you will give birth again.

  Soon, master will breed you anew.

  “Hr. Hr. Hrnnnn!” Givril moans as his hips buck, unloading his cum into your mouth. Moaning, you suck down his seed, lashes fluttering as his bitter, oily cum pumps down your throat. He tugs on the chain and you lean forward, the rings in your nipples pulling your gravid breasts up towards your master, the pain all the sweeter for the pleasure.

  Givril sighs, pulling his cock out of your mouth. “Mmm. I do love those lips,” the imp titters.

  You beam. “Th-thank you, master,”
you gasp, blushing hard. Praise! How unexpected, but how wonderful! You can feel a wave of warm delight spreading through you from head to toes.

  Givril cackles. “But I love these puppies even more!” the imp says, giving your chain a yank.

  You cry out, pulled upright, but not to your feet. You’re forced against the side of the throne, your immense breasts wobbling onto the imp’s lap, milk dribbling onto his legs from the impact. Givril grins, releasing the chain to cup your breast with his own hands, the feel of those claw-tipped fingers pressing into your plump titflesh making you whimper in delight, your nipples aching with anticipation for what’s to come.

  “Oh yeah,” your master cackles, mashing your tits together, squeezing them with amusement. “This is what I love to see!” He leans forward, and latches on to one of your tingling nipples.

  “Mnnnnn!” you moan, overcome by the sensation of his hungry lips sucking at your tits. You grab his horned head, cradling it against your breast, your thighs tightening at the sheer intensity of that pleasure. You’d always been a powerful mage, but Givril’s cum has changed you. Where once your magic would come at your call, now it infuses the milk that stuffs your breasts. Easy access for the gluttonous imp.

  Already you can see the changes taking place. A soft glow suffusing Givril with every gulp. His horns growing a little more. His body too. He’s still no taller than your breasts, but he seems so much greater than you. So much mightier. So much more perfect.

  “Oooooh master,” you moan, stroking his head as he suckles your breasts eagerly. “Yes. Oh gods yes. Drink my milk, master. Drink my magic. All of you. Mnnn! Oh gods, yes, master. My glorious Overlord! So big. So strong. I love you, master. Slave loves her master so muuuuch!”

  Givril cackles as he hungrily sucks from your pierced breasts. His hand moves from your teat, gliding down along the cursed mark branded onto your mons, stroking that tingling sign before wandering yet lower, his finger strumming your pussy.