by Angel Black
To take her as a man, yet I am mostly woman.
To plant my copious and rich seed within her, no matter what the consequences.
Would I make her my lady-wife?
I would love to. To take her away from the leering and drunken crowds I found her in among the bars of the glacial port of Stormhaven, to have her wake up naked and sweet by my side every morn, and for her to sing me sweet songs of love through the day.
For her to bear my child?
I close my eyes softly, a wish, a prayer to the Goddess, and a dream I wish every day would come true, but in my mind I know it to be as improbable as the luck of incredible fortune I have never had.
Some would say I am fortunate enough, being a mage in the school of Magetower, but I find in my life that magic does not bring one happiness.
Still, her love is something for which I wish, something for which I would love to plan for in our future together.
Our future.
I should not get ahead of myself, my teachers in Magetower warned against thinking too far ahead in magic and in life. My dark magics professor, Shivus Revile, gave me a stinging lesson on just my proclivity to build a bridge of assumptions so far it collapsed on its own weight of improbable circumstance.
He kept me going in front of the whole class for hours teaching me that lesson, and I still sting at being made a fool.
Never again.
I rest my head on my knees, looking away from her sweet gaze with my guilt and my conscious haunting my arousal.
If she does not hate me.
A long moment passes, and the crackle of the fire is something we both share in this difficult moment between us. I keep my gaze from her, wondering if she does not notice my foolish attention, my guilty looks, and my stare at every curve and every look I get at her body, especially her generous breasts.
“Forgive me,” she says before she lies down across the fire, wrapped in her blanket. “I am too hard on you, I am sorry.”
Spare words, yet mysterious in their meaning and intent. I fold my arms and watch her wrap herself tightly as the chill air claws into the cave, causing our fire to flicker and die. I cling to a last bit of hope her forgiveness is genuine and real.
Her voice is soothing, rhythmic. “There is a dragon out there looking for a certain girl in a yellow dress, it is what I heard if I know my dragon and orcish. I know not much, but enough to know.”
And apparently the men I killed as well, and for those who would follow them. I am too hurt to speak back and ask why she held this from me, but she usually only does if she is uncertain of her facts. This must have troubled her so much to hold it in for so long, and she couldn’t sleep unless she let it go.
And I do as well.
I stare at her perfect beauty until she falls asleep. I’m lost in her soft face, her upturned nose, and her sweet lips. It hurts me to not crawl next to her. It is hard to break my gaze from her, but I turn it out of the looming mouth of our cave.
A dragon hunts out there, with several tribes of Orcs at his command. Not for us, but for a young lady in a yellow dress. And despite the unfortunate position we may be in, we may hold the advantage of being at the wrong place at the right time, and outsiders to this all.
My hand is played, the the men and this dragon must know a mage is about. This should scare the Orcs, but the dragon will be wiser. He will send Orcs to their deaths looking for this woman, and myself. He will eliminate me as a threat to his prize.
And the men?
Wiser still, and an unknown threat which could stab us both in the back. There is no greater evil than the evil in the house next door.
If we live through these days to come, it shall be a miracle.
Chapter 11:
Wicked
My black silk dress falls off my supple hips, my long legs apart with my heeled leather boots to each side of the brute. With my skin of pure white, my legs looked like an alabaster statue, but unlike the statue I was very much flesh, and very much alive.
If being a Darklord, master of death and necromancy counts as being alive, than so be it. Not everything in this world is so pure, so innocent, or so normal as one would assume.
Neither am I.
I wear three leather straps around my thighs, two on the left and one on the right, just for the feel. My silk dress shimmers in the dull firelight of my tent, cinched around my waist tightly, with a sling for each of my large, yet firmly upheld breasts. Fingerless gloves cover my lower arms, and my hand of purest white stroke my pure-white skin.
My fingernails? Red, the color of blood, of course.
My hips at the moment lay bare, my purplish cunt flayed open and soaked with wetness, and my pure-white cock rimmed with purple veins and rock hard muscles juts from my body like a turgid lance of bone-colored flesh.
And my Orc Captain Garr’Reth is sucking my cock.
It feels divine, and I look between my giant breasts as the beast sucks me, taking my massive eleven-inch cock deep in his mouth, stroking it with his wet, giant, suede-like tongue, running it across his blunt fangs, and worshiping it with his spit and mighty suction. I push a string of red hair out of my face and I realize how hot I am getting, the sheen of sweat covering my breasts with my silk dress tightly wrapped over my nipples, the insides and my cleavage bare.
For yes, I am a Sister of Gundir myself, yet eons ago I was corrupted by darkness and made a Darklord by my master, the Arch-Lich Mal’Thul. I kept my cock, my skin was bleached the purest white, and my hair turned fire red by the blood of innocents. Long, long ago I turned and I have not ventured back to the pitiful fools of the North in a long, long time.
“Mmm, suck my cock you beast,” I say, my lurid words spurring the Orc to suck harder, his own giant cock erect beneath him, “and don’t touch yourself until I give you permission!”
I grab his head and shove my cock as far as it can go down his bestial throat, his large nostrils flaring and sucking air against my hips as he gags on my girth. “I will fucking punish you if you come!” I thrust deeply into his throat as I moan in delight, throat-fucking the Orc like he was my worthless slave.
Which he was, of course.
Well, him and the dragon really, but the stupid dragon doesn’t know it yet. I can hear the dragon’s throaty breath from here shaking the ground.
“Oh, that feels good Garr!” I thrust some more down his gripping throat before letting him go, watching him cough and gasp for air. I force him back to his pleasureful task, bobbing his head up and down on my cock. “Keep sucking, worthless pig.”
I lean into it, holding the bald, leather-like skin of his head tightly, fingernails digging into the flesh as I feel the hard bone of his skull underneath. I plant my boot on the ground and the other beside me so I can get some motion to my hips, and I begin thrusting into his deep and vermin-like mouth with glee.
“Oh, this fucking feels good,” I say, gasping for air as I feel the pressure deepen within me. I grit my teeth and let my black lips part as I continue my ruthless assault of his gullet with my cock. “Fucking beast. Suck! Fucking suck it harder!”
Oh by all that is perverted and vile this feels divine.
I squirm as I flex my white ass muscles and fuck his Orc face harder with my cock, spit hanging from his lips in long strings, his war paint smeared across his face and also my once-spotless hips.
“You, you fucking made me dirty, you filthy beast!” I slam my hips into his face, my breasts nearly shaking from my sling dress, the sweat coming off me in beads, the muscles under my paint-smeared and pure white hips flexing hard as I pump the Orc’s mouth. “Fucking pay by sucking my cum!”
Do I care the other Orcs may hear us outside my tent?
Not at all, they should be honored to have their filthy mouths fucked by their precious Darklord’s she-cock. If their captain is humiliated by this lurid act, all the better they know whom their mistress truly is.
“Suck my cock harder!”
I keep up my thrusts an
d feel the sticky suede of his tongue grip me. He knows what I like, and the wet friction against my cock skin is something I cannot resist. He uses his tongue, as big as a meaty steak, to wrap the underside of my cock and grip it like a fucking glove.
He’s good when he puts his mind to a simple task. His tongue grips and strokes, and his mouth turns to a snapping pussy upon the throbbing man-meat of my womanhood. He begins curling and flexing his huge tongue around my cock like a series of waves, the tip of his tongue darting along the bottom of my cock, and the pressure on the sides rippling along my shaft.
Oh fuck, that does it.
“You fucking dirty beast! Oh Goddess! Fuck!”
I feel the sperm surge from inside me as I lose control. I throw my head back, screaming, feeling the rush flow from my hips into the Orc’s mouth. I start hyperventilating as the soft moans and cries come from a place inside me that’s darkly perverted and softer than I would like to admit.
“Oh. I’m coming! Oh you fucking filthy animal, fucking suck my cum!”
I shoot a torrent of warm sperm into the Orc’s mouth, shot after shot shooting from my piss hole straight into his wanting, sucking maw. I grip his jaw, locking his mouth tightly around my cock as I try to fill up the vast expanse of his mouth with my spurting come.
“Fucking dirty Orc! Swallow. Fucking eat it! Do not w-waste. Oh. Fuck.”
I feel the soles of my feet shake and arc in pain as I feed him what feels like a quart of cum down his throat.
“Keep fucking swallowing, Orc bitch!”
More sperm, and more shots straight down his throat.
Oh, this is good.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m still coming. Ah-”
I’m sweating as I feel the last of it surging from inside me, I have at least seven or eight good loads left before the fucking brute sucks me dry. I rip my cock from his wanting mouth and fucking paste his Orc chief face white with the warm strings of my spurting semen.
“Fucking let me paint your face, Orc bitch!” That talk sets me off, and I strain to give his gasping Orc face several more loads, hitting his eye, leaving long strings of white sperm hanging across the steel of his armor, and letting my spurting cock subside as I complete my lurid war painting of his fucking face with my seed.
“Oh. You like it. My, my warm cum.” I say, my words halting as I spasm, shot after shot of semen landing across his face. The end of my white cock turns bright purple as it spurts life from me. I’m moaning, coming, and the ceaseless torrent covers him in my sperm. “Oh fuck. On your dirty fucking face. Fuck.”
I get a shot up his nostril, and a clear bubble of cum shoots out as I laugh, losing myself quickly as another wave of pleasure takes me. My cunt joins in and a torrent of wet pussy-cum drips down the insides of my legs, soaking my ass, and creating long rivers down the leather of my boots.
“Oh. Mommy is draining her cock,” I say, my body now covered by sweat. “Fuck you for making mommy come so hard.”
The last few shots of cum land across the others as I groan in pleasure, trying to milk myself with my hand, and my body shakes as I expend the final victorious spurts over his green skin. It feels so good to spend myself on him.
“Fuck you, filthy pig!”
I wipe the sperm off his face with my fingers, smearing his sweat with his black war paint, and feed the darkly stained sperm to him as he licks the seed from my fingers like a hungry dog. “Fucking do not let my cum go to waste. Eat it!”
“Mistress Magni!” He speaks, gasping for air as he slurps my fingers clean.
“Good boy. Now have your Orc lieutenants lick your fucking filthy face clean of cum for me while I watch, Orc bitch,” I say with a sneer worthy of my stature of someone they should fear.
As they should.
I gasp and rest back against my pillows. Goddess, that felt good. My white cock hangs, half deflated but ready for another round should it please me. My pussy is soaked under that, and I consider having him suck it.
He stands up and looks innocently at the olive green of his massive Orcish cock, like the bitch wants me to suck it for him. The nerve of him thinking of himself first, the whore.
“Are you serious? You wish me to tire my jaw sucking that beast of a cock?” I laugh. “Or do you just wish to soil me with your seed as revenge? Do you think I will let you shoot that brackish yellow Orc cum all over this face? And in my hair?” I stroke my cheek with my fingerless black glove for effect, smiling like I know his answer.
“Put it away.” I sneer, glaring at the beast with leveled and cold eyes. I cross my legs and pull the black silk back over my hips, putting my cock away. For now. He shoves his cock in the leather of his loin, and I squirm.
“Let me make you a deal,” I say. “Do you want to come all over your Mistress’ pretty white face? To drown me in your cum? To shoot your wicked seed across my gasping mouth, and through the curls of my perfect red hair? Do you want me bitching about washing it out, and punishing me as you fucking soil me with buckets of your sperm?”
He nods, slowly at first, silent with his brutish eyes glazing over with desire. He quickens the pace of his nods as I smile at the filthy thought.
“Do you want to growl in victory like I was some peasant human bitch you pasted with your cum? To have the deep, sticky globs of your seed choke me as I try to swallow them down?”
“I would,” he says, his deep Orcish voice quavering in lust, “I would, Mistress.”
“Would you like to take a little revenge on your Mistress by trying to get cum in my eyes, you Orcish whore?”
He nods again, and I grip my hardening cock through the black silk of my dress. I stroke my large breast with my other hand, pinching my rock-hard nipple through the slick fabric.
“Perhaps you would then like to fuck your cum-blinded Mistress in her tight little asshole? To fill her tight rectum with your filthy sperm, all they way up in my ass, and have me squirt all that dirty cum out of my gripping, sore sphincter in my very favorite goblet so I could eat it for you?”
I see the leather of his crotch-guard press out hard, his cock begging to be free, his desires pressing with all their brutish might towards me.
“Filthy Orc,” I say, smiling as my cock desires the same. I lie on my side, exhaling and thinking of the fun we shall have. Maybe I’ll let him lick my asshole clean after that if he’s a good boy.
Outside his army prepares for an assault on the nearby mountains, and I hear the deep, throaty growl of the dragon shake the tent. I let the purest circles of corrupted magic flow through my mind in my post orgasmic haze, a state which I am able to focus and cast spells the bastards and bitches of Magetower would shake in their pointed hats and robes at the power of which they could never comprehend nor have.
His eyes are covered by the lustful rage which plagues his race. His breathing is labored, and the veins pop from his pig-like face like the ones on my cock.
I smile at him. “Get me the girl in the yellow dress and you shall have your wish.”
Epilogue
I am as old as the mountains.
Humans are but seedlings to this world to me, for I predate their existence.
They will come, and they will go in my time.
I remember the days when the gods walked this earth, when the mountains belched fire, and when life began to crawl out from the caves of this world.
And these seedlings wish to entertain me with their petty squabbles, the high drama they attribute to their worthless lives, and their so-called meaningful actions.
They write legends and I watch them fall into dust.
Yet, once in every eon a bright glimmer appears in the peat and fertilizer of these humans’ lives.
A soul glimmers like a diamond, meaningful in its importance, and worthy of my attention for a brief moment of time.
It arouses my curiosity.
And this soul keeps slipping from my grasp, no matter how hard I pinch my mighty claws, I lose it in the soil of human decay again and ag
ain.
I grow angry at this.
I dirty my claws with the grit of life, using Orcs as the sand in which I shall gain grip of this treasure. I summon forth the silent power of the dead as the filth to hold this grime to my claws.
I use them.
I shall wash them off when I have what I want.
For this sparkling soul has its uses.
A special seedling.
For a special plant.
A tree, perhaps?
One which reaches all the way up into the heavens for my claws to cling to, and one which brings my hateful vengeance straight to the home of the gods themselves.
For hate knows no sanctuary, and it knows no peace.
The Frozen Queen continues in book 2
of the Futanari Legends trilogy…
Astrid
…coming Spring 2015
Thank You!
This book took me by surprise during a cold week in December. What began as a simple swords-and-sorcery tale turned into the beginning of a full-out epic futanari adventure. I am also maturing as a writer, taking chances, and finding a voice I love to write with - along with the voices of my characters. Hopefully I can tell a tale which pays homage to the classic heroes of Anime and strangely cross-sexual futanari I love, while delivering a great story and epic tale worthy of the brave fantasy stories begin told today in movies like The Hobbit or series like Game of Thrones.
Of course, I can never be them and I must do my own thing, but that epic feel, that danger, and those perilous lands and worlds have a greatness and color all their own. They bring you there and let you escape with your favorite heroes for a while. They let you laugh when they succeed, and they let you cry when they fall. The wickedness too is something to behold, and this is just as much a part of these stories as heroism itself.
Hopefully, in a small way, I can capture some of that magic and bring it to you, while delivering on the darkly sexual and gender-crossed and often conflicted futanari heroines I love to write for. There is a rich tapestry here I wish to paint upon and share with the world who loves them.